The three dot rule would, I believe, only kick in with a specific artifact; you can have multiple, lower rated artifacts without having to spend bonus points. A talisman can be purchased as an Artifact 1 item and is not exactly an unbalancing purchase. A luck charm, a warding charm against demons, and another warding charm against Fae might be a useful mix. Or maybe a hearthstone amulet without a hearthstone, for use later, and a powerful warding talisman, and a walkaway charm created by surviving the attack on your village. The rules are on page 379 in the core book, though default assumption is purchase with Resources there is provision for them being bought with Artifact points.frigidmagi wrote:
? Wouldn't that be in violation of the no pts above 3 dots rule?
[Exalted] Lords of the Hundred Kingdoms OOC
Moderator: B4UTRUST
#126
Last edited by Cavalier on Thu Jul 07, 2011 1:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
#127
Nobody tells the Chosen of the Sun what to do. Thalia can go by her name, or a nickname, or pretentious title. There are examples of Exalted doing all of these in the fluff.Hawkwings wrote:First of all, her name is Thalia. Or maybe that was her name, does she have to take on some new overly high-and-mighty name as an Exalted?
Manses are rather more special than just an office, and they are not given to nobodies. At least I don't believe so.I do like the idea of a one-room manse, so perhaps part of the university is in the site of an old First Age ruin, and the manse is Thalia's office that she's taken quite a liking to?
Also, nobodies don't Exalt. To even qualify for Exaltation you must have some sort of heroic thread in the Loom of Fate. Then the Exaltation is earned by doing something badass enough to impress Sol Invictus or Luna. Doesn't mean a librarian of no renown can't become a Solar, but there a couple billion people in creation, so she had to have been something special.
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
#128
Come to think of it, talismans from your tribe could work as one/two dots thaumaturgical Artifacts and can be actually very useful. My favorite is the walwaway charm, which cancels up to three health levels of any damage on a single roll per story. Can be a life-saver.
Also, the 'no BG above 3' is only for individual BGs, so you can have Artifact 3 (Dire Lance) and Artifact 1 (talisman) without excess bonus points.
I'll use the same reward system I used in another game (I'll probably bring it in Protectors of the River Province too):
interesting personal background: +2 bonus points
really cool, well-written personal background: +3 bonus points
breathtaking Exalted short story: +5 bonus points
interesting communal background element/tie-in: +1 bonus point for all characters concerned (max +3 per character)
the final result of the above is a strong thematic common background that binds the Circle together: +3 bonus points for everybody
the final result is the stuff of legends : + 5 bonus points for everyone.
I think it's a good start.
Manse are generally isolated, rather large places. There existed cities built around large, four/five dot Manses in the First Age, but no one manages that kind of geomancy today.
There are special rules for building Manses in Oadenol's Codex, such as integrating laboratories, improving the effects of Charms of a certain splat, automated servants, traps, communication devices...
Also, the 'no BG above 3' is only for individual BGs, so you can have Artifact 3 (Dire Lance) and Artifact 1 (talisman) without excess bonus points.
I'll use the same reward system I used in another game (I'll probably bring it in Protectors of the River Province too):
interesting personal background: +2 bonus points
really cool, well-written personal background: +3 bonus points
breathtaking Exalted short story: +5 bonus points
interesting communal background element/tie-in: +1 bonus point for all characters concerned (max +3 per character)
the final result of the above is a strong thematic common background that binds the Circle together: +3 bonus points for everybody
the final result is the stuff of legends : + 5 bonus points for everyone.
I think it's a good start.
Manse are generally isolated, rather large places. There existed cities built around large, four/five dot Manses in the First Age, but no one manages that kind of geomancy today.
There are special rules for building Manses in Oadenol's Codex, such as integrating laboratories, improving the effects of Charms of a certain splat, automated servants, traps, communication devices...
Last edited by The Nomad on Thu Jul 07, 2011 4:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
#130 Background Story 1
The Exaltation of Yue Xiao
There had been no choice in the matter.
The bandits had been waiting in ambush for a column of refugees when he had stumbled over them. Yue had passed the dispirited group earlier and his heart had been touched by their plight and their condition. Worn, ragged, traumatized from some skirmish or other in the Hundred Kingdoms, the losers of a struggle between clans for some spot of territory, they were fleeing to the relative safety of the River Province. There were many children and few hale adults, and most of their trained warriors had been killed; the few who hadn't were wounded, walking or otherwise. They would be no match for sturdy criminals, well-fed off the loot they exacted on the road, and armed for combat.
Which is why he had bounded out of the bushes, screaming a challenge and sweeping his faithful crescent polearm to scythe down nearest bandit. The bandit's head, lopped off, fell to the ground as arterial blood sprayed out over his fellows. That had shocked the enemy, enough for Yue to bring his polearm back around in a broad sweep to reap through another pair of the criminals. The steel blade slashed through the leather buff coat of his first target before he switched the thrust with his left hand to smash the metal counterweight right into the face of another opponent.
He stood his ground, daring the bandits to come after him. He met the eyes of their obvious chief, the only one among them boasting a worked mail shirt and helmet. Yue saw the rage building there, and he nodded. And as fast as he had leaped into their midst he flipped away from them, into the deep underbrush of the forest. Shouted orders made it clear he was the subject of their attention, and he would occupy them with a chase, though he was no woodsman and did not know this area.
Yue ran, but kept his feet light, avoiding the gnarled roots, thorny bushes, and low-hanging branches that provided obstacles to his flight. He held back from breaking into a flat-out sprint; he needed to make sure the remaining bandits, five in all, kept up with him. When they lagged behind, he stopped to slip around in the brush and then appear before them again from behind a tree. When they closed too quickly, he turned and slashed at the leader with his polearm. After he had judged enough time had passed he began moving more swiftly, more purposefully to escape. Though escape to where, he knew not.
The pounding of the pursuit had slackened, and he was growing tired, short of breath. The gurgling of a stream nearby drew his attention. The dusty feeling in his throat asserted himself. He slowed down, and headed toward the sound of the running water. As far as he could tell he had left the pursuit long behind.
It was a beautiful, swift-flowing stream, less than waist-deep, but crystal clear. The trees thinned out around it and the brushes disappeared altogether, allowing him a look overhead. It had been dusk when he had made his impulsive assault on the bandits. Now the sky above was darkening with the advent of night, the moon's silky silver light illuminating the sheltered grove. He bent down by the stream, laying down his crescent blade at his side to cup his hands and splash his face with the water. He drew from the patch of the stream where the moon was reflected, disturbing the perfect mirror surface and sending ripples to distort the image. He drank down greedily, assuaging his thirst.
A sudden current seized through his body, and startled, he grabbed his crescent blade and twirled around to his feet, facing the approach to the stream. The bandit chief stumbled out into the open, bedraggled, with leaves and branches sticking out from his armor. There was murder in his eyes as he raised his notched slashing sword and advanced on Yue.
Yue struck first, using the longer reach of his polearm to keep the bandit at bay. He circled around, wary of closing within the killing distance of the bandit's sword. The polearm had many advantages as a defensive weapon and he was loathe to abandon them by being too aggressive. And he was counting on the bandit chief making a mistake out of his rage. But Yue was also tired, and he had to fight down apprehension to maintain his stoic outward demeanor. Parrying the wild thrusts of the bandit was easy but the struggle was bound to grow more desperate as the combat stretched on.
His enemy decided to break the stalemate. A swift lunge caught Yue offguard, and as he brought the weighted end of the his polearm up to block the bandit swung his sword down with both hands. The powerful blow notched deep into the wooden shaft, almost cutting straight through. The bandit reacted first, pulling the blade out and launching a flurry of blows that Yue could only barely parry, forcing him back toward the stream. Finally feeling his feet slipping along the bank, he braced himself as the bandit closed for the kill.
Yue sprang forward, taking his right hand off the polearm. The force of the bandit's parry knocked the crescent blade out of his left hand, sending it to the ground, but it gave him an opening. His hand connected with a sickening crunch into the jaw of the marauder, disorienting him as Yue kicked him directly in the midsection. The bandit flew back, and Yue followed up with a lightening-fast series of chops designed to knock the wind out of his opponent. The strikes against the chain mail were painful, but he ignored the sensation as he pummeled the bandit, letting him slip within clinch range. He halted the onslaught to grab the man's right arm and twisted it, dislocating the shoulder and forcing him to drop the sword.
Yue allowed the bandit to slump down to the forest floor, blood flowing freely from cuts and a shattered face. He picked up the sword and lightly tossed it into the stream. With that he stood over the battered man, his own bloodied fists held in a guard stance. “Do you yield?â€
There had been no choice in the matter.
The bandits had been waiting in ambush for a column of refugees when he had stumbled over them. Yue had passed the dispirited group earlier and his heart had been touched by their plight and their condition. Worn, ragged, traumatized from some skirmish or other in the Hundred Kingdoms, the losers of a struggle between clans for some spot of territory, they were fleeing to the relative safety of the River Province. There were many children and few hale adults, and most of their trained warriors had been killed; the few who hadn't were wounded, walking or otherwise. They would be no match for sturdy criminals, well-fed off the loot they exacted on the road, and armed for combat.
Which is why he had bounded out of the bushes, screaming a challenge and sweeping his faithful crescent polearm to scythe down nearest bandit. The bandit's head, lopped off, fell to the ground as arterial blood sprayed out over his fellows. That had shocked the enemy, enough for Yue to bring his polearm back around in a broad sweep to reap through another pair of the criminals. The steel blade slashed through the leather buff coat of his first target before he switched the thrust with his left hand to smash the metal counterweight right into the face of another opponent.
He stood his ground, daring the bandits to come after him. He met the eyes of their obvious chief, the only one among them boasting a worked mail shirt and helmet. Yue saw the rage building there, and he nodded. And as fast as he had leaped into their midst he flipped away from them, into the deep underbrush of the forest. Shouted orders made it clear he was the subject of their attention, and he would occupy them with a chase, though he was no woodsman and did not know this area.
Yue ran, but kept his feet light, avoiding the gnarled roots, thorny bushes, and low-hanging branches that provided obstacles to his flight. He held back from breaking into a flat-out sprint; he needed to make sure the remaining bandits, five in all, kept up with him. When they lagged behind, he stopped to slip around in the brush and then appear before them again from behind a tree. When they closed too quickly, he turned and slashed at the leader with his polearm. After he had judged enough time had passed he began moving more swiftly, more purposefully to escape. Though escape to where, he knew not.
The pounding of the pursuit had slackened, and he was growing tired, short of breath. The gurgling of a stream nearby drew his attention. The dusty feeling in his throat asserted himself. He slowed down, and headed toward the sound of the running water. As far as he could tell he had left the pursuit long behind.
It was a beautiful, swift-flowing stream, less than waist-deep, but crystal clear. The trees thinned out around it and the brushes disappeared altogether, allowing him a look overhead. It had been dusk when he had made his impulsive assault on the bandits. Now the sky above was darkening with the advent of night, the moon's silky silver light illuminating the sheltered grove. He bent down by the stream, laying down his crescent blade at his side to cup his hands and splash his face with the water. He drew from the patch of the stream where the moon was reflected, disturbing the perfect mirror surface and sending ripples to distort the image. He drank down greedily, assuaging his thirst.
A sudden current seized through his body, and startled, he grabbed his crescent blade and twirled around to his feet, facing the approach to the stream. The bandit chief stumbled out into the open, bedraggled, with leaves and branches sticking out from his armor. There was murder in his eyes as he raised his notched slashing sword and advanced on Yue.
Yue struck first, using the longer reach of his polearm to keep the bandit at bay. He circled around, wary of closing within the killing distance of the bandit's sword. The polearm had many advantages as a defensive weapon and he was loathe to abandon them by being too aggressive. And he was counting on the bandit chief making a mistake out of his rage. But Yue was also tired, and he had to fight down apprehension to maintain his stoic outward demeanor. Parrying the wild thrusts of the bandit was easy but the struggle was bound to grow more desperate as the combat stretched on.
His enemy decided to break the stalemate. A swift lunge caught Yue offguard, and as he brought the weighted end of the his polearm up to block the bandit swung his sword down with both hands. The powerful blow notched deep into the wooden shaft, almost cutting straight through. The bandit reacted first, pulling the blade out and launching a flurry of blows that Yue could only barely parry, forcing him back toward the stream. Finally feeling his feet slipping along the bank, he braced himself as the bandit closed for the kill.
Yue sprang forward, taking his right hand off the polearm. The force of the bandit's parry knocked the crescent blade out of his left hand, sending it to the ground, but it gave him an opening. His hand connected with a sickening crunch into the jaw of the marauder, disorienting him as Yue kicked him directly in the midsection. The bandit flew back, and Yue followed up with a lightening-fast series of chops designed to knock the wind out of his opponent. The strikes against the chain mail were painful, but he ignored the sensation as he pummeled the bandit, letting him slip within clinch range. He halted the onslaught to grab the man's right arm and twisted it, dislocating the shoulder and forcing him to drop the sword.
Yue allowed the bandit to slump down to the forest floor, blood flowing freely from cuts and a shattered face. He picked up the sword and lightly tossed it into the stream. With that he stood over the battered man, his own bloodied fists held in a guard stance. “Do you yield?â€
Last edited by Cavalier on Thu Jul 07, 2011 8:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.
-
frigidmagi
- Dragon Death-Marine General
- Posts: 14757
- Joined: Wed Jun 08, 2005 11:03 am
- 19
- Location: Alone and unafraid
#134
Alright, so I'll switch the pts into Artifacts, have that up by the end of tonight.
"it takes two sides to end a war but only one to start one. And those who do not have swords may still die upon them." Tolken
#135
Now, time to get some common background...
I suppose that Lys Cavalier's characters could have heard about a new golden overlord sweeping through the East, and met frigid's character while he was inquiring about his nemesis. I don't know yet how Hawkwings would fit in that though.
I suppose that Lys Cavalier's characters could have heard about a new golden overlord sweeping through the East, and met frigid's character while he was inquiring about his nemesis. I don't know yet how Hawkwings would fit in that though.
#136
Certainly having spoken with Lys and frigid there's a rough agreement on how my character gets entwined with theirs. The Solars will have been known to the Silver Pact both as shining champions of Creation and as abusive god-kings who gradually went insane from the inhuman strain of their perfection. Since his motivation is to defend the Hundred Kingdoms against the myriad threats arrayed against it (sparked by the recognition that some of those threats are crazy Lunars like Ma Ha Suchi) scoping out the returning Solars makes sense. Are they powerful allies who can help reserve Creation, or yet another threat to the people of the River Province?
So Yue is actively seeking out Solars to observe discretely using his alternate forms, and at some opportune time can make himself known. He can also help the new Solars discover their true nature and place in the world, uncolored by Immaculate lies- though certainly biased by the perspectives of the Lunars.
So Yue is actively seeking out Solars to observe discretely using his alternate forms, and at some opportune time can make himself known. He can also help the new Solars discover their true nature and place in the world, uncolored by Immaculate lies- though certainly biased by the perspectives of the Lunars.
#137
Now I'll need Lys and Hawkwings' background submissions, if possible. I'm aiming to get the game going in the next two weeks if possible. Once it's done it'll be slower paced, but right now I need a more active player participation.
#138
Sorry for being missing. My computer has died and repair time is looking to be around 14 days. I'll have access through public computers, but storytelling time is going to be abbreviated due to not having anything to write with at home.
Except for old-school paper and pencil. Hmm, this might get interesting...
Except for old-school paper and pencil. Hmm, this might get interesting...
#139
Sorry, I've been having some pretty severe writer's block for this game. It's not the sort of writer's block most people get, where they can't think of anything. I have, in my head, written out several pages worth of background already, but I can't get the words to go from my mind into written words. It's ironically easier for me to write when I'm only a little bit inspired, like with the Transformers game, than when I'm very inspired and excited, as is the case here. I have been making more progress though, so I might have a finished background soon.
I've written stuff for online during airplane and car trips, when I did not have access to a computer. Just write down what you have in mind, then type it up later. Often times, writing with pen and paper goes a lot faster because there is less to distract you.Hawkwings wrote:I'll have access through public computers, but storytelling time is going to be abbreviated due to not having anything to write with at home. Except for old-school paper and pencil. Hmm, this might get interesting...
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
#140
No need to write several pages. Take frigid's or Cavalier's backgrounds. They're efficient, to the point, and leave enough wiggle room for your meeting.
Honestly I'm just liable to skip over and ignore parts of a huge-ass novella unless you make it very interesting, and for something very long it'd take professional level writing. I'm not attributing bonus point rewards on a wordcount basis :)
Honestly I'm just liable to skip over and ignore parts of a huge-ass novella unless you make it very interesting, and for something very long it'd take professional level writing. I'm not attributing bonus point rewards on a wordcount basis :)
#141
I know, I know, that's part of the problem. Trying to cut down the fat from all the ideas I've been having. Some details are cool but irrelevant, some have some relevance but are not that interesting. Like I said, though, I have been making progress. Last night I finished what should be about the first third or so of the background. Another couple of nights and I believe I'll have a coherent whole that is both interesting and to the point. I'm really sorry to everyone for taking so long.
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
-
frigidmagi
- Dragon Death-Marine General
- Posts: 14757
- Joined: Wed Jun 08, 2005 11:03 am
- 19
- Location: Alone and unafraid
#142
Suggestions for your background, what I tend to do is ask some questions to help me get into the character's head.
1: Who are you? The answer is more then a name.
2: Where are you from?
3: What do you want? (insert bab5 joke here)
4: How did you Exalt?
5: Where are you going? (expect this to change the minute the game begins)
A background should answer those questions while leaving enough room for details to be filled in later.
1: Who are you? The answer is more then a name.
2: Where are you from?
3: What do you want? (insert bab5 joke here)
4: How did you Exalt?
5: Where are you going? (expect this to change the minute the game begins)
A background should answer those questions while leaving enough room for details to be filled in later.
"it takes two sides to end a war but only one to start one. And those who do not have swords may still die upon them." Tolken
#143
History of the Hokuoujin
They came to River Province from the North: A race of tall, muscled men with fair skin, hair like the sun, and eyes like the sky. They came in a vast fleet of airships, advancing on the heels of the retreating Fair Folk armies in the early days of the Second Age. Their emissaries rode powerful warhorses, and clad themselves in furs and mail. They called themselves the Nords, we called them the Hokuoujin. They came because they had heard of the Province's legendary wealth, as had so many other refugees who came to our lands in those times, but they were not looking for succour. They came to fight, they said, and they did not care for whom or for why.
In the chaos of those years, there was plenty need for skilled fighting men. Most of River Province's military forces had been practically annihilated by plague and war, and though the vast armies of the Fair Folk had returned to the Wyld, parts of their hosts remained to raid and plunder. The surviving Prefects recognized both the need for Hokuoujin, and the implicit threat behind their offer. Thus the newcomers became wandering mercenaries, chasing down the isolated Raksha remnants, and keeping the peace between the desperate bands of bedraggled refugees.
This changed when the Realm came to assert its authority. Instead of uniting with us in fighting off the invaders, the Hokuoujin signed a decade long contract with them. For ten years they were the dogs of the Scarlett Empress; for ten years they took the her jade and did the her dirty work. Then when their contract neared expiration, the Hokuoujin inexplicably declined to renew it. As the River Province rose up in a storm of violence, they turned against their former employers and helped us drive them out. Though in the end they fought and died with us, nobody forgot that they had also fought and killed for our enemies, and repercussions against them might have been harsh indeed. But as soon as the last of the Empress' soldiers left our lands, the Hokuoujin were under contract for the Lookshy, and none dared defy the Seventh Legion.
During the Second and Third Realm Invasions the Hokuoujin fought fearlessly in support of the Seventh Legion. With their customary ruthlessness and ferocity, they took maximum advantage of the incredible mobility afforded by a fleet of airships. The Hokoujin flanked, encircled, and isolated forces of the Imperial Legions at every turn, destroying supply lines and assaulting weak points. The ability to so rapidly deploy troops to new battlefields was instrumental in wearing down the invaders. In many a battle, a valiant charge into the enemy's side or rear by Hokuoujin heavy horse and foot proved the decisive factor.
Having beaten away the forces of the Scarlet Empress for good, most of the powers in the nascent League of Many Rivers were willing to forgive the Hokuoujin for their past collaboration with the Realm. This was just as well, because after years of heavy fighting their remaining airships were in a state of heavy disrepair. No longer could the Hokuoujin live in the skies, wandering from place to place. Thus they took their last payment for their services to Lookshy in the form of the Iron Fortress, an ancient castle south of the confluence between the Maruto and Yellow Rivers. The Princes of the Hokuoujin made their throne in the citadelle, and their people settled the lands around it. Their word for foreign lands, Ellendia, became the name of their new home.
Exaltation of Alia of the Wind
It was a cloudy afternoon on the last day of the Siege of Eisenburg, during the War of the League of Thesa. The Graikian army had invested the city, and was fighting its way inside. Soldiers poured through breaks in the curtain wall, while others used ladders and siege towers to climb the intact sections. A vicious battle raged in Eisenburg's outer streets and along its walls as defenders struggled to contain the breaches.
King Alaric, a well built middle aged man with fading blonde hair, stood on the citadelle once known as the Iron Fortress. He wore plate of the finest quality, a surcoat with his royal arms, and a regal disposition. With him were his two tall and proud daughters: Sigilind, the elder sister, strong and athletic, with emerald eyes and long scarlet locks; and Alitrude, the younger sister, impossibly beautiful, with eyes of aquamarine and hair of golden straw. Beside them stood also a grizzled old soldier, the Hauptman Xaintrailles. Bearded, large, and powerful, his scarred face and hard eyes regarded an unfolding debate.
"No Father, you cannot," protested Alitrude. "It is a suicide mission and we all know it, at the least you'll be captured. Ellendia needs its King, the Nords need their Grand-Prince, we cannot afford to lose you. If we do, the blow to morale may be fatal to our efforts. Your Majesty should stay in the citadelle, to show everyone that the throne of our people remains unbowed."
"She is right Father," said Sigilind. "The King must stay here and be our moral strength. I will be the one to lead the distraction, and Alia can escape the siege with the rest of our men."
"No, I forbid it!" said the King. "You are my heir and my daughter. I will not permit you to foolishly throw your life away!" He smiled at her and spoke softly, "I told you once already that defeat is known to every soldier. If you have done your utmost, there is no shame in it, and whatever you might say your officers had few complaints. You have not lost your honour, Sigilind, there is no need to earn it back with your blood. You and your sister lead the break out with the army, and I shall remain."
"That is not acceptable either," insisted Alitrude. "The Nord Princes cannot run away from battle while their companions die, not with three of us here. One must lead the Væringjar in the feint attack, one must lead our army in breaking out, and one must stay to hold the citadelle. The King should guard his throne, and between my sister and me I am the more expendable one. She has the better grasp of tactics and strategy, she is the better administrator, and she is the heir apparent. My loss can be used as a banner around which to rally the men, that of Sigilind will only discourage them. Thus, I must be the one to lead the feint attack."
"Must you always sell yourself short?" asked her sister, exasperated. "You are not expendable, especially to me and Father, we have always valued your presence and counsel. Your life is not for being expended like some... some pawn!"
"Oh? Then why do you not value it now? If I say that I must go, then listen to me and let me go. And I am not selling myself short! I know that I am the better fighter and rider of the two of us, that is why I must make the tactical feint while you conduct the break through operation."
"Enough!" yelled the King. "Neither of you are leading that attack and that is-"
"If I may interrupt, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses," interjected Hauptman Xaintrailles. "May I give my opinion in this matter?"
The King looked at him for several moments, knowing what the old soldier would say, but dearly wanting to delay it. He drew breath deeply, and said quietly, "Go ahead Jean, speak freely."
"This debate wastes time we do not have, so I will be brief. Her Highness Alia makes solid points, and a Nord Prince would greatly encourage the Væringjar in conducting the attack. For the reasons she has given, I believe it best if Princesse Alia leads the feint. I must also point out that it is not truly a suicide mission. The Graikians are not beasts, so there is always the option of surrender and captivity."
King Alaric and the elder Princesse stared at the Hauptman of the Væringjar silently, but he said nothing further. After several moments the King abruptly walked over to his younger daughter and embraced her. "Gods be with you," he whispered, voice almost cracking.
Alitrude's eyes widened in shock, and for a second she did not move. Then she returned the embrace and said, "Thank you father. Gods be with you as well."
The King let go, withdrawing a few steps, and Sigilind rushed in to hug her sister. "I love you dearly, sister," she said, clearly distraught, "I don't want to lose you."
Alitrude struggled to maintain her composure, "And I love you dearly, Sigilind. No matter what happens, part of me is always with you." Her sister broke off and managed a sad smile, and with some difficulty Alitrude returned it.
"Take care of her Hauptman," ordered King Alaric.
"But of course, your Majesty," he replied.
Xaintrailles saluted and turned toward the courtyard where his men awaited. Alitrude followed without looking back. They walked silently for several minutes, but as they approached the courtyard she stopped. Turning to see what held her, Xaintrailles saw the Princesse looking down, tears running down her face. "Jean, Hauptman, I'm scared," she said in a quivering voice. "We are going to die. Don't try to tell me otherwise, I saw it in your eyes, you know it as well as I do. But I'm so scared, I can barely keep from shaking. I don't want to go, I don't want to die, but I'm going to, I have to. It is my duty, for for the sake of Ellendia, for the honour of the Nords, but not alone. I cannot do it alone!" Her voice choked up, and she could not hold her sobbing. "Please... I need your strength. Will you go with me? Will you stand beside me and lend your courage?"
Hauptman Jean de Xaintrailles gently brought his hand up and lifted the Princesse's chin until her eyes met his. "You have my sword, my shield, and my strength, Your Highness, as long as my body draws breath I shall stand by your side."
She smiled, still sobbing, "Until the end?"
"Until the very end my Princesse."
Nodding, Alitrude wiped her face and put on her helmet. After a moment she spoke, "Let us go, I'm ready."
In the courtyard awaited some 600 gendarmes: heavy cavalry equipped with plate armour, lances, shields, and swords. These were the Væringjar, the Companions, the elite horsemen of the Nords, and Life Guards of their Princes. Their Hauptman addressed them, "Due to the breaches in the city wall, it is not possible to continue defending Eisenburg. Princesse Sigilind will lead the bulk of our forces in breaking out of this siege to rendezvous with Comte Olivar's army. A small contingent will remain with the King to screen the withdrawal, then retreat to the citadelle and continue to hold it against the enemy. Half of our number will join the Princesse and lead the break through. Letnant Vignolles?"
A large, strong, and fierce looking young man moved forward astride his horse, "Sire?"
"You will lead the break through force, and command the Væringjar in my absence. The other half of the our number will stay behind with the screening force, but with a different mission. We shall sally out of the Fire Gate and charge into the teeth of the enemy, throwing them off balance long enough for our other forces to act. Princesse Alitrude and myself will lead this attack."
Hauptman Xaintrailles glanced at Alitrude, but it did not look like she would say anything. "The First and Third companies are with me. Second and Fourth will stay here with Letnant Vignolles and await Princesse Sigilind. Move out!"
The Væringjar soberly nodded their acknowledgement and separated as indicated. The Princesse dammed herself for being unable to speak up and encourage them, but she feared that if they heard terror in her voice it would sap their morale. She could see that her silent presence did give them some increased strength and spirit, it would have to suffice.
Few of the Væringjar talked as the two chosen companies rode out of the citadelle and down the hill into the city. They rode purposely, in near flawless formation, looking grand and formidable. Suddenly, Alitrude looked up at Xaintrailles and asked, "What will be our target? Surely we are not to simply go out and kill Graikians until we are overcome?"
The Hauptman shook his head, and extended his arm to point at the break in the wall near the Fire Gate. "The King of Graikia watches the battle near that breach, a ways behind the Gate. He is within arbalest shot, but not so close that anyone can cap him. The King is our target, we shall charge at his banners and cut our way through his troops."
The Princesse laughed bitterly, "You know that we are never going to make it that far."
"We aren't," he smiled. "I know that, you know that, but he doesn't know that."
She laughed again, this time sincerely, "Fair enough I guess."
They rode on, and all were quiet on their arrival at the Fire Gate, for every horseman was lost in thought. They restlessly awaited the signal while the sounds of clashing metal and dying men drifted in from elsewhere in the city. The Princesse struggled to steel herself as feelings of sickness, sadness, fear, and despair washed over her in succession. She would have liked to look confident, but could barely manage the pretension of stoicism. Then at long last, a horn sounded from afar. She looked up and saw flags waving in the gate house.
Alitrude drew a sharp breath and exclaimed, "That's the signal!" The others perked up and leaned forward in their saddles, tensing muscles, bringing lances down to bear. With a supreme act of will, she steadied her nerves and found the courage to raise her lace up into the air and shout, "Væringjar des Princes, with me! For Ellendia, for the Nords!" A roaring cheer followed her words, the gates flew open, and the Væringjar galloped out with their Princesse and Hauptman at the lead.
There is little as terrifying as a charge by heavy horse: A wall of lances and armour, half again the height of man, bearing down with incredible speed and force, accompanied by a terrible thunder of hooves. Caught out of dense phalanxes or shield walls, infantry can be mowed down like grass. To face the stampede of man, horse, and steel is so unnerving that only the most disciplined troops hold will ranks before it. Having been caught completely by surprise, the enemy did not even try.
A gap formed in the opposing host as their troops struggled to get out of the way, and the horsemen rode into it. Those not fast enough were skewered by lances or crushed under hoof. Terrible as it was, however, the fear inspired did not suffice to rout an entire wing of the Graikian army. As they drove into their enemies, the Væringjar's momentum began to wear down, and resistance became thicker and stronger. Eventually, at great cost, the Graikians ground the charge down down to a halt.
"Close ranks! Close ranks!" Alitrude could hear the Hauptman barking orders. He was signalling with his sword, for his lance had broken, but as promised he was still fighting by her side. The Væringjar obeyed, forming up tightly, presenting an unbroken line before the enemy. They resumed their advance, stabbing and cutting their way through the mass of men, protected by armour, horse, and shield. Lacking any cavalry nearby to match them, the Graikians resorted to attacking the horses, but even dismounted the Væringjar proved fearsome combatants, and the advance continued as more of their number fought on foot.
Again and again, almost mechanically, the Princesse thrust her lance into one faceless enemy after another, killing with no hope that it would end. Suddenly her lance broke, and in the shock of the moment she found herself unhorsed. The Graikians rushed to her, and she thought herself dead, but the Hauptmann interposed himself between them, protecting her life with his, slashing at all who would attack his Princesse. After short and valiant stand, he caught a spear with his throat, and the gallant old soldier fell.
"Noooo!" Alitrude screamed, and sword in hand dove into them while the surviving Væringjar swelled behind her. She swiftly hewed down two, three, four of the enemy's number before a big man with a mace took a swing at her. Reflexively raising her shield to block, both it and her arm broke from the impact. Crying out in pain and rage and sorrow, the Princesse killed him and another with such fury that her sword shattered as well. She fell on her knees, injured, broken and sobbing, but something in Mathilde Alitrude Radgridr refused to give up. At that moment she drew Second Breath.
Alia gasped as a flaming golden-white aura rose up around her, and everyone drew back in astonishment. Her eyes opened wide, shining with inner light, and a mark of the crowned sun burst forth on her forehead. The aura grew brighter and brighter in intensity, becoming almost blinding. It climbed up high into the sky, forming a hazy tower of white flames, and the clouds parted before it. Shimmering wings of brilliant gold and crimson sprouted from her back, unfurling themselves to their full majesty. The wings flapped with such force that every man within forty paces was knocked flat, and a fiery bird sprung from Alia's body. It soared skyward on her wings, spreading them wide against the shining sun.
The Princesse stood up, reborn as a demigod, and surging with power. She locked eyes on the not distant flags and banners indicating the Graikian King. Grasping the hilt of her broken sword tightly, she dashed forward with a piercing cry. Behind her, the confused Væringjar got up and followed; in front of her, the terrified Graikians once more did their best to get out of the way. Killing several men without thought, she charged right up to the Royal Guard and fell on them. They fought well, bravely, but mere mortals are nothing before the Chosen of the Sun, and she swiftly cut through them.
At last, Alia came upon the King of Graikia and hewed him down with a single blow. The Graikians and Væringjar watched in shock as the King's lifeless body collapsed upon the ground. With broken sword and broken shield this golden woman had single handedly made mockery of an army. The battlefield grew eerily quiet, and for several moments nobody spoke or moved, so entranced where they by the sight. Then the cry was finally taken up, "Anathema! Anathema! Anathema!" and all before her turned and fled. In an instant, the Graikian army simply dissolved into a stampeding mob.
Alia turned around to face the few survivors of the Væringjar contingent, and they regarded her with mixed awe and apprehension. Her flaming aura had begun to fade, but she still appeared as a titan of legend. It seemed like a life time had passed since they had charged out of the city gates together, and they silently stared at each other's bloodied and battered forms. At long last the Princesse dropped her shattered sword, and undid her straps of her smashed shield, letting it fall to the ground. She took off her helmet, revealing a face covered in tears, sweat, and blood. Then she smiled at them. It was the same beautiful smile they all knew, the same shining eyes. As the aura continued to fade, and Alia began to look almost human, she suddenly started to laugh.
The Væringjar looked around among themselves, confounded, but after a few moments they got the joke: They were alive. They who thought themselves among the dead, alive! To a man they joined in laughter as the tension flowed out of them and powerful emotions shook their bodies. Their cackling joy rose to a powerful crescendo, and the Graikians close enough to hear hastened to get away from it. They laughed, and cried, and hugged each other amidst the still oozing corpses and gore of the battlefield, uncaring of anything but for the fact that they were all alive. After some time Alia finally quieted and fell down on her knees. She looked up at the glorious shining sun, smiled a sad but joyous smile, and collapsed into unconsciousness.
They came to River Province from the North: A race of tall, muscled men with fair skin, hair like the sun, and eyes like the sky. They came in a vast fleet of airships, advancing on the heels of the retreating Fair Folk armies in the early days of the Second Age. Their emissaries rode powerful warhorses, and clad themselves in furs and mail. They called themselves the Nords, we called them the Hokuoujin. They came because they had heard of the Province's legendary wealth, as had so many other refugees who came to our lands in those times, but they were not looking for succour. They came to fight, they said, and they did not care for whom or for why.
In the chaos of those years, there was plenty need for skilled fighting men. Most of River Province's military forces had been practically annihilated by plague and war, and though the vast armies of the Fair Folk had returned to the Wyld, parts of their hosts remained to raid and plunder. The surviving Prefects recognized both the need for Hokuoujin, and the implicit threat behind their offer. Thus the newcomers became wandering mercenaries, chasing down the isolated Raksha remnants, and keeping the peace between the desperate bands of bedraggled refugees.
This changed when the Realm came to assert its authority. Instead of uniting with us in fighting off the invaders, the Hokuoujin signed a decade long contract with them. For ten years they were the dogs of the Scarlett Empress; for ten years they took the her jade and did the her dirty work. Then when their contract neared expiration, the Hokuoujin inexplicably declined to renew it. As the River Province rose up in a storm of violence, they turned against their former employers and helped us drive them out. Though in the end they fought and died with us, nobody forgot that they had also fought and killed for our enemies, and repercussions against them might have been harsh indeed. But as soon as the last of the Empress' soldiers left our lands, the Hokuoujin were under contract for the Lookshy, and none dared defy the Seventh Legion.
During the Second and Third Realm Invasions the Hokuoujin fought fearlessly in support of the Seventh Legion. With their customary ruthlessness and ferocity, they took maximum advantage of the incredible mobility afforded by a fleet of airships. The Hokoujin flanked, encircled, and isolated forces of the Imperial Legions at every turn, destroying supply lines and assaulting weak points. The ability to so rapidly deploy troops to new battlefields was instrumental in wearing down the invaders. In many a battle, a valiant charge into the enemy's side or rear by Hokuoujin heavy horse and foot proved the decisive factor.
Having beaten away the forces of the Scarlet Empress for good, most of the powers in the nascent League of Many Rivers were willing to forgive the Hokuoujin for their past collaboration with the Realm. This was just as well, because after years of heavy fighting their remaining airships were in a state of heavy disrepair. No longer could the Hokuoujin live in the skies, wandering from place to place. Thus they took their last payment for their services to Lookshy in the form of the Iron Fortress, an ancient castle south of the confluence between the Maruto and Yellow Rivers. The Princes of the Hokuoujin made their throne in the citadelle, and their people settled the lands around it. Their word for foreign lands, Ellendia, became the name of their new home.
Exaltation of Alia of the Wind
It was a cloudy afternoon on the last day of the Siege of Eisenburg, during the War of the League of Thesa. The Graikian army had invested the city, and was fighting its way inside. Soldiers poured through breaks in the curtain wall, while others used ladders and siege towers to climb the intact sections. A vicious battle raged in Eisenburg's outer streets and along its walls as defenders struggled to contain the breaches.
King Alaric, a well built middle aged man with fading blonde hair, stood on the citadelle once known as the Iron Fortress. He wore plate of the finest quality, a surcoat with his royal arms, and a regal disposition. With him were his two tall and proud daughters: Sigilind, the elder sister, strong and athletic, with emerald eyes and long scarlet locks; and Alitrude, the younger sister, impossibly beautiful, with eyes of aquamarine and hair of golden straw. Beside them stood also a grizzled old soldier, the Hauptman Xaintrailles. Bearded, large, and powerful, his scarred face and hard eyes regarded an unfolding debate.
"No Father, you cannot," protested Alitrude. "It is a suicide mission and we all know it, at the least you'll be captured. Ellendia needs its King, the Nords need their Grand-Prince, we cannot afford to lose you. If we do, the blow to morale may be fatal to our efforts. Your Majesty should stay in the citadelle, to show everyone that the throne of our people remains unbowed."
"She is right Father," said Sigilind. "The King must stay here and be our moral strength. I will be the one to lead the distraction, and Alia can escape the siege with the rest of our men."
"No, I forbid it!" said the King. "You are my heir and my daughter. I will not permit you to foolishly throw your life away!" He smiled at her and spoke softly, "I told you once already that defeat is known to every soldier. If you have done your utmost, there is no shame in it, and whatever you might say your officers had few complaints. You have not lost your honour, Sigilind, there is no need to earn it back with your blood. You and your sister lead the break out with the army, and I shall remain."
"That is not acceptable either," insisted Alitrude. "The Nord Princes cannot run away from battle while their companions die, not with three of us here. One must lead the Væringjar in the feint attack, one must lead our army in breaking out, and one must stay to hold the citadelle. The King should guard his throne, and between my sister and me I am the more expendable one. She has the better grasp of tactics and strategy, she is the better administrator, and she is the heir apparent. My loss can be used as a banner around which to rally the men, that of Sigilind will only discourage them. Thus, I must be the one to lead the feint attack."
"Must you always sell yourself short?" asked her sister, exasperated. "You are not expendable, especially to me and Father, we have always valued your presence and counsel. Your life is not for being expended like some... some pawn!"
"Oh? Then why do you not value it now? If I say that I must go, then listen to me and let me go. And I am not selling myself short! I know that I am the better fighter and rider of the two of us, that is why I must make the tactical feint while you conduct the break through operation."
"Enough!" yelled the King. "Neither of you are leading that attack and that is-"
"If I may interrupt, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses," interjected Hauptman Xaintrailles. "May I give my opinion in this matter?"
The King looked at him for several moments, knowing what the old soldier would say, but dearly wanting to delay it. He drew breath deeply, and said quietly, "Go ahead Jean, speak freely."
"This debate wastes time we do not have, so I will be brief. Her Highness Alia makes solid points, and a Nord Prince would greatly encourage the Væringjar in conducting the attack. For the reasons she has given, I believe it best if Princesse Alia leads the feint. I must also point out that it is not truly a suicide mission. The Graikians are not beasts, so there is always the option of surrender and captivity."
King Alaric and the elder Princesse stared at the Hauptman of the Væringjar silently, but he said nothing further. After several moments the King abruptly walked over to his younger daughter and embraced her. "Gods be with you," he whispered, voice almost cracking.
Alitrude's eyes widened in shock, and for a second she did not move. Then she returned the embrace and said, "Thank you father. Gods be with you as well."
The King let go, withdrawing a few steps, and Sigilind rushed in to hug her sister. "I love you dearly, sister," she said, clearly distraught, "I don't want to lose you."
Alitrude struggled to maintain her composure, "And I love you dearly, Sigilind. No matter what happens, part of me is always with you." Her sister broke off and managed a sad smile, and with some difficulty Alitrude returned it.
"Take care of her Hauptman," ordered King Alaric.
"But of course, your Majesty," he replied.
Xaintrailles saluted and turned toward the courtyard where his men awaited. Alitrude followed without looking back. They walked silently for several minutes, but as they approached the courtyard she stopped. Turning to see what held her, Xaintrailles saw the Princesse looking down, tears running down her face. "Jean, Hauptman, I'm scared," she said in a quivering voice. "We are going to die. Don't try to tell me otherwise, I saw it in your eyes, you know it as well as I do. But I'm so scared, I can barely keep from shaking. I don't want to go, I don't want to die, but I'm going to, I have to. It is my duty, for for the sake of Ellendia, for the honour of the Nords, but not alone. I cannot do it alone!" Her voice choked up, and she could not hold her sobbing. "Please... I need your strength. Will you go with me? Will you stand beside me and lend your courage?"
Hauptman Jean de Xaintrailles gently brought his hand up and lifted the Princesse's chin until her eyes met his. "You have my sword, my shield, and my strength, Your Highness, as long as my body draws breath I shall stand by your side."
She smiled, still sobbing, "Until the end?"
"Until the very end my Princesse."
Nodding, Alitrude wiped her face and put on her helmet. After a moment she spoke, "Let us go, I'm ready."
In the courtyard awaited some 600 gendarmes: heavy cavalry equipped with plate armour, lances, shields, and swords. These were the Væringjar, the Companions, the elite horsemen of the Nords, and Life Guards of their Princes. Their Hauptman addressed them, "Due to the breaches in the city wall, it is not possible to continue defending Eisenburg. Princesse Sigilind will lead the bulk of our forces in breaking out of this siege to rendezvous with Comte Olivar's army. A small contingent will remain with the King to screen the withdrawal, then retreat to the citadelle and continue to hold it against the enemy. Half of our number will join the Princesse and lead the break through. Letnant Vignolles?"
A large, strong, and fierce looking young man moved forward astride his horse, "Sire?"
"You will lead the break through force, and command the Væringjar in my absence. The other half of the our number will stay behind with the screening force, but with a different mission. We shall sally out of the Fire Gate and charge into the teeth of the enemy, throwing them off balance long enough for our other forces to act. Princesse Alitrude and myself will lead this attack."
Hauptman Xaintrailles glanced at Alitrude, but it did not look like she would say anything. "The First and Third companies are with me. Second and Fourth will stay here with Letnant Vignolles and await Princesse Sigilind. Move out!"
The Væringjar soberly nodded their acknowledgement and separated as indicated. The Princesse dammed herself for being unable to speak up and encourage them, but she feared that if they heard terror in her voice it would sap their morale. She could see that her silent presence did give them some increased strength and spirit, it would have to suffice.
Few of the Væringjar talked as the two chosen companies rode out of the citadelle and down the hill into the city. They rode purposely, in near flawless formation, looking grand and formidable. Suddenly, Alitrude looked up at Xaintrailles and asked, "What will be our target? Surely we are not to simply go out and kill Graikians until we are overcome?"
The Hauptman shook his head, and extended his arm to point at the break in the wall near the Fire Gate. "The King of Graikia watches the battle near that breach, a ways behind the Gate. He is within arbalest shot, but not so close that anyone can cap him. The King is our target, we shall charge at his banners and cut our way through his troops."
The Princesse laughed bitterly, "You know that we are never going to make it that far."
"We aren't," he smiled. "I know that, you know that, but he doesn't know that."
She laughed again, this time sincerely, "Fair enough I guess."
They rode on, and all were quiet on their arrival at the Fire Gate, for every horseman was lost in thought. They restlessly awaited the signal while the sounds of clashing metal and dying men drifted in from elsewhere in the city. The Princesse struggled to steel herself as feelings of sickness, sadness, fear, and despair washed over her in succession. She would have liked to look confident, but could barely manage the pretension of stoicism. Then at long last, a horn sounded from afar. She looked up and saw flags waving in the gate house.
Alitrude drew a sharp breath and exclaimed, "That's the signal!" The others perked up and leaned forward in their saddles, tensing muscles, bringing lances down to bear. With a supreme act of will, she steadied her nerves and found the courage to raise her lace up into the air and shout, "Væringjar des Princes, with me! For Ellendia, for the Nords!" A roaring cheer followed her words, the gates flew open, and the Væringjar galloped out with their Princesse and Hauptman at the lead.
There is little as terrifying as a charge by heavy horse: A wall of lances and armour, half again the height of man, bearing down with incredible speed and force, accompanied by a terrible thunder of hooves. Caught out of dense phalanxes or shield walls, infantry can be mowed down like grass. To face the stampede of man, horse, and steel is so unnerving that only the most disciplined troops hold will ranks before it. Having been caught completely by surprise, the enemy did not even try.
A gap formed in the opposing host as their troops struggled to get out of the way, and the horsemen rode into it. Those not fast enough were skewered by lances or crushed under hoof. Terrible as it was, however, the fear inspired did not suffice to rout an entire wing of the Graikian army. As they drove into their enemies, the Væringjar's momentum began to wear down, and resistance became thicker and stronger. Eventually, at great cost, the Graikians ground the charge down down to a halt.
"Close ranks! Close ranks!" Alitrude could hear the Hauptman barking orders. He was signalling with his sword, for his lance had broken, but as promised he was still fighting by her side. The Væringjar obeyed, forming up tightly, presenting an unbroken line before the enemy. They resumed their advance, stabbing and cutting their way through the mass of men, protected by armour, horse, and shield. Lacking any cavalry nearby to match them, the Graikians resorted to attacking the horses, but even dismounted the Væringjar proved fearsome combatants, and the advance continued as more of their number fought on foot.
Again and again, almost mechanically, the Princesse thrust her lance into one faceless enemy after another, killing with no hope that it would end. Suddenly her lance broke, and in the shock of the moment she found herself unhorsed. The Graikians rushed to her, and she thought herself dead, but the Hauptmann interposed himself between them, protecting her life with his, slashing at all who would attack his Princesse. After short and valiant stand, he caught a spear with his throat, and the gallant old soldier fell.
"Noooo!" Alitrude screamed, and sword in hand dove into them while the surviving Væringjar swelled behind her. She swiftly hewed down two, three, four of the enemy's number before a big man with a mace took a swing at her. Reflexively raising her shield to block, both it and her arm broke from the impact. Crying out in pain and rage and sorrow, the Princesse killed him and another with such fury that her sword shattered as well. She fell on her knees, injured, broken and sobbing, but something in Mathilde Alitrude Radgridr refused to give up. At that moment she drew Second Breath.
Alia gasped as a flaming golden-white aura rose up around her, and everyone drew back in astonishment. Her eyes opened wide, shining with inner light, and a mark of the crowned sun burst forth on her forehead. The aura grew brighter and brighter in intensity, becoming almost blinding. It climbed up high into the sky, forming a hazy tower of white flames, and the clouds parted before it. Shimmering wings of brilliant gold and crimson sprouted from her back, unfurling themselves to their full majesty. The wings flapped with such force that every man within forty paces was knocked flat, and a fiery bird sprung from Alia's body. It soared skyward on her wings, spreading them wide against the shining sun.
The Princesse stood up, reborn as a demigod, and surging with power. She locked eyes on the not distant flags and banners indicating the Graikian King. Grasping the hilt of her broken sword tightly, she dashed forward with a piercing cry. Behind her, the confused Væringjar got up and followed; in front of her, the terrified Graikians once more did their best to get out of the way. Killing several men without thought, she charged right up to the Royal Guard and fell on them. They fought well, bravely, but mere mortals are nothing before the Chosen of the Sun, and she swiftly cut through them.
At last, Alia came upon the King of Graikia and hewed him down with a single blow. The Graikians and Væringjar watched in shock as the King's lifeless body collapsed upon the ground. With broken sword and broken shield this golden woman had single handedly made mockery of an army. The battlefield grew eerily quiet, and for several moments nobody spoke or moved, so entranced where they by the sight. Then the cry was finally taken up, "Anathema! Anathema! Anathema!" and all before her turned and fled. In an instant, the Graikian army simply dissolved into a stampeding mob.
Alia turned around to face the few survivors of the Væringjar contingent, and they regarded her with mixed awe and apprehension. Her flaming aura had begun to fade, but she still appeared as a titan of legend. It seemed like a life time had passed since they had charged out of the city gates together, and they silently stared at each other's bloodied and battered forms. At long last the Princesse dropped her shattered sword, and undid her straps of her smashed shield, letting it fall to the ground. She took off her helmet, revealing a face covered in tears, sweat, and blood. Then she smiled at them. It was the same beautiful smile they all knew, the same shining eyes. As the aura continued to fade, and Alia began to look almost human, she suddenly started to laugh.
The Væringjar looked around among themselves, confounded, but after a few moments they got the joke: They were alive. They who thought themselves among the dead, alive! To a man they joined in laughter as the tension flowed out of them and powerful emotions shook their bodies. Their cackling joy rose to a powerful crescendo, and the Graikians close enough to hear hastened to get away from it. They laughed, and cried, and hugged each other amidst the still oozing corpses and gore of the battlefield, uncaring of anything but for the fact that they were all alive. After some time Alia finally quieted and fell down on her knees. She looked up at the glorious shining sun, smiled a sad but joyous smile, and collapsed into unconsciousness.
Last edited by Lys on Fri Aug 19, 2011 10:46 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
#144
Nice bg, though I'm not sure I like the idea of unExalted mortals simply arriving with flying ships shortly after the Contagion - that wouldn't have been kosher with the Shogunate. Most magitech, especially on the magnitude of ships, would simply have been confiscated by Dragon-Blooded or Lunars either before or after the twin catastrophes, and there's no way they'd have discovered it on their own. The Haslanti League had Lunar guidance and centuries to do it, after all.
Also, that's not a big nitpick, but could you please stick to one naming thematic? Having a mix of Japanese, French, German and Greek-sounding names sounds strange (especially as a native French speaker). I won't force you if it stifles your creativity, but it irks me a bit
Also, that's not a big nitpick, but could you please stick to one naming thematic? Having a mix of Japanese, French, German and Greek-sounding names sounds strange (especially as a native French speaker). I won't force you if it stifles your creativity, but it irks me a bit
#145
Pretty much that entire writeup ran on rule of cool. They were supposed to be First Age airships. I figure they just stole them from the dying Shogunate. How a bunch of mortals, desdended from several Solar Half-Castes but mortals nevertheless, managed to jack a fleet of airships from the Terrestrials? Well, that´s another story. I think it´s fair to say that the Contagion and Fair Folk helped. By the time they got to the River Province they proved themselves too useful, and dangerous, for the Seventh Legion to confiscate their hardware.The Nomad wrote:Nice bg, though I'm not sure I like the idea of unExalted mortals simply arriving with flying ships shortly after the Contagion - that wouldn't have been kosher with the Shogunate. Most magitech, especially on the magnitude of ships, would simply have been confiscated by Dragon-Blooded or Lunars either before or after the twin catastrophes, and there's no way they'd have discovered it on their own. The Haslanti League had Lunar guidance and centuries to do it, after all.
You forgot Old Frisian. ^_~Also, that's not a big nitpick, but could you please stick to one naming thematic? Having a mix of Japanese, French, German and Greek-sounding names sounds strange (especially as a native French speaker). I won't force you if it stifles your creativity, but it irks me a bit
French, German, and Frisian are actually thematically linked. Look up a map of the Frankish Kingdom: France, most of Germany, and the Low Countries are within its borders. Just be glad I'm not throwing in Occitanian, Lombardian, Basque, and Catalonian as well. Gods help us if I ever decide to play an Austro-Hungarian thematic something.
The one word in Japanese is supposed to be a stand-in for the River Tongue, since the Lookshy has a bit of a Japan vibe to it I thought it appropriate. The Hokuoujin didn't call themselves that originally, they just adopted the local's word for them as their word for themselves. I can call them something else, they just won't be as cool (because random Japanese is cruise control for cool).
As for the Greek word, I actually was going to use the Frisian word for "Companions" but it sounded lame, and nobody would have gotten the historical reference. So I went with what Megas Alexandros called his Companions and left it at that.
The other historical reference, btw, is that the the two named members of the Hetairoi have the names of two of Joan of Arc's lieutenants. They commanded the French vanguard in the Loire Campaign and led it to victory at the Battle of Patay.
Oh, and Eisenburg means the same thing as Isengard, except in German instead of Old English.
^-^
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
#146
Sorry, mortals don't get to 'rule of cool' their way out of trouble. Letting mortals getting nice toys in between the Seventh Legion and the Realm doesn't fly (in fact, letting a whole tribe of Solar-descended people survive the Shogunate less than a couple thousand miles from the extermination camp that would become Marama's Fell is already stretching credibility). Drakkars will do just fine ;)
#147
Guess it's my turn huh? Well I haven't had time to write between work and not having a computer, so I'll just give you the summary:
Thalia was a research scholar in the library of the (name of university) in (insert kingdom here). As a forward-thinking and self-styled "progressive" nation, they didn't put too much stock into history or whatnot, leaving Thalia's job rather overlooked. Still, an assignment came when it was time to celebrate the 10th year of the ruler's reign: find the old history of the capital city and the kingdom and show how it was awesome.
Not expecting to find much, Thalia actually found old travelers' journals and other stuff which indicated hidden ruins (insert whatever necessary here). One site in particular stood out, said to contain marvels of the First Age. So Thalia hired some help and set out on a quick expedition to see it for herself. As they got closer to what was eventually revealed to be a hidden manse, her companions got spooked and ditched her. She pressed on alone, navigating the place, avoiding traps and tricks, and eventually making it to the center. Where she went not for the piles of gold and jewelry, but the single bookshelf. And as she started to read, a new comprehension dawned on her, as she took Second Breath.
Then some stuff about how she goes back, how the cult starts up, and some tie-in top meeting the others I suppose.
Qiick and dirty, but there's a general outline. I can make it pretty later.
So how did we all meet?
Thalia was a research scholar in the library of the (name of university) in (insert kingdom here). As a forward-thinking and self-styled "progressive" nation, they didn't put too much stock into history or whatnot, leaving Thalia's job rather overlooked. Still, an assignment came when it was time to celebrate the 10th year of the ruler's reign: find the old history of the capital city and the kingdom and show how it was awesome.
Not expecting to find much, Thalia actually found old travelers' journals and other stuff which indicated hidden ruins (insert whatever necessary here). One site in particular stood out, said to contain marvels of the First Age. So Thalia hired some help and set out on a quick expedition to see it for herself. As they got closer to what was eventually revealed to be a hidden manse, her companions got spooked and ditched her. She pressed on alone, navigating the place, avoiding traps and tricks, and eventually making it to the center. Where she went not for the piles of gold and jewelry, but the single bookshelf. And as she started to read, a new comprehension dawned on her, as she took Second Breath.
Then some stuff about how she goes back, how the cult starts up, and some tie-in top meeting the others I suppose.
Qiick and dirty, but there's a general outline. I can make it pretty later.
So how did we all meet?
#148
Drakkars don´t fly is the thing.The Nomad wrote:Sorry, mortals don't get to 'rule of cool' their way out of trouble. Letting mortals getting nice toys in between the Seventh Legion and the Realm doesn't fly (in fact, letting a whole tribe of Solar-descended people survive the Shogunate less than a couple thousand miles from the extermination camp that would become Marama's Fell is already stretching credibility). Drakkars will do just fine ;)
We seem to have different conceptualizations regarding the setting. Great Plague hits, Fair Folk invade, Shogunate dissolves, society breaks down, the ratio of artifacts per person goes way up. Result? Lots of violent paranoid thugs running around with First Age goodies, like Mad Max with essence artillery. Eventually order and civilization are restored, but all the shiny toys break down from lack of maintenace infrastructure, except in places like Lookshy and the Realm.
Furthermore, the way I figured it is that neither Lookshy nor the Realm would have gained anything from confiscating the airship fleet. It always seemed to me that everyone was stretched pretty thin back then. Why would they take casualites they cannot afford to take ships they cannot crew? Better to just buy off the people already crewing them, and Lookshy did the better job of it.
What does it matter anyway? It was centuries ago, Ellendia doesn't have airships anymore. That they used to it's just fluff and plot hooks.
Also, more than 2000 miles from Marama's Fell? That's easy, the eastern coast fo the Haslanti League is that far, and that's just within the constraints of the modern Creation's North.
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
#149
Why would the ratio of artifact per person rise? Artifacts and installations get raided and destroyed by Fair Folk, the people with the technical know-how to operate or maintain them die in droves or the installation are crowded by hungry ghosts. A semi-barbarian people which would manage to just take over an airship fleet just like that? Nope. I don't buy it.Lys wrote: We seem to have different conceptualizations regarding the setting. Great Plague hits, Fair Folk invade, Shogunate dissolves, society breaks down, the ratio of artifacts per person goes way up. Result? Lots of violent paranoid thugs running around with First Age goodies, like Mad Max with essence artillery. Eventually order and civilization are restored, but all the shiny toys break down from lack of maintenace infrastructure, except in places like Lookshy and the Realm.
A mercenary people which could tomorrow be bought off by the Realm as well. And unlike the Realm, they're only humans - albeit with traces of Anathema blood - who die well to a Dragon Vortex Attack.Furthermore, the way I figured it is that neither Lookshy nor the Realm would have gained anything from confiscating the airship fleet. It always seemed to me that everyone was stretched pretty thin back then. Why would they take casualites they cannot afford to take ships they cannot crew? Better to just buy off the people already crewing them, and Lookshy did the better job of it.
As long as it's only background-dressing fluff and not used to, say, build a fleet with a few repair Craft Charms behind my back, I'm willing to suspend disbelief if it pleases you.What does it matter anyway? It was centuries ago, Ellendia doesn't have airships anymore. That they used to it's just fluff and plot hooks.
I'm just careful because I let once let too much leeway and my generosity got abused (the players, in fact, posted their little scam without ever consulting with me first and I discovered a nearly two-pages long fait accompli - well, it would have been one if I hadn't set things straight but it kinda soured the milk. I've been more watchful since. Besides that, I'm very careful as to what I give to players, because as a player I also hate having shinies taken from me, so I avoid doing this to players and weigh my decisions with regards to story needs).
@Hawkwings: will do, I guess. What are her projects for the future already?
I guess frigid's and Cavalier's character will have heard from a new, shining warlord who spooked off a whole invading army. After investigating, a set of circumstances which I will let you determine brought you three to reveal your nature to each other. Hawkwings' character, on the other hand... it'll be a little harder. Perhaps the Manse's operation is linked to a secondary one and required Thalia to investigate inside Alia's lands, she was captured and interrogated (or fended off mortal assailants until Alia arrived).
Last edited by The Nomad on Thu Jul 21, 2011 8:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
#150
Since the Great Contagion hit first, well before the Fair Folk invasion, for some time the losses of people would have drastically outpaced the loss of artifacts. It's only after the Deathlords invited in the Raksha that creation started unraveling and artifacts would have been lost on a large scale. It's not impossible that a Shogunate outpost in the North might have been wiped out by the plague, and some time later a band of refugees came across their still-operational airships. With the forces available to the local daimyos being wiped out by the plague they simply might have been unable to spare the manpower to go pick up all the equipment marooned that way.
That said, having some non-mortals involved somehow might help a bit. It was very common for local gods to accompany columns of refugees and that might have been the case here. In particular some northern gods might have been close to Valineth, god of airships, and so could have had relevant skills to help their band of refugees. It might also be the case that the Northmen had some outcaste Dragon-Bloods who attached themselves to their column, just trying to get away from the mass death engulfing the region. They might have been able to help operate the airships, especially if they were deserters from the Shogunate armies. Finally, if there's no other rationalization, "A Lunar did it" might work. The Northmen might be completely unaware of how some powerful Lunar elder arranged for them to take the airships and flee south as part of some long-term plan to socially engineer the River Province using the cover the Fair Folk attack.
That said, having some non-mortals involved somehow might help a bit. It was very common for local gods to accompany columns of refugees and that might have been the case here. In particular some northern gods might have been close to Valineth, god of airships, and so could have had relevant skills to help their band of refugees. It might also be the case that the Northmen had some outcaste Dragon-Bloods who attached themselves to their column, just trying to get away from the mass death engulfing the region. They might have been able to help operate the airships, especially if they were deserters from the Shogunate armies. Finally, if there's no other rationalization, "A Lunar did it" might work. The Northmen might be completely unaware of how some powerful Lunar elder arranged for them to take the airships and flee south as part of some long-term plan to socially engineer the River Province using the cover the Fair Folk attack.