The Nation RP!

[Victorian Style]

http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...on-sheets-only!

http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...-New-Nation-RP

http://us10.chatzy.com/14838002275558



This is where we play, ladies and Gentlemen! Do try to keep it clean, and above all play fairly!

[DEMoGorgon47]

(Welp, since there is no official OP, I guess I will just have to start it)

No-Man's Land: A Few Miles Off the Western Avarian Boarder

The lush green field were littered with bodies, and the river running through was stained with blood. In the center, upon a small rolling hill, the Avarian flag billowed in the gentle but strong breeze. The colors of an Avarian victory high in the air. Below, a tall Avarian of 6'11", wearing the traditional warrior garb stood gazing over the still battlefield with a hardened face. Upon his wrists were the braclets of an officer, in this case a General. This sturdy Avarian was none other than the Great General Leondis Rito himself, the prodiginal General of the Avarian Army. In the small valley, the Avarian soldiers were rounding the last of their foes.

It had been a campaign of expansionism on Avara's part, not against any established power, but against the indigenous of no-man's land: The Faun People. A primitive tribal race, they Fauns were in the way of progress. At first the Avarian government had attempted peaceful negotiations, but the Fauns stubbornly refused. As settlers trickled out of Avara nevertheless, the Fauns grew violent. It was only out of defense, or so Avarian Government said, that it had come to this.

A long line of Fauns stood in shackles. They had surrended when the battle became hopeless, and were now to become slaves to work on the various resource gathering plants back home in the nestingland. But this was only the first major victory in the no-man's land campaign, and the remaing Faun tribes were angrier than ever. There would be no peace for the Avarian Frontiersmen until this war was settled.

[supernicenow]

Hal'Vby - One of many port towns/cities that help out the economy of Vayr'Berijy. The trading ships, Ghy'dax are putting in fur, clay, cotton cloths, slaves, and salt to set sail to the Ogros nation. Ghy plans to get out of this is gems, pottery, and lumber if it's a success, she will have a trading alliance and the diplomat, Hny'Nmwr is going to be giving the trade to the leader maybe or someone in a high-rank. And Yux'beq, a other trading ship, is going to Avara, hopeful to get bamboo, fish, rice, wool, and herbs. While giving to them slaves, clay, cotton cloths, planets, and meats and Juaq'Li, a other diplomat, is going with the trading ship to talk to their leader or someone in the high ranks.As the ships are going on, this is an important thing in history because this will be their first time their ships touch the water and sail to a nation in order to trade with in 200 years.

Grt'Mwz - The Capital of Hal'Vby, where the king and queen are at for the beheaded of Cha'Lyo, The Bat Killings, killed around 20 people, ten men, six children, and four women. He was caught while hiding for the army, ordered by the queen for the 20 people's deaths, he was proved guilty and was sent to death and today was his last. Around 50,000 people were at the Hea'Pcil, A place where beheading is showed at, the Queen gave a speech about how sick people like him should be caught and killed. Cha was beheaded at 6:00 PM and was only 41 years old and in story with this, their will be a park for the 20 people died called, Dila'Rosc.
Summary/Important Points:

• The trading ships are going to Orgros and Avara to get and give their stuff and hopes of a alliance.
• The King and Queen are at the beheaded of Cha'Lyo, who killed 20 people, showing that it's has a crime rate and a park is being built for the loss.

[AquaArchie]

Clouds cover the sky, seemingly perfect for the occasion, a somewhat joyous one for the wealthy, however a new example for the oppressed slaves.A short man, even by Ogrossian standards is shackled to the ground, the headsmen sharpens his axe slowly, wanting to make sure he gets the perfect cut.While it wasn't a honorable death, it would at least be painless.The axe man didn't want to kill him, but knew that there were probably hundreds of others willing to take his place, most of which would most likely rather behead him with a dull rock than a axe, so he thought it best that he did the cruel task at hand.After what seemed like a eternity the axe man stood over the poor slave, readied his axe and waited for the command. Another eternity later King Orgayze waved his hand, and the axe fell down, with a sickening Schick as the audience was splattered with blood.Several members could be seen crying whilst the King and his cohorts ate the amount of food the slaves would receive in a month.(Hope this is okay...........)

[Heroguy]

The Citadel: Akar, Capital City of the Nation of Akarastle
"Glorious Leader?"
Ranchild looked up from his sumptuous meal of veal and wine, his eyebrow arched lightly. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
The soldier straightened his already-rigid back in front of the dining table, who's only occupant was the Glorious Leader (not counting his stare, which seemed like a whole other entity at times). "We, ah... We've sent the envoys, Sir."
The First Citizen nods a little, popping part of the veal into his mouth, pondering. The Leiutenant stood stock still, half scared out of his mind, half almost trembling with anticipation. Before him stood HIM; the First Citizen, the Glorious Leader, the master of their land! What would his orders be?
Finally, Victor finished chewing, washing it down with a little wine. "Good. You may go."
The soldier immediately turned and left, glad to be out. As much as the Leader's presence exalted him, it also gave him the strong feeling that something very bad was going to happen to people nearby.

Summary/Important Points
-The nations of Arvale, Vera'corein, Ogros, and Vayr'Berijy have been sent envoys from Akarastle. (You may either greet them with a forum post, or we can deal in a PM; it is your choice.)

[Lucious Veil]

(( For reference, this is kind of how I pictured Soren to look in my head:

Soren's eyes shot open. He was in a dark room―a cell most likely―it smelled of rotten flesh and decayed corpses. He tried to get up, but the squeaking sound of rusty iron on his wrists and ankles informed him that it was pointless to try to escape. "Well, well, well... My lord, you seem to be in quite the predicament, hm?" asked a deep, threatening voice that ran chills up and down Soren's spine. Weakly, he looked up. As he moved, however, he realized how much pain his entire body was in. His knees were weak, and his legs and arms had cuts, bruises, and dried blood on them. The voice laughed at Soren. In the corner of the room was a dim, flickering, torch light. The figure came into view, finally. It was a man―obviously―he had dark, tattered robes, that flowed around him and a hood that shrouded his face. He held his hands clasped around the hilt of a bastard sword, the tip pointed at the ground, the man stepped closer to Soren, "You seem weak: tired." He laughed once more.

Soren managed to create words, albeit his voice cracked and was barely above a whisper when he spoke, "Who... are you?" He asked weakly. Even moving his mouth to produce words hurt. Everything hurt. The man stepped even closer. With one hand, he held Soren's chin, forcing him to look up at his shrouded face. The man studied him closely for a moment, then let his head drop. Then, he stepped away from Soren, the clicking of his boots rang as he walked out of view.

"Your worst nightmare." The figure said shortly, and he returned with a piece of parchment, "These are my--" He began, but was interrupted as a blast of wind took the door to the cell down. Immediately, light flowed into the room, and Soren was blinded momentarily. A man ran in, throwing the figure to the ground. He grabbed the key ring off of the table, and began unlocking Soren's chains.

"Soren! Soren, it's me!" The man said, and Soren's sight began to come back as he looked into his lover's face. General Ezra Gregory was a tall, slim man, much like Soren. Although Ezra had a darker complexion to him and short, cropped, black hair. "Soren!" He said again as he hugged Soren, now free, tightly. Slowly, Ezra stood up, Soren still in his arms. "Soren... Thank the Goddess you're safe! Come on, we've got to get out of here." Ezra handed Soren two short swords and his age-worn, brown cloak. Soren, now feeling abruptly refreshed and alive, twirled the swords in his hands as he ran out after Ezra.

Although Soren was aware and certain of himself, he felt... unsure; lost and confused. He had never seen this place before... and he knew every square inch of his nation―Goddess knew he had had the time to learn it. "Ezra! Ezra, where are we going?" He asked, but before he could get an answer, they were stopped by a group of charging footmen. Each of the men were armored to the teeth, and held a long sword and an iron shield. They charged forward at them. There were at least half a dozen. Against the two tired men, they had hardly stood a chance. Well, the hardly stood a chance if they were as untrained as the footmen. Soren on his own had, literally, centuries of training, making him the most skilled swordsman in the nation. Ezra hadn't received nearly as long of training, but was still talented: he had a talent with a blade, that was certain.

Soren twirled his blades as one of the men charged toward him. With his right sword, he made a slashing arc towards the neck, immediately blocked by the footman. Soren smirked, knowing quite well that he had already won. He kicked the man in the crotch, then with his left sword, he slashed across his chest. He returned back to a normal stance, then slashed in an X across the man's chest, throwing him to the ground. Soren turned around: one of the footmen was behind him, as well. He ducked, barely missing the blade by a fraction of a second, he drop kicked the soldier, forcing him onto his back. That was one of the disadvantages of armor: The ones wearing it fell fast. Quickly, not wasting any time, Soren ran his blades through the man's heart, ending him quickly. He pulled the blades out, certain the man was dead, he slashed diagonally with both of his blades across a third man's chest. He slammed the hilt of his left blade on the man's helmet, knocking his skull.

"Come on!" Ezra shouted, there were only one or two left, but there wasn't time. The men kept running. They turned into a hallway, but as they turned, they were thrown across the room against a wall with a blast of dark energy.

"You shall not pass!" The hooded figure shouted. He charged at Ezra, gripping his throat. He let out a huff, squeezing so tight that blood ran down his hand. A few seconds later, he released Ezra's dead body, letting him fall to the ground. "Now... as for you, my lord." The cloaked man turned to Soren, but just as he was about to land a finishing blow...

~~

Soren shot out of bed, his chest drenched in sweat, eyes flying open, he looked around, bewildered. He was in his chambers, just as he had been, he was only dreaming... A dream... like hell, that was a nightmare. He thought as he removed the blanket from him. He grabbed his shirt, quickly buttoning it up, when his adviser, Elric Monfürd walked in. "My lord." He said, bowing shortly as he walked in. Elric was an elderly man, in his later 60's of age with graying hair, and wrinkling skin. Soren continuously reminded him that Mr. Monfürd was one of the wisest, and most thoughtful men he had ever met. "My lord, it is almost time for the ceremony. General Gregory says he will meet you at the balcony and that he should be there when you arrive."

Soren nodded, "Right. Thank you, Elric. I'll be out shortly." He said as he grabbed his coat off a hook, tying the straps as he followed Elric out.

Elric looked back at Soren as they walked. Breaking the silence, he spoke roughly, "Sir, I assume you have a speech prepared? As well as the candidate for the High Priest chosen? I need not remind you how important of a position it is to the people! It shows them that you do not seek to control everything in their lives, rather that they have religious officials as well that they can turn to!" Soren nodded, silently agreeing with the elderly gentleman.

They stopped at an intricately designed doorway―behind it was the terrace where Soren spoke to the crowd during times of importance. Elric unlocked it, shoving it open with a grunt. Soren bowed thankfully at him, then walked forward. Already, a large crowd had amassed before him, filling the room with cheers of the citizens below. Soren stepped up to the podium, placing hands on either side of it, he waited as the cheers died down. "Carvion of Vera'corein! I am your leader, Soren Corrière! As you know, our beloved High Priest Titus Crossand has passed away recently..." He stopped a moment, letting the news sink in for those who didn't already know. He continued, "Now, as you all know, whenever a High Priest passes, a new one is to be chosen among his acolytes. These three gentlemen have proven to be worthy of the role Please, welcome Acolytes Jacob Marley, Marcus Silverlaine, and Alfred Laerz. Along with the Archbishop Alphonse Tiernan, I have chosen one of these young men to fulfill the role of High Priest of the Faith!"

The crowd began cheering again, and Soren waited patiently until the crowd died down. He smiled, then spoke once more, "Please, welcome Marcus Silverlaine! High Priest of the Faith!" The crowd all cheered in unison for their new High Priest. Religion was a major part of their society, and was not taking lightly by any of the Carvion. Marcus was a younger man, in his late 20's of age with dark-blond hair and lighter skin than most Carvion. He, along with his fellow members of The Church of the Faith, wore the simple white robes of a churchgoer, with each of their hoods drawn up. The Archbishop walked to stand beside Soren proudly. Archbishop Alphonse was an elderly gentleman, in his mid 50's of age, with graying hair like Elric, but not his skin wasn't as aged as Elric's. Unlike the boys on the other side of the terrace, Alphonse's hood was down, resting on his back.

He faced the crowd, "People of Vera'corein! I know that the late High Priest Titus Crossand touched each of your hearts with his powerful sermons and his heartwarming talk. But I consider myself to be a friend of each of these boys. It was very difficult to choose one of them to lead you in the Faith, but Marcus has proven himself tremendously among his brothers. I am very proud of this young man, and pleased to serve under him amongst my brothers of the Faith." The crowd cheered again as the Archbishop stepped back into the shadows. The ceremony was adjourned, and would later be taken down into the Main Chapel where the Archbishop would properly name the High Priest as such. But for now, Soren had business to attend to, and a bondmate to find... Ezra had not been at the ceremony, an act disrespectful to the people, to himself, and to Soren as a bondmate.

[The Nexerus]

The 'S'laa Desert', near the border between S'laaeth and Vayr'Berijy,

Valencii Raijk Kaklet stood atop her horse in the sands of the S'laa desert, flanked in either direction by ten horsemen armoured in leather and wielding scimitars. The Valencii's horse was white, her hide mixed in with the pure white sands of the deserts near Vlandor. Where the company was now, though, the sands lost their white in favour of an admixture of colours and textures. Vlandor sand was made of Vlanstone, and only Vlanstone. Perfectly smooth and perfectly white. The sands of the south and north did not ring as true. The soldiers at Raijk's command, men of the Valencate, were escorting their Valencii to the capital of the nation bordering S'laaeth's southern sands: Vayr'Berijy. The realm was populated by humans, a relatively common sight in the port-cities, but still foreign enough to the S'laa to warrant precaution. One could never be too careful when braving any part of the S'laa desert that was not populated by the S'laa. It meant that the Blessed Traven's scimitar had never bloodied the sands here. The land had never been purified.

Valencii Raijk herself wore an artist-woven red gown, embedded with rubies and other beautiful, shining gems that complimented both the Vlaencii's fine dress and her lovely scales. Unlike the biological members of the Kaklet family, Raijk's scales were a bright, fiery red. She stood out among her midnight blue scaled children. They always stood stark contrast to their surroundings, whether in the deserts, cities or sea—it did not surprise Raijk that they stood out among their mother as well. Raijk knew she'd never have any children that were coloured like her; her husband's hereditary family, the Kaklets, had the noblest lineage of any family in S'laaeth for a reason. When a Kaklet and a non-Kaklet married, the child would adopt the Kaklet parent's colours, no matter what. Kaklet genes always flowed true. Perhaps this was fortunate for S'laath, as the Kaklets also happened to be the most talented of any of the S'laa noble families. A Kaklet could just as easily cast a spell from childhood as the oldest and wisest of the commoner S'laa could from their last day in the world. Truer still, a Kaklet youth could match swords with the best of any low-born family. Even in the arts, Kaklets lit the way, painting the most beautiful scenes and moulding the most beautiful sculptures S'laaeth had ever known. Raijk was lucky to have married into the family, she reminded herself every day. Lucky to be among those born into perfection from her, but not sharing their talents with her. It was enough to make a woman quite... sour.

"Vanguard!" Raijk yelled, her voice echoing throughout the emptiness of the quickly flattening desert. The man at the front of each line of horsemen at either side stopped immediately, and turned their heads to face their Valencii. The soldiers behind each vanguard followed suit, stopping their trot and coming to a full stop. "I see it up ahead. The city lies forward", Raijk continued, her voice taking on a particularly acid tone as she reached her final word. The S'laa had always disliked Grt'Mwz to an extent. The S'laa deserts ought to be populated by S'laa cities, with S'laa inhabitants speaking the S'laa tongue. The unclean sands of Vayr'Berijy offered up Grt'Mwz as if by some show of contest. The Blessed Traven taught that no foreign tribe should ever defile the deserts of the S'laa. This city, some thought, was a testament to defilement. A testament to the 'enduring and ingenuitive' nature of humanity. A testament to something the S'laa were content to live alongside, but would prefer not to have ever existed at all. After their Valencii's acknowledgement of the city, the company rode hard to reach its gates. Raijk was impatient, and it wasn't as if a slow entry would save them any face from the locals. Reaching the gate, Raijk spoke with the first guard she could find. "I am Valencii Raijk Kaklet, husband of Valenc Ardinm Kaklet, and protector of the sands of the S'laa. My guards and I come seeking audience with your highest of Masters".

Summary: The Queen of S'laaeth has visited Grt'Mwz with twenty guards, and requests personal audience with the monarchs of Vayr'Berijy.

[Magmas]

The City of Sylva, the Great Forest, Sylva

In the council hall in the City of Sylva, hidden from even the birds by the trees that shrouded the city, the council of Fae was meeting. It was a reasonably casual affair; the great oaken doors stood open so any who wished to could watch. There were a good number of elves in the room, mostly petty nobles or army officers. Within their ranks, drow, hooded or scarfed, were dotted. The few faeries and Atronachs that bothered to turn up hovered above the masses to get a better view.

The council themselves sat at a table, slightly elevated above the rest of the room. Perhaps "sat" was not quite the right word however, as the faerie queen Lilith was leaning back, her feet on the table and her wings outstretched, Lord Elbert was against the back wall and Sage Khorpe was floating above them all, hissing slightly as the heat from her flaming body mixed with the chill air.

Lady Ellisia cleared her throat. "I declare this meeting of the Council of Fae, under the Call of the Light and the Call of Harmony, in session. If any member of the Council hath an issue of importance, may they speak without fear of interruption." Her voice was rich and authoritative as she uttered the well rehearsed line.
Elbert stepped forward slightly. He had a dry grin on his face, but that wasn't really anything new. It was likely he would wear the same smile if he were murdering an old woman or stealing from a child, not that he would; he had minions for that sort of thing. He looked over the crowd, though he still stood behind the other council members. "My... informants have told me that our good Avarian friends have been crusading across the lands again. One of the Generals has a taste for drow women and may have mentioned some plans in front of them. They are attacking the fauns, poor sods..." He stopped, pulling out a pocket watch, obviously imported and probably worth more gold than all the creatures currently in the Great Forest, hide and all. "In fact, it may be over already. How, my fine council members, do we react to such a violent attack against our forest-dwelling brethren?" A spectator could actually feel the foul slush of passive-aggressiveness oozing from the Drow Overlord. Queen Lilith visibly shuddered in her seat.

Ellisia looked to the Sages, on her left, who were in deep conversation then turned to Lilith who, although still appearing slightly ill from the speech, had recovered enough to return to her lounging position."Well... erm... what is the opinion of the Faeries in this matter?" She asked, obviously struggling to regain the power as leader of the Council that had been completely destroyed by Lord Elbert.
"Obviously, we should not react. Any act of violence and they'll turn their ugly, conquering head towards our little island and there is no way we can stand against that beast. It would be like a Vatab sloth attacking a lynx... which was armed with a cannon and had ten more lynx backing it up. Madness! Pure madness!" The riled faerie stared daggers at the drow lord, which would have been quite daunting had she not been 1 foot and 6 inches tall with the face of a child.
The sages, who had come to a decision by this point seemed a touch more liberal.
Silphis began, in his deep, dulcet tones. "We have decided to advise you, Lady Ellisia, not to take any military action against the Avarian nation. We believe them to be within their own restrictions when attacking a neutral party."
Naltu chimed in at this point. "However, we do believe that perhaps we may converse with the Avarians, in the hopes that we can help the fauns in a more diplomatic way, without damaging our relationship with our neighbours."
Khorpe had remained silent throughout the discussion, which was odd. She did not agree with her fellow sages and had decided not to voice her opinion to the rest of the Council, instead quietly burning (literally) with rage.

The decision had been sent back to Ellisia. "I agree with the three sages. We shall send a peace envoy to Arvale in the hopes of aiding the fauns. All for?" Lilith raised her hand, along with Silphis and Naltu. "And all against?" The hands of Khorpe and Elbert rose. "The motion has gained the majority vote and shall be passed." With that, the meeting was over. Details would be discussed later and a representative would be chosen, most likely either Lady Ellisia or one of the Sages for their more liberal views. The crowds dissipated and the Council was left to converse more colloquially.

[supernicenow]

The 'S'laa Desert - The desert near the boarder of S'laath, where the sand hill are form and then gone, the boarders of Vayr'Berijy are always guarded with guards in case of a war or just for safely. The S'laath are like by the King and Queen but they know she hates the nation due to expands of the nation touched the boarders of many nations most were fine with the King and Queen but the S'laa isn't joy with it. The King and Queen never talked to them because if they say one thing wrong, it's war and the small nation isn't ready for one. Valencii Raijk Kaklet would said "I am Valencii Raijk Kaklet, husband of Valenc Ardinm Kaklet, and protector of the sands of the S'laa. My guards and I come seeking audience with your highest of Masters." The guard would say now, "Yes, Miss Raijk, The King and Queen just left to go back to their homes. If you just follow us we will show up where it is." The guard would just get some of his friends and lead her to the manor now. The manor would be look so amazing now with the palm trees lining up to the gate and the guard would open the gate and let Raijk in now and show the way to meeting room, over looking the desert hills and the palm trees now. And the guards would leave the room now and the King would say now, "Raijk, What beings you here today.".
Summary/Important Points -

• The S'laa enter the captial with her guards.
• The King and Queen are sitting down and talking to her.

[Minime]

War Chief Sal'vanis stood on the coast, looking in the direction of the one of the many unclaimed islands near Songala. It's inhabitants were refusing to listen to reason, but more specifically, they weren't backing down in fear of the Songalan warriors. This was typical Songalan diplomacy; show a display of force, intimidate the enemy, bully them into getting what the Songalan wanted. When this didn't work, there was only one other route that they were capable of following; war.

"Today!" Sal'vanis turned to his warband, shield and sword in hand, "We show these boys what it means to be men!"

"Hooah!" The sons and daughters of the tribe shouted in unison, raising their swords, before the warband began to board the raiding ships destined for the island.

"To war!" He smirked. The battle would be short, and the enemy would surely be routed, but that was the problem. Where was the challenge? Where was the honor in killing such weaklings? The War Chief's people had been annexing local tribes into the Songalan Empire under the command of the Head Chieftain, and he should consider it an honor his tribe was one of the few to be chosen for such a job. But recently, in the battle, they've had no one worthy of their abilities.

"Disembark! Charge, to glory brothers!" Before Sal'vanis knew it, they had already reached their destination, and one of his commanders were issuing orders. They met with no resistance on the beach and quickly marched inland, where they began their sweep of the area. The standard routine of a Songalan raid was to burn anything that could be used, target the infrastructure of any tribe and kill the men. But this time, the villages were abandoned and void of anything. No men were to be found, no men, no women and no children. Where was everyone?

"Ambush!" Someone soon shouted, answering Sal'vanis' question. The War Chief quickly drew his sword and rallied what warriors he could, doing the one thing Sologans were best at; charging headfirst into the fray. They caught the islanders off guard, who were expecting them to go on the defensive, and began to cut deep into their forces. The enemy had wooden spears, rusty swords and axes. Compared to the Chief's warband, who were all experienced fighters, the ambushers had only just took up arms. Out of respect though he and his men wasted no time decimating those who dared to face them, granting them all a quick death. After all, the islanders deserved some credit for their bold attack, but Sal'vanis just wished they had the intelligence to realize the battle was lost before it even began..

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"My ambitions are high, my friends!" Head Chief Alani took a seat at the campfire with his advisers and a good bulk of the major tribal and clan leaders. They had gathered for a war meeting per his request and were eager to hear his plans for the future, for a war meeting that required the combined strength of all the tribes was a rare occasion, "The previous Chieftains were content with where our borders were, but they were weak! Like all good warriors I seek a challenge, an enemy who will not fold within days of war with us! To find such an enemy, and to prepare ourselves to meet such an enemy, we will begin a policy of expansion! One hundred fighters, no less, from each of your tribes will sail to the coasts south of us and claim as much land as they can. Any local natives that they come across will either be with us or against us. Make examples of those who would stand against us, and reward those who submit!"

The war meeting's attendees, most of them anyways, were all in favor of the campaign. Many Songalans were tired of fighting amongst themselves and with the defenseless locals on the coasts and the islands. It wouldn't take long to absorb the islands around them and secure the beaches, but Alani was worried about overextending his armies and the introduction of new troops that they hadn't fought with before. Without a doubt in his mind he knew he would have to rely on the natives taking up arms and joining his warriors in order to build up his forces, but it was only those living in the tundra and mountains he had high expectations for. For the others living in the fabled land of grass, he believed they were soft, but they could have their own uses..

His armies would need food. Sure they could live off the land and rely on whatever was around them, but hunting and fishing took up precious time that his armies could spend marching. He would seize the farmland of the plains and the rumored resources of the mountains, where he could supply quality armor and weaponry for his new recruits. The Head Chieftain would have nothing but the best for his troops.

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