I'm looking for a GM for this. I'd like to thank Obsidian Entertainment's Tyranny released in 2016 for inspiring this story of mine, particularly the lovely character of Kyros. Further inspiration is taken from the Nilfgaardians from Andrzej Sapkowski's Witcher novels, which was the basis for Ilya's conduct during warfare. If there's anything that inspired me for Ilya herself: imagine if Sauron and Trotsky had a kid. This story is meant to be satirical of fantasy worldbuilding whilst still being a sensible, reasonable world with working laws and rules to it.
(Prompt 1.)
This will be a recent addition that I haven't come up with an appropriate exposition for; in short, the gist of it is that a conniving business owner in a crestfallen city, once a jewel, now a banana republic with its republican roots rotted away. A legendary group of heroes arrives in the city, having already saved the world once before, and now experiencing a crisis of faith as they realize the world they saved has not been worth it- they discover Ilya, a populist with a mission of improving living conditions and restoring the glory of her homeland. Except, of course, she's actually an underhanded tyrant who takes advantage of them for her own interests, sending them out on 'quests' to undermine her enemies. I expect this to be a slow burn RP that grows increasingly complex as it goes on.
-=-
(Prompt 2.)
"Your life is the Overlord's to spend. Allow her to spend it wisely - with a rifle in hand."
It was a good slogan. All manner of lords and republican families wished that they'd thought of it first, or that they carried the same willful personality of its author that had lead so many to take her words to heart. Thousands had seen posters bearing those words and flocked to the creature's banner, drawing the same inevitable conclusion that too many before them had ignored.
The time of Men and Fay and Magic had come to an end, and as these things often go, it ends in bitter tears for the vanquished.
Ilya the Tyrant was a monster of vanity and pride, unbecoming of one so humbly brought up in the world. A simple waitress for a wayside tavern, she ought to have been ashamed of her origins as a commoner, and better yet, stayed where she belonged- demons paid little attention to such things though. Amongst their kind, cleverness and the drive to see their ambitions through is oft all that mattered. Where the denizens of Hell saw only a lowly wench dutifully serving drinks and meals, Ilya dreamt of conquest, of a world below and above bound together by the same tightly clenched hand. A new world built upon glorious war as much as legal codes and paved roads that all lead to the same place- her.
How she came to unite Hell is warped in mysticism as much as propaganda and metaphor. All manner of embellished stories exist that detail her rise from pettiness to empire, likely all of them false, only the most accomplished and academic of novelists sincerely knowing how she came to the world. For those who would form the bulkwark of the resistance against her, it mattered very little how she came to be in comparison to how they could strive to unmake her. To send her back to her home.
They couldn't.
Not for lack of effort. The charge of plated cavalry was devastating when put forward effectively, and the men-at-arms of the noble families of the world fought valiantly for their home and lieges, lifetimes of war and training and natural talent put to the test in the most grueling months of war in written history. It simply wasn't enough. Nothing could ever be enough, for as much earnesty and faith as they put in their blade-arms, the roaring of artillery and the lethal, drilled points of halberds and pikes was simply too much. Each defeat spread the trauma, the idea, blasphemous as it was, that this was to be their new world. Each raised levy and coalition of holy forces was swatted away, left in the mud as the war host moved on, inspiring a new flock of mortal volunteers with the promises of liberation, of the end of the slavery of the masses and the right to work one's own land. The means to resist was shrinking, and her invasion only grew, until, finally, when the clouds did clear, few knew why. Criers and riders carried word that Ilya was gone, banished from their world, and though it made little sense, and the causes for her exile ran rampant; all that mattered was that amongst those that remained, they were given a reprieve. A chance for breath.
Ilya the Tyrant was gone. Her lieutenants, generals, and warmasters were not.
A story of military strategy, the intricacies of governance and policy, statecraft, with Ilya's return to the world being the centerpiece of the story. Her removal from the world is one shrouded in mystery to be filled in as we see fit, and her attempt to retake the reins of her empire, to bind it back together after a catastrophic breakdown in leadership sees it shattered, forcing her into an underdog's tale of having to combat her former subjects and vassals as well as compete with the realms of the world who know that if she is to return to power, then it would spell doom for their chances of independence. I welcome interested individuals to contact me with quality introductions, preferably with Discord accounts for out-of-character conversations, and to share what they found themselves drawn to the prompt.
(Prompt 1.)
This will be a recent addition that I haven't come up with an appropriate exposition for; in short, the gist of it is that a conniving business owner in a crestfallen city, once a jewel, now a banana republic with its republican roots rotted away. A legendary group of heroes arrives in the city, having already saved the world once before, and now experiencing a crisis of faith as they realize the world they saved has not been worth it- they discover Ilya, a populist with a mission of improving living conditions and restoring the glory of her homeland. Except, of course, she's actually an underhanded tyrant who takes advantage of them for her own interests, sending them out on 'quests' to undermine her enemies. I expect this to be a slow burn RP that grows increasingly complex as it goes on.
-=-
(Prompt 2.)
"Your life is the Overlord's to spend. Allow her to spend it wisely - with a rifle in hand."
It was a good slogan. All manner of lords and republican families wished that they'd thought of it first, or that they carried the same willful personality of its author that had lead so many to take her words to heart. Thousands had seen posters bearing those words and flocked to the creature's banner, drawing the same inevitable conclusion that too many before them had ignored.
The time of Men and Fay and Magic had come to an end, and as these things often go, it ends in bitter tears for the vanquished.
Ilya the Tyrant was a monster of vanity and pride, unbecoming of one so humbly brought up in the world. A simple waitress for a wayside tavern, she ought to have been ashamed of her origins as a commoner, and better yet, stayed where she belonged- demons paid little attention to such things though. Amongst their kind, cleverness and the drive to see their ambitions through is oft all that mattered. Where the denizens of Hell saw only a lowly wench dutifully serving drinks and meals, Ilya dreamt of conquest, of a world below and above bound together by the same tightly clenched hand. A new world built upon glorious war as much as legal codes and paved roads that all lead to the same place- her.
How she came to unite Hell is warped in mysticism as much as propaganda and metaphor. All manner of embellished stories exist that detail her rise from pettiness to empire, likely all of them false, only the most accomplished and academic of novelists sincerely knowing how she came to the world. For those who would form the bulkwark of the resistance against her, it mattered very little how she came to be in comparison to how they could strive to unmake her. To send her back to her home.
They couldn't.
Not for lack of effort. The charge of plated cavalry was devastating when put forward effectively, and the men-at-arms of the noble families of the world fought valiantly for their home and lieges, lifetimes of war and training and natural talent put to the test in the most grueling months of war in written history. It simply wasn't enough. Nothing could ever be enough, for as much earnesty and faith as they put in their blade-arms, the roaring of artillery and the lethal, drilled points of halberds and pikes was simply too much. Each defeat spread the trauma, the idea, blasphemous as it was, that this was to be their new world. Each raised levy and coalition of holy forces was swatted away, left in the mud as the war host moved on, inspiring a new flock of mortal volunteers with the promises of liberation, of the end of the slavery of the masses and the right to work one's own land. The means to resist was shrinking, and her invasion only grew, until, finally, when the clouds did clear, few knew why. Criers and riders carried word that Ilya was gone, banished from their world, and though it made little sense, and the causes for her exile ran rampant; all that mattered was that amongst those that remained, they were given a reprieve. A chance for breath.
Ilya the Tyrant was gone. Her lieutenants, generals, and warmasters were not.
A story of military strategy, the intricacies of governance and policy, statecraft, with Ilya's return to the world being the centerpiece of the story. Her removal from the world is one shrouded in mystery to be filled in as we see fit, and her attempt to retake the reins of her empire, to bind it back together after a catastrophic breakdown in leadership sees it shattered, forcing her into an underdog's tale of having to combat her former subjects and vassals as well as compete with the realms of the world who know that if she is to return to power, then it would spell doom for their chances of independence. I welcome interested individuals to contact me with quality introductions, preferably with Discord accounts for out-of-character conversations, and to share what they found themselves drawn to the prompt.