These Dark Stars
A Feudal Space Roleplay
In this roleplay you will take control of a feudal lord either in allegiance to the Emperor, or in open rebellion against him. The galaxy is a dark and foreboding place, where science and technology mingle with sorcery and witchcraft. It's a bit over the top grim-dark, almost to the point of parody. I think it will be a lot of fun. Here is a sampling of the type of stories I wish to tell in this universe. I should note that I will be doing a fair bit of worldbuilding and providing a handful of NPCs to interact with, but beyond that I wish this roleplay to have the spirit of cooperative writing rather than strictly GM & Player. Thank you for reading.
Eclipse
The Lord of the molten planet walked the web work of titan-metal bridges spanning the volcanic ravines of his domain. A black cloak flapped at his back in the thermal winds, and he carried a long, thin, cruel blade on his hip. Orange light cast strange shadows along the walkway, and gleamed across the runes engraved on the blade.
"I am the sword of the Emperor," thought the Lord. "and a sword must seek a foe lest it rot in it's sheathe...
Close at hand strolled his steward, a native of the fiery planet. It waddled beside his master, the trait of some cruel disfigurement inflicted upon him by the last Lord of the Planet, which he carefully concealed beneath dour robes. From his pointed ears hung a breathing apparatus that covered his churlish face. A single oculus of glowing red peared out beneath its' dark cowl.
The Lord wore a breathing apparatus as well, this one adorned with gold and platinum and carved in the likeness of a lampreys' jaws. Spiny teeth embossed on the mouthpiece gave the man a demonic appearance. "Come along Greely," said the Lord through his mask. The syllables he spoke were digitized, and rolled out of speakers concealed beneath the decorative lampreys' teeth in a rattling tone.
Nearby, the rocky ground cracked and a fissure of magma erupted a hundred feet into the air. To touch it was death. The Lord paused and extended his hand towards the fiery column. Greely paused just as he was about to collide with his master, and pulled from his robes a rectangular data pad with a slick glossy green glow. His fingers tapped expertly across the runes displayed.
"Forgive me, m'Lord. The eclipse is almost upon us. It may be wise to make a public appearance before the event. You know how superstitious the peasants can be," rasped the beast.
A hundred rivers of lava cut ravines across the heavily shadowed valley and gathered in immense lakes that extended for hundreds of miles. The Lords factories straddled these lakes and stole their heat to power his forges. The bulbous structures produced titan-metal through a carefully guarded process and were powered by cheap local labor.
"Much cheaper than artificials," thought the Lord.
As Darkstar to his Holiness, Emperor Reva Xem III, it was his duty to produce, profit and to pay taxes. Heavy taxes. For this, the Lord suffered the superstitions of his peasant workers. As long as he gave them leeway to perform whatever primitive rituals they required for peace of mind, the better they would perform in his factories.
"An eclipse you say Greely?" said the Lord through his breathing apparatus. He pulled the face mask free and breathed deeply the searing hot air of his dominion. White-hot tendrils of pain shrieked down his lungs. He coughed, and put the mask back on as tears gathered at his eyes.
"...four-hundred and seventy five years since the last triple eclipse, m'lord. I could record a simple broadcast if you wish to address your subjects. It may help to assuage any superstitions your subjects may hold about the eclipse. Prophets of doom and all that..." Greely bowed his head deeply as he spoke, not wishing to offend his prickly master.
The Lord raised a black gloved hand and the servant fell silent. Iron studs adorned the knuckles, and the servant knew at least two vibro-blades were concealed within-one for each hand. Maybe even an atomic-dart...
"Let them have their superstitions, Greely. I rather enjoy it. I wonder if they'll work up such a fervor as to initiate a panic-induced pogrom." said the Lord chuckling. His laughter chirped digitally through his breathing harness.
Greely cringed. "I certainly hope not, m'Lord. Production of titan-metal was down 35% last quarter and our workforce is still recovering from the last riots."
Greely bowed his head so low he nearly scraped the metallic gangway. Softly he spoke, "An envoy from the Emperor is due to arrive at the morning meal m'Lord. Our spies tell us the delegation has been sent to inquire about the delayed shipments of titan-metal..."
"Yori mu kravni il Xor."
"I am the sword of the Emperor," thought the Lord. "and a sword must seek a foe lest it rot in it's sheathe...
Close at hand strolled his steward, a native of the fiery planet. It waddled beside his master, the trait of some cruel disfigurement inflicted upon him by the last Lord of the Planet, which he carefully concealed beneath dour robes. From his pointed ears hung a breathing apparatus that covered his churlish face. A single oculus of glowing red peared out beneath its' dark cowl.
The Lord wore a breathing apparatus as well, this one adorned with gold and platinum and carved in the likeness of a lampreys' jaws. Spiny teeth embossed on the mouthpiece gave the man a demonic appearance. "Come along Greely," said the Lord through his mask. The syllables he spoke were digitized, and rolled out of speakers concealed beneath the decorative lampreys' teeth in a rattling tone.
Nearby, the rocky ground cracked and a fissure of magma erupted a hundred feet into the air. To touch it was death. The Lord paused and extended his hand towards the fiery column. Greely paused just as he was about to collide with his master, and pulled from his robes a rectangular data pad with a slick glossy green glow. His fingers tapped expertly across the runes displayed.
"Forgive me, m'Lord. The eclipse is almost upon us. It may be wise to make a public appearance before the event. You know how superstitious the peasants can be," rasped the beast.
A hundred rivers of lava cut ravines across the heavily shadowed valley and gathered in immense lakes that extended for hundreds of miles. The Lords factories straddled these lakes and stole their heat to power his forges. The bulbous structures produced titan-metal through a carefully guarded process and were powered by cheap local labor.
"Much cheaper than artificials," thought the Lord.
As Darkstar to his Holiness, Emperor Reva Xem III, it was his duty to produce, profit and to pay taxes. Heavy taxes. For this, the Lord suffered the superstitions of his peasant workers. As long as he gave them leeway to perform whatever primitive rituals they required for peace of mind, the better they would perform in his factories.
"An eclipse you say Greely?" said the Lord through his breathing apparatus. He pulled the face mask free and breathed deeply the searing hot air of his dominion. White-hot tendrils of pain shrieked down his lungs. He coughed, and put the mask back on as tears gathered at his eyes.
"...four-hundred and seventy five years since the last triple eclipse, m'lord. I could record a simple broadcast if you wish to address your subjects. It may help to assuage any superstitions your subjects may hold about the eclipse. Prophets of doom and all that..." Greely bowed his head deeply as he spoke, not wishing to offend his prickly master.
The Lord raised a black gloved hand and the servant fell silent. Iron studs adorned the knuckles, and the servant knew at least two vibro-blades were concealed within-one for each hand. Maybe even an atomic-dart...
"Let them have their superstitions, Greely. I rather enjoy it. I wonder if they'll work up such a fervor as to initiate a panic-induced pogrom." said the Lord chuckling. His laughter chirped digitally through his breathing harness.
Greely cringed. "I certainly hope not, m'Lord. Production of titan-metal was down 35% last quarter and our workforce is still recovering from the last riots."
Greely bowed his head so low he nearly scraped the metallic gangway. Softly he spoke, "An envoy from the Emperor is due to arrive at the morning meal m'Lord. Our spies tell us the delegation has been sent to inquire about the delayed shipments of titan-metal..."
