barkmeat2

Civilization - New Lands, New Glory

Nation Name: Citrus Crest
Represented Color: This One
Race: Human
Type of Government: Representative Council
Capital: Banana Fort
Ruler: Small Coucil
Religion: Earth Mother, Gaia

Geographical Location: See Map

History:

My Hider

The people of Citrus Crest are humble farmers, tilling and tending a fertile piece of land under the watch of the locally named "Citrus Mountain" seen in the near distance. Their ancestors arrived sometime along the southern delta past the lonely island off the coast. The 7 original families were opportunistic immigrants looking for greener pastures and had entered a mutual pact of protection with each other.

Through their initial founding of but 7 original families(The Limes, The Wheats, The Oranges, The Peaches, The Rye, The Bakers, The Millers) years of trial and error, boons and disasters they have an adequate understanding on local flood patterns, seasonal rains, and planting seasons for a fair bit of plants. That said, domestication of local beasts is seldom, encompassing a singular breed of proto-dogs descended from the the hounds of old.

They are lead by a local council, a rudimentary democracy which is ran by 7 elected members.

The agrarian life-style affords large families and larger harvest festivals, the peaceful Citrus Crescent Peoples are jovial and friendly, which comes with its own perils. Weapons and armor are primitive and a small token law keeping militia is the extent of their military might.

The Citrus Crescent People sport a tasty and innocent peach on their heraldry.

Interestingly enough these people took a rather comical settlement name believing that irony will spare them the wrath of nature and thusly named their settlement:

Banana Fort, a town where it's namesake fruit is hard pressed to grow and whose only defensive emplacement is... Nothing actually, just dirt and huts.

A Wolf's Love

It's nice having new players!

Civilization - New Lands, New Glory

C) Improve infrastructure
I)Diplomagics

Pen is Mightier than the Hoe

The ogres seemed nice enough, they even commented on how well their gifts tasted. But they said something about elves? Must be some type of spice they reckoned. For now the envoy would discuss terms of trade. "Great ogres, as we said earlier we would very much like some sort of beneficial agreement. Your mighty homes stand under the great mountains surely you have an abundance of rocks and other strong materials. While my people have an abundance of food we are starved of building materials. Maybe we can exchange our resources; we give you more of the treats you like and more! We are one of the most skilled farmers in the land. In exchange we receive some of your rocks, or at the very least have access and assistance in its mining?" The envoy leader looked up, hoping that the leader would find the terms acceptable.

---

The small council had been well under way. Rye had been thankfully quiet throughout having finally plugged the leaks in his home. The meeting was almost concluded when Syndra spoke up. "My friends as you know I am in charge of teaching the children in the way of the Earth Mother, but i am only 1 person and their is so much knowledge. Can I ask that you ask some of the elders and mentors of your respected clans to help with this task. We may also construct a nice a dedicated building near the temple for these sessions. In the future these children my have an expert knowledge in planting seasons, seed rotations and the like. We can use this a foundation for our bright futures."

Summary

Schools and shiieeeet to teach religion and agricultural tech. The orcs are given a trade offer.

The Gate -Obersturmbannführer Felix Herzog/TheWildHost-

The Surgeon was still fuming on your obvious dismissal of his concerns. Bah, whatever, the Reich is strong, you don't expect much casualties in the next month anyways. The villagers and the wounded are sent to camp while you elect to keep scouting, while a man down nothing interesting happened for the remainder of the day other than mapping out the local area. You return with the commandoes by nightfall to get some rest. The defensive fortifications have made the most progress, gun emplacements and palasades already up, with the metal towers nearing completion. The high walls surrounding the storage building has been foregone in favor for the actual storage building'a progress. Overall progress on the buildings are going well, the foundations and walls are set. The wiring for the generators have been set in place providing adequate utility around the temporary shelters. Speaking of which the men will be bedding down in the tents for tonight, but the work, has not allowed them to cook hot meals. They tear into their rations instead.

You approach Kaiser, asking him about him about his commando training, and if there's anything he could show you. Namely in the art of sneaking. He laughs, and when your serious gaze catches him he stops. "Oh, you were serious? Uh- well sorry sir, but I don't think I can do anything for you. My men have been trained for years and I suspect you'd get bored quickly. Not to mention that it would not match your style at all. In fact, I was surprise you wanted to come along for the scouting party in the first place. You're a capable soldier and a wonderful leader, and that is exactly why you should leave this sneaking about to us. Plus it would look silly to the men that me, a Lt. was drilling a giant of man in the subtle art of sneak.

After Kaiser finishes, you check in with the scientists and by extension he villagers. The research tent is up, equipment is set up in the open and the villagers were given their own corner near the infirmary. They're scared as it was expected they recognize nobody and being stuck in such a bizarre and exotic setting unnerves them. Dr. Frida Fritz, the head linguist walks up to you with a tired smile.

"Welcome back sir, the guests are well, but there have been a few incidents. They didn't seem to kindly take our proddings and questions and one of the men got into a fist fight with Dr. Schwartz before the guards pulled them away. They refuse to talk to anyone, they seem to not recognize us as the saviors, and have been very uncooperative. The children are afraid, and we had the curtain an area off in case anymore shouting starts." Frida finishes off, her eyes are are heavy but from here you can tell she is, for her young age, a very impressive woman, both mentally and... physically. God must have taken pity on you and your men and sent an Angel. While bookish, and sporting wide rimmed glasses, you can tell that even under the lab coat she is well endowed with very well kept long blonde hair.

What do?
>villagers Inda base are upset
>buildings going well.
>talk to villagers
>time skip? (Specify what you want to get done: scouting, buildings, etc. and for how long you want to time skip.)

No man's land

And here Manny thought everything was coming up his way, but some idiot just had to go and start a fight. Do you know how hard it is to get angry, drunk, or trigger happy men into a gambling mood? Pretty damn hard. At the very least the whole mess was resolved before anybody important got hurt. Namely him. He sighed, the bar was a mess and his victims- I mean- playmates had all but deserted the gambling table, chattering and hollering instead. He'd have to try something again tomorr-

"There a Mr. Polly present?" A well, at least relatively well, dressed man inquired over the din of the excitement.

"Hmmm? That would be me sir. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, now may I ask who I have the honor of speaking to." The man looked civilized enough: combed, bathed, a functioning set of teeth, a understandable accent, pretty much nothing Manny expected from the town.

Which is precisely why he didn't quite trust him, why exactly was he here and why did he know he'd be here.

"I don't suppose you know my father do you? Or are you a... unsatisfied customer?" If the latter Manny might be in a bit of a bind judging from the manner this man handled that repeater of his.

A Wolf's Love

Ribald

Well, well. What's all dis' gubbins den. Woops, wrong accent. Anywho, Ribald might be a little up shit-creek without a paddle, considering two abnormally large wolves were squaring off in front of him. Honestly, his chances weren't good, he was sure the bigger one, now deemed Biggun', had seen him, but had chosen not to act upon it. The white one, now deemed NotasBiggun', was fortunately preoccupied with this Mexican standoff. None of them was content in making the first move which did Ribald no favors. He could just play the part of innocent bystander, the dumb mundane human act. Something along the lines of, Oh, golly goodness, oh lowdy doncha hurt me, ya devils. Ah just wanted a meal for tonight with Fido the German Shepard o'er here, please don' hurt us. Wow that sounded more racist that it should have, its not even the local accent!

Or he could wait for a fight he wasn't really sure would happen, and take out the weakened victor, and get two prizes. The only probably with that fight is Biggun' catching on to the plan and getting 'NotasBiggun' to gang up on him.

And then there was option 3: Liberal application of experimental chemicals that may or may not cause severe unintended side effects...

He like 3, but he'd need to be really subtle-like to pull that off and honestly that wasn't his strong suit. To make it worst Biggun' occasionally shot a glare at his direction and would probably tip him off to NotasBiggun' soon. He needed to act quick, and he did what any rational man would do, wait it out, adn hope for the best.

Willard

Willard trudged along the sidewalk, just trying to clear his head. Recently finding about an unknown population of Werewolves kinda drives an old man's heart rate up and the whole deal with Claudia just wore him down. Even now, he sorta regrets getting up in her business, but that kid was suffering, always tired or stressed never really smiled a genuine smile. She was holding on to a heavy burden that shouldn't have been placed on her in the first place.

Willard's wandering took him to a local square. A peaceful fountain, in the middle of town. He'd come by here occasionally to feed the birds, or chat up with the other relics of the past (hah!) He noticed a lady resting on the bench he usually sat on, and being a man of tradition and habit opted to just take the seat beside her rather than taking another bench.

"Morning, sorry for the intrusion." He smiled and took to his seat.

@ViolentViolet@Arista

Civilization - New Lands, New Glory

Resources: Food, lumber.

@Chenzor

Is this correct? I wanted to go for clay or mud brick houses, but if you say wood, let your will be manifest.

No man's land

Operation Exploit the Natives is a go!

Just an idea, but Barkmeat, what if my character was working for you? Being a slimy businessman with a lot of enemies, it's possible you could have a Pinkerton bodyguard.

@AdvancedJ3lly

IM A-OKAY WITH THAT. Just chalk up my IC as Manny completely forgetting you existed, as per character.

No man's land

Thick black bussiness suit? Check. Well groomed hair? Check. Greased? Definitely. Contempt for the natives and locals? Do you even need to ask at this point? A Social Savant of the East, one, Mr. Polly stepped off the carriage and took a deep sniff of the dry air. Yup, definitely the smell of hill billy hicks waiting to be exploited.

"Uh- sir the fare?" The old carriage driver quietly inquired.

"Hmm? Oh yes. But no. No money for you. Now before you cry foul, I will state my grievances against you." He cleared his throat, "We arrived precisely an hour later than expected, of which you verbally previously stated we would 'Arrive on time or your ride's on me'.

"But you insisted on stopping at a broth-"

"Item two, you have deposited a well known and influential son of a Senator on a sandy embankment, and now said son's shoes are filthy. Finally, you smell. GOOD DAY SIR." Manny quickly entered a nearby saloon before the old man can protest.

It was filthy, drunken rabble and the sorts littered this establishment. He resolved to buy this place out just to burn it down. For now, he was intent to start small, get a lay of the land; to poke at the soft, rotten, easily bent minds of the locals.

"BARKEEP My good man, a shot of your finest brandy, and please don't try to water this down as you did that good man's whiskey," nodding towards the man with a some sort of poster in hand. Manny slyly slouched on the stool using the counter as a back and arm rest, surveying the bar.

Ah, there it was, drunkards gambling. And with cards too! At least this place has some sense of propriety. He took the drink placed behind him, leaving what he assumed to be the asking price for this backwater town. He took the shot, decent enough for where it came from, and sat at the gambling table.

"Gentlemen, may I partake in these festivities?" More a statement than a question, but they nodded their approval. "So whats the game men?" Poker, simple poker. Easy. Blinds were laughably small, and antes even more so, but this was like taking candy from mentally handicapped man-children.

Now, Manny wasn't one to cheat, it never crossed his mind to, but did he sure know how to bluff- and card count, that helped too. He never lost a game yet, firmly believing that such games were 99% social and 1% luck, and boy was he social. He cleaned house, he patted himself on the back, easy as pie. Might as well have just given me their pa-

"CHEAT!"

Excuse me? Did he hear that right?

"Sir, we all played fair here, and I simply was luckier than you fine gentlemen. You can even check me, not a single errant card or devious contraptions." That shut him up- now to go for the killing blow.

"If anything sir you insult me and the fine men that you played with. Now that's the real sin." His former enemies turned against the man...

Manny smiled.

No man's land

THE ONE AND ONLY

Snake Oil Salesmantype character? Eh? Eh?

Name: Manny O. Polly
Age: 35
Occupation: Salesman Extraordinaire
Species: Human
Appearance:



Personality:
This man is the slimiest scum you will ever have the displeasure to meet, but you'll never know it. He is devilishly charismatic with a silver tongue to match. That said he is a man of some honor, he'll get the job done under a contract (of which is usually ridden with loopholes and results are seedier than a wheat field after a tornado.)

Histroy: A man from the cities back East(or lore equivalent). He was raised as the son of a senator, and the underhanded ways of high society molded him into a smooth talker and greed made him into a businessman. That said high society came with its own past times of which he spent much of his spare time carousing in fight clubs learning the gentleman art of pugilism.
With degree in Business administration from a high profile university he came to the frontier to exploit the simple hard working folk.

Weapons:
-The Finest Vulcan Pistol money can buy
-Gold Plated Brass knuckles

Skills:
-Silver Tongue: Born into high society teaches you that a quick wit and a sharp tongue will get you most everything.
-Business Admin: Price speculation, wage management, and most importantly trade bluffs.
-Pugilism: Far from a master and naive to life or death struggles, but he can hold his own.
-Connections: A skill that might have little value in the frontier, but the ability to drop names and threats might prove valuable.

Weaknesses:
-Poor shot: Never had a reason to kill a man...personally.
-Cushy upbringing: The harshness of the frontier wilderness is largely unknown to him.
-Political Enemies: Some very powerful and influential people want him dead.