CaptainBritton

Terra [Cyberpunk Dystopia RP]

Consider me interested. I'll hopefully have a CS up by tomorrow or Sunday, but I may get it done tonight if time permits.

Black Sun - Age of Wolves (Always Open)

Sergius Aetius

Tarvisium, Regio Militum VIII

_{Approx. 9:00 AM}

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The city was alive.

Figuratively, of course, but no less was every street bustling. This was Tarvisium, situated upon the River Flosis, which was a crucial waterway linking the other major rivers of the North into one massive interconnected trade route. It was thus flooded with merchants, with missionaries, and with artisans, all capitalizing upon the only recently-conquered North.

The harbor was especially busy, crowded with ships of all shapes and sizes, from the smallest cargo barges and hand-paddled craft to mighty ships that were built to fare seas, which had come upriver all the way from the ocean to sell their stock. In markets the missionaries perched themselves upon anything they could, practically yelling their message, broadcasting the righteous sentence of Izalith.

And one man enjoyed it all, atop the Imperial palace balconies and terraces. Sergius stood, hands interlocked behind his back, eyes wandering. He was clad in his Governor's dress, a toga praetexta of solid and pure white, with an ornate purple sash diagonally down its midsection. It was a sign of authority, of rights, of power, and Sergius wore it openly, though with his own reservations.

He began to sip from a calix, gold in color. It was topped to the brim with the finest Imperial wine, made of the best grapes of the most prestigious vineyards in the Heartlands, created as a drink for only the highest rungs of society. And Sergius drank it as such, the sweet yet bitter blood-red drink soothing his mouth as he drank. He stared off into the hills and valleys in each direction, until he heard the handle of the door behind him rustle.

From it burst forth a man of similar stature to his own, clad in the leisure clothing of the Legion, a knee-length crimson tunic belted by a golden-colored length of rope. He had a pugio in sheathe strapped to the belt, and a cowhide scroll holder on the opposing hip, of which he reached for vigorously as he panted quietly, attempting to utter words in short breaths.

"Sir.." He panted, coughed. "A-" He coughed again, taking in a deeper breath. "A message.. It's from the headquarters.. It- It shipped in earlier this morning." He finally popped the cap from the holder, drawing a formal scroll, one of Imperial origin, with no doubts. Sergius took it, unravelling the fine parchment.

Sergius mumbled its contents lowly to himself in his gravelly, monotone voice of which he used when talking to himself. His pupils dilated slightly as he slowly nodded. He furled the scroll, tucking it back into its holder. "Courier." He cleared his throat, speaking normally. "Inform my staff to meet with me within the hour. Tell my Praetorians to gather their gear and muster themselves. The Legion rides at dawn tomorrow."

The courier nodded and stumbled away, back through the door. Sergius sauntered into the door as well, biding his time as he made way to meet with his headquarters.

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Sergius Aetius

Fevos Ford, Regio Militum VIII

_{Midday, the following day}

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He patted his bay mare lightly as he spurred her along. He crested the hill and paused, followed by his staff. The Equites were forward, as were his mounted Praetorians, probing for any rebel ambushes. Could never be too sure, he thought. Though, most of the resistance was much further north, and even if a lone band did attack, with a Legion facing them, they would certainly surrender or die.

"Keep them moving." He instructed the Pilus Primus as his staff rode by. The ford had been flooded slightly. Good tidings for merchants moving upriver, however it was less than optimal for marching across. The men's caligae became stuck in the muddied mound of earth which usually served as the only river crossing for miles.

It was damper on the plans made the previous day. They were to cross within the morning and be much further. He should've known it wouldn't turn in his favor completely. But, it was a day's delay at most, and the better half of the Legion had already made it across, with the rearmost Cohorts of Legionaries and Auxilia crossing as he observed.

He was still hopeful. The plan was to be across the Empire as quickly as possible on a forced march. The Legion would arrive in time to gain much-needed rest while Sergius attended the Council. And then there would be a plan, and they would march against the Empire's foes, he mused.

He became lost in his own thoughts, awaiting the crossing to end.

The American Spring: An Alternate Present RP

I'm interested.

The Weirdest World War

Apologies, I posted the old version by accident. Do tell me if there's anything else that needs changing.

The Weirdest World War

I'm interested.

Black Sun - Age of Wolves (Always Open)

Sergius

Sergius Aetius

_{Sergius Victor, Dux Impera Aetius, Magister Militum Aetius, Exarch Aetius}

Appearance

Sergius is a man of average appearance. He stands at a fair 5’10”, weighing in at 166 lbs. His hair is jet black, well kept and short. He sports a thick patch of stubble of the same color. His eyes are darkened brown. His complexion is tan from years subject to the sun, and his skin is marked with scars of battle at many ends. A jagged slash on the right shoulder from a Northern warrior’s blade, the gruesome remains of a dagger into the left thigh.

Personality & Drive

Sergius is a man of servitude. Born within the Empire, he became a leader of men. His campaigns in the North have made him cunning yet cautious. Despite the victories which brought glory, the defeats were ever so bitter, transforming him into one of caution and of cynicism. His current drive, despite all he has lost in the campaigns in the North, is eternal servitude to the Empire.

History

Sergius was born in the Empire, into its very west, where the forests and the rolling plains clashed. He was born into a family of a good wealth and a fiery loyalty to the Empire. He was instilled with the passion of honor, loyalty, and service. Never once did he have a debt that he did not pay off, and never once did he betray or cross his own blood.

He entered his teenage years longing for the fray. He was obliged, and over those years became a leader of men. He gained the traits of the tactician, the strategist, and the logistician, and as well became an impeccable physical specimen of true skill with the blade, polearm, pilum, and bow. He was granted his own complement of troops, mainly loyalist levies led by small detachments of professional footsoldiers, and just in time for the conquest of the North.

He led his troops in many a battle. Victories and losses marked the band’s record, and with each, Sergius’ scale of command grew, as did his zeal and cunning. This marked up until a battle of which his entire force was routed and his own mounted guard decimated in the effort to cover the retreat. It was here that he sustained most of his injuries, and made a full recovery and returned to service against all odds.

He learned a lesson. He became cautious, cynical, calculating. His sense of servitude grew despite this, and continued his service well into his third decade of life.

Rivalries & Friendships

WIP

Loyalty

Archon of War

Armaments

The Blade of Atoning Loyalty

The mounted blade of Sergius is one of particular importance. It is a spatha, a blade constructed to be used while mounted for slashing and thrusting. It is forged of iron, and was acquired in the Northern campaigns from a smith, and was enchanted by his own Archon with the physical inability to break, symbolizing the unbreakable loyalty of Sergius to the Empire.

The Blade of Infamous Justice

Sergius blade of choice when dismounted is that of a gladius, as well forged from iron. It was gifted to him at the first of his campaigns by his own Archon. It possesses the supernatural ability to strike terror into the hearts of men, symbolizing the undying might of the Empire.

Pugio

Sergius’ secondary blade when upon the ground. It’s a dagger. No, really. No enchantment or anything, it’s just a fancy dagger.

Dux’s Armor

It’s a simple set of armor worn by a senior officer. Consists of iron and bronze plating, protecting from most direct slashes.

The Empire's Honor

A bulky shield of wood, bronze, and iron, made to counter and redirect bladed strikes, the scutum is extremely effective at its role. This specimen even moreseo, being blessed with the ability to counter the extreme heat and extreme cold variations of magicka.

Abilities

He is no magician, nor is he a mage in any right. His skill as a warrior is unrivaled, and he is said to possess a supernatural power, an air of command which sends the morale of his men soaring and making his authority and orders of utmost priority among his men.

Sergius’ Holding

Regio Militum VIII

_{Military District VIII}

Type

The eighth military district is an absolute military governorship under Sergius Aetius, working under orders from the Empire to assimilate and recruit the conquered Northmen.

Culture

While the peoples of the North are generally let alone with their domestic practices, they have been constantly exposed to Imperial culture with the influx of migrants from the inner Empire looking for new lands to settle. In tandem, construction efforts were put forth by Sergius, and carried out by his own men and a crew of slaves, which brought Imperial architecture to the conquered populace. The Imperialisation process is in full swing within the North, with the old ways of the subjugated gradually fading away.

Description

Villages within the district would often look similar to above in architectural style, based upon Imperial architecture but built with locally available materials, creating a blend of both the Imperial and Northern architecture.

As for layout, villages dotted across the district vary greatly in scale and shape, making a description of uniform layout impossible. The same cannot be said for cities, however, which are constructed in neat ‘block’ systems that account for a specified length between roads running four directions, that intersect every so often and connect to an outer square or rectangle of paths connected to each and every one of these roads. This makes navigation of the city extremely easy, and makes it extremely defensible from the city square/forum. To add to the defensibility of the cities, often barricades are constructed around it, whether it be a wooden palisade, clay construct, or complete stone wall.

The main exports of the district include animal hide, salted meat, freshwater fish, and grains, attributed to its lush forests, two bordering rivers, and fertile soil, respectively. Public order is kept in check easily by martial presence and the coexistence of the Northern peoples and the Imperials.

Laws

The tenants and laws of the district do not differ from that of the Empire in any fashion, save for the enforcement of said laws. Instead of punishments being carried out by town watches, they are performed by the local martial presence. As a result, the sentences are often harsher and carried out summarily. Despite its short-term effect on public order, this method has significantly staunched the crime rate.

Military

The military of the district is that of Sergius. Sergius is the commander of all forces within the district, and thus has set out a prevailing system of military he had found effective after the subsequent decimation of his force at the Wreberst Crossing on the Aolz River.

This system is on the basis that all citizens are eligible to volunteer, be levied, and be conscripted into the armed services as a civic duty in exchange for the privileges of citizenship offered to them. Similarly, non-citizens can volunteer as auxiliaries, reserve and specialised forces, and they can also be levied and conscripted, but only in times of war with another sovereign body or with the express permission by a local leader.

Another revolutionary concept is that this system does away with the soldiers buying their own equipment. Instead, their equipment is provided through lump sum shipments bought by Sergius, and the costs are levied from their wages over the course of their service. Another perk of this is that reprocuring equipment from the fallen on the battlefield can be done easily, with the standard issue kit being able to be reissued.

Though this relies on citizen initiative and levies, it is anything but unprofessional. A standard of training has been established by Sergius, and volunteers and levies, citizens and non-citizens all receive the same basic combat training over a period of roughly 4-6 weeks. The standard equipment has also eliminated the class division within the services, equating even the poorest footsoldier to the wealthiest one in equipment and ability.

Black Sun (A Warhammer/ Game of Thrones /Crusader Kings Hybrid)

Sergius

Sergius Aetius

_{Sergius Victor, Dux Impera Aetius, Magister Militum Aetius, Exarch Aetius}

Appearance

Sergius is a man of average appearance. He stands at a fair 5’10”, weighing in at 166 lbs. His hair is jet black, well kept and short. He sports a thick patch of stubble of the same color. His eyes are darkened brown. His complexion is tan from years subject to the sun, and his skin is marked with scars of battle at many ends. A jagged slash on the right shoulder from a Northern warrior’s blade, the gruesome remains of a dagger into the left thigh.

Personality & Drive

Sergius is a man of servitude. Born within the Empire, he became a leader of men. His campaigns in the North have made him cunning yet cautious. Despite the victories which brought glory, the defeats were ever so bitter, transforming him into one of caution and of cynicism. His current drive, despite all he has lost in the campaigns in the North, is eternal servitude to the Empire.

History

Sergius was born in the Empire, into its very west, where the forests and the rolling plains clashed. He was born into a family of a good wealth and a fiery loyalty to the Empire. He was instilled with the passion of honor, loyalty, and service. Never once did he have a debt that he did not pay off, and never once did he betray or cross his own blood.

He entered his teenage years longing for the fray. He was obliged, and over those years became a leader of men. He gained the traits of the tactician, the strategist, and the logistician, and as well became an impeccable physical specimen of true skill with the blade, polearm, pilum, and bow. He was granted his own complement of troops, mainly loyalist levies led by small detachments of professional footsoldiers, and just in time for the conquest of the North.

He led his troops in many a battle. Victories and losses marked the band’s record, and with each, Sergius’ scale of command grew, as did his zeal and cunning. This marked up until a battle of which his entire force was routed and his own mounted guard decimated in the effort to cover the retreat. It was here that he sustained most of his injuries, and made a full recovery and returned to service against all odds.

He learned a lesson. He became cautious, cynical, calculating. His sense of servitude grew despite this, and continued his service well into his third decade of life.

Rivalries & Friendships

WIP

Loyalty

Archon of War

Armaments

The Blade of Atoning Loyalty

The mounted blade of Sergius is one of particular importance. It is a spatha, a blade constructed to be used while mounted for slashing and thrusting. It is forged of iron, and was acquired in the Northern campaigns from a smith, and was enchanted by his own Archon with the physical inability to break, symbolizing the unbreakable loyalty of Sergius to the Empire.

The Blade of Infamous Justice

Sergius blade of choice when dismounted is that of a gladius, as well forged from iron. It was gifted to him at the first of his campaigns by his own Archon. It possesses the supernatural ability to strike terror into the hearts of men, symbolizing the undying might of the Empire.

Pugio

Sergius’ secondary blade when upon the ground. It’s a dagger. No, really. No enchantment or anything, it’s just a fancy dagger.

Dux’s Armor

It’s a simple set of armor worn by a senior officer. Consists of iron and bronze plating, protecting from most direct slashes.

The Empire's Honor

A bulky shield of wood, bronze, and iron, made to counter and redirect bladed strikes, the scutum is extremely effective at its role. This specimen even moreseo, being blessed with the ability to counter the extreme heat and extreme cold variations of magicka.

Abilities

He is no magician, nor is he a mage in any right. His skill as a warrior is unrivaled, and he is said to possess a supernatural power, an air of command which sends the morale of his men soaring and making his authority and orders of utmost priority among his men.

Black Sun (A Warhammer/ Game of Thrones /Crusader Kings Hybrid)

I am interested, so long as, seeing as it is Iron Age, I can draw slight early Greek and Roman influences.

Steamtown: Blood and Gunpowder

_{Born Unto Trouble - Red Dead Redemption Soundtrack}

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'Jim' Mitchell

_{Just off the Jade Turnpike, four miles due north of Baker's Rest}

_{Morning, circa 9 AM}

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The wind began to blow...

It hit him coarsely across the back, sweeping his long coat. A norther, thought he. It'd only get chillier. He inclined his head, his drab blue eyes looking above, a hand upon his wide hat, and the other holding the reins of Copenhagen, with the wrist resting upon the saddle's pommel. He squinted. Bright, but not many clouds he could see. The trees at least would serve protection, but the damned floodplains chilled his feet when he dismounted, and he was sure it felt no more comfortable for his steed.

Ah, he thought, damned horse has survived this long through colder. He shifted in the saddle, adjusting his woolen blanket tied about his torso slightly before returning it to the pommel. He glanced behind himself, looking upon the cargo tied to the horse. Folded pelts strapped upon, hefty bags of salted and chilled meat. At Copenhagen's front, a neatly crafted pelt, the unmistakable stock of a Sharps protruding from it, and a black bag beside of it.

He thought, felt guilt, steered Copenhagen clear of the shallow waters, despite his wishes to avoid the turnpike. It meant nothing but trouble, the dirt road that ran south, splitting into goat trails up to Baker's Rest. However, he shifted his weight to the left stirrup, and slid himself off with a grunt, planting his feet upon the damp, uneven ground. It'd take a fair bit of time to get to Baker's Rest on foot, no less leading a horse low down with goods. But it was worth it, wouldn't wanna risk the steed collapsing out of exhaustion only three miles in the trek.

He gripped Copenhagen's leather reigns tight, tugging every so slightly forward as he maneuvered the wet ground, stepping over branches and snake burrows with care as he dotted his eyes about, especially to the turnpike only a couple dozen yards to the left. He thought he heard someone call in that moment, and gritted his teeth. Damned fools, he thought as he made full circle, looking to find nothing except the birds chirping their normal tune.

He turned, dismissed it. "Old age..", he muttered quietly as he continued forth. Just barely through the receding treeline due north, he could see the outline. Baker's Rest. He thrusted one foot into the stirrup and dragged himself aboard his trusty steed, and lightly tapped its ribs with the heel of his boots. They moved quicker yet, and the trees ended and the open floodplains began just ahead.