Alright, so the weekend has passed with no new applicants (sadly, considering the impressive amount of response to the interest check). I'll leave it up to you guys: do you want to start right away, leaving the RP open for new characters to jump in, or should I bump the interest check and try to attract some more people?
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Hoping to get a few more people from the interest check and then start this weekend. I'll go ahead and summon everyone who hasn't posted here yet but stated their interest.
@Legion-114@WilsonTurner@Ace of Hearts@Garden Gnome@Hockeystyle@Sand@Zhaliora@nosuchthing
@Legion-114@WilsonTurner@Ace of Hearts@Garden Gnome@Hockeystyle@Sand@Zhaliora@nosuchthing
A pre-planned victory celebration might be a bit much, since it wasn't completely a victory, but it's not completely out of the realm of possibility that there might be some festivities in the near future (in particular if any of the messengers return from scouting out the polis with good news). No doubt an interesting, exotic merchant and her party would be able to slip in and hail down Ioannes for a chat.
Yes please.
As far as new players go, I'd leave it up to you guys whether you want fresh blood or not.
Yes please.
Name/Sex/Age
Rhys / Female*/ 24
Interesting. Accepted. Go ahead and post it over in the characters section.
Okay, so I know that the exact year is unknown to everyone now. Have any of the realms made up their own calendar to compensate? And is the weather like that of modern new England, or is it very different thanks to nuclear warfare changing everything? (I'm assuming nukes brought about the end.)
The 365-day calendar is most likely still a thing, if by simple oral tradition more than anything else. Years are trickier, and not necessarily constant -- realms might have their dates set to display the amount of time since a king began to rule, so an event that began two years ago when the king's been reigning for five would be "In the third year of the rule of King Examplius . . ." Scholars would have the unenviable job of trying to mesh these different dates together to try to form a coherent history.
As far as weather goes, the climate is not particularly different -- a bit warmer, a bit more arid, a bit less fertile, but not drastically changed. My lips are sealed on the possibility that the apocalypse was or was not brought about by nuclear holocaust.
Still breathing.
Never before had Ioannes been so happy to see such a familiar sight.
It was a difficult choice, but he had made the decision to leave Aquilonia to the carrion crows who called themselves the Iron Legion as soon as possible. His soldiers, much the worse-for-wear, had marched out of the gates of the once-beautiful city, over piles of disfigured and burnt corpses, and reunited with the very confused siege camps outside. After a short debriefing, the entire army had begun to pack away its tents and fill in its trenches for the journey back to Acharnae.
There, Ioannes planned to take on fresh supplies and fresh levies, and to see if any of the other polis would be swayed by deed of his actions. He sent riders to every corner of what had once been Atlantis, with two goals: firstly, to spread the word of how the King of Acharnae had purged sacred Aquilonia of necromancers, demons and walking corpses; second, to see if any of the other cities of the realm had been reduced to a similar state as Aquilonia. He hoped that the infection had been contained, but some part of him knew that it had spread. Even before they arrived at the city, some of the polis had not responded to his calls for fealty, had he? Now they must, for the sake of the protection of humanity -- if any still survived.
Even more infuriating than the idea of half of the cities of Atlantis lost to demons was to think on that bastard so-called Witch King and his mongrel armies. Ioannes would gladly have sent word to his camps and storm the city once more from both outside and within, if not for the man himself and the powers he held. No, Dratha would be a trickier brigand to deal with, but there would be time once the realm healed. The man must return to his stronghold soon enough. Those barren lands and burnt homes cannot support an army without supplies by sea.
Some weeks later, Ioannes finally set his sights on Aquilonia, the city of his heart. Its triple walls stood proudly, and the farms outside remained much the same as when he had left them. He left his wife half of his horsemen to deliver her to her own city-state to raise the banners again there, and rode through the three bronze gates of the city. He had sent word ahead by the ship that had delivered supplies to Aquilonia. A ragged cheer went up from the walls at the sight of the approaching forces, and the three gates were raised high. As he rode the winding path to his keep, Ioannes explained what had happened to the garrison's commanders.
At the castle's portcullis, he was stopped by a particularly eager soldier. "Who goes there?" the man called.
"Your liege," Ioannes responded wearily. "Open the gate."
The guard stammered, the gate opened, and Ioannes shed his worn mail from aching shoulders as he climbed the serpentine stairs to his chambers. There, safe, home at last, Ioannes Arsenikos slept like a king.
It was a difficult choice, but he had made the decision to leave Aquilonia to the carrion crows who called themselves the Iron Legion as soon as possible. His soldiers, much the worse-for-wear, had marched out of the gates of the once-beautiful city, over piles of disfigured and burnt corpses, and reunited with the very confused siege camps outside. After a short debriefing, the entire army had begun to pack away its tents and fill in its trenches for the journey back to Acharnae.
There, Ioannes planned to take on fresh supplies and fresh levies, and to see if any of the other polis would be swayed by deed of his actions. He sent riders to every corner of what had once been Atlantis, with two goals: firstly, to spread the word of how the King of Acharnae had purged sacred Aquilonia of necromancers, demons and walking corpses; second, to see if any of the other cities of the realm had been reduced to a similar state as Aquilonia. He hoped that the infection had been contained, but some part of him knew that it had spread. Even before they arrived at the city, some of the polis had not responded to his calls for fealty, had he? Now they must, for the sake of the protection of humanity -- if any still survived.
Even more infuriating than the idea of half of the cities of Atlantis lost to demons was to think on that bastard so-called Witch King and his mongrel armies. Ioannes would gladly have sent word to his camps and storm the city once more from both outside and within, if not for the man himself and the powers he held. No, Dratha would be a trickier brigand to deal with, but there would be time once the realm healed. The man must return to his stronghold soon enough. Those barren lands and burnt homes cannot support an army without supplies by sea.
Some weeks later, Ioannes finally set his sights on Aquilonia, the city of his heart. Its triple walls stood proudly, and the farms outside remained much the same as when he had left them. He left his wife half of his horsemen to deliver her to her own city-state to raise the banners again there, and rode through the three bronze gates of the city. He had sent word ahead by the ship that had delivered supplies to Aquilonia. A ragged cheer went up from the walls at the sight of the approaching forces, and the three gates were raised high. As he rode the winding path to his keep, Ioannes explained what had happened to the garrison's commanders.
At the castle's portcullis, he was stopped by a particularly eager soldier. "Who goes there?" the man called.
"Your liege," Ioannes responded wearily. "Open the gate."
The guard stammered, the gate opened, and Ioannes shed his worn mail from aching shoulders as he climbed the serpentine stairs to his chambers. There, safe, home at last, Ioannes Arsenikos slept like a king.
Am I right in assuming you don't need Defender to be proficient with shields, but you do need it to be better than the average footsoldier with one?
Yes, that is correct.
Cormac Fifth-Chance / Male / 37
Very good, Accepted! I like it.
Yes, absolutely. Stop by the OOC thread and make an application.
List of Characters:
Heinz - The Rider @Eirene
Amos - The Alchemist @HangYourSecrets
Cormack - The Veteran @Shorticus
Rhys - The Searching @Pascal
Eve - The Blinded @Carantathraiel
Quick question: For clothes, should we expect tunics and such, or were designs like the collared shirt or t-shirt ever discovered/rediscovered? (billboards hieroglyphics? i dunno.)
The former, most likely. Cloth and whatnot probably wouldn't take long to degrade in the amount of time between the apocalypse and the present.
Amos Breckenridge/Male/35
Accepted. Just make sure you know that 'alchemist' doesn't necessarily mean what it does in a high-fantasy setting, where you can make all sorts of fantastical potions. It just means that you know about and can use various medicinal (and poisonous) herbs and whatnot.
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