My sheet should be ready by tomorrow
Drunken Conquistador Member
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- Drunken Conquistador 10 yrs ago
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Bio
NRP, Star Wars, Dragon Age and Warhammer (Fantasy and 40k) enthusiast. Feel free to PM me about any related RPs
Most Recent Posts
In
[IC/OOC] God and Country - A low-fantasy renaissance NRP of religion and discovery
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8 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
In
[IC/OOC] God and Country - A low-fantasy renaissance NRP of religion and discovery
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Alright, here's a tentative claim:
Kingdom of Beredia, completely free of Timluk control for 64 years and counting.
Kingdom of Beredia, completely free of Timluk control for 64 years and counting.
In
[IC/OOC] God and Country - A low-fantasy renaissance NRP of religion and discovery
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Where exactly in the map is the border between the Fiorentinans and the eastern pseudo-Muslims? I had this idea for a nation somewhat based on the post-Reconquista Iberia
In
[IC/OOC] God and Country - A low-fantasy renaissance NRP of religion and discovery
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
I am interested in joining. Let me work out a nation concept
EDIT: Is the map in the OP the most accurate?
EDIT: Is the map in the OP the most accurate?
Imperial Transport – Fiery Purger.
Colonel Howlard grumbled as he watched the companies of the 64th loading up the landing craft. Thousands of guardsmen and hundreds of vehicles filling up the large holds of the ships. Absent of course, the Basilisks and Griffons because the Administratum couldn't pass the opportunity to remind everyone just how much of an asshole the whole organization was. But stewing in his own anger would do nothing now. That was for later, after this battle was won, preferably with a bottle of amasec and Major Farzbard to hear him rant off through the night.
Now however, it was time for the meatgrinder. The regiment had never faced such bad odds, and internally Howlard was half excited and half scared to see just how well his efforts in training his troops would bear fruit. If he were to be honest with himself however, the Colonel feared that this battle might just irreversibly maul his regiment. His best companies were being deployed into a killing zone, and if the rest of the Imperial forces refused to pull their weight then the 64th was done for. Or at least until someone decided to send more prisoners his way. Though he wasn't going to count on it happening anytime soon.
The Colonel's musings were interrupted by a junior officer (one of the noble sorts who had bought her title, if he recalled correctly). She saluted crisply and reported:
“First, second and third companies have finished loading up, sir. Pre-battle drug and alcohol rations are being distributed to the troops. And the post-battle doses are already prepared and under guard by the usual detail.”
“Very well, return to the transport, Lieutenant Boroca. I will be there shortly.” Howlard replied. The Lieutenant saluted again and left quickly.
Colonel Howlard was about to follow her when his nostrils were assaulted by the unmistakably strong and pungent smell of Torcharian's bootleg perfume. Howlard turned, face twisted in disgust, to see the Commissar casually approaching him, flask in hand.
“Colonel!” Torcharian smiled, offering the flask. “How about a sip of fortificante before we throw ourselves into the kill zone?”
“Speak for yourself, Commissar.” Howlard replied, accepting the flask and taking a sip. “I am very comfortable directing the battle from a safe distance.”
“Careful now, Colonel.” Torcharian smirked at him. “I wouldn't want to execute you for cowardice and unbecoming conduct.”
Howlard snorted, handing the flask back: “Says the Commissar that goes to battle drunk and snorts with the troops.”
“It's called bonding, Antunes.” The Commissar smiled. “You should try it someday. Maybe then you will have more people to listen you whining every night.”
“Well, do be careful out there Commissar.” Howlard said as the Commissar took another swing off the flask. “I would hate the idea of having someone actually competent replacing you.”
“You always says the sweetest things, Antunes.” The Commissar chuckled. “But don't you worry, the worst that can happen is that I will have to redo the painting on the Brawny Fisherman after we are through with these rebels.”
“You mean your men will do it. While you drink and sit back. As always.” The Colonel replied.
“I'm just taking the teachings of the late Commissar Bolange to heart.” The Commissar smiled again. “But enough of this. We're running late and there will be too many Commissars there. Better not give them any excuses.”
Colonel Howlard grumbled as he watched the companies of the 64th loading up the landing craft. Thousands of guardsmen and hundreds of vehicles filling up the large holds of the ships. Absent of course, the Basilisks and Griffons because the Administratum couldn't pass the opportunity to remind everyone just how much of an asshole the whole organization was. But stewing in his own anger would do nothing now. That was for later, after this battle was won, preferably with a bottle of amasec and Major Farzbard to hear him rant off through the night.
Now however, it was time for the meatgrinder. The regiment had never faced such bad odds, and internally Howlard was half excited and half scared to see just how well his efforts in training his troops would bear fruit. If he were to be honest with himself however, the Colonel feared that this battle might just irreversibly maul his regiment. His best companies were being deployed into a killing zone, and if the rest of the Imperial forces refused to pull their weight then the 64th was done for. Or at least until someone decided to send more prisoners his way. Though he wasn't going to count on it happening anytime soon.
The Colonel's musings were interrupted by a junior officer (one of the noble sorts who had bought her title, if he recalled correctly). She saluted crisply and reported:
“First, second and third companies have finished loading up, sir. Pre-battle drug and alcohol rations are being distributed to the troops. And the post-battle doses are already prepared and under guard by the usual detail.”
“Very well, return to the transport, Lieutenant Boroca. I will be there shortly.” Howlard replied. The Lieutenant saluted again and left quickly.
Colonel Howlard was about to follow her when his nostrils were assaulted by the unmistakably strong and pungent smell of Torcharian's bootleg perfume. Howlard turned, face twisted in disgust, to see the Commissar casually approaching him, flask in hand.
“Colonel!” Torcharian smiled, offering the flask. “How about a sip of fortificante before we throw ourselves into the kill zone?”
“Speak for yourself, Commissar.” Howlard replied, accepting the flask and taking a sip. “I am very comfortable directing the battle from a safe distance.”
“Careful now, Colonel.” Torcharian smirked at him. “I wouldn't want to execute you for cowardice and unbecoming conduct.”
Howlard snorted, handing the flask back: “Says the Commissar that goes to battle drunk and snorts with the troops.”
“It's called bonding, Antunes.” The Commissar smiled. “You should try it someday. Maybe then you will have more people to listen you whining every night.”
“Well, do be careful out there Commissar.” Howlard said as the Commissar took another swing off the flask. “I would hate the idea of having someone actually competent replacing you.”
“You always says the sweetest things, Antunes.” The Commissar chuckled. “But don't you worry, the worst that can happen is that I will have to redo the painting on the Brawny Fisherman after we are through with these rebels.”
“You mean your men will do it. While you drink and sit back. As always.” The Colonel replied.
“I'm just taking the teachings of the late Commissar Bolange to heart.” The Commissar smiled again. “But enough of this. We're running late and there will be too many Commissars there. Better not give them any excuses.”
Imperial Transport – Fiery Purger.
Col. Antunes Howlard. 64th Tiparingan Penal Legion
Col. Howlard finished wiping his face, sparing one last glance towards the mirror before striding out of the makeshift bathrooms mounted in the belly of the colossal transport ship. An officer of his rank should at least had received personal quarters, he was a Colonel for the Emperor's sake! But Howlard was already used to it, the slights, the snubbing, jealousy and spite of others. But it was useless to rage over it now, he had a meeting to attend. And he wouldn't give his so called “betters” the satisfaction of watching him rant and rave like a spoiled child. He knew how they whispered among themselves, laughing at him behind his back, at him and his regiment. But he would show them, maybe not today or tomorrow. But the time would come, no matter how long it took, he would show them.
The guardsmen on the entrance snapped crisp salutes when the Colonel finally emerged from the makeshift tents. Howlard nodded slightly at them, glad to see that this particular lot had taken at least part of their training to heart, before making his way towards the large elevators.
After a short walk through the rows of tents, which for the most part were up to his standards, he finally met the rest of his party for the imminent debriefing. Major Farzbard, as usual shadowed by that hideous creature of hers, and Commissar Torcharian, who at least had the decency of showing up sober this time.
The Major gave a quick salute, and her second did the same. While grinning at him with those disgusting sharpened metal teeth, couldn't she at least brush her mouth once in a while? And take a bath too while she was at it? He nodded back to the Major and the Commissar. As Farzbard's pet Sergeant took the hit and left without further ado.
“Shouldn't we bring more people with us?” The Commissar asked. Howlard noticed with some relief that his breath was actually clean. “At least the Captains. To save time later.” He finished, fidgeting with his coat.
“I doubt they would let us all in.” Farzbard snorted as she leaned over the control panel to call the elevator. “We might steal something.” She chuckled.
“Besides.” Howlard added, almost gritting his teeth. “We already know what will happen; they will put us in the vanguard and have us bleed the enemy white.”
“We are a Penal Legion, Colonel.” The Commissar replied. “That's what we are supposed to do.”
“But unlike the rest, we actually got a chance of seeing this through.” Farzbard added, still bent over the control panel. “Usually, maybe this time. We've never fought in an airless rock before.”
“At least we've got masks for everyone.” The Commissar offered. “So we've got that going for us.” He sighed as if going to continue, but then the elevator arrived and he changed his mind.
Col. Antunes Howlard. 64th Tiparingan Penal Legion
Col. Howlard finished wiping his face, sparing one last glance towards the mirror before striding out of the makeshift bathrooms mounted in the belly of the colossal transport ship. An officer of his rank should at least had received personal quarters, he was a Colonel for the Emperor's sake! But Howlard was already used to it, the slights, the snubbing, jealousy and spite of others. But it was useless to rage over it now, he had a meeting to attend. And he wouldn't give his so called “betters” the satisfaction of watching him rant and rave like a spoiled child. He knew how they whispered among themselves, laughing at him behind his back, at him and his regiment. But he would show them, maybe not today or tomorrow. But the time would come, no matter how long it took, he would show them.
The guardsmen on the entrance snapped crisp salutes when the Colonel finally emerged from the makeshift tents. Howlard nodded slightly at them, glad to see that this particular lot had taken at least part of their training to heart, before making his way towards the large elevators.
After a short walk through the rows of tents, which for the most part were up to his standards, he finally met the rest of his party for the imminent debriefing. Major Farzbard, as usual shadowed by that hideous creature of hers, and Commissar Torcharian, who at least had the decency of showing up sober this time.
The Major gave a quick salute, and her second did the same. While grinning at him with those disgusting sharpened metal teeth, couldn't she at least brush her mouth once in a while? And take a bath too while she was at it? He nodded back to the Major and the Commissar. As Farzbard's pet Sergeant took the hit and left without further ado.
“Shouldn't we bring more people with us?” The Commissar asked. Howlard noticed with some relief that his breath was actually clean. “At least the Captains. To save time later.” He finished, fidgeting with his coat.
“I doubt they would let us all in.” Farzbard snorted as she leaned over the control panel to call the elevator. “We might steal something.” She chuckled.
“Besides.” Howlard added, almost gritting his teeth. “We already know what will happen; they will put us in the vanguard and have us bleed the enemy white.”
“We are a Penal Legion, Colonel.” The Commissar replied. “That's what we are supposed to do.”
“But unlike the rest, we actually got a chance of seeing this through.” Farzbard added, still bent over the control panel. “Usually, maybe this time. We've never fought in an airless rock before.”
“At least we've got masks for everyone.” The Commissar offered. “So we've got that going for us.” He sighed as if going to continue, but then the elevator arrived and he changed his mind.
I'm in
I'm very interested. Loyal Imperial servant reporting for duty
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