Enigmatik

The Fumes of War

THE KINGDOM OF VYISSLAND

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Holtism was a plague. At least, that was what officer Oak Williamson thought. It seemed that every damn day there was another one standing up and waving about a red flag, and every time it happened it just lead to more suffering and misery. The guild system worked, it had been tried and tested, and look how well it provided for the average man and woman on the street. He carried a guild-made revolver at his hip, wore a guild-made uniform and walked about with guild-made boots. Holtism wished to throw all of that to the wind, and that was why Holtists had no place in Vyissland. Well, that, and their insistence in overthrowing the monarchy. Just expressing Holtist beliefs wasn’t a crime in and of itself, but speaking of overthrowing the monarchy? Now, that was conspiracy to commit treason, and there was only one way that traitors ended up in Vyissland.

Snap. The noose behind the officer went taut, and by turning back to the hooded figure, he could tell that it hadn’t been the rope that had just made that snap. The executioner turned down to the officer, before offering a small shrug. The broad-shouldered figure would stomp across the gallows and loosen it, the body falling through the trapdoor and hitting the ground with a muffled thump. Not many had turned out to see this execution, which was to be expected, it wasn’t a very ‘juicy’ one. The crowds didn’t get riled up unless there was someone seriously heinous up on the gallows. Like that woman, what had her name been? Mary Barrow? Something like that. Murdered her husband and her three kids, then had taken an axe to the head of the police officer who had investigated the noise. Nasty piece of work she had been, and the crowds had been baying for her blood. No quick snap for her either- that had been long, drawn out and nasty.

He may have seen a lot of executions in his time, but that didn’t make them particularly easy when the poor sod on the other end squirmed and kicked, ragged breaths upon ragged breaths until finally they stilled. Sometimes he wanted to just pull the silly bugger’s legs himself, end it, but the crowd always got riled up when that happened, and he normally had his hands full.
Bah, what had the world come to. Anarchists and traitors, the Zengrav up in arms and shooting each other like they hadn’t done before, Belzarov was up in arms… It was far too crazy for a normal man to live his life, and here these fellows were that wanted to ruin the prosperity that they had in Vyissland just so the workers didn’t have to work. Madness.

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One of the many duties that Crown Prince Marshal had was to periodically make a showing at the Bridge Cities- which one wasn’t entirely important as long as he went to one of them. Here, he was to spend a day walking about, inspecting the soldiers and machines that guarded the bridge between Vyiss and Bravsaara, shake the hands of a few generals and officers and have his picture taken so that the newspapers could have their daily dose of gossip about the royal family. Although normally he would have taken his wife with him, she had decided quite suddenly that she was feeling unwell, and that the rocking and bouncing of the train as it made its way towards the western coast was quite unbefitting of her and would only exacerbate her maladies.

In a way, it was a blessing, as it meant that he could have a proper meeting with a new guild leader… And if what he had heard was right, one of the youngest as well. Quite a figure too- where Marshal was broad-shouldered and had a respectably-grown beard, this new guild leader was slimmer, shorter and only had a set of still-growing sideburns. Nonetheless, it was not the appearance that made the man, and already Marshal had realised that Leon’s intelligence was quite beyond what his appearance would suggest.
“I must admit, when I learned that the guild of mechanised engineers had gotten themselves a new leader, I had expected almost everything but you.” The prince kept one hand on the table between them to keep himself grounded as the train rattled across a sweeping field. “But, I cannot say that I disagree, now that I have had the chance to talk with you. I believe that you’ll bring us great things, Mr Leon. Great things indeed.”

The Fumes of War

@Loo Tenant

We are indeed still open.

The Fumes of War

Bravsaara is no longer, so Vyissland must rise instead.

Vyissland

THE KINGDOM OF VYISSLAND

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|Geography:|

|Geographical Location of Country:| Vyissland occupies the Eastern Islands, and it's border with Belzarov is only interrupted with the fact that it has a puppet state on the mainland- Bravsaara.
|Country Size:|
|Cities:| Tarrenam: Vyissland's Capital. Located in the northernmost island, it's the centre of everything in the country. The church and the government both hold their homes there, as well as almost all of the guilds. It's filled with architecture dating back hundreds or even thousands of years, and it also features a revolutionary concept- underground mass transit systems.

Berrin: The capital of the southernmost island, and generally considered the most orthodox of all the main cities. It has excellent rail links to the rest of the country, and also features a natural deepwater port and drydocks.

Arrigony:

Intium and Antium: Known as the 'bridge bastions,' these are barely cities at all, only recognised as such thanks to a century-old-dictate by King Lawely's grandfather. The main military bases of the country, they are located on each of the two great bridges linking Vyissland to Bravsaara, and Antium is the home of the recently founded Royal Air Force.

|Natural Resources:| Vyissland is a relatively blessed countries. The essentials for industry- lumber, coal, iron and oil are relatively common in Vyissland, and its position means that it has very little to fear about these resources being taken away. Its sweeping, hilly terrain is home to plenty of sheep and horses, and although it has few truly rare resources, bar a smattering of semi-precious gemstones that can be found in some of the more southern mines.

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|People & Culture:|

The Vyiss are an old people. Their roots have been set in the islands which they live in for thousands of years, and really very little has changed for many of those years. The Vyiss are conservative- old fashioned and with old fashioned ways, and this shows not only in their system of government, but even in the very places that they live.

Vyiss society is neo-feudalistic. Although serfs are not forced to stay at one place, the cost of moving is prohibitively expensive and jobs can be hard to find for migrant workers. This leads to a system whereby unskilled rural labour rarely if ever changes, although industrialisation has had the side effect of causing some rural areas to experience plummeting numbers of workers as they flock to cities.

As well as this class of serfs, Vyissland's econonic systems are tied up in old guilds. Often hundreds of years old, entering guilds is a tricky process... Unless one already has relatives and friends willing to speak up for you. Thus, guilded families tend to have sons and daughters who also join the guilds, who in turn have their sons and daughters join the guilds, wheras outsiders, even skilled workers, struggle to penetrate these ranks. Once inside a guild however, quality of life rapidly improves, and guilded workers have the highest level of social and economic mobility in the entirety of Vyissland.

|Population:| Slightly under twenty-eight million people inhabit the two Vyiss islands.

|Demographics:| Ethnically, the Vyiss have links to the Nordmen, and a sizable minority are Gaelican and Belzarovian. Overall, there's a healthy mix of ethnicities and nationalities within the kingdom, although migrant workers often find that penetrating the thick mire that is the Vyiss job market can be a nightmare beyond any other.

|Government:| Vyissland is a neo-feudal monarchy. The country is lead by a king (and to a lesser extent the crown prince.) The monarchs are answered to by a collection of nobles underneath them, who in turn delegate power to guilds and elected mayors.

|Ruler:| King Lawley Falsevor and Crown Prince Marshal Falsevor. Should both die, Queen-Consort Ameline Falsevor and Princess-Consort Katarina Falsevor could also take power.

|Volksgeist:| The inherent spirit of your nation. What do the people stand for and want? What is the national identity, and how strong is it? This is where you give us several paragraphs about the culture of your people.

|Religion:| Vyissland's religious system is split in two- between the Orthodoxy, focused in the south, and the more liberal branches of the faith located in the north. Regardless of the branch however, the faith is fairly clear in a number of aspects. There are two gods- one male, one female. They have many aspects, each one of which may influence the life of the Vyiss in a myriad of different ways, and both of them are very, very happy that there is a king on the throne.

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|History:|

Give me something meaty to work with here.

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|Armed Forces:|

The Vyiss army is not the most modern in the world, but they make up for it with a very high quality of troop and equipment, as well as its fairly large comparative size. Almost all equipment is produced by one of three guilds, and becasue of the extremely exacting regulations and standards the guilds hold equipment to, Vyiss weaponry and vehicles has a pedigree of being extremley reliable, even after sustained usage in mud, sand and water.

Perhaps the most intruiging element of the Vyiss army is their unusually high reliance on mechs- oftentimes those that have been converted from civillian models, although there are also two military-designed mechs in service, those being the Edmonton and Valentine light mechs. The Edmonton is perhaps the more cumbersome of the two and the one that is more specialised, mounting a smaller cannon and four Silders machineguns, whilst the Valentine is far more generalist, with seven offically guild-authorised designs and several more unofficial ones.

Although these two vehicles are often seen on the frontline, the average soldier won't be in one. The The discerning Vyiss soldier will normally carry with him the IR-19, a bolt action rifle containing ten shots, reloaded individually or with a stripper clip. The IR-19 is extremley functional, coming with it a built-in 'pigsticker' bayonet lug, and the solid wooden constructon means that in a pinch, they can be used as clubs. Almost every single soldier will be equipped with this rifle, however there are some more situational weapons that can be used as well.

Firstly is the Silders heavy machine gun. Normally crewed by a two-man team, the Silders is a heavy gunmetal lump of a weapon.

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|People of Interest:|

POV characters. A short description as well. Feel free to update this as you want to.

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|Starting Tech:|

Armour: Tier 3.
Electronics: Tier 2.
Material: Tier 2.

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The Fumes of War

This is going to work a little different to it did last time. As soon as your CS is accepted, you can post in the IC.

The Fumes of War

Discord Link || Tech Tree Link

Aega is a world set culturally in the interwar period of the 20th century. It has had an unusually long period of international peace, although local revolutions and breakaway states have occurred in recent years. The discovery of crude oil, and the refining techniques needed to turn it into diesel have sparked a revolution of the technological sort. This increase in technology, particularly with its uses for war has understandably made many nervous, and it seems that far from ushering in a new age of prosperity in this era of peace, nothing but all-out war shall break out. Philosophically, Aega is a blend between both of the wars. Totalitarian fascist and communists regimes sit side by side with old empire and kingdoms. Milder nationalists, democratic republicans, socialists and theocratic dictatorships all hold sway in this world, causing a unique mixture the likes of which will be totally destroyed by the war. After all, only one side can come out standing.

IMPORTANT

We are currently OPEN! You may join us if you want to! Feel free to join the discord and give us a shout!

Rules:

• What I say is final. I am the GM. If I say something, that is what happens. I wish to be a harsh, yet benevolent dictator, don't worry.
• Follow Guild rules. Be Fonzie cool, no harassment or any of that. If you must have drama, keep it to PMs, or bring in mods.
• Don't Godmod. Nothing sucks more than someone pulling out a superweapon in the middle of a battle and wiping half an army out without letting the other person respond. If they've agreed to that, that's different, but then that ain't godmodding.
• KEEP THINGS GOING. I've been burned out with rapidly dead games before. I refuse to let that happen here. I will be poking people on Discord to post, and I will try my best to post in a reasonable space of time. Thank you.

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The Nation Sheet

NAME OF COUNTRY

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|Geography:|

|Geographical Location of Country:| Where your country is located in Idiea. Simple as.
|Country Size:| Roughly, how big is your country? Square kilometres or miles is fine, just make sure there’s a clear distinction. For reference, each square pixel of the map is around 256 kilometres, or 16x16 kilometres.
|Cities:| Self-explanatory, I hope. Important cities, basically.
|Natural Resources:| Is your country blessed with a surplus of various supplies, and where are main deposits of this supply located? Obvious resources would be crude, iron, coal, lumber, but anything you can come up with that a country might need can be put here. I will determine if this is fair, with the understanding that imbalances will happen.

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|People & Culture:|

|Population:| How many people live in your country? Roughly speaking, of course.
|Demographics:| Feel free to talk to other players regarding demographics or make up ethnic groups within your own country. If you want to be like Austria-Hungary, with approximately eight thousand different ethnic groups within, feel free.
|Government:| What is the way your country is ruled. This can be anything from an absolutist democracy or theocratic dictatorship to a democratic republic. All up to you.
|Ruler:| Current leader of your country, or leadership in the case of a senate/group of people.
|Volksgeist:| The inherent spirit of your nation. What do the people stand for and want? What is the national identity, and how strong is it? This is where you give us several paragraphs about the culture of your people.
|Religion:| How prominent is religion in the country, and which faith(s) do they worship?

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|History:|

Give me something meaty to work with here.

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|Armed Forces:|

Be prepared to write a lot. I’m leaving this fairly open to what you guys want to do, but I want at LEAST infantry arms, premiere vehicles, navy/airforce details, military uniforms, organisational structure, etc, etc, etc. This is an RP heavily based around combat, after all.

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|People of Interest:|

POV characters. A short description as well. Feel free to update this as you want to.

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|Starting Tech:|

You start with four points to spread out throughout the tech tree. Each point equals a single box, and you can invest them any way you'd wish.

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Fumes of War: A Dieselpunk RP

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Fumes of War: A Dieselpunk Nation RP

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Fumes of War: A Dieselpunk RP

Aeagan has been at peace for almost a century. The flames of war were quenched and the blacksmiths went back to hammering ploughs, but now? It seems like that is coming to an end. Technological advancement has stoked the flames of ambition and competition like the world has never seen before. The power of crude, the sticky black stuff that reeks and powers the world... It is sending countries mad, and with each descent into the greed for black gold comes the rearmament. Still, politicians claim that war will never happen. There will be peace, they say.

Pah! Peace. It looks to me like you should be readying for war!

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The Fumes of War is a curious idea I've had. If you're aware of upcoming RTS game Iron Harvest, the ideas are somewhat similar. Dieselpunk, to put it in simpler terms, is what happens when the idealism of steampunk runs out. World War 1 brings the Victorian romanticism to a clothesline stop, and the interwar period, rise of facism and other extreme ideologies brings the worse out in people.

This, is slightly different. In the continent of Aeagan, roughly comparable to Europe of the 1920s and 1930s, global war has not happened. The kingdoms and empires that made up the continent remained on a steady course, but that is about to come to a halt. Rapid advancements in technology have suddenly opened the floodgates for weapons technology in a way that has never been seen before. Understandably, tensions are rising, and the diesel that now powers the world is now ripe to be sparked, dragging perhaps the entire world into a combat the likes of which have never been seen before.

Philosophically, Empires are a real part of the world still. Civic and Chauvinsitic Nationalism, racial supremacy, blossoming democracy, absolutist monarchy and totalitarian dictatorships butt heads like never before. Communism is a wildfire idea that is dismissed in parlour houses but spoke of on factory floors, the nation state is tussling with its directions... With you at the helm.

At the core of it, this will be a nitty-gritty game.

Exactly how it'll play out is still being worked out in my head, but if you just want to write a bit casually, this won't be for you. Apologies. I also am looking for people who will have long term interest. If you're going to vamoose after a few posts, then there's no need to bother in the first place.

That being said, I look forward to seeing if folks are interested! A Discord server can be found here: discord.gg/QQ69Mjz

Calling those that expressed interest last time

@Lady Selune@Theodorable@BCTheEntity@Sierra@Strange Rodent@Elgappa@6slyboy6@Marquise@lordzell@captainbritton@lauder@yungtweak

Fumes of War: A Dieselpunk Nation RP

Aeagan has been at peace for almost a century. The flames of war were quenched and the blacksmiths went back to hammering ploughs, but now? It seems like that is coming to an end. Technological advancement has stoked the flames of ambition and competition like the world has never seen before. The power of crude, the sticky black stuff that reeks and powers the world... It is sending countries mad, and with each descent into the greed for black gold comes the rearmament. Still, politicians claim that war will never happen. There will be peace, they say.

Pah! Peace. It looks to me like you should be readying for war!

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The Fumes of War is a curious idea I've had. If you're aware of upcoming RTS game Iron Harvest, the ideas are somewhat similar. Dieselpunk, to put it in simpler terms, is what happens when the idealism of steampunk runs out. World War 1 brings the Victorian romanticism to a clothesline stop, and the interwar period, rise of facism and other extreme ideologies brings the worse out in people.

This, is slightly different. In the continent of Aeagan, roughly comparable to Europe of the 1920s and 1930s, global war has not happened. The kingdoms and empires that made up the continent remained on a steady course, but that is about to come to a halt. Rapid advancements in technology have suddenly opened the floodgates for weapons technology in a way that has never been seen before. Understandably, tensions are rising, and the diesel that now powers the world is now ripe to be sparked, dragging perhaps the entire world into a combat the likes of which have never been seen before.

Philosophically, Empires are a real part of the world still. Civic and Chauvinsitic Nationalism, racial supremacy, blossoming democracy, absolutist monarchy and totalitarian dictatorships butt heads like never before. Communism is a wildfire idea that is dismissed in parlour houses but spoke of on factory floors, the nation state is tussling with its directions... With you at the helm.

At the core of it, this will be a nitty-gritty game.

Exactly how it'll play out is still being worked out in my head, but if you just want to write a bit casually, this won't be for you. Apologies. I also am looking for people who will have long term interest. If you're going to vamoose after a few posts, then there's no need to bother in the first place.

That being said, I look forward to seeing if folks are interested! A Discord server can be found here: discord.gg/QQ69Mjz

The Dawn of the Civilization (Stone age tribal NRP)

"Hunters of the night, together we call for your blessing." The chant occurred, a terrible sound of rising and lowering pitches, melodic and dischordant all at once. The choir of voices, men, women, and even a hound that had been swept up in the fervour, letting out an unrestrained howl, would float up into the night, to where the masters of the hunt would hopefully hear their call. "We need your strength. Your ferocity. Your tenacity. Your courage. Strengthen us, and use us as conduits for your might." On it went, the fire that the group of warriors had gathered around sparking and dancing higher and higher with each line spoken.

The chant would go on, and then at the very end, the fire would grow black. The last lick of flame darted up, and was then snuffed, the entire great fire quenched in an instant by a howl of wind. The smoke rising up, the warriors would take deep breaths, turning to one another. The beat of wood against the ground would then occur. AWAKEN SPIRITS, AWAKEN STONE. AWAKEN SPIRITS, AWAKEN SINEW. AWAKEN SPIRITS, AWAKEN STONE, AWAKEN SPIRITS, AWAKEN SINEW..." The new chant grew in speed until it was almost incomprehensible, and then a feral HOU-AAAAAH! marked its end as well, a deep sense of fervour built up by the hyperventilation... and the intervention of those that they had pleaded to.

Let the hunt begin.

Now that they were not attempting to make a sound, the Aishrek warriors were whisper-silent. Each footfall was naught but a cat's tread, the only trace of the single-file line being a slight disturbance in the grass. The firelight they were drawn to was emitted from a clustered series of huts, just inside the treeline. Slinking through the fields, the warriors would fan out through the woods and encircle the settlement. Conversation wafted up- and there, a sentry was idly standing in a small mud 'box,' looking exhausted.

The thwip of an arrow, the deathly trail it left behind silent, spelled the end for the sentry. The head had pierced the man's throat, and the shaft was buried in his windpipes. Grasping up at where this strange stick now sat, only a quiet gurgle or two could make their way past the man's lips, his killers now unimpeded in preparing the ambush.

Those inside the camp would have almost no warning. A dog's bark, and then a blur of teeth and muscle shot its way into the camp, lunging at the first person it found and clamping onto their leg. A piercing scream would awaken all but the deepest sleepers, but it was much too late to stop the attackers. Axes, spears, torches and daggers were the weapons of choice, the camp being overrun by the chants of "KOURA KOURA KOURA" bellowed out. Then, one by one, the screams and the shouts stopped.

By the time that the dawn light had risen, all that remained of the camp were the inflammable buildings that the tribe had left and the bodies.

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Filla felt as the adrenaline and the spirits left her body. They had driven her into the battle-lust that she had asked them to provide her, and in return she had given into the slaughter. The end of her axe was stained crimson, although no drips came from it any more. The battle was but a whirl in her mind- splitting a skull here, knocking over a torch stand there. Her throat was sore from the shouts and the screams, but in her heart she knew that she had done her people proud.

The walk to the Aishrek camp was done in confident silence. Those that had remained looked to the warriors, fists pressed against chests as a sign of respect for their achievements. Before the young woman could continue any further, Ulkren, the huntsmaster, had placed a heavy hand onto her shoulder, squeezing it firmly. "Your father would be proud, and your soul is blooded. We must make you an adult." The man may have been approaching his thirty-third winter, but he was by no means showing it. Every inch of Ulkren was the warrior he had been ten years ago, right down to the blood running down his spear and staining his hand.

"COME NOW. ONE OF US HAS FINISHED HER FIRST HUNT. THE SPIRITS HAVE TAKEN HER AWAY TO THEIR DOMAIN, AND RETURNED HER, HAVING SEEN HER WORTHY OF THEIR STRENGTH." The man's voice boomed around the camp, and one of the woman had already moved towards the spirit's tent, coming out with a bundle. Ulkren looked down at Filla, a stern smile on his face, and placed her down on her knees in front of the fire. Tell me. When the spirits overcame you... How did you feel?"

Filla's blood drained from her face. She had known she would need to answer this, and yet... She wasn't sure how she had felt. Stammering a little, she answered. "It was... It was if this wave crashed over me, and took me away with it. I don't remember much." She looked up at the man, who scrutinised her for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well then. I know which spirit overtook you." The woman who had retrieved the bundle now keeled in front of the girl, Ulkren muttering something into her ear. The woman would nod and examine Fillia, before retrieving a lethally sharp shard and mutely indicating towards the jerkin and armour she was wearing.

Reluctantly, the huntress would remove it, shivering slightly as the dawn air chilled bare skin. There was hush from the tribe, and then the first cut would be made. Fillia stiffened, feeling as blood ran down her chest and soaked into the ground, but otherwise remained quiet, looking straight ahead at a point on the horizon. More cuts would follow, until the sun had truly risen above the sky and she was sure that there could be no more blood left around her chest. At long last the woman would stop, wiping at Fillia's chest with a cloth in order to clean much of the blood away. "Almost done," came the first muttered words the woman had spoken, before taking a gourd and splashing the liquid across Fillia's chest.

A strong hand would painfully rub the liquid into the cuts, and then shakily the woman would help Fillia to her feat. When she stood, exhausted, and yet with the pain giving her a rush like nothing else, Ulkren would place a hand to his chest. "NO MORE A CHILD. FILLIA, CAST DOWN THE NAME GIVEN TO CHILDREN. TAKE UP THE NAME OF AN ADULT. THE SPIRIT OF THE BOAR HAS TAKEN YOU, GEREKEN."

She had never felt more proud.