Nevis

The Lost Lands of Ialdia: A paired high fantasy RP

Holy, you're alive.

... huh. It's been for a LOT of people.

The Lost Lands of Ialdia: A paired high fantasy RP

We're waiting on that update, Dext.

The Lost Lands of Ialdia: A paired high fantasy RP

*sighs*

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Spaces added. Yeah, I know EXACTLY what you mean.

That misconception right there is partly the reason why I'm as I am with history. Our perceptions of peoples are influenced by what we think they've done or will do which affects our actions towards them. 'Western' stereotypes of the Middle East have so much wrong with them contribute in massive part to the situations over there-hence, to me, having an accurate paradigm-details are just a bonus, it's the basic paradigm about such things that's important-is not so much an issue with historical accuracy itself-it's an issue of war, humanity and responsibility. Fictional media has a much greater responsibility than it's usually viewed with (except by conservatives who want to blame it for EVERYTHING which is just as harmful in it's own way).

On a different note, why the heck is it named 'Turkey'?

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Okay, here's the edited version

Uriel le Crosse

Name: Uriel ('flame/light of god') Le Crosse (Aryanpur)

Age: 23

Race: Human

Nationality: Sarifan-Valanian half-breed

Allegiance: Questionable-if any

Appearance: I will get a piece of artwork here later; until then, of medium height and a thin build and profile. His appearance looks more Valanian (caucasian) with darker skin for his Sarifan heritage. His hair is dark brown with a copper-gold sheen, cut roughly an inch-and-a-half long and his oblong face is clean-shaven.
In terms of garb, he usually sports a red and black leather vest atop a thinly sleeved, hooded black tunic, grey pants and knee-high black boots. At his belt is a bastard sword of a quality far exceeding the rest of his attire, it's gold-colored Sarifen and Valanian designs and massive blood-red gem set into each side of the guard leading many to think it is stolen, and at his back is a satchel and a rather rugged bow and quiver.

Profession: Occasional thief and/or bandit, occasional mercenary, aristocrat, mage-for-hire

Biography: Uriel is, put simply, a bastard. Born of woman from a side-branch who survived the genocide of most of the Le Crosse family, he is one of Emperor Anush Arash
Aryanpur I's rumored illegitimate children. This alone damned him as subject to political intrigue and a complicated family ere he was ever born, nevermind the ramifications of
his Le Crosse heritage.

Raised early alongside his doting mother, a concubine to the Sarifan Emperor and possessed of an instinctive ambition-perhaps inherited from his father-, he developed a myriad of prideful, arrogant traits so characteristic to royal brats-too, though, a certain level of respect for gentleness and kindness. He, as per his mother's relative wealth and
position, was educated extremely well. Particularly of note was his apparent talent for magic bordering on prodigial.

However, such men are want to lose interest in their paramours and whores-and, eventually, Anush did. Uriel's mother's favor began to wane until he eventually lost all interest in her. The funding for raising Uriel evaporated and, over the course of a few years, lost nearly everything-their estate taken in the conquest of Valania, her title given to another and all means of wealth gone, they became little higher than beggars in the street. For all her doting upon her 'little angel', Uriel's pride took more than a blow, having fallen from the son-even if an unrecognized bastard-of the Emperor to an outcast. Even during their time so poor, she idolized him; however, only to her was he the center of the world any longer, thrust into a city that did not care for him any longer. The sheer disparity was maddening and inset a strong doubt in him regarding his assumed place in relation to others. As he entered early adolescence, he began to suspect many things about his mother-and, by extension, himself. He began to respond to her praises and
kisses with silence.

Eventually his concerns seemed to be confirmed; she grew ill and soon thereafter died to a disease especially common among prostitutes. His sweet, weak mother had been selling herself to support them. His bitter shame and anger at her festered as he finally was thrown into the street in full, no longer having even the money to stay their landlord.

Effectively an orphan, Uriel fell in with the other children of the street and left to survive a harsh life of stealing and running; he quickly learned to dart and run through the city, to speak with the foul-tongued and fight with what had previously been called 'dirty' tactics to endure.

However, to one born and trained so strongly, he came to dominate within a few years, and his arrogance again began to grow. While generally kind and caring, there was unquestionably a certain self-righteousness in him and an unrelenting belief-and constant need to prove-his own self-worth. He ruled as a king among the other young thieves and orphans for a time.

Yet, never was he content. While he felt much empathy amongst the others, he was always plagued by a sense that he did not belong. Often he would go and listen to traveller's tales of the world beyond the filthy back-streets, of other grand nations, of magic and of the workings of the world. It reminded him of what he had fallen from and of the few happy days he had thought he had belonged somewhere-his rightful place. These feelings weighed on him for several years before he finally heeded his craving. With only brief explanation, he prepared supplies and left the Sarifan city to see the other half of his heritage-Valdania.

It was far, far different from what he expected-the only culture he had seen in full was Sarifan before. The difference was striking-yet, somewhat familiar, akin to his pale, fair mother. It was here that he met a mage, to whom, after a time, convinced him to take him on as an apprentice. For three years, as he neared twenty, he studied under the genial old man-and again his pride was assaulted, for the strange old fool would have none of it. He schooled Uriel in philosophy and morality as much as magic, and Uriel, with such great respect for the man, listened enough to fall into deep confusion again. A certain kindness that had left him when his mother died began to wake again, a softness, a gentleness. It put him at great unease.

So, after three years, confused and seeking answers, he decided to seek audience with his father-to solve the aching madness in him that asked who and what he was. He returned to Sarifan and, surprisingly, was actually granted audience-even a bastard had some of his father's attention, it seemed. When asked, he showed his father his abilities who was much delighted and gave him a title and issued a smith and tailor to garb him as befitting a prince with such promise.

He had difficulty at court though-bastards are rarely popular, even with their parent's favor. And, too, there was something about his magic that upset the other court nobles and even mages-and even the Zendricaanist Inquisition. Eventually, a conflict of some sort took place in the open between them and Uriel fled, returning to Valdania to seek his mentor-only to find him gone, having suddenly left and with virtually no trail to follow him by.

Once again lost and with so many conflicting emotions, he began to travel Valdania on foot. His purse ran out and bandits were plentiful-he again resorted to thievery or even armed robbery to avoid sleeping in the dirt again. After one bandit attack while he was travelling with another group, he was hired as an escort to their destination-it was easy money and less shameful, if more bloody. He soon found that such mercenary odd-jobs-escorting, retrieving and so on-were a lucrative market that funded his travels well and was soon ensnared in it and, before he knew it, several years had passed, only for him to snap awake and realize that in his search, he had stopped truly searching for his answers. All he had to show for it, in the end, was blood on his hands and unanswered questions. Truly, he seemed damned to this aching emptiness inside him.

A bad peace is perhaps the worst kind of war.

None are loyal to me within the city; beyond ten miles out, I am become their target.

To place the common good before one's own is to be tyrannized by the masses.

And all things come to this...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

I'm still here, I've... had an off few days and I've been irresponsible. I'll get on doing those edits to my cs today.

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Haha, yeah, I was figuring I was going to bring up that exact point about firearms and state armies-that what made them viable again was firearms which took an extremely short amount of time comparatively to become proficient with. What made mercenaries so valuable before was that the amount of skill (and thus training) necessary to use arms previously was just so much rarer and more time-consuming to obtain that nations couldn't hold such large numbers on their own-they had to be hired. With the advent of firearms, though, this reason for hiring mercenaries en masse evaporated, which soon lead to the decline of mercenaries not too long after that of knights.

As for the nationalistic loyalties-yes. This is a reason why Machievelli's 'The Prince' garners much more respect now than it did within its own day as it dealt with the situations and politics of a region extremely divided by smaller local loyalties and how to deal with it-it applies perhaps more to modern America than it did to Renaissance/Early Modern Italy.

Anyways, I'm off to read the IC post and edit my cs.

The Lost Lands of Ialdia: A paired high fantasy RP

Heh. Keep praisin', Brolaire.

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Yeah, that it took cranes to hoist up people in plate armor is a myth-yet another one that probably comes out of the Victorian era and fencing.

Full-plate armor was actually more flexible at the joints (except along the back and waist) than the human body and, torso aside, allowed for a greater range of movement than a human's own bones do.
While, yes, full-plate armor weighed an enormous amount, this weight was very distributed across the body. This weight was more an issue for stamina than speed or control. In fact, people skilled enough at moving in it were recorded to be able to run, climb, roll and with enough practice, even swim while in full-plate armor.
I've also linked that same 'armor aerobics' video myself before. The image of someone cartwheeling and handspringing in full-plate is one that I adore.

And not exactly. There were two primary factors that I'm aware of that were the cause of plate armor's decline. One was the increasing refinement of firearms which were able to pierce full-plate at short range, rendering it in fact a liability as it afforded no protection and at the cost of speed and so on. The second is more complicated.
Feudalism was already declining at a rapidly increasing pace because the Crusades had set in place trade routes that made mercantilism much easier and doable. Over the course of several centuries, this gradually fundamentally changed the distribution of wealth within Europe as freemen and merchants rose in prominence and numbers, which had an economic effect that turned the control of few resources that made feudalism work for the nobility on it's head. Retaining wealth by land rights and gaining in through conquest no longer presented anywhere near the same level of fortune as before, which is the economic system that knights were built upon. This alone threw them into decline and falling in prominence and practicality.

Then, there is the case of mercenaries in Renaissance and Early Modern Europe, one of the most misunderstood and important elements in that situation today. Long before, skill at arms was a hard and time-consuming skill to acquire. Drafted armies of peasants sucked because they often had little time to train them-a lot of countries actually had laws regarding how LONG they could be drafted for, and it actually wasn't very long. Comparatively, hiring professional mercenaries-who supplied their own gear, had years of training and experience and skill and could be hired and discharged quickly was vastly more effective. While they weren't elite as, say, heavy horseman knights in full plate armor, they were certainly [i]quite]/i] good at combat.

This all had an economic effect of making the previous means of having power-controlling a very limited amount of resources-increasingly obsolete. Knights became poorer and poorer while better equipment became more and more available and accessible. Meanwhile, guns were making headway and decreasing full-plate armor's practicality as well.

So, um, yeah. I started that half-a-day ago and then I was pulled into something for the rest of the day and it's late and I'm not sure where I was going with that. Anyways, armor-and-mercenar-rant-ish-thing over.

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Name: Uriel ('flame/light of god') Le Crosse (Aryanpur)
Age: 23
Race: Human
Nationality: Sarifan-Valanian half-breed
Allegiance: Questionable-if any
Appearance: I will get a piece of artwork here later; until then, of medium height and a thin build and profile. His appearance looks more Valanian (caucasian) with darker skin for his Sarifan heritage. His hair is dark brown with a copper-gold sheen, cut roughly an inch-and-a-half long and his oblong face is clean-shaven.
In terms of garb, he usually sports a red and black leather vest atop a thinly sleeved, hooded black tunic, grey pants and knee-high black boots. At his belt is a bastard sword of a quality far exceeding the rest of his attire, it's gold-colored Sarifen and Valanian designs and massive blood-red gem set into each side of the guard leading many to think it is stolen, and at his back is a satchel and a rather rugged bow and quiver.
Profession: Occasional thief and/or bandit, occasional mercenary, aristocrat, mage-for-hire
Biography: Uriel is, put simply, a bastard. Born of woman from a side-branch who survived the genocide of most of the Le Crosse family, he is one of Emperor Anush Arash Aryanpur I's rumored illegitimate children. This alone damned him as subject to political intrigue and a complicated family ere he was ever born, nevermind the ramifications of his Le Crosse heritage.
Raised early alongside his doting mother, a concubine to the Sarifan Emperor and possessed of an instinctive ambition-perhaps inherited from his father-, he developed a myriad of prideful, arrogant traits so characteristic to royal brats-too, though, a certain level of respect for gentleness and kindness. He, as per his mother's relative wealth and position, was educated extremely well. Particularly of note was his apparent talent for magic bordering on prodigial.
However, such men are want to lose interest in their paramours and whores-and, eventually, Anush did. Uriel's mother's favor began to wane until he eventually lost all interest in her. The funding for raising Uriel evaporated and, over the course of a few years, lost nearly everything-their estate taken in the conquest of Valania, her title given to another and all means of wealth gone, they became little higher than beggars in the street. For all her doting upon her 'little angel', Uriel's pride took more than a blow, having fallen from the son-even if an unrecognized bastard-of the Emperor to an outcast. Even during their time so poor, she idolized him; however, only to her was he the center of the world any longer, thrust into a city that did not care for him any longer. The sheer disparity was maddening and inset a strong doubt in him regarding his assumed place in relation to others. As he entered early adolescence, he began to suspect many things about his mother-and, by extension, himself. He began to respond to her praises and kisses with silence.
Eventually his concerns seemed to be confirmed; she grew ill and soon thereafter died to a disease especially common among prostitutes. His sweet, weak mother had been selling herself to support them. His bitter shame and anger at her festered as he finally was thrown into the street in full, no longer having even the money to stay their landlord.
Effectively an orphan, Uriel fell in with the other children of the street and left to survive a harsh life of stealing and running; he quickly learned to dart and run through the city, to speak with the foul-tongued and fight with what had previously been called 'dirty' tactics to endure.
However, to one born and trained so strongly, he came to dominate within a few years, and his arrogance again began to grow. While generally kind and caring, there was unquestionably a certain self-righteousness in him and an unrelenting belief-and constant need to prove-his own self-worth. He ruled as a king among the other young thieves and orphans for a time.
Yet, never was he content. While he felt much empathy amongst the others, he was always plagued by a sense that he did not belong. Often he would go and listen to traveller's tales of the world beyond the filthy back-streets, of other grand nations, of magic and of the workings of the world. It reminded him of what he had fallen from and of the few happy days he had thought he had belonged somewhere-his rightful place. These feelings weighed on him for several years before he finally heeded his craving. With only brief explanation, he prepared supplies and left the Sarifan city to see the other half of his heritage-Valdania.
It was far, far different from what he expected-the only culture he had seen in full was Sarifan before. The difference was striking-yet, somewhat familiar, akin to his pale, fair mother. It was here that he met a mage, to whom, after a time, convinced him to take him on as an apprentice. For three years, as he neared twenty, he studied under the genial old man-and again his pride was assaulted, for the strange old fool would have none of it. He schooled Uriel in philosophy and morality as much as magic, and Uriel, with such great respect for the man, listened enough to fall into deep confusion again. A certain kindness that had left him when his mother died began to wake again, a softness, a gentleness. It put him at great unease.
So, after three years, confused and seeking answers, he decided to seek audience with his father-to solve the aching madness in him that asked who and what he was. He returned to Sarifan and, surprisingly, was actually granted audience-even a bastard had some of his father's attention, it seemed. When asked, he showed his father his abilities who was much delighted and gave him a title and issued a smith and tailor to garb him as befitting a prince with such promise.
Yet little came of it. While the sword and clothes were tangible, the title itself was effectively worthless, acquiring him neither lands nor vocation nor income, and a mage of the Valdanian sort was in no demand in Sarife, their magic considered foreign or lesser or even blasphemous to some. And his father the Emperor, beyond meeting him, showed little interest in him-it was all pomp. Disgusted and once-again abandoned and his questions unanswered, he left to find the guidance of his mage-mentor-only to find him vanished, left from his shop and leaving no apparent trail.
Once again lost and with so many conflicting emotions, he began to travel Valdania on foot. His purse ran out and bandits were plentiful-he again resorted to thievery or even armed robbery to avoid sleeping in the dirt again. After one bandit attack while he was travelling with another group, he was hired as an escort to their destination-it was easy money and less shameful, if more bloody. He soon found that such mercenary odd-jobs-escorting, retrieving and so on-were a lucrative market that funded his travels well and was soon ensnared in it and, before he knew it, several years had passed, only for him to snap awake and realize that in his search, he had stopped truly searching for his answers. All he had to show for it, in the end, was blood on his hands and unanswered questions. Truly, he seemed damned to this aching emptiness inside him.