Zamokra41

Strangeland | Legends Never Die

Twas a good end, it didn’t happen the way he would have preferred but a good end nonetheless, after all he fell to the blade of a once close friend and a now superior warrior…at least that’s what he was telling himself right before the world darken before his eyes. Oddly enough he felt at peace, the kind of peace one probably expected of death maybe, or in his case, SHOULD expect. The transition was instantaneous, one moment he was on all fours, coughing blood to rival the stream flowing from his chest, surrounded by a grassy meadow on a cobblestone street and in the blink of an eye he was in the same position yet a vastly different place. A soft gasp escaped his lips as he gazed at the ground, a large blanket of pure white roses sprouted all around, their thin tulips escaping through the gaps between his fingers. Curious enough, he was no longer in pain. He slowly stood up, a baffled expression plastered on his face as he was inspecting his person and then his surroundings. He appeared to be perfectly fine, no wounds, no pain, nothing, and he was in the middle of an apparent endless ocean of white roses stretching as far as the eye could see in the horizon and, as he suspected, beyond that. He uttered a fain “Wha..” before turning around, feeling a presence behind him. His muscles tensed and he instinctively reached for his weapon expecting an opponent, yet he was surprised to find that he was grasping at nothing, his sword no longer by his side and before him stood not an armed foe but a woman, dressed in a long dress of a white so immaculate one could easily confuse it with the roses surrounding her, making it look like she was part of this place. Her face was the only thing hidden, obscured by the palms of her hands, stained so heavily with blood that they stood out from the environment like a sore thumb. Just who is this person?

Sairasu sheepishly approached her, it was rare for him to be THIS cautious when dealing with an unarmed person, “What…what is this..place?” he uttered, his words apparently falling on deaf ears as the woman gave no answer. He walked closer, repeating his question yet still no answer. Only then did he notice that his whole body was numb, looking around and even at the dress of the woman one could clearly tell that a light breeze was sweeping through the meadow yet Sairasu did not feel its chilling caress or anything else for that matter. “Is this…” he muttered stretching an arm, gingerly, towards the woman, strands from her long, jet-black hair brushing lightly against his fingers as the breeze blew, he didn’t feel that either. Only mere inches from touching her crimson colored hands did he stop, clenching his outstretched palm into a fist as he completed his unfinished previous sentence “Is this…Hell?”. He retracted his hand, still no answer, the woman was simply standing there right in front of him yet apparently ignoring him. Sairasu closed his one good eye, taking a deep breath. What now?

Without any alternatives he started to wander, aimlessly, through the field. He had no sense of direction where he was going, there were absolutely no changes in the environment no matter which way he went or how far, not that he could tell exactly HOW far he was going anyway. He gazed up, trying to see if he could get a vague idea of direction by observing the clouds yet the sky was an immense, monotone canvas of grey, he couldn’t even see the sun…he couldn’t even tell if there WAS any sun to begin with. He kept wandering, on and on for what seemed like an ungodly amount of time. He felt the minutes stretching out to hours and the hours to days, yet no matter how far or how long he was wandering he always seemed to somehow come back to the place where he started, where this mysterious woman in white stood, patiently waiting for him with her bloody hands cupping her face. Sairasu was lost. Utterly and completely lost. He sighed deeply and proceeded to sit himself down among the roses, next to where the woman was standing. “If this is Hell, is this my punishment?” he asked yet not expecting an answer. He thought about it. IF this is indeed his punishment, for a warrior who only knew battle and did nothing but seek out more and more opponents in life, to wander around a ‘barren’ field for all eternity with nothing to fight, that sort of punishment would actually be…”Fitting…” he muttered, a sad grin crossing his face as if he was coming to terms with his fate. This still didn’t explain the woman though… What is her presence here supposed to….

His train of thoughts were interrupted as he turned his gaze towards here only to see that the woman in white had suddenly vanished from sight. Now he was all alone… a mix of emotions started to fill him, angst, fear, confusion, curiosity and dread all rolled into one. He heard something. A distant sound echoing all around him… a familiar sound…it sounded like….a heartbeat.

In a mere, unperceivable instant all was dark again. However, it did not remain for long. The darkness slowly crumbled away, giving way to a messy blur as his vision was slowly recovering. He was hearing more sounds…the sounds of dirt being tossed aside by shovels, the sounds of stitches stretching out on leathery clothing…and voices…he heard voices yet couldn’t make out what they were saying. It took several moments for both his vision and hearing to clarify until he could figure out what was going on. He was gazing at the sky….yet this sky was not the same grey slab from before…this one was shrouded by dark stormclouds and obscured by the bony branches of a lifeless tree. What he heard were a pair of guttural voices, bickering about something….Sairasu listened closely… “Oi, hurry tha’ feck up woud’ja ? See them clouds up’a bove? Moveit !” the second voice which answered had a sharper tone “Shut’it ye git’! Me thinks we got’ourelves a good haul..Look a’ this ‘ere !” Sairasu’s curiosity made him slightly lift his head and turn his gaze to see what those two voices were talking about…that’s when he saw Meiyaku, his weapon, his most prized possession, still sheathed in its scabbard, lifted just above him in the raggedy grips of a stranger. “Look’a tha’t… How much ye’reckon’ this ‘ere be worth, ei?” the guttural voice answered in a more aggressive tone than before “I onl’y reckon’ it be belongin’ to me!” That’s when a second heavily clothed pair of hands stretched out and grabbed at his weapon, trying to pry it away from the first pair of hands. “Oi, bugge’r tha’ feck off, mate! Finder’s keeper’s, that’s how we work !” the sharper voice protested and was meet only with a series of insults from the guttural one as the two pairs of hands were apparently fighting for the katana just above Sairasu’s head.

He didn’t understand COMPLETELY what was happening…yet he did understand that someone was trying to steal his treasured Meiyaku and he wasn’t about to just let it happen. Suddenly, his body no longer felt numb or stiff, his muscled tensed and he could feel burning life coursing through it as he promptly pushed himself up, parting away the thin layer of dirt that still remained over his lap. His hand was outstretched and he suddenly gripped the katana by the middle, claiming it back where it rightfully belonged.

“Mine…”

In a few seconds after he said that, the two grave-robbers jumped back, screeching in sheer terror at what happened. One of them tripped over the shovel planted in the ground behind him and fell on his hind while the other in a fumbled in sheer panic under his raggedy thick coat before pulling out a large knife. “Wh…wh…wh..a…What tha’ feck is’a that!? Who…who tha’ feck…WHAT tha’feck are ye?!” he stuttered and shouted, fear present in his voice as Sairasu stood up and walked out of his shallow grave. He proceeded to grip the handle of his katana and slowly draw the blade out from its scabbard, the sound of metal ringing through the air as the other man was gathering himself up from the ground, so dazed and scarred that he nearly toppled all over again while trying to regain his balance. The one with the knife kept cursing, over and over, while cold fear run down his spine, the second grave-robber quickly grabbed the shovel behind him to defend himself with before shouting “Feck! It’s one o’ them Blood Plagued bugger’s ! “ his affirmation was met with yet another panicked question from his associate “Blood Plagued? What tha’ feck’ ar’e we s’possed tha’ do now?!” the question was answered with a rushed “How tha’ bloody ‘ell am I s’possed tha’ feckin’ know?!” Sairasu couldn’t help but grin manically as he lifted the katana, its naked blade pointing at the sky. “I have an idea…” he muttered, his tone sounding more grim than he probably intended. He let the scabbard fall to the ground as he proceeded to a fighting stance “..How about you die?” he uttered and then the air of the small grove was filled with the short and loud screams of terror of the two grave-robbers as Sairasu sliced them limb from limb, the sprouting blood showering the dead grass and staining their raggedy clothes as their lifeless bodies fell motionless to the ground.

It was only after his head cleared of the bloodlust that had suddenly got a hold of him, that Sairasu began to process and realize his current situation. “I…I’m alive…” he muttered in complete disbelief, falling to his knees, his katana sliding trough his opened palm as he simply stared at nothing into the horizon. How is this possible? He asked himself. He remembered how he died, the memory of his battle with Binshentsu was still fresh as if it happened earlier today, so was the memory of the great field of white roses and the woman in the white dress with the blood stained hands. He was supposed to be DEAD ! Yet here he is…feeling the cold of wind of dusk as a storm was slowly approaching, the slight aches in his joints from the stiffness of body were all to real, it was all….true. Sairasu rose his gaze once again to the sky placing his palms over his face as he simply started to laugh manically while shouting “What in the fuck is happening to me?!”

After a few solid minutes of getting to grips with the situation, Sairasu grabbed his katana, stood up, proceeded to walk back to where his former grave was, walking past the severed and bloody limbs of his would-be robbers, picked the scabbard from the ground and sheathed Meiyaku in it. He took a deep breath doing his best to calm his nerves and his still fumbled mind. He has absolutely no idea what his happening to him…yet…wait a moment? He recalled…what was that one grave-robber saying as he unsheathed his katana? “Blood Plagued…” he muttered under his breath. Maybe that is a clue to what is currently happening to him. With renewed resolve, Sairasu walked eagerly out of the small grove, leaving the opened make-shift grave and the bloody corpses behind. He still had no clue about anything that was happening yet for the moment, his best bet was to reach the nearest populated settlement and find out as much as he could about this Blood Plague.

Strangeland | Legends Never Die

Sairasu

Name
Murasame Sairasu

Epithet
Sairasu of the East ; Wanderer Sairasu ; The Ronin Vagabond ; Sairasu the Indomitable

Age
Unknown, presumably late 30s

Sex
Male

Date of Birth
21st August

Legends Slain
he Skulking Beast ; Musahashi the Green-Blade ; Smiling Charles ; The Blackwall Company ; The Sisters of Carnage ; Suiryuu the Water God

Slain By
Binshentsu the Grey

Appearance

Image

1.87m tall, light colored skin now with a slight grey-ish tint after his resurrection. Slender yet well toned body deceiving his strength, sharp facial features. Long, jet-black hair of which the back portion is tied in a messy ponytail. A light stubble decorates his jaw-line and chin. A small scar is visible just under his left eye which is kept closed at all times indicating that it is lost, his right, functioning eye displays a pale gold colored iris.

Personality
During his life, Sairasu was known for his sarcastic remarks and light-hearted demeanor, prone to making jests more often than not, these jests turned to mockery when facing opponents which only added to the cocky image he had painted for himself. However, this attitude vanishes whenever he faces a worthy opponent, his jests turning silent, his grin replaced by a frown and his gaze piercing his opponent while his very presence emanates killing intent. After his resurrection, he has come to discover that the later is starting to be more common than usual.

Lore
Not much is known about Sairasu’s childhood, according to him it is best left buried deep under the sands of the past. His story begins only at the age of 17, when he and Binshentsu, his closest friend, had left their homeland from the distant East to wander the world in search for glorious battle and mighty opponents. For a time, they traveled together, enjoying the ‘privileges’ of being a pair of sellswords, living from one odd-job to the next, slaying foes left and right be them man or beast. However they soon discovered that each must walk their own path, Binshentsu accepted the proposal of joining a mercenary company and traveling with them, the same invitation extended to Sairasu but he refused, continuing to wander the world by himself. Alone, Sairasu made a name of himself as a wanderer of great skill, always searching for challenges with the most impossible odds and succeeding. At the age of 21, he slew the Skulking Beast whose hide is said to be impervious to any man-made blade. About 2 years later after a rather insulting jape, he found himself engaged in a duel with Musahashi the Green-Blade, a warrior of legend from his homeland, needless to say that legend ended that day. A few years later, an apparent friendly completion turned bloody and deadly, in which the revolutionary warfare inventions of Smiling Charles proved no match against Sairasu’s skills. After that victory, the legend of the Ronin Vagabond spread across the lands and rumors of great forces drew him to Astoria where he sought out the infamous Blackwall Company of mercenaries. After singlehandedly slaying the whole company, he learned from interrogating one of his foes of the existence of an ancient dragon of immense power which the locals called a ‘Water God’, this piqued his interest and Sairasu was off in search for more information. The Sisters of Carnage were rumored to have the power of clairvoyance which they used to make themselves nigh-on invincible, yet ‘nearly invincible’ did not mean ‘impossible to kill’ as Sairasu proved by slaying one, then extracting relevant information about the dragon he sought from the other before killing her as well. The battle with Suiryuu the Water God, proved the hardest, none of his former opponents could even come close to the formidable power of this Dragon. However, against all odds, Sairasu managed to slay the beast with the last of his strength and a stroke of luck. After the battle, Sairasu’s legend was well known across the land, which only brought the attention of someone from his past. After many long years, he was reunited with his friend Binshentsu yet he was vastly changed. Instead of warm greetings and a joyous reunion, Sairasu only encountered cold steel and battle. He couldn’t explain why yet his old friend was hell-bent on claiming his life, which in the end was exactly what happened. The last thing Sairasu recalls was Binshentsu cleaning his blade of blood as the world darken around him….and now, he finds himself awake again….

Equipment
His armor is made of an exotic design from his homeland, crafted in such a way as to offer good protection yet not restrict mobility, in the meantime he had also reinforced it with the pelt of the Skulking Beast which is said to be as strong as the scales of dragons.

His most prized possession is his weapon, Meiyaku, a katana with a longer than average blade said to be forged in ancient times by a powerful entity. The legend says that this entity placed a portion of its own spirit within the weapon to continue living through it and a warrior strong enough could call upon its power

Image

Techniques/Spells

Kin-Kou Form – A stance and combat form relying on a fine balance of strength and speed. Adopting this form, Sairasu can fight on par with even the most skilled of foes while still holding his guard up, prepared for any counter-attack and rarely caught off-guard.

Fukutsu Form – A defensive variant of the Kin-Kou Form, a stance and combat form relying on either the user’s strength to deflect and resist incoming attacks or the user’s speed and mobility in dodging stronger attacks altogether. Sairasu usually adopts this stance to endure a battle and patiently wait for an opening on his opponent which will be swiftly met with a devastating counter-attack.

Hakai Form – A highly offensive variant of the Kin-Kou Form, a stance and combat form relying entirely on the user’s speed to rain down uncountable blows and attacks, fluidly strung together in a long chain of quick strikes. Sairasu would adopt this form when catching his opponent in a tight spot, his surreal speed leave almost no opportunity for attack.

Strangeland | Legends Never Die

Hello, if there are still places available, I would be interested in participating.

CS :

Sairasu

Name
Murasame Sairasu

Epithet
Sairasu of the East ; Wanderer Sairasu ; The Ronin Vagabond ; Sairasu the Indomitable

Age
Unknown, presumably late 30s

Sex
Male

Date of Birth
21st August

Legends Slain
he Skulking Beast ; Musahashi the Green-Blade ; Smiling Charles ; The Blackwall Company ; The Sisters of Carnage ; Suiryuu the Water God

Slain By
Binshentsu the Grey

Appearance

Image

1.87m tall, light colored skin now with a slight grey-ish tint after his resurrection. Slender yet well toned body deceiving his strength, sharp facial features. Long, jet-black hair of which the back portion is tied in a messy ponytail. A light stubble decorates his jaw-line and chin. A small scar is visible just under his left eye which is kept closed at all times indicating that it is lost, his right, functioning eye displays a pale gold colored iris.

Personality
During his life, Sairasu was known for his sarcastic remarks and light-hearted demeanor, prone to making jests more often than not, these jests turned to mockery when facing opponents which only added to the cocky image he had painted for himself. However, this attitude vanishes whenever he faces a worthy opponent, his jests turning silent, his grin replaced by a frown and his gaze piercing his opponent while his very presence emanates killing intent. After his resurrection, he has come to discover that the later is starting to be more common than usual.

Lore
Not much is known about Sairasu’s childhood, according to him it is best left buried deep under the sands of the past. His story begins only at the age of 17, when he and Binshentsu, his closest friend, had left their homeland from the distant East to wander the world in search for glorious battle and mighty opponents. For a time, they traveled together, enjoying the ‘privileges’ of being a pair of sellswords, living from one odd-job to the next, slaying foes left and right be them man or beast. However they soon discovered that each must walk their own path, Binshentsu accepted the proposal of joining a mercenary company and traveling with them, the same invitation extended to Sairasu but he refused, continuing to wander the world by himself. Alone, Sairasu made a name of himself as a wanderer of great skill, always searching for challenges with the most impossible odds and succeeding. At the age of 21, he slew the Skulking Beast whose hide is said to be impervious to any man-made blade. About 2 years later after a rather insulting jape, he found himself engaged in a duel with Musahashi the Green-Blade, a warrior of legend from his homeland, needless to say that legend ended that day. A few years later, an apparent friendly completion turned bloody and deadly, in which the revolutionary warfare inventions of Smiling Charles proved no match against Sairasu’s skills. After that victory, the legend of the Ronin Vagabond spread across the lands and rumors of great forces drew him to Astoria where he sought out the infamous Blackwall Company of mercenaries. After singlehandedly slaying the whole company, he learned from interrogating one of his foes of the existence of an ancient dragon of immense power which the locals called a ‘Water God’, this piqued his interest and Sairasu was off in search for more information. The Sisters of Carnage were rumored to have the power of clairvoyance which they used to make themselves nigh-on invincible, yet ‘nearly invincible’ did not mean ‘impossible to kill’ as Sairasu proved by slaying one, then extracting relevant information about the dragon he sought from the other before killing her as well. The battle with Suiryuu the Water God, proved the hardest, none of his former opponents could even come close to the formidable power of this Dragon. However, against all odds, Sairasu managed to slay the beast with the last of his strength and a stroke of luck. After the battle, Sairasu’s legend was well known across the land, which only brought the attention of someone from his past. After many long years, he was reunited with his friend Binshentsu yet he was vastly changed. Instead of warm greetings and a joyous reunion, Sairasu only encountered cold steel and battle. He couldn’t explain why yet his old friend was hell-bent on claiming his life, which in the end was exactly what happened. The last thing Sairasu recalls was Binshentsu cleaning his blade of blood as the world darken around him….and now, he finds himself awake again….

Equipment
His armor is made of an exotic design from his homeland, crafted in such a way as to offer good protection yet not restrict mobility, in the meantime he had also reinforced it with the pelt of the Skulking Beast which is said to be as strong as the scales of dragons.

His most prized possession is his weapon, Meiyaku, a katana with a longer than average blade said to be forged in ancient times by a powerful entity. The legend says that this entity placed a portion of its own spirit within the weapon to continue living through it and a warrior strong enough could call upon its power

Image

Techniques/Spells

Kin-Kou Form – A stance and combat form relying on a fine balance of strength and speed. Adopting this form, Sairasu can fight on par with even the most skilled of foes while still holding his guard up, prepared for any counter-attack and rarely caught off-guard.

Fukutsu Form – A defensive variant of the Kin-Kou Form, a stance and combat form relying on either the user’s strength to deflect and resist incoming attacks or the user’s speed and mobility in dodging stronger attacks altogether. Sairasu usually adopts this stance to endure a battle and patiently wait for an opening on his opponent which will be swiftly met with a devastating counter-attack.

Hakai Form – A highly offensive variant of the Kin-Kou Form, a stance and combat form relying entirely on the user’s speed to rain down uncountable blows and attacks, fluidly strung together in a long chain of quick strikes. Sairasu would adopt this form when catching his opponent in a tight spot, his surreal speed leave almost no opportunity for attack.

Darkest of Times {A Darkest Dungeon Themed RP}

one...last...bump

Darkest of Times {A Darkest Dungeon Themed RP}

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Darkest of Times {A Darkest Dungeon Themed RP}

bump for interest

Darkest of Times {A Darkest Dungeon Themed RP}

Name
Reynald Vox

Age
29

Gender
Male

Appearance

1,82m tall. Mid length dark brown hair parted slightly off the center. A light stubble, testimony to a number of sleepless nights along with the bags around his jet black eyes and a slight gaunt of his cheeks. Sharp facial features. A slim, light scar just under his right eye reaching midway down his cheek.

Personality
Loyal and dedicated to his beliefs, Reynald is the sort some would describe as a “warrior of faith”, ready and eager to do God’s work spreading the light across the world. His deep beliefs have, however, made him rather close-minded, feeling a hint of discomfort in the back of his mind when having to meddle with the unfaithful. While he personally would consider such individuals an affront, he has learned to keep his thoughts to himself, so long as they ultimately assist in the greater goal he is willing to overlook such slights in an ‘ends excuse the means’ sort of way. In spite of any shortcomings, he is a man of honor, giving respect where its due and lending a helping hand where is needed. Most of the time he is quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself and only speaking when he has something to say. His sense of humor is quite low, actually finding it distasteful when overhearing other people joke about certain subjects, even insulting to the point of anger should they make japes about his beliefs.

Class
Crusader

Gear
A Crusader’s armor, consisting of strong plate-mail with a dark blue, worn surcoat over it. Light platings on the shoulders, strong reinforced leather gloves and boots, black leather trousers and a solid closed helmet. Attached to his belt is a small traveling pack where he keeps his scrolls of the holy scriptures up handy.

Armor Reference

A standard issue claymore which he wields with both hands.

Weapon Reference

A few scrolls of the holy scriptures which he can use to wield the holy magic taught to all Crusaders.

Proficiency
Reynald is a warrior, fighting his foes head on with sword in hand. His skill and strength only matched by his devotion to God. Other than sheer combat prowess, Reynald can also make use of a bit of magic, with the holy scriptures he keeps at all time, to heal fresh wounds, bolster his own strength and deliver holy justice upon the wicked and unholy.

Traits
Unwavering – Reynald’s deep faith in the Almighty keeps him strong and fighting even in the darkest of situations.

Flaws
God Fearing – Reynald has rejected the simple and sinful pleasures of the world, finding solace only in prayer and contemplation.
Blind Faith – Reynald will look down upon those who do not accept God in their hearts and will refrain from interacting with the sinful when possible.

Emotional Response
When the situation is most dire and all hope seems to fade, Reynald is convinced that this must be a punishment and test from God, thus he will become all the more determined to continue fighting even if a wiser man would flee. Furthermore he will expect no less from his comrades and thus he will be prone to becoming more abusive of them, especially the non-believers whose unfaithfulness he may ultimately blame for their predicament.

Excerpt
“Sometimes I feel as if God has sent Father Esteban on this world with the sole purpose of testing me. First he denies me to accompany our brothers and sisters on their pilgrimage across the countryside to bring Light to the wicked, then he commands me to play caretaker to the new recruits during their instruction and now he denies my request to stand in tonight’s vigil. I understand why he may think less of me, simply because I have chosen this path at a younger age than most, but I am every bit as capable as any of my brothers, if not better ! But no, such thoughts have no place in the mind of a warrior of God. Whatever the Almighty may have planned for me, I must trust in His design.”

.....

“Today Father Esteban has asked me and a few of my brothers to wait for his arrival just outside of the abbey rather than participate on tonight’s prayers. What could be so important that we have to skip our communion with God?”

.....

“Today, is a glorious day. The vile Necromancer plaguing the countryside has fallen to my blade and the Holy Light of God ! Yet instead of celebrating we must mourn our fallen brothers, including Father Esteban. May God rest their souls and welcome them in His embrace. “

.....

“Its been years since a single Undead has been seen, yet there is no shortage of the wicked prowling on the innocent. The Order has become thinned lately… Father Esteban may have been strict and sometimes one could question his judgments, yet he kept the Order true and stable. I know it is unbecoming to think so, but Father Jaston’s guidance may very well be what has brought the Order in such a state. May God forgive my brashness, but something must be done! “

.....

“A quiet day today…too quiet. I’ve counted half a dozen youths in the training ground this morning. I can’t recall when was the last time the Order had so few new recruits. What has happened? Did the people’s faith waver? Do they think that since the vile shadow, that has been haunting their sleepless nights, has been vanquished that the Order is no longer needed? They are wrong ! Don’t they know that God’s work is never done? Not until all corners of the world sing His praises and all the wicked and defiled have been cast back into the void from whence they came ! “

.....

“We received a call for help today. It seems the heir of a distant land has returned after his ancestor brought ruin and evil upon it and now is enlisting the aid of whomever is willing in aiding to vanquishing this evil. This must be a sign ! A sign from God Himself, telling me where to go and where I am needed. Father Jatson seemed more interested in the potential reward promised, rather disgraceful for a servant of the Light but at very least he didn’t object to myself and a few of my brothers volunteering to heed the call. We pack our bags tonight and will travel at first light. May God guide our path”

.....

“The Weaverstar Estate, it is called. A ruin of a land, quite the dramatic change in the last few years from what it once was as I understand it, if some of the locals can be trusted. My brothers and I were not the only ones to answer the call it seems, though I question both the motives and the character of most of these….mercenaries. Regardless, if they can ultimately help in fulfilling God’s wish, even without the exact intent, it may be all for the better. We have yet to meet with the lord in person, only with the caretaker who gave us nothing more than a brief welcome and a vague idea of what we will possibly be confronting. My brothers are a little nervous and I admit, even I am. Whatever this evil we are confronting is, it must command great strength if it reduced a once proud land and noble house to such…ruin. In the end we will prevail though. We are the warriors of God ! With His guidance by our side, we cannot fail !”

.....

“A week has passed since we first arrived here and it feels like we haven’t managed to make any progress in cleansing this land. The evil here has a strong grip, I have fought more vile Undead in this one week here than in all my years at the abbey ! I don’t know what this lord’s ancestor did to bring his home in such a state, but it must have been something of the vilest of kinds. How else could something so dire happen?”

.....

“Another group of hired-swords have been declared fallen. If this keeps up it won’t be long until only my brothers and I are all that’s left…”

.....

“Brother Nikko has succumbed to his disease. May God welcome his soul in His embrace.”

.....

“I can’t believe what is happening ! What on Earth are we fighting against ?! It feels like the more we slay the stronger they become ! We have been battling against the wicked and corrupt for nearly a month now, day and night with no hint to them wavering. When will it end ?! “

.....

“I… I am alone now. I had a bad feeling since I woke up yesterday and was waiting for the caretaker to tells us today’s assignment. It sounded simple enough, explore the underground tunnels and map it out for further expeditions, nothing we haven’t done before. We thought we were ready, we thought we were well prepared for anything…but we were wrong ! Sister Tharta sacrificed herself so Brother Eugene and myself would escape…we made it, barely. And now…. I woke up this morning to find that Brother Eugene had lost himself to despair. It seemed he would rather take his own life, an offense to God, than venture in the dark depths bellow once again. May God grant them rest and forgive them for all their transgressions in life. And may He grant me strength necessary to push on…”

.....

“It looks like another group of would-be adventurers have heard the need for aid from here. Let’s hope they are well prepared for the horrors they are about to face..if one can ever be.”

Darkest of Times {A Darkest Dungeon Themed RP}

DARKEST OF TIMES

a 'Darkest Dungeon' themed RP

INTRODUCTION

Those of you who are unfamiliar with the game “Darkest Dungeon” by Red Hook Games, I highly recommend you check it out, now in Early Access on Steam.

Note: You don’t NEED to be familiar with the game to participate in the RP. Whether you are a veteran or have never heard of Darkest Dungeon, all are welcome.

The Plot

It’s been nearly 2 months since the heir of the land has returned to claim what is his and started this campaign to purge the evil inflicted upon the land by the blind and mad ambitions of his ancestor. In this time, word has spread of his call for help, promises of bountiful rewards, great glories and a sense of duty have attracted many brave men and women ready to stand against the evil that plague this once proud and illustrious estate. In time, the small hamlet that serves as a base of operation for all these would-be heroes, has slowly seen activity restored with uneasy trading routes brining in traders with ample supplies at profitable prices, people who once owned a respectable establishment returning in hopes of brining their broken business back on its feet and sturdy work-force willing to help bring the estate to its once former glory brick by brick….all for a price, of course. Purging the evil that plagues this land is no easy task in any way, many have died or simply fled with terror in their hearts, until only very few remained, their spirit scared by the horrors they have witnessed and somehow survived, still pressing on to this maddening task for one reason or another. The lord himself seldom if ever shows himself to the people in his service, staying behind the locked doors of a modest building which once served as a guest house back in the days of yore, now taking the place of the venerable mansion that stood proudly atop the moor. The caretaker and a personal servant being the only ones allowed inside, one reporting the progress of the campaign, fetching new instructions and the details to new assignments which he will later pass along to those who came here seeking fortune and glory, while the other bring the lord his meals and takes care of more domestic matters. It’s been nearly 2 months and a bit of progress has been made, yet evil that plagues this land still has a tight grip upon it and almost all who were willing to venture out and confront it have either perished or gone mad, few still remaining. Today, the stagecoach has returned after a long expedition, brining in fresh new blood who have enlisted themselves to this task. Whether it be for fortune, glory or other reasons, they will soon be fighting for their survival and sanity as they thread through the blackened corridors and battle through the nightmarish creatures that lurk deep within….the Darkest Dungeon.

Rules

The standard High-Casual rules apply.

• Be respectful, be understanding
• Have decent grammar
• Have a decent post size + rate
• Gore and profanity is present but to be kept under reasonable control
• No sudden vanishing without a heads-up
• Be creative and have fun :)

General Information

You are one of those who have heard the call for help from Weaverstar Estate and its returned lord, Sylas Weaverstar, deciding to enlist along with others to help fight against the evil that has plagued the once noble land. Your reasons for doing this are your own, yet you are not alone and soon enough you will have to rely on these strangers to fight by your side and ensure survival as well as sanity of mind.

This is a dungeon-crawler style RP, where our heroes will be wandering through dark corridors in search for both treasures as well as the source of the darkness that grips and corrupts the land. However, our heroes are not the stalwart and unshakeable sort from High-Fantasy, they more human and are affected both physically and psychologically by the horrors they face. Team-work is key, for a lone adventurer will soon find himself in an early grave after being overrun by what lurks deep beneath.

Terrifying creatures, dark halls and rooms with but a flickering torch guiding the way, limited supplies and the different quirks and flaws of each character, all will have an impact on our party and the odds of success for each expedition.

There is no particular order of posts yet I will assume all of you will be understandable enough not to spam 3+ posts while other barely got one through. My posts will consist in both a ‘regular’ post of my character as well as the environment and narration of the story which will react to your decisions.

When dealing with battle, rather than ‘godmodding’, describe your character’s actions, his intentions and the expected outcome.
Example : “Reynald rushes forward, swinging his mighty blade at the foul creature and hacking it in two.” Vs. “Reynald rushes forward, with a tight grip on his sword he raises the blade up taking a swing at the foul creature, aiming to hack it in two.”

See the diference?

Think of it like playing a Dungeons & Dragons game, where every outcome to a certain action is determined by the roll of the dice, just in this case I as the GM will play the role of the dice.

Warning : Expect things to go pretty badly for everyone ;)

Each character is unique from the other, each has its own personality and just like in real life, you are not always guaranteed to get along with everyone else. The traits and quirks of your character will have an impact upon their relationship with other characters, events that may happen and the environment itself. An alcoholic warrior would most likely be with a bottle in hand when wanting to relief some of the stress rather than trying to find contemplation in prayer, he may also not see eye to eye with another character who has sworn off liquor for whatever reason. Events and experiences may also alter your character’s personality, adding new quirks, changing existing or both. A long night of unanswered prayers may change the character’s religious beliefs ; a confrontation gone bad with an Undead may have made the character more fearful of their kind, thus reducing his prowess against them in the future ; a night of revelry at the tavern may have made a character addicted to drinks; I encourage you to be as creative as you can :)

Note on “Emotional Response” : When the stress of the task becomes to much and your character reaches their breaking point, they may react strongly to the situation. An ‘emotional response’ will affect both the character’s behavior to some degree as well as those around him. A character crippled with fear and terror may occasionally freeze in combat from the sheer horror that they confront and their frantic babbling may affect the rest of their party, for example. Again, be as creative as you will.

Classes

The Crusader

"Battle-hardened and stalwart, the Crusader has held the front lines in a hundred holy wars. He either attacks foes head-on with righteous fury, or embraces a melee support role by leveraging his powerful defensive buffs & off-heals. The Crusader wears heavy plate mail and wields a longsword. While affording him excellent protection and damage, his armor restricts movement, and his sword cannot be swung effectively in the back ranks"

The Vestal

"The warrior nun channels her zeal for battle into healing abilities, holy judgements and dazzling explosions of light. A strong backbone to any party, the Vestal can also hold her own on the front line with a powerful mace bash and close-quarters condemnations. Blessed plate-mail encases the Vestal as she delivers terrible violence and healing comfort in equal measure. A mace in one hand, a holy book in another - a study in contrasts, and all the more effective for it!"

The Highwayman

"A rogue, a thug and a thief, the Highwayman has honed his skills with dirk and flintlock to devastating effect. Whether at range or in a melee, he is equally effective at dispatching his foes. Be it a grapeshot area-of-effect, or single target bleed, the Highwayman's skills focus solely on dealing damage in a variety of ways. The Highwayman's reinforced overcoat will dull a knife-strike, but he relies more on evasion than damage mitigation. His flintlock and short-sword afford him great versatility; he is never out of position or caught unawares"

The Bounty Hunter

"A brutally efficient single-target executioner and crowd control specialist. For the Bounty Hunter, planning is key - mark targets for bonus damage or look for opportunties to capitalize on a stunned foe. He can also wreak havoc on an enemy party's order using his grappling hook, flashbangs and powerful uppercut. The Bounty Hunter favors a hand-axe and grappling hook, a pairing that allows him to ensnare and execute his quarry with proffesional efficiency. His tough leather and scale armor grants decent protection, without sacrificing mobility"

The Grave Robber

"The Grave Robber is a versatile and nimble combatant, moving back and forth through the ranks with ease. She strikes without warning and retreats to the shadows, continuing her assault at range. If her throwing daggers and poison darts aren't getting the job done, she can return to the melee, buffed and slinging her pickaxe! A light coat is all the Grave Robber will wear, she favours mobility and dexterity over protection. Concealed within her garment are razor sharp throwing daggers, and buckled to her back - a pickaxe and shovel"

The Hellion

"Wild, unpredictable, and utterly ruthless, the Hellion thrills to the spilling of blood! Her massive glaive affords her impressive reach in combat, while its razor sharp edge leaves lasting wounds on enemies. Certain skills leave her exhausted, however, and she may occasionally need to take a turn to recharge her adrenaline before entering the fray once again. Crude leather and furs may offer little protection, but the Hellion lives to bear the scars of battle proudly. Her priority is wreacking havoc with her massive glaive and bathing in the blood of her adversaries"

The Jester

"Combat is a power-ballad - a slow build up, and a grand finale! On offense, the Jester leaps to and fro in a bloody cacophony, positioning himself for a glorious end in the front ranks! Alternatively, he can hang back, delivering chilling melodies and unsettling riffs that terrorize his foes, and give strength to his allies. Clad only in mildewed cloth, the Jester makes a mockery of battle. Only a foul would underestimate the vicious bloodletting power of his sharpened sickle, or the discordant throng of his lute"

The Leper

"A ruined man, a warrior, and a poet. The Leper is most effective when given a turn to focus himself before raising his massive blade. When he swings, it is all or nothing - crushing blows and massive damage or the empty whistling of a glancing blow. He is entirely self-sufficient, drawing strength from his life of trauma, and able to channel it into heals, protection, or unrelenting fury. Heavy and restricting, the Leper's bronzed curiass can absorb all manner of punishing blows. His massive sword is slow to swing, but delivers crushing damage to anyone caught in its unstoppable arc"

The Occultist

"A lifetime of scholarly inquest into ancient and forbidden lore has opened the Occultist's mind to the powers of the void. Debilitating curses and maddeningly impossible support skills are his specialty. The void, however, is an unpredictable power, and consequently skills' effectiveness can vary dramatically, and usually come at a cost of light, or stress. Scholarly robes, better suited to the library than the harsh realities of adventuring, are all the Occultist has brought with him. His rituals and chants require deft movements of hand and finger, so better he be unencumbered that he may channel the power of his morbid fetish: the polished skull of a dead man"

The Plague Doctor

"A doctor, researcher and alchemist who prefers to hang back, eating away at her foes with stacking damage-over-time abilties like toxic clouds & plague-filled grenades. She is equally effective in a support role, blinding and confusing foes while enhancing a party's survival with damage-increasing tonics, and remedies for bleed and blight effects. The Plague Doctor wears only light cloth - intent on remaining as far from melee combat as possible. From a distance she lobs toxic satchels that can blind, disorient and eat away at her foes"

NOTE : Feel free to modify and make your own twist of these available classes.

Character Sheet

Name
The name and/or nickname of your character

Age
Self explanatory . No younger than 23, please.

Gender
Self explanatory

Appearance
Picture or description are good, both are awesome

Personality
Self explanatory

Class
Refer to the “Classes” section

Gear
Describe the equipment and items that your character has upon their person at all time. You may use images if you like. Note – ‘miscellaneous’ items such as bandages, food, keys, etc. are to be excluded unless they are class related, such as a Bounty Hunter’s flash-bangs for example

Proficiency
Describe your character’s abilities, what he is good at in combat.

Traits
List the positive traits and quirks of your character and how they may affect themselves and/or other people. No more than 2, no less than 1

Flaws
List the negative traits and quirks of your character and how they may affect themselves and/or other people. One more than the positive traits.

Emotional Response
When the stress becomes too much and your character is reaching their breaking point, what will most likely be their emotional response and how will this affect those around?

Excerpt
This serves as a form of back-story for your character. Instead of simply explaining your character’s past, consider this as something like pages from a journal, where we get to see a glimpse of your character’s past from their own point of view. Be sure to also include how they heard of this place and why they enlisted. This can be however long or short as you wish.

If you have any questions, feel free to address them, no matter how small or complex. Ask and I will answer as best I can.

Roster

Reynald Vox {Zamokra41}

[Zamokra41] - Avalon Empire - [MachineSoul]

Day 1

Reports

Treasury

The reports received last night indicate that the current treasury amounts to...

Territories

The reports received last night indicate that the number of loyal provinces amount to...

Esteem

Morale

Report End

The rays of the rising sun peeked through the long windows of the Throne Room, merely glancing inside as the Fortress flew through a dense patch of clouds. The Imperial Guard were standing stoic next to the decorated columns, their armor glistening slightly as the thin rays passed them slowly, standing at attention and saluting Aleko as he approached the center of the room. The large chamber was still and silent, save for the slight echoes of the Halfling’s footsteps across the marble floor before he reached the carpet and the occasional rustling of the guard’s armor as they adjusted their stance. The stillness of the room was interrupted by the large gates of its front entrance opening giving way to the flowing white robes and sharp tapping of the gnarled staff on the floor as the newcomer approached Aleko. Cyrus bowed his head once he was close to the young Emperor “Good morning, sire.” His gray eyes scanned over Aleko and a small smile appeared on his lips “Eager to take your rightful place early I see. Tis’ good to see your dedication.” The Imperial Wizard proceeded to place his free hand on the staff, leaning on it which only accentuated his hunched posture. “The servants told me that you requested a number of documents and reports regarding our general situation. That and judging by your appearance, if you would allow me, I assume you didn’t get much sleep.” Cyrus paused, closing his eyes for a brief moment before continuing “Its is good to see you are dutiful and take your responsibilities serious, sire, but if you would allow me an early advice, you should take care of yourself properly. On that notice, would you like to join me for breakfast? “

After a bit, Aleko and Cyrus reached the Dining Hall where one could notice that a great number of the Fortress’ staff were breaking their fast. Only a few of the faces were familiar, such as the generals Rougan and Pepper apparently enjoying a rich breakfast what appears to be a pleasant conversation. Another person Aleko would recognize would be the Lizardman T’chun, rushing through the exit carrying a plate of cooked vegetables, no doubt hurrying to get back to his work. Right at the bar, one couldn’t help but notice the dark and lightly plated robes of Markov, sticking out like a sore thumb. One wouldn’t normally expect any Undead to be in the Dining Hall for obvious reasons, yet there was the general himself, apparently nursing a tall glass of sparkling white wine which seems untouched. The Imperial Wizard offers Aleko a seat at a vacant table and shortly after a servant with a small note approaches and gives both of them a proper bow along with morning greetings and asked what they would like for breakfast this morning. While waiting for their food to come, Cyrus briefly glanced behind Aleko, apparently a little further away at a more crowded table were some off-duty guards having a card game, Bojor Ironfist, Marcus Gwynpath and Eamon Weissnout were among the players and judging by their facial expressions, the Anthro envoy was winning. “I can imagine this is all very different from your former life. Living as an officer of a militia from a small provincial town and then virtually over-night out-ranking virtually everyone.” Cyrus almost immediately drooped his gaze after finishing that sentence as if he had said something rude “My pardon for being improperly personal, sire. I only wish to ensure that you are adjusting to your new life without much trouble. “

After a bit, Aleko and Cyrus found themselves chatting about the information that the Halfling gathered last night, the different troops available, the moral and economical state of the Empire and the provinces under their control. By the time their food arrived, Cyrus told him a bit about the Emperors of the past, a subject which Aleko seemed familiar whit much to the Imperial Wizard’s delight. Oddly enough, when wanting to talk about the Halfling’s father, Cyrus was visibly hesitant, telling him that they may speak more in detail about that some other day. The Wizard then inquired something “Sire, if I may ask, have you formed any opinions about the generals and envoys? They are important and their aid necessary for our campaign to succeed, yet I would like to know your thoughts about them if you will permit, ofcourse.” After the conversation and after they both finished their breakfast, Cyrus asked Aleko to accompany him for a little more, leading the Halfling out of the Dinning Hall and towards the Map Room. On their way, they passed by many people, all seemingly heading in the opposite direction and bowing their heads on the way while passing the Emperor and the Wizard. The Map Room was empty this time, dimly lit by the lamps and lampposts, the stone wrought eyes of the people on the carved walls seem to eerily follow the Emperor and Wizard’s movements as they walked to the center of the room. Aleko stopped at the center, examining the room only now noticing the great carving of the Avalon Empire Crest on the ceiling, surrounded by the carving of 4 small stone dragons holding the lamps in their mouths. Cyrus in the meantime appeared to retrieve a an elongated box from under the large wall carving of the map witch gave the room its name. The box was made of dark cherry wood and decorated with gold-coated hinges as well as a small lock and a crest of the Empire on its lid.

“Your…coronation..” Hesitation was practically tangible when Cyrus said the word “.. will begin soon, sire. Let us go to the Throne Room now.” And with that, the two were once again walking through the hallway heading to the large room where they first met today. Once the large double doors of the Throne Room were in sight, one could notice that there were more Imperial Guards than usual on each side of the hallway leading to the room, each of them standing at attention and holding a salute as Aleko passed them by, two of the guards saluted and then proceeded to open the large doors for them, revealing a radically different room from what Aleko found himself earlier this morning. The Fortress rose above the clouds and as such the golden rays of the sun bathed the Throne Room, and the guests, in grossly incandescent luminosity. The once empty room was now filled with people, practically elbow to elbow, some were familiar faces, like the envoys, the generals and a few others yet most were like the people who occupied the Dining Hall, servants, guards and some workers, all here to attend the would-be-coronation of their new emperor. The noise of chatter which could be heard from just outside the room now fell silent as the people all turned their gazes to face Aleko and in a matter of mere moments they stepped aside, clearing a path through the crowd leading to the vacant throne. A large number of gazes were set upon the Halfing, some welcoming, others less so yet all had one thing in common, they were eager to see what their new emperor could accomplish. Cyrus gave a smile and an approving nod when Aleko turned his gaze to him as if hoping the Wizard would give him some answer and they proceeded to walk towards the throne where it would seem Scribe was waiting next to it , Aleko leading and Cyrus following closely holding on to the box he was still carrying.

Theme 1:54 – 4:07

When they were just in front of the throne, the Halfing and the Wizard turned to face the crowd. All eyes were upon them, upon Aleko more than anyone. Scribe gave the future emperor a deep bow and then stood at attention, eagerly waiting to scribble away at the scroll he was holding. Cyrus cleared his throat and then addressed the crowd.

“People, comrades, friends. Today marks the end. The end of our search, the end of our doubts, the end of our disbelief. Today, we proved that there is still hope ! Hope that an age of peace and prosperity will come, an age like it was so many generations ago when our Empire was formed, an age when all our people would come together as one. This war has taken a great toll on us all and I am afraid it is far from over…However… Today is when we stop fighting to survive, to flee, to be afraid. Today, we start fighting back. Today we begin our campaign against those misguided ,who would throw our home back in the Pre-Unity ages. The death of our late emperor and his family marked the beginning of a dark time ahead for us all, yet we are here to tell all that there is still hope ! That the noble bloodline of our emperors who ruled Avalon for the very beginning has yet to run dry ! In our darkest hour, this young man presented himself like a lighthouse in the midst of a storm, a beacon of hope to guide us through, to channel our courage and strength, to shoulder the needs of the land and hear the call for justice ! All this without so much as a flinch !”

“My people, my comrades, my friends… I present to you, Aleko Sendrakon, first of his name, last of the Sendrakon bloodline and true emperor of the realm.”

Cyrus let go of his gnarled staff ,which started to float by itself nigh an inch off the ground and waiting patiently behind its owner, as he proceeded to open the wooden box and presenting Aleko with its contents. Inside the box was a scepter, about as long as Aleko’s forearm, made of solid gold and glistening in the sunlight. The rod was polished felt steady on grip, the head was housing a rather rough and edgy pale sapphire, held in place by the top decoration wrought in the shape of a pair of dragons circling the gemstone. “This, sire…” The Wizard said as Aleko reached to take the scepter “..is the Scepter of Sefnir, one of the few artifacts of the Ancient Times, a relic held and passed down the Imperial bloodline from Arkturious Sendrakon himself. All the Emperors of Avalon have held this scepter and now it is your turn.” The moment Aleko set his hand on the scepter, the pale sapphire at the top flashed, so briefly that perhaps no one other than the young Emperor, and maybe Cyrus, may have noticed. A strange sensation of familiarity could be felt, similar to how a blacksmith would feel when picking up his hammer or how a solider would feel when tightening his grip upon the handle of his weapon, so too did it feel when Aleko held the scepter in hand, examining it closely for a moment before turning his eyes to the crowd. The people were all apparently captivated in the moment. No one made a sound and all their attention was focused on Aleko. Voicing perhaps what everyone in the room may have been waiting for, Cyrus whispered aside to the newly ‘crowned’ Emperor “Sire, would you perhaps say a few words to your people?”

After the speech, the whole room was cheering. ‘Hail Emperor Aleko Sendrakon’ could be heard, along with ‘Glory to the New Avalon Empire’, the Imperial Wizard smiled proudly to Aleko and then gave him a formal bow. The celebration was short-lived however, after a few more cheers and the occasional toast in the new Emperor’s health, the Throne Room slowly started to empty until the only ones left were the Imperial Guards, the Imperial Wizard, the newly crowned Emperor and Scribe. Cyrus got hold of his staff, once again leaning heavily on it as he spoke “While this may quite the…informal coronation and technically you are Emperor in name only, I wish to be the first to congratulate you, sire. It is only a matter of time until you will win back the crown and this war will be over, I have great faith in you and know that you have my full support in everything.” The Wizard stretched his back, letting a few faint pops being heard before he leaned back on his staff “Speaking of which… It is time we all attend to our duties sire. No doubt the Generals and the Envoys have plenty of tasks which require your attention. I shall accompany you, should you have need for my advice.” Before they had the chance of walking away, the small Undead rushed to Aleko’s side and stood at attention, apparently Scribe also wanted to accompany the Emperor if only to record his deeds.

Thus, Aleko’s duties as the Emperor and new leader of the New Avalon Empire have begun.

The Map Room

---

The Generals were discussing and nearly arguing even before Aleko, Cyrus and Scribe made their entrance. Their attentions shifted to their new leader as he approached them in front of the large Map carving, the somewhat-dim lighting of the room alone would not be enough to get a proper look upon it, luckily enough, as Cyrus mentioned on their way here, the large map was enchanted with a bit of magic which was made apparent by the fact that the edges of the lands were glowing in different colorations representing their allegiance, blue for the Old Avalon Empire, red for the New, purple for the Stainless Empire and green for those neutral. The Generals were standing on each side of the map with the young Emperor and his followers directly facing it. “Congratulations, sire.” Duncan was the first to speak, his helmet cradled in his left arm akin to a child while giving Aleko a formal salute by holding his heels together, his back straight, forming a fist with his right hand and holding it across his chest over where his heart would be. The Human General obviously wanted to say more yet before he had the chance, the Dwarf General spoke up “Save ye’r adulation’ fo’ when it’ matters.” A few brief moments of silence passed in which Duncan and Bojor exchanged evil gazes “Whot? This ai’n tha’ time ta’ be celebratin’. In case ye’ all hav’ forgotn’ , we’re in deep shite an’ we need ta’ do somethin’ bout’ that. “ The Dwarf concluded which made Duncan sigh deeply and return his attention back to Aleko. “Pardons, sire. As always my colleague may lack tact, but he has a point.” The Human General then presented the large map to the Emperor “As you may be aware of, the situation if quite dire. Allister’s Old Empire holds the grand advantage, having the large majority of the land under his control while Brune Emeberland is focusing his efforts in the Human Kingdoms, particularly about half of Wolfcore and a hefty portion of Mystraven while steadily trying to spread to the other three.” The Elven General then stepped forward “However, while Emeberland himself is concentrating his efforts in the Human Kingdoms, his followers are spreading his influence among the other Races. The Dark Elves and Undead have little favor towards him, unsurprisingly, yet the Elves and Orcs sing a different tune and I fear that he may be starting to gain some significant support from the Dwarves. The Anthors, however, still seem reluctant, which is good news considering…” Pepper Bulkwyn then took over “Whatever support or resistance Emberland is getting, the Old Empire is still pretty much the winning horse right now, the majority of the lands from each Kingdom have sworn their allegiance to Allister. Again, the Human Kingdoms are their main backbone, yet the supporters from all the other Kingdoms outnumber both Emberlands and ours, but by different variations…” The Dwarf General took out a thick cigar from under his coat as he walked “Emberland an’ Allister are buttin’ heads agains’ eachother while we’re left with tha’ scraps an’ doin’ worse tha’n either o’ them.” He proceeds to light his cigar and take a quick smoke from it before continuing “Az’ I sai’d, we’re deep in tha’ shite an’ need ta’ do somethin’ bout’ it. An’fast.”

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Duncan turned his attention to the young Emperor, one hand still grasping at his helmet and the other behind his back “Sire, it is clear that we need…nay, MUST expand our holdings if we wish to have the slightest chance at this war. The fighting is already happening, whatever semblance of a treaty is left will soon vanish and the people of Avalon will know that the war was never over once the battles occur in their backyard. As for your secrecy, sooner rather than later it will be common knowledge that the last Sendrakon heir has emerged, therefore I say there is no point in wasting our efforts in trying to keep you hidden.” The old general clears his throat “My colleagues and I have gathered information regarding potential territorial expansions which we wish to relay to you for further orders.”The generals were now standing on each side of the large map carving, ready to inform Aleko on what they learned and hear what he decides to do with the information.

--Duncan Primelyt--

The Human General steps closer to the map and with a gesture of his hand the outlines shift and turn, changing what the map shows. Instead of the whole of Avalon, the map was now focused on the 5 Human Kingdoms. “As you can observe, sire…” Duncan was standing stoic, his voice clear and uncharacteristic for his age “…The Kingdoms of Lioncross, Wolfcore and Mystraven are, for the moment, out of our reach. For now, we should concentrate our efforts in securing the allegiance of Eagleblade and Winterpeak as much as we can. Once we have a considerable mass of territory on both we can begin making plans to expand to the other Kingdoms.” The General then makes another gesture with his free hand which zooms the map upon the regions of Eagleblade. “Eagleblade is often called the ‘Kingdom of Merchants’, for good reasons. Securing territories here will not only give us a good foothold but the profits through trade that the provinces provide will be most profitable. Particularly since Eagleblade has a potential connection to the sea, therefore I recommend we secure the allegiance of a province with a port-city.” Duncan approaches the map and circles with his finger a small province at the edge of the coastline “The province of Whealbee, currently under the banner of the Old Empire, was attacked a few days ago by Emberland’s forces, stationed at the nearby province of Treadsheim. Whealbee’s troops managed to repel the attack but their defenses suffered greatly and the fortress close to town is no position to resist a second assault. “ Duncan then circles another province no to far from the port-city “We could mobilize our forces from Falkheave to reach Whealbee within 3 or 4 days, capture the fortress with virtually no effort and then force the port-city to surrender to us, should they refuse we are in a strong position to take it by force though I hope it won’t be necessary.” Once Duncan finished his explanation, Markov Ashadde stepped in with a proposition “Duncan, if I may? Treadsheim is also in a weakened state since they lost most of their troops in that failed assault. What if instead of Whealbee we march upon them? I doubt there will be much of any resistance left and once Treadsheim is under our control, we stand in a stronger position to convince Whealbee to surrender.” The Human General placed his free hand on his chin, pondering yet not interrupting his colleague. “This way we could bring both Treadsheim and Whealbee under our control.” Markov finished and after a few moments of silence, Duncan nodded “Indeed, Treadsheim has no fortress of its own, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem to conquer it. However, I doubt they will simply surrender out of fear from Emberland so a fight is going to be inevitable even if it will be an easy one. My concern is this…” Duncan clears his throat and then traces lines on the map as he spoke “Our forces from Falkheave will need about a week to reach Treadsheim, lets assume the town will be ours within a single day, our troops will need one more day to get their bearings and then begin marching to Whealbee which they will need another 2 days to reach at best. I am worried that this may give them sufficient time to reinforce their defenses and would make both their surrender and defeat harder to achieve…” Duncan once again ponders for a few moments “..Although… There is a chance this idea of yours could work, Markov.” He spoke yet in a significantly softer tone, before he finally turned his gaze back at Aleko “The final decision is, ofcourse, yours, sire. What are your orders?”

--Marteen Leafdancer--

The Elven General steps forward, wasting no time and switching the view on the large map carving to display a small portion on the southern edge of the Elven Kingdom. “Sire, my homeland is one of the vastest and most resource-richest Kingdoms in the whole of Avalon. Every bit of territory we control from it is a strong step towards our victory in our campaign.” Marteen circles an allied province close to the borderline “Our troops stationed at Fion’ebrad report that a messenger came yesterday with interesting news. It appears that the province of Graw’aa, currently aligned to Emberland, wishes to join our side…” The Elf General circles a rather close-by province from the one previously showed. “..The message mentions that they are forced into submission by the troops stationed there. The mayor requests that we mobilize our troops upon them and promises us inside support from the town and their militia against Emberland’s troops. In exchange for their freedom, Graw’aa will pledge its allegiance to us. The mayor also asks us to hurry before there are exposed as traitors, apparently Emberland’s Inquisitors already began questioning the townsfolk. ” The General turns on his heel, his pale green eyes almost piercing through Aleko “Mobilizing the troops from Fion’ebrad to Graw’aa would take about 4 days, maybe sooner, sire.” Marteen was silent yet his expression was anything but happy about his report. Pepper Bulkwyn couldn’t help but inquire “You don’t seem all that glad about this plan. Is something bothering you?” The Elf General gave a slight ‘mphm’ before turning back at the map “Sire, I suspect this may be a trap. If we were to march our troops, Fion’ebrad would be too lightly defended for my taste, considering that there is no fortress defending it. If we march our forces, the town will be vulnerable to a potential assault lying in wait nearby . I would recommend that we first send reinforcements to bolster their defenses before sending the troops to Graw’aa.” The Anthro General crossed her arms “How long would it take to bring these reinforcements from a nearby allied province?” Marteen places both his hands behind his back, straightening his spine “About 5 days” he answers curtly to which Pepper protested “That means it will take you more than a week to finally launch the assault. In this whole time the Inquisitors would most probably have interrogated a large number of townsfolk and we all know what that means. The gallows would be littered with ‘traitors’! “ The Elf General maintained his posture, visually unfazed by the Anthro’s remarks. “It is a risk we may have to take if we..-“ Before he could finish his sentence, Pepper protested “You can’t! They are your own people, you can’t just…-“ this time it was Marteen who interrupted her with a simple gesture of the hand “It is our Emperor’s command that I will follow, not yours.” He then turned to face Aleko “Sire, what are your orders?”

--Bojor Ironfist--

A large puff of smoke makes way to the Dwarven General stepping forward “A’ight, listen ‘ere an’ listen good.” He then manipulates the map to show a southern portion of the Dwarven Kingdom, where it meets with the shared border of the Human Kingdom of Winterpeak. Bojor circles a province which supposedly controls one part of the border “This ‘ere is tha’ province o’ Paletower. A border-town which we’l be needin’ if we eve’r plan ta’ have a’n easier time in conquerin’ this ‘ere Human Kingdom ta’ tha’ north. Unfortunately, them boys ar’ bein’ under constan’ attack by tha’ forces from this ‘ere province..” He circles a neighboring Human province on the other side of the border. “Northspark, I think it’s be called. One thing I known’ fo’ shure it’s be sworn’ ta’ Allister an’ his blasted Old Empire. “ Bojor turns around to face you, still smoking from his cigar “Now, Paletower’s defenses be one hell’ ‘o a kind. Outh’a be since them boys managed ta’ repel attacks from Northspark time’ an’ time’ again’, now that be good’an all but…” he takes a long smoke “..we need ta’ do somethin’ ta’ make sure it ain’t happenin’ again, we need ta’ take over Northspark an’ secure a real strong border-point fer’ ourselves in tha’ process.” He takes one last smoke before tossing the butt away “Now, I’ realize that Northspark’s defenses ar’ preatty tough themselves....fo’ Human-made maesonry… not ta’ mention that them Wizards make lots’a problems also. But… They won’ be expectin’ ta’ be flanked by anoth’er force.” The Dwarven General turns around to circle a nearby province in Winterpeak “This ere’ be tha’ province o’ Coldshire. If they be’ sendin’ their troops ta’ march on Northspark’s fortress from tha’ rear, tha’ town will send em’ reinforcements ta’ hold tha’ fort, while my’ boys be attackin’ tha’ town’ itsesalf, in less thaen a day an than its’ goin’ ta’ be a solid victory.” A hint of a smile was present on Bojor’s face, apparently he was pleased with himself yet not all shared the sentiment as Duncan stepped forward with a protest. “One moment, Bojor. If we send the troops, Coldshire would be defenseless. It has no fortress to defend the town and it is dangerously close to a province controlled by the Stainless Empire, what if they observe this and decide to attack? Coldshire would be lost !” The Dwarf General’s hint-of-a-smile vanished bringing back his usual frowned expression “If we work fast enougf’ tha’n we can send them troops back home az’ soon az’ tha’ town be ours an’ none woul’ be tha’ wizer. “ He then produces a new cigar from under his coat while Duncan once again protested “You may be fine with taking that kind of a risk but I disagree.” Bojor then lit his cigar and took a short smoke “Well, it ain’t yer call ta’ be made, mate.” The Dwarf General then eyes Aleko while taking another long smoke “So, what’s it goin’ ta’ be laddy?”

Once Aleko issued his orders and the plans were set into motion, the Generals bowed as the Emperor and his companions took their leave. Cyrus lead Aleko to the next place where his attention was required, namely the Council Chamber.

The Council Chamber

---

The Council Chambers offered a distinct difference from the Map Room. The wooden floor, carpets and cushioned chairs offered comfort to the inhabitants during their stay, the gazes of the stone carved statues were replaced by the gazes of the portraits hanging on the walls though somehow they didn’t seem as menacing. The Envoys were already seated at the large table, conversing in a much more soft and mannered tone compared to the loud chatter of the generals. A pair of servants were standing behind them, close to the wall, armed with large jugs filled with wine, ready to be called. When Aleko and Cyrus entered the room, all the Envoys rose from their seats and bowed, each as gracefully as they could, offering warm welcomes to their Emperor, congratulating him on his coronation and asking him to take a seat on the vacant chair at the head of the table. “Sire, we understand that you will mostly be busy with the military campaign..” Ethel Shroudmyr spoke as she sat back to her seat along with the rest of the Envoys “..but surely you know that there is more to being a ruler of an Empire than simply having a strong arm and an inkling to military strategy.” The refined Half-breed lady gracefully picked up her chalice of wine and took the tiniest of sips before continuing her idea “An Emperor needs to be diplomatic, clever and sly at times. You must keep the people happy if you wish for them to support you.” She puts the chalice down and then places both her hands over her lap “ Fear can also do the trick though which you find easier is up to you, ofcourse.” Her mismatched eyes were affixed on Aleko, as if looking right through his soul, one eye judging it to the essence while the other seemed to offer comfort, even if it may be in the smallest of dozes. Markus Gwynpath cleared nodded “Milady Shroudmyr is correct, sire. Now that you are here we may begin our discussions, there are a few important issues which require your attention and ultimately your judgment.” The Envoys were now sitting on each side of the table, ready to begin discussion.

--Marcus Gwynpath--

“Sire..” Marcus’ voice betrayed his age in spite of his appearance “..as you may know, wars have grave consequences upon the common folk, many losing family and home during this dark time. We found that some of our provinces have been overflowing with refugees and I have received many letters from the mayors claiming that provisions are limited and something must be done if they wish to be able to support so many people.” Eamon Weissnout shook his head and made light ‘tsk’ sounds. “Poor people. I can’t imagine how it is to lose everything. War can be much more taxing upon the commoners.” The Human Envoy nodded “Indeed and the Stainless Empire is not making it any easier, especially for us.” That statement attracted some attention “Many of the refugees in our provinces from the Human Kingdoms come from the provinces loyal to Emberland. The majority being Half-Breeds and their families fleeing from the persecution and…” Marcus grimaced for a slight moment “..the so-called ‘purge’ of the Inquisition.” A few moments of silent contemplation passed before Ethel Shroudmyr spoke “Well in this case, the solution is quite simple, my dear sir.” The Human Envoys rose an eyebrow in suspicion and paired his hands “Do tell..” he said softly “The supplies from each province is limited, especially in this time of war…” she answered “…and there won’t be a shortage of refugees anytime soon. Thus, the solution is obvious : Turn the refugees away from our provinces.” The other envoys were struck with silence for a few long moments until Gymor Cloudkeeper stuttered “M..m.m-m-Mi…Milady, are you…are you serious about this? Turn refugees…away?” Ethel seemed unfazed “Not ALL refugees ofcourse. Only those that are not from our side. These refugees made their choice in allegiance, now let them deal with the consequences. “ Marcus was tightening his grip to the point where one could faintly hear the material from his white gloves stretch “These people have lost everything and are viewed as…outcasts, worse, criminals to be executed! By the very faction they supported ! Don’t you think they suffered enough? Don’t they deserve our sympathy?” The Darkelf Envoy gently touched the obsidian gemstone on her chest as she spoke “Indeed, they do deserve my sympathy and they have it, but this war did not start yesterday. They made their choices in who they support and on which side they stand when it started, we have our own refugees and we take care of them, if the faction they supported does not care about them then what do they expect us to do? Simply welcome them with open arms when we barely have the capacity of caring for our own?” Her tone was never raised, her calmness was akin to the waters of the Frozen Sea, calm and cold as ice. “My thoughts go to them and I wish we could do more to help them, yet the reality is that we simply can not. Not unless we cripple ourselves and that won’t help anyone.” Eamon Weissnout stood solemnly, his gaze pointed downward and with a deep sigh he spoke “Mmmm…As much as it pains me to say it, Milady is right. Burdening ourselves with more refugees than we can manage will cause more damage than good. It’s a hard choice but such is the way of war…” Marcus placed his palms flat on the table as if he was ready to stand up “I’m sorry…but, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We cannot simply turn away desperate people in need for help to fend for themselves! “ He then turns to Aleko “Sire, what do you say about this?”

--Ludwyn Groverunner--

The Elven and Undead Envoys were the only ones at the table not drinking wine, the Elf instead had a porcelain cup filled with a warm, thick, green, tea-like beverage which emanated a rather strong floral scent in its vicinity. “Sire, I will not lie to you, the current state of affairs in our campaign is not doing well and what is even more troubling is that this is common knowledge even among the common folk. After so long a period of war, great losses and comparably poor general state of affairs, the people are, as one would expect, loosing heart in our cause and I hear that there are many who would consider abandoning our cause if only for the hope of a better lifestyle.” Ludwyn’s bright green gaze never left his cup until he took a sip after speaking then stared at Aleko, straight in the eyes “Something must be done to bolster their confidence and help give the common folk some peace of mind and I may have a solution, with your blessing.” A few moments of silence passed in which the other Envoys paid attention, waiting for the Elf to continue “I have discussed with my people and have come to a proposition, I recommend a pilgrimage of Druids to travel to the different provinces aligned to us, imparting blessings of Nature, tending to the needy and restoring faith in our cause and above all, bring a semblance of solace in the hearts of the people.” A few moments of consideration passed before Gymor Cloudkeeper inquired “A pilgrimage of Druids to ALL the provinces under our banner? Even from the other Kingdoms than the Elven Kingdom?” Ludwyn simply answered with a “Yes.” The next question came from Marcus Gwynpath “I assume the Druid Pilgrims will perhaps request donations from the folk sometimes?” The Elven Envoy apparently sensed the suspicion in the Human’s tone “Quite the opposite in fact..” he answered with a hint of superiority in his tone “..The Druid Pilgrims are actually given a sum of income which THEY will donate to the needy wherever they pass and whenever is needed. No donations of coin are needed or ‘requested’, all that is asked for the folk to take a moment and lend a listening ear to what they have to say.” Eamon Weissnaut was tapping the table with the mechanical fingers of his prosthetic arm “I assume that this sum of coins that they will disperse among the needy will be provided by the Imperial Treasury, no?” Ludwyn simply nodded in confirmation as he took another sip from his beverage to which the Anthro Envoy glanced in your direction “Just making sure”. The Dwarven Envoy seemed pleased with the idea “I see no fault in this, surely once cannot simply put a price on the peace of mind and soul of the people, no? I say we commit to sir Groverunner’s proposition.” The discussion seemed all settled and the Envoys decided to take a brief brake to refresh themselves before resuming to discussing other affairs. “Sire, a moment if you may..” Korvius Frosthand called, apparently wanting to discuss something away from the ears of the other Envoys. “Quite the charitable idea, sir Groverunner’s proposition no?” the grin on the Undead Envoy’s face was just as malicious as it was the first time the two met. “Sire, I also just had an idea which may benefit us more in the eyes of the people. You know that a pilgrimage is considered a sacred act, a pious and pacifist movement with the best of intentions for the masses. Only the most heinous and cold-hearted would dare cause any harm to a pilgrimage…” feeling suspicious, Aleko inquired with a vary tone for the Undead to elaborate to which he complied “What I am saying, sire, is that if someone were to let deceiving information slip to our opponent factions that, say, a small squad of Elven soldiers would move through the land under the guise of Pilgrims, one can expect that they would respond by stopping them from whatever plan they may try to complete… in a deadly fashion only for the world to discover that all they did was mercilessly end the lives of innocent Pilgrims.” The Undead Envoy could clearly see the disapproval of the Emperor after explaining his proposition as he tried to convince the Half-breed “Sire,I know that what I am proposing is morally and ethically questionable, yet as my colleague said before, the situation we are finding ourselves in our campaign is dire and we need to grasp every advantage we can manage. The people will find their spirits bolstered with the Pilgrims arrivals and after their death they will raise their fists against the faction that murdered them, how loyal and up-lifted do you think their own people will be once they hear that the leaders they support would do such a thing?” A few moments of silence passed between them before Korvius lightly bowed his head “Just say the word, sire and I will take care of the rest. You will never be linked to this, I promise.”

{High-Casual} Darkest of Times [a Darkest Dungeon themed RP]

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