| King of Conquerors |
The man rested his head against the old abandoned hall, dilapadated and useless like himself, he thought. He tapped his wooden legs against the ground, calling out for money. Once, he had been a warrior, commander of the Drelia rebels, standing tall and proud, fearless before the hordes of Ploras. He had lost of course, but it was at great cost in Plorian lives, whereas most of the Drelians had escaped. The generals of Ploras were foolish, of course, to fight in the mountains and little suspected what the rag-tag band of troops could do. They lost their conquered cities, and only one was left, the one in which the man begged for a little food.
He opened his eyes to a cheerful sight, a dozen Plorian guards, swords unsheathed and bows at the ready. The one in the front, an orc with saliva hanging from his jaw, addressed him. "Guran, commander of the Drelian rebels, you are placed under arrest for treason, thievery and murder of the emperor. You will be hanged at noon on the 'morrow. For now though," he hissed, "you will be brought to the prison." Guran chuckled, a deep and rich laugh, resonating throughout the run-down streets. "By the whelp of the emperors orders, who stabbed his own father in the back? He has no authority within these walls." And with that he stood, proud and fearless once more, holding his sword, Thyerst, against the twelve guards. The orc laughed, and drew a hidden knife, which he threw at Guran's chest, covered only by a thin leather tunic. Blood trickled to the ground, and Guran was hauled away to the prison walls.
Guran woke with a start, he was in a cell, dark and dank it was, the smell of urine wafted through the air. He retched, adding to the aroma. A guard passed by the iron bars and laughed. "It's time for your hanging," he said, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. He shoved Guran through narrow and winding passageways, bringing him to the surface at last. He was kicked into the centre of the street. The orc who had arrested him put a loose noose about his neck, throwing it over a wooden contraption and tying it to a thing unseen. "Now," he laughed, "I could winch the rope back and see you hang. But, I'd much rather those pitiful things which you call your legs would be the death of you." He pulled an axe from a bystander. The crowd was few, but those there has bloodlust in their eyes and chanted the same syllable over and over again. The axe cut through Guran's wooden legs easily, they barely halted the weapon's passage through the air. Guran struggled with death for a while, his final sight not of the crowd, but the white sheep of the sky moving eastwards, pursued doggedly by the wind. His twisted smile stayed as his body was thrown into a pit, and as worms and nameless creatures picked at his flesh and dug through his skin, eating his heart and growing fat upon his blood.
Alright, basically(if you decide to play) you start off as a commoner, one of the six races(VU ones, all cities have all the races living in them). There is currently the Plorian empire(Ploras), which covers practically the whole known world(I'll have a map up later), the Drelian kingdom(Drelia) a single city, the Oplin kingdom(Oplus), the Kingdom of Ylart, the Kingdom of Ilpotse. You work your way up through the ranks and try to expand. You just do it in story-form, with little influence from me.
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[[OOC: So it's like the Place? I'm in!]]
Larus Arkus woke up with a start and looked around the shack that he had been in. It was dark, though he had a candle. After lighting it, his features became obvious. His eyes were a bright, almost glowing emerald color and his hair was brown and dirty. His build was that of a man used to hard labor. He got up and put on one of his two shirts (this particular one was brown) and a pair of breeches. Afterwards he put on a pair of cheap shoes and walked out the door. It was early in the town of Cidel, and few were awake. Larus walked through the empty streets and finally reached the large house of Lord Hasildor, a recently appointed Lord whose main concern was cleaning up the town and putting an end to poverty. He approached a window and saw that the woman who usually tended it was not up yet. After waiting for fifteen minutes, she appeared with a large pot of soup. She gave Larus a large bowl for being the first one there and he ate it gladly. After his belly was as full as it was going to get, he made off towards the quarry outside of town. After eight hours of long, hard work, but non-declining work, one of the supervisors approached.
"The Overseer wants to see you," said the supervisor.
Larus set his tool down and nodded before walking off with the supervisor.
***
"You've been working here for almost six months now, never have I seen anybody work so hard," said the Overseer.
"I'm saving up, and this pays a lot," said Larus.
"Saving up for what?" asked the Overseer.
"Schooling, I want to learn to read," said Larus.
"You are smarter than you look for wanting that ability," said the Overseer.
"Thank you sir," said Larus.
"From now on, you will not work so hard. You won't last much longer doing that stuff anyway, I'm promoting you to the rank of supervisor," said the Overseer.
"Thank you sir!" said Larus.
"You're very welcome, now go and tend to the slackers," said the Overseer with a chuckle.
***
After thirty minutes of being showed how to treat the slaves (which Larus didn't agree with), Larus walked home to his shack with the day's wages. Upon reaching his shack, he dug up a hole in his floor that held a large sack. Inside was his savings, and he added the larger than usual wages to it with a smile. Afterwards, he reburied the sack and rested on his bedroll. After a few minutes, however, the door was opened and a man entered, Larus pretended to be asleep as the man looked around the shack, carefully searching through the few posessions that Larus had acquired.
Must be looking for my savings...he won't find it...but how did he know?
Finally, the man turned and swung his fist at Larus's seemingly slumbering form. Larus blocked with agility and countered with a punch to the man's face. The man stumbled back and Larus got up just in time to grab the man's wrist. In the man's hand was a dagger, and he was trying eagerly to pu*beep* into Larus's stomach. After a short struggle, Larus succeeded in disarming the man. Before the man could escape, however, Larus stabbed him in the back. The man fell to the ground and Larus looked around nervously.
I just killed...I just killed&nb*beep*an...what have I done?
Larus took the dagger from the man's back and blood began pouring from the wound as the man began screaming. After a few seconds, he gave a final sputter before dying. Larus took the man's scabbard and wiped the dagger on the dead man's shirt, he then checked who the man was.
I know this man, he's a supervisor. He must've heard me mention my savings while I was speaking with the Overseer.
Larus knew that he would not get away with murder, even in self-defense. He grabbed what few possessions he had (including his savings and a gold ring that had belonged to his Uncle), and ran out the door. He would leave the city, he couldn't come back.
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~Map~
You must pick a kingdom/empire. You can make your own further along, you could try now, but you wouldn't get very far. Black = Ploras, Yellow = Drelia, Green = Oplus, Red = Ylart, Ilpotse = Cyan
The grains of sand trickled down the glass, and it was watched by many anxious faces. When the last grains trickled into the bottom, another would be taken. Another would be hauled off to fight in the ring, hundreds of voices would be chanting from the stands wishing only for death. The last grain fell and the trapdoor was opened. A hand plucked a skinny halfling from above and slammed the trapdoor back into place. A grating laugh was heard. "You won't last long, will you? Your opponent is a lion or two." The halfling shivered, not for the lack of clothing, though he was in dire need of some, along with food. He was treated to both, a bloodied and dented helmet thrust into his hands, and a thin plate of mail tugged roughly onto him. "Not much use in wasting this precious metal on you, but it has seen a good few days." It was rusted and scratched, and there was sign of a smiths work at the chest. A sword found its way into his hands. "Found a while back, in an alleyway. Too good for the likes of you, but I can retrieve it later and keep it for my own, wetted with your own blood hopefully. Now, what's your name, so I can announce it to the crowd, as you run into the jaws of the lions?". There was no answer. "Hmm... dumb are you? Well, I'll just give you a fierce sounding name. Good luck, Rylin the Killer, though you'll need a miracle." A shout was heard, as the fight was annouced "Rylin the Killer versus a pair of lions." A bloodthirsty yell went up, and the lions roared with venom.
The newly named Rylin stumbled into the arena, waving the sword unthreateningly. He was struck by the beauty of the sword, it shone silver in sunlight, it was light and sharp. He continued on towards the lions, pitying them almost as much as himself. They had been starved many days before this fight. Well, he thought, they won't get much of a meal from me. He walked on warily, nearing the lions. They were chained to a wooden stave, though the chain was not short. The first leaped at him, snarling, but was held back by the stave. With a snap the stave came free, and the lion bit deep into Rylin's leg. He cursed, but managed to stab the lion. He did not kill it, he was loathe to, but the sword had bitten deep. He backed away, as did the lion, fearing another reprisal. Rylin figured a way to get himself out of the arena. He knew a little magic from years gone by, and muttered an incantation. Whether by fate or fortune, he said the wrong one, what he said was a spell to weave visions in front of any being. He had not known the spell, and there were very few that did, and who had the will to cast it. A bad spell could break a man. He found himself gazing at a tree stump.
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[[Can I remake the map into something more... erm, how do I say this without being insulti- BETTER? :-) ]]
A traveller walked into the Yellow Wood Inn, wearing an attire of black robes, which covered the man's blue elather armour, cyan hair, and pointed ears. He walked up to the bartender, muttered a couple of words, and paid the man for his ale. The elf drained his ale after ten minutes, and was about to leave the place when suddenly, two men with black chainmail barged into the room, with black bllades drawn. The pale face of the elf went paler, and he hastily turned around, keeping his face away from the soldiers as they proclaimed a question.
"Has any peasant here seen any strange folk with black robes around this pub?" they queried.
Several of the men pointed to the elf, who now was sittting rigidly in his seat. The soldiers then walked up to the cloaked person and yanked him around, and pulled off his hood. Several of the patrons in the room gasped when they saw the elf's face.
"It's the Blue Bandit!" they shrieked.
"Well well well," one of the soldiers said with a grin on their face. "Lookie here. I reckon that the reward for apprehending this bandit is still over 9,000 coins, eh?"
"You won't be collecting any bounty tonight," the Blue Bandit gravely remarked. "I'll never come with you alive."
"My plan exactly."
The soldiers closed in to kill the rogue, when one of them fell back, with a knife shoved into his ribs. He then fell over dead as the elf stabbed him again. The other soldier yelled in fury, but was cut down as the Bandit unsheathed his sword, and lopped off the bounty hunter's head. Then, without hesistation, the elf ran from the pub, out into the dark night, back to his homeland of Iltopse...
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By all means, make another map/make that map better. Just have five kingdoms/empire and one much bigger than the rest. ☻Oh, and cyan hair?
Rylin continued to stare at the stump. An odd place to end up in, trees all around him had been felled, many hundred at least. It was once a vast expanse of forest, nothing now but stumps and carcasses of the great variety of creatures that had lived here. He thought then that he had tricked even himself into thinking the vision was true. It was strange, he thought, as most illusions did not show a specific image, but rather played tricks on the mind, forcing them to believe they were somewhere else or the like. A proper illusion spell would take many days to weave. He knew, then, that it was not his own spell. It was the work of a true wizard, an archmage. Rylin pondered a while, and wondered who would go to such lengths to save him. It did not matter at any rate, and soo Rylin was among the spectators, as well as the lions, and he found the entrance with little difficulty, a river of people was streaming towards it.
He grabbed a cloth from a random trader, the markets were in full flow. He covered his blade in it, and managed to tie it around his waist, rather uncomfortably. He ambled along the streets, and finally halted outside a small building. It was an inn. The walls had begun to crack, and it looked cold and uninviting. He loitered around the door for a bit, listening to the hub-bub inside, and then wandered in. It entered into a large, crowded area, where customers jostled for attention, yelling out for ale. Rylin settled on a high chair and waited patiently, eventually getting the attention of the keeper. He order food and lodgings, paying a few gold coins. He ate presently, a cold and small meal, and then wandered up to his quarters. It was a run-down room, cobwebs lay in the corners, a dozen flies in each. The bed was small, but the covers were clean. He opened the drawers, the one other item of furniture in the place. There was a crossbow inside, and Rylin pondered a while before picking it up. It was heavy, being made of iron, and it had begun to rust. He dropped it back in its place, and slept soundly, despite the noise from below well into the night.
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The bandit arrived back at the gates of Iseliath, the northern town of the Iltopse kingdom. He sneaked past the guards in front of the main gates, and then slid into another tavern, hoping to have at least one drink before falling asleep. Little did he know that the bounty on his head had been tripled, and that every bounty hunter in the land was searching for the Bandit.
The bartender smiled at the Bandit and said, "Welcome back, Travis. I've got some of yer followers staying here. Want a word with them?"
Travis shook his head. "No thanks. I need some sleep before I start back on robbing Ploras."
"You should keep your voice a little lower next time you mention that," the barkeep told Travis. "Some... unfriendly folk are in town. Searching for a man with a description very much like yours."
Travis smiled. "I promise I won't run into... too much trouble."
"Your definition of a little trouble is mayhem. I shudder to think about what you can really do."
Travis laughed, and paid the keep for his drink. He then bought a room for himself to reside for the day, and immediantly fell asleep.
[[I present to you... the new ~MAP~ Not my best map, but it is better. You can stick with your map, Killer, or mine.]]
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[[OOC: I'll need to catch up a lot on the weekend. O.O
Sorry, we're moving and our internet is out until Friday...>>]]
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Thank you Larson, we'll be using that map now. (How did you do it by the way? Copied and used GIMP I presume, but it looks very similar yet most of the coutries are a different size) Oh and by the way, the squares are the capital of each country, circles are big towns/cities, and the squares on their sides with lines coming out from them are the err... capitals of the empire/kingdom, whatever you call them.
Rylin awoke to roars and yells. He stumbled down to have a quick meal before leaving. He overheard that there would be a great many men recruited(in Drelia, yellow) for a final push against the Plorians(black). There were rumours also of each of the other kingdoms fighting against the Plorians. He payed for his meal and bedding and left.
The city was in full flow. All sorts of beings wandered towards the main hall, a huge building in the centre of the city, use for announcements and recruiting for the army. The young halfling followed them along the winding streets. He finally emerged before the hall. It stretched at least as long as fifty yards and half that widthways. It held several hundred beings, and more were coming. Not even these giant of a building would hold all those who came. A third of the population, young and old, were streaming along alleyways and sidestreets to the hall. Even so, it would be crushed by the Plorian army's might. That did not stop the people.
Rylin entered through the wide doors, and heard a tall troll, fierce and grim, yelling above the clamour of the crowd. "We will hew the legs from beneath the empire's body, taking the isle of Tylos and continuing from there. Such recruitings are going on all throughout the land, no other kingdom will take the brunt of that whelp of an emperors anger. Soon he will start on his own empire, but we cannot wait so long as to see the dogs bite their master's throat. Three thousands we have in men, and it looks like it will be thrice that if you join us. Join us! And you will taste the blood of your enemy, as his severed head rolls amongst his companions, and their screams voiceless." With that the troll drew his own sword and yelled fiercely, and others soon followed suit. The noise was deafening, and they stopped only when they were at last short of breath. Weapons were then distributed evenly among those who would fight for their kingdom. The weapons were few, and it was evident that a great many farmer tools would go to battle. Rylin managed to get an oaken shield, small and light, yet tough as stone. He then followed the others to the barracks just outside the city.
It was but a short march, and soon Rylin found himself in front of a steaming bowl of stew. He gobbled it down, and slept outside the barracks like so many others, his pillow a stone and no blanket. It was fortunately, a warm night, and it did not rain. Rylin was also wrapped up well, and he favoured his fortune to have found a sheltered spot from the light breeze. They would soon go to war, tomorrow the ships would arrive, and they would pour onto them to take the little isle of Tylos.
[Other kingdoms are just going to go to war with lands beside them]
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Tried to make the map look as close as I could make it to your previous one. Made a few ch@nges here and there, but it is almost completely the same, and still easy to modify.
~~The Battle of Iseliath~~
Travis awoke one morning to hear people shouting in the streets, yelling in fear, excitement, and any other emotion there is during war. Dressing himself in his normal attire, a black cloak covering his blue leather armour, his longbow held in his hands, he opened the door and walked over to the bar.
Three of his bandit friends, Barus Teramia, a skilled longswordsman, William Larson, an adequate knife-wielder, and Secerus Hal, a skilled swordsman, were standing by the door, weapons drawn. Travis yelled, "What's all the commotion?"
"Plorian forces are invading Iseliath," Barus replied. "Should we join the party?"
"Ready your arms, we shall fight our antagonists!"
The four bandits rushed out of the tavern and into the fury of battle. Ilpoian infantry clashed the attacking forces of Ploras, trying deperately to push back their opponents, Travis strung an arrow and landed one right into someone's head. The bandit swore, as to see that another had come to take the man's place. He strung another arrow, and put a sack of blasting powder on the tip of it. He lit a fire on it, and quickly loosed it into a group of spearman. The arrow exploded in a bang on one of the soldier's face, and killed the surrounding men. Two swordsman came charging at Travis, swords drawn, but easily knocked aside as Travis kicked one in the stomach, and hit the other with the end of his bow.
The Plorian forces slowly were dininished, and forced to fall back to the outer walls of Iseliath. After an intense battle, Ilpoian reinforcements came from behind the Plorian army, and quickly defeated the Plorians. The death toll of the Ilpotse soldier's were 200. The Plorian casualties were 2000.
As so war came to the continent of Yaverus, the Ilpotse Kingdom and some of the Plorian Empire, and the first battle was in favor of Ilpotse.
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Near a hundred ships arrived, sailing over the calm sea. The whole of the city had been abondoned, the women, children and men were brought to the shore. It had been a slow procession, and still they arrived a little while before the ships, which came as the sun reached its highest. They poured onto the vessels, and set off across the waves towards the little isle. The Tylosians would have little time for preparation, and the would be quicly overwhelmed. The Drelian forces numbered twelve thousand and eight thousand more in peasants(not many peasants as cities had been taken and retaken, causing many deaths, both peasants and soldiers).
They sailed for a day and a half, coming at last to the shores of Tylos. Rylin was surprised at the size of the island, it was not huge, but he had the false impression that it was tiny, barely the size of one town. They continued to the centre of the isle. Rylin saw a flame lit in a tower in the distance. They knew at last that war was coming to their borders. Rylin wondered how they were supposed to reach land with a thousand arrows hailing down upon them. He did not wait long before he found out.
The town stuck out slightly from the mainland, a huge port in its centre. A great many ships lay uselessly, anchored and tied. A large, thick wall lay beyond this, stretching up three dozen feet or so, and perhaps ten feet wide. Rylin wondered idly where their own ships came from, and decided it didn't matter as several arrows lit with fire caming flying over the wall. They were fairly useless, despite the calm seas the ships were wet. A few however, found targets in the troops. The Drelians replied in kind, but their arrows were probably as useless, if not more so. Orders were roared, and soon the ships were deftly anchored, and troops milled out onto the dock. Swords were drawn from their scabbards, and the troops roared and yelled, running towards their foe. Rylin was pushed along, and soon he found himself in front of an raised platform of wood. The archers had stood on these to shoot out at the ships, but now they were burning, with many of those archers still there. Soon, however, swordsmen and spearmen(not necessarily human) came charging from the city, and the Drelians were hard pressed to avoid being pushed back into the burning pile. Rylin saw that they had no other defences facing the sea inside the town, and then wondered why such a large port was not better protected.
Rylin eventually somehow found himself in the front line, facing crazed orcs, seemingly the last of the troops. They surged foward, and the Drelians were driven back. The Plorians were, however, vastly outnumbered, and soon their numbers dwindled. The Drelians had lost a good thousand of capable warriors, but had taken the town rapidly. The Plorian troops had only numbered eight hundred. Very few people were left inside the city, a quick and successful evacuation of the town had saved many lives. Rylin feasted on the town's supplies with his companions, and wondered what a new day would bring. Horns had sounded, torches had flared, troops would soon be marching towards the town. He wondered how the other kingdoms had fared, and he decided that they must at that moment, have been giving up their arms...
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The Plorians marched the next day. From the south, and from the north. They numbered fifteen thousand strong. There were but meagre defences outside the town, and the armies marched onwards. Arrows flew over the walls, slamming into the ground. They hammered down the wooden gates. The saw their foe at the far side of the town and charged. A bloody battle ensued. Rylin watched with amusement. It was indeed a powerful spell to make them fight each other. Even more powerful to have not been noticed by the mages of their foe. Eventually they realised they had been tricked. Eventually, with three quarters of their troops lying dead. The Drelians simply picked them off with arrows, and slew any who managed to come near.
The Drelians marched northwards and southwards, killing any peasants that manned the defences, and enslaving the rest. It would be difficult indeed for the Plorians to attack, and many days of planning would be needed.
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(We can be freedom fighters seeking to esatblish the old kingdom right?)
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Adam silently stood watching the last of the land of Drelia fade into the distance, fortunately for them the wind was on their side and the waters were calm.
Adam came from the southernmost islands in the world an icy expanse that would for some part of the year melt and surprisingly give rise to beaches. Adam originally was from there and had learnt a great deal including about magic and poisons but everything had changed with the coming wit coming of the Plorians who ravaged all the lands and massacred many, fleeing Adam had become a mighty Pleborian champion secretly instigating revolts and organizing support for the downfall of the Pleborians.. Even know they held the island but barely for that island was one where it was extremely difficult for any external power to maintain forces. Apart from that that colony had been the most peaceful one hardly ever dissenting, that was because they were wise people who kept accumulating stores for war in places the Pleborians couldn't even imagine of, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Adam went back into the deck, e'd come out when they reached.
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*cough* [You might make better use of commas...]
Alright... Alright... I'll start this again(well not restart it, just continue), but it'll be slow. Tomorrow :)
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[OOC- So this is being restarted .... if so ill join in hehe]
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Ugh...
Alright, the kingdoms are reasonably peaceful now, but there are armies being recruited for future battles. So, find yourself a job and get some money and stuff...
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