Sing, goddess, of thirsty Argos, and of the glory of Hippomedon Aristomachides - sing of the folly of Adrastus, of the savagery of Tydeus and of Oedipal transgressions! Sing, O Muse, of Zeus’ designs, which even now come to fulfillment…
This is a WiP game and some (or many) aspects of it are subject to change. - - >The Setting The Democratic Republic of Congo. About 3.5 times the size of Texas, or about the size of the United States east of the Mississippi River.
This is set after the events of the famous /k/ thread about Africa and Paratroopers
While the worst of the fighting was during the First Congo War, and the bulk of the fighting during the Second Congo War is over, the area is on track to suffer millions more deaths. These lives won't be lost in large, "epic" tank on tank battles like earlier, or the kinds of notable guerilla warfare of the "Vietnam War". No one is going to win, nothing is going to be figured out or settled. Vengeance will result in vengeance, and observers wonder if anyone involved actually has any ideology or beliefs.
And there is a lot of groups. Groups within groups, sub factions within sub factions, and factions that are puppets of puppets.
I advise you pause here and read the somewhat questionable, but entertaining /k/ "African Paratrooper thread". Otherwise...
you play as Argia Candente, a trainee Paladin of Ansàrra cursed since birth with silver hair. Now in your darkest hour, you try to understand whether your own Goddess has forsaken you, if your life is truly forfeit and if the Adversary’s offer has any merits…
# # # # # #
Welcome to the <span class="mu-s">seventh thread</span> of <span class="mu-b">Argia Candente</span>’s thrilling adventures! Our scatterbrained, silver-haired (sporting a D-cup, by player vote) Holy Knight-trainee with a penchant for daydreaming and plagued by self-doubt, on a quest to save her family from poverty and starvation.
>Admitted you can survive the next twelve hours, that is.
Now with the added thrill of you having been denounced as agent of the Adversary, your Master imprisoned, being separated from two of your friends, and the turncoat third one… has just birthed a world-ending Worm.
On top of that, you have been seemingly abandoned by the Sun-Birther, the goddess <span class="mu-s">Ansàrra</span>… and the Saint you have always cherished, Bragia Lacresta, has revealed herself to you as the Adversary, the infamous soul-collector, <span class="mu-s">The Stilladìa</span>… who is indirectly responsible for the ruin of your family.
At least, during last thread you got to strike her with an angel’s feather… for all the good it did.
You have suffered through many an ordeal (pictured in the images below), but this time… this time it could be the <span class="mu-i">end</span>… or a new beginning.
For what is a Paladin without a Goddess to hold onto, and what happens when your own faith turns against you?Someone might have an answer… someone who was with you since the very beginning. Though you might not like the Stilladìa’s answers. Was any medicine ever sweet? Or poison…
So, without further ado, let’s take a look at where we come from.
<span class="mu-s">And then let’s decide together where we are going.</span>
The locals call the city <span class="mu-i">Shuǐmén</span>. In the commontongue of the Northwest, it is better known as <span class="mu-s">River’s Mouth</span>.
It is called one of the so-called Three Sacred Treasures of the Goldenriver Men of the Far East; of them, it is perhaps the most renowned. Its spice, silk, porcelain, and especially their alchemical medicine is so world-renowned that the merest scent of them can lure Man, Dwarf, and Elf from across the desert-dry and bandit-besieged expanses of the Goblin Wastes, or through the warring beastman chiefdoms of the cold rim of the world. It is said that the great alchemical philosophers of the Goldenriver Race, whom they call ‘cultivators’ in their commontongue, can turn water to wine, lead to gold, and rejuvenate the elderly so that they may be young again.
<span class="mu-s">You</span> came seeking one such man who went even further than that.
His name was Ziwei Bo, the enigmatic and outwardly-unimpressive proprietor of the Emporium of Wonders. To a layman, his shop was just one more overstuffed bargain bin of magical and alchemical curiosities. Neither shop nor shopkeeper was as they seemed, though, as the most learned hedgemages and occultists of the East alone knew. Ziwei Bo was a lich, and his emporium a demiplane where even Death Himself, the Lord of Endings, could not find and claim the undead cultivator’s soul.
At least, not until <span class="mu-s">you</span> showed him the way.
It’s a dark, almost pitch black night on the campus. Lazari could effortlessly light things up or give herself night vision, but doing so would take away the night out experience. She disliked how so many tried to find ‘solutions’ to things in life that did not need to be fixed. This night was perfectly fine the way it was, although it could use a bit more wind.
She takes off her shoes, letting her feet rest on the fresh grass. Thankfully, most of the lawn recovered from the dragon incident, the last thing she would’ve wanted was to revitalize every bit of grass to make it look uniform again—wouldn’t have been the first time. She stretches
Before she can go on her usual jog, she hears low mumbling from above. She looks up at the school building, until her gaze stops at a bird-like figure resting near the edge of the rooftop. It’s not uncommon for students to hang up there past midnight, but it’s not encouraged for a variety of safety reasons.
Climbing up there would be a piece of cake with magic, but it presents a fun challenge to climb as fast as possible, only relying on her body. One jump, put one foot on a window’s ledge, two jumps, make sure to avoid putting too much strength behind each step, three jumps, grab the edge with your left hand, lift yourself upward and-
There.
Not her best time, but having to climb up silently slowed her down. The student didn’t notice her despite lazari’s imposing figure. She made sure to mask her breathing and mana so that she could slip effortlessly past her in both sight and sound. Lazari taps her shoulder, and the student, who could now be identified as Fet, flinched with a short, high-pitched scream.
There is an awkward silence, followed by unnecessary apologies from the student.
Lazari shrugs, “You can stay here if you want, just don’t go practicing spells at this time of night. I’m glad it’s not some students doing something weird up there again.”
“..Um, ‘again’? How often does that ev- even happen?” Fet’s voice was stuttery, but her voice is less shaky than the last time the two of them spoke.
“You don’t want to know. Nor do you want to know what I mean by ‘weird’. I’ve considered not teaching some spells just because of what I’ve seen people do with ‘em before.” Lazari tries to contain her laughter. “What are you doing at this time, lassie?”
Fet averts her gaze, opting to look at the stars instead. “Thinking about things. I can think more clearly when I’m out- outside, but not when people are around.” Her speech was slower, perhaps as an attempt to control her stuttering.
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
The competition for Princess Yulia’s hand has finally begun! Its first stage saw you and your rivals forced to fight through a horde of violent prisoners in order to reach the fabled Tower of Illusion. Teaming up with two of your foreign counterparts, you cleared the goal and were able to advance to the second stage, where a written exam on kingly matters awaited you. You were forced to put your axe aside and rely on your intellect and knowledge to tackle this trial.
With the second stage completed, you now await your grading, and the impending third stage, which promises to be your most rigorous challenge yet.
>Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7) >Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)
>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Bolt Axe (+14 ATK, Ranged, Targets RES) Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used) Iron Bow (+6 ATK),
>Abilities: Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges) Crest of Macuil: Double the damage of a magic spell. (3 Charges) Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Hit and Run: (Perform an attack that allows you to dodge the next harmful attack. Increases SPD by +7 for 1 turn. Costs 2 Crest of Indech Charges)
Nine years ago King Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. Nine years ago Prince Alric Perenolde, the second heir of Alterac was sent into exile for his own protection. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past nine years made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.
Now you are ready to carry the responsibility and unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.
With the campaign in Durnholde over and the loose threads there and back home in Dawnholme tied up, Alric for a moment could turn his thoughts towards enjoying a nice trip to Stormwind City with Malevus as this grand date.
But of course nothing can go as he wants and after dueling Grom Hellscream and getting wounded in the process, Alric realised the political reality in Stormwind being a much bigger and more complex obstacle. The melancholy of King Varian had for all purposes dragged the City to halt and only drastic measures could help the Stormwind City to recover. At least that was his and Lady Katrana Prestor's thinking.
To most, the idea of being reincarnated into another world was a mere fantasy.
But to you...
It was reality.
Your name is John Doe, and a few months ago you got hit by a truck. After your death you met Herta, the beautiful (and perverted) Goddess of Artifice. She told you that you needed to pick a cheat skill before she could send you to one of the many generic isekai worlds available.
"Because that's heavenly policy!" She'd said.
But instead of picking between those boring options, you took the Goddess Herself and brought her with you to a world of her own creation.
This universe of hers was slapped together with 'tags' and generic fantasy themes. Some might scoff at the abundance of stale tropes and cliched genres, but things were just the way you liked them.
Well, you were still getting used to the unfamiliar logic and morality of this brave new world. Beyond being mere ideas that were held by people, these conceits extended deep into cultural thought, sculpting history and even shaping the laws of physics.
But that wasn't all this universe had in store: Soldiers, airships, mechs, clockwork robots, walking artillery units, all of these and more marched from their homeland's borders to fight in a neverending skirmish against their enemies.
Yet these modern conflicts were petty when compared to the Demon Lord's invasion. So great was that war, that the scars from that era lingered like a thorn on the side. Corruption magic threatened to destroy everything if not purged whenever it was found, despite it being many millennia since the demons were vanquished. This evil magic will grow and fester if no precautions were taken. Thankfully there were many organizations in the world that dealt with these sorts of things.
Today, gold poured from the coffers of nations as everyone clamored to get a slice of the goods and weapons available. In spite of the constant wars and battles, commerce flowed through the planet, giving and taking away fortunes in an instant.
These realities gave testament to some of this universe's priorities - war, trade, and steampunk tech.
And that didn't even mention what is blatantly the most important of this universe's conceits: Slavery. It was a fact of life. Everyone you'd met in this world approved of it and spoke about it like it was the most common thing in the world. Which, in this world's context, made perfect sense.
As Freeborn Men are people, thus women and the lower classes are considered property. Although one could argue that slavery in this world was not the same type of chattel slavery that might pop into your mind whenever someone in your old world mentioned the word 'slave'. Providing evidence to support that theory, the Bondage Accords, which are a sort of international agreement most nations adhered to, granted certain protections to the enslaved despite their legal status as objects.
