You are David Hardrada, founder of the colony of Thunor made up of ex-soldiers whom had laid stake to a world upon the edges of civilized space. Through struggles and dangers, you had found yourself, over a decade after setting first foot upon the world, hosting a foreign lord. Throughout the pleasantries, your <span class="mu-g">empathetic</span> nature had allowed you to read the man well enough to ensure you maintain a good enough relationship for the upcoming negotiations.
After you had retired after throwing a rowdy feast wherein people gathered, socialized, danced, and held a boxing match fighting each other to both went frustration and to have some fun. Unfortunately, you being born a commoner, you lacked the abilities to simply ignore a raging headache currently pounding and trying to break out of your skull. You once again find yourself having to carry out the duties as the reigning monarch (title pending) of Thunorians (name pending).
Trying to stay focused via the power of caffeine, you stare across the table at your counterpart - Margrave Mykell Oreskovich, a vassal of House Orion. Next to you sits your council, next to him sit all of the various officers whose names you, at this particular junction, are not really capable of remembering.
Much to your chagrin, Mykell appears to be entire nonplussed about yesterday, even though he drank much harder liquor than you had. The entire situation had now been more or less entirely dominated by Ashwin, your minister of foreign affairs, and whomever Mykell appointed. A man whose name you failed to catch, but his calm and even tone, similar to that of Ashwin’s actually, has been helping you keep yourself together.
Still, in matters such as there, potentially changing the fate of your entire peoples, it is only a matter of time before both you and the Margrave must make decisions upon the big issues. On this occasion – payment.
Warships are expensive, apparently. A lot more expensive than you had ever thought, being infantry, the most expensive thing you had personally had the displeasure of trying to replace was an APC, and were you damn glad that had not come out of your pocket.
Your scattered internal ramblings aside, even the rudimentary patchwork for the warships is going to drain your common material reserves and then some. Chances are the Margrave and his men will stay here a few months, and chances are, they won’t have enough food, or at least food that they are willing to eat, the same of course goes for water. One of the upsides of not being out in space but around the planet is unlimited shower rations, especially considering the fight these men and women went through.
You find a an ancient map from the old continent your people came from a long time ago, fleeing from an ancient undead plague. The plague seems to have stopped, and so the continent should be rife for conquest!
You assemble a team and traverse the waves!
You have up to 1000 points to prepare your voyage (you can spend less if you want, but not more).
Ships (you need enough ships to carry all your people and stuff, otherwise some of it will be left behind):
Caravel (capacity for 30 people - it is a sailship, can't move without winds) - 50 points Rowship (capactiy for 50 people - it is fast but has no weapons, can only ram) - 100 points Galley (capacity for 200 people - big and slow, but carry several ballista, can sail and row) - 500 points
Unskilled Laborers - these people have no particularly useful skills, but they can still haul goods just fine
Leader
Charismatic - little more than a peasant leader, but the people love you and follow you (100 points) Courtesan - leading through your female wiles, your ease in making allies is unparalled (100 points) General - you're recognized amongst the best military strategists in the world (100 points)
Optional:
Noble - a member from one of the ancient houses, adds legitimacy to your claim (+100 points) Monarch - a direct descendant of royalty, who are fabled to descend from the gods themselves (+300 points) Magician - someone with proven supernatural powers, possibly a half-demon (+500 points)
Resources (each 100 units takes 100 population worth of space; the number listed below is cost in points per unit):
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.
You vanquished a group of pirates that attacked your ship, making several new allies: Alvin, a merchant captain and ‘Adjunct’ of the Royal College of Sorcery, May, a stowaway and thief of remarkable skill, and Adeline, a knight from a disgraced noble family.
You then arrived in Solis, a port city, where circumstances brought you into confrontations with both the locals as well as other contenders for Yulia’s hand. Your strength saw you through these trials, and you acquired additional allies: Cassius, a Morfisian Sorcerer with an admiration for Fodlan, Elric, a young Fodlan noble with little ability, and Cuthbert, a war veteran and Elric’s bodyguard.
After stocking up on supplies and choosing one of two travel routes, you and your party were ready to depart for Morfis, the City of Illusions. In 30 days, the competition would begin in earnest. But for now, you must travel through the desert, facing any perils that may come your way.
>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 attack power 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)
Previously on Breadwinner Adventurer Quest: >You escorted Helmod, a blind old man with a tragic past, to the Oracle of the Moon >Along the way, you fought off a deadly and unnatural creature with a barbed tail and a human face >Having completed your task, you decided to return with your earnings to your home in Hobley >You encountered the party of Odneyn the Otter on the road, who appears to be going to the same place
Although you could easily lie and send them wandering off in the complete opposite direction, you decide not to impose your own personal grudges with the reeve on a group of complete strangers. Remarking that Odneyn's reputation precedes him, and that you would be happy to guide him and his company to what is, in fact, your own destination, you take your position at the front and start leading the way.
You quickly get a sense of their various personalities: Odneyn is unspoken leader, easy-going in his manner, and gregarious to a fault. He chatters away to no one in particular about the travails of the road, the beauty of the countryside, even a rather heated debate on the virtues of hounds versus housecats (Odneyn is firmly in the hound camp, while his bald companion violently insists on the superiority of the feline).
The others are more reserved, with varying motivations for their reticence. The woman in white seems to regard it as beneath her to participate in such mundane discourse. Her younger attendant tries to emulate her mistress, but you catch her smiling once or twice at Odneyn's more comical refrains. The Suthermann, on the other hand, is silent because his entire attention seems to be spent scanning the dimly lit environs of the road, as though he expects an ambush any minute now. He is very different from the Suthermann you met in the mountain, not nearly as unnerving in his bearing and lacking those strange glowing eyes and the smooth, ageless visage. If not for the long white hair you would not have even recognized him as a member of his race. Finally, the mousy man with the bow seems completely content to just listen and watch, only breaking his silence to offer a sardonic comment or two. You get the impression that nothing escapes his notice, it is all being scrolled away in some mental ledger for later use.
Eventually, Odneyn exhausts his store of conversation and falls silent--with still a ways to go on the road. Now would be the perfect time to bring up some matters of your own and seek Odneyn's counsel. He is after all quite well-travelled. You could ask about the strange coins you received from Samuel Longsword, or the unnatural beast you fought on the mountain. Or perhaps it is wiser to hold your tongue and keep your own counsel.
His wail was liable to wake the dead. His brother and two others held him back with a tender expectation that any moment he might test their grip. He did. It seemed he might even make it to her, but his brother caught a wrist and wrestled him back. The muddy thoroughfare was laden with people, silent but for an occasional sob rising into the cold morning air. All eyes were on the palanquin.
It was flat, open-topped, solidly built, unadorned. On it lay seven bodies, eight now as the Sonziz lifted her into the last of the open space. Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. The cheeks gave it away, though they’d already started to wither despite the effort put on her by whichever amateur took the task. Skin brushed and clean, powder and pale cream, lips daubed bright. The other half of her face was sallow though, lips receding, skin starting to fall down into the canyons of her skull. There was a harsh line at the nose where the amateur had stopped, shaken no doubt by the sound of the bell. Nobody expected a second tithe.
The man wailed again. Higher pitched than one would think him capable considering his bulk. He spilled small, fragile pieces of her name into his hands as the fight left him, drop by drop.
“Mi-mir-m-e.”
His breath began to race, the fact that she was being taken becoming real. It did to everyone eventually. Some small, small spark of hope blossomed in him. It did for everyone, eventually. His eyes turned towards you. Everyone’s did, eventually.
“M-marcel! You can’t let them! She was free…they can’t take her, we already paid. P-please. GIVE HER BACK TO ME!”
He lunged for the palanquin with every mote of wrath left to him. He slipped his brother, the butcher, and the chandler, red-eyed with wet cheeks. He reached for her before you could speak…but it wasn’t fast enough, it never was. One of the Sonziz moved like a sunlit snake and the man’s arm was cracked in half at the elbow, flapping back toward his shoulder as the momentum spun him into the mud at your feet. The splatter sprayed out over your boots, his stoppered breaths made bubbles. He started crying again as you lowered yourself to sit on your heels.
“It’s over, <span class="mu-i">paire</span>. It’s over. There was nothing you could do. Remember that.”
You sit across from the leader of the magical girls Bryta Durwitz. 24 years old. Eyes sparkle like snowflakes. You can't believe that this beautiful woman. A local celebrity basically wanted to be with someone like you. Just an average guy working as a janitor. She and her friends attend Snowfield University, a massive, towering facility with pearlesant gates where all the magical girls in the city attend. You're starstruck, finding it hard to even form words as she sits across from you outside at the cafe table. Come on, surely you can manage something. You weakly choke out,
"I-it was a surprise, when I saw you save that guy... F-from the monster, when... When we met. I can't believe, the real Winter Gleam is really sitting here with someone like me..."
She twirls her finger lightly conjuring a magical vanilla ice cream cone, floating it towards you. You awkwardly catch it giving it a clumsy lick. Its... Delicious... So rich and pure... Shes smiling cutely at you.
"Hehe, you look like you're enjoying it. I wanted... To find someone who didn't have any abilities. Its hard, to find people to connect with, that aren't at my school that don't already know me. I guess I figured, why not take a chance with someone new?"
Clearly the whole city knows of her at least somewhat. But at least that makes sense. Still, theres gotta be something you can say or do that won't fuck this up for you...
------------ A) Whats it like, being a magical girl? Is it fun? Do you have any favorite spots to go monster hunting with your friends?
B) Whats your home life like? Do you have any family? I bet you life in a big fancy schmancy place huh?
C) Must get lonely at the top, even with your friends huh? Having the whole city looking at you, thats gotta be a lot of pressure.
I- Princess Cora of house Maria of the fallen empire of Histresmos, had lost everything I known and own, reduced to just 20 warriors running out of food in the mountains and resorted to petty banditry, trying to only take what is needed, had come to a strange town that suddenly come to existence, Maple Hills, a foreign name for a equally foreign place, full of strange, gray metals, ivory like soft material of all colors, glass so clear that kings would sell entire herds of cattle to buy a single plane cup of cast aside like so much broken pottery, surrounded by cliffs cut completely smooth down to the dirt by whatever act of god or magic that brought this land here.
In my attempt to find out who these people are- me and 4 of my warriors got discovered, and managed to find someone who we could talk to.
You are Amon. G Sus an orphan hobo in the Pokemon universe. After winning a dream vacation to Alola he's been wining and dining and getting it on with the ladies while a mysterious conspiracy seems to surround his seemingly "perfect" vacation.
>We are at 4 spaghetti points at the moment. >Spaghetti points are used to determine how much of a fucking autist you are in dialogs and other rolls for good or bad. They can also be spent on Pokemon evolutions or new moves. So get em but spend them quick. 5 points for an evolution, 3 for a new move
Here is the team!
Foongus: Timid and cowardly, you met him at age 7 when foraging for food. You thought he was a Pokeball due to hunger and he ended up crying due to being afraid. You gave him a last morsel of food to calm him down and he followed you into the city. Now your bros for life. He's more brave during battles as long as its not TOO rough. Ability: Effect Spore Mega Drain Stun Spore Sweet Scent And Clear Smog
Castform: Was met a few months after Foongus. Some faggot with green hair saw you looking for shelter in the rain and offered you Castform to turn the days sunny after "hearing the voice of your Foongus...you meet weirdos amongst the homeless. It worked too! He gave you your original 6 Pokeballs too as means of apology for not being able to do more. You never saw him again. Castform is chipper and sunny! Which is odd given how much he feels like a bag full of water. He always tries to cheer you up! He is pretty bad at battles compared to the rest of your team. He lacks the "killer instincts" but he's loyal! Ability: Forecast Weather Ball Sunny Day...that's about it.
Croagunk: A spacey chill Pokemon you met him during training Castform and Foongus. You tried to battle him but he kind of just...laid on his back. You tried catching him and it worked. Then when a wild Purrlion tried to steal the berries you scrounged up he Low Kicked the fuck out of it and sent it running for the hills. He seems...odd. Very much at his own tempo and logic. You haven't exactly figured it out yet but he's still a loyal companion. Ability: Poison Touch Poison Sting Drain Punch Astonish Mud Slap
<span class="mu-i">"It all comes in threes, in threes, threes..."</span> the caged one cackles as the crusaders finish their third barefooted lap around the mine. The sun scorches the skin and blinds the eye, it's noon in the outskirts of ancient Eridu. Just short of twenty men they are, the long road has tattered them in numbers, in garments, in meat on bone. Yet they persist in their tiredness, performing penance only days after the finish of their long journey.
There is no other way, two nights have passed here, two nightwatch squires have gotten sick. The bishop Adhemar blames his own sins, Ceolmund blames the dirty water that gathers in black puddles everywhere, some blame the one in the iron cage, that is dangling off of rudimentary mine crane high in the sky. Away they were from the glorious battlements of Francia, Adhemar knew, now the humble wooden structures for transport of broken rubble made long ago were their new palisades.
<span class="mu-i">"If Jericho's walls fell after three rounds of encirclement, now let our walls never fall, Saint Michael, as we are paying the same price for the opposite... "</span> Adhemar, leading the procession, finishes their barefoot penance with churchly monologue, extorting health and success from worship worthy figures from the cannon. Behind him are the three knights in the expeditionary group - the german twins Godrick and Gebehart, stuck shoulder to shoulder as always, and behind them - the englishman Ceolmund the Paragon, who is now ordering something to the men...
<span class="mu-i">"Osbert and Thorley, fetch fresh water from the hills we passed as of late, as to rid our bloodied feet of those black pebbles and to bring relief to the two sick boys in the tents... Riley and Aldwin, send the Assyrian to those native abominations and get them back to mine work..."</span>
Someone needs to stand guard tonight, the leaders decide it should be one of them this time.
You are Noel Tiberius di Hazaran, the warrior-queen of the mountain kingdom whose name you share by birth. And this is what you hope will be your last return to the land where you and the rest of those who share your blood and your training were created. ‘Enhanced’ with the blood of monstrous yōma at a young age, you and the other survivors of that process completed a brutal training regimen meant to turn you into the ultimate monster-hunters.
That is what you were told, and as the truth has come out that was not entirely false. Certainly you always knew that the Organization was suspect, but learning that they had your father overthrown and killed to ensure that you had nowhere else to turn was eye-opening. That was even before you started to learn even more about what they had been doing – creating the very monsters you were ostensibly meant to destroy, deliberately pushing its own warriors to the edge of emotional collapse, and eliminating potential troublemakers. They had wanted to create a warrior with powerful yōki and regenerative abilities, but who they could control to use against their enemies.
Now you’re on the verge of pushing them out of your homeland, apparently once and for all, with the surprise invasion of their last major facility on the island of Lavinia. Two of the moving parts for that invasion plan fell into place the way they were meant to, with a raiding party of your own kind slipping ashore to mark targets for two armed corvettes that sailed in behind you, also under cover of night.
The third prong, an infantry push into the hills overlooking your enemy’s last port in the region so that a number of modern mortar teams could hit targets that the corvettes might miss due to their firing angle. After helping to get that infantry advance back on track, you’ve arrived on a hilltop that has a view down onto the port – specifically, you can see several locations where your enemy has cover against the shelling from the waterfront, and has begun a counterattack.
“Well,” you muse aloud, “we can’t have that now can we?”
You turn to Cameron, the senior officer among this formation of soldiers. “You can see those positions from here, correct?”
Sometimes it’s hard for you to judge – since your vision, especially in the dark, is so much keener than a normal human’s is.
Cameron nods. “I see the flashes, yes. But I can’t judge the range.”
“I can do that for you,” you assure him. “I want each crew to focus their efforts on a single position. When they hit their target I want a callout, if they miss their target with their remaining rounds I want a callout for that too. Go ahead of me and let them all know, I’ll be following after.” >1/2
