Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Topics - Attano

Pages: [1] 2 3
Roleplaying / Prayers half-answered
« on: October 10, 2018, 01:22:16 PM »
Apostate awoke from his stupor, lying in trash to a violet storm. He waited it out, cowering in his tattered robes. When it ended he looked to his palm, it was crisscrossed with several more cuts and his dagger was nowhere to be found. His stomach growl and he crawled up. The former priest stole bread from a nearby bakery, halfway through his illegal meal he heard s cry of alarm. Curiosity got the better of him and he searched for it’s source.

People fled from an imposing figure, standing six feet hunched over. It’s skin was a deep crimson and it hurt the eyes to look at. Apostate’s heart soared. His Masters has returned! Truth had returned! He sprinted to it and quite literally fell to his knees.

“I-I have waited! I have been faithful! I gave my blood to pervert their rituals! I called you! I serve, I serve, I serve! My life is, it has always been, yours!”

Roleplaying / A Believer in Rines
« on: September 07, 2018, 01:33:43 PM »
Roleplay from Apostate
Message sent to everyone in Rines (12 recipients) - just in
Alone and forgotten, Apostate sat in a polished alcove. He was hopelessly lost in the Basilica and too proud to ask for assistance. He sat, basically sulking. He had failed. By sleeping in. He was ashamed.

The song. He heard it again. Loud and clear, boring into his skull. He got up. He followed its command.

It led him out. To the streets. He roamed as the sing willed, into an alley. Turn. He complied. And there it was, a beam of light emitting from the “Holy” Basilica. He had been given another chance. Absentmindedly, he reached for his dagger. Pain blossomed across his left palm. He droned prayers that he had not said in years. Words of the Gods taught by a greater man.

Halfway through praising the last Lord on the list, Akkan, the believer was crippled by a coughing fit. He doubled over, blood flowing from his mouth and nose. He straightened himself, wiping the blood from his face and beard as best he could.

“From the sacrifice of lifeblood unto a the salvation of a damned world, we bring the Truth, the Hope of Man, the acknowledgment of something greater. From the pain of the blade we call upon you to open the Veil, so that the Truth may spread and those who choose to remain in Ignorance may burn.”

Roleplaying / Apostate’s daze
« on: May 04, 2018, 01:50:04 PM »
After being thrown into a tree by Erasmus.

Roleplay from Apostate
Message sent to everyone in the region Avengmil (22 recipients)
Apostate gasped with pain as he awoke, head exploding. He groaned as he felt around the back of his head, searching for the source of the white-hot pain. His fingers touched something wet. He staggered to his feet, gripping his staff. His vision was blurred and tinted with red. He stumbled forward and nearly fell.

Awkwardly and mumbling incoherently he took a few more steps, dazed. His staff saved him from falling, barely. Ahead was a large tent, he took another step.

The next step had him fall to the ground. Pain exploded in his head again and he cried. Blinking away the red, he saw more clearly. He saw the low dancing of a flame. He smelt death, smoke, burning flesh. He heard steel on steel. The sounds of war.

He rose to his feet, nearly falling again. He continued to the large tent, pawing at the chest of his robes. He mumbled.

“Gythrul, Gythrul...”

Roleplaying / Throwing off the Inquisition
« on: May 02, 2018, 03:30:55 PM »
Roleplay from Apostate   (6 minutes ago)
Message sent to everyone in "Heralds of Obeah " (27 recipients)
Apostate cursed as the guards threw him to the ground. Begrudgingly, he picked himself up and walked to the Temple of Obeah. Scribbling his name in the Book of Names, he marched off to Avengmil.

After five hours on the road and a quick hunt he had arrived at his hut. It was near the Northern Hills, on the fringes of society. It suited him well. His position also allowed him ample opportunity to spy on the Attano Manor.

The hut, like its owner, was in a sorry state. A section of reed roof had fallen in, the hole patched with a spare tent. A weed choked garden sat by the door. Inside was a dusty, smoky mess. A pot of day old stew boiled over a campfire, a chair by it. Two tables were in the room, one for carcasses and the other stocked with old cutlery and plates. Three full kegs of beer sat upon it as well, tankards cluttered near them. The back wall had a hammock tied to it, also an extra tent. Odds and ends were littered around the hut, old books and interesting baubles. Herbs hung from the rafters amid potential spell components, items which were in reality useless to all but the wisest sages.

Apostate set the fawn carcasses upon the bloodied table, the smaller of the two he prepared the meat for the stew and set the other parts aside to be readied for the market.

He unstrapped his staff and bow from his pack, setting them by the door.

Hours later he had completed his toil. From the mouth of a hill cave hung bone chimes and scriptures made from deerskin. The skull hung morbidly above the macabre decorations. Inside, three bedrolls, discarded supplies, a crude Daimon Idol and a roaring campfire. He was pleased, this would serve as a nice distraction for his true endeavour.

Using his skill as a hunter, the disheveled former priest made his way to his hut. It would take time for the rumours of a cult base in the hills to pop up, but he was patient. Contentedly, he served himself up venison stew, his first hot meal in weeks.

Roleplaying / The Daughter
« on: April 19, 2018, 11:12:05 AM »
Mercy cocked her head to the side. She was an inch shorter than her father, standing at 5’ 7”, she had her father’s dark eyes and hair, but not his fair complexion. She had been told her tan skin was her mother’s, a woman from the deserts surrounding Tahgalez. She was supposedly an influential noble. Mercy didn’t care for that right now, she was focused on the present and the strange man sitting in her parlour.

He said he was twenty. He looked to be much older. His skin was a little darker than hers, his white robes were tattered and dusty, exposing an old brand on his chest that depicted an eye. His face, what was visible behind an unkempt and ragged beard, was disheveled. Heavy bags hung under his tired green eyes. His hands clutched a gnarled wooden staff.

“You are telling me that my father was resurrected by a Daimon and then literally walked into Hell?” She asked, her voice cold. The man sitting across from her nodded meekly. “You expect me to believe that?” He nodded again. “Who are you?”

“My Lady,” He began, his voice dry. “I was a priest in service to your father, The Last Tongue of The Gods.”

Mercy laughed coldly. “Don’t give me that Last Tongue crap. I don’t care if he was the leader of a cult.”

The man started to shake his head but the look in Mercy’s eye stopped him. “I am here to tell you that you are now head of your household here. I understand you are heading for Avengmil, no? Near the border to Ardmore there is a cache, marked by a lone tree, dead and split in twain. It has the answers to—“

“No.” Mercy flatly stated. She pointed to the door. The man promptly stood up and left. She shook her head.

Time to introduce herself.

Apostate sat by his tent in Avengmil, eating last night’s soup. The daughter would not listen, but he was persistent. The legacy of the Last Tongue must go on.

Roleplaying / Blizzard of Light - Ardmore Portal Event
« on: April 18, 2018, 11:01:58 PM »
Blizzard of Light   (just in)
message to everyone in the vicinity of Ardmore
With the portal stones set deep underground, the earth had been pierced with the beam of light. With Erasmus' ritual underway for several days, the earth began to rumble, collapsing the flimsy peasant hovels. Nearby, humans had fought unnatural creatures upon trembling ground.

But now, in the dead of night, all intensified. The buzzing and crackling that accompanied portal light beams shifted into the pounding of wardrums, deafening all else. What had been merely a shaking ground now erupted into a full earthquake within Ardmore, collapsing monster dens. Which just so happened to release Jessica and Tom from their rogue imprisonment. The normally pure white beam of light darkened to a crimson red.

Deep underground, visible only to Erasmus, the ring of portal stones had lifted from where they had been set and rotated from horizontal to vertical. Within the circle, a portal to another world became visible. Several flashed by, fertile lands of green, black endless emptiness, pastel wonderlands.

Yet when Erasmus dramatically completed his esoteric ritual, the world beyond flashed into a hellish nightscape that swirled with black smoke. One could nearly smell the acrid air, when a claw shot forth from beyond, followed by a flaming foot. Erasmus dropped to his knees when a daimon stepped forth. Placing a claw upon the chest of Usul and Gythrul, daimonic words spoken, their eyes widened awake. Stepping back, the daimon admired his work as the two arose once more.

Above, unaware of the horrors occurring beneath their feet, many rejoiced at the cessation of the intolerably-deafening wardrums, that had occurred once the daimon had crossed over into Beluaterra. However, Arterius, Divus, and Vahanian failed to rejoice upon realizing they were permanently deaf to all sound. More visibly comforting, the light column had lightened from crimson to a relaxing blue hue, calming the panicked wildlife, and then back to its typical pure white. Yet not all was over yet, as without warning the light column exploded outward, forming a whiteout blizzard of lightflakes upon all in the region. Even that didn't seem all that bad however when the wounded discovered that they were not only healed, but felt a bit more youthful as well.

Back deep underground, none had spoken since Usul and Gythrul had risen. Inspecting them as one might expect a military doctor inspects a recruit, the daimon then, without a word, turned towards the portal. Usul and Gythrul followed, seemingly understanding that they were to follow the daimon back into the Netherworld to retire, being no more for this world. As they crossed into the portal and their new afterlife amongst daimonkind, the portal snapped shut, the portal stones having poofed into dust clouds that now floated to the ground.

It was now that the whiteout lightflake blizzard aboveground abruptly ceased, plunging Ardmore back into night's darkness. Except shortly, it was realized that it was not merely night's darkness that blocked their sight, but that Astros, Jessica, Jorvik, Lyndis, Radzik, and Serena found themselves permanently blinded from the intense light-blizzard they had just survived.

Roleplaying / Service for Usul
« on: April 07, 2018, 09:05:11 AM »
Roleplay from Gythrul Attano
all nobles of Obia'Syela
Gythrul inclined his head as the black robed figure barred the basement door. “As you commanded,” the figure said, “the manor is empty. All the servants have been sent off for the day.” Gythrul nodded, satisfied. He was at his city quarters in Rines. The servants had been sent off under the pretence that their lord wished to be alone while he grieved. It was true, partly.

The one who had barred the door joined the the other five men before Gythrul. The basement’s heating forge was burning, making the basement, and the manor above, uncomfortably warm for this time of year.

Gythrul instructed the six men to kneel before turning. In the alcove in front of him was a small wooden totem. It was small enough to be carried in one hand, and was carved with Daimonic faces and symbols. He was disgusted that the ceremony was all that Usul would receive. A follower of Daishi would try to kill him, disregarding the fact that no temples of that faith existed in Obia’Syela. And no Obian would honor him.

The Wraith kneeled and bowed his head.

“Akkan. Jomorosh. Jactosh. Domina.” He rasped, the men behind repeating after him in unison. “Lords of the Netherworld, true rulers of Beluaterra, bringers of Truth. Hear the plea of the faithful. One of our comrades, Usul Soul, has fallen. We ask that you return his soul to us, or grant his servants the power to do so. If not, reforge his soul, make it something stronger, greater.” the Wraith raised his head and stared at the totem, the carvings appearing to shift. “And send him back to us when the Portals open.” Gythrul stood back up and turned to his followers.

“Truth guide him.” They echoed his words.

Gythrul turned and took the totem. He tapped it against his mask before casting it into the fire.

An hour later, he sat in his study. Like the rest of the manor, it was sparsely decorated, only a few bookshelves and two chairs by a fireplace were there.

Like during his service, he sat there in his plate armour and mask. He waited.

Other Games / Warhammer 40k/Age of Sigmar
« on: December 23, 2017, 03:26:27 PM »
Amy other Warhammer players out here? If so, what armies? Thoughts on Age of Sigmar and Dark Imperium?

Roleplaying / Gythrul's Ressurection
« on: December 23, 2017, 07:32:54 AM »
Gythrul gasped as he opened his eyes. He lay nude on a stone slab, all around him were black robed people. He was in a stone room with little light.

"My Lord." One of the robed people said, their voice gravelly and unnatural.

"Where?" Gythrul questioned before a light filled his mind.

An hour, maybe two pasted before Gythrul opened his eyes again.

"You." He said, pointing to the robed figure he had spoken to earlier. He noticed the person was holding a book.

"I assume you did this?"

The person bowed his head. "WE did. We have raised you."

Gythrul nodded. "Prepare a bath." He ordered.

He rose from the bloody bath tub and gazed and his hands, cleaned of flesh. His eye sockets burned with green witchfire. He turned to one of his robed attendants. "Burn my organs."

The skeleton that was Gythrul stood in the armoury of his Castle. The castle he ruled from when he lorded over the region. He commanded his cultists to put on a suit of plate armour.

The steel was darkened. The armour was relatively plain save for a golden Daemonic eye motif on the chest piece.

Gythrul let his cultists place and burial shroud around his shoulders and he drew up its hood.

He placed a broadsword in his scabbard.

He had returned.

Roleplaying / Aria's Arrival
« on: August 23, 2017, 09:35:56 AM »
A ship sailed into the port of Xavax. It bore the style of the West, of Dwilight. It's inventory contained luxury items and pelts only found in that untamed land.

And one very angry woman.

Aria Lucchesi Attano, sister of Corvo Attano. Stepped off the boat with as much poise as her shaking legs could muster. She was clad in plate armour and bore an armet. She had no shield, but proudly displayed the Attano heraldry on the surcoat thrown over the Western plate.

She had been in Xavax once before, a few years ago, and so knew her way from the docks to the Eyrie.

And that was her destination.

Roleplaying / Corvo's Execution
« on: August 20, 2017, 01:36:23 PM »
Dawn, that was when he was to be executed. The first rays of light beamed into his cell. Corvo's breath came ragged. Dull the pain my ass he thought as he remembered the warhammer shattering his kneecap. The guards escorted him to the headsman' block in Castle Ubent. Corvo looked at the crowd, his mask hiding the pain across his features. Executor Chester Barret gave some speech about laws. Corvo didn't really care, the pain numbed most of his mind, the few moments of perfect clarity he had were filled with sadness. Sadness for Xavax, sadness for his parents.

And sadness for his sister.

At least the Executor's sword was quick and clean.


Aria sat at her desk in her tent, still wearing her plate armour. She was reading the morning's letters and reports when a servant came in.

"M'lady, a letter has come from the East. The messenger mentioned Sir Corvo Attano." He said.

She was ecstatic, the last time she had heard from her brother was a feast he had setup the night before she left for Dwilight.

"Thank you, you are dismissed." She said. The servant left the tent.

The letter bore an odd seal, one of a fox. She wracked her brain, unsure of what family used a fox seal.

Vix Tiramora. She remembered now. It was confusing for Corvo to send a letter from there. To her knowledge, he had always been loyal to Greater Xavax.

She opened it and starting reading aloud.

"Viscountess Aria Lucchesi Attano, per request of your brother, we regret to inform you of his execution for..... what?"

She was confused. Corvo? Dead? Then the grief hit her. She buried her head in her amoured hands. Dead?

She picked the letter back up crying.

...execution for criminal acts.

She couldn't read the rest. Tears blurred her vision. Anger burned in her heart. Someone will pay.

As the title says.

Title: Infiltrator Regional Influence Lowering
Summary: Basically allow infiltrators to lower realm control/loyalty in a region by killing influential peasants.
Details: What this is intended to do is make infiltrators deadlier political tools. In the 'Infiltrate' menu, they get an option to lower a regions loyalty/sympathy to any realm on the continent by assaulting a list of peasants. This would be based on the actual sympathy/loyalty values. If Realm A has a lot of influence on Region A, Realm B has average, and Realm C has low, an Infiltrator would have different options to lower loyalty/sympathy.

The following options would be available based on loyalty/sympathy values in quarters (25% for option 1, 50% for option 2, etc):
Popular Farmer - Risk: Low
Will remove at maximum 10% loyalty/sympathy.

Notable Merchant - Risk: Medium Low
Will remove at maximum 20% loyalty/sympathy.

Wealthy Merchant - Risk: Medium
Will remove at maximum 40% loyalty/sympathy.

Minor Noble - Risk High
Will remove at maximum 80% loyalty/sympathy.

These options would be available in ALL regions except capitals. I will leave it up to the debs to decide the actual risk vs skill formula IF this is approved.

Each region, the infiltrator would get a dropdown menu of every realm that has a loyalty/sympathy affect on that region.

Just like assaults, there is a chance the target will survive based on skill vs risk. If the target survives, there is a 50% chance that region loyalty/sympathy would instead be boosted.

When the target is attacked, a regional report message will be sent, saying something along the lines of: 'A minor noble was killed in (region name). The guards have no suspects but it was made clear the murder was based upon the noble's supportive views towards (realm name).'

This would obviously be subject to change based upon the target, the outcome and whether or not the infiltrator was captured.

Benefits: This would make infiltrators more akin to the assassins they are supposed to be, and open up renevues of warfare and gameplay.

Possible Downsides or Exploits: Not that I could think of. We already have regions rebelling of their own accord, this would simply make infiltrators a more powerful force.

Roleplaying / An Assasin's Life
« on: May 28, 2017, 02:54:29 PM »
Roleplay from Corvo Attano
all nobles of Greater Xavax
Corvo geared up in his tent. Light leather armour covered his body and beneath it were black clothes. He checked his belt, making sure he had all his equipment. Satisfied, he put on his mask and turned to the tent entrance.

It was dawn, and Lord Corvo had explicitly requested all reports to be delivered to him at dawn and dusk, so Captain Chinote Honada began her walk to his tent, papers in hand. "My Lord, the reports." She said as she entered the tent. "My Lord, may I inquire as to where you are going?"

"Put the reports on the desk and prepare the men to reinforce the market square." Corvo ordered as he continued exiting.

"As you wish, My Lord, but where are you going?" She pressed, hoping for an answer.

"Hunting." He said.

Corvo swiftly moved through the camps, arriving at a building. He had ordered his men to stack some crates in a stair like formation at the wall facing his tent. He tested their strength, pushing down firmly with one hand. There was no give, and he climbed up.

Corvo had been sneaking through the settlement for the better part of an hour, looking for lazy bandit soldiers. Not the dogs of Alara or Minas Nova, but peasants stealing, murdering and taking advantage of the regional chaos. Finally he found two, wearing padded armour and using pitchforks as weapons, talking.

"Did ya hear tha boss has a deal with a litel band ta deal with tha Zavacks?" One of them idly said.

"He wot?" The other asked.

"Yah, a deal a betta equipd band to kill them Fenix-undead-lich bastards." The original speaker informed his fellow.

Corvo shook his head and sprinted from cover, coming behind the original speaker and slitting his throat. He unceremoniously cast the body aside as he lunged at the one, grasping his shoulder and pulling him in as he thrust with his sword.

The blade went clean through the bandit's sternum to the hilt. He gave a shocked gasp when the cross guard hit his chest. Corvo drew his sword from the dead man, his body falling to the ground.

"This is my life now." Corvo said, no hint of remorse in his voice as he looked at his bloodied blade.

Another hour of sneaking around rewarded Corvo when he found a group of three more bandits drinking and laughing around a fire. He studied them for about a minute. They were drunk, lazy and off guard. The time was now.

They, like the first group, barely had time to registered the attack before one of them died, Corvo's blade stabbed through his back. Corvo removed it from the bandit and slashed to his right, slitting the second bandits throat.

The third had drunk less then his friends and drew a sword of his own, stolen from an abandoned manor. He struck at this masked assasin, hoping to kill him. Corvo blocked the downwards slash with the flat of his blade, supporting it by placing this hand on the flat near the tip.

Corvo kicked at the bandit, landing a boot in his crotch. The bandit dropped his sword and fell to his knees in pain. Corvo swiftly stabbed him in the back.

Job completed, Corvo returned to the Xavax camps.

What it says in the title. Occasionally I play on the shared computer my brother mainly plays on.

Pages: [1] 2 3