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Roleplaying / Oddities of Oc Lu Pesh (Spontaneous Xavax RP)
« on: January 11, 2016, 06:44:23 AM »
So, I accidentally did what I always do and turned a short message into a series of posts. I had waaay too much fun with this one. :)

Enjoy Magnus being a usual cryptic pain in the ass, and then, well, the infamous Au'ruin rage comes out.


The humble manor of Oc Lu Pesh, so recently reclaimed then subsequently abandoned by Perleone, bears a splendor and spirit renewed in light of Countess Jacqueline's diligent effort and masterful injection of skilled investment. Magnus, cloaked in dynastic crimson, trimmed of midnight, presents the royal seal and is welcomed discretely by her grizzled guards-captain. Surely he wonders why the Xerarch of Xavax wishes to enter Oc Lu Pesh seemingly alone and unannounced - his seventy elite snipers posted outside the walls in well-hidden copses, reinforcing the city guard without their faintest knowledge. Rumor shall fly, yet as always, the truth would soon be set free.

The trunk-stiff captain of the city guard salutes and offers to personally escort Magnus - honor-guard in tow - yet he declines.

"Hail and well met, Xerarch-King Aurea of Xavax! I, and the best men Oc Lu Pesh have to offer, would be honored to escort you to the Manor proper, if it so pleases you."

Magnus smiles, appreciative of the captain's fervor and duty, all the while shaking his head.

"Please, call me Magnus. If you prefer formality, Xerarch will do."

The Captain's eyes widen momentarily, obviously unaccustomed to a King who doesn't announce his entry, declines fanfare, and foregoes an honor-guard, and asks to be called by his given name. Then again, the Xerarch is no standard King, nor Xavax your typical realm. Not wishing to forsake duty and take an unnecessary risk, he postures himself and rephrases the request.

"With all due respect, Xerarch Magnus, are you sure? Surely you do not wish to bear the full protection of the guard?"

Magnus claps the captain on the back in a friendly manner, grinning throughout - his identity yet hidden from the curious guardsmen a short distance away. A well-tailored cloak and quiet exchange of words work blessed wonders toward guarding one's identity.

"My sincerest thanks, Captain, but if I am not safe within the borders of Xavax, then I - and our people - have not done Xavax honor. I humbly request three guardsmen, preferably among your most novice, to escort me to the hall of the Comtesse. I do not wish to trouble you and deprive the guard of its best men. This will be a good opportunity to inspect your newest guardmen - such recruits are the future warriors of Xavax: I would not see them deprived of an opportunity to learn and gain respect."

The Captain salutes, clicks his heels, and breaches the distance between Magnus cloaked and the gatehouse of piled stone and well-cut lumber.

"As you command, Lord Xerarch."

"Aurmand, Jean, Sebastian, please escort our esteemed guest to Countess Coquard's manor at once. Guard him as you would your own mother and son. I trust you understand the importance of this task? This is no mere merchant bearing grain manifests like the last, but the Xerarch of Xavax. There, in the crimson cloak. You know what to do. Bring honor to Oc Lu Pesh, and perhaps this will be your first step toward promotion..."

Three wide-eyed recruits veritably trip over each other in grinning salute. Despite their over-eagerness and relative inexperience, they march toward Magnus in expert unison - displaying a measure of proper technique and appreciable fervor toward the seriousness of their given charge. Side-by-side they salute Magnus, confused as to why they heard no fanfare over the King's approach.

Aurmand stands slightly closer to Magnus, his companions imperceptibly at his flanks by a centimeter alone - obviously senior among the three, if Magnus' grasp of common psychology is yet worth a damn.

"King-Xerarch of Xavax, we are honored to serve. Please be wary - Oc Lu Pesh borders Ibladesh, Leibo, and Mines of Isadril. As the ice retreats, more and more foreigners enter the region by day and night. Priests, merchants, and possibly infiltrators walk among us. All the more, wee will guard you with our very lives, if need be."

Magnus chuckles at the recruits' attempt to impress him with their knowledge, nods, and smiles once more.

"Very good. I could not ask for a better triad. Speaking of: shall we adopt a Trinity Bulwark formation, considering our numbers?"

Jean and Sebastian display a bit of confusion at the Xerarch's request, earning a stern yet humbly understanding leer from Aurmand as he steps forward to address the request.

"Apologies, Xerarch, my companions are fresh recruits from the local villages. They've yet to learn the history of such antiquated, yet efficient tactics. Jean, Sebastian, take up flank, I'll man the front - keep the Xerarch covered at all times and your eyes on a swivel - you need but a single poison arrow to fell a man from afar."

Somewhat embarrassed, the two position themselves as rear-guard while Aurmand skillfully navigates Magnus up the winding road toward the Manor of Oc Lu Pesh. Upon arrival, Aurmand nods toward the Manor Guards mid-stride - who swiftly lay open the great oaken doors for entry.

Once inside, Aurmand raises his left fist - ordering his men to a halt. Satisfied that all is well, he addresses Magnus with a whisper.

"My King, do you wish your arrival announced, or...?"

Magnus frowns and sets a hand upon the young man's shoulder.

"No, that will not be necessary. The news I bring must be delivered discretely. Let the Comtesse address it as she desires, once all is said and done. Thank you for your service. I shall go alone from here. Remain within, I will not be long."

Aurmand salutes - fellow guardsmen following his example - taking position at opposing ends of the Manor hall.

Magnus enters the hall of the Comtesse in silence, attempting to call little attention to himself as he patiently awaits Lady Jacqueline to finish addressing a group of scribes and local merchants.

"I may be old, but I am not blind. State your business, stranger."

Ah, right... Countess Coquard has yet to meet the Xerarch in person. This may prove interesting.

"My humblest apologies for the unannounced disturbance, Countess Coquard of Oc Lu Pesh. I bring news of personal import from Duke Percival Prestongreen of Hamadan. I did not wish to dispatch a messenger - such things are best communicated in person, and I happened to be surveying the borders when the initial missive reached me. I hope I have not arrived at an inconvenient moment. I see you are otherwise occupied. Shall I return at a better time...?"

Slightly annoyed at the seemingly-random stranger's intrusion, Countess Jaqueline eyes the midnight-crimson cloak with curiosity.

"A name would help in determining whether that will be necessary."

Magnus grins toothily as his little game of subterfuge draws to an end. He draws back the crimson hood to reveal a lengthy mane of midnight black, betwixt whose tresses peer the blazing emerald eyes of a proud young warrior and Speaker of the Phoenix Kin. The Royal emblem of the Phoenix of Xavax Resplendent now lies visible, sewn unto the interior fold of his cloak in preparation for precisely such occasion. A number of the scribes leer unappreciatively at the supposed interruption, yet fail to note the royal seal for all its import. Magnus grins, playing his final card - hoping for a desirable reaction.

"I thought it best to rid us of the customary fanfare and embarked upon a bit of innocent subterfuge. The cloak is one my mother once wore during her moonlit meetings with my father, neither of which yet live to recall the memories imbued upon aging crimson thread - which I now bear as the mark of a gentle yet ferocious beast we all endear and revere alike. Apparently, it has become somewhat of a trademark. I thought you might recognize me. You are quite the observant woman, though I'll admit these circumstances are odd and my intent precisely to confuddle.  No? Nothing?"

A corpulent beast of a man, trailing spittle with every vile word, breaks off from his pitiful attempts at stronghanding the well-worn and wise Countess in a unilateral trade agreement to supply much-needed grain at a ridiculous price - angered by the perceived interruption to the apex of his "spirited negotiation" - half-drunkenly bellows out before Lady Jacqueline can answer the stranger's cryptic babble with an equally annoyed yet far less callous response. The other merchants keep their mouths shut, knowing full well the vile reputation of this particular bastard of a man.

"Tell th'Lady ye' damn name, pass on th'bloody misshive, and get th'hell out. Who do y'think y'are? No one gives a damn'f ye' whore mother, y'little bastard! Y'aint even Xavax, or the Lady would'v recognized'ye! Not that't means a damn thing, though I do enjoy t'mint o'yer coin w'that ridiculous red bird on't. N'less ye' here t'offer trade, ye'd best conclude yer business an'depart, foreigner. We don'like ye'fancy fas'talking kind here."

A particular vein visibly pulses on Magnus' forehead - a hereditary "charm" of the Au'ruin dynasty they endearingly call the "Pulse of the Blood Tide:" often marking the moment when an Aurea is likely to murder an entire group of people in a fit of ungodly rage.

His right cheek twitching as he grinds his teeth together, Magnus exhales deeply and collects his thoughts, lest he make a rightful royal ass out of himself by sullying his heirloom cloak with the blood of some pitiful peasant trader.

"I'll have you know, oh corpulent behemoth, you fairly laughable excuse for a negotiator, if you undipped your petulant hawk-nose from the stock of piss-poor grain-distilled bile you call alcohol, that ridiculous red bird is the glorified Phoenix of Xavax- royal emblem, symbol of the birth of an empire, and the revered spirit of the realm whose temporary starvation you so virtuously attempt to profit from. If you had two bent coppers to rub together, and perhaps spent less effort self-indulging and more on garnering a bit of information on your proposed trade partners, you'd know that."

In sheer surprise, the merchant's servant-girl all but drops the man's serving tray of tarnished silver - sending his gaudy imitation goblet crashing down in a disharmonious cacophony of shattered fragments. The merchant, his ego as large as the veritable wine cask of a belly he sports, likewise as lengthy as his seven visible chins, turns to backhand-slap the servant-girl with enough force to overpower the remnant echoes of singing glass - the combined sound of impact and the subsequent cry of pain all too much for Magnus to bare.

"Ye' littl'hore! I smuggled enough weapons t'arm th'damn continent twice over to afford that Sirion crystal set! An'I paid good money fer ye' an'ye Perleon' mother too! Ye' best clean tha'mess an'ready ye'self, !@#$, cause I'm gonna teach both of ye'little something 'bout how ta' keep still when ordered to! "

Satisfied with his disgusting display of perceived superiority, the colossal drunkard draws a laughable dagger and proceeds to wave it - drunkenly - toward Magnus, bellowing further threats and idiocy.

"You! Ye'!@#$! Thinkin' yer high'n mighty wit'ye big words an' crock'o bullsh't! I'll tear tha'misshive out'yer bloody 'ands an' shove it down ye'throat for what ye'said!"

Slow and certainly not steady, the drunken excuse for a tradesman plods toward Magnus - dagger in hand - as Magnus subtly hears Aurmand slip through a crack in the chamber door to investigate.

Magnus gives Aurmand a single piercing glare - to which he raises an eyebrow and backs off - standing in the shadows beside the once-again closed chamber door, his blade at the ready.

As the colossus of fuming lard steps close enough to waft his putrid breath upon his adversary, Magnus drops down on his right hand - his left leg sweeping the towering behemoth's legs out from under him. A satisfying crash resounds through the chamber as Magnus springs up to draw the twin blades hidden beneath his cloak: both of which whose edges lay a fraction of a milimeter from the tradesman's crotch and equally useless throat.

"...And my Mother, for the record, was no whore. She was a Republican ruler, grand marshal of the Phantarian Pride, and a woman of more honor than you will ever look upon! If you DARE open your mouth once more in disrespect, I'll CUT out that flapping cancerous tongue and have it sewn to where your severed manhood once was - then see you fat flaming ass rolled down the flanking walls of Isadril. If you roll fast enough, perhaps I might fish you out and quarter you, though letting the beasts devour your charred, rotting filth in the sea would likely be a more noble end."

With good reason, Countess Coquard looks utterly furious at the insanity before her, caused - in part - by the presence of this unknown nameless stranger.


Jean, Sebastian, and the Manor Guards storm into the chamber in unison, though Aurmand quickly signals for them to lay down their arms. Seeing this, Countess Coquard seems even more confused, though in moments her worries are relieved. Aurmand steps forward to address the stranger and Countess alike.

"Countess Coquard, my apologies. We should have come sooner. I was watching from the back, under direct order. My Lord, I witnessed the entire thing - what do you wish done with the tradesman?"

Magnus looks down, fuming with rage, and reluctantly sheathes his blades. He places his right foot firmly on the man's stomach, pressing down with all of his weight, and says:

"By the will of Xavax, as Speaker of the Phoenix Kin, I - Xerarch Magnus Aurea - place you under arrest for the crimes of treason, attempted murder of a royal, corruption, slander, smuggling, and last but not least, slavery. I'll have you know that slavery is illegal in Xavax: as such, I hereby relinquish you of your wealth, earned by the spilling of innocent blood and likely strong-arming local farmsteads with your disgusting tactics, to be dispersed among your victims. You will rot in the royal dungeons until little remains of your girth but a set of ribs protruding from your emaciated corpse  - a far kinder fate than what I would wish upon you. You are FILTH and you shall suffer as your kind deserves!"

An odd trickling sound is heard nearby. The guards and guests alike look for the source, but Magnus already knows. Moments later, the stench of piss wafts up from the merchant's soiled trousers as he begins to sob like a child - his magnanimous self-righteous ego come crashing aground as a number of the assembled dare emit a veiled chuckle.

Aurmand leans to utter a humorous whisper into the ear of Magnus, helping to disarm his anger.

"Thank you. We've been wanting to do that for weeks now."

Magnus is incapable of his typical smiles and grins - the Blood Tide yet ringing strong within his heart and mind. He nods sternly, watches the guards remove the winded bastard and the remaining guests, and addresses the Countess.

"My sincerest apologies, Countess Coquard. I did not expect such things to occur. If you were indeed intent on purchasing stock from that cur, I will personally pay for whatever pillaged grain that excuse for a man had promised to sell you. I come bearing ill news, I'm afraid. Please, this is for you."

Without further ado, Magnus hands over a letter from Duke Percival Prestongreen, stamped with the crimson seal of Xavax - marking it received by the royal scribes and thus the Xerarch himself.

Letter from Percival Prestongreen   (3 hours, 52 minutes ago)
Royal Magnus,

Welcome to the East Isle and congratulations on your Realm. I know little of you personally, but your name was sent to me from my brother, Milan, Duke of Cagil. Both he and his wife perished as Atamara sunk.

I understand his wife's sister is of your Realm. Jacqueline, I think. Please pass my respects to here for her loss.

If I can be of any assistance, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Best Regards,
Percival Prestongreen
Duke of Hamadan
Margrave of Hamadan

"On behalf of the Xavax, and the Au'ruin dynasty of which I hail, I offer our humblest condolences for this incredible loss.  In the end of days, I'd like to believe they gave their lives for Atamara with a smile - hands clasped in unison, content in the knowledge that they'd watched over the rise and fall of an empire and done the best they could to see it prosper."

East Island / Xavax Imperium
« on: January 05, 2016, 02:11:13 PM »
Posting here to answer any questions you folks may have regarding the Xavax. :) Been quite the interesting experience so far. Definitely my most entertaining in BM to this day.

Helpline / RESOLVED: Emigrated an adv. to bring another into EC
« on: December 30, 2015, 07:15:23 AM »
So I moved Arhlix to Colonies so I can bring my oldest advie, Johaan Thorbrandr, to EC, as he found the "Ducal Band of Atamara," a relic that made him want to join the Atamaran refugees in EC and aid them in their reconquest of destiny.

I was perfectly fine with an advie and noble there, and now the game says I can't emigrate my advie to EC.

What the hell? I even waited as the damn ticker said "You will arrive next turn" for far more than ONE turn, only to be denied?

What gives?

Beluaterra / Riombara: Schoolyard bullies and tyrants beware!
« on: December 30, 2015, 07:08:13 AM »
...In the wake of mind-numbing arguments and a near-infinite cascade of some of the !@#$tiest behavior I have EVER witnessed in the political scene, echoing the utterly disgraceful ignorance and loathing displayed in the American Republican pre-elections, and you all know exactly what I'm talking about, Mr. Trump - and his douchebag opponents too - I channeled the personality of my lvoely Khets'aein and spoke exactly what she would wish to say upon witnessing the absolutely horrendous atmosphere currently at play in Riombara.

I LOVED Riombara on my old character, years ago before I quit. I brought Khets'aein there expecting the amazing realm I left when I was hospitalized for months, only to find a completely ridiculous and utterly disgraceful mass-hysteria at play, wreaking havoc as the hordes murder by the hundreds.

Sorry if I offended, but it HAD to be said. If you all want to COMPLETELY destroy Riombara, the bravo - job well done. If your ambition is ANYTHING else, sorry to say, but you're DOING IT AAAAAAAAAAAALL WRONG.

I have led HUNDREDS of realms, alliances, clans, empires, guilds, coalitions, federations, what have you, in thousands of games over the last two decades. What I'm seeing in Riombara today is not the worst, but on the path to it. If you folks don't get your !@#$ straight both IC and OOC, Riombara will be naught but a baked carcass, pecked upon by carrion as the sun cooks the maggots stirring in her once-supple flesh. A feast for the dead and dying.

I had to split it into multiple messages. I've posted it here as a single message for the sake of sanity and cohesion.

Enjoy it, hate it, complain, report me, do what you wish: but all that I said was done in-character, from precisely the perspective of my character, and quite honestly, they're her words - not mine. I was planning to have her be a rebellious assassin but, like with all my characters, she simply took on a life of her own.

Behold: Khets'aein Abheroth Aurea, the out-spoken bitch who you can always trust to speak her honest mind.

Request from Khets'aeïn Äbheroth Aurea   (just sent)
message to all nobles of Riombara

Each and every one of you, this bickering must end or it will destroy Riombara.

Hear me and listen to the perspective of a neutral party.

Of the 27 noble dynasties in Riombara, only a select few - perhaps a dozen to a dozen-and-half - are capable of running for Ruler. Of those 10-15, many are content with the responsibilities entrusted to them and have no desire to rule. Of those who would like to rule for the good of the realm, a number dislike the increased responsibility and constant threat of outright hostility they've seen the prior ruler face on a regular basis. Of those unafraid, some may feel they lack the time, experience, or wisdom to lead. Those that feel they can handle it, are then cut down even further by myriad ambitions, desires, internal issues, faithful conviction, or their preference for a different title they'd much rather hold.

This leaves a very small, very particular niche of individuals as our likely pool for ruler election.

Each and every one of these individuals has seen the hounding of our former ruler and internalized it - mulling it over as one savors fine wine, or spits up the piss-poor moonshine of peasant stock. They have seen how necessary it is to defend one's self, and how the lowly tactic of slandering ones rivals is commonplace in modern-day Riombara. They see how the weak are hounded, the strong are attacked, and a stalwart defense is necessary to survive.

Frankly, what the hell do you expect when you create a hostile environment? For our future rulers to be silent in the face of conflict? To not speak out and voice their views in precisely the manner their own countrymen have seen fit to do?  If you sit idly in silence, a louder opponent will steal your votes. If you show force, chances are SOMEONE will respect you. If you fail to defend yourself, your rivals decry your lack of self-defense as a sign of weakness and inability to rule. Faction after faction jumps up for their thirty seconds of fame, for their chance to he the voice of reason or antagonize and put to light the perceived weakness of an adversary.

In the current political atmosphere, it is impossible to choose a ruler in truth. We are all jaded individuals with our own flaws, dreams, ambitions, fears, worries, and issues - but when we stop working toward progress, we open the floodgates of internal strife and decadence.

I'm pretty damn sure that if a judge put their foot down and declared insults and slander would result in disqualification from referendum, this childish death-cycle would come screeching to a halt. Then, of course, the more forceful arbiters of such aggression, already rooted in their ways by the very defensive nature of Man, would throw a fit... They'd then face a choice - shut their bloody mouths and act like civilized, adult, human NOBLES, or continue acting like a bunch of bickering peasant children beating each other with sticks over who gets to lead the next imaginary adventure.

Look at yourselves. Are you proud of what you see? Are the perceived differences in your political rivals worth lowering yourselves to such a level of indecency and disgrace? Have you no gods-damned SHAME!?

With every attack and smart-ass comment, bout of sarcasm, and self-righteous declaration, you belittle yourselves as nobility and RIOMBARA as a respectable nation.

Oh, how our enemies would LAUGH if they knew how the Riombaran creed has come crashing down!

As a child, I was told grand stories of the greatness of Riombara. Of its strength and virtue in the face of adversity. Its conviction, its determination, its ability to reshape itself and secure survival and stability for its people. I was tucked into bed to the sound of Riombaran war stories and heroic bellowings, of the tact and grace of a realm most honorable. As an adult, I studied its history and legacy, met the expatriate sons and daughters of its glorious dynasties, and saw - time after time - the beauty and splendor of Riombara would one day stand before me and I as its humble daughter.

What the HELL happened?

Its not about Duke versus Duke, its not about our former ruler, its not about gold, its not about power: its this cutthroat insanity, a burden of incessant anxiety you lot have placed upon yourselves. It is a CANCER that eats away the very foundation of Riombaran society, that threatens to topple something FAR greater men built with dignity, respect, diligence, virtue, blood, sweat, tears, and their very SOULS! In your self-righteous strife, in the self-serving decrepitude of your unwavering onslaught of insults resplendent, and the inordinate, wholesale inability for two people to sit down like grown adults and work out their differences without death threats and belittlement, you have SPAT upon the memory of Riombara. PISSED upon the sacred soils of its sovereignty. BURNED the glorious tapestry of beautiful history it once beheld. BURIED its sense of dignity and virtuousness in a grave of bile and hate.

Rulership be DAMNED! Unless you lot can pick up your britches and act like grown men, it doesn't matter who "gets the fancy title" and earns bragging rights. In your ignorant lack of civility, honor, and humility, you will continue to doom the nation by perpetuating the stagnant death-cycle of incessant argument and finger-pointing all the same. Shove your inflated egos back down your  bloated throats and GROW UP!


Not a SINGLE one of you, both the dukes AND those speaking out against them, are worthy of being honored citizens of Riombara.

Secession? Tyranny! Death threats! What are we, a bunch of god-damned BARBARIANS!?

You're like a bunch of school children who pull down each others pants for the glory of a quick laugh, not realizing - in the end- every single one of you look like idiots with your bare-asses exposed for all the world to see. You've made a mockery of everything that makes Riombara a place worth caring for.

If you refuse to hear it from your own countrymen due to whatever inane reasoning you summon up to glorify and justify your lack of decency, respect, and common courtesy, at least have the good grace to hear it from a complete stranger - more so, one who loves what Riombara ONCE WAS.

You have made a mockery of this beautiful nation, and were it not for the path I chose to walk, I'd run for election my damn self!

I see two choices here: either we disqualify all the dukes and let the remnants run, which really cuts the potential ruler pool down to a pitiful puddle, or you lot back down, swallow your tongues, deflate your egos, get off your high horses, stop trying to show off your fancy titles and tell us all about all the awesome things you claim you have or will do, stop trying to belittle your fellow COUNTRYMEN to a degree far worse than you'd do to actual ENEMIES of Riombara, put away your weapons, open your eyes, recall those virtuous faiths some of you supposedly take part in, pull up your big-boy pants and ACT LIKE GROWN MEN!

You're NOBLES, born of generations of diligent service, honorable fealty, heroic duty, faithful conviction, and reverence to national identity and the cultures that birthed you.

Stop disgracing your noble roots and spitting upon the graves of the cascade of better men who died to make YOUR LIFE POSSIBLE!

You think THIS is bad? You're welcome to pack your things and travel to a country of your choosing. I'd love to see how much your cry for the glory of Riombara then.

HOW am I to trust you to stand beside me in combat when I know the infantry line is split between 5 factions that would sooner kill EACH OTHER than the enemy who marches upon your shores and lays waste to everything we hold dear? How am I serve honorably if I fear an arrow or dagger in my back? How am I to trust YOU to rule and show grace and decency and good sense when you can't even keep your god damn mouth shut with dignity and a little self-respect?

You are the CANCER that weakens Riombara... But the path to redemption lies in forgiveness. In brotherhood. In agreeing to disagree.

Each and every one of us holds an opinion - born of our differing lives, divergent dynasties, conflicting passions, long-held dreams, fleeting ambitions, zealous conviction, a sense of righteous duty, a belief in undying loyalty. I understand that. I respect that.

What I, and quite obviously your fellow countrymen cannot respect is this absolutely horrendous cycle of he-said-she-said, of finger-pointing and blame-spouting and belittlement that DISGRACES every single citizen of Riombara with every spittle-flecked word forged in anger, fear, and misplaced aggression.

I speak to you now as a stranger. A neutral party. A newly-migrated Riombara expatriate. A lover of thy culture.

Lay down your arms. Put aside your anger. Recall what made you once love Riombara - the things that brought you happiness and tranquility, before this chaos did erupt and drag every single one of us kicking and screaming down to the most base level of inhuman barbarism born of strife.

You are the blood of Riombara. A million men lived and died to give you thy homes. Thy banners. Thy shields. Thy fiields. Thy dynasties. Thy very names.

Look upon yourselves. Do you see what you've become? Mere shadows of the men you were before. Enveloped by anger and greed, fear and ego, each of you desperately hoping the shape the future of Riombara yet seemingly helpless to shape your own reality first.

If you cannot get a grip on your own affairs, what right have you to lead a realm? Who are YOU to tell us how best to live our lives? How can you dare CONSIDER guiding a nation when you can't even begin to bridge the gap between its peoples? To mend aching old wounds? To stand up for what is right, no matter what the personal cost?

Remember what Riombara once stood for? That memory should be of a time less organized, less glorious, less mighty, less wondrous, less important than the present day. If you look back and thirst for what was, then quite obviously things took a turn for the worst at some point and, in your blindness, each and every one of you failed to see the truth of the matter.

These wounds must be healed. The bickering must be put to an end. This chaos shall end, or the thrice-damned sea-risen undead hordes will rightfully drag us back unto their deathly tombs, laughing as we sowed the seeds of our mutual annihilation.

Please. I will ask you this but once...

Just stop and listen. Riombara cries out in agony - she weeps as her children claw at each others' throats.

This madness must end if Riombara is to survive.

Just stop.

Khets'aeïn Äbheroth Aurea
Viscountess of Nemeno

Roleplaying / The Spirit of the Phoenix of Xavax
« on: December 20, 2015, 06:01:45 AM »
A loving friend, an animal companion I call family, passed away as I wrote an otherwise meaningless address regarding the abandonment of ineffective recruitment centers in the interests of raising only the finest soldiers for Greater Xavax. I accidentally turned it into a sort of eulogy to the lost, and a call for brotherhood, for honoring the dead and forging ahead to a newborn future of resounding glory. I feel it would be a fitting introduction to the spirit of our newborn realm, of the sort of thing you would come to expect if you happen to join us in the future.

Cheers, folks. I've got a grave to dig.

This is for you, Champion.

Sons and Daughters of Xavax,

Let us bridge an obstacle our military structure shall continue to face in its infancy. I could simply contact our Dukes and Lords, yes - but as a realm of survivors, of former Lords and Ladies, of Princes, of Empresses, of Dukes, of Generals, of Diplomats, of Priests, of Assassins, of Heroes, of Stewards... I believe the Xavax would benefit from open discourse.

As we begin the establishment of military might in the holdings of Xavax, we face a particular problem: recruitment centers. The fates tempt us with glorious hopes, yet so often we find our centers lacking in some vital facet. Be it expert training, superior weaponry, or stalwart defensive garb, there is usually a downside to the troops we recruit. In the long run, the unforeseen consequences of these integral weaknesses will compromise our ability to wage war. Will we face the armies of the world-at-large with an inferior breed of soldier? Will faulty weaponry weaken our charge? Will shoddy armor decimate our troops? Will inefficient training stir chaos among our ranks?

We face a choice in this day and age - before the mistakes of our administration manifest into a phantom that shall haunt us long into the coming years - to establish a proper foundation for the future conquerors of Xavax. To structure our military in the image of those great and glorious empires of old, or to forge a new path born of the just wisdom and hard-won conquests of those we call brother and sister - the echo of the divine righteousness of the Phoenix of Xavax - You.

I, Voice of Xavax, Xerarch of its people, chosen King of the Phoenix Kin, stand before you as an imperfect being: I am no wise scholar. I am no magnanimous conqueror. I am no economic genius. I am no paragon of justice. Most importantly, I am no God-King. The very same Spirit of the Phoenix that inflames me with passion, wisdom, patience, diligence, honor, duty, and confidence - that Spirit flows through each of you. The wisdom of the Xavax comes from your mind. Your experience. Your successes. Your failures. Your so very human imperfections - the very fabric of morality, of civility, of integrity we define as You - that is Xavax. THAT is what sustains us as a people.

It is not I who birthed the vision of the Spirit of the Phoenix, no - I am simply a vessel of its glorious charge. It is you, my brothers and sisters, honored children of the Phoenix, whose blood pounds and siphons from the heart of Xavax.

You are purpose. You are passion. You are duty. You are diligence. You are honor. You are righteousness.

Your vices and blunders, your hopes and desires, they are what fuel the Phoenix. You are the lifeblood, the sweat, the tears, the soul of Xavax.

I implore you, my brethren, to tear down your battered recruitment centers. Discharge your civilian mayors. Relinquish thy captains. Put aside every last remnant of the past and embrace our glorious future in the contrails of the Phoenix Ascendant. We are kin beyond blood -  survivors of the same cataclysmic womb that birthed our exodus.

Stand with me, Sons of Xavax. Daughters of the Phoenix. Expatriate Kin. Forsaken remnants of a dying age of reason.

Glance eastward, to the Rising Sun of Xavax - to the dawn of a new era - to the rebirth of our spirit - to the foundation of an empire.

We are Xavax! We are the successors to the bloated collapsing empires upon whose fetid corpse we shall tread evermore! From the bloodied carcass of chaos we shall cleave forth into the undying light! We will not sink quietly beneath the towering waves! We will not slumber when the call-to-arms and tolling bell resounds!

The Xavax will cleave this world asunder in righteous fury!

We are the damned! We are the fallen! We are final, true bastion of the old continental powers.

The Burning Legion of the Phoenix Kin of Xavax shall behold the glory of this world - tempered in our sacrifice.


Helpline / EMERGENCY - Possible Player Suicide - NEED HELP!
« on: December 16, 2015, 08:36:06 AM »
A player sent this message moments before deleting his account. If he's who I think he is, then he's the guy who nearly died in the '92 riots. :\

Please, if any of you are in Arizona or have access to Arizona authorities, please help us verify that he is okay. As someone who has struggled with suicide for many years, I have to make sure that our players are okay. Please, do what you can and let us know!

Out-of-Character from Kenley La Pointe   (39 minutes ago)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (50 recipients)
Battlemaster was his life.

Reginald Denny sat in his makeshift office, casually watching the Arizona sunset through his trailer window. Not more than a folding chair and table of plastic, with a seemingly ancient desktop computer sitting atop, arranged carefully to maximize his available space. He stretched his back and uttered a faint sigh; it had been a long day of work, but now he was done and back home. Reginald switched his computer on, patiently waiting. His monitor began to flicker as the low hum of his pc signaled the time was approaching. He smiled.

Work had been extraordinarily tough today. It seemed a never ending parade of issues, both major and minor, had cropped up in a project long overdue. "Goddammit. Just let me get this damn boat fixed." A small job he took over three weeks ago had turned into a nightmare. Reginald was skilled in boat repair, and really anything with his hands, however a lingering brain trauma made a simple step-by-step process incoherent. Completing crucial steps out of order unknowingly, he turned a minor leak into a half destroyed, half rebuilt monster. He knew his client would be extremely upset, and the fear was starting to paralyze him. He was in debt and this would surely ruin his business. But, that was not a concern for now. Time for Battlemaster.

As the login screen appeared, he excitedly cracked the knuckles of his damaged hands. Boat repair and maintenance was often no easy job, but these injuries were from decades ago. The scars from his hands reached up along his arms to his chest. From there, they spread like AIDS in West Hollywood, completely, across his entire face and body. He could feel the cold stares of people when he went out in public, in the normally upbeat, party/tourist town of Lake Havasu. So, he stopped going out, only for groceries and work. A sad life, but his and his alone, and through Battlemaster he found a small measure of joy in an otherwise empty existence.
Reginald Denny

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Out-of-Character from Kenley La Pointe   (39 minutes ago)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (50 recipients)
He saw his family page appear and took a deep breath. He had moves to make for his characters that he had planned for the past week; Reggie agonized over strategy and his attention to detail helped make many of his past goals in Battlemaster successful. Now it was time to see his latest plan through. Unfortunately for him, things would not go accordingly.

Aura, it was called by some. Anxiety, cold sweats, and the faint taste of metal. His mind began to float. Reginald knew this feeling well and knew it signaled an oncoming seizure. Epilepsy was another effect of the injuries he sustained long ago. The intersection of Florence and Normandie in Los Angeles flashed back to his vision as he lost control of his body. He saw four men approaching so he stopped his truck. He had no idea a riot was taking place. All Reginald knew was that he had a load to deliver in his dump truck, and he impatiently tapped the steering wheel as they approached. What could they want, he wondered. Maybe they'll explain why pedestrians had been throwing rocks at his truck moments earlier. Ripped from the driver's seat and thrown onto the rough, hot asphalt. One man held his head down with his foot as others took turns kicking him. He vaguely remembered a hammer impacting him repeatedly, but he no longer felt pain. He looked up and saw a man holding a fire extinguisher menacingly over him and he knew his life was finished. As he saw the pressurized metal cylinder fly out of one of his attacker's hands and towards his unprotected face, Reginald Denny was jolted back to present day reality. Aware, but unable to control his muscles, he looked at his computer screen. Dread fills his belly as he sees an unfamiliar page, the delete your family Battlemaster confirmation page. Just another 30 seconds and I'll be fine... He tried with all his might to throw himself to the floor, but to no avail. To his dismay, his flailing arms smashed into his keyboard, again and again. The seizure finished and he surveyed the aftermath. Family Deleted Successfully. He began weeping.

Now, a new reality had taken form, one devoid of Battlemaster. He was scared, crushed, and confused. How would he endure now? Slowly he began to feel a peace and euphoria washing over him. Perhaps there was hope. Perhaps there something more to life than a browser game. He smiled again. He had found his answer. Reginald stood up and walked across his trailer home to a small chest on the floor. Opening it carefully, he pulled out a Smith and Wesson .40 calibre revolver. He loaded a single bullet and put the gun mouth. 


He cocked the hammer, but hesitated. I can always make a new account, right? A new family, a fresh start!
He began hyperventilating.


Reginald Denny

Helpline / Gold gone :(
« on: December 11, 2015, 08:53:41 PM »
I moved my character Magnus Aurea to Xavax, and lost all my gold in the process. My troops want to be paid and I can't even pester my family for more gold, as I already did and took the 1 prestige hit for the meager amount they granted me. Help?

Dwilight / Terran mess - Aurea disappearance
« on: July 14, 2013, 10:34:54 AM »
Alura Aurea here. I was in the hospital for a while and my laptop was FUBAR so I never did get a chance to come back to BM from my vacation turned medical mess. What in the bloody hell happened in the time I was gone? Did Rynn, Alura's fiancee, get married to someone else? Are Perth, Vellos, and the rest still in Terran? What happened with Mendicant, was he really caught cheating (...Big surprise.) and banned? I've heard fragmented rumors here and there, that's about it.

As for me, my account was apparently deleted in the time I was gone. Alura, Alekhthaeos, Ehndras, and the lot are all gone forever. All that awesome RP deleted forever... Or is it?

I've been informed its not against the rules to recreate my old characters since they were relatively new and I'm not really gaining anything other than the continuation of my characters' story. I made a new family, the Tenebrae, but I just requested my account be deleted so I can get back into the game.

...I figure it'll be entertaining if Alura wakes from a coma to find Terran broken, her fiancee married to another woman, and the entire world turned upside down. Beats the hell out of killing off the extensive multi-branch RP background I created for the Aurea family based off of my fantasy novel work.

If anyone can help me make sense of this mess I would greatly appreciate your assistance. Many thanks!

Mors principium est,
G. J. Struck aka Alura Aurea, ruler of Terran, marshal of the Phantarian Pride

General Talk / Derailed thread
« on: August 23, 2012, 02:24:45 AM »
More like the pre-Sumerian flood that every subsequent religion stole, renamed, and re-attributed to their own time period and faith, but still. ;)

The beginning of the last Ice Age?

Helpline / Bugs, bugs, and more bugs
« on: July 28, 2012, 07:32:04 PM »
Bloody hell! I'm not even sure what to report. I logged in today and can't use travel, if I hit orders the screen says that option doesn't exist, I can't send messages most of the time - its in flaming chaos. (Mostly Belluatera for some odd reason)

It works fine a little and then I get hit by a chain of bugs and strange errors. I'll try to document them if I can. Anyone else getting these?

Helpline / Gold Issue
« on: July 26, 2012, 11:15:01 PM »
How do I report a bug? I've yet to need to and have no idea.

I left my estate this turn in Arcaea - Far East to claim Lordship of a region and it wiped all my gold to 0. After asking around, apparently this has been happening for a while at random. I'm really upset because I was just given bonds and collected taxes, all of which are gone, but it at least inspired a kickass RP about someone cutting my assassin's purse-strings and fleeing into the night. :-P I figured I might as well RP a reason why the bug exists so its not just me being pissed because my coin-purse went *poof*.

Character name: Vvaros
Family: Aurea
Continent: Far East
Realm: Arcaea

BM General Discussion / IG Battle Tactics Discussion
« on: July 15, 2012, 01:43:44 AM »
As a new arrival to the glory of Battlemaster, I am still learning the combat process and the intricate details of how battle strategy and tactics function in this ever-interesting game.

I've noticed that every nation and indeed each commander has their own preferred fighting style - obviously requiring adaptability depending on the location, time-span, enemy faced, and enemy troop content.

Some employ vast archer legions to cut down their enemies mid-stride while others organize massive infantry charges not unlike great blackened clouds which shroud the lands and echo a thousand battle-cries in unison. Some have tightly-knit cavalry formations with infantry walls while others forsake tactic and troop specialization to simply bash at their enemy with everything they can muster.

Having fought in Belluaterra against daimonkind, in Dwilight against Kabrinskia, and of course the endless stream of monster and undead uprisings, I've noticed two utterly diverging schools of thought, and a dozen or so different "primary" groups between the two.

The two main schools of thought are of course the "Death by a thousand cuts" method, the employing of endless legions to crush your enemy with sheer numbers, and the more specialized usage of highly-trained specialist troops to tactically engage the enemy and gain the upper hand.

I would like to learn more about YOUR preferred method of waging war, against what sort of enemy fighting styles you've used your methods, and how they fared for you. Don't be afraid to mention either crushing victories or embarrassing defeats - each has their merits and teaches all those involved how to better wage war.

As a newbie Marshal I feel its my place to learn the nuances of BM's combat system so that I may better serve the nations I am loyal to. :-)

My two main concerns are fighting cavalry charges and fighting infantry-walls, not the tactics per-se but armies that use a healthy dose of cavalry and armies that employ a cluster!@#$ of infantry.

Thank you in advance for your information and assistance, and I hope this leads to many an interesting discussion!

Other Games / Lord of The Rings Online - LOTRO
« on: July 13, 2012, 08:42:58 PM »
It recently came to my attention that I'm not the only LOTRO player on BM. :-P of course.

I figured I might as well find out who else might be playing! We've been getting a massive influx of players bored of DDO and WoW lately, because of LOTRO's awesome storyline, ridiculous volume of quests small and large, massive world, vast and complex crafting system, streamlined resource gathering system, thousands of skills, special scenarios, expansive campaigns, multiple races with different storylines and massive home regions with their own quests and perks, multiple classes in various combat roles, optional crafting professions that enable you to craft thousands upon thousands of unique items, furniture for player houses, and bonus items that give all sorts of extras, free and paid players get access to mounts and most things in-game, and there's so much friggin' gameplay that its impossible to ever get bored of the damn game.

I have 4 main characters, one of every race, (Human Guardian-Tank and Armoursmith/Tailor/Miner, Hobbit Burglar debuff/damager and Jeweler/Etc, Dwarf Champion-armoured wall of blades and weaponsmith, scholar(unique and interesting profession), and cook, and last but not least my stereotypical female elf ranger Alurien, a woodworker and farmer.

They each start in their races own MASSIVE region with their own quest lines, but any character can go to any region and do all the quests there. My Hobbit, Elf and Dwarf are in the Elf lands right now because I love the awesome landscape and breathtakingly beautiful architecture, while my Human is in the Barrowlands fighting undead around Bree. To really understand the full storyline you'd need at least two characters, a Hobbit/Human and a Dwarf/Elf, because every quest line shows a different look into the overall storyline, giving you little secrets and tidbits here and there that really bring the game together into a massively-multiplayer yet uniquely-fulfilling experience whether you choose to play with others or to go solo. (I do both.)

I've played every good MMO and online game there is, anything from stick-figure flash games all the way to the infamous Anarchy Online, I've played Eve, Star Trek online, Dungeons and Dragons Online, World of Warcraft, I was in the top-30 in Runescape for about 3 years running, I've played MUDs extensively, indie games in full ASCII, I've played it all. The most interesting and well-balanced MMO of this sort that I've played I would say is LOTRO. That's not to say someone else's opinion won't differ, but this is exactly what I've been looking for all my life. :-) To be honest, screw the combat, the scenarios, the campaigns, the quests, the epic storyline, the clan-questing, the skirmish scenarios, the group instance scenarios, the awesome main storyline quests we all know and love from the books and movies, forget all that. I've been looking for a damn game that lets me do literally EVERYTHING crafting-related, from the group up, my entire life. You see, I love crafting. Love it. I love to gather the resources, I love to shape them into materials, I love making armor, weapons, furniture, runes, potions, scrolls, buffs, debuffs, jewelry, I love it all. I love that LOTRO lets me specialize in not one but 3 skill umbrellas at once, gradually increasing with xp gained in said skills while being supplemented or circumvented by mob-dropped, player-bought, or store-bought recipes and scrolls that let you make rare items and unique item variations that potentially no one else can make. I !@#$ing love it.

Love it love it love it. This is like a drug, man. :-P And a few of my RL and online buddies play too, so I'm loooooving it even more.

If you're interested, shoot me a request and a message. My main character is, of course, Ehndras on the first server, Withywindle (Don't ask, the name sounds ridiculous to me too.) I've got a super-active, experienced, very friendly Kin (guild/clan) that will answer all your questions, quest with you, give you a hand with armor and weapons, has a massive mansion where we throw parties and have constant giveaways since most players specialize on one profession set and just give away all the items pertaining to skills they don't use, or are just generally nice and love giving away free !@#$.

I'm relatively low level, level 22, because I focus on crafting rather than combat. My friend Gus is level 35, my buddy Karl is level 15, and I know a few others who play too. :-)

Dwilight / Haktoo?
« on: July 13, 2012, 08:20:45 PM »
Just to be sure,

When Haktoo goes somewhere, the mechanics are the same as a normal player right? The actual character Haktoo has to move each turn and all that good stuff? Not just Haktoo but any Daimon-related entity, really. I'm just trying to figure out how the Bellua Daimons and Dwilight Zuma move and if there's any special mechanics I should be aware of, such as GMs just making them magically appear somewhere without the character having actually moved, or the character being shown in one location but an RP or action is going on in another location by that very same character.

Thanks in advance :-)

Beluaterra / Where to Go ;)
« on: June 20, 2012, 06:10:31 PM »
Well, finally joining Bellua. Had to donate to get a new char slot since apparently someone called Yuri is preventing my Hammersett Nord character from emigrating there due to having the same name. :P

I've been invited to join Riombara and start up the religion vaguely mentioned here, but I'm still on the wall about which nation to join.,2639.0.html

I'd like to bring 2 characters to Bellua, one as a Priest of Arkhan'a and the other as your usual nobleman aspiring to lead armies and kick demon ass. I'd most likely have them in the same nation, but I wouldn't mind spreading them apart a bit to make thing interesting.

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