Post by Frans Burm on Dec 22, 2005 19:08:31 GMT -5
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Krubbar kneels in the snow, hiding his glance from the bright sun, starting intently ahead through the trees, toward the hillside. A pillar of smoke rises from a campfire surrounded by tents, quietly resting on the side of the closest hill.
"The Gnolls are advancing," Krubbar tells his companion. "They're going to attack us before the next day." He sighs,
a waft of steam rushing out into the winter air.
His companion, Brosar breaks the silence. "You know we'll be no match for them. Gnolls are normally formidable, but one Gnoll with a demon-pact... it killed Kegte and Maggrom! We just can't fight them."
Krubbar scowls at the fate of his people, driven from their home by these mysterious, demonically powered tribe of Gnolls, named "Rekketta Tribe." Once, the Bur'Trar Orcs held their territory firmly, keeping the Gnolls to their own lands. However, this tribe, once fairly weak, has grown tremendously in power due to the magical necklaces they wear. Hessap, the clan shamaness, examined one of these necklaces from a Gnoll that Krubbar managed to kill with great difficuly. "Gyah! Krubbar, this necklace is smothered in fiendish energy. It's devil's blood, from a massively powerful one. Kr'tao bangra! It's crazy, but putting it around your collar will give you the blood of one who was born of a devil... that is, for as long as you wear it. I wouldn't suggest you trying it, Krubbar. There's no telling what kind of... 'effects' it might have on you."
Krubbar scans the horizon, seeing the file of Orcs, beasts of burden, wagons, and refugees on foot, extending to his front as far as he can see. The exodus of his people was a hard thing to order, but above all his destiny is to protect his clan and it's way of life, even if it means sacrificing their homeland for the chance to live and continue their ways in a safer location. Southward they head toward the borders of the Oakstorm forest, toward the human settlements, to gather food and resources, while scouting for a new home.
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Lieutenant Kenneth Brackima stands outside of his barracks, pacing in front of his soldiers. "By order of King Kranis the Second, a platoon of light infantry is to be sent to Scalesweep to provide protection in the case of a potential Orc raid. These orders come after an incident where the entirety of the Bur'Trar Orc clan moved down to the limits of Scalesweep territory, occurring two days ago. "Now remember, these Orcs, as always, are considered hostile. Not only are they living on land claimed by our King, but those charred turds are evil, ugly abominations who have nothing better to do than raid our villages and kill our people. We'll stomp those brutes in the ground if need be, because that's our job!" A patriotic cheer raises up from the platoon, and the soldiers raise their blades, "Glory to the King! Justice and peace to his people! Strength to the Infantry! Death to those who do evil! Huzzah!"
The Lieutenant continues, "We'll set up camp in Scalesweep, tough guys, and we'll make darn sure they don't step foot onto the farmlands surrounding it, and from there we await further orders. ...His Highness believes that a show of force will be enough to deter any 'aggressive actions'. Hmph. It is my opinion that those f'ugly bipeds are there to take our lands and butcher every man, woman and child. That means we will be protecting Scalesweep and it's by sword.
"So, on the roll, men! We've got civilians to protect! Let's get there and show them what it means to mess with the Herstalt Army!"
**************************************
Brosar and the other leaders of the clan sit around the tent stove, snacking on pork jerky and discussing the recent events. Food, water, and land are the necessities, and they have no intention on settling this close to human territory. Brosar's lead scout opens the flaps and steps in, snowfall blowing in behind him. "The humans have sent forty well-armed warriors to the closest human village," he announces, "...they don't seem to be advancing on us. They may be reacting to how close we're getting." The group contemplates the news, and after a few moments, Brosar breaks the silence, "Well, it should have been expected. I'll let Krubbar know, and you keep your scouts alert and on the lookout. ...It does make me nervous. Those humans are as arrogant and territorial as they are ugly. We've got to understand the foe we face, and though the humans are haughty, they are not stupid... they would not send forty against our clan. Just try to keep out of sight and maybe it won't be a problem."
**************************************
Lieutenant Brackima leans over a table, examining the map of the territory. Scalesweep's rustic, rural atmosphere is foriegn to him... feeding his desire for glorious battle.
He eyes his sergeants, then returns his glance to the table. "They're setting up structures, tents, and setting up recon pickets and patrolling scouts. That means they're preparing. Preparing for attack."
One of the Sergeants comments, "Sir, if I may say, we are doing the same things."
Brackima glares. Then spits out a contemptuous reply, "Hmph! Your mistake, sergeant, is placing them on our level. They're not people. They don't think and feel like we do. They're deformed monsters." He continues on with his brief, "Considering their actions, I find it necessary to disregard our orders to hold our position, and to commence an attack on them before they have more time to dig in and fight on their terms. King Kranis doesn't know what's going on down here. We're trying to save our own people from slaughter at their hands! Begin assembling your siege machines, we advance this evening, and initiate the attack at dawn."
**************************************
The siege machine rumbles as the oxen pull it forward, finally coming to a stop on line with a row of such machines. Barely visible in the moonlight, the human war machine waits in formation. Catapults, ballistas, trebuchets loaded with alchemist's fire dot the rear of the newly formed Scalesweep armed force, which consists of one fresh commanding officer, five sergeants, and thirty four inexperienced young human men trained to kill and ready to put evil beings to the sword. In front of them stand two hundred frightened conscripted peasants, armed with spears, clubs, and meager armor, are there to save their wives and children from the certain slaughter at the hands of the Orcs. Lieutenant Brackima sits on his warhorse, the visor on his helmet pulled up, and ice frozen to his goatee. "We do what we must do, for our people."
*************************************
Krubbar and Brosar sit mounted on their Worgs, in the lead of the formation, while Hessap and her adepts paint the faces of the Warriors, and bless them. The females and children had been sent to a secret location in the forest, with specific instructions to hide if they could, and fight if they must. Their massive catapults dot the crowd of pale green and grey faces. These warriors stand ready to fight with all of their strength until the death, stoicism
marks their faces with their new blessed warpaint, bringing the spirit of the mother earth to give them strength and guide them to their afterlife in Elysium. None of them wanted this conflict, but if these human bastards want a fight, these Orcs are ready to show them what true might is. Brosar looks to Krubbar knowingly, as Krubbar turns away and contemplates the coming battle. "We do what we must do, for our people."
*************************************
*************************************
You are adventurers who recently arrived in a caravan at Scalesweep's two-bit inn, from Pennswright, to seek your fortune. I need four to six level 1 players. Submit your character sheets to me via Yahoo Messenger or E-mail (lieroguy"AT"yahoo"DOT"com). If you are approved, post them on the topic. Please be meticulous with your character's detail, considering where every item is stored (build inventory like a topic outline) and how much it weighs, as well as personality and background. I would recommend spending your starting cash on as much survival equipment as you realistically think your character will need. Remember, the beginning of this campaign takes place in WINTER, to be sure to equip your characters accordingly. A tent and bedroll is a must, as well as fire equipment.
Prospective players must be able to post, on the average, at least once a day. Do not go overboard and take off with my game with half a dozen posts every day. If all of the players decide they can post more often than one day, then gague how fast you post wth everyone else.
That said, when you DO post, it needs to be wirtten novel-esque, in third person, present tense. Proofread your posts beforehand, and try to make posts longer thn one or two sentences (if you can, I know there are some cases where this is not possible).
Krubbar kneels in the snow, hiding his glance from the bright sun, starting intently ahead through the trees, toward the hillside. A pillar of smoke rises from a campfire surrounded by tents, quietly resting on the side of the closest hill.
"The Gnolls are advancing," Krubbar tells his companion. "They're going to attack us before the next day." He sighs,
a waft of steam rushing out into the winter air.
His companion, Brosar breaks the silence. "You know we'll be no match for them. Gnolls are normally formidable, but one Gnoll with a demon-pact... it killed Kegte and Maggrom! We just can't fight them."
Krubbar scowls at the fate of his people, driven from their home by these mysterious, demonically powered tribe of Gnolls, named "Rekketta Tribe." Once, the Bur'Trar Orcs held their territory firmly, keeping the Gnolls to their own lands. However, this tribe, once fairly weak, has grown tremendously in power due to the magical necklaces they wear. Hessap, the clan shamaness, examined one of these necklaces from a Gnoll that Krubbar managed to kill with great difficuly. "Gyah! Krubbar, this necklace is smothered in fiendish energy. It's devil's blood, from a massively powerful one. Kr'tao bangra! It's crazy, but putting it around your collar will give you the blood of one who was born of a devil... that is, for as long as you wear it. I wouldn't suggest you trying it, Krubbar. There's no telling what kind of... 'effects' it might have on you."
Krubbar scans the horizon, seeing the file of Orcs, beasts of burden, wagons, and refugees on foot, extending to his front as far as he can see. The exodus of his people was a hard thing to order, but above all his destiny is to protect his clan and it's way of life, even if it means sacrificing their homeland for the chance to live and continue their ways in a safer location. Southward they head toward the borders of the Oakstorm forest, toward the human settlements, to gather food and resources, while scouting for a new home.
**************************************
Lieutenant Kenneth Brackima stands outside of his barracks, pacing in front of his soldiers. "By order of King Kranis the Second, a platoon of light infantry is to be sent to Scalesweep to provide protection in the case of a potential Orc raid. These orders come after an incident where the entirety of the Bur'Trar Orc clan moved down to the limits of Scalesweep territory, occurring two days ago. "Now remember, these Orcs, as always, are considered hostile. Not only are they living on land claimed by our King, but those charred turds are evil, ugly abominations who have nothing better to do than raid our villages and kill our people. We'll stomp those brutes in the ground if need be, because that's our job!" A patriotic cheer raises up from the platoon, and the soldiers raise their blades, "Glory to the King! Justice and peace to his people! Strength to the Infantry! Death to those who do evil! Huzzah!"
The Lieutenant continues, "We'll set up camp in Scalesweep, tough guys, and we'll make darn sure they don't step foot onto the farmlands surrounding it, and from there we await further orders. ...His Highness believes that a show of force will be enough to deter any 'aggressive actions'. Hmph. It is my opinion that those f'ugly bipeds are there to take our lands and butcher every man, woman and child. That means we will be protecting Scalesweep and it's by sword.
"So, on the roll, men! We've got civilians to protect! Let's get there and show them what it means to mess with the Herstalt Army!"
**************************************
Brosar and the other leaders of the clan sit around the tent stove, snacking on pork jerky and discussing the recent events. Food, water, and land are the necessities, and they have no intention on settling this close to human territory. Brosar's lead scout opens the flaps and steps in, snowfall blowing in behind him. "The humans have sent forty well-armed warriors to the closest human village," he announces, "...they don't seem to be advancing on us. They may be reacting to how close we're getting." The group contemplates the news, and after a few moments, Brosar breaks the silence, "Well, it should have been expected. I'll let Krubbar know, and you keep your scouts alert and on the lookout. ...It does make me nervous. Those humans are as arrogant and territorial as they are ugly. We've got to understand the foe we face, and though the humans are haughty, they are not stupid... they would not send forty against our clan. Just try to keep out of sight and maybe it won't be a problem."
**************************************
Lieutenant Brackima leans over a table, examining the map of the territory. Scalesweep's rustic, rural atmosphere is foriegn to him... feeding his desire for glorious battle.
He eyes his sergeants, then returns his glance to the table. "They're setting up structures, tents, and setting up recon pickets and patrolling scouts. That means they're preparing. Preparing for attack."
One of the Sergeants comments, "Sir, if I may say, we are doing the same things."
Brackima glares. Then spits out a contemptuous reply, "Hmph! Your mistake, sergeant, is placing them on our level. They're not people. They don't think and feel like we do. They're deformed monsters." He continues on with his brief, "Considering their actions, I find it necessary to disregard our orders to hold our position, and to commence an attack on them before they have more time to dig in and fight on their terms. King Kranis doesn't know what's going on down here. We're trying to save our own people from slaughter at their hands! Begin assembling your siege machines, we advance this evening, and initiate the attack at dawn."
**************************************
The siege machine rumbles as the oxen pull it forward, finally coming to a stop on line with a row of such machines. Barely visible in the moonlight, the human war machine waits in formation. Catapults, ballistas, trebuchets loaded with alchemist's fire dot the rear of the newly formed Scalesweep armed force, which consists of one fresh commanding officer, five sergeants, and thirty four inexperienced young human men trained to kill and ready to put evil beings to the sword. In front of them stand two hundred frightened conscripted peasants, armed with spears, clubs, and meager armor, are there to save their wives and children from the certain slaughter at the hands of the Orcs. Lieutenant Brackima sits on his warhorse, the visor on his helmet pulled up, and ice frozen to his goatee. "We do what we must do, for our people."
*************************************
Krubbar and Brosar sit mounted on their Worgs, in the lead of the formation, while Hessap and her adepts paint the faces of the Warriors, and bless them. The females and children had been sent to a secret location in the forest, with specific instructions to hide if they could, and fight if they must. Their massive catapults dot the crowd of pale green and grey faces. These warriors stand ready to fight with all of their strength until the death, stoicism
marks their faces with their new blessed warpaint, bringing the spirit of the mother earth to give them strength and guide them to their afterlife in Elysium. None of them wanted this conflict, but if these human bastards want a fight, these Orcs are ready to show them what true might is. Brosar looks to Krubbar knowingly, as Krubbar turns away and contemplates the coming battle. "We do what we must do, for our people."
*************************************
*************************************
You are adventurers who recently arrived in a caravan at Scalesweep's two-bit inn, from Pennswright, to seek your fortune. I need four to six level 1 players. Submit your character sheets to me via Yahoo Messenger or E-mail (lieroguy"AT"yahoo"DOT"com). If you are approved, post them on the topic. Please be meticulous with your character's detail, considering where every item is stored (build inventory like a topic outline) and how much it weighs, as well as personality and background. I would recommend spending your starting cash on as much survival equipment as you realistically think your character will need. Remember, the beginning of this campaign takes place in WINTER, to be sure to equip your characters accordingly. A tent and bedroll is a must, as well as fire equipment.
Prospective players must be able to post, on the average, at least once a day. Do not go overboard and take off with my game with half a dozen posts every day. If all of the players decide they can post more often than one day, then gague how fast you post wth everyone else.
That said, when you DO post, it needs to be wirtten novel-esque, in third person, present tense. Proofread your posts beforehand, and try to make posts longer thn one or two sentences (if you can, I know there are some cases where this is not possible).