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Ellorian last won the day on March 8 2017

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About Ellorian

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  1. Oni had changed back to her bella donna form by then and stretched luxiously, showing her body to the best extent she could for Dan. She had to admit, she liked the boy. If only she was an actual succubus, she could truly make use of him, feeding off the passionate energy she felt every time she focused on him. As it was, she still enjoyed the tease but was truly in love with her husband. Mentioning whom... Tuma stepped forward slowly, looking tired but otherwise unphased. He'd already seen the devastation around him from the eyes of the wolves, but up close and personal it was all a little different, a little more intense. He walked towards his wife and threw his arms around her, holding her close and playing with her hair. It was his favourite way of self-soothing after an time of anything intense and always made him feel rapidly better. Besides, she'd obviously enjoyed herself and that was the thing that always delighted him the most. "Beloved..." she said. "We were talking about how we could get the stuff they'd stolen back to town. Do you think... maybe..." He knew what she was hinting at, and sighed resignedly. He was exhausted and now she wanted him to perform one of the hardest tricks in his necromantic book. "My love..." "Taking... most... of the property back to the people they stole from might just mean we don't get moved on from here quite as quickly," she said. "I understand if it's too much but it really would help... All of us." She looked around at the other two, seeing their confusion and chucked. "Besides, it might give our two friends a thrill too and you know how I get when you flex your magical muscles." He grinned. It was true. The most erotic times he'd had were when he thought he was too exhausted because of the stunt he'd just pulled but she proved more than capable of providing the energy for both of them. "I'll need to be carried though," he said, his muzzle wrinkling. "This is going to take all my energy." "Oh I'm sure the boys won't mind." With that, Tuma sat down and focused. His brow furrowed deeply between his red eyes. His rat ears pulled back as the stress built. And words, strange mystical words, spilled quietly from his mouth. At first, nothing changed. Oni was aware that the other two probably thought nothing was going to happen after a minute or two, but then a sound from behind them made them turn. One of the bandits, perhaps the one whose corpse was most intact, albeit covered in delicate flowers, was pushing itself to its feet. It staggered forwards but seemed to be ignoring them, and as they watching they saw it move towards a small pile of scattered coins. Another sound and an arm, severed from the body it had belonged to, began to move also. Oni laughed as she watched their former victims slowly become her husband's puppets. He continued his quiet chanting, his face showing the obvious pain he was going through from the effort of controlling such a mass of zombies. It wasn't quick, and it certainly wasn't easy, but they'd be able to move everything from the camp back to town this way and provide proof of the bandits' deaths. At least, they could take everything they didn't pocket for themselves. "One of you boys care to carry my husband?" she asked. "I'd burn him alive as the hellcat and as you can see, he's kind of occupied."
  2. As Dan and Hyacinth took on the bandits who fled for cover in the cave, Oni continued to rip apart the ones who stayed outside. There was no mercy and there was no escape. Those who didn't die on a dancing blade found their blood proving fatal to them in various interesting magical ways. Those who attempted to regroup outside found a fireball with talons of steel tearing them apart and searing them to ash. Tuma saw all this from his resting point in the nearby woods, but not through his own eyes. He'd called on the wolf pack in the area to gather around and used their sight instead. Then, as a few escaped all three of his companions, seeking shelter amidst the trees, he invited the wolves to dine also. It was bloody, it was violent, and it was final. The battle, insofar as it could be called that, could only have lasted a few minutes. In the unlikely event that any of the bandits had not been present it was certain what they found when they returned would convince them to move elsewhere. His mind began to turn to the reward. A few simple magical trinkets. Not much, really, but it wasn't for much work. And besides, to those who knew sympathetic magic, it was amazing what you could use a simple thing to achieve.
  3. Oni left her husband to recover, knowing he'd use the time to connect with the local beasts and monitor the area for them, possibly even sending aid to mop up any fleeing bandits. She'd learned enough on their travels to know that Dan did well in the dark, though his whole history was still unknown to her, so she kept to the form of the bella donna at first. She wasn't as tough in that form, though she was a competent swordswoman with skin as tough as leather. Plus, the glamour she cast could prove a wonderful distraction to those who still kept their wits enough to process that there was a beautiful woman among their midst. Still, it wasn't the combat form that the hell cat was. That was always the trouble with working with others. What worked best for you sometimes worked worst for them. Then again, Dan was cute in his virginal embarrassment and this gave her a chance to show herself to him again. Not that it made much difference this time. This time, he was focused. The men who had been in the few shacks around the cave were already dead or injured. The bomb Hyacinth had made of her husband's puppet had seen to that. It was amazing just how many seemed to be in the cave system itself though. As she saw the lights of the torches on the cave walls she had to chuckle. She could use her favoured battle form after all and she gave a grin at her companions. "Ready to take down a whole host of screaming, terrified idiots?" she said. "Stand back." She took a few paces forward and transformed. This time, she began to sprint as she did so, bounding at full speed towards the caves. It was about the only thing that would save them from a forest blaze as she didn't hold back her searing flames this time. Hot enough to melt steel, she burned with a rage only demons could know. Already she could hear the increased screams as what was now little more than a bull-sized fireball barreled towards the cave entrance. Men, women, tried to get out of her way. Many made it, turning to flee the terrible being as fast as they could. Dan and Hyacinth would have easy pickings from them. Still others couldn't move in time and their voices screeched in agony as her flames engulfed them. Not for the first time she reflected that mortals were such easy prey.
  4. Oni, now in her bella donna form once again, lay her hand on her husband's shoulder as he guided the simulacrum into the bandit camp. They often took strength from one another's touch and while she would take the form of the hell cat when it was time to attack, now was a case of the stealthier the better. Burning the forest around them probably wouldn't assist that. Tuma had done an excellent job. Yes, if you looked too closely at the bandit's double you'd see it had a dead gaze, but until you were truly focussed on him nothing would seem unusual. As some of the bandit's former allies saw him approach Tuma proved just how masterful his work was. Tuma's lips moved but it was the bandit that cried out, his voice produced by vocal chords that exactly replicated those of the living man, sounding very similar to how his voice had. "Hey, come help me!" the animated corpse called. "I had a fight with one of the nobles, but I managed to grab a purse of gems!" THAT got their attention. Within seconds, other gang members were leaving their huts and watch posts, coming to see whether the loser of their band had indeed made good for once. Tuma exacerbated the limp, making it look even more like the man was badly injured. She smiled. "Now or never, blood bomb!" she said softly, looking at Hyacinth. "And then we better get in there."
  5. Oni and Tuma had both seen people too petrified to move before. Dealing with demons and the undead did that to many, especially at the dirty end where filthy bodies and runny organs were involved. They couldn't be sure that that was what had happened to the woman in the tree, but whether or not it was she was evidently neither threat nor assistance to them. They followed Dan down the road, being careful until they were well beyond any opportunity for the woman to act, then turned their attention back to the focus of their group, the bandits. "We should be there soon," said Oni's voice, still speaking for both her husband and herself as she knew his difficulty in dealing with social situations. "I think the idea of Tuma creating a moving simulacrum will work well, and I think I got your hint about turning him into some kind of bomb with your ability to make blood explode. It should pretty much mean we're safe to take on any survivors ourselves."
  6. @Jesus Negro Looks good overall, but I did notice two things and need some clarification. First, you seem to have replaced House Jove with a different one between your last map and this one. Given I've been writing the history as a flight from and defeat of the House Jove army, do you need me to update my stuff to reflect your change? Second, the lore article describes the nation as Sigrfjall Kingdom, but the nation has matrilineal matriarchy enshrined in its culture, history and law. That's why I named it a Queendom instead (they'd see a reason to make the distinction clear in the name, even if Sigrfjall herself died). Does this cause a game-related problem? If so I'll change the concept, if not could you fix the title in the lore please? Thanks for all your work.
  7. Got mine up and running for Sigrfjall. Just the basic background info you'd seen before and then a couple of history posts though.
  8. History: The Magic of the Throne Room (Saving Queen Sigrfjall) "She's dying." "Yes." "She'll get a hero's funeral." "No." "What in all Renovatio are you talking about it? We wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for her! Didn't you see how she fought? Hells alive, we wouldn't have FOUGHT without her and we drove House Jove back until we could finish off who remained. What do you mean, 'No'?" "I mean no. She won't have a hero's funeral. She's not a hero." "WHAT?!" The Fuglmenn healer stood and stretched his wings. Black feathers ruffled as he shook out his exhaustion. He'd been working hard to save their new queen since she'd fallen in battle two weeks ago. It seemed futile, but right then it was the only job he could do that mattered at all. Lesser skilled healers could work on the people, on the makeshift army that had saved them all, on the builders and farmers and craftsmen who were even now creating a city out of the very rock of Mount Sigrfjall itself. He had the work on the Queen. The trouble was, he wasn't enough. Turning his pitch black eyes on the woman talking to him and sighed. She was his Stjörnuálfur mate. They had birthed two children together, the son he was raising as a healer and the daughter she was raising, unusually for her people, as a warrior. Even before their flight, and despite the common practice of their individual races, they'd met sometimes as family and jubilated in each other's successes. Now, they were a family like those of other races, living together, supporting one another. She was a remarkable woman too - a mage and a warrior combined. He'd marvelled at how she'd fought with sword and spell out on the battlefield, how her commanding presence had rallied others when they seemed close to defeat as well. Yet perceptive as she was, she just hadn't understood what he had when their queen had led the successful defence, nor what he'd realized as he people worked on forming their new city afterwards. Nobody seemed to have realized it, but if he showed her then he had faith that she could teach the rest. "Svanhildr..." The man sighed as he reached out to take his mate's hands in his. Her warmth felt good to him after sitting alone and working with magical herbs for so long. "Come with me. I need to show you something. "Hrafn?" Svanhildr followed her mate without hesitation, knowing that anything that took him away from his duty to the Queen had to be critical. Besides, something had to be preying on his mind to make a statement such as he had about the Queen not being a hero. It just didn't make sense. Once outside, he grasped her around the waist, his strong arms reminding her briefly of intimacies they'd shared in the past. Right now, though, she knew it was more so he could carry her into the air than anything else and she wrapped her own arms around his neck and waist, holding on as his powerful wings beat them high above the new castle. It wasn't much yet, but in two weeks the fact that a stone castle had been built at all was a miracle. "Look around," he said and she did. A miracle had happened in since they'd defeated their attackers. What had been a mountain bare of any sign of civilization had been transformed. People had places to live. Certainly, most of them were currently wooden shacks made from hastily harvested hardwood, but even now there were one or two small stone buildings. They would have been even better but most of the work so far had been put into the castle, itself no more than a simple keep so far, and the gated Riverfront Wall. Twin towers guarded the river and valley beyond, staffed constantly by both a steam cannon and archers. A mine to the north scratched the surface of the mountain, providing stone and metal ore for the city. Hunters and foresters worked the treeline for food and building supplies. Fishermen had found and begun fishing a small lake as well as the river itself. They'd even found a kind of slime that grew on the rocks, perfectly edible if unappetizing, that supplemented the diet to ensure people had enough to eat. Other crafstmen and women were working their skills with whatever materials came to hand - pottery, clothing, cookware, even jewelry all being produced in a city that hadn't existed 17 days before. Yes, it was all primitive, but it was none the less amazing for that. "This doesn't happen," said Hrafn. "It is incredible," said Svanhildr, "but the need to survive can make people do amazing things... and in truth we got lucky. The people who managed to get here were the healthiest men, women and children. There is nobody here who can't contribute a lot to the city. It's a terrible thing, but the necessity of the flight meant those who weren't strong... died." "Yes, but it doesn't explain this," said Hrafn. "Don't you see it? People are working together. Leaders grew from the completely disparate people who followed the Queen here... and people follow them not just willingly, but eagerly. And they listen to those who follow too. If the smallest child comes to someone with an idea... they listen. Nobody is fighting. Nobody is arguing. This doesn't happen. And what about the battle? Do you really think people who've never fought together can coordinate so well that they can defeat an army like the one that we faced? You know they can't. The very idea is ridiculous." "The Queen did an work a miracle in how she motivated people," said Svanhildr. "She commanded and everyone just fought for her without question and now it's like they work for her as hard too. People are working through the night. Others bring them food, replace them when they need to rest. I've never seen anything like it before. She's like a force of nature." "Not like, Svanhildr," said her mate. "She IS a force of nature." "What do you mean?" Hrafn looked at her for a moment before speaking. "What's her name?" "I...I don't know," said Svanhildr. "I never got a chance to ask before she fell in battle. I don't think most people know but some must. Besides, we can still have a hero's funeral to honour her as the unnamed queen if..." "You do know," said Hrafn. "No, I..." "Don't think about it," he said. "Just feel it. You know it." Svanhildr didn't even pause before answering. The name was on her tongue. "Sigrfjall? But that's just a name she made up to inspire people, a symbol of the mountain where we had to take a stand." "No," said Hrafn quietly. "It's not. Places have names too, real ones not the ones people give them. Sigrfjall is the spirit of this place and in her, it found a living home. She IS the mountain, my love. She IS the spirit of this place now, whoever she was before. It's because she embodies the mountain that this is all happening. The mountain wants us to succeed because with her, we are its people. If she dies... all this goes away." It seemed ridiculous, superstitious, and Svanhildr wanted to argue, but in truth there was something unnatural about all of this. Even beyond what Hrafn had said, she had been puzzled about their success. There were always accidents among foresters, miners and builders. That hadn't happened. There were always hunters being killed by wild animals. That had not happened. There were always fishermen and gatherers coming home empty handed. That had not happened. More importantly, it seemed impossible that the wound that had finally felled the Queen had not yet killed her. Especially as her kind, the Svínfólk, were partially immune to magic making the cures that her mate had come up with almost ineffective. Maybe the mountain had claimed them as its people due to their Queen. If so, then he was also right that she couldn't die. Not now, not ever. "You didn't mean she's not a hero, did you?" she said. "You meant she's become far more than that. She's the mountain's own avatar... What do we do? Even your magic isn't strong enough to heal her now." "But the mountain's is," he said. "We have to build a throne room in which she can BE the mountain's queen. Get our miners to find the most precious metals and exotic gemstones to make her throne and line the walls. Get our most powerful healers and priests and mages to turn the throne room into a shrine where the mountain can feel welcome. Then it can heal her and keep her whole. Forever if needs be." "Do you know how many resources that will draw from other needed work?" asked Svanhildr. "People could die." "Without it," said Hrafn. "People WILL die. All of us will. We cannot let the mountain's queen die or we will no longer be welcome." Svanhildr nodded. "It will take time though." "I'll keep her alive until then," said Hrafn. "I have no choice. None of us do. Now take me back. I have a queen to heal."
  9. History: Drive Them Back (The Birth of a Queendom) She gasped painful lungfuls of air as the haze of the blood rage seeped slowly from her body. It had driven her through the heat of the battle. The rage her people knew when in extreme danger had turned her into a killing machine and there, at her feet, was the proof. Her hand still gripped the corpse's head, the warrior's head she corrected herself, as she stared down at his lifeless body and that of the bizarre flying beast he had ridden. By rights, she should not have won. Nobody would have expected the five foot nothing, fat, woman of the Svínfólk race to beat an armed, trained, air-borne warrior. Hell, she didn't even carry a bow. Yet with the sheer cliffs of the forbidding mountain barring their further flight, she and the disparate survivors of the tribes and small towns who had fallen prey to these men had been faced with no option but to turn and fight. And fought they had. Like the very demons from the bowels of the world, they had fought. For her people, the Svínfólk, the terror they faced created a blood rage that could only end when either they lay dead or the danger was passed. Yet for the others... the humes, the Fuglmenn, the Stjörnuálfur, they had no such gift, or curse as it sometimes was. They had fought not on adrenaline-inspired terror that robbed you of all your mind but that dedicated to killing and pushed your body beyond its normal abilities. They had fought purely on courage, on knowing right then what could happen if they failed. They had fought for their lives when she knew every aspect of their essence must have been crying out to surrender and hopefully escape merely as slaves. Yet they had also fought having seen what the attackers had done to their own people; the towns they had destroyed, the elderly, infirm and children butched because they were too much trouble to enslave. And they had won. They were watching her. It was knowledge that came to her almost bypassing her senses, certainly bypassing her mind. At first she was confused. Why were they all standing around staring at her? They had fought just like she had. Except... except none had faced an airborne warrior armed with nothing but the axe she'd managed to flee her village with days ago. To them, she'd proved herself a warrior beyond compare and a leader on the battlefield when everything should have been lost. They saw her as something she wasn't. Her father had been the chief of her tribe, that was true, but she was his fifth-born child. She had been a huntress, but even then not a leader of the hunting parties. She hadn't been trained for battle, hadn't been groomed for leadership. She wasn't what these people needed. Yet she'd seen the rest of her family slaughtered as they had seen the same happen to them. From the lands around the mountain, ultimately a few thousand had escaped the devastation of the oncoming horde of House Jove. Most were primitive tribes in comparison to the Jovian army. Some were technologically advanced, but even they came from towns not trained to face a true war. They had followed her as she had fled with her people. They had gathered what they could, weapons, food, supplies, and they had followed her. They'd turned to her as a leader and they needed her to be that more now than even during the flight. It didn't matter whether she felt she was a leader, that she lacked the skills of a trained warrior, that the only thing she knew for sure was she was not fit for this role. All that mattered was that she had to be that leader. They had nobody else, and worse, what they had defeated was, she knew, a scouting party of the Jovian army. Worse would soon be heading towards them. There was no time to find anyone else. There was a magic in the air. She could feel it. It wasn't a magic cast by any hume or elf or beastial. It wasn't even a magic of gods or demons or otherworldly spirits. It was the magic of desperation. She had them right then. They needed her and she had them. They would do absolutely anything she demanded because her word was all they had, but she would lose it as quickly as it was born if she did not take advantage of it immediately. The people were exhausted, broken when they had to be at their peak. She had to get them back there and it had to be now. Barely even thinking, she spoke, the fatigue of battle making her gasp her sentences like they were rage-driven an determined. "They drove us from our homes!" she cried out. "They drove us from our lands and soon they will come to drive us from life itself!" Hauling the head she had ripped from the warrior's body above her head she gave the rallying cry, unaware of just how signficant it would be to all their futures for generations to come. "Now... we... drive... them... BACK!" Her eyes cast over the crowd, learning every one in a moment as they called out in jubilation at the certainty of her statement. The masses of foot warriors, the riders, the few from the advanced towns who had managed to drag five steam cannons with them. They would fight, but so would the others: the parents with babes in arms, the young, the elderly, the farmers, the miners, those far less skilled than even a huntress like her. But their lack of skill would be their downfall. Their terror was unlike the blood rage of the Svínfólk and would be a liability. These people she had to protect. She had no idea how, but somehow she had to organize an army that could withstand the onslaught to come. "When they come, we will slaughter them as they did our families." She had to be quick. Some of the scouting party had escaped and the main force of the army that had come to the mountain was close by. They'd be here soon. There was no time for speeches, no time for questions, and certainly no time for planning. All they had was each other and this ravine in the high ridges of the mountain, with the river flooding through its base, loud and fast and deadly. And that knowledge was the birth of the nation. "When they come they will not face fleeing villages. They will face the people of Sigrfjall, the Victory Mountain. They will face people of rock and iron. And we will drive them down the river and drowned them in the distant sea!" It was done. If they survived this night, she would be the queen of a new people, a new city, a nation even. She knew it in her blood. They had given themselves to her and that moment of magic had been claimed. The nation had even been named, given the same name as that she had just invented for the mountain itself, Sigrfjall. It had come to her in a flash. This mountain had been mere rock until she declared it their home and their victory. Now she was theirs even more than they were hers. She was their queen, they were her people, but all of them belonged to the mountain. Of course, surviving the night was unlikely to come easily. She scanned the area and formed a quick plan, one that she knew would take a little time to prepare, and that gave no time for arguments. She had to be their queen now, their absolute ruler whose will would not be questioned. Calling on what remained of the blood rage, she forced herself to stand as tall as her five foot frame would allow. "You! From the towns! Get those cannons onto the high ridge. Prepare to bombard the enemy when they come. Any mages present, help them. Work your magics and get them secured. You and you! Lead the archers! Get them into the caves and stay there until the enemy passes. Rain down hell on them from the sides and behind! You will slaughter any riding airborne beasts before they take us over! You and you! Lead the riders! Get them into the woods out of sight and prepare to come in and harry them from the sides once the battle is met. You! Lead the dire wolf riders! Move silently! Get behind them. Cut them off when we drive them out and cut them dead! You two! With the dogs! Get ready to send them in to attack! And you warriors, stand with me! We will seem a much lighter force without the others! We will be visible and they will come swiftly! I've seen their hunger. When they face a foe that seems easy they don't think, they kill. We will make them ignore the possibility of attack from the others and we will be the force that stops them." "Please..." She looked down from the rise on which she stood to see a young child calling her attention. Yes, she had remembered them. The ones who weren't fit to fight. The majority of the people here. Untrained, unskilled, old, young. They had to have something though. She allowed a smile. "You, child, and everyone who is not a trained warrior, have the most important job of all. Work with any healers and mages to gather whatever herbs and spell ingredients they say. Scavenge the battlefield when there is a space broken to gather weapons and armour that we may use. Stay out of sight as much as you possibly can, but know that us surviving depends on you working harder than any of us. YOU are the true people of the mountain." Down in the valley some distance away the sound of a horn barely carried to them on the wind. They were out of time. They had to act. "MOVE!" she said loudly. "NOW! AND DRIVE THEM BACK!"
  10. (NOTE: This thread is intended as a background thread for the nation of Sigrfjall. I welcome questions and comments through PM. It's entirely possible that questions you ask might result in storyline/detail posts in this thread to explain that aspect of society) Country: Sigrfjall Flag: Description: Two pennons, gold bordered, one on top of the other. Upper pennon is red, symbolizing power and a joining of the bloods. It bears white silhouettes of the Queen's crown (in whom the nation is embodied), a cutlass (symbolizing the military as protector), and a hand holding a broken chain (symbolizing the escape from the genocide and slavery of House Jove). The lower pennon is black, symbolizing the rebellion and fight against genocide that birthed the nation. It bears a white silhouette of Sigrfjall, the Victory Mountain which is home to the nation, and the nation's motto in Mountainvoice. Blazon of Queendom of Sigrfjall: per pale gules and sable a chief raguly or An eagle argent in middle chief A star argent in dexter chief A star argent in sinister chief A crown or in fess point Motto: Fasthet og Fresli fra Fjallinu (Fortitude and Freedom from the Mountain) Country's Official Name — The Independent Queendom of Sigrfjall Royal House — Matriarchy of Queen Sigrfjall Location — On the Eastern side of Mount Sigrfjall, part of the range marked "More Mountains" to the West of Ysmir Sea. (Map will be inserted) Allies - None General Area: 1 mi2 Climate : Mountain and temperate forestation (primarily softwood, some hardwood on lower slopes), some high moorland capable of supporting grazing. Conquered Territories: None Conquered Population: None Population: 9897 Demographics: Svinfolk: 3512 Hume (Standard): 3181 Hume (Cursed): 1022 Fuglmenn: 873 Stjörnuálfur: 760 Other: 549 Living: In city: 7207 Rural hamlets: 2690 (basically miners, foresters, farmers, gatherers, hunters, and other city adjuncts) Racial description Svínfólk (bestial) Svínfólk are a short (4'0"-5'2"), fat, bestial race resembling humanoid pigs/boars (or porcine humans depending on how you look at things). Their heads are very similar to pig and boar heads (tendency towards the wilder forms rather than domestic pig appearance), they have just 2 fingers and a thumb on each hand, all relatively thick and with sturdy nails. Their bodies also tend to have sparse patches of coarse hair, similar to the hair on a boar's body. Their intellect tends to be slightly lower than the average human, their average IQ being about 90 instead of 100, and their emotions tend to run stronger. They also tend, with a few exceptions, to be magically limited and have a slight resistance to magic used on them (beneficial or harmful) so that while spells will affect them they affect them somewhat less than they affect other humanoids. They are quite strong, and competent warriors in general, which is emphasized when they are enraged. At this point they enter what they call a blood-rage, similar in many ways to going berzerk. The degree to which this affects individuals varies strongly, of course. All together, this has made svínfólk struggle to find acceptance among some of the cities of the world. Fuglmenn (bestial) Fuglmenn are an elegant, lithe and tall (5'9" - 7'3") race of bird-like humanoids. They bear both wings and arms and have heads resembling those of various birds around the world. Further, they have feathered bodies, with feathers strongly concentrated in places where human males tend to have hair. Different individuals resemble different species of humanoid bird, from songbirds, to waterfowl, to raptors and more. This does not seem to indicate any significant biological difference between the sub-groups, but there is a tendency in fuglmenn society to mix primarily with those of similar form. Slight of build, they are not given to the arts of melee warcraft, but tend more towards being skilled archers, scouts, spies etc. Most surprising about the fuglmenn is that they are all male. As such, they are completely incapable of breeding among themselves. What has happened instead is that tribes of fuglmenn have tended to live alongside stjörnuálfur villages, and both seem to be in similar numbers. The two groups maintain complete independence except that they breed successfully with each other, with all males born as fuglmenn and all females born as stjörnuálfur. This has led to speculation that they may originally be the same race, magically changed millenia ago. This, however, is pure speculation. Stjörnuálfur (elf) Stjörnuálfur are a tall (5'7" - 6'8"), lithe elven race who tend towards being magically gifted. However the magical power varies, with it being stronger "the closer they are to the stars." What this actually translates to is both an altitudinal and temporal variance in magical power. Being higher up, and it being night time, both benefit the stjörnuálfur's magical power while being lower down (towards or beneath sea level) and it being the middle of the day limits it. Their name derives from this fact, literally translating to "star elf". As with the fuglmenn, one remarkable fact about the stjörnuálfur is that they are all one sex, in this case female. This makes breeding among themselves completely impossible. Instead, their villages are almost always proximate with the tribes of fuglmenn and while both maintain independence they interbreed among one another (girls being stjörnuálfur and boys being fuglmenn). Active Military: (approx 38% currently active) 3800 Of which: Queen's Elite Guard 50 Queen's Cavalry 500 Queen's Archers and Steam Cannons 800 Queen's Heavy and Light Foot 2100 Royal Auxilliary Forces 250 Royal Menagerie 100 Queen's Elite Guard: The best warriors from each section are promoted to the Queen's Elite Guard. Although they do form a last line of defence for the queen herself, they are much more than that, forming a small, cohesive, and elite force of mixed skills capable of handling important tasks. Consider them the equivalent of the SAS or Navy Seals etc, but with guardianship responsibilities too. Queen's Cavalry: The mounted arm of the armed forces. This is mostly light and heavy horsemen, but there are some Svinfolk direwolf riders functioning as scouts, outriders etc (swift, quieter, and capable of a strong response to an individual or very small force, but not really combat troops as they are too easily overwhelmed by numbers). Queen's Archers and Steam Cannons Mostly archers, but from some nearby towns who had the technology but were not ready to fight against house Jove, a few steam cannoneers fled to the mountain. These function as long range field artillery but require coal and water to use. Queen's Heavy and Light Foot The infantry, and the bulk, of the army. A variety of different troops from swordsmen to halbardiers. Royal Auxilliary Forces A mixed group including mages fit for espionage roles, a few combat mages, healers and priests, armourers, sabateurs etc. Royal Menagerie Troops skilled at handling, training and using beasts of various kinds for combat roles. This includes warhound handlers, falconeers, horse handlers, animal healers etc. A peripheral group, certainly, but essential in their own way, not least as cavalry trainers. Resources (Will be provided in greater detail later) Wood - hardwood (Some & Demanded) softwood (Ample & Demanded, 20% export) Mineral ores - iron (Ample & Demanded, will be export as mining and society develop) copper (Ample & Demanded, 5% exported) silver (Some and Demanded) gold (Trace, panned for in Golden River & Demanded) tin (Ample & Demanded, will be export as mining and society develop) Gemstones - ruby and emerald are mined from cave system (Some, primarily used as exports) semi-precious and simply beautiful "tumblestones" (Some, primarily found in abundance in Golden River, primarily used as exports); magical crystals (Some, found in grottos and mines, & Demanded) Arable land (Some, but insufficient, & Demanded - primarily conquered and held areas of House Jove lands) Other animal-based and plant-based resources - fish (Ample, but not enough to export) hunted meats (Ample, but not enough to export) furs (Ample and exported) gathered nuts and berries (some, demanded) "slime" (a nutritious but unappetizing mold grows within the mud of the Golden River and Queenslake, forms the basis of most Sigrfjallian cooking but it too unappetizing to export, Ample and Demanded) Status (more details to come) Vengeful/Angry Population (this nation is soon after its birth, having been driven to Sigrfjall by House Jove, would-be conquerors of various lesser nations and minor tribes. It was Matriarch 's speech of retaliation at the mouth of the High Grotto on Mount Sigrfjall that rallied them to drive House Jove from this land despite lacking organization and military technology compared to their enemy. Now they seek revenge. In game terms: various opportunities for conquest, espionage, etc) Currently limited infrastructure (given the recent formation of the nation, and it's chaotic birth, major social structures are still being formed. Technology is varied, though by no means limited, but incorporation into the fabric of a funtional society is still limited. In game terms: opportunity for events around government formation, major construction etc) Civilizing Sigrfjall (The country is less than fifty years from initial formation and a lot of that time had been devoted to fighting House Jove, add to this that the Svinfolk love a natural environment and the country relies on its wilderness both for internal supplies and external trade and you have a city surrounded by almost entirely untamed lands. Much of this will be tamed or at least controlled as the country develops, but right now they're a long way from that. In game terms: opportunities for adventurers to deal with raging beasts, natural "dungeons" among the deeper grottos, etc; also I would request the ability to tame an eerie for the earlier air wings before tech workshops can be properly developed, probably griffins then drakes (wyvern or dragon)).
  11. "I think I just scared her," said Oni's sultry voice, heard at once by all of them equally. "I don't think she has ever heard a disembodied voice telling her that it knows where she is." Oni giggled slightly. It was a pleasant laugh, born of enjoyment of the surprise rather than mocking the one experiencing it. "If I was you, I'd come out and meet us. I can lead all four of us right to the oak tree you're hiding it... it's the one about two hundred yards down the road from us, on the right, with the broken limb hanging low. Of course, just as we know you're there you know we're here now. So let's forget the subterfuge nonsense and get this over with. If you're one of the nearby bandit gang today is your lucky day. You get to help us round up your friends and live, assuming you don't try anything stupid of course. If you're hiding from the bandits then I promise you you're much safer with us than hiding in a tree. And if you have another reason for hiding in a tree, then come on down before we get concerned and you get hurt. I promise you, that's how today ends best for you."
  12. I think, at this point, guidance from Jesus Negro would be extremely important. I know he said that he said he's planning on contacting everyone and I, for one (and I suspect others too), am eager to hear from him. I have plans for Sigrfjell but I need the go-ahead and some information on just what he expects/accepts. Without that, in all likelihood, we end up doing work that's not what he wants, wasting our effort and making him read though reams of stuff that's not relevant to him - potentially frustrating for all concerned.
  13. I'm not sure on that... I thought things were offered by the big boss man as ways to develop the nation. Roleplay but different. However, at this point I'm really not sure.
  14. "From the heart?" asked Tuma, a question about one of his two main interests immediately eradicating any nervousness that had previously kept him quiet. "Certainly. I can pretty much make a walker, a zombie without any damage. It can basically be a full replica of him. It will look like him, smell like him, everything. If you cut it, it will bleed. Of course, the problem is that the more complex a creature I make the less ability it has to walk of its own accord. Had I got the brain I could also make that walker act to a good extent on its own. With the heart, if you want it that in depth then I'll have to focus on controlling it. I can establish a link to it, see through its eyes etc. I can control its movements and even make it speak in a voice mostly like his as his throat and mouth will be built the same. But someone will have to watch over me as all my focus will have to be on the walker. A rat could eat me up like that and I wouldn't notice till I lost too much blood to live. Still if..." "I do believe we're being watched," said Oni's voice in the air. "I doubt anyone has seen her, but there's someone in one of the trees just up the road. Might be a bandit I suppose. She is hiding and watching."
  15. "We have a bandit hideout," said Oni's voice from nowhere in particular. She'd retreated into spirit form in Tuma's body to preserve her strength when they started walking. "Bandits who prey on simple townsfolk and see no problem in hiring the fool who I just invited for dinner. I don't think we're talking about some major league warlord or metaphysical entity somehow. Against that we have a godling, a mage who can make blood explode, my beloved demonologist and necromancer husband, and me, a simple demon. What do you think they'll have at their hideout that we can't deal with?" She fell silent for a moment as she examined the nearby area. That's when she caught sight of the dagger that Dan had stolen from the bandit. She chuckled softly. "If it makes you feel any better though, we have a ready decoy. I'm guessing that dagger you're carrying is from the bandit we just killed. In which case, you and my dear Tuma both had the same idea. See, he had me 'steal' part of the man's body. I took his heart, which he's shown me already is the second most powerful part of the body when it comes to creating undead. If your dagger will allow us to get in then he can use that to create an undead simulacrum of the bandit himself... which should at least give us the jump on them."
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