“Your benefactors are convinced of your intent and expertise and have commissioned you to found a settlement in the new world. Your expedition has been approved. Congratulations.” He placed the parcel on the tabletop and slid it to your seat. A moments unwrapping revealed it contained Letters of Marque, a note from the King of Gault, land and mineral permits and a nobleman's signet and letter seal. “That package is your charter.” he interrupted cheerfully. “Keep it close.” He leaned back then like he was not in fact squatting on a stool. “Your ships will sail for Peregrin Minor in late summer. They should make land just before spring. There may be a couple cold weeks but you'll be well entrenched when it starts warming up.” His eyes narrowed on you as his arms crossed over his chest. He leaned in to rest his elbows on the table, bringing his peering eyes closer to yours. “Bear in mind that you represent Gault down there. Our empire's reputation is sailing with you. The King will be keeping a watchful eye on your colony. So will we.”
“But apart from that, pay your benefactors and stay out of trouble and everything should be hunky-dory! Ha! Correct? Right old mate? Anyway, best of luck down there. We're all pulling for you!” He chuckled lightly and shook his head and then reiterated “The business. The business. You should know you won't be the only settlement, you might have as many as a dozen competitors. Fortunately they're all Gaultese. Pyrenze tried to outbid us for land claims but, what the crown wants the crown gets... If you see anyone sporting a foreign flag while your down there report it to us, but don't expect to. The land is uninhabited and Gault holds claim to the entire eastern coastline. Its unreasonable to expect anyone would land on the southern cape or along the west coast. Choppy seas.” He began collecting his things then and stood from his table, indicating with a nod for you to do the same.
“You'll likely be landing in the heart of the jungle. It's all jungle there, the whole east coast mostly, and past that we don't know what to expect. Just... get to someplace habitable as quick as you can and start excavating something for us. If relics found in Peregrin Major are reliable, Peregrin Minor is where the real treasures are buried. Pull them up on our behalf and we can make you very wealthy.”
The two of you had made it to the doorway of the Cadburry Whale before he stopped you by squeezing your shoulder, pulling you closer towards him. In a whisper you hear, “Oh, Yes. The need-to-knows. Don't be alarmed by buildings. Or ruins. They're long abandoned. The land is empty. And if you find anything ... unnatural ... let the crown decide how we handle it. And who finds out. He gives you a hearty clap on the back and returns to his normal timber “And try not to look so serious! Gault likes its heroes plucky. Maybe have your portrait done before the end of summer. Give history something to remember that bonnie face by. Ha!" Another clap on the shoulder and he was gone, like a feeble gust across the darkening bay. It was over. Peregrin Minor would be yours. And summer could not come quickly enough.
"Alright, I've taken precious minutes out of my life to read your drat four paragraph intro. What the hell is all of this? Make it quick or I swear to God I'm gonna-"
Welcome to Peregrin Minor! .............................................................................................................. it's super cool.....
This is a Colony game set on pseudo earth. You're a citizen of Gault, our functioning analogue for Great Britain - if Great Britain had remained pastoral instead of embracing empires. The colonies on Peregrin Minor will be Gault's first. And it's about time because Pyrenze (France and Spain if it was one place and never stopped kicking rear end) has colonies over half the free world. The balance of power is definitely in their favor and it's time to change that. Two continents have been discovered in the last twenty years. Peregrin Major - the larger more northerly continent. And Peregrin Minor - marginally smaller but more lush, connected to Peregrin Major through a thin equatorial land bridge. The Pyrentine have already claimed almost all of Peregrin Major. But Peregrin Minor is still untouched. That's where you come in.
You'll be founding a colony. Growing your colony. Exploring the unknown. Looting ruins. Trying to promote your own devious machinations. In the spirit of real life colonies you may end up throwing off the yolk of your abusive empire. All of you might get together to write a constitution. Or you might go to war with each other. At the very least you should give the continent a nicer name.
You might also have to guard your colony and mind from hellspawn night-horrors... Might. No promises.
"This is brilliant beyond all reasonable expectations. You're clever and sexy. How do I play in your game?"
Description/Pic: (either or both are acceptable.)
Skills [+8] - pick up to four skills.
Drawbacks [-4] - pick two drawbacks.
Who Holds Your Charter?:
(A charter is your authorization to found villages and colonies in the new world. It can have been granted by either the King of Gault or some other influential industry, personage or collective; if you pick the latter option, please describe your benefactor in detail. A brief list of reasonable options would include: The Church of Gault, The King’s Illicit Half-Brother, The Lumber Industry Magnates, The Royal Department of Wildlife and Wilderness Preservation, etc. Something in that vein. People can share the same benefactor, if anyone wishes to.)
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
(Begin the game with a well stocked surplus of one kind of resource, supply or item. A brief list of reasonable option might include: Weapons, Rations, Artisans, Horses, etc. Something in that vein. Alternately if you can think of a purpose for an empty ship that does not involve shipping, or you wish to sail to the new world with one empty vessel, you can describe what you choose to do with the ship.)
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World? (Create a [+2] Skill for your colonists)
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home? Tell us something, or a couple something’s, about Gault. Keep this portion in-character and please try not to contradict other entries.)
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper? (Same as above, but without concern for contradicting stories. Pyrenze can be a complicated place...)
"Okay. But what if I want to find you? Because I want to find you... It'll be fun! We can talk about the game or something. Come on, tell me where to find you."
Follow this link to join us in Discord. If you don't have Discord, you should download it. It's free and awesome. And we're gonna be playing this game mostly on Discord with this thread serving as a central hub for information so ... Join Us.
I'm American. And I'm up all night about half the time. I keep irregular enough hours I'll be able to gm for basically anyone. And when I'm not on, my Co-GM AnonymousIdiot is very regular. Talk with us and we'll be your friends, I guess.
"It's not enough! I need more! I'm so obsessed I can't stop thinking about this game! Do you have like, head-cannon I could obsessively scroll through while I'm waiting on you to respond in Discord? What's the King's blood type?!"
I picture Peregrin Minor as like South America, from the Amazon to the Andes just a very diverse and naturally elegant continent. Peregrin Major is similarly, in my head, built like North America. The feel of the RP will be similar to the founding of the 13 colonies of the early United States. I'd like to see players cooperating to write constitutions and arguing over where the world's capital should be, in between robbing ancient tomes like Indiana Jones's sugar-fiending little brother. It seemed to I and AnAnonymousIdiot that a colonization RP ran the risk of being a little culturally insensitive. As such we've decided to remove the game from the realm of realism by making the continent totally empty and including a fantasy horror subplot. Be prepared for the game to turn scary later. Technology is gonna be appropriately 18th century. Pyrenze will have fancier tech than us because Gault hasn't begun to industrialize and Pyrenze has.
AnAnonymousIdiot and I both look for a healthy sense of originality when evaluating characters. We like weird ideas best, typically, and we encourage all applicants to embrace their surreal side a bit while making entries. We'll be keeping the game open for apps until next Saturday, the 27th of May.
"You're so Perfect..."
Nah, babe. You're perfect.
|# ? May 19, 2017 05:59|
|# ? Feb 22, 2018 14:55|
|# ? May 19, 2017 06:04|
|# ? May 19, 2017 06:05|
Name: Hakonia Alkasaki (In Feial rendering her name is Alkasaki Hakonia, it is presented here in standard Gault scheme for clarity)
Backstory: Hakonia Alkasaki was born to the Feial Clans, matriarchal tribes living on the northern extremes of Gault in it's cruelest, coldest mountain range - the Shalkik. The Feial are nomads. They live by horseback and yurt - tending goat herds, hunting what they can, and gathering in the brief spring. Once, the Feial were the prized light cavalry of the Gault. Their bows made them fearsome hit-and-run attackers and they served as skirmishers, raiders, and scouts. But plague, raids from their fellow Gaults, and increasingly harsh winters have dwindled their numbers.
Hakonia was raised on stories of their glorious past, told by elders and bone carvings. Those memories have crystallized into the guiding principals of her life. To bring the Feial Clans back from the brink, to make them strong and proud. Her sharp eyes, nimble hands, and sharper tongue brought her success as a hunter. And to be a good hunter in Feial society is everything. By 25 she was the Mother of the Alkasaki Clan, and at 29 a gathering of the tribes gave her the title of Great Mother. Her duty was nothing less than seeking the salvation of the Feial. And she did it by doing what no else could, traveling south to petition the King for aid. They wanted salt, goats (for milk, for coats, for meat), and maybe firewood. They got this. It was considered a betrayal and insult, for their service they were...sent away.
Both Accurate and Precise (+4) Hakonia's incredible dexterity and sharp eyesight combine to make her the most gifted living archer among the Feial Clans. She's not bad with a musket, either. In general, any task that calls for hand-eye coordination and a careful hand is easy for her.
Stealthy (+2) Hakonia is exceedingly quiet, and able to sit still for hours.
Survivalist (+2) - Hakonia has spent her whole life living in the bleakest wilderness in all of Gault. She's learned how to make the most of anything and everything she's come across. Nothing goes to waste, nothing.
Iliterate (-2) Hakonia has little book knowledge, and has never learned to read. Not much use in the frostbitten wilderness, after all.
Supersitious (-2) Feial are highly supersitious, and Hakonia is expected to set a good example. As a result she is unusually strict in her observance of several rituals. The primary concern with foreigners is her use of salt. She must spread a small line of salt mingled with her blood before speaking to a foreign male, and must "cleanse" a foreign structure with salt before entering. She must only do this once, and only with foreign structures.
Who Holds Your Charter?
The King. That damned king. We humiliated ourselves by asking for his aid and he gave us...this. It's an insult, but it would be a greater insult to turn away his "aid". And so we go to what he must think will be our death. We will not die. We have survived worse.
To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
We already had to throw out their iron to make room for our yurts and goat herds. What use do we have for...their baubles? The last ship contains what truly matters to us - bags of good elk pemmican, clean water, and the sacred salt. (Rations)
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World?
My sisters, my family. As many of the Feial Clans as we can stuff in their foul smelling boats. (+2 Ranged Combat)
Feial Culture: Feial clans are strictly matriarchial. Child-rearing is considered a communal task. When Feial socialize among themselves they use Last Name-First Name, but understand the rest of Gault culture enough to know they prefer First-Last and can change to that to avoid confusion. Their history is mostly passed down orally, through bone carvings, through the art on their yurts. Every Feial woman is expected to be able to track, kill, and dress an animal on their own. They also tend herds, and hunt for salt. Men are used primarily for camp labor, and gathering during the spring. Men are not allowed to own weapons, or speak to a woman before being spoken to, a man who touches a Feial woman without consent traditionally has the offending hand cut off. Feial religious life primarily focuses on the three pillars of survival - fire, water, and salt.
In combat a Feial woman carries three weapons - a greatbow to be used for long range combat on foot (also a sign of social status), a much smaller recurve for use from horseback, and a spear. They also carry a utility knife, for obvious reasons.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
We will remember the Shalkik mountains. Our first home. Their winds howled, the cold bit deep into our necks, but they were home. We will remember the Gaults who raided us in our leanest times. We will remember their betrayal. We will remember the King sent us here to be rid of us. We served with honor, always completing our contracts, collecting medals and accolades. The second we asked for help, we were thrown away.
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
They speak of strength of arms, and great riches. Guns that can match our bows, and function in bitter cold. If they can pay us, we will serve. We are loyal only to ourselves now.
The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at May 21, 2017 around 08:54
|# ? May 21, 2017 07:31|
Name: John Smith
John Smith, Professor at Noxford and long time supporter of the arts and science. Born in a rural village, his intellect marked him apart and he soon found his way to the big city of Tondon, where he worked in a paper mill while attending Noxford. He suffered an unfortunate industrial accident there and had his left leg crushed. While it never healed right, he managed to devise a spring assisted brace that let him walk almost normally again with the assistance of a cane. In a eureka moment he patented the spring design and its use in a number of industrial applications, not to mention carriages, brought him both wealth and acclaim in academia. Over the years he made a number of inventions and discoveries culminating in John being made a professor at Noxford. However he chaffed at the restrictions that the church had placed upon the university and found himself in trouble several times over it. When word of colonial expeditions to Peregrin Minor reached him, he was able to persuade Leonard, the Kings Illicit Half-Brother to get him a charter and used his personal wealth to outfit a fifth ship with a large amount of industrial equipment. Then he recruited heavily from Noxford students and industrial worker families, promising new open spaces to build and raise families, free from the churches restrictions and plenty of opportunity for all.
Skills [+8] -
John is very intelligent man and has studied/taught most of his life at Noxford. To say he is on the bleeding edge is no exaggeration.
Steel Mind (+2)
John raised himself up out of a hut in the woods to a man of science using luck, ingenuity, and strength of will.
Academia can be a dog eat dog world, and to rise John learned to art of speaking. If not silver tongued, its at least copper plated.
Drawbacks [-4] -
Lame Leg (-2)
Crushed in an industrial accident and never healed right. A brace and a cane let him get around almost normally, but any fast movement is at great effort.
Dark Phobia -(2)
Irrational, John knows, but the dark has always frightened him as a child and he has not escaped its grasp as a man.
Who Holds Your Charter?:
The King’s Illicit Half-Brother, Arthur FitzRoy. Long time supporter of science and shielded from the churches ire by his blood. His funding and status as a patron as kept the church at bay from Noxford
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
All the needed parts to quickstart industry. Milling and lathe equipment, waterwheels, ready to fabricate metal and all the works.
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World? (Science +2)
Scientists and Engineers. Mostly younger folk who seek to escape the church's choking grasp on the sciences, and a couple of professors wanting a fresh start. Culturally they're still Gault but they're a younger generation, less hidebound by their elders ways.
Dr. Anders, 53y. Noted explorer of (Not-Egypt) and archaeologist. Insisted on making the trip to "avoid crippling boredom" and expressed much interest in possible ruins.
Dr. Seljons, 36y. Accomplished medical doctor and surgical pioneer. Taking a new start to escape the scandal of eloping with one of his students.
Dr. Casaway, 39y. Engineer eager to escape the restraints of the church on his research.
Professor Ennami, 30y. Brilliant chemist who has been tried twice by the church and barely escaped. Hopes to no longer have to fear them coming.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
Noxford University, John's home for many years as a professor. Its hallowed halls hold all the high learning of Gault. He'll miss less the nearby church and its priests always "visiting" to make sure things don't get too heretical.
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
They say the men of Pyrenze never shave because they believe to do so would weaken them. That beard braiding is done as a sign of status, with rings of precious metal placed in the braids to signify wealth.
Quornes fucked around with this message at Jul 5, 2017 around 23:08
|# ? May 22, 2017 02:24|
Clare is a natively born bastard Prince of Gault, disinherited by way of the Clergy after the birth of his younger half brother. Despite this, he has taken a name by assuming the mantle of Knight Protector of the Crown; one of the most forthright organizations of knights and holy soldiers blessed by the Church. The entity of course, given such esteem, still, by way of suppressing the Feial insurgency in the North so long ago. In modernity, the Order has taken a more ceremonial symbolism in such times of peace with the surrounding nations. However, resources are funneled by the Church and Crown towards the armament of the Order as it has become the Crown’s personal detachment of trained men. Clare has, by an intrinsic dark ambition, and in lieu of his ability to attain the crown, taken a pivotal leadership position within the Protectorate, and levies it against a weak Kingship in terms of what could effectively be determined as tithings against an organization with the power to stage a successful coup.
More importantly to his character, in civil action against unruly burgers and dukes, Clare has proven himself well beyond the position he holds. Countlessly, rebellions are quelled with few to tell any tale but to his immaculate handlings of such regrettable failings of compromise; though often the results are morose as war always is. Factions against the King have, in fact, been sparse since his Order has been wielded against the populace of the Kingdom itself. Word travels of horrible atrocity in its wake, rebels flayed alive and hung from crosses in droves on the roads from the Capital to the place the Order was sent; and men seemingly brainwashed against the evils committed along the way at their destinations. These forces, of course, always seem helmed by none other than the disinherited Prince.
As well, he has a small brood of unclaimed bastard children currently being reared in the back rooms of various brothels throughout the Gault kingdom, that are rarely acknowledged as carrying the birthright of the crown, though he did not ever bother to well cover his tracks. Wraight’s strong claim upon the throne, however, has come at a cost. In trade for a vast sum of wealth, his services have been determined more beneficial elsewhere, as an Arm of Church and Crown to subjugate the land of Peregrin Minor beneath the glorious iron fist of God. And, dutifully to his position and stature, he had no choice but to commit to the will of his superiors.
Icon of War (+4): Clare is a shining general; capable of leading men beyond their self imposed limits, to great heroism and renown. His martial prowess is nearly unmatched in the lands of Gault.
Blessed By God (+2): If only by way of his connection with the church, Wraight is rarely put to question. Those of weaker wills seek his judgement and blessing. In matters of religion, his word is lawful. When support is nowhere to be found, it can be found in God, through him.
Armored Heart (+2): No setback can put down Clare’s will to fight, no dark seems so impenetrable for him not to bring himself to bear it. His will is like that of iron in all matters, as is his pride, and his heart can be as cold as it is stubborn.
Utterly Impious (-2): Despite his standing in the church and his will, when given the opportunity Wraight indulges his demons vehemently. Wrath, Greed, Gluttony, Hubris and Lust stand out among his less kempt virtues, and in that order.
Ambitious (-2): His goal is always for better; and insatiable. This, of course, leads him to make mistakes in his dealings with those wiser and more calculating or deceptive than he himself.
Who Holds Your Charter?:
The Church of Gault, in its high importance. The King holds no sway in the hearts of the people and lines our pockets. Unlike his, our cause is noble. We shall pull this land into our grip, and pry from its secrets untold riches for the glory of God and his devout.
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
A contingent of the Holy Order, a Relic of our Church, horses and enough food for them to be kept. All this blasted, overgrown Hell needs is the Glory of our Word and the Devout who speak it.
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World? (Create a [+2] Skill for your colonists)
The Righteous (+2): The men and women under Clare’s care are those of deep religious belief. This benefits them by way of solace in their endless toil; and promotes deep, unquestioning cohesion.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
Clare has never forgiven the weak king, his father, for the treachery of stealing his birthright. By decree of will of God, he could no longer wear the crown. His brother bears the same weaknesses of their father, of course, and thusly Wraight holds no good will toward the Crown or its current line.
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
The sailors speak in hushed tongues only about the Pyrenzen women. Extravagant beauty, and loose of morals and dress. A fact certainly contemptible by the modest preferences of God. The Pyrenzen men would likely keep them at heel as they should, if they were not all so dandled in wine and spirits.
wtsnaename fucked around with this message at May 22, 2017 around 17:44
|# ? May 22, 2017 06:37|
It's good to see this back and with a bit more interest the last time KhediveRex. Had my previous application on file so I figure, why not?[/u]
Sir Andrew Gene Blackwood
Sir Andrew Gene Blackwood is the Son of Baronet Johan Melville Blackwood the celebrated war hero, who saved the life of the king at the battle of Helgrady. For his courage Johan was made a nobleman and invited to court, quickly becoming a favourite of the royals and the nobility. By chance, the kings first son and heir apparent, the crown Prince Frederick Floric Antes was born within a few months of Sir Andrew and so it was ordained that the two would be true friends for life.
Much to the chagrin of many at court, the two did indeed become fast friends. Some would say the strength of their friendship was “inspirational”or “concerning” is they were feeling less charitable. Some would even say the strength of the bond between Andrew and the Prince was “inappropriate”, but any who would say that within earshot would soon find themselves on the wrong end of Andrews swordpoint.
In either case, recent rumours, a certain degree of controversy from the church and the upcoming wedding of Prince Frederick has all meant that it has become… politically expedient for Andrew to be out of the country for a few months or years. Fortunately, this series of events has lined up nicely with the Kingdom of Gaults desires for outward expansion. By chartering Andrew with the responsibility of founding a colony, the King gets a loyal servant on Peregrin Minor and a walking, talking controversy out of Gault where it can explode mostly harmlessly.
- - - -
+2 Royal Prerogative - Being the only son of a war hero who was elevated to the nobility for saving the life of the king has it’s advantages. Andrews father was made a Baronet for his heroism and he and Andrew have been fixtures of the court for many years allowing them to curry many favours and friends among the royal family. Andrews association with the crown prince is also a source of much influence. Even on the other side of the ocean, Andrew’s word holds much sway.
+2 Dueling Aficionado - The fickle nature of court life means the nobility are constantly after some form of distraction and entertainment. Andrew has had many “hobbies” over the years; horse breeding, botany, cattle breeding, poetry, sheep breeding and so forth. One of the few things that have held Andrews interest for more then a few months in dueling. And at court, where yesterdays friends are today's enemies, there has been plenty of opportunity for practice.
+4 Palace Education - Being a favourite of the court and the royal family of similar age to the Crown Prince, Andrew was often made subject to the various tutors along with Prince Frederick. While education was often the furthest thing from Andrews mind, it’s hard not to absorb some knowledge from some of the best tutors the universities of Gault had to offer.
-2 Religious Controversy - It all started going downhill when Andrew was nine, when he and young Frederick threw jam tarts at a visiting priest for having a “stupid hat”. Since then it’s been controversy after controversy, coming to a head with a paper published only a few months ago postulating the theory of “Andretics”, a more catchy title compared to “The Andrew Gene Theorem Of Offspring Inheritance”, based on Andrews experience with animal and plant breeding, which suggests life was not made whole cloth by god, but rather a number of factors. This outrageous and heretical claim, coupled with the (what some would say inappropriate) friendship with the Crown Prince has meant that Andrew has had to leave Gault very, very quickly.
-2 Foolhardy -This recent spat with the Church is just another example of Andrews inability to back away from something. Mountain climbing, fighting with the church, fighting with pretty much anyone really. Andrew is stubborn and foolhardy to an extreme, and although a bit of stubbornness will be a necessary quality in the establishment of a colony, Andrew takes it to a whole new level.
Who Holds Your Charter?:
Andrew’s esteemed [I]friend, the Crown Prince Frederick Floric Antes of Gault, is the holder of his Charter.
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
Andrew’s briefing was quite… brief; so hurried was his departure from Gault he scarcely had time to pack all of his furniture! But there was one thing Andrew refused to leave without and that was his newest project. A cattle breeding program, hoping to create a more robust and practical cattle breed for use of the peasants in less hospitable areas. While the meat is not as tender as the Wellington breed and the milk not as creamy as the Borgendale blend, Blackwood cattle are hardy, resistant to all temperatures, are milk-able and edible both and above all, Andrew refused to leave without them. So, the fifth ship became home to a small herd of very special cattle.
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World?
+2 Industrious - In either a form of ironic joke or genuine care of his part, Prince Frederic managed to charter some recently out of work guild hall members as settlers for Andrews aspiring colony. Diligent, hard-working and industrious to Andrews… not any of those things, the desperate workers know who really pays their contracts and will remain fastidious in their duties, whether or not this whole “colony” thing actually manages to work out.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
Ahh, what I will remember most fondly about Gault is the Rontham Road. Many years ago some very clever king decided that all the best universities and colleges should be all grouped together in the same place, to allow lecturers and professors easier access to materials from other universities, promote inter-disciplinary unity and to have a right big booze up every Saturday night. At one end of the road you have the Royal Chartered College of Surgical Excellence, on the other end you have the Gaultian Military Academy, where all the strapping young officers go to begin their learning in the military arts. In between the two there are twenty seven other institutions each catering to different disciplines; mathematics, architecture, literary works anything else you could possible want. And where they havn’t stuffed a university, they’ve got salons, coffee houses and pubs. Pubs galore! It is a fantastic place to be whether you’re looking for some learning in a certain field, art and culture, a fine debate among peers or if you’re in the mood for a punch-up.
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
The sailors whisper of but one thing coming out of the Pyrenze Peninsula; war. War with Angelerre and Monte-Farbach on the continent. War between the highest nobles for control of the crown. War with the nations of Cantrica to the far south, and even with Xing’Ing and Raptnan at the furthest known reaches of then east, and wars with nations even beyond that! You would scarcely think they had the men for so many wars! The war talk that passes through the most lips however, is the talk of war between the Pyrenze and Gault. The Pyrenze sit atop the golden throne of power and while seemingly merciful with the supplicant, it appears that this recent attempt at grabbing a slice of the new world for ourselves has angered them greatly.
|# ? May 22, 2017 10:28|
"I'm sure you are already aware that it took Gault thirty years to adopt the crossbow. Thirty. Years. Thirty years after first being introduced to it through war, through death, through the armor of our knights being punctured and pierced and perforated, through our armies and superior longbowmen being outclassed by inexpensive hordes of untrained conscripts armed with cheap weaponry the Church finally grant an exception to its archaic rule against technological complexity.
I'm not sure there's a more apt metaphor for our country, sir. We could have industry and success. Instead, we have stagnancy and death. We have the Church."
Letter to the King's brother, His Grace Arthur FitzRoy, Duke of Brightwell
Sir Malcolm Hawke
Hawke can pinpoint the exact moment his country swung back into mediocrity. He knows the exact date. He wouldn't never say it outloud, of course, being both as an ardent monarchist and a keen survivalist but he knows all the same. It was day of the birth of the current of the king. The "Miracle Prince" he was called at the time.
The old king, His Royal Highness Richard VI, had no heirs. His wife had produced no children in twenty-five years of (quite-loving) marriage. And worst, he had no close male relatives of appropriate blood. The Church was and still is radically anti-divorce. And so his Royal Highness began... drifting from the Church. To put it lightly. This is all common knowledge. A young woman named Anne, a servingwoman in the castle, was determined by a panel of royal advisers to be an excellent candidate for siring an heir to the throne. She was young. Strong. And exceptionally beautiful. And, sure enough, she produced King Richard a son: Arthur. Arthur was given the surname "FitzRoy" as befitting the king's acknowledgement of him and was placed in the Royal Nursery.
This put the whole Church in an awful tizzy. Adultery being a sin and all. But the more dust they kicked up, the further King Richard separated himself from them. Several cardinals were stripped of power or forced to resign. Certain Church lands were seized by the Crown for development. The king, the Church, and indeed all of Gault was at a turning point.
But then the Queen became pregnant. She was fifty-seven years old. The "Miracle Prince" was born. The pendulum swung back. And the Church of Gault has never been more powerful.
Hawke is a loyal servant to the Crown and a traditionalist and a family man and a Church-goer but he is frustrated by the state of his country. He has seen first hand the damage the Church can inflict upon Gault. To live in a time when "work smarter not harder" is a borderline heretical thought could drive any man to near madness. But Hawke is a military man, a decorated naval officer, and he has witnessed first hand the unnecessary death born from an edict against innovation. One cannot retroactively prepare for war. Gault almost lost part of its coastline to the Pyrenze and Hawke was almost excommunicated and imprisoned for saving it.
The Royal Navy-- highly skilled but horribly outgunned--was in disarray following the death of the Vice-Admiral and the disastrous battle outside of Kingsport. Everyone else limped off to save their ships and to live to fight another day. Hawke did the opposite. He docked, packed all remaining gunpowder both from his ship and the city at large, scuttled his beloved Horizon to hide his presence, and waited for the Pyrenze to arrive.
And then he blew it up. All of it.
The Pyrenze Armada was shattered. The city of Kingsport (if not the dock) was saved. And Hawke was put on trial by the Church.
He would be released, of course. After public outcry and a little royal pressure. But it left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. The consensus amongst all parties is that it would be best for him to take his "talents" to the New World and everyone would get to save face. The Crown could reward a hero. The Church could remove a thorn. And Hawke could receive a real opportunity to better his country.
Veteran in Service of the Crown -- Academy graduate. Distinguished officer. Decorated war hero. Gentleman of questionable moral character. Questionable at least as far as the Church concerned since Hawke has routinely demonstrated and vocally stated that he values the importance of his men's lives over strict adherence to tradition and dogma. +2 War
Modernist in Service of the Country -- Hawke knows there is only one thing that changes the world faster than war... gold. And there is plenty of that to be made in the New World. Without the suffocating stranglehold of the Church to stymie innovation and invention and advancement, there is very real opportunity to facilitate change for the country. Even if it has to happen far, far from the country itself. +2 Business +4 Innovation
Revolutionary -2 -- Men who look to the future always concern those in charge of the status quo. After all, how far a stretch is it really for a man who rails against one tradition to move on to another?
Poorly-Allied -2 -- He might be beloved by the common man but his friends in power number few. And his one major benefactor, the holder of his Charter, isn't much better off himself.
Who Holds Your Charter?:
Technically, the Charter is held by the king's half-brother, Arthur FitzRoy, the Duke of Brightwell. The two men share a proclivity towards progressive thought and a desire to see Gault industrialize. Unofficially and a bit ironically, the Church of Gault is also involved. The public outcry that stemmed from the trial of "the Hero of Kingsport" was a tremendous egg on the face of the current hierophant. But the wily old statesman didn't ascend unto his position of higher power without learning how to turn an egg into an omelette. He's taking this event as an opportunity from God to dump the Church prisons--and the country as a whole--of undesirables.
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World? (Create a [+2] Skill for your colonists)
Free-thinkers. Inventors. Dissidents. Artists. Atheists. Debtors. Divorcees. The Church's condemnation casts a wide net. So Hawke's future colonists might not be singularly focused or particularly specialized in any one field (save for the fact that they are unwelcome and unliked and persecuted in their home country) But, goodness, there are an awful lot of them. +2 Numerous
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
As Hawke see's it: the future. Raw materials. Metal. Tools. Everything necessary to build a foundry and then enough resources left over to begin short-scale production.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home? (Tell us something, or a couple something’s, about Gault. Keep this portion in-character and please try not to contradict other entries.)
"Gault is the greatest country in the world. God save the King."
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
"Their king is a decadent, indecent slob unfit for leadership let alone a crown. Their soldiers are well-trained yet decidedly over reliant on their equipment-- in a fair fight we'd whip them three-to-one. Their civilians are hot-headed, quick to anger, but honorable. Prisoners of war are well-treated. Their Peregrin Major colonies are suffering from an unknown ailment or malady. I'm not sure what it is but it's causing quite a concern amongst those in power."
|# ? May 22, 2017 13:38|
Calvin "Praise-be-Azathoth, the Great Leveler" Montressor, Patriarch of the Order of the Ebon Sickle
We are a simple faith. An ancient faith. We feed the earth, and the earth feeds us. Now there are those who claim that we practice strange and unholy rites, human sacrifice, poisoning wells, trying to awaken ancient slumbering gods. Fools. We haven't practiced those rites in at least 300 years. Not since the Conclave of Bloodhenge. Instead of trying to bring him into this world to remake it in his image, we now know that by living a good and virtuous life, in the name of Azathoth, we will become one with him in the next life, the true life. Still, the Church of Gault practices persecution of the old ways. And so we try to live our lives as best we can, away from the centers of power of Gault. The King, may Azathoth bless him, has decreed that we are to be tolerated, but what of the next king? Or the one after that? We simply want to live our life, to worship our gods in peace.
Charismatic Preacher (+4): Whether it be spreading the faith to the masses, or stirring up the passions of the faithful, Calvin is quite skilled at the arts of religious oratory. This has served him well in his decades of preaching in the streets and fields of Gault, much to the dismay of the Church.
Expert Theologian (+2): Naturally, Calvin has studied the legends and beliefs of the Order of the Ebon Sickle extensively. But he has also studied the legends and beliefs of many other faiths as well, the better to understand how they might be convinced or converted.
Tough old Bastard (+2): Calvin has spent decades wandering Gault, preaching and ministering to his flock. They are a disliked cult by many, and he has spent much time sleeping in haylofts and ditches, being chased and occasionally beaten by angry mobs, and dodging thrown rocks and rotten fruit. This has made him extremely hardy for a man his age.
Heretic (-2): In the eyes of many, he and his followers are heretics, accused of ancient and foul crimes. Some of them even may have been true, once. But the suspicion lingers, many of the faithful of the more mainstream religions fear and distrust him.
Favors Owed (-2): A lifetime spent as a persecuted minority has meant that Calvin has accepted help from many people who do not see eye to eye with the crown or mainstream authorities. Smugglers, foreigners, other heretics, criminals... and they have done him and his flock great favors in the past. How can he turn them down when they ask for a little help?
Who holds the charter?
The Earl of Weselton. The Earl's family has been a secret member of the cult for generations. This shouldn't be surprising, given that the ritual site of Bloodhenge lies on the Earl's lands, but for centuries they have escaped notice. Mostly because Weselton is an isolated part of the kingdom, in the swamps and moors of the east. Perhaps the Earl has grown too accustomed to his comfortable life to want to uproot himself and travel to the new world, but he has arranged for us to travel in his stead, to build a new Bloodhenge in the wilderness.
What sort of People will we bring?
+2 Famers: The faithful are mostly drawn from the farmers and peasants of the east. Hardy folk, used to long days and backbreaking labor at the plough and the scythe.
To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
I fear that our relics may not be safe once so many of the faithful have left. We will bring as many of the sacred texts of old, plus our ancient relics. The golden sickle of Carcossa, the Chronicle of the Ever-thirsting God, the Veritas Prophecies, and of course, the Skull of the Elder Soul must all come with us, to be safe.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
The fertile earth, our orchards and our fields. The sacred spaces of our ancestors. Bloodhenge. It is said that it was built by giants, great stone pillars hewn from ancient mountains. Once the stones were carved with secrets, but they have long since worn away. The Skull of the Elder Soul was found buried in the center. We are sad to lose our connection to the land.
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
Azathoth teaches us that the nations of the earth are as dust, false lines built by men to divide themselves. We have no enmity towards Pyrenze, and if any of our brethren there have also travelled to the new world, we will welcome them with open arms. We do fear that their persecution of the Order has been more thorough than that of Gault, so we have not heard from our brethren there in some time. They did send emissaries to the Conclave of Bloodhenge, presumably the teachings of that conclave have been adopted by our Pyrenzese brethren.
sullat fucked around with this message at May 23, 2017 around 18:48
|# ? May 23, 2017 15:46|
Mortimer Charleton Snodgrass
Nos Pondus Portant
Charles Snodgrass, the family founder, was a sheep farmer with more business sense than his neighbors. Finding himself in possession of more of their farms than he could administer himself, he became in short order a land-lord, and one of the members of the rising mercantile class, whose distastefulness to the clergy and the nobility had finally been outweighed by their self-evident essentiality to life in Gault.
That was three generations ago, and today Snodgrass Wool Wholesalers is one of the preeminent cornerstones of the Gaultier wool trade and a founding member of the Iron Sea Company, a trading company licensed by the crown to dictate trade all along the dead gray seas north of the continent. Last year, patriotic as any other men of Gault, the heads of the Iron Sea Company forwarded a proposal to the King to settle an inlet in Peregrin Minor formerly used by Gaultier explorers to recaulk their ships. The thought of a trade and naval station proved agreeable to the King, and Pitchford Colonial Company was born.
The fourth Snodgrass, eldest of three brothers, was chosen to lead the expedition--and for good reason. Mortimer Snodgrass is a brilliant, intense patriarch with a sense for men and a cold, tempered optimism that has held his company through the frequent bubbles that plague Gault’s economy. He has the intention and the will to shoulder whatever burdens necessary, a trait that will serve him well in a foreign land.
The other may not. Snodgrass has shown signs of paranoia and instability since the age of thirty-eight. While unimpeachable in conduct and standing, his colleagues whisper plainly in private: Mortimer Snodgrass is slowly going mad. The PCC is heavily insured (though all colonial companies are), and Snodgrass’ younger brother, Hector, is both stabler and less… individual. If it succeeds, Pitchford has the potential to produce a stellar outpost of Gault and a foothold for trade and discovery in Peregrin Minor. If it fails… the Iron Sea Company is prepared to swallow it as an acceptable loss.
Merchant Adventurer (+4): Mortimer shows all the economic genius of his great-grandfather, backed by a childhood spent in the warehouses and cabins of his father’s merchant empire and the finest schooling money can buy. Few have more sense of coin--where to find it, and how to use it.
Good With People (+2): A talent underappreciated by many is that of human resources: delegation, promotion, and all the arts of bringing out the best that a man can be. Merchants know this talent better than any other, and Mortimer is no exception.
Inspiring (+2): Confidence breeds confidence. Mortimer’s internal sense of when to hold and when to break rarely fails, and he knows it, and acts it. The men who work under him respect his skill and are reassured of his capability, and as such will give just about anything for him.
Going Slightly Mad (-2): Exactly what caused it is unclear. Shortly after his 38th birthday Mortimer began seeing things in the shadows. He is now approaching his 41st, and is thoroughly paranoid. This illness has bleached his hair, lined his face, and was starting to affect his ability to conduct business; the family’s secret hope is that being removed from the cutthroat world of continental business will help him recover. Madness tends to fuel itself, however; Mortimer may yet recover, or the replacement of one set of shadows with another may prove no help…
Curious (-2): The world of Peregrin Minor fascinates Mortimer. The lands of the Iron Sea have been well-charted for centuries, and Gault is a solved problem. So much about this new land is unknown. What lies in its jungles? Who built the ruins that now stand empty along its shores? And these artifacts… Curiosity is a terrible bug to those who cannot temper it, and it has bitten Mortimer hard. That he has almost no skills suited to surviving on his own does not help.
Who Holds Your Charter?
“I represent the Pitchford Colonial Company, a crown-chartered association of businessmen interested in the exploration and development of Peregrin Minor. Our illustrious group--” He cranes his neck around you, looking around the room, and mutters something low that you think includes the words bastard and at least two of his fellow businessmens’ names-- “has been authorized to found a naval station for His Majesty and do whatever we see fit with the rest of the land.” He turns back to you. His smile is taut.
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
“TRADE, of course!” He looks around again, and then leans in. “I don’t for a moment believe this rot that the land is uninhabited. If there are ruins there, they didn’t just spring out of the ground full-formed. Their owners may have moved on, but they might just as well move back. And everyone wants something.” He straightens back up. “So, we’re taking a broad selection. Trinkets and beads, but also metal goods like cauldrons and kettles, a small stock of firearms--we control the powder contract, of course--and cloth.” He grins. “Cloth in seven different colors. Irresistable. And if there really is no-one there, we can always trade everything we’re taking with the other colonies.”
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World?
“Sailors, of all stripes! We are founding a merchant colony and a Royal Naval Station--all the men on the docks can smell the opportunity in both, and want to get the first taste.”
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
He leans back, and for the first time since you’ve met him he looks genuinely relaxed as he smiles and reminisces. “The docks! The docks of Kingsport Strand, even after the damage from the battle. You’ll find their like nowhere else in the world! The chatter of dozens of tongues, the creak of stilted warehouses and laden ships, the hauling and striking of cargos too numerous to name, and the energy!” He waves his hand. “Pyrenze has long since lost it, but there is an energy down at the Strand--a new hope, the combined wills of a people who have caught the whiff of new opportunity! Nowhere else in Gault will be more eager to hear of our successes. I intend not to disappoint!”
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
The seriousness and stress return, and a dark edge with them. He leans in and folds his hands. “Pyrenze did not become the mightiest empire in the world by playing aboveboard. She has spies in every port, agent provocateurs ready to cause unfortunate accidents or steal the juiciest secrets.” He leans in further. His eyes burn like coals. “Her women are the worst. I have heard the Queen controls her finest spies personally, women all. You can’t trust any woman from Pyrenze, not unless you knew her as a child. Any of them could be a fox in ermine’s white.”
Redeye Flight fucked around with this message at May 25, 2017 around 01:27
|# ? May 23, 2017 21:39|
Devotee Beatryx Mayble
Beatryx had come to the Convent of Saint Porphyrios bereft of her family name and inheritance. The wedding to a low nobleman had been called off - unexpectedly to most, but the rumors would quickly begin. She was accused of one of the most shameful vices possible in pleasant society, and would find little avail in her hometown.
The Convent offered a life of safe seclusion and rest for weary souls, who would devote the rest of their lives in service to nature and to Gault. There is simple joy and abundant utility in the cultivation of gardens, weaving of clothes and making of medicines. Without need for profit, goods can be sold to companies or customers in exchange for education and training in new studies, or for willing recruits from desperate families.
On her elevation to the rank of Devotee in the Convent, Beatryx chose to take name Mayble, having a humor about being “distant relatives to the Maples.” Free from the expectations of noble society, and being young and formally educated, she was allowed to spend as much as she desired learning the natural sciences of botany, mineralogy and alchemy. She was cast aside from polite society because, she felt, she had nothing to offer but her hand in marriage - but if she could have been useful, and if she could have been self-sufficient, she would never have needed to fear the outcome. Alchemy, with the making of healing tonics and cursing potions, allowed her a power she didn’t know she was capable of.
This singular fervor and thirst for applicable knowledge made her a natural supervisor to the Convent’s expedition to Peregrine Minor, which must hold many lost and dangerous secrets.
Expert Chemist (+4) - As a high-level Devotee in the Convent of Saint Porphyrios, Mayble has had full access to the library and alchemical storage. Though she did enjoy the simple peace of planting gardens, she was more interested in the experimentation and application of the fruits of the Convent yards.
Deft Hands (+2) - Carelessness can spill a toxin or unstable explosive, and students of alchemy in the Convent are required to learn calligraphy first, to calm their hands and prevent even the slightest mistakes.
Striking Beauty (+2) - Her fiery red hair is rare among Gaultese, and has disappointed many who come to regret the Convent’s strict oath to purity, negotiated a hundred years ago in its separation from the Church.
Neurotic (-2) - Beatryx is used to certain comforts from her position in the Convent - clean and beautiful clothes, a soft bed, interesting social company. Straying too far from her comfort zone makes her moody and quick to anger.
Dark Rumors (-2) - The Convent was once considered an honorable institution for wayward souls, but the Trials have permanently stained its reputation among the pious. Accusations of paganism, assassinations, magic and mass-fornications were levied against even the highest ranks. This resulted in the permanent severance of the Convent from the Church, in organization and mission. While the Convent still insists that it keeps the religion of Gault, this declaration is used as a crass joke by the littlefolk, who opine that those who see pleasure in planting in soil must imagine pleasure in planting in flesh.
Who Holds Your Charter?
The Fitzherbert Gentleman’s Sporting Rifle Corporation - the relatively new venture of a rich noble seeking to buy their way into prestige. The Fitzherbert Corporation has taken a gamble that the flora and minerals of Peregrine Minor may be the key to the next technological innovation in firearms. The Reverend Mother of the Convent was willing to look aside from the company’s destructive aims, for the opportunity to learn what could be found.
All the Necessaries Fit Snugly in Four Ships. You Were Chartered Five Ships. To What Use Do You Put Your Final Ship?
Black powder, liqourice, antimony butter, spirit of hartshorn, blood of cormorant; reagents and instruments to create all manners of tonics, baits and repellents. [Chemistry supplies]
What Sort of People Will You Bring To The New World?
The brothers and sisters of the Convent all receive at least rudimentary training in the taxonomy and cultivation of plants and fungi, and senior brothers and sisters take great pride and care in their work.
What Will You Remember of Gault on Your Long Voyage Away From Home?
“The tapping of sweet-sap from field maple. Stewed aubergine for supper, and black currant jelly for dessert. Picking a fresh plum to eat then and there, or to add to Sister Maxine’s rhubarb pie. Dying a gown with blue dye from woad.”
“Gault provided us many comforts that may not be found in Peregrine Minor. Some accommodations have been taken on the ships, but they will not last forever.”
When Your Sailors Whisper Rumors of Pyrenze, What Do They Whisper?
“The anhedonia of the Pyrenze - who take no pleasure in nature, and steal from the earth. They mix a hard stone to pour into the soil, upon which to erect their factories and fortifications. Where they die or retreat, it may take years to see life grow anew.”
|# ? May 27, 2017 20:00|
Alright everyone! I was looking for eight players and we have eight stellar applications so, as of this post, Peregrin Minor is closed for recruiting. If you put in an app, you're already on the discord, and you know that you're in. Because we all like talking with you!
I'm gonna go ahead and keep this thread running instead of starting a brand new one because I think it's perfectly tidy as is. The first post I reserved at the beginning of this thread is going to serve the function of keeping a list of the skills, drawbacks, resources and qualities you and your colonists acquire through the course of the game (so that we don't have to scroll through the thread to find information like that.) The second post I reserved I'm going to use like a bookmark. I'll update it regularly to have a short summary of where everyone is and what they're doing and what's going on in their story. Makes the thread a little more accessible and if someone has to take a break because of real life things, they can jump back into the game without having to read pages and pages of plot progression.
Apart from that, I'm gonna use this thread to post when I have updates that are large. Either in the sense that they pertain to everyone on the continent because they're so horrific and overwhelming, or in the sense that I've got to give everyone in the game a status update because a lot happened after I went to bed last night. In general, I'll also be posting the states of your colonies every about six months of in-game time on this thread; I'll rank you based on relative wealth and safety and the degree to which you're satisfying the needs of your benefactors back in Gault. I'll post the map to show which colonies have grown and in which directions. And I'll tell you some basic things about how the upcoming season is going to treat you, stuff like economic trends or civil unrest because of strange radicals, odd plagues sweeping around, weather patterns when they affect you.
On the other side of things, I intend discord to be where the action really happens. I'm gonna make another group for game stuff, the one we're in now can be for socializing and discussing game stuff. In the game group either I or AnonymousIdiot will be leading your characters in a traditional casual roleplaying fashion. We're hoping to emulate the feeling of being around a table with a group of friends as we really believe without that vibe going these games wither pretty quickly. So, that being said, don't feel like you need to post eight paragraphs of stunning rhetoric every time you have something to say. Anytime that you feel like doing that, beautiful. We appreciate it. And we appreciate you. But I will advise you to post it on this forum instead of on discord so that we can keep track of it easier and not lose it in a rush of more casual interactions. Plus it'll make this thread look really cool! For all the people who are going to be obsessively reading our awesome game! (Many. I have so much Confidence.)
I'm gonna be working on the opening post over the rest of this evening. I expect to have it finished sometime late tonight. Thanks again everyone for coming together to play this strange game with me. I'm charmed by this group and I'm sure we're gonna have a good time of it.
|# ? May 29, 2017 02:16|
Hakonia Alkasaki :
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, but your crew still bemoans the foul king that sent them away from their homeland. No warmth was felt for the voyage. Only a cold sort of resignation - well tempered discipline.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the South. A long journey around the cape reveals that the mainland stretches even further south across a great bay. On the horizon behind the landmass, a high mountain chain looms over temperate lowlands along the coast. Your ships make a beeline across the bay and make landfall on a flat, dry, cool grasslands. There is a harsh wind running across the coast, but the weather is not objectionable to you or your crew. It is the same severity of cold that you dealt with in your homeland.
The fields immediately around you are devoid of trees instead spotted with large boulders and half buried slags of rock. The landscape is relatively flat, movement however is encumbered by a specific plant which you have come to assume is … Like a berry? It grows in bunches on vines, covering the ground nearly everywhere in a sometimes two foot deep layer of vines and succulent fruit. There are flowers in the vinery as well, small and fragile, of a faded pink color. The fruit itself resembles eyes – clusters of eyes as grapes may grow – cream colored and spherical with a blue spot on one side. No one in your camp has attempted eating one yet. You suspect however that they are edible. And if that is the case you won't be short of simple rations for sometime, encumbered though movement may be. You do admit though, it is odd to see a fruit growing so plentifully in a such a cold climate...
The place you've made landfall may make good farmland, or grazing land. It's reasonable to suspect that there is decent mineral wealth in the soil. You have no access to wood. You can see in the very distant northwest a mountain chain looming up above the horizon. The northlands, through telescope, seem more lush with traditional vegetation. Going north however will have you following the mountain chain, not bringing you closer to it. To the northwest you see only more berry fields, and more various boulders. And a mountain. To the southwest, along the coast, you can see the berry fields grow less thick, though still dominating the ground cover. Boulders however grow more common.
Pertinent stuff: Temperate Grassland, Encumbered by Vines, Coastline, Southern Cape
Resources: Eye-Fruit. Unexplored Minerals.
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, your crew however wears the scars of long draining months at sea. Some keep their minds busy studying or lecturing, some merely lay about languishing. Cabin fever has not struck you yet. Your mind is on fire with possibilities.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the South. A long journey around the southern cape, a dense and unfathomable jungle, reveals that the mainland stretches even further south across a great bay. You and your crew decide not to cross the bay, staying safely to the coastline instead. And you are rewarded by the discovery of a great sea opening into the continent. You travel west now hugging the same jungle coastline that greeted on you on the far side of the continent. But as you travel further north along Peregrin Minor's interior coastline, you discover not a lake at the end of a river, but a vast sea. As big as the Red Sea, or the Dark Sea, bigger than the Frost Sea by leagues! It's too much to explore now, but you decide to set up camp in a natural harbor formed by a small peninsula jutting off the west coast of this new found sea.
A bit of surveying reveals you have snaked your way behind the cliff-pocked, barren highlands that were Peregrin Minor's first greeting to your crew. You are at the southern end of a mountain chain that runs northwardly along the interior coast of the continent. You find yourself in a pocket plateau region, nestled tightly between the jungles in the south, the highlands in the east and the mountains in the north. The weather is warm and still, with low humidity. Your sailors are happy to make camp and eagerly unload the ship. Some discuss the scarcity of foliage or vegetation, until they sea the wealth of wild birds. Pelicans and seagulls and geese, big, fat eagles – vultures and ravens. You'd never seen so many birds in one place.
You don't know how many notice, but as night falls and the ships are being unloaded, while the sun is setting over the mountains to your north west, something distinctly pyramidal stands out in the natural silhouettes of the mountain. It seems man made, not that its easy to guess with that sort of lighting. But if it is man made, its construction would be a feat of modern engineering, nestled high the crest of such a razor backed mountain range. You're not sure how you'd even get up there, let alone with construction equipment.
The place you've made landfall is a high altitude plateau with dry soil and warm climates. It won't be the most plentiful farmland but it will be a much easier habitat to survive in than the jungles, mountains or wastelands that surround it. The environment is spotted with deciduous trees with a color and texture of aged paper. To the north you can see a high, sharp mountain range. To your south you know there are miles and miles of dense vibrant jungles. To your east there are the barren highlands, colder than your landfall site, with more cliffs.
Pertinent Stuff: Dry, Warm Plateau, Pyramid in the Mountains, Natural Bay, Inland Sea
Resources: Wood, Wild Poultry
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, your crew maintains an admirable professionalism at sea. There were no discouraging words about their voyage, their destination, their fate. Neither was much said in anticipation. The ships sailed, and they did so at a steady pace. Perhaps that was enough.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the South.A long journey around the southern cape, a dense and unfathomable jungle, reveals that the mainland stretches even further south across a great bay. You and your crew decide not to cross the bay, staying safely to the coastline instead. And you are rewarded by the discovery of a great sea opening into the continent. You follow the western coast of this inlet north into a perfectly circular stone habor. Your crew stops and calls you from your cabin, as soon as you open your door you see why they disturbed you.
You were staring at a tower, taller by far than any built by the Gault or the Pyrenze or any nation you'd ever encountered. It stood miles high, miles long, cast in something like black marble and covered with the grime of a thousand years at sea. Your ships circled the tower one time, observing stone doors on three of four sides, wide enough to admit the berth of five ships sailing in line. All of these doors were closed but you determined to settle your colony close to this natural wonder so that you can embark again to discover its mysteries. You leave the perfectly circular natural gulf that houses this tower and hug the western shore as you travel north. Before long you find that you can double back into a natural gulf.
You make landfall in a thick, red forest – a deep and violent red. Crimson like honor. The scent of pine permeates the air as your men bring the necessaries ashore. As your eyes begin to adjust to the intensity of the forest you can see a creature stalking within it. You call your men to arms, the creature is huge! A marble red boar, bigger than a horse broader than three men, tusks longer than a saber, fierce and hooked. The beast was rooting through the dirt, tearing through tree roots with his tusk when one of your fool soldiers shouts at the beast. The Boar turns with a start, there is an audible squeak as his eyes land on your party, and he dashes into the woods with surprising gracefulness. He's gone from your sight in a minute, moving quicker than a man on foot could give chase.
As the night begins to over take the day, you notice a second light in the night sky. Something like a moon, but conical. It comes from the direction of that ancient tower your ships past in landing here. You wonder what purpose the tower served in its glory days. Who could have built it. And why it should emit light, all this time later. You doubt it is a lighthouse. There would be no reason to build one that tall. The light could be obscured by clouds in the wrong weather.
You have made landfall in a dense forest. The temperature is comfortably mild. You seem to be near a population of gigantic wild boars. The soil here is good but littered with roots from living trees. Farming will be complicated. Hunting and foraging however may be especially good. To your north you can see more of these red wood forests, though they seem to be younger and less robust crops of trees. To the west a single gigantic mountain stand out against the horizon, the path there remains wooded but begins to get steadily rockier and more difficult to traverse. To the south the land gets warmer . You can spot one geyser on a distant hill top. You know from your travels that the tower lies in a circular sea to the southeast.
Pertinent Stuff: Pleasantly Mild Red Forest, Proximity to Terrible Tower, Natural Bay, Inland Sea
Resources: Wood, Elephant-Boars.
Sir Andrew Gene Blackwood:
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, there is a strange mixture of anxiety and excitement in your crew as the winds bring you closer to strange lands. They knew this was a strange venture, under strange circumstances. And yet, it really did have the ring of something which may become great. If attended to correctly.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the South. A long journey around the cape reveals that the mainland stretches even further south across a great bay. On the horizon behind the landmass, a high mountain chain looms over temperate lowlands along the coast. Your ships make voyage across the bay deciding to gamble on the mineral wealth likely present on the spine of the continent. It seemed like they'd be landing right on the tailbone. As it happened you landed in a temperate grasslands outside the reaches of a mountain. It loomed in the distance to the west but your immediate environment was dominated with fields and rockery.
The grasslands immediately around you are devoid of trees instead spotted with large boulders and half buried slags of rock. There is a river of respectable size leading in a southwesterly direction from your landfall. The landscape is rocky but the soil also seems to be of hearty caliber evidenced by the deep and uniform ground cover of … Something like a berry? It grows in bunches on vines, covering the ground nearly everywhere in a sometimes two foot deep layer of vines and succulent fruit. There are flowers in the vinery as well, small and fragile, of a faded pink color. The fruit itself resembles eyes – clusters of eyes as grapes may grow – cream colored and spherical with a blue spot on one side. The thickness of this foliage will produce some complications for movement, you conclude. You suspect however that they are edible. And if that is the case you won't be short of simple rations for yourself or your herd for quite some time, encumbered though movement may be. You do admit though, it is odd to see a fruit growing so plentifully in a such a cold climate...
The place you've made landfall may make good farmland, or grazing land. It's reasonable to suspect that there is plentiful mineral wealth in the soil. You have no access to wood. You are positioned on a river. Through a telescope you can see that to the north there are thicker berry fields and fewer boulders spotting the grasslands. To the west there are more fields of nearly identical composition, though the environment seems to grow colder in that direction and you know from sea that a mountain lies to the west of your colony. To the southwest, following the river, it seems the berry fields begin to die off, the land becomes more rocky and trees can be scene growing intermittently.
Pertinent Stuff: Temperate Rocky Grassland, Encumbered by Vines, Mouth of a River, Southern Cape
Resources: Eye-Fruit. Unexplored Minerals.
Sir Malcom Hawke:
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, your crew is lively with anticipation, no anxiety is felt at all about the voyage or the destination. Everyone is eager to land and start their lives anew.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the North. You follow the coastline north past two very appealing bays, passing them on in search of a good estuary feeding a strong river. The coastline sweeps west and you follow it along jungled coast until a rift is spotted in between the endless beaches of the north coast. You follow the rift south long enough to conclude that it feeds a mighty river. And then, your ships make landfall.
You are in a dense jungle, hot and crushingly humid. Your crew begin to remove extraneous articles of clothing as they unpack the ships. All around you are trees and dense shrubbery, clutching the two banks of this new found river traveling south into the continent. On the beaches in the north, where the banks of your river curve off to meet the sea, you find curious ruined metal littering the sand. It is often forged into boxes, sometimes into amulets or little statues of people or animals. On more than one occasion your team finds plates and goblets. Ruined metal artifacts, the more your team digs the more they discover, on both shores.
You've made landfall in a flat jungle at the opening of a large river. The land may be good for growing sugar or spices but you worry about staple food supplies. Though if these countless discarded artifacts are any indication, some civilization certainly predated you on this river. It follows they had some way to feed themselves... To the east you can see the edges of the jungle, tapering off into wetlands. To the west the jungle grows higher and denser, and the land gets rockier and more mountainous. South, following the banks of the river the density of foliage stays much the same, but the temperature drops to something more livable, if still quite warm.
Pertinent Stuff : Wet Hot Jungle, Beach of Ruined Metal, Mouth of a River, North
Resources: Wood, Scrap Metal
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, your crew holds vigils weekly for their lost homeland but there is no mourning and no weeping. They come to the new continent with a severity of purpose that might befit soldiers despite their humble stations, you are really quite proud.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the North. You follow the coastline north not very far at all until you discover a natural harbor, tucked into the side of a peninsula. The shore fades with very little beach into a wetlands spotted with small lakes and little hills. Everything is a jolly shade of green and little bushes grow verdant in all directions. You conclude it will make excellent farming land, and you sail your ships toward the shore.
When you land the weather could best be called muggy. It is both warm and humid but not unbearably so in either case. A quick survey of the horizon reveals an absence of trees and a plethora of shrubbery. The ground is soft and heavy with moisture. You kick some up and are pleasantly surprised to find uniform tan dirt beneath your heal. Clay desposits. Potentially rich ones. At the very least it could be assured the deposits were near the surface, which would make them easier to mine. As you set out through the shrubbery you become aware of movement in the bramble a few yards off. You have your men hold back until someone can spot the source of the disturbance. It doesn't take long. A pack of dogs makes it's way through the bushes, they note you for a moment with friendly curiosity before continuing on their way as a pack of dogs will. How strange to stumble on something so familiar so far away from home. They were not, of course, any breed you'd seen in Gault – tall mastiffs, orange and wooley, with short scrunched faces and wide chests, tails cut short no more than an inch or so long.
You have made landfall on a warm wetland. It will be optimal farming land. There are no trees but clay deposits lie very close to the surface, a wide variety of dense green shrubbery grows around you between the various ponds and streams but it is unclear as of yet what is and isn't edible or optimal for consumption. It seems that wild dogs inhabit the area. To the northwest you can see that the vegetation grows more verdant and wildlife seems to concentrate in packs and herds. The north proper skirts the edges of that region, remaining ideal farmland. To the west lakes grow more uncommon and the terrain slowly becomes rockier. You can see something that resembles a temple or cathedral nestled into a cliff face on the very edges of your western frontier. You know from sailing that traveling south will bring you to the barren highlands.
Pertinent Stuff: Warm Wetlands, Distant Cathedral, Natural Harbor, North
Resources: Clay, Dogs
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, for your crew it is business as usual, though none could deny the muted air of excitement permeating across deck. Sailor's exchanged hushed whispers of fortune and adventure between their shifts. Everyone was very happy to be included in the expedition, and all expected to make their name in the new world.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the land is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the North. You follow the coastline north past two somewhat lack luster bays. The coastline sweeps west and you follow it along jungled coast until a rift is spotted in between the endless beaches of the north coast. You pass the rift on and are soon rewarded with a harbor fit for royalty. Or trade royalty. You sail west into the harbor as a matter of course following the coastline north. The harbor narrows slightly before opening into a roundish lake cut into by mountainous jungle peninsulas. It was perfect. Your ships sail as far west as the harbor allows and make landfall.
You are in something like a rainforest. Ancient trees grow wild between layers and layers of jungle fauna. When you look directly up it can be hard to see the sky, instead seeing only the forest canopy. This does not help to combat the heat, or the humidity, both of which are overwhelming, though your sailors labor on. The land itself is rocky and elevated, spotted with cliffs and tall sharp hills. Initial scouting shows that there are many natural caves and caverns dotting the area, numerous opening were found in the first day. None of these have been explored yet but men have reported finding jewels and crystals at the perimeter of these caves, an exciting find for any would be colonist. On a more disturbing tangent, the rumors of ruins play out to be accurate. You don't find buildings but at the openings to some of the caves and intermittently hidden in the jungle your men find life sized statues of men in ancient finery, robes mostly, carrying spears, often with elaborate braided beards. The statues themselves are of shocking sophistication, either cast from gold or plated in gold and studded with jewels.
You have landed in a wet hot jungle beneath a forest canopy. It may be an appropriate climate for growing sugar or spices but you worry about staple food supplies. Your harbor is a wonder to behold and has room for a nation's worth of ships to be conducting business. There are ancient caves and ancient jewels spotting the landscape. To the north the Jungle grows more intense and more mountainous. You think you can see a large lake or another spindly harbor laying across the horizon to the Northwest. In the west the caves grow deeper and more looming, any subterranean exploration will likely lead you that way. In the south you see the jungle thinning out and growing flatter.
Pertinent Info : Wet Hot Rainforest, Caves and Caverns, Natural Bay, North
Resources: Wood, Unexplored Jewels
Your ships voyage west to the foreign continent of Peregrin Minor. The weather is fine and the seas treat your boats fairly, your crew makes light of the long voyage with games and parties beneath deck. Spirits are high and supplies sustain the merriment. Your crew is optimistic in the extreme.
First sighting of land is a fairly regular north/south coastline, there are no natural bays and the lands is hilly and dense with sharp looking dry and bony flora. Its a barren highlands and the constant cliff faces make it hard to imagine docking. Your ships move on. They set a course to the South. A long journey around the southern cape, a dense and unfathomable jungle, reveals that the mainland stretches even further south across a great bay. You and your crew decide not to cross the bay, staying safely to the coastline instead. And you are rewarded by the discovery of a great sea opening into the continent. You follow the western coast of this inlet north into a perfectly circular stone habor. Your crew stops and calls you from your cabin, as soon as you open your door you see why they disturbed you.
You were staring at a tower, taller by far than any built by the Gault or the Pyrenze or any nation you'd ever encountered. It stood miles high, miles long, cast in something like black marble and covered with the grime of a thousand years at sea. Your ships circled the tower one time, observing stone doors on three of four sides, wide enough to admit the berth of five ships sailing in line. When you conclude that all of these doors are closed and likely to remain so, you continue north out of the circular harbor and into a vast inland sea. You consider making landfall on the western coast of this inland sea, but your benefactors sponsored you to go deep into the continent and you wish to put some space between yourself and the obviously haunted tower near the mouth of this inlet, so your ships make for the furthest most north bank, and are pleasantly surprised by what they discover.
You land in a bay formed between two peninsulas running south into the sea. As you step onto shore you quickly observe that you are in a sub-tropical rainforest. The temperature is relatively mild but a curtain of cool mist floating in the area keeps the climate brisk and damp. Bamboo shoots grow wild beside willow trees and gigantic ferns. Dew covered flowers peak through the mist. And as you explore you stumble on more than one cluster of mushrooms growing from tree stumps or in the shade of toppled trees. Before long however the notion dawns on you that there are, actually, quite a lot of toppled trees, more than nature would justify alone. It seems that one in every ten trees has been chopped down. And the lumber left unharvested, rotting away beside the stumps they were hacked from, never touched again once felled. You couldn't find a single example of a stump that had been chopped down recently, but it was still unsettling to imagine native's knocking down every tenth tree for no reason. Could there have been something wrong with those trees in specific? It left a funny taste in your mouth.
You landed in a cool flat subtropical rainforest. This would make excellent farming land except for the abundance of vegetation already occupying the area. Chances are good you will be able to forage for food. Your people will also very likely be able live here comfortably due to the moderate climate. You have immediate access to wood and unexplored vegetaion. To the far north you can see the land grows lusher and more verdant, staying relatively flat. It seems that the incidents of felled trees tappers off to the north. To your west, at the very edges of your vision, you can see a mighty river running down stream north/south.
Pertinent Stuff: Subtropical Rainforest, Prior Lumbering, Natural Bay, Inland Sea
Resources: Wood, Unexplored Vegetation
Thanks for bearing with me the last two days. Our game is now starting in earnest. Above you can find a picture of your relative location on the map, a description of how you landed there, a brief breakdown of climate and landscape, and a short list of resources. The things you may want to get off the list first by way of what to do, you'll want to establish a capital for your colony. It can be where I placed you (no one is in a bad place to found a capital), or you can wander first and attempt to find more ideal ground. After you have a place to live you may want to set about finding a stable food source, or something you can ship back to the mainland in exchange for food. The resources I list you as starting with are far from the only resources available to you on the landing sites you're at now. But you'll have to look for other resources. You may also wish to send out scouting parties to expand your understanding of the map. Any and all of these are reasonable first actions.
If you want to look for new minerals or specific things in your environment, lets go ahead and handle that on discord where it can be a little more fluid. If you'd like to respond in this thread with something a little meatier, tell what you're naming your capital, what you're naming your colony, and the sort of building projects you hope to have done in the next six months. The game is played in six month phases so, i'll be updating you on the state of your colony as soon as the correct amount of in-game time passes. If you sent out scouts feel free to tell me that here. If you're setting out to explore personally, we'll handle that in discord.
I'm not into super hard and fast rules and you don't have to worry about posting in the wrong place, I'll respond to you wherever. But as a general rule of thumb stuff that plays with the heavy mechanics of this game will go in this thread and stuff that's more roleplay-ing and character building will happen in Discord.
So, yeah, if you have questions for me (As I imagine you all will) I'll be on for a while today and then again later tonight. Looking forward to playing with all of you and thanks again for your patience.
|# ? May 31, 2017 22:25|
Hakonia smiles, today is the day. For the past week the sailors have helped them unload their yurts, horses, herds of goats, and heavy bags of pemmican and salt. There’s laughter in the air, the Sisters smile at her. They’re free of those foul boats, soon they’ll be heading inland.
Today is the day. She smiles as she looks out over the continent. Maybe the nightmares will finally stop now.
“We’re done, Miss. What’s next?”
The captain of the King’s ships breaks her daydream. He’s a quiet, observant, older man. His coat is threadbare, and he leans on an old cane. If he wasn’t so ill-mannered you could confuse him for a woman.
“Thank you for your services. That will be all.” She says.
He looks confused.
“What?” He says.
Hakonia has already walked off, towards the nearest boulder. She jumps atop it, her greatbow across her back and recurve set against her hip.
“My people!” She shouts.
The Sisters turn to face her, most are smiling.
“The King and the rest of the Gaultese have insulted us for the last time!”
The Sisters shout, Feial men keep loading the horses. The sailors look confused. She takes the “charter” from her coat, a silly thing of ink and vellum. She can’t even read it. A childish attempt at murder by a cowardly man. A Sister charges forward with a torch, just as planned. She holds it up to Hakonia, and she takes it in her hand.
“Today, for this last insult, this attempt to send us to our deaths...”
She pauses for emphasis, the crowd of Sisters roars.
She puts the torch under it, and it roars to life. For a moment, it is divine. It is the Flame. The Warmth Against The Night.
Then it’s ash. The Sisters shout and cheer, some kiss in celebration.
“WE ARE FREE! NEVER AGAIN WILL WE SERVE A KING!” She shouts.
One woman repeats it, then another, and then another. Until the whole crowd is chanting.
“NEVER AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN!”
She jumps off the rock, and walks back towards the captain and his terrified sailors. Her guards have arrows nocked and ready.
“For transporting us to what the King must have imagined would be our death, this is your reward.” She says, sweeping her arm.
A Sister leads a single, scrawny goat towards the sailors. Another has a small bag of salt.
“You are dismissed.”
He starts to speak, a Sister fires at arrow at the sailor next to him. It strikes him in the neck. His blood stains the vines.
“Leave, before we kill you all. Tell your King the Feial are free.”
With that, she walks to her own horse and mounts it. They have a continent to explore.
Actions This Turn
1. We gather these “Eye-Fruits” after discovering their stimulant properties. Many are salted for preservation, and boiling them to make a hot drink with the morning pemmican quickly becomes a regular part of life.
2. Hakonia selects a dozen tough, capable women as scouts. Four follow the coast south, four more north, and four go towards the mountains, ahead of their main force.
3. We make a careful course inland; towards the mountains. Towards what will likely be our new home.
4. We sample all new flora and fauna by feeding them to our old men first. Those that do not kill them are fed to the goats. If the goats survive, they are considered edible for women.
The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at Jun 1, 2017 around 00:07
|# ? Jun 1, 2017 00:04|
Clare rests his hand across his sword pommel, watching the giant beast of the wood retreat with a demonic alacrity through the trees and roots and hills. He knew his horses would be no match for the creature within this sanguine forest. He takes in the sight, and makes a note of their presence. However, more pressingly, the thought of this tumultuous dark tower, so majestic and close to God, had his eye twitching with anticipation- or perhaps he had simply spent too long in the cabin of the flagship. Clare figured his people were strained as he from so long at sea. They were not, after all, sailors.
His heavy boots crush shells scattered throughout the crimson pine needles of the coastal forest shoreline like bones into a pile of gore as he guides his horse back to the landing site, barking calm but direct orders at people; keeping their work safe and efficient. His head cranes with indecision as a few of his fellow paladins detach the sarcophagus of a Gaultese Patron Saint of Protection from their horses, in cart. It would certainly be prudent to perhaps put a roof above the old remains of the priest. And so their peoples' first tasks were born. They'd erect a small temple, complete with a tandem dormitory, right here for the benefit of all to bask in goodness of God and his Gifts; and rest under His Protection and watchful eye. Docks would be constructed for the ships; and massive pit traps about the outlying forest baited with vegetables near spoiling to perhaps capture one of these forest devils. Foresters would be set to task immediately to build a palisade for their coastal settlement. Hunters and foragers would be made of teams of Templars and squires, young male volunteers from his peoples' populace, to train them in the ways of the Holy Order and provide sustenance for the people of this fledgling settlement.
Clare does not force anyone to task they do not wish to partake in. This Holy Land is one of Freedom, and any of the faithful who deem course otherwise are free to do as they please; but provisions are very strictly rationed by members of the Holy Order, under a well understood penalty of branding for theft. The meager they have is not to be poorly managed until God sees them the Plenty his people deserve; though the horses are kept well.
Days in, the stream of near-magical explosions of steam pull his attention. Such a unique feature of geography was surely a sign from God, and it would be seen to. With a small contingent of men while the settlement is set to task, Clare takes a day to visit the hill southward. He returns the following day, coming back hued yellowish gold, with his trusted ally Miles now missing a leg at the knee. He carries with his band a box of golden powder, a strange new meat, and the ancient scribblings of a tombstone.
KhediveRex - Today at 1:20 AM
wtsnaename fucked around with this message at Jun 1, 2017 around 07:36
|# ? Jun 1, 2017 06:58|
Sir Andrew Gene Blackwood
It was a harrowing several months from jolly Gault toward the unknown wastes of Peregrin Minor, the good mood shared by the crew was by no means shared by their captain to be. Andrews carefully curated wine reserve, designed to last him several years of exile, had dwindled to under half it’s stock. He would be out of precious, mind numbing alcohol in just a few short months at this rate. Maybe there would be something to brew when they landed. He and Frederick had once spent a ghastly summer in some monk house in the western reaches, and the only upside was how sodding drunk they could get from the monks private breweries. Andrew even picked up a bit of knowledge about the process. But ah! Land Ho! Time to see just what sort of living hell he was going to be subject.
“My god this is droll.” Andrew complained to himself as the sailors and colonists continued to unload supplies. The cattle had been the first thing herd off and some of the more enterprising workers had rounded up a few to help with hauling. “Not even enough wood for a personal gallows.” He whispered futilely, the harsh light of sobriety teaming up with the bright sun to make him as miserable as possible. Knelling into the earth and taking a deep breath, the unsettling eyes of the native plant looked a tempting opportunity. If I’m lucky this will kill me. he thought to himself. A small handful and 5 minutes later, Andrew was consigned to his ill fortune. The… berries for lack of a better term, were at least helping slightly with his hangover, lending him slightly more attention and awareness. Absent mindedly, he continued to nibble on the “eyes” throughout the day.
As hellscapes go, it’s not too bad he’s assured by one of the captains who for the first time in months isn’t accompanied by his identical siblings. Plenty of grazing land for his cattle. Perfect for eventual farmland. Right by a river for clean water and irrigation. Not a tree for miles, but they seemed to grow in small clumps further to the southwest. Time to make the best of a bad situation.
“Alright, good men and women of Gault.” Andrew starts, “We’re either here for the pay or here because we have no choice. For many, that’s essentially the same thing. Well, we’ve got a fine start but plenty of work to do. Now my skillset is quite diverse, but I am by no means a hard worker. That’s where you all come in. Now, it’s cold which means there's a good chance it could get even colder. There’s no wood, but there’s stone so I guess that’s that settled. Now, here’s the plan…”
The plan was simple. The river would serve as the life-blood of the founding colony. Teams would go out and quickly excavate and cut out the various rocks and stones in the surrounding environment. Tough, insulating stone housing would be the way to go. The people may be living in bunk houses for a while, but that was better then freezing. The cattle would be divided into work teams to help haul stone to and fro, and a set of ox drawn river barges would be created, to haul up stone and a little lumber from further southwest. The banks of the river being relatively free from the crawling vines should provide freer movement. They would settle in the nook of the river, as it turned toward the ocean and expand the settlement westward for a time. Getting up solid homes and walls would be the priority; if the weather turns the people will be glad of it.
Between the cattle, the rations and the Blackwood Cherries (the new name for the native plant) there should be enough food to avoid full scale farming for the moment, freeing up more hands for hard labour. Though each family would be entitled to an allotment where they can spend an hour a day raising some vegetable crop for personal use.
Andrew himself, unused and willing to remain unused to hard labour, nevertheless had his own tasks. Blackwood Cherries presented a new opportunity. The stimulating effects were useful, but not compared to it’s exoticness and newness. One of his tasks would be the investigation of the plant; brewing it, roasting it, crushing it, grinding it. Anything that could be done to enhance or change it’s properties would be tried. He would even try brewing it into a wine (for commercial and personal use). The exploration of this soon to be staple crop was important, but more important was a source of funds. If Andrew could find something to advertise about it, with a bit of wheedling to Prince Frederick and the King, the royal household would be eating and drinking Blackwood Cherry based products throughout the day; it would be the central point of feasts, and the subtle ribbing that would result from lacking said Cherries would drive the nobility insane. Sycophants that they are, the nobility and the wealthiest commoners followed all the fashions of the royal family and would simply have to have their share of Peregrins bounty, letting Andrew scalp them for a tidy sum. Once people were hooked, the colony could even make a steady profit shipping the product continuously. It may seem like trivial work, but it had it’s uses.
Aside from that, Andrew would act more like overseer then labourer, lending his gifted amateur experience wherever it could be of use. For the main colony, a semester at the Rontham Road Society of Architecture would help lead the construction of squat, but hardy buildings, combining the best elements of speedy construction, efficiency of materials and hardiness of the final product.
One building would be earmarked for dairy work, churning the substantial crop of milk into long lasting butters and cheeses as rations for the journey back to Gault. Another would become a tannery; the danger of a sudden cold snap meant a supply of warm leather garments would be a necessity and the sustained butchery of the herds should provide plenty of material. Finally, although he had no formal experience in metallurgy, he did have some minor skill as a smith. (A decade ago Prince Frederick and Andrew had been staying at the Blackwood estate and the Prince made a comment about one of the blacksmiths that had made Andrew so jealous!). While it wouldn’t be the eye of an expert, Andrew had enough to skill to partially identify the most obvious mineral outcroppings. A steady supply of metal, even copper or bronze, would be of great use given the absence of wood.
Lastly, ships would head up and down the coasts over the next few days, reporting back anything of note or interest. Not every ship would go at once, since the sailors would be needed to lend a small hand.
“So. That’s that. Food and shelter being our priorities here. If you think my knowledge may be of use somewhere, don’t hesitate to ask. Otherwise, we’ll all stick to what we know. So, good people, welcome to Peregrin Minor. And welcome to the colony of New Rotham!”
- - - - -
1.Beginning construction of the starting settlement (named New Rotham) out of stone. We’ll use the various outcroppings as starting materials. We’ll focus on bunk houses and walls for now, with the hopes of building a tannery and dairy works on the outskirts if possible.
2.We’ll make a few cattle drawn river barges, that will be used to draw up stone and perhaps a little lumber from further south west. Since they will follow the river banks, there should be a little more freedom of movement for the cattle.
3.Andrew will explore the properties the Blackwood Cherries, in the hope of discovering an exportable product. Given it’s stimulating effects, figuring out how to use it most effectively should give the work teams a little bit more oomph. Personally, Andrew is also looking to restock his wine reserves.
4.When he has the chance, Andrew will explore the immediate surroundings for obvious and easy to access metals and minerals, under the cover of the various work teams who are traveling up and down. Closer to the river would be best, since then the barges could be used for hauling metal and such as well.
5.I want the ships to spend a day or two going up and down the coastline, providing a quick overview of the immediate area.
6. The cattle will be confined to the settlement side of the river for now, using the river and ocean to prevent them from wandering to far and allowing us to save manpower on sheparding them.
Blackwood Cherries can be made into wine. It seems that those picked earlier in their blooming produce a sweeter more floral wine, and those picked late in the season begin to acquire a flavor like lime when fermented. The win itself is always a white, and the affects are strange. Bubbly like wine but energetic like coffee. I good combination for trouble.
OscarDiggs fucked around with this message at Jun 1, 2017 around 17:25
|# ? Jun 1, 2017 09:25|
Calvin and his followers begin to unload their ships. Afterwards, he launches into an impromptu sermon to the crowds. "These ships, these arks, have brought us to our new home. In honor of the voyage, I name this place Ark-home," he concludes. In the thick accent of the peasants, it sounds more like "Arkham", and so the place is named on the map. Afterwards, the peasant leaders, being practical sorts, immediately begin identifying the best fields, and soon begin the arduous process of clearing the land. Brush is cleared away and stacked into crude pens for the livestock; to keep the wild dogs away. Crude tents are pitched for now, working the fields takes precedence over anything more complicated.
Once the fields are cleared enough to plow, the farmers assemble as Calvin brings out the golden sickle of Carcossa. An ancient artifact of the faith, it was used for the most important sacrifices. It was said that once, a king was once sacrificed with its blade, although in the old days before the unification of Gault every valley and shire had its own king. Asking for the blessing of Azathoth in their new home is surely a worthy task for the blade. An old boar, father to many of the pigherd, is hoisted up on a trestle. Calvin calls upon Azathoth to drink of the boar's lifeblood, and in turn, give of his blood to the crops. A quick slice across the struggling boar's neck and thick blood begins to flow into the hungry earth. Then the ploughshares are brought out and hitched to the few mangy horses, and the planting can begin. There is much work to be done, and little time for anything else. Even Calvin takes his turns at the plow. The fields are planted with barley and wheat, while many of the peasants plant small gardens with onions and squash, melons and cabbage.
Finally, after about a month or two of hard labor, the fields are cleared and sown, the livestock pens are mostly fortified against the predations of the wild dogs, and finally there is time for something other than hard labor from sunrise to sunset. While most of the peasants begin looking to build more solid houses out of sod and stone, there is time for a few enterprising peasants to start trying to tame the wild dogs. The nearby lakes have fish enough to catch, and so with bribes of food and shelter, perhaps a few can be lured into service as guard-dogs. Meanwhile, Calvin turned his attention to the west. That... structure was certainly imposing, if it was so visible at a distance. With a pack full of supplies, and a half-dozen followers, Calvin set off to investigate it. While two of the men brought muskets, hoping for some new game to liven up their diet, the rest simply carried the short, heavy walking-stick favored by Gaultish peasants. Back in Gault, many a brigand, press-gang, snake-oil salesman, tax collector, or other unwelcome guest had learned to fear the club-men.
1. Clearing, planting fields is very hard work, everyone will be focused on that for the first few months.
2. Religious ritual to bless the new land. Our settlement is named Arkham.
3. A few peasants will try and tame the wild dogs.
4. Calvin and a few more goons will investigate the strange structure to the west.
5. All hands on deck for the harvest.
|# ? Jun 1, 2017 19:25|
Mortimer Charleton Snodgrass
From the Log of the Meredith Snodgrass, flagship posted:
Month 3, Day 4. The lookout on the Enterprise spotted a gull today. Still no sign of land as yet, but it cannot be far off now. The timing is merciful—sailing almost three months with no landmarks at all is enough to drive men mad.
As the hull of the longboat scraped into the sand, Mortimer Snodgrass was the first up, hauling himself over the side, well-worn boots sinking into the damp beach. He looked around the bay, calling to mind the reports he had read from the Gryphon’s log, describing the bay they had pulled into to repitch the ship.
Certainly they had not landed here, he decided. Not only were the trees here not remotely like they had described, but they would have certainly mentioned the excellence of the bay. Carved by some great geology he could not discern offhand, it reached in from the coast through a narrowed and highly defensible neck, before broadening into a deep harbor with three small inlets, like a cloverleaf. He had looked over the side on the way to the beach; though the water was clear, he couldn’t see the bay’s bottom. Any ship in the world could anchor here.
They might not enjoy it. Even next to the water it was damnably hot, and the air was thick with moisture. The beach was fine but thin, with the strange jungle running to within a few yards of the coast—it would take some serious elbow grease to clear land for settlement, and farming for sustenance would be an effort. Cash crops, however… He rubbed his chin, nodded once, and then turned to the rest of the landing party, which was looking at him eagerly. “It is excellent! We shall build it here.”
The landing party broke out into brief, if intense, jubilation, before springing into activity. The sailors leapt in the longboat, hauling down into the water again with gusto. The surveyor and his assistants immediately began to crack into their gear. The quartermaster turned back towards the ships, unfurling the green flag he’d brought with him and waving it several times. As cheers began to echo across the water, Snodgrass turned to his scribe. “Be it recorded that on this day, the fifteenth of May, by right of the Pitchford Colonial Company, I, Mortimer Snodgrass, have founded in the name of our glorious King Matthew..."
…Fairport. A bit simple, but anything stronger would have been ostentatious, and I can imagine us finding no fairer port. We’ve named the harbor Clover Bay--I will finish filling out the names on the maps once initial surveys are complete. I’ve ordered immediate construction of a perimeter stockade and warehouses for our supplies and goods. Housing will come next, then the docks and facilities, then I suppose a church--the men will want it and it would not do to make the Church impatient.
The scout pushed aside a massive frond, half-started, and then turned to look back behind him. “Here it is, sir.” He stepped aside, making way for two soldiers, the Church Priest, the scribe, and at the front of them all, Mortimer Snodgrass, his face rapt with curiosity.
In front of them lay a cave, half-buried by the mountainous foliage, Glinting in the rock around it, winks of light suggested vast wealth, tantalizingly close. But that was not what drew the eye, merely distracted it. Standing next to the cave like a sentinel was a statue of a man, near life-sized, wearing an ornate robe and a thick, braided beard. He brandished a spear as he gazed, stern and calm, into the jungle that had closed to within feet of his face.
All of which would be fascinating enough, except that the statue appeared to be made entirely of gold.
The soldiers boggled at the sight, while the priest made signs of obeisance and Mortimer led his scout up to the statue, inspecting it with a keen eye. “Hm.” He tapped the golden man on the shoulder, and was rewarded with a disappointing sound. “Hah, I suspected as much. It’s not all gold, just plate.” He looked back, grinning. “So it’s only worth a whole MONTH’S trade value, not a damned year. And you say there’s more of these around?”
“All over, sir.” The scout waved his hand. “We’re not trippin’ over the bloody things, but we’ve found them in every direction, usually by the caves. Some of ‘em are riddled with jewels, and I think one of the smaller ones was solid. Cap’n seemed to think so.”
“Did he.” Mortimer looked back at the statue, then stood up. “I want this to be made very clear--these statues are NOT to be moved unless I say so. What we’ve stumbled on here could make up for the cost of the expedition all on its own, but if we just tear it all down right off we might well miss something even bigger.”
The thought of a prize bigger than this definitely stuck in the mind of the scout, and he nodded before running off, to convey the message. Mortimer sighed, then turned to one of the soldiers. “Inform Commander Griswold that anyone attempting to smuggle these things out of the port is to be arrested immediately and thrown in the stocks. I’ve no doubt someone’s going to try. This wealth belongs to the colony and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to steal it.”
The soldier blinked, then saluted. “S-sir.”
He took off, as well, and Mortimer turned back to the statue, which was now being much more closely inspected by the rest of the group. “What can you tell me?”
“Not much.” The scribe gestured to the detailing on the robe. “It’s old. Why use gold in such an ostentatious manner out in the jungle? Beyond me. Whoever they’re depicting was clearly some kind of nobility--ignoring the fact that he’s been gold-plated, the elaborate finery isn’t the sort of thing your average peasant or merchant wears.”
“...’e’s Pyrentine, i’nt he?”
Mortimer hesitated, then turned around, noticing the other soldier as if for the first time. “What did you say?”
“The, uh.” Clearly flustered at being put on the spot, the man gestured at the statue’s beard. “The braids, ser. Only Pyrentines braid their beards like tha’.”
“They do indeed,” the scribe concurred. “But we know Pyrenze has never been this far south. They had no idea Peregrin Minor even existed until the Gryphon was blown off course down here.”
“Hrmph.” Mortimer turned back to the statue, running a hand along the braids in the beard, a perplexed frown on his face. “What do you think, Father?”
“Well, I don’t like them, but you knew that.” The priest half-smirked, before turning serious again. “They don’t strike me as a good sign. This was clearly a valued place, maybe sacred. There is, of course, only one God, but not everyone knows that yet. Whoever erected all of these was willing to invest much in marking it, and…” he gestured around the jungle. “See what it got them. I would remove them, had I the say.”
“But if they come back, they then would not appreciate us removing them, either,” the scribe offered.
“And we are hoping to find trade in this new world,” Mortimer concurred, straightening back up. “My verdict is unchanged, then. The statues are not to be disturbed, until such points as they interfere with expanding the colony. We’ll keep any we remove in the trade goods house with the other valuables.” He paused, then raised one finger. “Find one that has already been disturbed and set it aside. We’ll send it back to the King, with our regards.”
The priest and the scribe both nodded, and the party gathered back up, following its tracks through the jungle to the noise and clamor at the shore. Behind them, the statue watched them go with carven eyes, until the jungle closed in and it resumed its green vigil.
So I find it fitting to end this sea-log, for the sea journey has ended. Now we must begin the new practice of building a city--maybe one day, a country, if I dare to dream.
= = =
LOG OF THE ACTIONS OF FAIRPORT COLONY, MONTH 0-6
- Establishment of basic town center. Palisade, stockade, warehouses, housing, church, town hall/guard command post. Land allotted for market/square.
- Have land cleared for farming, potential planting of sugar and spices. Secure nearby source/s of freshwater.
- Order immediate location of good fishing grounds (Captain Jonas, Seagull) and begin fishing operations. Distance be damned, we are not going to be able to feed five hundred off this land alone within six months.
- Basic port to be built. Docks, some housing. Plans laid for drydocks, cranes, wharf, wharfside warehouses. Scrawled in the margins: If John Cooper doesn’t get a permit for that damned dockside tavern order him thrown in the stocks, it’s been three months
- Once the port is relatively operational, overhaul the ships. They need it badly. Start with the ones marked for continued exploration.
- Have Commander Griswold plot defenses for Clover Bay. Will need Royal permission to build an actual fort, probably. Might be within purview of Royal Naval Station. Certainly not doing that inside six months. Can chart good locations anyway.
- Scout coasts of Clover Bay, lands immediately next to coast, coasts + lands north and south of bay mouth to a distance of ten miles. Once that’s done, see if there is actually another bay northwest of here. If not, might be a lake. Captain Albright and Freedom to be devoted to this.
-- A loose leaf is clamped in the book at this point. I know there are a half-dozen other colonial projects loosed on P. Minor right now. Once we have learned of our own surroundings we need to learn where our neighbors are. Just in case. Put Captain Marcion’s Temerity on this. Marcion is the most trustworthy.
Redeye Flight fucked around with this message at Jun 2, 2017 around 04:50
|# ? Jun 1, 2017 19:55|
The two day journey back from the cave brought the perilously close to starvation but they managed to make the rations stretch. The sight the other colonists were celebrated with ragged cheering and growling stomachs. Already there is a hustle and bustle at the landing spot of industry, with buildings starting to go up all according to plan
For John had little to do on the long sea voyage besides think and plot. What shape shall this new outpost take, to better science and mankind? He remembered the dirty and cramped conditions of the large cities he had been to, lived in, worked in, the squalor and dirt and suffering. Any new expansion done with little planning and crammed into any spot they could squeeze it into. No, that would happen here. Wide spaces between buildings lay vacant, ready to become avenues of travel in the future. A large two story building goes up in a otherwise empty square, to be home of future expansion. If this place is to be his legacy, John vows, then it will be one for the ages. Planned for decades of growth, not short term budget cuts and savings.
- - - - - -
"Pity we couldn't make it the cave", says Dr. Anders. The older man's belt may of tightened with the rest of the exploratory crew but he's still spry as ever. Indeed hes one of the first ones off the ship to stretch his land legs. He takes in the view, looking over the busy colonists before turning back to John. "It'll have to wait for another day. But once we get settled in, mark my words, I'll be back there. Who knows what we'll find?"
The thought the cave, and the forbidding darkness within interrupts John's envisioning of the future. He suppresses a shudder and says, "Maybe, but for now here we are. I expect big things to happen when we're finished. A modern city, for a modern time and free of restriction."
"Decided on a name yet, eh John?"
- - - - -
There's a busy planning meeting between John and the rest of the academia who accompanied him. The future of the colony, of Arcadia is being hashed out. Details are hammered out through debate and rational recourse. There is some tweaking of the zoning and planing of the city but for the most part John's vision of it stays true. He had forgotten some of the sanitation aspects, which committee was quick to point out. The botanists lay out the need for crops that can survive and thrive in this environment and gain approval for their cultivation program without any argument. The geologists planned great expedition gets toned down, mostly due to labor shortages and settle for a general survey of the area. They didn't budge on the mountain trip though. The sailors had sent the lead captain, Captain Jack, to the meeting as well.
"Now I know we can't get the supplies together yet to send us back to Gault with word of the colonies success and bring back more people and supplies, but my people are wasted on the ground. This inland sea here is who knows how big. Give us supplies when able and we'll explore and graph the surrounding water. If the tiny outlet we came in through is the only way in, then we'll want to secure it as well in the future."
Much murmuring and debate follows, mostly arguments about food supplies and "wasted labor" but eventually after John speaks the committee is convinced. Captain Jack will have his expedition.
1. The building/planning of the city. Wide avenues, space for future expansion and sanitation. What we can't build today, we'll build tomorrow. This might leave odd spacing for now but will pay off in the future and turn Arcadia into a jewel of the new world. Roads are left as open spaces, farming ground laid out and plotted. Piers for the ships set up in the natural bay, along with fishing locations and a future drydock set with foundations.
2. Domestication and breeding of ostriches. These large feathered birds will provide an ample food source, both meat and egg, for the fledgling colony. A breeding program will help isolate and then expand useful traits, i.e. tameness, egg laying speed, size. Perhaps they could be turned into mounts? Certainly they have a great deal of stamina.
3. Crops will grow here sure, but how do we make them thrive here? Setting up special farms along the normal will let the botanists monitor and cultivate new strands of crops to increase the harvest yield. Local flora will be sampled as well in search of plants that can be eaten, used for medicinal purposes, etc. Smelting silicone from the beach sand allows for a couple greenhouses to go to continue this cultivation program despite any weather or changing conditions.
4. A general survey of the surrounding area and its resources. A team of geologists and escort can head to the mountains to prospect for minerals such as iron. Another in search of ground springs/aquifers or rivers to help supply the growing city with water. Surveying and mapping of the geography as well. Part of this includes setting up a couple of spots to record weather conditions such as temperature, humidity, atmospheric pressure, wind speed and direction.
5. This inland ocean holds great promise. Send the two teams of two ships out to explore and chart this ocean. Record its currents, its depths, find what lays on the other side. See if the close section we came in through, when we first thought we were just entering a bay, is the only way in or if there is another exit. If it is the only way in, with such a narrow exit, then its consolidation will soon become paramount to control this inland sea.
6. This is not a general colony effort but solely a collaboration between John and Dr. Casaway. While the rest of the colony grows and follows the plan, they are experimenting and searching for new means of power. Having worked in the piss pot industrial facilities of Gault, John hates the dirt and grime they put out with the massive coal burning for furnaces. Free of the churches restriction, he hopes to explore new avenues and find a better way.
Quornes fucked around with this message at Jun 3, 2017 around 07:37
|# ? Jun 1, 2017 21:43|
Sir Malcolm Hawke
Land! Oh, to think- to think- at last- at last- land!
Colonist and sailor alike crowded the deck, staring and shouting out at the sight of the New World. The excitement aboard the ship was palpable. Hawke moved through the people like he was an old friend to each and everyone one of them. He called them by name, shook their hand, laughed. He embraced them.
He'd always made a point to know his soldiers. He'd always led from the front. These people might not be soldiers but they were his all the same. His charge. His responsibility.
Despite his age, Hawke still presented a powerful figure. Broad of chest. Thick neck. Arms like tree trunks. His face was battle scarred-- an eyepatch covered one wound and across his scalp was the tell-tale kiss of a glancing bullet: a thin white line where hair no longer grew-- and when solemn had the dignified, serious air of a career military leader. But his smile was wide and eager and infectious. He wore the smile now.
Hawke lifted an excited child up onto his shoulders. "Breathe it in, lad! Breath deep," he said. "That's the air of the future." He extended a hand out to the shoreline. "Remember this moment, my lad. Remember what you see here today. Remember these trees. Remember this wildness. This wilderness. For on this shore we, you and I and everyone here, together shall change the world."
He wrapped his free arm around a nearby man's shoulders. That man did the same with a neighbor. And soon everyone was linked. A voice in the back began singing "God Save the King" but only got three words in before the song was picked up by the entire ship. Hawke roared along with the loudest of them.
The ship embarked with efficiency. Not military efficiency. But they did well for themselves. Especially given their lack of any practical experience. Hawke was proud.
It didn't take long before he stripped down to his waist. An action that was readily and eagerly replicated. Some officers might have dictated decorum above all but... this humidity. The humidity was oppressive. And it only exacerbated the toils of manual labor. But spirits were high. They had arrived. They were home.
Oh, what a home! Was there ever such a massive river in all the rest of the world? It put the famous Gaultian waterways to shame. Fresh, drinkable water. Plus an easy method of transporting goods and people along the colony. The best method. At least, initially. At least, until Hawke's grand designs could come into play.
They were not the first to realize that viability of a settlement here. That much was exceedingly clear. You couldn't hardly stick your foot in the sand without hitting a strange piece of metal or a plate or a cup or some other sign of previous habitation. Some were intricately designed though. Human figurines. Animals. Hawke whistled and motioned for a young man to join.
He'd seen Archibald's drawings on the ship. The man was what the Church had labeled a "compulsive degenerate." Not only was he was left-handed-- the horror-- he was also capable of producing incredibly realistic artistic renderings. Truly lifelike drawings. He'd done a bang-up job of Hawke himself on the hull with a bit of charcoal. Hawke clasped the man by the shoulder.
"Archie, my lad, I have a job of the utmost importance for you."
The young man straightened up immediately.
"Do you still have a handful of your supplies?" Hawke continued. "Your pencils and such?"
"Uh... yes, sir."
"Good man." He bent down and picked up a small carving of a strange beast. He placed it in Archie's hand. "I need records of everything we find here on this beach. We do not know what is in those jungles. But the people that were here before did. If they made a replica of it, they probably had a good reason. Treat everything as fact. As wildlife to be discovered. No doubt, a great deal will be primitive mythological nonsense but we will wait on that judgment until proven otherwise." He winked. "Understood?"
Hawke nodded. "Good man. You're in charge here. I know you won't disappoint me."
Archie saluted and darted off. Hawke peered out into the jungle. There was more to this new home than he had even hoped. Metal!
An expedition was in order.
edit: Expedition complete
The wildlife seemed exceedingly aggressive. There were large, toothy beasts in the river. There were giant birds that stalked that land on two legs. And strangest of all: the tentacled beast. The flitting shadow with the singular eye that launched itself amongst the branches and even dared to attack the boat. But the jungle seemed to be equally hospitable as it was hostile.
KhediveRex and AnonymousIdiot posted:
You stand between the shore and a very unnatural high stone curtain, It seems to be one rock, like a cliffside, but with ornate dwellings and town centers carved into the face of the cliff and around the rocky perimeter at the bottom. Four giagntic stone doors dominate the scenery of carved rock, well spaced doors, large enough for eight men to cross shoulder to shoulder. The doors are closed but crags in the stone, places where the granite has crumbled, allow your scouts to enter past this natural gate. In a single file. They report that the steam seems to be coming from crags in the ground on the other side of the gate, in great density. They aren't lakes or geysers, merely holes emitting thick steam. The other side of the gate has similar stone homes and abandoned rooms.
Hawke returned with news of a city. A capital they wouldn't need to build. Only repair. A mighty walled fortress with land for tilling and fresh water a plenty. The time they'll save in construction alone... This is surely a gift from the Divine.
NEW GOAL: Move to the ruined city and begin repairs for proper, civilized habitation.
NEW GOAL: Unload the foundry from the ships and build it.
NEW GOAL: We don't have to build an entire site now. But we can build a fantastic dock at the initial settlement site.
1) Collection and cataloging of artifacts
3) Construction of first township via the Hawke Plan
4) Establishment of initial farmland.
5) Construction of fishing fleet. With luck, between the river and the sea we will be able to feed ourselves via fishing until successful farming practices can be established
6) Expedition: Jungle-- what's in there? We are looking for nearby natural resources
7) Expedition: River-- what's down there? Will this initial settlement become the capital? There might be better place with better resources down river. Plus, those artifacts came from somwhere. Let's find out where. Completed by Sir Malcom Hawke
8) Expedition: Coast-- who's around us? Where are the other colonies in relation to us? Completed by Captain James March
Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at Jun 3, 2017 around 15:05
|# ? Jun 2, 2017 19:05|
Devotee Beatryx Mayble
The first night of landfall was beautiful and hectic. I joined the other members of my inner council outside the ships and, guided by lanternlight, we took our first steps on a shore that was not our home, but invited us as though it were. I take a grinning pride about my earlier insistence of leaving that terrible tower off in the distance. We can now see that there is as much beauty here as was ever seen in the gardens of the Convent. I extend a gloved hand into the soil and pick up a yellow-spotted, red mushroom. The first fruit of our journey.
Sister Margery raises her lantern and leans in to see it in my hand. Her open-mouth smile is bathed in an orange glow under her hooded cowl, and I find my eyes start to examine the freckles surrounding it.
The moment is interrupted by eager shouts and exaltations of God from the decks - the brothers and sisters are watching our early expedition cast a light on each new and colorful feature of the land. They will be allowed to begin setting up camp tomorrow, but tonight they share in our blessedness.
Now satisfied with the first sight of gifts that await us in this land, I retire to my cabin. There is much to do tomorrow - the contents of my locked coffer have to be taken out and set in place to begin experimentation immediately. Alembic and aludel, mortar and pestle, crucible and retort.
Everything leaves this box, except for one item. The Reverend Mother had special instructions - it was to be hung during the commencement of a great hall, and stay there.
I take it in my hands, and read the words on the golden plaque:
"Convent of Saint Porphyrios, Peregrine Chapter"
I knew what it was before we left, and it felt a quaint thing to do at the time - the Convent had provided me with so much, and I was honored to be allowed to lead in its first expansion.
But a feeling of some error or apprehension sets on me. So far now from Gault and the Convent, will we be able to continue the visions of either? There were eyes that followed us. Eyes that followed... me. I felt sometimes that they knew, and they would find ways to never allow me to be alone.
This must be the reason for the Reverend Mother's request. She knew we will be tested. We have to remember our home.
I don't want to look at that plaque again for a while, and it goes back in the coffer.
I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring. But I know that tonight, I will dream of what that red mushroom must taste like.
1. Harvest vegetation to make arable land. Convent botanists will categorize vegetation according to suspected uses. Volunteer taste-testers are given double wine rations as incentive, and hopefully to dull any negative effects.
2. Mayble will personally inspect each species and keep stores of ground powders, extracted juices, roots and seeds for study.
3. Send one scouting party to the northern flatlands, and another west to the river, turning south.
4. Use the un-cut trees as lumber to build a gathering hall and barracks. The fallen trees lay where they are.
|# ? Jun 3, 2017 02:23|
Founder: Beatryx Mayble
Hunger: No Hunger
Diet: A luscious assortment of mushrooms and nuts which grow wild and bountiful through your territory. The woods afford a number of curious leaf vegetables - endive, chive, kale, parsley. Your farms grow healthy stock of beans, tomatoes, spinach, eggplant and artichoke, among other things. No large game animals have been found in your territory yet, and small game is exceedingly rare, so your people have adopted a primarily vegan diet and lifestyle. Your people do not seem unhealthy.
Safety: Very Safe. No wildlife makes for no predators. There are a disturbing amount of bugs, some of intimidating size. But they are docile when interacted with.
Wealth: Low Wealth. Your colony has stock-piled botanical supplies, test-herbs, compounds. All of that is very useful, but in its raw state it doesn't sell for much. A product will need to be made from these things before a market can develop.
Plot: Your scouts have identified something that looks much like a castle. It is to your east, tucked between the shore and the mountains. Scouts report vegetation growing through the ruins, and a roofed harbor with an entrance four ships wide. They could not look into the harbor or into the castle proper in the course of their routine expedition.
You have identified the one in ten trees cut down in your territory as of a species that grows more plentifully to your west. Their porous bark plays as a symbiotic host to swarms of biting gnats, small but fearsomely toothed. These swarms are not lethal, but it isn't recommended to stay in the vicinity of these trees any extended period of time. The gnats seem attracted to the trees, they will stay with the lumber months after the wood has been chopped, only departing as the trunk begins to grow decrepit.
You have discovered a kind of centipede living semi plentifully around your settlement. It is as thick as a muscular arm and can be longer than a human. Some of your colonists have proposed ... Eating them? Its a very tame creature, and it would contain a lot of meat. They seem to eat decaying wood so, you could cultivate this animal as livestock with little expense.
You have discovered silk bugs in your forest. It will take some time to produce silk from them but that may grow into a very marketable commodity with the appropriate guidance.
Founder: Malcom Hawke
Hunger: Low Hunger
Diet: Your colony sustains itself mostly on the pre-existing farms abandoned by whomever carved this wall. They are fertile. You keep good stock of vegetables, supplemented by moderate fishing wealth found at the mouth of your river. Big game is rare, but crocodiles are infrequently on the menu when they get over-bold and bother the camp.
Safety: Unsafe. You have settled along the banks of a river commonly full of crocodiles. It is highly elevated and covered in steam. More than that sometimes, in the early evening, you can see black shadows darting between the trees outside of your new home, single large luminous eyes turned inward, stalking your colonists. The shadows haven't done anything yet, but accidents and gators have earned your settlement a reputation as a "Rough and tumble", "Man's man", "Dog eat dog" "Salt of the earth," sort of settlement.
Wealth: Moderate. Mostly stemming from a surplus of metal.
Plot: Your settlement successfully construct a full scale foundry on the ruins of the smithy your team discovered on the inside of the wall. The foundry is in good condition and conveniently near your steam vents. Now that they are in order, what will be their first full scale project?
Attempts to hunt the black, huge-eye squids have been unsuccessful. You have only learned so far that wild hawks seem to be a natural predator of the squids, as on more than one occasion you have watched the birds chase malevolent squids away. You also noticed that, when they flee, it is always in the same direction, east, skirting the northern borders of the wall. Is it possible they ... Live somewhere in there?
Across the river on the outskirts of a substantial lake, you have discovered a biome full of flowers and colorful vinery. You have discovered poppy growing on these shores.
You have discovered a very rich deposit of coal hanging off the side of a mountain face to your south. This will be an important resource for your continued productivity.
Founder: John Smith
Hunger: No Hunger
Diet: Your ostrich farms are a wild success and ostrich steak is a staple part of every Arcadian's diet. Ostrich egg is commonly consumed at breakfast. Your farms are successful but not bountiful, very specific crops will grow in your biome. Potatoes, radishes, turnips and beets are staple fare. Moderate fishing wealth is found in your bay.
Safety: Safe. Arcadians don't complain of danger in their day to day lives, but expeditions into the jungle involve a degree of acceptable risk. While uncommon, predator birds have been known to go at people when their territory or nests are disturbed. But in general, your colony lives with very minimal danger.
Wealth: Low Wealth. You have not yet found a resource that would be of high demand back in Gault.
Plot: Expeditions into the cave north of your colony have revealed that they descend quite far underground. It is not appropriate conditions to bring a ship, but there is a reasonable harbor in the cave and river which can be followed deeper into the earth.
Your attempts to breed a superior ostrich have had rather the opposite affect. Your scientist have not been able to make larger more powerful ostriches, however they have found through selective breeding that they can make pygmy ostriches with relative ease. The creatures are near to three foot on average, fluffier and more loyal. They behave like aloof dogs, many in your colony have started taking them on as pets.
Rumors circulate of a mammoth and vicious ostrich seen stalking the wastelands east of your colony. It has a reddish hue and stand taller and stronger than the ostriches in your farm. It avoids civilization though. If you wish to investigate these rumors, or capture the beast, you'll have to go out on a hunt.
You have successfully built greenhouses. What sort of vegetation will you seek to grow in them?
Founder: Mortimer Snodgrass
Hunger: Well Fed
Diet: Your people eat a veritable wealth of fish, chipper bright ones from your harbor and huge ocean-dwelling monsters alike. Your farms are successful but not bountiful, hot peppers and rice grow in relative surplus. Spice and sugarcane crops are healthy. Citrus fruits grow in and around your bay, it is common to see your citizens squishing the fruits into juice cocktails on hot days working under the sun.
Safety: Safe. The only natural predator you've come near of has been mountain lions further west around some of the caves. You do however live in a very hot mountainous jungle and accidents do happen. But your people are content and complain of no common dangers.
Wealth: Very Wealthy. Owing to gold cast and jeweled relics and statues with considerable appeal back in Gault and high conventional material worth. Also in part to sparse jewel deposits found in some caves.
Plot: You have sent men to investigate the caves in your immediate area. The caves that are guarded by statues almost always lead to burial chambers. There are ornate carvings on the walls mostly of servants and astronomical phenomena. Disturbingly, the sarcophagi found in these chambers are uniformly without heads. They are built to perfectly fit the proportions of a human, from the shoulders down. You haven't opened one of these sarcophagi yet, but you expect to find headless skeletons inside.
Surveyors have examined your settlement and concluded that there is a vast underground chamber connected to the tombs on the surface. It seems however that this underground chamber has become flooded and will be very difficult to excavate or explore in it's current condition.
Your port authority is running quite smoothly, and while you're confident that none of those statues have made it off dock, I also seems that there are less of them. And you hear the sailors whisper sometime between drinks at the shiny new tavern that treasures are being saved up "in the north", "for a rainy day"
Sailors just outside the bay say they see gigantic forms jump out of the water some nights further to sea. Black and gnarled, one large horn, many think they're spectral. You have the good sense to know that there must be a whale population in nearby seas. Some kind of ... odd, horned whale.
Founder: Calvin Montressor
Hunger: No Hunger
Diet: Your farms are enviably fertile. You grow an abundance of hearty, wholesome food. Pumpkin, watermelon, cabbage, carrot, corn, soybean, cauliflower, lentils, peas and squash are a short list of the vegetables quickly and readily available to your colonists. You have discovered no large animals suitable for livestock, but game is plentiful and the dogs you have begun to domesticate help you sniff them out and run them down. Meals in Arkham often consist of rabbit, pheasant or beaver, stewed or roasted and served on a bed or hearty vegetables. Your people are quite contented.
Safety: Very safe. Your lands have so far presented nothing fearful. It is an idyllic, pastoral wonderland.
Wealth: Moderate. Your clay deposits will hold some value to other colonists, in all likelihood, and the discovery of coal in the mountains on your western boundary assure that you will be able to carve out a comfortable living in the new world.
Plot: You have discovered an observatory to your far west. It is ancient, but there are massive lenses installed into the roof of the structure still magnifying stars and constellations. There is a staircase in the center of the facility heading down into poorly lit chambers. Your scouting team did not go further.
You have domesticated a species of dogs native to Peregrin Minor. They live in your colonists homes and serve their human masters dutifully. How will you breed them? What traits will you seek to emphasis?
In the far west, to the north of the observatory, you find coal deposits sitting against the face of a mountain range. They are quite plentiful.
To your north you discover a series of carved stoned walls of megalithic heights. It is hard to say for what purpose they were contructed, but they appear to circle a portion of land that is cut asunder with many huge lakes. In the north of this reason you can also see a tremendous amount of steaming billowing up and over the horizon.
Colony: New Rotham
Founder: Sir Andrew Blackwood
Hunger: Well Fed.
Diet: Your people are the only ones on the continent who enjoy honest to goodness steak. Beef steak. From cows. in addition to this your farms are quite successful, producing such crops as potatoes, yams, asparagus, broccoli, onions, garlic and brussel sprouts
- all of which are commonly severed with cheese, another rare privilege on this new continent. Blackberries and raspberries grow in your farms, but not bountifully.
Safety: Safe. Your settlement is well embanked on the southern shore of the river you made dock at. Your settlement is also made from stone giving it good fortifications. However, the southern bank of this river appears to be home to ... something like a rabbit? But the size of a fox, sporting impressive front claws and traveling in packs. Your citizens have taken to calling them jackal-rabbits. They're bold and menacing but so far have not tried their luck against any of your colonists. They prefer to hunt your cattle, irregularly bringing down a steer or two.
Wealth: Wealthy. You have pioneered the invention of a wine which is projected to be a huge hit with the Gaultese nobility and peasantry alike. In addition to this your metal deposits are highly exportable and the stockpile of jade crabs you've discovered in a mess on your southern boundary is certain to be worth quite a bit once parsed out.
Plot: A species of Jackal-Rabbits has been discovered occupying the south bank of the river. The same bank of the river that new Rotham occupies. Their populations grow thicker further south of your settlement but, introduction of cattle to the continent appears to have peaked their curiosity and begins to bring them further north.
You have discovered a storehouse of jade crabs along the river to your south. The crabs are intricately carved, some much bigger than a man, some only the size of a palm. They are heaped onto each other with little organization, it is obviously not a ceremonial site. It seems that someone deposited these crabs here with the intention of conserving as much space as possible. They are shuffled on top of each other as storage crates might be. It's concerning. But also difficult to get around. And it forms something of a natural barrio to getting further south by land.
You have discovered a warm, wooded inlet in the mountains to your west. It is small, only about the size of a large city, bordered on two sides by mountains and on one side by the western ocean. Temperatures here are blessedly warm compared to the rest of the territories that you have explored, and trees grow in relative abundance within this grove.
You have adopted Admiral Odde, his regiment of fifty sailors and the five boats under his command. He is a decent houseguest but particular on many points. He can be demanding, both on your independent sovereignty and on your resources.
Founder: Clare Wraight
Hunger: Well Fed.
Diet: Your people eat boar meat on a nightly basis. Little more than two or three boars have to be taken down weekly to supply your population with plentiful fresh meat. In addition to this you have discovered fruit trees in your forest - bearing peaches, plums, apples, pomegranates and oranges. You have discovered olive trees as well. Your farms are successful but not bountiful, your people make the best of okra and parsnip, chickpeas, cabbage and oatmeal which grows admirably in your climate.
Safety: Unsafe. There are relatively active komodo dragon populations operating in the south and, further west into the mountains, your colonists can find quite a variety of snakes. The ground to the south also appears to be sulphur laden with irregular phosphorous deposits, its an unusual chemical mess and some of your colonists worry.
Wealth: Moderate. Your unstable chemicals can be exported for agreeable compensation. You won't make a fortune on sulphur and phosphorous alone, but you wont be hungry either.
Plot: You have captured a handful of elephant boar, only to discover that they are comically timid and fearful. They will not serve as good livestock or good mounts at the moment, but you have some in captivity and could attempt to isolate more desirable traits.
Your initial research into the yellow powder reveals that it is non-combustible, insoluble in water, it produces no fumes and it is made primarily from organic material instead of from mineral material.
You have discovered latent phosphorus deposits in the soil around your new home.
A lake has been charted to your southwest. It is an odd lake because the north half appears to be fed by an underground heated spring and the south half is fed by mountain snow-melt. The result is that, the north end of the lake is practical bubbling with heat, and the south is quite frigid. There are a number of stone pedestals marking the boundaries of the lake, carved with a language you are unfamiliar with.
Colony: The Feial
Founder: Hakonia Alkasaki
Hunger: Low Hunger.
Diet: Pemmican and Eye-fruit tea sustain your population. Goats are butchered and roasted on special days according to old traditions. Your people have a simple diet, but they sustain. Big horn sheep have been taken down by skilled hunters, as have large bears. But none of these are a stable food source. Some argue for following the migration pattern of the big horn sheep, some argue for patience as the new land divulges it's secrets.
Safety: Unsafe. Your people are well trained for the wilderness and you sustain no injuries from predatory animals or difficult terrain, however your new homeland is objectively unsafe. Both in the sense that it would serve as a natural geographic boundary to most other people's and that these mountains are vaster, higher and more lively than the Shalkik. If admittedly not as cold.
Wealth: Low Wealth. The Feial neither mine nor harvest, they live by goat and salt. This leaves you little to trade with. On the subject of personal economics, your goat populations are blooming but you have not discovered salt deposits and are beginning to get to concerning level.
Plot: You have discovered big horn sheep packs and studied their migration pattern. They provide more meat than goats and are readily available in this mountain range. Some propose establishing migration patterns around their movement.
You have discovered a vast desert on the western side of the continent, past the mountain range. Waterbuffalo and disturbing lizards make their home their. You have a suspicion from your time in the wild that you would be able to find salt somewhere against the western coast of the continent. Somewhere where ocean met desert met mountain.
There is a shire, or something that looks very much like a shrine, standing on the very tip of the highest peak of the mountain range that your people now inhabit. No one has seen the interior because no one has made the climb to the summit. But flags are visible hanging off the top of the circular white shrine. You and your people burn with curiosity.
A lake has been charted to your eastt. It is an odd lake because the north half appears to be fed by an underground heated spring and the south half is fed by mountain snow-melt. The result is that, the north end of the lake is practical bubbling with heat, and the south is quite frigid. There are a number of stone pedestals marking the boundaries of the lake, carved with a language you are unfamiliar with
KhediveRex fucked around with this message at Jun 5, 2017 around 17:13
|# ? Jun 5, 2017 15:52|
Great Mother Alkasaki turns the little jade creature over in her hand. Her fingertips trace the engravings on it. The nightmares hadn't stopped, and neither had the reports of the lands strangeness. Every day brought them new oddities, new challenges. It excited Hakonia, but made her sisters fearful. This thing of jade was the first sign from the Mother Spirits since they arrived. What did it mean? She wasn't sure. The Mother Spirits never spoke to her the way they spoke to some. And that's why Mother Rehn Kirsi is here now.
"We should honor Clan Kuisma for this." Kirsi says.
Mother Rehn Kirsi is a woman of forty odd winters. Her dark hair has just begun to feel the kiss of Salt. The left side of her face bears a heavy scar, a token from one of the first Gault raids into Feial territory. Her left eye is clouded like a winter morning, the other is bright blue - touched by Water.
"We will, Kirsi. Eight fat goats." Hakonia says.
Kirsi stretches out on Hakonia's sleeping mat.
"A start, but not enough." Kirsi says.
Hakonia nods and sits down next to her. It is the first time they have pitched yurts since coming to this land, and it brings Hakonia difficult emotions. This is the yurt she was born in. The yurt whose roof she stared at for two months while her own shattered face healed. It feels like a stranger's now.
"A doubled share of loot from our first raid?" Hakonia says.
Rehn smiles, and Hakonia cannot help but smile herself. She always does that to her. In public, she must scowl and growl, a Great Mother's position demands nothing less than embodying Flame at every moment. Here, with her yurts flap closed, things are simpler, easier.
"Better." Rehn replies.
They share a kiss. Hakonia's fingertips follow the contours of Kirsi's scar.
"But I'm sure you didn't ask me to come here to discuss honors." Kirsi says.
Hakonia lays down on the mat. The smell of smoke, pemmican, and boiled eye-fruit fills her nose.
"You're right." Hakonia says.
She hands Kirsi the jade crab. She takes it tenderly and raises it to her good eye.
"Kuisma Kati was given this by a foreign child." Hakonia says.
Kirsi's eyebrow rises, her way of asking Hakonia to explain. She does. Kirsi nods as she goes. When she finishes she stares at the crab for a long moment.
"Salt has asked us to remember something. I...am not sure what." Kirsi says.
It was not often Kirsi admitted to ignorance in the matters of spirits.
"How many of us will raid?" Kirsi asks.
Hakonia stares up at the yurt's roof. These movements in the flight of Kirsi's mind were something she had grown used to. Her arrow never flew quite straight, but it always flew true.
"Half, the younger half. I want to know our daughters are well protected." Hakonia says.
Kirsi gives an approving grunt.
"I want you to stay." Hakonia says to her.
Kirsi puts an arm over her. Hakonia takes it's hand and holds it close to her body.
"Our daughters will be safe." Kirsi says.
Hakonia squeezes, she knows all the little scars so well.
"I only ask one thing of you." Kirsi says.
Her breath lingers on Hakonia's ear. The fire crackles. Kirsi speaks again.
"Listen, just listen."
Hakonia turns her head to look at Kirsi's face. Her scars catch the firelight.
"Listen to what?" Hakonia says.
Kirsi kisses her again.
"Everything. Salt has told us to remember. You must be aware of history, and your place in it." Kirsi says.
Hakonia turns the rest of her body, and drapes an arm across Kirsi's bony hip.
They say no more that night.
The next morning Mother Rehn Kirsi watches Hakonia, and the two hundred women under her command, leave for war. The little jade crab, however, stays with Kirsi. She holds it up to the gray sky and looks for any imperfections. There are none. Such a strange little thing. Back into one of her coat pockets, between a bag of salt and a sheaf of goatskin prayers. She mounts her own horse and ends back down to the yurts. Each tells a story of their people, some of triumph, some of starvation. Kirsi's own speaks of the scar that pins her face in place, earned saving young daughters from Gaultese men. She dismounts her horse and ties her to a post next to her yurt before heading inside. There is much planning to do.
While Hakonia is gone, Mother Rehn is empowered to act in her stead. She sets out a map of the land they have - the Härmäläs are spread before them, like a promise. Rehn dislikes the name, it means "Memory of What We Have Lost". None seemed very concerned with what they had gained. Strange as this land was, it was fertile, rich, but more than that - it was strong. Strong enough to break the lives of static dwellers. A land strong enough for the Clans. She organizes four scouting forces - each of five strong women and their horses. Hakonia, ever practical, sent out the smallest possible effective scouting force - but forgot that five is a more spiritually auspicious number. As five, the scouts will be in higher spirits than they would otherwise be.
And those ruins, she would have something special for them. Hakonia had ordered them marked as impure, and they are. She was not wrong. What she was wrong to do was order them to remain unexplored. Instead, Mother Rehn would send ten women of her Clan, her most discreet and loyal soldiers, to explore them and then have them marked in accordance with Hakonia's orders after they were done. She must know how this land defeated the static dwellers, so it may not play it's tricks on them.
Actions This Turn
Pictured: A map of Feial military and scouting actions this turn. Black arrows are scouting teams of 5 women each. The red arrow represents a military force of 200.
1. 200 Feial women held south, towards Blackrock's settlement under the direct command of Great Mother Alkasaki. Mother Rehn Kirsi is empowered to act in her stead.
2. The mountain range the Feial are currently dwelling on is to be named the Härmälä.
3. Clan Rehn will be the first to split off from the main force and attempt to follow the migration of the sheep and domesticate them. Mother Rehn Kirsi will continue moving north, appointing her sister to act as Clan Mother - she is the Great Mother's spiritual advisor after all.
4. Four scouting forces of five women and their horses each will be sent off in the directions indicated with black arrows. Each force is under orders to move with maximum stealth, while oppurtunistically hunting for salt.
5. Mother Rehn Kirsi sends a force of ten of her most trustworthy women to investigate the structure and mark it as impure after they are done.
6. The main portion will resume it's course north as soon as the Great Mother returns from her military action.
The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at Jun 5, 2017 around 21:10
|# ? Jun 5, 2017 19:17|
Sir Andrew Gene Blackwood
“THEY DID WHAT!?!?!” Andrew screams, all pretense, all sense of the smooth and sauve man gone, replaced with a man to panicked and nowhere near drunk enough to deal with the situation in front of him. “Oh drat it drat it drat it.” Massaging his temples and walking in circles, he screams “HARBANK!” before continuing his pace. The Captain enters, and Andrew just about composes himself.
“Okay.” Andrew sucked a deep breath through his teeth. “Crunch time. How do you fight an opponent better trained then you, more maneuverable then you, somewhat better armed then you and fully prepared to destroy you?” Andrew looked expectantly, somewhat hopefully, at the pair before him. When no answers were forthcoming, he let out an expletive. “poo poo! I don’t know! Argh, I was never a god drat army or navy man. The only people that were were my Father and Uncle Malcolm.”
Thinking of his Uncle, Andrew felt himself pull back into himself, immersing in a memory long past and slightly blurred by alcohol.
Malcolm Hawke posted:
“Now, there’s a lot of debate about cannons Andrew, but the important thing to remember is this. Non-ferrous are generally higher quality, but far more expensive. A good Bronze or Brass cannon won’t rust and so won’t need as much maintenance, don’t need to be as big as Iron ones since they’re tougher and blah blah blah.
“By the Staff of the Hierophant did you ever shut up about crossbows Uncle?” Andrew remembered that day. Well he didn’t, not much. Fourteen was a helluva time when it came to his palette, and what little he could remember was mostly a drunken haze. Still, too stressed to recompose himself, what little memory that was there continued.
Malcolm Hawke posted:
“Crossbow crossbow crossbow stone-throwing onager at the right size could be ship blah blah scorpion could also be used to hurl rocks, crushing the skulls blah blah much like a ballista firing it’s magnificent projectile. Blah blah Macomedian fire blah blah set’s even the seas ablaze blah blah burning them all blah blah screaming for mercy! But I would give blah blah a god of the sea! An architect of burning death!
“Malcolm you brilliant, crazed genius” Andrew exclaimed, startling the pair of Admirals. When asked, Andrew explained. “We don’t fight, that’s the ticket. Here we are behind stone buildings and walls, on the opposite side of a river. Why in the hell would we go out to fight them when we can just stay in here, safe? And that’s not even the best bit!”
With a hop and a skip, Andrew jumps up. “You know why the Feial were beginning to fall out of favour in recent years? They were becoming less and less useful. An archer on foot is superior to one that is mounted in most respects. The bows can be bigger, giving greater range and penetration and since your not breaking your back on a charging horse, your far more accurate! The only thing horseback archers have is that they are more maneuverable and in a siege situation, that’s less then useless! We just have to make New Rotham the hardest, most unappealing target possible. And we have all the tools to do it!”
In a rush, he explains his memory; bronze and brass cannons were preferable for quality, construction, ease of use and the fact that they didn’t rust, but iron ones were far cheaper simply because tin and zinc were much less accessible then copper. With all three elements together so close, there was no reason not to use the alloys to make better guns, faster.
“And I am not talking about a ship borne 20 pounder. A 4 or a 6 pounder would do. Far more range then a composite bow, much easier to reload. After all, it’s not like we’re trying to pierce armour.”
In a rapid, near panicked state, Andrew pulls reams of paper and starts drawing. To the two people sharing the room, it looks like a giant… crossbow?
“Scorpians were a siege weapon used by the Macomedian city states and the Ulman empire. Basically, a big crossbow that threw stones. Totally out classed against modern opponents, but we’re not facing modern opponents! Using modern tools and materials, it’ll be a simple matter to improve the ancient designs. More range means more killing power! Even a rock can kill if it’s moving fast enough! And if not kill, it’ll injure! Can’t fight if you’re to badly hurt, and the fact that a wall mounted scorpian has a greater range then a bow is a mere pleasant addition. I can even make them safer and simpler to handle. More so then a cannon at least, in the hands of the untrained. I could perhaps even do something with a Ballista design… the only problem is wood for fuelling the forge and the construction of the weapons we’ll need… Okay, I have a plan.”
- - - - -
The plan was as follows. Three ships would be lain with cherry wine, dried cherry powder and a few ornamental Jade Crabs, for the purposes of quickly raising funds to buy up necessary supplies; either to help fend off or repair from an attack. With the ships, would go two letters. The first would be sent to the King and Court and would read;
”The Desk of Lord Blackwood” posted:
To milord, King Richard Antes, long may you reign. It is with great sadness I send you this most urgent missive. Within, I provide several written and sworn affidavits by Captains, Officers and other able seamen who bit witnessed and survived the crime of which I now write.
The second, for the Crown Prince’s eyes only would read;
”The Heart of Andrew posted:
My dearest Freddy, I write you now in what may be the last letter I ever send you. First, I’m sorry. I did not mean what was said that day I was sent away. I know it was out of the goodness of yours and your fathers hearts that I was sent away to safety. I only hope your bottomless kindness was not poisoned by the foulness of my words. Your tenderness has always been an inspiration.
Although help would not arrive for many months, it was necessary to keep hope alive in the people. If New Rotham could survive until relieved, then that would be enough.
Two more ships would saddle up with enough food for a six month journey. One would go up the coast and the other down. They would sail for three months before turning back home. With them a third set of letters would be carried, reading;
”The Desk of Lord Blackwood” posted:
Fellow men and woman of Gault, I bring news of betrayal. Several nights ago, five ships were rescued from what was assumed to be a failed expedition. The men starving and gaunt of face. They were rescued and bought to my own colony where the truth was revealed.
Two ships would be decommissioned from military use, and would instead transition into a more civilian role; that of a fishing fleet. A protracted battle runs on it’s stomach and access to food would be a priority. A fishing fleet would allow another way to access precious food, should Feial raiding render it impossible to work the farmland. The ships could also be partially filled with cattle and civilians, rendering them safe from reprisals. Finally, the last two ships would be scrapped; their wood and spare parts rendered toward more important tasks. The last ship would remain, using it's cannon allotment ro rake fire across any army foolish enough to travel along the coast. A smelter and metal works were of utmost importance to create weapons that might disable the Feial advantage. Simple to use, ancient style siege weapons would also be made, in order to harass any raiding party. What else that was left, and could be gotten ahold of in time would go toward further fortifying New Rotham.
“We don’t need huge walls, understand.” Andrew would explain. “It would be unlikely that they’re ready for a siege. Larger is better, but a four or five foot wall would render most of their advantages moot and severely slow them down.”
It would be an endless rush of activity over the next few weeks and months. Andrew and the people of New Rotham were racing against a doomsday clock. Fortunately, there was enough liquid confidence to keep Andrew's spirits high.
Second; The militia is hereby activated. The only thing the 150 soldiers will be doing is training, marching, patrolling, drilling or resting in between their previous tasks. Andrews not a military man, but he grew up around them and is himself a bit of a duelist, so he will assist in training in the hopes of getting a better tactical sense. As part of this, no one is to cross the river after dark until this time of trouble is over. They should also be discouraged from venturing far away.
Third; Odde will be interrogated, in order to learn as much as possible about any possible Feial attack.
Fourth; Fortification efforts will begin in earnest, building walls, shoring up weak points and generally making things difficult for any attacker. This is meant to include both stone structures and wooden ones, like stakes in the ground to hamper enemy movement. A lookout tower or two should also be built, if possible.
Fifth; Andrew, in his spare time will oversee construction of a few older styles of siege weapons, with improved more modern designs; stone chucking Scorpians and bolt throwing Ballistas, in order to harrass any potential attackers. These won’t be fielded by militia (who will be fighting with muskets and cannon), but rather the ordinary citizens. An hour a day drilling with the devices won’t make them experts, but every little helps.
Sixth; A foundry and smeltery will be set up along the river, to make use of water wheels to increase the heat of bellows. Primarily, they’re going to be constructing smaller scale cannons out of bronze and brass, to support the larger ship cannons as well as harass attackers. These will be fielded by militia.
Seventh; The leather works will be diverted from regular clothing for the time being, into making essential armour.
Eighth; We’ll slightly encourage Jackal-Rabbit populations for now while protecting the cattle, in hopes that they may be tamed, or at least hunted for their furs. If they get to aggressive, then we have some target practice for the militia. Should an attack come from that direction, a couple of wild animals that can take down cows could be the perfect distraction.
Since most of my actions concerned preparing for an attack, and we've now already run through the attack on Discord, KhediveRex has allowed me to rejigger around my turn orders since there is a lot more time left in the six months.
First; Re apply the wooden infrastructure that was lost so we can get back on track as soon as possible. Most relevant to us are the foundry and smeltery, who’s scaffolding was probably lost in the attack.
Second; Morale will likely start to be an issue in the wake of this attack. Therefore, I want to lay down the starts of a small chapel to provide comfort for those who find it in the arms of the lord, as well as a tavern for those who find it in the arms of comrades in arms. Essentially the tavern will be owned and “run” by Andrew, with a few actual qualified staff members actually running and Andrew subsidising the place by providing the alcohol.
Third; Now that we have an assurance of peace (from the Feial), I can concentrate on infrastructure tasks. Start building a Winery, to begin producing enough wine for export as well as domestic consumption.
Forth; We have a lot of meat not suitable for human consumption. So, start trying to pacify the local Jackal-Rabbits (new name pending). Taming and domesticating for their fur and killing ability is the eventual end goal. We can’t do that straight away, but a population increase should lend itself to making trapping the animals easier.
Fifth; Andrew will spend some off time in the other relevant plot locations; the forest and the Jade Crab Dump. The forest is currently off limits for logging until it can be determined that harvesting won’t damage the natural beauty of the site, or risk the other trees. It’s unlikely, but it could be the starts of an attempt to forest the area north of the colony, but this is far in the future. For the Crabs, Andrew will try to determine the quality and provenance and whether it is safe to remove more then have already been taken.
Sixth; Seeing Hakonia atop Betsy gave Andrew a wonderful idea. Currently the cattle are bred for meat and milk, but it should be possible to breed for size and endurance. A Dire Ox, if you will. These will be stronger and tougher then regular cows, so as to power wheels and turbines where a water wheel is impossible. Again, in the future, a task force of cattle mounted fighters may be possible. Maybe three men to an Ox, one to drive, one to fire muskets and one to reload muskets. “
No I don’t how practical that is. I am so drunk too numb the pain right now I don’t even know which of the 8 of you I’m talking too. Just… look into it!”
OscarDiggs fucked around with this message at Jun 8, 2017 around 06:32
|# ? Jun 6, 2017 00:23|
Mortimer C. Snodgrass
Mortimer Snodgrass was under more pressure than he had been in the last fifteen years, and he could say with complete honesty that he’d never felt better.
Some personalities crumple under stress. Mortimer thrived on it—he couldn’t stand having nothing to do, no problems to solve. True, his colony at Fairport was doing exceptionally well, with no worries for food or wealth or security, but there were always things cropping up. He looked up from his desk, in the vaulted attic office at the top of the town hall. “’Up north’, they say?”
Across the desk from him stood Commander Griswold, quiet as a statue, and a scruffy-looking sample of the sailor’s trade, who nodded. “Yessir. Little more ‘n rumors. But they said they were keepin’ somethin’ for a rainy day.”
“Plenty of rain in these parts, metaphor doesn’t really work,” Mortimer mumbled to himself, reviewing the sheet on his desk—which he didn’t tell the sailor was an inventory of all the statues they’d cataloged and moved over the last six months. Several were missing. He looked up, and nodded. “Much obliged, Roger. I think this is very important information indeed.” He waved a hand at the staircase. “See yourself out, good man. I’ll have someone come by with a little reward for this later.” He leaned over the desk. “And don’t tell ANYONE what you told me. This is important.”
Whether intimidated or taken in by the sudden flash in the trader’s eyes, the sailor saluted. “Sir!” Then he was gone.
Griswold watched him go, and then turned back. “Should we start making arrests? I do remember your orders regarding those statues.”
“Mmm… no, I don’t think so.” Mortimer neatly arranged the papers in his hand, then pulled open a desk drawer and set them inside as he talked. “No sense in riling up the sailors or letting them know that we’re on to them, as it were. And I think we can kill two birds with one stone.”
He straightened up, folding his hands. “Get a party of… let’s say twenty-five soldiers together, along with the chief surveyor and some men to help with physical work.” He tapped on the map he’d had set up next to his desk; it was visible throughout the whole of the office. “I want you to head north to the great lake we discovered, and survey it thoroughly. If there’s anything of value there I want to know about it. And if you stumble across anything else on the way…”
Griswold nodded. “I understand.” He saluted, and left the office.
Mortimer sat there, thinking, as he waited for the next person to mount the stairs. Sailors aren’t going to be kept placid by work on land. They’ll naturally search for something to line their pockets in the meantime. I think it’s time to move ahead to the next phase of operations. But for that…
By the time Captains Albright and Marcion had climbed up into the office, Mortimer was standing by the windows, looking out at the harbor. He turned as they arrived, taking advantage of their momentary confusion at the empty desk. “Gentlemen! My good colleagues.”
The two of them started, then turned, joining him by the windows. Albright spoke first--younger, more impetuous. “Sir. You wanted us?”
“That I did.” Mortimer turned back to the bay view. “You two are my most trustworthy captains. I have a very important mission for you.” He looked back, and smiled slightly. “Well, two. But one more than the other, and also more dangerous.”
The two of them looked at each other for a moment, then back to him. This time, Marcion spoke. “Sir, we’d follow you into Hell, you know that.”
“Hah! Nothing quite like that.” Mortimer turned away from the windows, nodding. “Albright, your Freedom is better suited for crossing the Ocean Sea again.” He produced three letters from his pocket, in finely written script. “Take the marked statue from the trade goods house, a selection of the finer woods, and a satchel of the gemstones we’ve collected.”
Albright did himself credit by not reacting; a satchel would be worth most of the price of his ship. “Yes sir.”
“Sail back to Gault, and contact the Iron Sea Company--Mssr. Underwood, specifically. Tell them that we have succeeded in establishing a foundational colony, and are more than ready to receive more ships and colonists. The wood and gems are to go to them--the statue is to be kept covered and presented to the King.” The Underwoods were longtime family friends, but minor partners relative to Snodgrass’ peers--a message to those like Baltimore and Appleton that he hadn’t forgotten, but not such a snub that it would come across as an insult.
Albright saluted. “Yes, sir!” He took off, perhaps a little too eagerly.
Marcion watched him go with a smile, then turned back to his boss. “And myself, sir?”
Mortimer stretched, turning back to the windows and pulling them closed. “You are going back out to explore. I want news of the other colonies.”
Marcion nodded. “And yourself, sir?”
“Perceptive.” Mortimer smiled. “Negotiating a trade deal can be done through secondaries, if necessary. But negotiating a border is another matter. You’ve done well so far, Robert, but it’s time I met Malcom Hawke face to face.”
LOG OF THE ACTIONS OF FAIRPORT COLONY, MONTH 6-12
BUILDING ACTIONS (Foreman G. Jones)
-Small boats purpose built for fishing are to be built from local wood, to take over fishing duties from the main fleet.
-Foundations (dock, designated munitions store) are to be built at the star marker as base for the future Naval Station.
-Additional housing and farming space is to be cleared and constructed (but not planted) in preparation for anticipated future colonists.
FLEET ACTIONS (Harbormaster R. Kingston)
-Freedom (captain Z. Albright) to sail home to Gault with a sample trade cargo and gifts for the King. Freedom sails with a ten-man guard in addition to the normal crew.
-Enterprise (captain I. Lanchester) to investigate reports of horned sea-beasts outside of the bay mouth.
-Temerity (captain R. Marcion) to sail south past Great River and locate additional colonies to the south. Temerity will carry the trade goods initially earmarked for the natives.
-Seagull and Meredith Snodgrass (captains J. Owens and H. Stanton) are to remain fishing and patrolling the harbor until such time as they are not needed in this role.
GROUND ACTIONS (Garrison Commander J. Griswold)
-Commander J. Griswold to lead small group north to Long Lake, ostensible. Griswold is to search for the secret cache some sailors are supposedly putting together in the meantime. (Griswold is at his own discretion as to what to do with the cache, which means he’s probably going to dismantle it on the return trip if he finds it and haul the stuff back to the main warehouse).
Mortimer’s Note: Fairport will be without its guard commander and a significant portion of its guard complement during these six months. This is a calculated risk.
-Change of orders on statues. All golden statues encountered are to be removed and collected under guard in the Fairport Governor’s Warehouse (formerly, trade goods warehouse). Carven wood markers are to replace them, so as to record position and direction.
-Governor M. Snodgrass is to lead a major expedition into the cave systems. The primary purpose is to more accurately survey the mineral deposits. The secondary is to catalog and document the various tombs and determine the state of the flooded central cavern.
Redeye Flight fucked around with this message at Jun 6, 2017 around 05:49
|# ? Jun 6, 2017 03:05|
Clare pats down the hulking beast, a tear of cured boar's ear bouncing on his lips as he chews, blind of the irony of the situation. "There, there. We're not going to hurt you, sire." the bristling boar bucks against his hand; four mounted knights heave against the swine's shifting weight with tethers lashed to the horses. Clare does not flinch. "When I saw you bound into the forest on my arrival, I knew-" he rips a piece from the ear and gobbles it down, "I knew this was a match God intended. Soon you'll be old, with progeny, and well cared for indeed. I have a grand plan, Hamilton. A grand plan." The brute wiles again, already splayed on the ground by the tethers, and emits a cacophonous squeal drowning the din throughout the palisade walls like a battalion of trumpeters hearkening a royal arrival. The sound was becoming droll now, to the nameless fort of the Gaultese Church.
"Your plan to husband these beasts continues? We're fed well on them. They seem plentiful, and trap easily M'lord. Would your efforts not be spent elsewhere?"
"They would, Miles," Clare stands from the dire swine to give his ally a firm clasp on the shoulder, "And that is why I leave the task in your charge. You were always good with the horses, but absent your legs, you are no good in the saddle by my side. I shall need your wise governance in this matter, my friend. You're seeming much sturdier on the peg. I fear you may cast aside the crutches, soon?"
"If God sees it fit, aye; as you know my heart wills it. If I may be so bold to ask, why put an old cripple to such a feat?"
"You thought to get off so easy, brother?" Clare gives a hearty laugh, "Nay, I see your reason, but I can not suffer a stoic to wither to sin absent the Lord's work. With but a word, I could send you back home when we embark for Gault."
"No, M'lord, God will put me to health in station. Thank you for trusting this project to my capabilities."
"Indeed He will, Miles. There could be no better man!"
Clare worries the poor cider he brewed for himself when the colonists had discovered the apples carried on his fetid breath. He'd outlawed such vices as drinking to excess himself, after all. The liberty of the night wore itself handsomely on Clare's composure; his poor reflexes and stagger confused for bravery and bravado by the other knights. MIles was no stranger to Clare's sinful libation and philanderings. He was plagued with demons, the forgotten prince, but he was a good man. The law change was moot, anyway, and perhaps done for the commander's sole benefit; very few of the devout in the camp had any vices at all. Miles could not even find a decent gambling ring. None were so replete with time to indulge them for all the labor they were set to.The palisade wall was coming along nicely, though not at a rate befitting their situation. The devil lizards near south plague the settlement, specifically the lumber efforts for the southern portion of the barrier. Once it was done, the populace would rest easier knowing that a pack of colossal reptiles would not be basking ahead their front doors. For now, however, all colonists are required to abide a curfew for their own safety; patrols of riders scouting the town before dawn and clearing the streets of any rogue lizards, however rare their presence has been. The cries of captive boars and fear of the devils keep many of the faithful awake long into the dark of the night, unrelentingly assaulted by the geyser of brimstone punctuating the hours. Many have found these solitary hours maddening, and that without prayer and the voice of God they would be driven to horrible sin during the curfew. God is good, though, and many women of the camp are blessed with young paladins in their bellies.
An odd offshoot of the plentiful snakes is an egalitarian fashion trend and burgeoning industry. Men, women, children and horses all, have taken to having their legs swaddled in cloth, and leather procured from the boars. Some say the fumes from the tannery attracts the scaled terrors from the south; but until the dire boars are tamed and set upon the serpents of the land it is the best defensive measure the people can divine. The talk within the burgeoning compound is mostly focused on God, as could be assumed, but many consider their toil in this blasted hellscape a punishment for their ambition. Clare's words and sermons effectively soothe the civilians, though they have taken to calling their settlement Hellsgate; and many beg for provenance from shores afar. Scouting missions are sent; riders outward to the boundaries inland, and the ships to patrol the sea east; marking the coast unknown. It is Clare's hope that some of the young squires begin combat training, as well, and makes a point to have the foraging teams put effort toward goal for at least an hour a day. Generally, the daily toil is not wildly changed from the months previous. Foresters are still a major component of the workforce, and houses are erected for the populace.
"People of... Hellsgate. That is what we are calling it now, yes? It is a fine name for our humble beginnings here, in the New World. We are laden with Dragons in our womb, the guardians of the only measure of tradegood we have acquired, southward near the Devil's Arse. The serpents of the West hide in every nook and corner; aye, mind your step my brothers and sisters. The cries of the dire swine haunt us, even now in this Holy hall; but it is an evil necessary for a fine future for us. Yea, our children will know a life with the demon beasts as we do our horses. For now, we are fed. We have roofs. We will have a wall. God is good!"
Clare allows the chorus of "Amens" mumbled by the people to abate.
"Many of you will see the land beyond our meager hovels and this fine, red pine church, in these coming months. Aye, God sees us to the edges of what we know in this land. We must make contact with our Gaultese allies. We will do the good work of the Lord in diplomacy with the other factions sent to this land, when we find them. Yea, for we have a terrible task, my brothers and sisters. Let not fear grip us, for our task though terrible is every bit necessary. We'll need help. We'll need every heart together. And we will be proud in accomplishment. Aye, we do all this for safety, to prove glory to God. But there can be nothing more glorious than our Great aim. Our next task. The shining ship on the horizon."
Clare dabs his forehead with a fine cloth, sweat trickling down his strong brow.
"The Tower. On the anniversary of our arrival, should God see it fit, we will set forth into the maw of that ancient place, and on high give thanks to our Savior. Aye, brothers and sisters, from the very top. We shall see what terrors this land holds, face them with the devotion we give our Lord, see them strewn before us and give glory to his name. For now we work. But know my intent. Not yet, my brothers and sisters, but soon. Soon, we shall climb that tower to God!"
1. Boar taming efforts begin. Sir Miles is set to task, governing the operation. They are to be bred selectively, prioritizing bravery and stupidity. If the boars are to be mounts in the future, they do not need to be intelligent enough to second-guess their actions. For now, it is enough for them to be unafraid of humans and trained in basic commands. Action is taken toward setting up infrastructure to house and farm the animals. This moves into a leather industry to outfit the people, as well.
2. The wall must be finished. This is the paramount priority of the settlement, though absolutely no measures will be taken to cut corners on the project. Earthen embankments are to be set against the inside wall, and a trench outside. The surety of its construction and purpose is the only thing keeping us safe from the terrors outside.
3. Scouting. Mass scouting parties are sent to expand our circle of understanding, and the ships gifted us put to use to map our adjacent sea toward the far coasts. The landmasses within the bay, beyond the tower, as well should be seen to.
4. Training has begun. Generally, young squires are to be taken as foraging assistants by Knights. Those knights will test their skills and strengths, and move toward combat training after a period of trials. This should keep our soldiers in supply and well trained.
|# ? Jun 6, 2017 07:09|
Calvin's expedition spent the night in the old observatory. While the others slept, Calvin and two of the men sat around a small fire, talking. "I've never seen anything like this. Certainly nothing like this in Gault. And those glass windows... who would build such a thing?"
There were mute shrugs from the men. One of them, an old soldier named Johann, asked, "You reckon they are worth something?"
"Well, if we could get them out intact. And then haul them back to town, without breaking them. Seems like a lot of work, though."
"Besides, are we here to get rich? What would you buy with all that gold?"
"Would be nice..."
Calvin remembered that Johann had not been born into the cult, he had married into it. Perhaps he did not remember the persecution the order had faced in living memory. "We're here to build a home for us. Far away from the church, the lords, the king. Gold only attracts unwelcome attention, like flies to a corpse. Our riches will be full bellies and warm homes. Beer brewed by our own hands, without the king's tax. Happy families and fat children. And of course, the favor of Azathoth. Far away from those who would deny him his due."
"A fine thing," replied Johann. "I hope the world will let us keep it."
"Aye, there's the rub. I don't expect any fighting, but maybe it would be best if you could train some of the others in how to fight? How to use the musket, how to look like soldiers? Just in case."
"I guess. I never wanted to soldier again. But I suppose I could show them how to drill. How to load a musket, how to fight with a bayonet. Don't think we can waste powder with firing drills, though. Not nearly enough powder for that."
"I ah, hadn't thought of that. Where do you get gunpowder from?"
"Comes in barrels from the quartermaster. Dunno where he gets it from. Could buy it with gold, though... Still. Don't think we'd beat soldiers in a stand-up fight. Azathoth blind me, it just won't happen. Not with peasant militia."
"The best way to win is not to fight," replied Calvin. "Any armed bands come here, we welcome them in. Smile and nod, promise them anything. Ply them with food and beer. We can always kill them in their sleep, if necessary."
The others grinned and nodded. The other man, a poacher named Jacob, said "Still, might be best if we had some warning? I could take a few lads scouting and hunting around the camp every couple days. Maybe set up some fishing camps in the swamps so's we can keep eyes out. Them dogs would be a treat for that, teach them to hunt and track game. And intruders."
Back at the colony, life continued. The town had its first birth, its first death. A wedding. Calvin performed the traditional rites. It was strange to do them openly, without looking over your shoulder for churchmen or informants. True to his word, Jacob would take out hunting parties with bows and slings out to look for game and scout for intruders. Fishing camps were set up at various lakes to catch fish and crawdads, whatever was edible from the swamps. Every seven-day Johann would take a few peasants and drill them as a soldier. Trying to teach them to march in line, how to use their muskets, fire by rank, fix bayonets and charge, the usual drills for soldiers. Johann also supervised digging a ditch around the settlement, backed by a low earthen breastwork. "Better to have it than not have it, I reckon" he would say when anyone complained about digging in the humidity.
When the harvest came, the drills and many of the patrols stopped. There was far too much work to be done... because there were far more crops to harvest than expected. The grain was scythed down, threshed and winnowed. Vegetables and fruits picked, and stored. A few problems were obvious immediately... with only a few hand-mills, making flour was far more difficult than it had been back at home. Although the problem could be solved by roasting the grain into malt and then brewing it into ale, there were far too few kettles and casks to really turn it into a large-scale process. Ultimately, the solution for much of the surplus was to dig cool cellars and store it as best they could. The problems of abundance. Once the harvest was finished, the colony held a massive feast, a thanks-giving to Azathoth, for his blessing in this strange land. Five fat piglets were sacrificed at a small altar, their blood spilled onto the fields, their flesh roasted in great spits.
"Brethren, we have accomplished so much here, by the favor of Azathoth. Blood has enriched his fields, and he has given back to us his bounty. With his grace, we may get a second harvest this year. It will be hard work, I grant, but there are fields to clear and crops to plant again. With enough food, though, comes freedom. We are finally free from the many chains that bound us back in Gault..."
Later, though, speaking to one of his acolytes, Calvin took a more subdued tone. "They cannot bother us here, but we still need some supplies from back home. I am sending a few of the boats back to Gault. We are going to trade some of the food surplus for essential supplies; we need barrels, copper kettles, more iron plows. Oxen. A millstone. We also need to bring more of our brethren across the sea. But try to find us some brewers, coopers, brick-makers, potters, and coal-miners amongst the faithful. If you can. Also, deliver this letter to the Earl of Weselton."
The acolyte, a young priestess named Laurel, nodded. "Yes, brother. More supplies. More brethren. Letter. Azathoth will guide me."
After the festival, there were a few days of light work. Games, sports. Recreation. A time to relax, to pray, to celebrate their good fortune. But soon enough, the time came to begin the cycle anew, to clear fields and begin planting. Although with a few fewer hands; three of the boats, holds full to bursting with food, were sent back to Gault. The priestess Laurel had instructions to deliver the letter directly to the hand of the Earl of Weselton. Although he was a loyal follower, he was also a secret one, and she had instructions to be extremely discrete.
Once the boats set off for Gault, Calvin worked with the others, clearing the fields, and plowing the earth. But eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. Calling upon Johann the soldier, and Jacob the scout to pick three of the best hunters and three of the best soldiers, Calvin led an expedition off to the north. Those great stone structures had some meaning to them. Perhaps another sacred spot to Azathoth? Or another god of the earth? He decided to inspect them in person.
Basic stuff. Set up patrols, a palisade around the town proper, if possible. Train some militia. But also try to set up basic industry. Milling flour & brewing beer. I realize we may need more equipment, so trading food surplus back in Gault for some more equipment if possible, begging our patron for another loan if necessary. Having a feast in thanks to Azathoth, and then trying for a second harvest next turn. And then, of course, bringing more of our brethren over to this new land. Then Calvin and eight followers will go check out the northern megaliths.
sullat fucked around with this message at Jun 7, 2017 around 04:05
|# ? Jun 7, 2017 03:55|
"It is freedom, this strange and beautiful land."
Letter to the King's uncle, His Grace Arthur FitzRoy, Duke of Brightwell
"Damned crocodiles! We should blast them out of the river with cannonfire!"
Sir Malcolm Hawke
He was never the sort of man to give much credence to dreams. Mostly because he rarely-- if ever-- did dream. Other veterans might close their eyes and be confronted with the horrors of war. Other men might see loves lost rewon. Hawke found only sleep and darkness.
And yet, of late, the darkness was no empty void. In the fleeting moments before wakefulness appeared a searing yellow eye and the hint of swirling tentacles behind its glow. And then it was all gone. And he was awake.
Archie laid his drawings across Hawke's table. Though it seemed a little incorrect to call them simply drawings. The accuracy was astounding. And Hawke said as much.
"The accuracy is astounding," he said.
"Thank you, sir."
Hawke licked the flat of his thumb and flipped through the pages. Archie had meticulously cataloged the myriad of statutes the colonists had dug up. Mostly vague shapes made indecipherable by age or design. Impossible to tell. But there were human beings, too. And animals. Pigs and goats and rams and boars and birds and lizards and… stranger things, too. Figurines in various states of costuming and nudity. Animals he didn’t recognize. Possibly nonexistent. Primitive blasphemous iconology, perhaps. Certainly something to be looked into. He made a mental note and then continued through the collection. More beasts. More figures. More-- there it was-- the creature! By god! Tentacles and all! It was in black and white but Hawke could still somehow sense the proper coloration like the sweet smell of strawberries sitting in a bowl one room over. Barely a hint. But enough. Enough.
Why had someone...
“Very good, my lad,” he said, shuffling the papers back together. “Very good.”
“Thank you, sir.” Archie smiled. “It’s good to, uh, not get in trouble for practicing the old craft here. There’s quite a few of us that feel that way. It’s appreciated, is what I’m trying to say. Good to be here.”
“Good to have you here. I’d say the Church’s prison’s loss is Gault’s gain.” Hawke winked and handed over the collection. “Properly bind that, would you, lad? I’d like to be able to place it on a shelf. Look at it at my leisure. Show it off. That sort of thing.”
“Thank you." Hawke gave a polite nod of dismissal but Archie didn't leave. He continued to stand in place. "Is there," Hawke asked slowly, "something else?"
"It's just... It's funny. I went to prison--"
"I saw your file," Hawke said. "I know. Operating a business without proper licensure. Operating an illicit business. Operating an illicit business with intent to produce obscenity. Possession of obscenity. Left-handedness."
"I could have rotted for fifteen years in that cell."
"Yes, well." Hawke smiled and spread open his hands. "Modernity, my lad. The New World is a place for modernity. For men of talent and drive. For men like you and me."
Archie returned the smile. "They'd have called those little naked figurines obscene for sure. And I'd be guilty just for having redrawn them."
"Is that what you were doing back in Gault? Sketching out nude statues?"
"Eh..." Archie sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Not statues..."
Their new foundry-- and the abundance of nearby metallurgical resources-- made for quick repairs to the massive wall that enclosed the colony. Hawke slapped it and laughed.
"If there is a finer colony in all of Peregrin Minor then I'd like to see it!"
He'd christened their settlement New Brightwell in honor of their patron, His Grace Arthur FitzRoy, the Duke of Brightwell. But he'd also named the nearby lake Lake Brightwell. And he'd declared the nearby mountain peak to be Mt. Brightwell. The river, thank goodness, was the River FitzRoy. But then there was the ship the Brightwell and Point Brightwell on the coast and crocodylus britewelicus in the river and it was all an awful much for most people.
Benedict Catesby-Foggins, a former professor of Classic Literature back in Gault and proud owner of the finest mustache of the colony, called their home "the Old Arx." For it was "like an ancient citadel created by the heroes of antiquity, strengthened to hold against foe and time alike." He was a quirky old man, white-haired, prone to bursts of blathering about this topic or that, and someone whose company Hawke enjoyed in small amounts. The rest of the colony found Catesby-Foggins to be either irritating and endearing in varying shades. Quite a few took to calling New Brightwell "the Old Arx" as well. Ironically, of course. Patronizingly.
Except irony doesn't really hold up well over time. And nicknames can become real names.
"Yes," Hawke said, unaware of the nominative change taking place. "We are lucky to have found this Old Arx."
He strolled along the edge of the wall as he made his way back towards the foundry. It certainly kept them safe, the wall did. While they were inside. But the river wildlife just meters away was openly hostile to the presence of... well... everything. Man. Boat. Everything. He wanted to open fire with a cannonade and would have already done so were it not a tremendous waste of resources.
But what fun it would be!
He smiled wistfully at the thought.
The thought stayed with him for several days, lurking in the back of his mind like a hungry mugger stalking a fat, drunk nobleman down a dark alley. And like the mugger, eventually, it struck. He was eating dinner, a fork halfway to his mouth, when the epiphany came-- steam. Steam!Modern man must bend the world to his needs and right now they were sitting on a mountain of steam and doing absolutely nothing with it.
He emptied his fork back onto his plate and began using the utensil as a tool of creation. He pushed mashed potatoes and meats and vegetables into vague cylinder forms. It could work. It could work. Only close to home, of course. Only right here. On the walls. Where the steam is. But they could harness the energy. It. Could. Work.
There was much to be done.
Year 1 pt II
1) Natural resources
* Poppy and vegetation is to be collected in the territory surrounding Lake Brightwell for the determination of proper use
* Proper site of new coal mine on Mt. Brightwell is to be established. Digging to begin as soon as possible.
* We're still growing our own crops we brought from Gault. Perhaps there are jars of seeds somewhere in our settlement? The previous inhabitants were farmers. What did they farm? It is no doubt better suited for this environment.
2) The Foundry
* Tools. Lots of tools. This includes support columns and such for the coal mining.
* Steam cannon cylinders and parts
* Printing press parts
* Scout the best location for a land route between Old Arx and Fairport
* Blow up crocodiles
* Don't blow up crocodiles. Build a farm to hold them safely so they can be raised, butchered, and eaten/skinned.
Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at Jun 14, 2017 around 16:20
|# ? Jun 7, 2017 17:30|
Your search for medical plants is moderately successful. You discover a curious red root. Its fine for cooking with a mild peppery flavor, but more importantly it seems to have a mild anesthetic quality. Some of your colonists have suggested it culd be brewed into alcohol, so far you have only made some medium strength pain killers.
Arcadia has been everything John has dreamed of. A city built to his plans, wide avenues and plenty of space for future expansion. In fact quite a bit of space. Their colony is prosperous but small, and won't grow soon without an influx of fresh colonists. However they've yet to find any ready resource that might be shipped back to Gault and traded. And while the wide open space and freedom to start a family would appeal to many of the masses back in Gault they lack the funds to get them here.
Ahead of him lays the City Hall. Its still a small building but in his minds eye he can envision its future, a glorious multi level building at the center of a bussiling city. For now it stays a wooden barn with upstart ideas on its size. He joins the que of others entering the building.
Inside there is a general murmur of people and the sound of chairs moving as they find seats. The council chamber is illuminated by slanted beams of light catching faint trails of dust, and a couple of lit oil lanterns. Ignoring the small crowd John makes his way front and center, where he takes his seat at the head of the table. On his right and left are the professors who left Gault to join him here in the new world, free from the churches influences.
He picks up the wooden gavel and gives it a solid thump. "All right all right, I hereby call this meeting." The gathered academia hush in their seats. "Firstly, I'd like thank Dr. Anders once again for coming out of retirement to join us and lending us his expertise. Without it, I doubt our recent expeditions would of gone so well." Polite clapping follows. Dr Anders merely nods in acknowledgement.
"First, if we could hear from the Ostrich Breeding Program?" A young man in the front row stands up. "Ahem. I'm Victor Hemmingway. With the capture of the dire ostrich as breeding stock, we foresee a noticeable improvement in our current breeds and should also have a tame breed of dire ostriches for our self. Of course, these things take time but years from now they'll prove invaluable to the colony."
Much nodding of heads occur.
"Secondly there is the matter of this red root?" A woman stands up in the assembly. "Maria Haents. I found the root on a trip south towards the jungle. It has a fascinating number of uses. Cooked, it adds a peppery taste to food. I was curious about its, ahem, root of cause so I brought it to Professor Ennami. He was able make an extract but it didn't taste of pepper at all. Instead it was medium strength pain killer."
Murmuring among the assembly. Dr Seljons, the colonists head doctor perks up at this and asks, "How strong?"
"We used it on an ostrich that was about to be butchered. It couldn't feel any of the deep cuts that were made."
Dr Seljons smiles. "This is a tremendous resource and one we should make use of immediately. Are any opposed to adding this..Haents Root to the Botany Cultivation Program?" Not a peep is heard. "Then its settled."
"On to point three of the meeting, the proposal for the implementation of the sewer system..."
- - -
It takes three days before they finish. Most of the proposals and arguments were over minor things but several key ones stood out. Heny Wineheart approached the assembly with a radical idea that went for hours in debate before being accepted. A testing chamber for ships only on a small scale with models. He proposed that by first experimenting with these models they could find and correct flaws and improve designs before ever having to build a full scale ship.
During a brain storming session for goods to be shipped back to Gault, the idea was brought up and accepted to make a new plant breed of beets, which seem to thrive in these conditions, that would be high in sugar and could be harvested as an alternative to sugarcane. Easier to plant, grow and harvest than sugarcane, it would be in high demand back home.
The final proposal was the one debated the longest. Establish a fortified outpost at the entrance to the inner sea. The countless man hours it would take and its distance make it unappealing but ultimately it was agreed upon because of one thing. Fear. Despite their claim for rationality, Arcadia fears the influence of the church creeping in. Not to mention they've yet to see any sign of the other colonies, any of whom might be church backed. Controlling the entrance will help secure Arcadia's future, and stake a strong claim to the land in between there and the main city. They'll have to carve out a harbor and burn back the forest to clear its way though.
- - -
Finally free of the distractions of managing the colony (though quite frankly it mostly ran itself, with the other academia planning out things and the former industrial hellhole families content as they could be out here), John returns to his true passion and reason for coming here. His lab. Compromising a not insignificant amount of space on the fifth ship the lab was one of the first buildings to go up and promptly see John disappear into. Its a strange looking building, made in a geometric done. Billowing smoke comes out the top and loud banging noises can be heard periodically from it. No one's been allowed inside besides his partner, Dr. Casaway.
John can see him still hard at work as he enters. Loud muttering and a BANG as something shoots off at high pressure. "Forgot to tighten a bolt again?" quips John.
Casaway pulls up fogged goggles to look at him. "It was one time dammit! And no, it blew off. We'll need to recast again and find some way to control the pressure."
"One time, aye but it nearly shot my leg. And speaking of pressure control, I've had some new ideas..."
1. We will want a technological leg up on any potential rivals if we want to control the inner sea or cut down the travel time to Gault. We laid out the beginnings of a drydock, now we'll finish it and expand it to two slots. In addition a young mathematician, Henry Wineheart, who's father was a sailor proposed an idea. A testing chamber where small scale models of boats could be built and tested before a full scale one is built. He calls it the Water Tunnel. This facility will be made as well and testing to begin immediately, along with samples of the local wood types and their longevity in the water to see which will be used later.
2. With the dire ostrich secured, it will be studded out into the ostrich breeding program. Taming attempts will be made with turnips and the use of blinders to keep it docile. Its strength and size will be of great use in developing dire ostrich mounts. Further attempts will be made with the pygmy ostriches to breed intelligence and loyalty. Pygmy ostriches can serve as pets and highly trained animals, with regular ostriches as meat/egg providers, and dire ostriches as mounts and beasts of war.
3. Continue the cultivation program to produce crops that can not only grow in these conditions but thrive. Use the greenhouses to gradually grow strains of crops that can't grow here into hardier ones that can. In particular, we'll be trying to make a strain of high sugar beets that can be harvested and processed for sugar as a trade good. Far easier to grow and harvest than the slave labor plantations of sugarcane. Begin the cultivation and plant breeding of Haents root as well.
4. Continue to do a geological survey of the area and prospect for minerals, metals etc. Special attention is to be made in the search for iron and coal.
5. Establish an outpost at the opening of the inner sea. This will likely be between 50-100 colonists and have one of the five ships dedicated to it. This early claim will help control the strategically important entrance and help establish Arcadia's claim along the coast line.
6. Dr Cassaway and John have made progress but they're not finished yet. John can feel they are almost on the cusp of a break through. Continue to harness the power of heat and water to make...steam! Steam to power a new world of science and reason!.
7. Not a high effort but set up a small distillery using machinery we brought on our fifth ship. Experiment with brewing of the Haents root.
|# ? Jun 8, 2017 13:02|
Devotee Beatryx Mayble
1. Send scouting parties further south and north of the river, equipped with horses.
2. Farm the silk bugs and the meaty centipedes
3. Continue progress on the gathering hall and barracks.
4. Beatryx continues alchemical study of new reagents from the continent.
5. Send a 40-strong contingent of mixed soldiers and variously skilled workers to quarantine the castle to the east and attempt a rescue mission of Sister Ivy. They will have large amounts of torches and pots of pitch, and supplies to boil water and harvest food over long periods of time. Beatryx will personally assist with the attempt, but not the general quarantine.
[Fiction to come soon]
|# ? Jun 12, 2017 23:54|
To the Ungrateful Chieftess Hakonia.
We have offered you and your people a chance for a new life, and our kindness has been spat upon.
For attacking our men and a neighboring colony, you have declared war on Gault.
Understand that you will no longer be under Our protection, and your charter declared invalid.
May God save you and your people.
King Matthew Antes
To the Illustrious Mr. Mortimer Snodgrass,
News of Fairport's development have reached our ears, and the Company has two concerns. The first is with the neighboring colony in the south, the Old Arx, as I've been hearing it called. It is understood that borders have been agreed upon, but it would be a behoove you to establish our presence in the seas. You are very close to this other colony, perhaps disturbingly close. If they were to establish a port near the mouth they came in on, it could one day cut into future profits. The most logical thing you should do is claim the adjacent seas. You'll not want to share this with the Old Arx colony. All the sea routes that lead to Fairport, should be owned by Fairport. Surely, you can find some resource on the sea and establish a claim to it. If that doesn't work, there's always a shipping route that ships 'must' take, in order to claim those seas...
Regarding the second, it has come to our attention that a certain item from the New World has taken over the market here in Gault. A wine made from a fruit known only as the Blackwood Cherry. This wine has been rising in prices lately. We could make a king's ransom if we get our hands on it. I don't care if you have to make it on your own or work a deal with whomever that does, WE NEED THIS.
C. G. X. Jerrais
Honorable Pitchford Colonial Company
(written in invisible ink)
Your reports of the caves and treasures present an opportunity. While I understand your embargo on shipping those relics - speifically the gold statues - to Gault, the nobility and the king would sell their next of kin to possess such things. I hope you would be keen to send more than a few our way. You will be compensated.
Oh, Devoted Beatryx Mayble.
It has been one year since you and your people have established a presence in Peregrin Minor. It is reassuring that your people will not want for food in your presence. We've sampled the goods you've sent back to Gault - the centipede steaks, the various crops, the silken reams - all are fine, but frankly we are disappointed. I don't need to remind you that we had sent you off to find new weapons or things that will give us an advantage back on the Continent. We understand that you've found some remnant of a stronghold near your settlement, and it baffles us that you've not already emptied it for anything of use. There are ships in these reports. At least they could be of use, even if it's just for numbers.
We want more from the stronghold, and assurances that our requests for arms, armor, and warcraft are being taken seriously.
F.G.S.R.C. of G
To who speaks for Azathoth.
Your good work reaches our ears and we are pleased, as would Azathoth. But news of some of your findings disturb us. I think you know just what we're referring to.
If His Holy Word is to prosper in Peregrin Minor, this Den of Villany must be destroyed, wiped from the face of the earth. It cannot do for our people to travel here in Pilgrimage only to be met by Unholy Beasts. I reiterate, we cannot suffer such a place and beast to exist as a threat to our pious colony.
Earl of Wesselton
To Clare Wright, our Divine Hand in the New World.
News has reached us of Peregrin Minor; its wonders and its horrors. Much of your orders and mandate remain the same - spread God's will to the New World, smite the dangerous and unholy, protect our people from the dangers this land present. To that end, a trusted servant will arrive on Peregrin Minor to further our ends. He shall aid you if you call upon him, and I hope that you shall do the same for him. For now, the black tower demands our presence. For God's dominion in this land, you must take this tower and make it a beacon for the faithful. The people of Gault and the Continent must know that this is God's land.
Half of Gault is furious with you. The other half wish you were never sent off. So, naturally you've exceeded their expectations.
The average man is calling you a hero, and that battle with the Feial have made you and Rotham a darling conversation piece in Court.
Dark timings have reached us, it seems. The King's Inner Circle is abuzz with rumors of Pyrentine activity in Peregrin Minor. The most popular one is how ships are sailing there though where exactly escapes us. In case those rats do rear their verminous heads, I would like you to consolidate your hold around New Rotham, make it clear to Pyrenze that this land is Gault's, and more importantly, yours. Especially the coast on the other side of the mountains, so we can get the navy ready if necessary.
If Pyrenze is really on the continent, none will object to you handling things as you see fit.
P.S. The people are drowning themselves in that charming wine you're sending us. You're the talk of the taverns... Not that you weren't before.
To John Smith of Arcadia,
News of Arcadia's progress reaches Gault's ears. We are pleased with your findings, especially the ostrich mounts. Mark my words, we are going to build an ostrich cavalry, and we are ready to pay hand over fist for it. We've also heard about your pyramid, and we've heard another colony, Fairport, has also found burial sites stacked with gold. Please give this pyramid a thorough and complete going over. Whatever you find there could be tremendous for your colony.
I do have one request for you Mr. Smith. I have another trusted man who has established a colony of his own in the north, and it would benefit you to work with him. His name is Malcom Hawke - you might know him - and his colony is the Old Arx. The first thing you can do to enable this partnership is to build a road connecting the two colonies. I look forward to your continued successes.
Duke Arthur FitzRoy of Brightwell.
To Malcom Hawke of the Old Arx,
News of the Old Arx have reached my ears, and while I balk at where you've built it the people of Gault sing praises of your accomplishment. The poor are peddling penny dreadful books portraying your grand adventures in Peregrin Minor. It's great for publicity, and it is publicity that I write this request: I want to tour and exhibit one of those monsters you've written about to impress and astonish. I refer to the one-eyed shadow your notes depict - please send one of those creatures alive, send a breeding pair and I'll pay double.
Also news have reached me that you are close colony I sponsor. It's called Arcadia, and it's run by the academic John Smith. I would like the two of you to cooperate, to ensure you're at the forefront to this rapidly evolving world. We shall be stronger in pairs. Constructing a road to the south where Arcadia lies would be in your best interest.
Duke Arthur FitzRoy of Brightwell
|# ? Jun 18, 2017 03:30|
In this season it will be one year since that fateful voyage to Peregrin Minor. People are itching to see this coming year in celebration, to overcoming the challenges of settling a brave new world and molding the land in their own image. It falls on to you how to celebrate this occasion, and what way you want your legacy and work to be remembered.
On the morning of the first day of the new year all of your colonies hear a loud grumbling of the earth. It starts with no warning, lasting scarely more than a minute before ending with identical abruptness. The noise is somewhere between a groan and a cackle, as performed by hardened earth under intense pressure. Those of you who are aware of the existence of a “Black Tower” are aware that the noise emanated from that ruin. Those who are not aware of a “Black Tower” are still aware of the direction the noise came from.
Ships sail into ports and docks in the New World, bringing messages of Correspondence, goods, wealth, and a curious paperback novel that the sailors are reading when they’re not on deck.
PERILOUS PEREGIN MINOR!!
27 Maps and Codices Compiled in
ONE STUNNING COMPENDIUM!!
At the Behest of the Acclaimed
Lord Ansel Irving.
It is tripe, primarily. Largely composed from rumor and the pieces of your individual reports that your benefactors chose to share. But, clearly it represents the common man’s understanding of the new world. And to its credit there are some useful portions. A map of the continent, for example. And lengthy volumes about every colony, including a chapter of propaganda extolling the virtues of every founder. It lists resource availability, and climate, and describes each colony as it’s own enterprising little paradise. With the exception of the Feial who have a short, scathing chapter attached as an addendum to the New Rotham Journals.
(All of the founders are now known to each other by reputation at least. Knowing the location of another colony does not mean you have made contact with that colony. You know now the basic form of your continent. The book does not cover relic sites, factories or very dangerous locations. The only exception to this is Old Arx, even the Black tower is conveniently excluded from the Irving’s Stunning Compendium. The Feial have not received this book from their benefactor.)
Population: 450 last year. 100 Feial lost in the Battle of the Cattle. 350 Feial arrive from Gault, having landed on your shores as fugitives and refugees. Total = 700
Hunger: Well Fed.
Diet: The introduction of wild cattle to the mountains, a side Effect of barters and gifts exchanged with Andrew Blackwood, has overseen a huge decline in Feial hunger. The cows are large enough to sustain many tents for many nights and the Feial seem to enjoy this meat, often seared but never fully cooked.
Safety: Unsafe. The mountains are, by their very nature, unsafe. Your people survive and flourish, but you can expect to receive very few visitors.
Wealth: Moderate Wealth. Some introductory salt-trading with the New Rotham colony has replenished the Feial stock. Moreover, it seems that work looms over the horizon for the clans, already contracted to search for the Pyrenze, and soon more contracts would be flowing in. The Feial are in good spirits and scry good omens.
Results: The easternmost scouts finished much earlier than the others, coming back to report thick colorful jungles, and a massive black tower to their right and the end of the eastern lake. The tower though was the bigger find; islands circled around it like it was something to block access to, and in the night the sky and seas started to take on a pinkish tint, like an unseen light was radiating onto everything it touches. The scouts report no supernatural dangers, but it seemed like an ill omen. The remaining scouts report the land widens as they followed the mountains north. The two that went north on the eastern side similarly report large jungles, but with hostile creatures; snakes, a leopard, and log creatures that struck like lightning. The riders on the west side found a more arid grasslands, hot, humid from the coast, and with few trees that sprout fruit that may as well be a cannon shot with how hard their surface was. The coasts though had plenty of dips, where salt from the sea were building after the water receded. Further ahead lied a small lake but over the distance your scouts could make out some smoke.
Plot: Your benefactor considers your actions a declaration of war. By destroying your charter and subsequently raiding another fully sanctioned colonial power you have lost all right and authority granted by your charter and are no longer authorized to occupy the New World. The King means to apprehend you.
In dead of night your camp is visited by a band of many warriors. By the goddesses, they are Feial! They are the Feial you left behind! Your sisters recount terrible stories of the Shalkik, raids had grown only more severe and the Feial were fewer now. A meeting was called between the Great Mothers of the remaining clans and it was decided that the future of all Feial lay in the new world. Not some. But all. So they gathered their belongings and made for the coast, commandeering four vessels and embarking on a voyage to rediscover Clan Alkasaki and their lost sisters. They are only 300 warriors, attended by 50 men, but this is still a substantial boon to the Peregrin Feial. The next several days are marked by feasts and celebration.
Your scouts in the far north have sighted a peak of incredible size and glory. It is larger than any mountain the Feial have seen or heard rumor of, a wonder of the world. If your new home range were the Elder Sister of the Shalkik, this peak was the Great Mother of Many Clans. It dominates the horizon several weeks to the north of your home range along the spine of the continent, following the mountains. The leaders of your clans agree that it’s appearance marks good omens.
A year after incorporating eye fruit into your people’s diet you can confirm that it is habit forming. Going without their morning tea causes your warriors to grow drowsy and irritable. Stranger still some of your warriors have begun to lose color in their hair, only in well defined stripes and patches which adopt a shimmering silver-white hue. This affliction can be directly traced to diet, those who consume more eye fruit are exponentially more likely to develop this silver-white hair discoloration than those who consume eye fruit in moderation. They do not seem unhealthy or aged however. They appear for all the world like regular, well caffeinated, Feial - sporting erratically bleached hair.
Population: 500 last year. Your benefactor sends you another 500. Total = 1000
Hunger: Well Fed
Diet: Your citizens diet is much the same as was the year before. Some new citrus fruits have been identified. Some new species of fish had been discovered. Overall however, your colony’s diet changes very little
Safety: Safe. Your colony is faced with very little in the way of natural dangers. Some strange goings on in cavern tombs aside, there is very little that threatens the security of your colony or colonists.
Wealth: Very Wealthy. Interest in your relics continues to peak in Gault and you have now identified reliable jewel deposits.
Results: An acre of trees were cleared for the undertakings you had for Fairport, but they would be finished; a fortified dock, arsenal, ships, and lodgings were finished by the end of the season. Farmlands were established, but weren’t touched beyond construction.
The fishermen cut their teeth in the new seas and find moderate success. There were a few whaling ventures though the enthusiasm was met with fatigue; one whaling vessel caught only one of the beasts, while others either had no such luck or had to abandon their ship due to the whale breaching the hull.
Other ventures proved similarly mixed. Sailing down the great river led to beasts that were nightmarish; crocodiles, and one-eyed tentacled creatures that moved like lightning across the treetops. The entire mood onboard was tense, worried that the Temerity wouldn’t survive, but survive it did. It made contact with the Old Arx, run by one Malcom Hawke; the captain made sure to keep a note of that. Further down the river led to the edges of another colony; by the looks of the people they’re all botanists and gardeners, they say they work for Beatryx Mayble. The river goes even further south to a third colony on the east belonging to the church. All three colonies and routes were written down. Those locations would need some docks and facilities to make them into trading posts.
Plot: Your benefactor has cautioned against the danger of another port city forming on the mouth of the river very adjacent to Fairport. They want you to ensure that Fairport controls the flow of trade in the north by making claims at sea that will complicate the functionality of a rival port.
Your benefactors wish for you to find some way to include Fairport in the lucrative Blackwood Cherry market.
You have discovered the real land bridge connecting Peregrin Minor with Peregrin Major. It is not as close as you’d thought. The land sweeping north and west of you, peaked by a mountain on the far horizon, reveals itself to be only a Northern Horn of the continent. Once past the mountain the coast makes for the south again before curving into an arid, black grassland that travels north to meet the continent’s larger neighbor. The land itself is flat, the soil fine and charcoal black, spotted by little patches of lush green grass tall as a man sometimes. It is hot but a coastal breeze flowing from two oceans keeps the climate bearable.
You have a shockingly lucid and disturbing nightmare, the details of which stay vivid in your mind as this six month season progresses. You think often of a name spoken in the dream. Kaneokala.
Population: 500 last year. Your benefactor sends you another 500 Colonists. Total = 1000
Hunger: No Hunger
Diet: You have added a very reliable source of animal nutriton to your colonist’s diet in the form of centipede steak. This meat is soft and sweet, like crab meat, but dense and appropriately meaty to be sliced into steaks and fired on a grill. These centipede steaks are now commonly served with many meals in your colony. The centipedes themselves are docile and make good farm animals.
Safety: Very Safe. Although a strange malady has begun to afflict your citizens. It is so far believed to be contained and consequently your relative perceived safety has not changed in the eyes of Gault has not changed. But you have concerns about this strange illness.
Wealth: Moderate Wealth. The exportation of silk has brought the total living standard of your community up substantially. It could be raised even higher if you procured a way to dye the silk, however. Meanwhile the discovery of gold in your harbor, difficult as the site will be to mine, has already produced successful gold panners, another burgeoning source of income for your colony.
Results: Your efforts domesticating the bugs have born some fruit; centipede 'steaks' have been included in the colonists' diet - though they are unnerved by the cuts' twitching - and they've been making use of the silk, knitting it into bolts and sheets for more productive use and for trade. Both these things contribute to the day to day work, including the completion of the gathering hall and barracks.
The guards have made regular vigils on the castle for anything dangerous emerging from it. Teams were also sent in to find Sister Ivy where the team last saw her. They found her in worse shape than Brother Baldrick; while he had been paralyzed, the teams report her being stone stiff, though barely alive - her eyes were moving and it seemed she was aware of her surroundings. Teams also found out after a certain amount of time the needle-nosed bugs would be roused and attack any intruder; unfortunately some could not escape without a few bites. This necessitated switching teams, so the ones who were bitten could heal up; they weren't in as bad a shape as Baldrick and Ivy, so their recovery would be faster. Fortunately these tactics worked and little by little teams moved Ivy all the way to the exit and took her back to camp for care.
She can drink water and eat soft foods now, but recovery seems to be a slow road for Sister Ivy. She still complains of her limbs feeling heavy. Brother Baldrick meanwhile has made a full recovery over time; if there are lingering damages he suffered from the needle-noses, it may just be psychological.
Your chemists have isolated two potentially weaponizable compounds. One is derived from a scratchy moss native to the high canopy of the forest. It can be refined for it’s oil, which is highly flammable - more so than any modern ignition method. In addition to this it promotes and slow and hot burn for very reliable fires. The other oil was derived from the trunks of the fallen trees in your area. It appears to attract the sting bugs which call the trees home, every tree has a slightly different pheromone signature, to attract its own individual colony. You suspect the individualization of this oil is a result of interaction with the sting bugs. If you could find a tree of this species that was still in it’s infancy you may be able to refine an oil that would attract all sting bugs in the area. You may even be able to refine oils that would attract sting bugs with specialized purposes or that have been trained or bred to share common traits. The limits of this oil’s utility are currently unknown, further study will hinge on finding an infant sting tree.
Plot: Your benefactor is anxious to begin receiving weapons and munitions from your settlement.
Your benefactor has requested that you send another expedition into the castle-like structure near your territory, specifically to look for old weapons or potentially weaponizable material. They also request that you claim the ancient ships docked in the adjacent harbor and make them available for your benefactors use and study.
Your colony has struck gold! Curiously, it has done so at sea. The bay to which you capitol is adjacent seems to have rich gold deposits along its sea floor and climbing both coasts. The placement of this resource will make it difficult to mine on a large scale. However many of your colonists have already picked up the habit of panning along the beach in their off-hours. And a remarkable number of them are very successful. Gold acquired in this fashion is smaller and less desirable than larger nuggets, however assembled in bulk it is still worth it’s weight. Your colony’s wealth increases.
A strange illness is affecting some of your populations. It is characterized by shakes, sweats and a pink hue developing in the whites of victim’s eyes. This phase of the illness lasts several weeks before incubating into something fiercer. Victims in the second phase of the disease complain of insomnia, muscles pain and spasms. In this phase they will also begin to run a low but constant fever. No one has died from it yet and it does not appear to be spreading, but your doctors fear the disease is still incubating and may develop into a phase where it is quite contagious. Something will need to be done to secure to health and safety of your colonists.
Population: 500 last year. Your benefactor sends you another 500. Total = 1000
Hunger: No Hunger
Diet: With the incorporation of some specialists into your colony, your people now have regular access to bread, beer, milled oats and flour - which has expanded your citizens already healthy diet exponentially. Rolls are now commonly served with meals. And a number of fine bakeries are beginning to sprout up in Arkham.
Safety: Very safe. There are some rumors of the one eyed squids to your north but, as dangers loom around you your militia grows to match. Your soldiers are becoming more sophisticated and the general safety of your colonists is well attended to.
Wealth: Moderate. Your coal mine is running smoothly and your farms are still the envy of Peregrin. It is a comfortable living, but not a lavish one.
Results: Slowly but surely things get built, more people come to the New World, and life in Arkham settles into its own rhythm. To eat homemade bread and drink simple brews like back in Gault was something of a luxury after being left in this new world, full of opportunity as it is. It made for needing to defend themselves an acceptable price, as dangerous the threats are. People were volunteering for guard duty and patrols, and progress was being made in turning these volunteers into something that could take on the beasts that plague Arkham and the rest of Peregrin Minor. Your benefactor provides you with the specialists and specialty equipment you requested, before long you have successful milling and brewing operations throughout much of your colony.
Plot: Your benefactor is very pleased with your colony. He expresses anxiety however concerning the proximity of this “Factory”, and the beasts which seem to inhabit it. He has concluded the site will present a clear and present danger to pilgrims for as long as this factory is permitted to exist. He has asked you to destroy it.
The beasts from the factory can now be seen darting between the ponds in the wildlands north of Arkham. They are moving south, growing bolder. There is still a fair expanse between your capital and these beasts but, this migration can not be ignored. Certainly not for long.
A year into the domestication of your native dogs, they are as well behaved as any Gaultese Breed. They live in your people’s homes, trusted and loyal servants of the family. They are good with children and fierce towards game, excellent tracking dogs capable of learning keen discipline and complicated tasks. You trust them completely. But they do have some oddities. Sometime the dogs have been known to hunt and track prey, that does not exist. They will sometimes bark out of the windows of your homes in territorial displays against threats that do not exist. They have been known to assemble in packs and circle large game that does not exist. Other times they just stare off into the distance, seemingly lost in wonders you can not see.. Despite their idiosyncrasies, the dogs are loyal and dependable.
Your coal mining operation has discovered evidence of prior excavation. In the course of carving mining tunnels you have found older, abandoned tunnels running through the mountain side. They are functionally carved and unadorned, leading through strange curves and odd sharp corners. No attempt has been made yet to follow these tunnels to their source. But there is no reason a person could not.
Population: 500 last year. Your benefactor sends another 500. Total = 1000
Hunger: Well Fed.
Diet: Boar meat is still the staple of your colonists diet, though snake and komodo are now occasionally available for adventurous eaters. The inclusion of Komodo in particular, (a moist but flavorless meat) has spurred a radical culinary innovation in your Colony. Chutneys, jams and jellies are now regularly served with steak, or as a side dish to a plate. They are sweet and hearty, made from the apples and plums and peaches which grow in the trees beside your settlement.
Safety: Safe. The construction of strong city walls, a palisade and a barracks has shielded your colony from the vast dangers present outside the wall. No longer do your citizens worry about dire boars barging through the city streets or komodo dragons slithering into storehouses. Your colony can breathe easily, and rest much safer.
Wealth: Moderate. With all of the ingredients for gunpowder discovered on the island nearest your colony, the potential for an economic upswing is very strong. But so far the process of refining the ingredients into highly exportable gunpowder has not been attempted.
Results: The brave boars were herded off from the rest, and the process of breaking them for mounts goes slowly but finely. Housing them however proves to be difficult as the fencing needed to be sturdy enough to withstand their strength. For now, keeping long metal spikes on the inside discouraged the boars from charging at the fences. They seem to eat whatever you throw at them, but always seem hungry. They do plenty of leather though, though the skinning process is long due to their size.
Construction on the wall is finally finished after so much work and resources thrown at it. It made people who were weary about living in Hellsgate feel safer; some have even volunteered to train for a militia. Just as well as the squires' training has went along with little difficulty, gradually being familiar with their surroundings before they took up arms. There was a fighting spirit now; they great had confidence.
Plot: Your benefactor has requested that you claim the “Black Tower” near your settlement and refurbish the place to serve as a House of God, a mecca in the new world. Whether it resembles a monastery or a holy site, it must serve as a reminder of God’s power in the new world and be safe for pilgrims.
You have discovered all the ingredients for gunpowder on the island forming the northern barrier around the Black Tower. Magnesium, phosphorus, sulphur, flint, it’s all available in the same chalky silt of this island. It’s proximity and chemical bounty should make it a high priority for your nation to begin making full use of.
A message was addressed to you bearing a sigil of the Church. It was a summons from Inquisitor-General Whiterose of the Quorum. Included with the summons is a chart of Peregrin Minor, complete with a red cross on one of its inland isles. It would appear this Inquisitor may be the assistance your benefactors have mentioned...
Since the initial encounter, those creatures have been migrating north. A few stragglers linger where they last were, but a couple shots force them along. They don’t even appear to summon any of their kin like they did in the previous encounter. Whatever had happened, you’ve apparently spooked them off. To where though, your scouts are unsure.
Sir Andrew Blackwood:
Population: 500 last year. Added 50 soldiers by adopting Admiral Odde. Lost 50 soldiers when Admiral Odde deserted. Lost 100 colonists in the Battle of the Cattle. Your benefactor sends you another 500 colonists. Total = 900
Hunger: Well Fed.
Diet: Your food provisions are much the same as when you landed, but fine wine has been added to the list of things now regularly available to your citizens. The tavern in New Rotham is full almost every night.
Safety: Safe. Your settlement has already survived a major battle, your citizens feel confident the greatest dangers have passed.
Wealth: Wealthy. You have begun saving money and lumber resources by … “repurposing” the “excrement” from your cattle into … “coals” … essentially. It keeps the fires burning and there’s a lot of it for free so, why let a resource go to waste?
Results: Despite the fact that a battle had taken place not long ago, it did little to stop people from building on the foundations of New Rotham. Repairs were made and the new chapel and winery were built. The vintners and newly ordained clergymen bicker from time to time but they understand that they’re in this together now. In a display of mutual cooperation, the priests volunteer to plant and harvest the grapes in exchange for a small share for Communion. The idea hasn’t been fully fleshed out between the two groups yet, but it’s better than the alternative.
Little by little the Jackal-Rabbits nibble and nibble away at the leftover meat you leave behind. Some grab pieces of meat and scamper off with it, but many started to camp out where your men have been depositing your leftovers. The last trapper managed to flee with his life along with quite the scare. New plans were made to keep the piles random for your hunters’ protection, sometimes leaving little trails for them to follow. Still the plan is taking off, and the number of Jackal-Rabbits have been rising. But with their increased numbers they’ve been getting braver, more impulsive, attacking travellers who are outside of New Rotham.
Your scouts in the south map and explore the jade crab encampment. It is walled but if there was ever a ceiling it has long since crumbled. The many crabs are stacked on each other in a way that suggests storage more than decoration. There are three basic sizes of crab. The first is the size of a palm and could be mistaken for jewelry. The next are the size of toddler and are almost always carrying weapons, spears and hammers decoratively carved in jade. The largest are slightly larger than a man, claws barbed and gruesome. They remind you of weapons themselves, carved from huge pieces of jade jointed together beneath impenetrable carapaces. The south east corner of the complex has been bitten into by the river. The wall is crumbling and some of the smaller crabs can be found dispersed upstream in the river.
Plot: Your benefactor wants you to establish a claim on the west coast and investigate rumors of Pyrenze settlements. They have authorized you to handle an encounter in any way you deem necessary but would prefer a neat and diplomatic resolution if one is available.
A year after incorporating eye fruit into your people’s diet you can confirm that it is habit forming. Going without their morning tea causes your citizens to grow drowsy and irritable. Stranger still some of your people have begun to lose color in their hair, only in well defined stripes and patches which adopt a shimmering silver-white hue. This affliction can be directly traced to diet, those who consume more eye fruit are exponentially more likely to develop this silver-white hair discoloration than those who consume eye fruit in moderation. They do not seem unhealthy or aged however. They appear for all the world like regular, well caffeinated, colonists - sporting erratically bleached hair.
A strange side-effect in the people who have been drinking the Cherry-wine heavily after the first year report occasional bouts of extreme light sensitivity. The worst of those cases couldn’t even leave their houses, needing to conduct their affairs entirely indoors with curtains drawn operating solely by the glim of a lit candle in a separate room. Lesser cases involve the sun or a full moon being too bright for more than a minute, enough to harm the eyes and make a man collapse.
Your scouts report smoke trails and what appears to be mud hut villages in the southern tip. They could find no proof or heraldry of anything from Gault, Pyrenze, nor the rest of the Continent. That said, the scouts could not find anything resembling a native. After a year of settling the land, it looks like you and the rest of Gault for that matter may not be fully alone…
Admiral Odd appears to have taken his ships and left for parts unknown. He took his men, his fifty ships, and enough supplies to make a mildly comfortable living. Your men try to chase him down east, but were repulsed in a skirmish with the Admiral.
Population: 500 last year. Your benefactor sends you another 500. Total - 1000
Hunger: No Hunger
Diet: You are successful in growing a species of beet rich in natural sugars. From these you can make candies and various desserts, such as pies and puddings. You have also begun the brewing of ale from Haents root which produces a peppery autumnal ale with exceptional crispness.
Safety: Safe. Arcadians fear very few natural dangers, and what does count for danger is mitigated well by the presence of a full regiment of Ostrich Riders. They were good at keeping the peace. Some rumors persist of a mummy trapsing through your settlement, but those are only fairytales. Surely.
Wealth: Moderate Wealth. Your Dire Ostriches have caught on like wildfire in Gault, there is discussion - speared forward by your benefactor - of creating a whole division of the Gaultese Cavalry to serve on the backs of these Ostriches. The military wants them, the nobility wants them, transportation magnates want them, private militias want them. It’s an astounding market. But truthfully, you aren’t able to produce the supply to match demand. Many of the next four broodings have already been claimed and additional requests and offers fly in daily.
Results: The ostrich breeding program has led to successes. The broods that the Dire Ostrich sired have led to chicks that have grown up to be much larger than the standard ostrich, easily big enough for riding. The Dire Ostrich itself has been rambunctious but with carrot, stick, and a little cunning, the beast has warmed up to your ranchers. It gets testy when it sees another bull ostrich, but that's the only trouble there has been. Breeding efforts for the pygmies and game ostriches have similarly gone well; the former were especially quick to train.
Cultivation efforts have isolated a couple hybrid crops for survivability though the crop yield is slightly smaller - yams, carrots, leafy vegetables, cereal grains, and of course the sugar beets and the new Haent's root. The first crop yield have been harvested, and though both appear to be lacking water, the nutrition and contents of those two items are there.
The new outpost has been assembled without a hitch, and a good thing too as the new vigil had given Arcadia an unbridled view of ships sailing to and fro. They bring messages of ships that weren't trade vessels sailing further north.
Your efforts to produce a engine powered by steam is progressing steadily. Your prototypes (three functional ones at the moment) are between 1/15th scale and 1/3rd scale. The design is similar to a waterwheel and initial testing suggest that, at full scale, it could propel a boat at sea. The technology is viable.
Construction of a drydock is now complete in Arcadia. You have not begun the construction of additional vessels, but looking out at Arcadia’s new naval infrastructure emboldens you that soon your navy will be the admiration of all Peregrin. Your drydocks is modern, efficient, and sturdily built. In addition to that, your water tunnel is undergoing initial testing. A couple small models of well used vessels with well understood operational tolerances have been built and tested. The models seem to operate as accurate representations of their full scale counterparts. Some of your scientists have suggested adjusting the water tunnel to model full naval encounters between many ships. With some time it would be possible to make such upgrades
Plot: Your benefactor wishes for you to establish a road, caravan, or some other means of tangible contact with the colony of Old Arx. Arthur Fitzroy is the benefactor for both of your colonies and he wishes for you two to cooperate to establish an even stronger presence in the New World.
Your benefactor has heard rumors of the very valuable statues being exported from the Fairport Colony, sourced from their burial chambers. And his interest is peaked regarding the pyramid in your own territory. He wants you to investigate the pyramid, it’s surrounding territory, and the mountains of the area very carefully looking for any burial statues or ceremonial relics of your own. He will pay handsomely for anything you discover.
3) Gault is in need of enough of your ostriches to make an army, but the fact is that your brood and breeding efforts simply do not make close to enough to meet your benefactor’s demands, in spite of taming the Dire ostrich and breeding him with your hens. That said, results have borne fruit; the brood from those with the Dire ostrich have led to children while not as large as the Dire one, much larger than the normal bulls and hens.
4) Your scouts have followed the coal deposit further up the side of the mountain and made to astonishing discoveries. Firstly, the site of another colony’s mining operation. Humble but respectable, well cared for and visibly occupied by miners. The active mining makes it impossible for your scouts to travel further north without discovery, however they can see quite clearly a strange … cathedral? The top seemed to be constructed from glass, with many semi spherical domes. The architecture was foreign and perplexing, but it seemed to be in good condition. However, while returning from the north your scouts also claim to have encountered … A Mummy. For lack of a better word. These are not the only rumors you’ve heard from reliable men about this creature. And if it does it exist, it can be concluded that the creature is moving north.
Population: 600 last year. Your benefactor sends you another 600 colonists.Total = 1200
Hunger: Well Fed
Diet: The inclusion of Fitzroy Squash into your citizens diet has radically reduced hunger in the Old Arx. The mushroom is large, it grows quickly, it contains many nutrients, and the meat tastes very similar to cow rib. So, the new produce has become quite popular with your colony where it is served all ways easy to imagine - fried, grilled, baked, dried, spit fired.
Wealth: Moderate. You have added worked metal to the list of exportables from Old Arx. But as so much construction is still underway, much of your forge’s product is being kept and used by the colony, and not traded to the old world.
Results: The Crocodile farm was difficult to maintain; trapping those things was a monumental task requiring the creature's mouth to be bound and the rest of it pinned down till it gave up. Still your best men managed to capture a few - injuries notwithstanding - and have made sure the paddock they were put in had no way to escape. Their skin is rough but distinctive like armor, and its flesh springy and a fishy flavor; their eggs are tiny, barely larger than a chicken's egg, and the time between them being fertile or not too small, though the females lay plenty of them.
The way south yields as many trees as it did north, though they do lessen into a grassland with enough distance. The mountains gradually cover the western sky, and if the new map of Peregrin Minor is to be believed, following the mountains south would lead directly to the colony of Arcadia. The challenge would be clearing a road through the jungle; the rest would be easier.
Your steam cannon has been constructed as a smaller scale prototype. The cannon, if built in full scale and properly, could be used to provide plentiful energy to Old Arx. The technology is viable, your model has proven that.
Gatherers have noticed a sticky residue on the poppies as they harvested a few back home. They appear to be dripping some white fluid from where the men cut, and that fluid slowly coagulated into a stiff feeling wax. Some men smelled these poppies and among those few became euphoric and drowsy after smelling them for too long.
(Meanwhile there were a multitude of fruits or fruit-like objects in that biome; some were obvious like berries of a pinkish hue, others however were just plain alien. There was a fruit covered in spines that hurt, one that was long and shaped like a phallus, a pod that yielded fleshy seeds, a green pear wrapped in a crocodile skin, some dried brown husk that yielded shriveled-up berries. There were far more, but the gatherers didn't want to take their chances and took whatever they could get. The one problem with that biome was for all the many fruits it offered, there was little of each.)
Your farmers could turn up no seeds, but they did find a curiosity underground. in certain spots there were these squash-like growths, large and striped deep green with a paler green. One of your men dug it up completely from the ground, and found it to taste meaty, like beef. Curiously, the one who dug up the FitzRoy Squash - as he called it - noticed a few weeks later another squash was forming where he last dug it; he thought to bury it and wait a while to see if it would grow back, and it did, though nowhere near as big as the one he harvested. When word got out, diggers started digging around the area where the FitzRoy squash was located and found similar growths not far from where the first one was. Signs were put up to designate where they were and when they were harvested.
Plot: Your benefactor wishes for you to establish a road, trade route, or otherwise diplomatic contact with the colony of Arcadia. Arthur FitzRoy is the benefactor for both your colonies and he desires the two of you to work together to establish a stronger presence in the New World.
As it stands, your benefactor is as enthusiastic as you are for hunting down those tentacled monsters, though he wants at least one alive and shipped back to Gault for publicity. He similarly expressed a breeding pair to be sent to him with the promise of a huge reward for doing so.
Exploring the lakes have yielded similar structures to the Old Arx, though they are in worse shape; if nothing else the Old Arx seems to be the most intact of the remnants you’ve found thus far. One of your tinkerers thinks it would be a grand idea to rebuild everything around the area, and incorporate it with the Old Arx, though the undertaking itself would take years.
Harvesters report of their FitzRoy squashes being devoured before harvest; some a good three quarters chomped off by some… kind of creature. Can’t be any of those one-eyes; neither you nor the trackers have seen anything that suggested those things can burrow. Possibly some other creature you haven’t seen before. Hunters don’t yet seem to have a clue to address this subterranean freeloader....
KhediveRex fucked around with this message at Jul 5, 2017 around 22:45
|# ? Jun 18, 2017 21:28|
Hakonia walks alongside the The Rotham Road, (Actually a river, stagnant names make no sense, she thinks to herself). The rushing water drowns out the sound in her head, mostly. She looks to her right and sees her people's encampment, grown sloppy and haphazard. Clan Sarkaski merchant tents covered in bright, friendly murals of woad and goat's blood set against the ash soaked visions of monsters and disaster on Clan Skula's tents. A Nikkilä party moves on the edge of her vision, gathering eye-fruit and vines. To her left, she sees New Rotham and it's fishing ships on the horizon. The town she'd tried to raid a scant few months earlier, now Kivinen women chatter idly as they fish along it's riverbank. They wave when they notice Hakonia, but thankfully keep their distance. Hakonia bends down and picks out a good rock, nice and smooth.
It's a new world of old problems. She thinks to herself as she throws it down the river. Her people are at war with the crown, yet in a truce with it's colonies. Even stranger, they are under contract to those colonies to scout their enemies out. They were in a new land, a free people, and already entangled in stagnant politics again. There is so much to explore! So many strange wonders! And here she is, walking along a misnamed river, throwing rocks. Even worse, tomorrow she had to attend some "Great Conclave" with Mothers Rehn and Sarkaski and listen to men babble for hours. The only highlights she could think of would be free-flowing alcohol, and Andrew's wit.
She wishes she could follow Clan Rehn on their great adventure after this "Conclave" was over. But, she has a duty - At least tomorrow. Tonight she would drink herself sick with Andrew and probably listen to another one of his stories.
No Actions (For Now)
The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at Jun 19, 2017 around 09:39
|# ? Jun 19, 2017 09:06|
Sir Andrew Gene Blackwood
“...Yeeees… That’s called being Hung Over.” Andrew tried to explain to Madamn Penwood for the third time in a row. Light sensitively, feinting, pretending to do work but not actually doing any. “Sounds like they’re having a good time. Too good of a time.”
“Sir Blackwood I really don’t think this is a matter of jest.”
“Well what is it a matter of? They’re drinking to much and having one on. End of story. We’ll set a limit on how much alcohol can be consumed in a day myself excluded. I shan’t let a bunch of lightweights ruin my good time. Or something else. I don’t know, I’ll think about it! If t is serious I'll figure it out. In the mean time I have a party to plan. Find the Great Mother and make sure she doesn’t break anybody's arm on the way over, please.” Firmly dismissed for the time being, Rose set’s off to find the Great Mother. Encamped right across the river, there was really no way to avoid her invitation as much as she seemed to try.
“By the Shepards sacred crook this is going to be foul. No ballroom, hardly any servants of good breeding. Stuck under this!” He nearly shouts in exasperation, directed at the hand stitched leather pavilion that was being erected to house the dignitaries. The only thing this party had going for it was the alcohol. Andrew had acquired a taste for his own creation but that didn’t stop him from enjoying all forms of the Devils Honey. Every spare crop that could be saved from the burning and wasn’t being used to feed someone had been brewed and fermented awaiting this moment. A dizzying array of choice was on offer, some not even having a name, labelled only by what went in it and when.
“Hmm; Beet, cabbage and long grass. Aged two months. Delightful.” Wandering around the
Andrew will of course be attending his own Conclave.
No actions yet.
|# ? Jun 19, 2017 11:20|
Devotee Beatryx Mayble
We had yet to even see anyone else on this island, but the messenger still found us - perhaps he saw the ships. The guards had many questions - where are the other Gaultese, do they wish to establish trade, so on - but he insisted he could not stay for longer. I am eager to learn more about our cohabitants - and maybe find some answers.
Beatryx Mayble will attend the Conclave. No actions yet.
|# ? Jun 19, 2017 17:34|
Mortimer C. Snodgrass
Governor’s Diary of Mortimer Snodgrass posted:
February 1. Letter came in from the mother company today. Of course all it had in it was complaints. I have said it a thousand times if once, these imbeciles do not understand the role of positive reinforcement at any level of a company.
The new naval station was fresh enough that the stain on the boards was still bright, and all around it you could hear the riotous noise of the jungle. With no Royal Navy ships to serve, it sat empty and tidy, kept from being retaken by the jungle only by the efforts of a few docents and the less fortunate soldiers from the nearby barracks.
Which made it about the only dock in Fairport with any sort of privacy, suitable for the current mission of the Enterprise. Mortimer Snodgrass stood on the dock and grimaced openly, as the crew of the stout caravel hauled up a carcass from the ship’s hold on a winch.
By all appearances save two, it was a whale: small, but with light gray skin and all the recognizable shapes of the whales of the Iron Sea back home--the blunt head, the powerful tail, the beady eyes. The first difference, which Mortimer remembered seeing on the occasional whale in the northern ports, was a great tooth, which jutted out from its mouth in a spiralling shape.
The one he definitely did NOT remember were the arms.
Where every whale he’d ever seen had fins, presumably for steering, this one had… human arms. They were the size of a jib, to match the size of the beast, and their skin was the same shade as the rest of it, but their shape was unmistakably, undeniably human, ending in hands with fingers. The arms hung limp like that of a dead man’s as the whale was hauled out of the hold, and the crew were visibly uncomfortable, those not needed in the operation making every effort to be looking at absolutely anywhere else.
“Horrifying,” Mortimer said.
“Agreed,” came the response from next to him. Tall and dour, Captain Lanchester was not a man who scared easily; his expression was grimmer than usual. “They swim like men with those damned arms, but they also swim in pods and sing to each other, just as other whales do. Was a bit of work to prise this one away from the pod.” He gave a half-apologetic look. “They’re completely docile. I would have just left the damned things be, they unnerve the crew awfully, but I figured you would want to see one for yourself and make a judgment.”
“Nngh. Good thinking.” Mortimer nodded, slowly. “Talk to Owens, see if any of his crew have experience with whale processing. There might actually be some worth to these things, and if there’s not, I see no reason to disturb them.”
“Definitely not.” Lanchester looked back at the behemoth, which was being lowered to the dock. “We’ll store it in the munitions warehouse for now, keep it out of the way.”
Lanchester looked back at him. “Did you say something, sir?”
Mortimer gave him a wry grin. “Just remembered my Stanbridge education. Psarades, fish-men. Psaras in the singular. Call them that.” He waved a hand. “No sailor who hasn’t seen them will know what the hell it is, and it’s better than ‘horned specter’ or whatever they were being called before.”
“Psarades.” Lanchester chewed on the word for a moment, then nodded. “At once, sir.”
“Good man.” Mortimer looked over one last time at the psaras, as the crew hauled out a sail to cover it up. “And don’t have it cut up in the warehouse, Lanchester.” He turned away, grimacing. “Smell will never come out.”
I have ordered a moratorium on hunting these until we know more about them. I don’t expect anyone will complain. Publicly, I have declared them a resource under our jurisdiction and tasked Lanchester with charting their migration patterns. This could give us an excuse to claim control of the primary sea-lanes.
“Show ‘im, Symons, c’mon.”
The sailor nodded, grinning like an idiot, and then scrambled up the rigging. He was clearly a little slow, and out of practice, but inside of five minutes he had reached the top of the mast of the Temerity.
Mortimer watched him climb, speechless, before turning back to the ship’s physician. “Master Linden, two weeks ago you told me that man was dying of scurvy and would not last out the month. What exactly have you done?”
Linden smiled at him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a green-gold fruit that Mortimer instantly recognized. “Abou’ last T’ursday I started givin’ ‘im an’ the other scurvies pomelo juice, jus’ to give ‘em somethin’ sweet an’ pleasant in their final days. They started to improve almost instantly. And now…” He gestured up at Symons, who was waving wildly from the crow’s nest.
Mortimer looked up at him, waved back twice, and then looked back down at Linden. “Citrus cures scurvy.”
“Might prevent it, too, sir.” Linden scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m not entirely sure why, no-one quite knows what causes scurvy, but the effects speak for--”
Mortimer grabbed at the man, suddenly. “Linden, I could kiss you.” He dragged him into a one-armed embrace. “Scurvy has hobbled merchants and sailors for centuries! Limited time at sea, distance to be sailed! If we can hold it at bay with just a stock of citrus--”
Linden’s eyes suddenly widened, as the enormity hit him. “Sir… you’re talking about doubling the range of the navy.”
“Of the navy, of the merchant marine--we can give Gault an edge that Pyrenze can’t hope to match!” Mortimer spun the doctor back around, to face him. “Tell Captain Marcion I'm taking you off the Temerity. He can have any replacement he wants. I want you to run tests on this, make it presentable, provable, repeatable. If we can show this to the Navy, we can make this the most important outpost in the entire Gaultier Empire and I can make you a Royal Fellow.”
The surgeon boggled, saluted, and then scrambled onto the Temerity to find the captain. Mortimer stood there for a moment, lost in thought, and then snapped his fingers. “The Arkhamites.”
I immediately ordered a reorganization of the farms, with the help of that Arkhamite who had accompanied Captain Marcion back from his initial visit. I remain suspicious of his intentions, coming so willingly, but having him here now has to be some kind of sign.
Thomas was a solid, stocky man a good ten inches shorter than the merchant prince, but there was a powerful, placid confidence in his words as they walked among the wild citrus trees along the north shore. “We’ve identified four father species--citron, mandarin, pomelo, and papeda.”
“Sour, two sweet, and bitter,” Mortimer said, picking them out with his eyes in the hanging trees.
“Just so,” Thomas replied, “with pomelo more sour than mandarin. Every other fruit we’ve seen has been some hybrid of the two.”
Mortimer frowned, lightly. “I confess my family has been generations off the farm, but that means you can likely cross all four of them, correct?”
“Correct.” Thomas smiled, pointing up into the trees at one with large orange globes hanging from it. “Like the arance, there. That one is wild, mandarin and pomelo. With a little work we could produce a hybrid that would be larger, sweeter, and juicier.”
“Or one that would last longer on the sea, either as juice or fruit.”
“By God,” Mortimer whispered. “Well, let’s do it, then.” He nodded, waving a hand at the surrounding terrain to take in a big sweep of this land, north of the new naval station. “Take whoever you need from the farming details and get some orchards set up. I want to produce as much of this, and the best we can.”
Thomas smiled, half-bowing, making a curved hand-sign over his heart. “It would be my pleasure.”
Mortimer laughed, nervously. “And please avoid making that sign where the priests can see you, Thomas. If they think you’re trying to spread a heresy throughout my port, it’s going to be no end of trouble.”
The little man looked shocked for a moment, then straightened up and nodded. “Of course, sir.”
We should begin seeing results from that shortly. God willing, we may have struck on a true goldmine here.
Located on the third floor of the Governor’s Mansion, the long meeting room was becoming gradually more richly decorated as Fairport grew and matured. Not with the silks and tracery of the Old World, but with carvings, relics, charts, and at one end, flanking the great map of the continent, two twinned golden statues which had guarded a cave southwest of town.
That night, it held only four people. Captain Owens, Commander Griswold, Father Gilford, and Mortimer Snodgrass.
Mortimer was standing facing the map as the group filed in, and remained there as they seated themselves. “Gentlemen. I apologize for keeping you out this late.”
“Bloody considerate of you,” Owens replied, half-serious.
Mortimer turned around, sitting down at the table. “Owens, you are sitting at this table for two specific reasons, and neither are your mouth. Kindly control it.”
The captain recoiled. “I--” He snapped his mouth shut, looking extremely wary.
Mortimer nodded at him, then turned to the rest of the group. Stress was evident in his face. “I’ve called you here tonight because what I am planning to do would be considered by the more dogmatic wings of the nobility and Church as high treason.”
That got everyone’s attention. It was the Father who spoke first, slowly. “Nobility and Church both… means you are planning to deal with Pyrenze.”
Mortimer nodded solemnly. “I am.”
Griswold leaned in, his face hard, but said nothing. Gilford continued. “But us three being here--the three most loyal subjects of the King in the colony--means you either want to tar us as co-conspirators, or you believe we would consent to this for some other reason. Self-interest, perhaps.”
“You are far too cynical for a man of God, Father.” Mortimer grinned. It was as warm as the statues behind him. “And entirely correct.” He pulled two folded letters out of his coat--a page of Marcion’s coastal expedition report, and a short letter in his own hand. “As you all likely know, according to Lord Blackwood, the Feial have declared their charter null and void and themselves free of any Gaultier influence.” He grasped up the long pointer and tapped it to the map of the continent, dragging it up the spine. “They have taken up land… somewhere in here, in the Blackspine Mountains. Best guess, those mountains terminate…” he tapped again at the map. “Here.”
Griswold frowned, speaking for the first time. “That’s within our border with Old Arx, and a week’s ride from Fairport.”
“Through hideous jungle, but yes. You’ve hit on the point.” Mortimer turned back to the table. “They refused to sign off on borders surrounding the gulf, though they consented to a joint scouting expedition to figure out precises.” He holds up his right hand; there is a faint cut mark on it. “It was sealed in blood. They have also signed a peace treaty with all of the Gaultier colonies.” He leaned in. “Sheepspit. The Feial have already burned one treaty because it suited them, and they have a history of attacking whomever they please because of laws they refuse to explain. While I will attempt to keep the peace with words, I do not count on it at all.”
Griswold’s frown deepened. “The Feial can put almost as many troops into the line as we have colonists, sir. And their skill with their bows can match our muskets.”
“Indeed. But it gets worse.” Mortimer taps the map, on the other side of the spinal mountains. “According to the Feial, the Pyrenze have violated the greater charter and have landed some kind of settlement party… about here.”
That got everyone’s attention, though it was Gilford who spoke. “In defiance of the Continental Church. Astonishing.”
“Arrogant,” Owens offered, smirking coldly. “Though didn’t you just say you didn’t trust the Feial, sir?”
“drat right I don’t. But unless they’re better at bluffing than I am they seemed deadly serious about this. Lost one of their vaunted Scouting parties on it.” Mortimer sighed. “The Conclave intends to attempt diplomatically at first to find out what the hell they’re doing here. I also don’t really expect that one to work.” He shook his head. “The King of Pyrenze is either unaware or greatly detached from his troubles in Peregrin Major. I expect whether he’s sent this group down here or they’ve wandered down from one of the looser colonies, he’ll back them because he expects he can crush us.”
“He can,” Griswold said simply, his face grim.
“Which is why we are here tonight.” Mortimer produced the second letter. “Malcom Hawke is attempting to begin some thoroughly heretical processes over in Old Arx. Industrial processes, as Pyrenze has just begun. But he is still working with our level of technology.”
Owens’ face lit up, as the pieces fell into place, but he said nothing.
Mortimer leaned in. “We must accelerate our pace if we are to survive in the face of the Feial, the Pyrenze, and--” he thrust a finger at the floor of the room. “Whatever the devils are that live in those tombs. If we cannot field as many troops as the Feial, we must field better ones. And there is only one way to do that.”
Owens laughed. “You’re gonna steal the Pyrentines’ war-gear.”
Griswold and Gilford both looked over at him, startled, and then back at Mortimer. The man shook his head. “Not steal, Owens.” He grinned, and his eyes suddenly lit up with a furious gleam. “I am a merchantman. I trade.”
He tapped the table. “The Pyrentines have developed a rifle that can put twenty shots down-range in a minute.” He stared hard at Griswold. “Twenty shots a minute, Julius.”
The commander of the guard opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly imagining what a dozen guns of that sort could do to a raiding party. He finally nodded, simply.
Mortimer raised a hand, gesturing at the harbor beyond the great window. “This rifle is currently being distributed widely to their colonies in an attempt to reinforce the Colonial Army against the various rebellions and corruption they’re currently suffering. It is doing nothing of the sort. It is wasted on them.” He folded his hands again, under his chin. “One man’s trouble is another’s opportunity. Owens.” The captain started. “I called you here not because of your mouth, but because of your loyalty to Gault and your independent streak.”
The man raised a hand as if to protest, but it died in his throat.
Mortimer nodded to him. “You can make the pretense of operating independently from my command. Surely the rumor of our gold statues has drifted north at this point. I want you to find the most bloated, corrupt colonial governor you can with a taste for finery, and make noises about smuggling a statue to him for... well, I trust you can make something up.” He tapped the table. “When you find one, I’ll come join you, and together we’ll take him for all he’s worth.”
Owens nodded, suddenly intent. “Yes, sir.”
Mortimer smiled at him. “Owens, you’ve got talent and ambition on your side, and those will get you a long way in this line of work. You help me pull this off, and I’ll make you damned rich.”
The captain nodded, eagerly, and Mortimer turned to the others. “Griswold, we need to start preparations for building the fortifications you’ve planned. The time for planning those is over--anyone aiming to strike at our wealth is going to start doing so now. Adjust your plans to account for whatever guns and cannon we can get off Pyrenze’s rebels.”
The guard captain nodded, and Gilford, who had been quiet up to this point, spoke up. “And where does the Church fit into this plan, Governor?”
Mortimer sighed. “Father, I know this is a great thing to ask, but I need you to keep them off my back. I would not have brought you into this conspiracy if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary, but if the Church finds out I’m attempting to catapult us forward with Pyrentine technology, it won’t matter how far away we are from Gault, they’ll call for my head.”
“And justifiably.” Gilford’s face was hard. “Church doctrine proscribes against both treating with infidels and with incautious advances. ‘Let no man bring his tribe into danger by breaking from the whole.’”
There was an intense, tense moment, as the other three faces in the room stared at him. Then Gilford smiled, devilishly, an uncomfortable look on the face of a priest. “I’m sure you don’t need me quoting Remonstrations at you. For it is also said ‘In your time of darkest need, the Lord will provide, and all that is needed shall be given unto you.’”
There was a sigh of relief, and Gilford leaned into the table. “That was the heart of the Conclave of Redgrass Hill, which got us the crossbow. If the Council of Mieros wants to argue that staring down Feial and Pyrenze doesn’t qualify as time of darkest need then they can bloody well come here and tell them that. Myself, I intend to keep my flock alive. They do God’s work better that way.”
“It is immensely appreciated, Father.” Mortimer looked up and around the table, catching the eyes of every man seated there. “Then with your blessing, we can go about gaining an edge.”
LOG OF THE ACTIONS OF FAIRPORT COLONY, MONTH 12-18
BUILDING ACTIONS (Foreman G. Jones, Head Farmer T. Handlebury)
-Establishment of large-scale citrus orchards, for purposes of trade-scale production.
-Establishment of a horticultural “laboratory”, for crossbreeding and refining strains of citrus.
-Beginning construction of fortifications at marked points around the bay. Trade has been entered into with Blackwood’s New Rotham to provide stone for these; wood shall be provided in exchange, ⅔ wood ⅓ charcoal.
-Construction of two new caravels (need names). Expansion of the fishing fleet.
-Establishment of Giormello Plantation, courtesy foreign investors.
FLEET ACTIONS (Harbormaster R. Kingston)
-HGS Seagull to embark on “exploratory mission” north, along the Peregrin landbridge.
-HGS Meredith Snodgrass to engage in stone trade with New Rotham, available for misc. duties.
-HGS Temerity to chart probable outpost/settlement locations along the coast west of Clover Bay, especially in the great gulf.
-HGS Enterprise to chart migratory patterns of psarades for possible future use.
-HGS Freedom expected to return in six months, approximate.
-Fifteen "special lots" are to be transferred home on next cargo ship earmarked for C.G.X. Jerrais. Attached is a letter explaining the possible border situation with the Feial and requesting a military shipment; cannon for the forts and extra troops.
GROUND ACTIONS (Commander J. Griswold, Dr. K. Linden)
-Commander Griswold is to continue charting the nascent smugglers’ ring in Fairport and restricting their actions without destroying them outright.
-Governor Snodgrass will be leading a second expedition into the cave-tombs, with additional “volunteers”.
-Fifty men are to be sent to John Smith’s colony at Arcadia, to assist with development of the steam-engine.
-A joint surveying expedition with the Feial is to be sent to chart the land around the Great Gulf and determine borders as a result of this.
Upon heating this part of the page, two additional notes appear, hidden in the margins.
-A letter is to be sent back with a supply convoy addressed directly to the Lord of the Admiralty, elaborating on Linden’s initial findings and recommending he send an observer immediately. Nothing on this topic is to be sent to the Fairport Colonial Company until the Navy has approved.
-The surveying expedition is to make every attempt to note the positions and dispositions of the Feial in relation to the Hawke Border. If they advance en masse into the northern portions of the mountains for any reason Governor Snodgrass is to be informed IMMEDIATELY.
Redeye Flight fucked around with this message at Jul 7, 2017 around 04:28
|# ? Jun 20, 2017 15:38|
After the ill-fated expedition, Calvin spends most of his time ministering to the afflicted, and researching his library of religious tomes to try and find out what may have happened; and if there is any way to reverse it or restore the affliction. Outside, the harvest continues. Calvin orders patrols of a dozen armed people to sweep the area to the north, everyone wearing one of the suits of soul-armor. Accompanied by as many dogs as they could handle, with orders to kill any isolated soul-harvesters, or drive off any groups, wounding or killing as able. Now, the colony of Arkham is currently being run by a small council. It consists of the Mayor, a woman named Humility Cooper, elected by the colonists, the Steward, a man named Randall Talbot, who was appointed by the Earl of Weselton before their departure, and Calvin, as Patriarch. The Mayor and the Steward make decisions regarding the day to day operations of the colony, only consulting Calvin when there are matters spiritual or political to deal with, or to break one of the rare ties between them. One day, Randall and Humility ask Calvin to attend them in the brick house set aside for the council. Randall holds out a small paper to Calvin. He reads it quickly, and looks up.
"I thought we came here to avoid these entanglements. What's this about a Conclave?" asked Randall.
"And why are they callin' you 'Duke'? That ain't right," said Humility.
"This is the first I'm hearing of this," replied Calvin. "I recognize a few of these names. None so elevated as this. Perhaps these men are like scared cats, puffing themselves up to seem bigger."
There were relieved chuckles at that. "You're not going to attend, are you?" asked Randall.
"A few months ago... no. But what we found in those ruins... might be bigger than all this. Bigger than the Feial or the Pyreneze, certainly..."
"Yes. These 'soul-harvesters' you saw," said Randall. Skeptically.
"We should warn the others, at the very least. I can take one of the remaining ships."
"Ah," says Randall. "We've been very generous with manpower. Forty men on the last expedition, nearly two dozen on these patrols of yours, another sixty sent back to Gault for more of the brethren."
"Hopefully they'll be back soon, we should have proper homes built for them," says Humility. "The brickworks take a lot of labor."
"And after the harvest, planting. I don't think we can spare another twenty men for however long it takes." The two other council members looked at Calvin. He stared back for a few minutes, and then bowed. "Of course, our work here takes precedence. Perhaps when the ships return from Gault or after planting I can borrow a few men and a ship."
"We shall see," replied Randall. "I don't think the Earl would want us to make any... agreements without consulting him first. And certainly not without us getting a chance to decide on the matter."
"Of course," replied Calvin. "I will not commit us to anything. But this New Rotham is far too distant to walk. We can always wait until they send messengers to us directly."
"I don't think we should show this letter to anyone, lest people start to worry about your elevation," said Randall. He placed the letter over a candle until it caught flame, and then he placed it in the room's hearth. "I'm glad we could put this matter to rest."
And so it had rested, for some time. However, to everyone's surprise, one of the merchant ships sailed into the bay. After a quick consultation with the council, Calvin was able to barter passage aboard the ship, in exchange for provisions sufficient to reach the destination; and of course, upon his return, provisions for the return voyage as well. Calvin headed off to the conclave with a few assistants. The soldier Johann, and the young hunter Marigold. Both of them, soul-less. And another young missionary, a gangly lad, Matthias Drake. Calvin also brought five of the "soul armors" with him, leaving the remaining twenty at home for his patrols.
Armed patrollers wearing the 'soul armor' and leading packs of hunting dogs will try to kill any isolated 'soul harvesters' they find, and drive off and injure large groups.
Calvin researches his religious texts to see if he can find a spiritual remedy to the literal loss of a soul. Or at the very least, to see if the soul can be reclaimed by Azathoth.
sullat fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2017 around 03:49
|# ? Jun 21, 2017 01:28|
Letter from John Smith to Arthur Fitzroy posted:
We've known for years now the Pyreneze have had these steam engines. In little under a year we have been able to make our own, thanks to the freedom Arcadia offers from the Church. I can't even begin to explain the possibilities nor do I think you are one to need an explanation. We're already beginning work on a new model and steam driven tools. I do not exaggerate when I say its worth its weight in gold. I have all my free ships back to Gault with trade goods to acquire material and goods we do not yet possess. By the time a ship arrives back here with your response I expect to be able to send you the plans for these new innovations as well. In the mean time however, we are in need of things that require a man of your influence. The threat of a possible rogue Pyreneze colony and the Church have forced me to begin the formation of a standing militia. Yes, I imagine that is worthy of a laugh. I have no military experience of my own. But there are many back home in Gault and even abroad that do.
An Excerpt from Victor Hemmingway's Treatise on the Ostrich of Peregrin Minor.
John returns from the conclave, filled with new resolve at the news of the Pyreneze. Beautiful Arcadia greets him, his dream and the fruit of his labors. Now he must worry about that fruit being plucked. He makes his way down the ship gangplank, ignoring the strain as always to maintain a normal pace. This early, the dock is filled with fishing vessels back with the morning catch. There is an ostrich drawn cart waiting nearby with Dr. Anders. The older man waves when he sees John and motions him forward.
"Good news I hope?" Dr. Anders asks as John sits down and the cart takes off.
"Good, and bad. I've made a deal with some of the other colonies for supplies to further our own work here. The rest well, I will be calling the assembly for tomorrow."
- - -
"...and that concludes my briefing on the Conclave." John sits down, his throat parched. He sips water as the room explodes in talking. A gavel slams down, calling for order.
"Order, order please! These issues will be addressed and are already being done so." John shouts.
A man in front stands up and speaks. "How?"
"We've already begun the formation of a standing army and new ships are underway. The Feial will abide by their agreement so there is no threat there. The formation of the Conclave Army and Navy secures us against outside attack, and the new outpost of Molpe secures the access to the inner sea." John stands up and spreads his arms. "People, we have come far. You have trusted me to lead you this far and look what we have accomplished. Yes, these coming years will be a trial. But no worse than any trial we have already faced. We are here now, together and strong in that unity. And once we have passed this crucible, through strength of body AND mind we will emerge even stronger than before."
There is silence, a brief pause. One man stands, than another, and soon the whole room is on their feet applauding. John waits a moment before signalling for silence once more.
"Now, onto the matters for the next period..."
- - -
Its late in the evening when the assembly finally finishes. There was a large amount of debate over the militant shift and the construction of a gun manufacturing facility but in the end it was accepted. However people were in good cheer over the long awaited University construction plans. As John walks into his office, he can see the great plan he had drawn up laying on the table. He had just started to read reports when there is a knock and Dr. Seljon walks in. The man's mustache is set in a hard line, a sure sign he wants something. John can always tell the good doctors mood by his the set of his upper lip.
The man sits down right away before speaking. "John, I feel we're neglecting the health of the colony." John looks up surprised but Dr. Seljon continues on before he can speak. "Yes, yes I've seen the medical building of the university plan. But John, we don't have an actual hospital! I've been working out of an oversized barn."
"Whats your proposal then?" asks John.
"Double the size of the medical building. Have half built and serve as a hospital. The hospital will always be most update and the students will have access to patients to study."
John sits there, stunned. How has no one ever thought of this before? "That is brilliant! It will take a day or two to change the plans but it will be done."
- - -
A mixture of 100 old colonists and 100 new colonists are sent to island, now named Molpe. They will settle there and build in a similar fashion to Arcadia's layout. A large section by the docks will be left alone for future naval expansion.
Three of John's ships will be sent back with trade goods. Baby ostriches, ostrich feathers, Hardroot Beer, sugar beets...and a full model of a steam engine along with schematics, to be delivered only to Arthur FitzRoy and only when he personally comes to the ship.
1. John doesn't know much about military matters, but there are hunters and former soldiers among his colonists who would. Begin the formation of the Ostrich Roughriders, a group of irregulars with Captain Williams at their head. Williams is the tracker who first found the Roc breed of ostrich.. Set up a training ground, barracks, and armory. John has highly encouraged the men to report any suggestions they might have to the armory. His agreement with Sir Andrew also means they will receive military training and tactics from the man.
2. Part of coming to the new world was to escape the old restrictions on learning. But so far they do not have a large place to do so. Begin construction on the Arcadian University! While the actual buildings and size used for now will be small, a good sized section of land will be set aside for future expansion. Though they don't have anything to actually fill it with quite yet, they will build a large library as well. Dr. Seljon the head of the medical community has made note of the lack of a formal hospital and lobbied hard to get the university medical building to double as one. Consequently it will be the largest building there, split between learning facilities and actual patient care.
3. Steam ship! Many of the younger engineers are eager to begin on this project with John. There has been considerable debate on the actual design and method of propulsion. But they have plenty of time to work on it, not to mention two different drydocks to build in to allow for experimentation. Each drydock will build a different design so both can be tested. Using the sailors Mortimer lends to crew some of our existing ships frees our own sailors to begin immediate training on and with these new steam ships. Furthermore they will be able to give input and advice from a practical perspective that may be lacking from the technical side of things.
4. The news of the Pyreneze has made John, well, anxious. They hold the technological advantage in war and he's not sure how to bridge that gap. For the mean time he wants to set up a gun manufacturing and testing facility. If he can confer later with Sir Malcom Hawk, the grizzled war veteran might have suggestions. Otherwise he'll have to see what the Roughriders think from the experience they gain.
5. Steam Tools! Steam power is revolutionary allowing machinery normally powered by water wheel or wind to be used elsewhere. Anything that could use mechanical force can be powered with steam! Winches, lifts, cranes, pumps, even...wheels? Attempt to develop practical applications for the steam engine to help our developing colonies get a boost.
6. Dr. Cassaway believes he can improved the design of the steam engine even further! With the influx of metal from Andrew to provide material for prototypes Dr. Cassaway thinks he can make a smaller, lighter and more efficient steam engine than the one they currently have now.
7. Andrews has asked that we investigate the effects of eyefruit. Dr. Seljon is eager to give it a shot. The light sensitivity only seems to come up when drinking the wine. Maybe distilling and concentrating will isolate whats causing this. Maybe it can be used?
8. Set up a small team to start studying how to bring water to Arcadia. We know of the fresh water pumping up from the cave, and the wells in the jungle. What would it take to bring either to Arcadia?
Quornes fucked around with this message at Jul 11, 2017 around 20:32
|# ? Jul 6, 2017 00:06|
|# ? Feb 22, 2018 14:55|
With Special Guest Appearance By: Father Blackwood
"So tell me again, Asta." Mother Sohvi Sylvi says in her high, mocking voice. "Why are we holding Republic meetings of state in a foreign bar?"
"One, it's an inn. The Inn and Out, inn-fact." Mother Sarkaski Asta says.
Slyvi groans. Asta is a round faced blonde woman, wearing a near-perpetual smile. She's got bright blue eyes, clear like a summer sky. Before her is a thick cut of steak and a generous glass of Blackwood wine.
"And two, because you can't strike a good deal without a good meal." She says.
Sylvi rolls her eyes. She's a tall, muscular redheaded woman wearing a mantle of furs over the shattered remains of a Church uniform and battle-armor, stitched together with goatgut thread.
"You're worse than your blood mother." She says.
Asta breaks out in laughter.
"You don't say that in the bedroll." She says after she recovers.
Sylvi can't help but laugh herself.
"And that's because you don't say anything either." She says.
Andrew bumbles his way through the other revellers back to the Feial group, carrying this particular round of drinks.
“Here we go. One thing for everyone… Now, are you going to get on with things or are you just here to drink me out of my export money?”
The three women at the table look at him, then Mother Sohvi. She studies him for a moment, then nods.
"Take a seat, Father Blackwood." She says.
Andrew takes to the proffered seat, carefully laying down the glasses of various types of booze in front of each of the Feial patrons as he does so.
“No need for me to take it Mother Sohvi, I do own it after all.”
Sohvi smiles, she still has her perfect Gaultese teeth. Too many of them, infact. They catch the candelight and shine yellow and red.
"The Great Mother has put us, the Harmonious Circle, in charge of setting internal and external policy. She can't read, and politics just make her angry. As you well know." Sohvi says, then takes a sip of wine.
"The Conclave was instructive, Asta took rather extensive notes when she wasn't trying to get Mother Mayble's attention." Sohvi says.
Asta rolls her eyes playfully.
"You're going to complain about my thing for redheads now?"
Sohvi smiles at her.
"Not complaining, noting."
Kivinen Setu, clad in sealskin and with a face that resembles tanned leather, clears her throat.
"Please, the banter might be appropiate for your yurts but we are in the presence of an honorable leader." She says in her gravelly voice.
Andrew just snorts, and starts to make headway on his own drink.
"We're very pleased with the arrangements we've reached with you on trade, and we appreciate you standing up for us at the Conclave." Setu says.
Each word is like a pin on a map, carefully placed and enucinated. Asta takes a giant bite of her steak and washes it down with wine. Sohvi is looking out over the party.
"And from certain reactions, and how you dealt with several issues we believe we may have...mutual interests." Asta says with a little smile.
She pulls a large leatherbound journal from a bag slung over her chair.
"I think we can agree Snodgrass and Smith represent obstacles to our mutual interests." She says.
Andrew takes on a slightly more serious demeanor.
“Entirely possibly, and in fact plausible. But it must be remembered that there are many “mutuals” we must all respect. Our personal mutual benefit, the Gaultese colonies mutual benefit, everyones mutual benefit against outside interlopers…”.
He takes another swig before continuing.
“I won’t beat around the bush; a good deal is a good deal, but a better deal is better.” He says, with a small wave toward the Feial.
“And competition is healthy, especially when ideologies are concerned; but let’s not pretend that the definition of ‘obstacle’ is the same for both of our groups. But in any event, I remain committed to the idea that leaving the Feial to do what they need to do is the best way to achieve lasting peace and harmony. And let the naysayers swallow that.”
All three women break into the same smile.
"Of course, the Republic values it's relationship with the colonies. Especially the unique relationship our peoples have begun to cultivate." Mother Kivinen says.
Sohvi leans back in her chair, her sword sheathe drags against the ground.
"We've largely taken steps to deal with the cultural issues. You'll find we...forget to enforce many of the old traditions in our trade zone in recognition of your own blindness regarding what the Church might call...deviant sexual behavior by Republicans in your settlements." Sohvi says.
Sohvi looks to Asta.
"This, this is about money. This is about influence. The Republic wants nothing more and nothing less than to have the resources to ensure it's independence is respected. Money is where that begins. Money buys influence. Influence gets you more money. It's...a harmonious circle, you could say." Asta says.
"Money is of course, the life blood of most endeavours, harmony included.” Andrew says in agreement.
“The bank that’s being co-founded should provide adequate fertiliser, but you also need seeds and land to grow your crops on… your money crops, that…”.
Andrew fusses a moment, trying to save the metaphor, before giving up.
"You need all the basic elements, and time. From our shared reports, you have everything but times passage, yes?”
"You are right, but there's a threat already looming. Snodgrass is trying to set himself up as the continent's trade kingpin. If he can do that, both of our bottom lines suffer. We need to keep him from consolidating his power before we have a chance to grow." Asta says.
"Power usually consolidates towards those with the ability and will to consolidate it. Does Mortimer’s consolidation HAVE to affect our bottom-lines? And if it does, how does he get slowed down? In these situations, out-competing or finding an accommodation are usually your only options. If one is off the table, then there’s only one other possibility. Unless there’s a plan? For the record, and in the interests of full disclosure. There are already some deals in place between Fairport and New Rotham. If I’m needed elsewhere, for a good long while, now is the time to say.” Andrew finishes his drink.
“Competition is good for the organisations competing, but there are… codes of good conduct that shouldn’t be broken.”
Sylvi and Asta giggle.
"We knew about the wine deal before we asked you to sit down here. If anything, it helps us at the present moment." Asta says.
She opens her journal and pulls out a sheaf of prepared papers.
"We have something in mind, and we think you'll like it..."
1. The Republic has several prearranged contracts they will fulfill
1a. One dozen Virtanen women will attempt to tame or control the Jackal-Rabbit population for Father Blackwood; in trade the Republic will receive 15% of the profits from any Jackal-Rabbit based products for a period of ten years.
1b. Five good scouts will be placed at Father Blackwood's command for the purpose of studying the abandoned southern cape village. Another five will be put at his disposal for scouting city sites along the western coast of Peregrin Minor
1c. One dozen warriors will be placed at Father Montressor's disposal to battle the Sons of Dark in his territory. Calvin will handle all costs of hosting them; they will be paid by being allowed to take as much food and salt as they can carry home when they are finished.
2. The Republic And New Rotham come together to found Peregrin Minor's first state-controlled bank, along with the Republic Free Trade Zone - a specially demarcated mountain range on the Southern Cape set aside for economic development and free trade between the Republic and wider world. It is the only area in the Republic outsiders may visit without special diplomatic permission. It is also the only place for outsiders to purchase goods from the Republic. Along with this, the Republic has reached a special agreement to lease it's 100 men to Father Blackwood
3. The Republic will begin the great process of moving into and inhabiting the Härmälä mountain range. Migration tracks are set down across the southern Härmälä and South Cape region.
4. Two teams of five scouts will be sent north along the Härmälä range. One team will determine the exact extent and scout the resources of the Härmälä range. The other will priortize discovery of the Peregrin Major landbridge. Both teams will have a diplomatic agent of the Republic on hand.
5. Watch This Space
The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at Jul 12, 2017 around 00:08
|# ? Jul 12, 2017 00:03|