Bloody Horizons (OOC|Interest)

[Neolvex]

*needs briefing*

[Vulkata II]

*needs briefing*

I got a briefcase full of briefs.

I am also a Door to door Brief's salesman

[Tyrnica]

Well we clearly use modern linguistic tools to decode their language from its likely Indo-European roots. Clearly.

On a serious note, taking sometime to figure out the language would be interesting.

Ah, yes. We'll use the Lithuanians as the prime example to extract the Raltan language from its linguistic base.

*needs briefing*

In what sense? If you're talking about the whole situation, you can read the thread. It's only a few pages. If you want more than that, you've got as much knowledge as the rest of us, buddy.

[Ralta (Ancient)]

Language:

A FEW Raltans will know English from going abroad and trading with other peoples, but beyond that, Raltan language sounds mostly oriental, with hints of Norse/Icelandic, but the actual words I am basically making up as I go along since I am planning on just putting the sentences into italics.

[Tyrnica]

Language:

A FEW Raltans will know English from going abroad and trading with other peoples, but beyond that, Raltan language sounds mostly oriental, with hints of Norse/Icelandic, but the actual words I am basically making up as I go along since I am planning on just putting the sentences into italics.

Ah, good. So, the world doesn't know much about the Raltans . . . But the Raltans have gone a few places, seen a few things, so did they just decide that the rest of the world wasn't a particularly nice place to interact with?

As for the italics, does that mean that the italicised words will be specific, like "the gaijin knows nothing," or something completely different?

[Ralta (Ancient)]

Language:

A FEW Raltans will know English from going abroad and trading with other peoples, but beyond that, Raltan language sounds mostly oriental, with hints of Norse/Icelandic, but the actual words I am basically making up as I go along since I am planning on just putting the sentences into italics.

Ah, good. So, the world doesn't know much about the Raltans . . . But the Raltans have gone a few places, seen a few things, so did they just decide that the rest of the world wasn't a particularly nice place to interact with?

As for the italics, does that mean that the italicised words will be specific, like "the gaijin knows nothing," or something completely different?

Going to vary, when Raltans are talking to each other it going to sentences written in English but italicized meaning they entire thing they said in in Raltan.

But it may also be thing like "You monsai know nothing!"

Still need to put cities on the map....oops...

[Tyrnica]

Ah, good. So, the world doesn't know much about the Raltans . . . But the Raltans have gone a few places, seen a few things, so did they just decide that the rest of the world wasn't a particularly nice place to interact with?

As for the italics, does that mean that the italicised words will be specific, like "the gaijin knows nothing," or something completely different?

Going to vary, when Raltans are talking to each other it going to sentences written in English but italicized meaning they entire thing they said in in Raltan.

But it may also be thing like "You monsai know nothing!"

Still need to put cities on the map....oops...

Ah, alright then.

Haha, better get round to that.

"So where's that Raltan city?"
"Um . . ."
"Do you even have a map?"
"N-No . . . But . . . "
". . ."

[Ralta (Ancient)]

Assume that each Animal Mountain is a religious center(With no small garrison of fanatical Drashi)

[Ralta (Ancient)]

On the few Raltans who went abroad:

Raltans are too concerned with their own perfection of War and their civil war to give a shit about the rest of the world. The few that left basically became a pariah upon returning, and they mostly left to simply get better educations then were avialable at home.

[Tyrnica]

(Image)

Assume that each Animal Mountain is a religious center(With no small garrison of fanatical Drashi)

Ooh . . . Esten is very close to where I was considering dropping a colony . . . That could be interesting.

On the few Raltans who went abroad:

Raltans are too concerned with their own perfection of War and their civil war to give a shit about the rest of the world. The few that left basically became a pariah upon returning, and they mostly left to simply get better educations then were avialable at home.

Oh, I see. So the civil conflict in Ralta has been going on for just about as long as anyone can remember, then?

[Ralta (Ancient)]

(Image)

Assume that each Animal Mountain is a religious center(With no small garrison of fanatical Drashi)

Ooh . . . Esten is very close to where I was considering dropping a colony . . . That could be interesting.

On the few Raltans who went abroad:

Raltans are too concerned with their own perfection of War and their civil war to give a shit about the rest of the world. The few that left basically became a pariah upon returning, and they mostly left to simply get better educations then were avialable at home.

Oh, I see. So the civil conflict in Ralta has been going on for just about as long as anyone can remember, then?

Think The Warring States Period but it has been going on for nearly 2000 years.

[Neolvex]

*needs briefing*

I got a briefcase full of briefs.

I am also a Door to door Brief's salesman

Wait, a brief brief or a briefing?

[Ralta (Ancient)]

I'll actually be writing seriously tomorrow so the OP will be done, going to include a duel, some background info, and at least one of the leaders getting something written about them.

[Neolvex]

*is gonna need to know what's happening after 12 hour flight*

[Ralta (Ancient)]

“All that has begun, will eventually end. It is nature. A life leads to death, a death leads to new life. An age ends to begins another.”

- Ralkan Proverb

Ralka, a country bound by war. For over two hundred years they have stood against each other spilling rivers of blood in vain attempts to gain supremacy over each other. A place focused on the art of war, it has been ruled by warlords and warrior queens. Two powers have risen among the ashes of hundreds that came before them. The Vilra Clan based in the east, and the Darholm-Kaldron Federation in the west.

For nearly three thousand years the Ralka have trained, prepared for wars, but never increased in their technology. Stagnated in the Dark Ages, secluded from the rest of the world. They believed they were the most powerful, the most civilized people. The ships spotted on the coast had changed that. The rumors of foreign men travelling through the mountain passes.

They realized they were not alone. They still believed they were superior. They did not know of the power of gunpowder. They did not know the lengths empires would take for the Ralkan’s red metal; Raltium, a mineral vastly superior to steel.

They would learn.

They would bleed.

Crissen, Ralta 1820 CE

The wind was howling, beating the banners of the Federation into a nearly horizontal position. The Vilra Clan’s colors were being nearly torn in two on the walls of the besieged city. Rain scythed down like a merciless battering wave. No catapults or ballistas would be firing today. Instead the entirety of the Federation line stood in battle order, drenched yet hopeful. Men and women stood side by side, prepared to die.

They were the finest soldiers to have yet walked on Ralkan soil. Ever outnumbered by their foes, ever disciplined. They were no mere Trachi, they were Ceritte, trained by the most ferocious warriors among a country of battle hardened veterans. The wore armor made of black iron, but their spears, halberds, glaives, swords, and axes were of Raltium. Red like the blood that flowed in rivers throughout the country.

In unison they began hitting blades against shields and shafts of their polearms into the ground. Thump-Thum-Thump. They all turned inward to reveal their champion. Thump-thum-thump. The Drashi walked forward, each foot step matched with one of the beats. The sound echoed all around, the soldiers of Vilra watched as the bone masked warrior came into bow shot of the walls. Thump-thum-thump. He halted and raised his hand, the resounding beat ended.

The warrior lowered his hand towards his Berachi, the blade of the bear on his back. His armor glinted in a flash of lightning as he raised his towards the walls. “I am Gorolf Serate, of Clan Darholm. I challenge your finest warrior to a duel to the death, or may he or she be forever dishonored! I have no time for cowards!” His voice echoed, an air of brutality on it. Everyone knew who he was. The Reaper. He was a terror to his enemies and an inspiration to his allies.

After several minutes the gates to Cerrin opened after so slightly. A man in dry white and blue cloth, with iron pauldrons carved into leopard claws exited. He had not been with his men. Gorolf already hated him. “I am Tashi Eseri, I accept your challenge, Son of the Bear.” His voice was arrogant and condescending. Just like the lot of Vilra Drashi.

The gated quickly closed, and they stood ten feet apart staring each other down. Both of them drew their swords at identical times, as if they had practiced it. Then they stood like statues, Tashi’s patience wore out first. In an explosion of movement the Vilra Drashi dashed forward and sent out a series of blows that would have left even the most experienced knight reeling, the best swordsman among the samurai weakened by the hammering, quick blows that those of the Panther learned to make.

Gorolf blocked each with reserved ease, the deflected the last and drove his bear-head carved shoulder plate into Tashi’s chest. Tashi was sent three feet back, and landed hard, but from the ground blocked the mighty falling strike from the Reaper, then forcing his adversary to take a step back from a kick that would have taken his legs out from under him. Tashi sprang into the air and they launched at each other instantly.

The clanging of metal echoed as warriors on both sides jeered and whooped. The duelists dragged each other around the fields of Crissen before they parted, circling each other. Both were taking deep breaths calmly, then Gorolf went on the offensive. His blade came up in a two handed uppercut. Tashi blocked the strike, but Gorolf slide the blade up Tashi’s and with a powerful cut made a deep cut into his wrist, and in another blur of motion the duel was over. The dagger of the Bear protruded from Tashi’s throat, Gorolf still holding his Berachi in his left hand up against Tashi’s wrist.

He ripped the blade out and turned to face the corpse. He gave a bow, then he personally carried it to the gate and dropped it in front of it, wipsed of his blade on his tunic, then walked back to his lines as his soldiers sat in their battle lines, returning to creating the cacophony. For an hour following

Thump-thum-thump….

[Tyrnica]

“All that has begun, will eventually end. It is nature. A life leads to death, a death leads to new life. An age ends to begins another.”

- Ralkan Proverb

Ralka, a country bound by war. For over two hundred years they have stood against each other spilling rivers of blood in vain attempts to gain supremacy over each other. A place focused on the art of war, it has been ruled by warlords and warrior queens. Two powers have risen among the ashes of hundreds that came before them. The Vilra Clan based in the east, and the Darholm-Kaldron Federation in the west.

For nearly three thousand years the Ralka have trained, prepared for wars, but never increased in their technology. Stagnated in the Dark Ages, secluded from the rest of the world. They believed they were the most powerful, the most civilized people. The ships spotted on the coast had changed that. The rumors of foreign men travelling through the mountain passes.

They realized they were not alone. They still believed they were superior. They did not know of the power of gunpowder. They did not know the lengths empires would take for the Ralkan’s red metal; Raltium, a mineral vastly superior to steel.

They would learn.

They would bleed.

Crissen, Ralta 1820 CE

The wind was howling, beating the banners of the Federation into a nearly horizontal position. The Vilra Clan’s colors were being nearly torn in two on the walls of the besieged city. Rain scythed down like a merciless battering wave. No catapults or ballistas would be firing today. Instead the entirety of the Federation line stood in battle order, drenched yet hopeful. Men and women stood side by side, prepared to die.

They were the finest soldiers to have yet walked on Ralkan soil. Ever outnumbered by their foes, ever disciplined. They were no mere Trachi, they were Ceritte, trained by the most ferocious warriors among a country of battle hardened veterans. The wore armor made of black iron, but their spears, halberds, glaives, swords, and axes were of Raltium. Red like the blood that flowed in rivers throughout the country.

In unison they began hitting blades against shields and shafts of their polearms into the ground. Thump-Thum-Thump. They all turned inward to reveal their champion. Thump-thum-thump. The Drashi walked forward, each foot step matched with one of the beats. The sound echoed all around, the soldiers of Vilra watched as the bone masked warrior came into bow shot of the walls. Thump-thum-thump. He halted and raised his hand, the resounding beat ended.

The warrior lowered his hand towards his Berachi, the blade of the bear on his back. His armor glinted in a flash of lightning as he raised his towards the walls. “I am Gorolf Serate, of Clan Darholm. I challenge your finest warrior to a duel to the death, or may he or she be forever dishonored! I have no time for cowards!” His voice echoed, an air of brutality on it. Everyone knew who he was. The Reaper. He was a terror to his enemies and an inspiration to his allies.

After several minutes the gates to Cerrin opened after so slightly. A man in dry white and blue cloth, with iron pauldrons carved into leopard claws exited. He had not been with his men. Gorolf already hated him. “I am Tashi Eseri, I accept your challenge, Son of the Bear.” His voice was arrogant and condescending. Just like the lot of Vilra Drashi.

The gated quickly closed, and they stood ten feet apart staring each other down. Both of them drew their swords at identical times, as if they had practiced it. Then they stood like statues, Tashi’s patience wore out first. In an explosion of movement the Vilra Drashi dashed forward and sent out a series of blows that would have left even the most experienced knight reeling, the best swordsman among the samurai weakened by the hammering, quick blows that those of the Panther learned to make.

Gorolf blocked each with reserved ease, the deflected the last and drove his bear-head carved shoulder plate into Tashi’s chest. Tashi was sent three feet back, and landed hard, but from the ground blocked the mighty falling strike from the Reaper, then forcing his adversary to take a step back from a kick that would have taken his legs out from under him. Tashi sprang into the air and they launched at each other instantly.

The clanging of metal echoed as warriors on both sides jeered and whooped. The duelists dragged each other around the fields of Crissen before they parted, circling each other. Both were taking deep breaths calmly, then Gorolf went on the offensive. His blade came up in a two handed uppercut. Tashi blocked the strike, but Gorolf slide the blade up Tashi’s and with a powerful cut made a deep cut into his wrist, and in another blur of motion the duel was over. The dagger of the Bear protruded from Tashi’s throat, Gorolf still holding his Berachi in his left hand up against Tashi’s wrist.

He ripped the blade out and turned to face the corpse. He gave a bow, then he personally carried it to the gate and dropped it in front of it, wipsed of his blade on his tunic, then walked back to his lines as his soldiers sat in their battle lines, returning to creating the cacophony. For an hour following

Thump-thum-thump….

Ooh, very nice. Definitely gives off that feeling of foreboding – it seems like it should belong in the thirteenth century, but it's the nineteenth and things are about to go very pear-shaped.

Although, you used both "Ralka" and "Ralta." Which is it?

Furthermore, is there the chance we can prod the year up to 1821, instead of 1820? 1821 saw the change of rulers in Tyrnica after the death of Nicholas II, who wouldn't have condoned the brutal colonisation that's about to go on.

Sorry . . .

[Ralta (Ancient)]

- Ralkan Proverb

Ralka, a country bound by war. For over two hundred years they have stood against each other spilling rivers of blood in vain attempts to gain supremacy over each other. A place focused on the art of war, it has been ruled by warlords and warrior queens. Two powers have risen among the ashes of hundreds that came before them. The Vilra Clan based in the east, and the Darholm-Kaldron Federation in the west.

For nearly three thousand years the Ralka have trained, prepared for wars, but never increased in their technology. Stagnated in the Dark Ages, secluded from the rest of the world. They believed they were the most powerful, the most civilized people. The ships spotted on the coast had changed that. The rumors of foreign men travelling through the mountain passes.

They realized they were not alone. They still believed they were superior. They did not know of the power of gunpowder. They did not know the lengths empires would take for the Ralkan’s red metal; Raltium, a mineral vastly superior to steel.

They would learn.

They would bleed.

Crissen, Ralta 1820 CE

The wind was howling, beating the banners of the Federation into a nearly horizontal position. The Vilra Clan’s colors were being nearly torn in two on the walls of the besieged city. Rain scythed down like a merciless battering wave. No catapults or ballistas would be firing today. Instead the entirety of the Federation line stood in battle order, drenched yet hopeful. Men and women stood side by side, prepared to die.

They were the finest soldiers to have yet walked on Ralkan soil. Ever outnumbered by their foes, ever disciplined. They were no mere Trachi, they were Ceritte, trained by the most ferocious warriors among a country of battle hardened veterans. The wore armor made of black iron, but their spears, halberds, glaives, swords, and axes were of Raltium. Red like the blood that flowed in rivers throughout the country.

In unison they began hitting blades against shields and shafts of their polearms into the ground. Thump-Thum-Thump. They all turned inward to reveal their champion. Thump-thum-thump. The Drashi walked forward, each foot step matched with one of the beats. The sound echoed all around, the soldiers of Vilra watched as the bone masked warrior came into bow shot of the walls. Thump-thum-thump. He halted and raised his hand, the resounding beat ended.

The warrior lowered his hand towards his Berachi, the blade of the bear on his back. His armor glinted in a flash of lightning as he raised his towards the walls. “I am Gorolf Serate, of Clan Darholm. I challenge your finest warrior to a duel to the death, or may he or she be forever dishonored! I have no time for cowards!” His voice echoed, an air of brutality on it. Everyone knew who he was. The Reaper. He was a terror to his enemies and an inspiration to his allies.

After several minutes the gates to Cerrin opened after so slightly. A man in dry white and blue cloth, with iron pauldrons carved into leopard claws exited. He had not been with his men. Gorolf already hated him. “I am Tashi Eseri, I accept your challenge, Son of the Bear.” His voice was arrogant and condescending. Just like the lot of Vilra Drashi.

The gated quickly closed, and they stood ten feet apart staring each other down. Both of them drew their swords at identical times, as if they had practiced it. Then they stood like statues, Tashi’s patience wore out first. In an explosion of movement the Vilra Drashi dashed forward and sent out a series of blows that would have left even the most experienced knight reeling, the best swordsman among the samurai weakened by the hammering, quick blows that those of the Panther learned to make.

Gorolf blocked each with reserved ease, the deflected the last and drove his bear-head carved shoulder plate into Tashi’s chest. Tashi was sent three feet back, and landed hard, but from the ground blocked the mighty falling strike from the Reaper, then forcing his adversary to take a step back from a kick that would have taken his legs out from under him. Tashi sprang into the air and they launched at each other instantly.

The clanging of metal echoed as warriors on both sides jeered and whooped. The duelists dragged each other around the fields of Crissen before they parted, circling each other. Both were taking deep breaths calmly, then Gorolf went on the offensive. His blade came up in a two handed uppercut. Tashi blocked the strike, but Gorolf slide the blade up Tashi’s and with a powerful cut made a deep cut into his wrist, and in another blur of motion the duel was over. The dagger of the Bear protruded from Tashi’s throat, Gorolf still holding his Berachi in his left hand up against Tashi’s wrist.

He ripped the blade out and turned to face the corpse. He gave a bow, then he personally carried it to the gate and dropped it in front of it, wipsed of his blade on his tunic, then walked back to his lines as his soldiers sat in their battle lines, returning to creating the cacophony. For an hour following

Thump-thum-thump….

Ooh, very nice. Definitely gives off that feeling of foreboding – it seems like it should belong in the thirteenth century, but it's the nineteenth and things are about to go very pear-shaped.

Although, you used both "Ralka" and "Ralta." Which is it?

Furthermore, is there the chance we can prod the year up to 1821, instead of 1820? 1821 saw the change of rulers in Tyrnica after the death of Nicholas II, who wouldn't have condoned the brutal colonisation that's about to go on.

Sorry . . .

Yep! Didn't realize I used both Ralta and Ralka......

[Vulkata II]

Is it alright if i use the "You know we were traveling finding something and whoops we found this land"

Also is everyone going to use this RP as canon or non-canon

[Tyrnica]

Is it alright if i use the "You know we were traveling finding something and whoops we found this land"

Also is everyone going to use this RP as canon or non-canon

"Whoops, we found this land and now we don't know what we're going to do because we're not actually the representatives of a nation and these savages just burned our ship," perhaps?

As far as I can tell, Ralta is going to be playing this as an RP that leaves a lot of openings into other possible scenarios – such as the aforementioned world war situation – rather than a one-off thing. So, unless it goes downhill faster the British pound, I'll be treating it as canon.

[Vulkata II]

Is it alright if i use the "You know we were traveling finding something and whoops we found this land"

Also is everyone going to use this RP as canon or non-canon

"Whoops, we found this land and now we don't know what we're going to do because we're not actually the representatives of a nation and these savages just burned our ship," perhaps?

As far as I can tell, Ralta is going to be playing this as an RP that leaves a lot of openings into other possible scenarios – such as the aforementioned world war situation – rather than a one-off thing. So, unless it goes downhill faster the British pound, I'll be treating it as canon.

Cool.

Though the "whoops" excuse sounds a lot like the Spanish here in the Philippines but a lot less timing

[Neolvex]

Is it alright if i use the "You know we were traveling finding something and whoops we found this land"

Also is everyone going to use this RP as canon or non-canon

"Whoops, we found this land and now we don't know what we're going to do because we're not actually the representatives of a nation and these savages just burned our ship," perhaps?

As far as I can tell, Ralta is going to be playing this as an RP that leaves a lot of openings into other possible scenarios – such as the aforementioned world war situation – rather than a one-off thing. So, unless it goes downhill faster the British pound, I'll be treating it as canon.

Ha ha. Brexit jokes. But same here

[Pillowlandia]

Might make it partial canon, such as a colony but not entirely canon as to allow the poor savages to have independence in the MT era if they wish.

[Tyrnica]

Might make it partial canon, such as a colony but not entirely canon as to allow the poor savages to have independence in the MT era if they wish.

Oh, of course. I imagine that if Ralta was a colony by the end of the RP, there would be a couple of follow-ups to dictate how and when Ralta gained independence – or, perhaps, the equivalent status of a Commonwealth country.

[Ralta (Ancient)]

Might make it partial canon, such as a colony but not entirely canon as to allow the poor savages to have independence in the MT era if they wish.

Oh, of course. I imagine that if Ralta was a colony by the end of the RP, there would be a couple of follow-ups to dictate how and when Ralta gained independence – or, perhaps, the equivalent status of a Commonwealth country.

This was my plan.


You can keep insane war worshiping people under your control for so long before they start laughing like some Chaos Zealot and trying to burn the place down.

[Tyrnica]

Oh, of course. I imagine that if Ralta was a colony by the end of the RP, there would be a couple of follow-ups to dictate how and when Ralta gained independence – or, perhaps, the equivalent status of a Commonwealth country.

This was my plan.


You can keep insane war worshiping people under your control for so long before they start laughing like some Chaos Zealot and trying to burn the place down.

Then I'll try and steer it there . . . Dynamically, of course. Completely planned RPs are no fun.

I'm trying to imagine Ralta in world politics.

"Ah, I see you have considered our trade agreement. What do you think?"
"GLORY IN THE NAME OF THE ALPHA!"
*stab stab stab*