Dear Mother, and my lovely father. It has been a major relief for me to be finally able to you agian, over the past weeks, I was completely occupied by the siege of a small fjordish village that were more heavilly defended than we thought, I remember the expressions on everyone's faces when our company commander said that we were going on leave for a fortnight. Unfortunately, John and Edward didn't make it, they were both pulverized by a fjordian grenade, I wish I could personally skewer the bastards that did this with my Bayonet, they have no honor. I am currently on a wagon in route to where I will take my leave in with my company, the city of Bournemouth, I heard of some men in my company calling the city "accursed" or by it's nickname- "The iron citadel" I also have heard rumors about it's sewers and the local food, witch I cannot disclose to you at this time, but I assure you- i will tell these tales when we can finally go home after this horrific war. Much re-----
-letter written by one Ranker Josef F. Willams, whose wagon convoy was ambushed by bandits and destroyed whilst travelling to the Iron Citadel
The year 126 of the imperial calendar
The emperor, Nonus Joannes's enemies are on their last legs, after a war of unfathomable violence and destruction, leaving some villages leveled by artillery bombardments and hand grenades. The Principality of the Northen fjordlands, the Isgalic Imperium's mortaly enemy is on it's last legs. But this isn't about the "Northen war" as it is called. Because if you move back away from the frontlines, hop on a wagon and pay the appropriate price, you may end up in the City of Bournemouth, or as outsiders and visitors (if there is any) call it "the citadel of iron", and serves as the Empire's main location for arms production. however, the name and the purpose is the only positive thing about the city, plumes of smoke can be seen from a day's travel away, rumors of innkeepers using sawdust and other unpleasant items in their recycled soups and stews run rampant throughout the streets. Rats as big as hounds and dogs infest the sewers, with some clawing their way out of the potholes and even toilets to satisfy their hunger, crime his never ben higher than before thanks to a strained city guard with poor quality weapons that often break before they're fired, but perhaps most importantly of all, Sightings of something unknown underground, something terrifying, something Beneath The Citadel Of Iron. With the war coming to a end, and the arms the city produces no longer needed, riots and other unpleasant gatherings increasing, and word of a bubonic plague that is sweeping the empire, from both to south. Dark times are ahead for the people of this accursed city, Dark times indeed.
Welcome to The Citadel Of Iron, a nice little Fantasy Grimdark RP, set in a city that is the armory of a empire at war, during the age of industrial revolution, RPers can play as...anything! From a unlucky conscript to a Dishonerable criminal, a researcher of the mysterious arcane to a Religious crusader for the church, a Hunter of horrible and misshapen beasts, to a merchant of greed and trade. It doesn't matter who you are, you just have One. Single. Objective. Survive
