A New World [Civilization rp | IC | OPEN | PT]

[St George Territory]

OOC: here

A NEW WORLD

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Rules -

• Keep everything civil, we're all trying to enjoy this roleplay
• No dramatic jumps in technology, unless with my permission
• Traveling to places take time and resources, you aren't going to jump from one corner of the map to another in one post.
• Keep everything you post realistic and relevant, the IC is meant for IC, the OOC for OOC.
• Posts are to be at least one paragraph long, nobody wants the IC a cluttered mess.
• If you are defeated, in an appropriate manner, please have the sportsmanship to accept the defeat
• Battles are going to take more than one turn, it should act as follows - planning, action, response, rinse and repeat until victory or defeat
• I am the law, if there is an issue, I will inform you to find a resolution

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[Ifaltannia]

The Grand Castle, Mulford City, Wosrac

~

As the Queen rode on her horse headed to Mulford City, she began to think about the last six years of her life. It wasn't her choice to come back here, for you never want to return to a location where you've received bad news. The image and haunting memory had stuck with her for fifteen is rather young of an age to hear of your father's death. An infantry charge she was told. How was she to know what that meant? Her father had never taught her about warfare. Almost every path she headed past brought with it more memories of their time together. The smell of the grass and with it the sting of falling into a bush. The fruit market, an old favourite relaxation spot. She pictured the days when all she wanted was some fruit, with no other cares or worries. But these days life was different, and even though the crown was not worth all of the pain she had passed through for it, it was hers none the less.

She arrived at the palace. "Hail the Queen!" The guards quickly opened the gates for her, in a matter that made them look fearful. "Chin up lads." Lorisa exclaimed before riding ahead. She arrived at the assembled court and quickly dismounted her horse before entering. "Good evening your Highness." She was greeted by Llyr Mattocks, a Royal advisor since her father took the throne. He proceeded to give Lorisa a briefing about how the kingdom was doing until he finally reached the topic of her newly born son. Llion was her son of course but she had birthed him unmarried. The father was quick to leave the City fearing for his life. "I fear many will not see Llion as a legitimate heir." Llyr addressed. "Why not? He has been legitimised, he is a Calhaearon. Therefore he shall ascend to the throne upon my death." There was a pause. "I'm afraid the public might not see it that way yo-" Lorisa interrupted. "If I marry a commoner and claim he is the father of my child the public shall see him as legitimate, yes?" Llyr sighed. Reluctantly he agreed.

[St George Territory]

Sacred grove of Adymæryð, Barfau Hyr, Norþyk Clan

High King Ægrych the Tall walked through the sacred forest, accompanied by his High Sage, Rhodri, a man about thirty years his senior, since Rhodri had tutored Ægrych, he had always thought the man to be rather a strange case, but it didn't matter as he was a wise man who had given Ægrych the wisdom to lead his people. The walk was something that the High King had cherished, through the dense trees, along the heavily beaten path, past shrines dedicated to all sorts of gods, ranging from Cynþ, goddess of daisies, to Hægyn, god of the ferns, it was a questionable thing, he had always thought, but it gave him a nice relaxing stroll, free from his troubles as the High King, from the petty squabbles of the peasants and serfs, and gave him peace, walking where his ancestors had. At the clearing, about three hundred paces was the 'Oak of Adymæryð' said to be the oldest tree in the world, if the sages were correct, Ægrych sat upon a stone bench with his mentor, watching as the younger sages mended to the sacred oak. "I had the strangest dream last night." He said to Rhodri, not breaking his vision from the oak, "I saw our land flourish, to take the eastern island, and unite with the other great clans."

Rhodri paused, and said, "Aye, such dreams hold great power, of which that is how the Mother speaks to us all, soon, though, young Ægrych, the world shall know of your name and the greatness of Adymæryð. Sometimes, deep in prayer, I have questioned our ways, our seclusion, while necessary in defeating Hydwyr and Thyrwyk, it brings us no greatness, I do suppose that we must move onward?" Ægrych nodded, and the two continued along the path, past the great trees of his forebears, past all the memories of his youth, towards the Great Hall, and to his throne.

Upon entrance to his throne room, he could instantly tell there was an issue, as several of his housecarls approached him, bowed and handed him a letter, "My King, Clan Gædryf's Chief Yædyr requests that you come to assist them over his serfs, they have taken up arms!" Ægrych sighed, and said, "Saddle my horse and fetch my armour, I should take his head for the trouble he causes me!" The housecarls bowed and ran to their tasks. And with that, High King Ægrych was to head south to assist his vassal.

[Molvaniia]

The Tsar of the Molvanskian Empire was Fox hunting with a Sabre in Unclaimed lands, the land was very fertile, and with some occasional hills, and a very large forest. He would be dressed in a Cossacks Coat and a Cossack Kubanka with the Imperial Seal embroidered on it. His coat, made of Wolf fur was a very expensive commodity in the Empire, although, peasants could easily hunt wolves and make their own, but it was hard due to the lack of wolves in the Southern Areas. The Tsar would be accompanied by 2 Molvanskian knights, Wearing Silver Armor, a Silver Helmet, and a Silver faceplate that covered everything on the face except the Eyes and Mouth.

For reference, the guards look like this:

The Tsar would continue into the forest until something Reddish-orange caught his eye, it was the Fox, he and his men Chased after the fox. The Tsar and his men would gain up on the Running fox, until, the Tsar caught up to it, and slashed the Fox with his Cossack Sabre. The Tsar stops his horse and his guards follow. The Tsar gets off and approaches the deceased fox, "This shall make a lovely snack and scarf don't you think? (Սա հաճելի խորտիկ եւ շերտ պետք է լինի:)" The Tsar would say to his men. "Indeed sire, the Fox's pelt would make an absolutely stunning scarf that should surely catch the subjects eyes. (Անշուշտ, ծնոտը կլիներ բացարձակապես զարմանահրաշ գարշապարը, որը, անշուշտ, պետք է բռնի առարկաների աչքերը:)" One of the men would say. "Excellent, then we shall ride back to Sasava, where we shall return to Lutenblag from there. (Գերազանց, ապա մենք կուղեւորվենք դեպի Սասավա, որտեղից այնտեղից կվերադառնանք Լուտենբլագ:)" The Tsar would reply as the got back onto his Black Horse, Obviously, the guards follow. The men carry the Fox and tie it to the back of the horse and ride off with the Tsar. "Today was a very good hunt.. (Այսօր շատ լավ որս էր:)" The Tsar would say to himself.

[Firaxin]

Year 199, Day 5, Season 2

Hux walked through the capital. There were dead bodies in the streets, but he could not prevent that. He could only heal those who had survived. The third building, fifth row. People that were dying would always head here. He ordered his guard to stay outside, as he went in. Inside he was met with screams of pain and whimpering. One man lay out in front of him, his skin looked to be melting off. The man did not see hux, he didn't see anything but his own anguish. Hux kneeled down beside the man, and summoned his will. I will this man to live! Hux thrust his hand onto the body of the man. His palm glowed white, and this glow spread across the dying man. Within a few seconds the man was back to full health, and sound asleep.

He would do this ritual a thousand times again today. For men, women, children, slaves, outsiders, and criminals. He would heal all of them, hoping that they would see the error of what they did, and never do it again. He would do it a thousand times tomorrow, and a thousand times the day after. His mercy could not save everyone however and he knew there were those out there that already wanted him out of power. The family of those he didn't save, the greedy and prideful, and the judicial. He would leave the building before noon, and continue to the edge of town where villagers from outside the capital would gather. After healing them, he would begin the long trek back to the Mansion where he lived.

This is where the story of Ratorus would end.

[Ifaltannia]

The Grand Castle's Court Room, Mulford City, Wosrac

~

"Your majesty!" Llyr beackoned. "You're not seriously going through with this plan are you? Why don't you just marry a noble and declare your bastard child illegitimate?" Lorisa turned to face him and walked up to him."I would sooner cut my own throat and burn my fathers memorial statue. Why don't you stay out of my personal matters and do your job?" Llyr backed off. "I'm sorry your majesty I meant no offence you understand." He said before walking back towards his old chair.

"Llyr, on a different note I think the time has come to expand into the northeast." Lorisa proclaimed. "About time, your grace. Who shall command the main force?" He asked hoping that the answer in is head wasn't the one he'd get. "You and I both know who will lead the main force. It shall be me." Upon Lorisa saying this, Llyr looked uneased. "I mean no offence my grace, but what if you- I don't really know how to put this nicely. What if you end up like your father?" Lorisa gave him a harsh look. "I'd sooner die like my father in battle, than cower from my duties. Besides Llyr, failure is not an option." Upon demanding she would lead the force she sent a courier out to assemble a decent sized force of 6,000 men.

The northeastern nation of Seathar, was unlikely to cause trouble due to its relatively small size and lack of allies. It was untrue to say Lorisa didn't fear them however, for Seatharians were the force that ended her father's reign. She brushed off the concerns, Seather was much smaller now and there was little it could do to stop Wosracan forces.

[Ifaltannia]

The Wosrac-Seathar Border, Wosrac Side

~

Queen Lorisa was exhausted, It had been a long ride from Mulford to the border. Hours felt like days and she was beginning to wonder if she had been doing circles at some point. The northern border was far less rocky than the main Wosrac peninsular, it felt almost alien to her. The lands were heavily forested, and mostly flat besides the occasionally hill. The weather seemed so much nicer here and the countryside far more quiet. Fields and fields lead into forests that seemed to go on forever. It seemed so calm, so pleasant. Lorisa really did feel almost lost in a land she knew.

Nevertheless, she had made it. This was the position she had ordered the men to be ready. As was Wosrac tradition, she was to inspect the soldiers before she lead them into battle. She had ordered a force of 6,000 soldiers to gather here and, with the exception of 500 men who were running late, they had all arrived. She asked her second in command "I've ordered 6,000 and yet the right flank seems smaller than the left! What's going on?" Her second in command turned and explained. "500 men of the right flank are on their way, the had a problem with transport. A issue with two of the carriages I was told." Lorisa accepted that these things happen and began her inspection.

As per her orders the left flank was made of 1,500 soldiers. The centre consisted of 3,000 of slightly less experienced soldiers. The right flank, minus the 500 hundred on the way, was in fighting shape. She stood upon a chair and proceeded to shout. "Left flank, forward!" She then went around with her second in command to check every soldier was in position, and had a weapon of reasonable standards. "Left flank, return! Centre, forward!" Lorisa called in the help of two of the generals to inspect the 3,000 unit centre and upon being satisfied stood upon the chair once more. "Centre, return! Right flank, forward!" Once this inspection was complete it was time to wait for the remaining 500 to appear.

[Molvaniia]

~

The Molvanskians have always wondered what is in the Northern Hinterlands, the Tsar of Molvanskia sends a thousand setters with carts to spread North for the Empire, they are accompanied by 30 Molvanskian Infantry, Along the way, they find more lakes, streams, and Rivers. There are many trees, good for more resources, but, they do come across bandits occasionally, but, they are defeated by our infantry. the Expansion wouldn't take long, and finally, they reached something they have never seen, The Ocean, they found the land stunning, it was a long and endless sea stretching for miles, and few settlers saw an Island with White cliffs, the Settlers gave the name "Երկրիցբացի" Which means "Beyond Land". The thin strip of land along the sea was useful for the Empire and the colonists, they started to set up a Colony which they would name "Bardjov" after the famous warrior "Bardjovkov".

The Town would start out small, containing a few Wagon homes, tents, and some Small Wooden Cabins along with a Town Hall. The only population of the town was 200, since most either died along the way, or decided to return home. The people inhabiting Bardjov "invent" a new technique for catching fish in the Ocean and in the nearby rivers, it was called Fishing. The town's small dock was mostly used for fisherman, but the Settlers were aware of Boats, they used them back in the original lands for relaxing on Rivers, but the Settlers didn't have the right materials for advanced boats, so most used Wooden Logs cut in half and some rope from their wagons to create rafts, but as the Settlers started to gather the materials for better boats, they started to make larger ships.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Earl Domnall mac Find's colours

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Fisherman's quarters, Tír Mael

Domnall watched as the blood dripped down his hands. Before him was the altar of Esus, one of the elder gods and very respected by fishermen nationwide. As he looked up to the altar of stone, he carefully laid out the dead fish before him. He had decapitated the fish with his shortsword, which he neatly placed next to him. There was a crowd of people watching him a few yards away. The Earl was escorted by his guard, so nobody was allowed to get close to him. He then let out a prayer, not only asking from Esus to keep them safe, but he also pleaded to Tuireann not to barrage them with thunder, and to grant them moderate weather on their fares. He pleaded to several gods, showing the populace that he was faithful and like them. When the short ceremony stopped, the earl smiled over to the fishermen, with some of them smiling back. He knew how to catch fish. it was a Umhaillish tradition. He looked over to the deep, blue ocean behind him, and walked away from the fishermen cottages.

Today was an important day, with the earl openly praying, because the first Umhaillish warship was about to set sea. It wouldn't be manned for some time, but it would be used for naval reconnaisance and sea combat later on, if time demanded it. It also served as a private fishing vessel, that could be used by the Domnall and his family.

Domnall wandered through the busy streets of his capital, trying to reach his home. He occasionally had some guards on him, but his public image required him to walk around like a strong man wearing thick armour and not being in need of the assistance of others. Some people even started comparing him to Dagda, a god of strength and appetite. He was none of these things, but he thought that it would be best for him to portray himself as strong as possible. As he crossed a corner, he saw a young woman selling smoked fish. He happily bought some of it, considering that he was hungry. On his way home, he gave some of it to a beggar. Domnall wasn't necessarily a kind or generous man, but he knew that he should get as much popularity as he could, because the reforms that he wanted to pass would be radical and perhaps problematic. He needed to have a solid position, and his people's faith.

He proudly marched through his streets, greeting his subjects and lavishly spending his pounds on the small businesses in the Fisherman district.

[Ifaltannia]

The Charge - Wosrac-Seather Border

~

Lorisa looked over to her left. The left flank commander gave her the symbol, a closed fist. He was ready when she was. She looked to her right, same story. They were hidden on a wooded hill, all the soldiers were quiet, the only noise came from the birds and the enemy encampment. The small force of 2,000 Seathers on the border hadn't even heard the news that they were at war. Total surprise, just as planned. She readied her spear, looked to the sky and took a deep breath in. She began to reflect on her last battle, she didn't expect to come out of this one alive. She knew she overwhelmed the enemy, but she was going to be fighting the men who killed her father, something no other army managed. She gave her two commanders the closed fist.

Suddenly she let out a deafening cry and began the charge, this is what she lived for, the feel of battle. Her cry was soon joined by the shouts of the 3,000 men of the central flank. The rush to reach the encampment saw many of the Central flank fall to a hail of arrows, cries of pain surrounded Lorisa. Now was not the time for distractions. She began to scream again to be joined by her men. The noise echoed through the hills, sending chills down the enemies spines. The screams continued through a second volley of arrow fire. Upon the central force reaching the encampment, stage two of the plan was to come into force the left and right flanks let out their war cries and began to descend upon the basic defences of the encampment.

The charges had taken their toll on each flank, but now the soldiers were in the encampment. Lorisa lead the charge to the centre and before long the entire encampment was engaged in battle. The flanks had completed their wrap around and with little time passing, the battlefield had become a killing zone. Soldiers were wading knee high in corpses and blood. Despite a valiant effort by the Seathers, they were eventually overwhelmed. The engagement was a victory for Lorisa, but she had taken more casualties than she expected to. Her men now numbered somewhere near 4,700. A harsh drop, especially against such an outnumbered foe. Her regiment could potentially risk fighting a force of 3,000 men further north, or wait for reinforcements.

[Molvaniia]

~

The Cold and Rocky channel which the Molvanskians dubbed the "Bardjovian Channel" for it being near the Port City of Bardjov, a small Galley with the flag of the Empire of Molvanskia would attempt to cross the channel and try to see if there was anything on the other side of the cold channel, the Settlers row the boat while singing "Dark Raven". The Loud singing could be heard from across the white cliffs, their Kubankas would wave in the wind, and water would splash into the boat. The Settlers would continue on, not even knowing that there would be any others living on the Island, they would all think of Heaven's Eden on the White Cliff Island, Their boat would be about half way there, and anybody on the cliffs would be able to hear the singing and see the boat approaching

(Limburg, my settlers are approaching your island.

The Settlers, unarmed, approach the Island more and more almost every minute, the Rocky waves Clash against the white cliffs, the Darkened and stormy skies added to the atmosphere of the crossing, the Singing, at 90 Decibels, wouldn't stop. The Ship's head would have a Molvaniian mythical creature, it was a water dragon, and on the Sail, had a white background with a Red Orthodox Cross in the center.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Trí lá de Taranis (the three days of Taranis), deep at night.

Hruodolf watched over his herd of sheep as he saw the band of Cossacks sail along his cottage. He didn't have any lights lit. His house was dark and depressing, but these settlers arrived on golden boats, with their expensive instruments and their thick clothing. The old shepherd looked over the cliffs, trying to see what they were doing, or where they were headed. They followed the cliffs. This didn't seem to be a good idea. A hash of wind and their boat could be hit by the looming stones beneath the water.

He easily concealed himself with his brown clothing, which easily blended with the darkness of the night. Hruodolf remembered that it was tuireann's Trí lá, a calender system where three days are "given" to a god. The people should pray to this god at least one time per Trí Lá.

He got down on his knees and begged the god of thunder to smite these foreigners, for their fire would burn his cottage and murder his sheep. This group of people would only cause destruction, and it would be best for the old man if the ship were to drift into a shallow rock and sink. He could steal the heathen's equipment, their nice-looking clothing and their bright lights. He looked down upon the ship from his cliff, and prayed and prayed. After finishing his prayer, he quickly locked up his sheep and the tame wolf keeping them in place, and rushed off to his community centre. The famous longhouse, in which civilians gathered and talked about politics and local occurences. A "Tea house" of the early medieval times.

When he arrived, he was breathing heavily. He ran most of it because this naval invasion was so urgent. He got to his community leader and told him about the foreign men with their weird language and odd singing. Most people did not believe the man, but the room fell silent as he swore on his steel armband, a sign of a man's age and masculinity. He offered his services to send the heathens back to their land, but Brian, lord of the small community refused, got on his horse, and rode off to Umhaill. This was urgent news. There had been some jokes about the old man, but he had never sworn upon his armband before, and vowing on this sacred traditional garment was considered very serious. So he rode and rode.

Brian was relatively well known in the capital. He'd been nice to the people living there, and his position as lord of a fishing village constantly required his attention. When he finally met with the earl, who was very unhappy about the fact that he had been disturbed in his sleep, he announced that there had beeen foreigners who were traveling along the coast, that they could have embarked on some fishing community, killed the men and women and stolen their supplies. Earl Domnall was very displeased, and gathered his small force of horsemen to ride to Brian's community, Írsra.

They were wearing full combat gear, which slowed them down, but would prove to be an important factor when dealing with these foreigners. They'd be expecting them. With Domnall at the vanguard and his loyalists at his back, the group rode through the deep night, riding west. The earl prayed while he rode, hoping that Toutatis would protect them from the onslaught of these foreigners crossing their lands.

[St George Territory]

Southern Gwydh, Cyr Trynvyk, Gædryf Clan Territory

---

The day was still young as the High King and his Housecarls galloped across the many plains and roads of Gwydh, passing the fawning peasants, and taking residence in the many villages that laid upon the southern route, the Cyr Hændyr. The heavy armour of Ægrych and his men created a deafening noise as he peered out to the coast, a small encampment where the rebels had decided to hold up, undeniably a folly that would end in bloodshed. But that was what Ægrych lived for, the smell of combat, the clanging of swords, it was the one good thing about Gwydh, serfs loved to attempt to rise up against their betters. These men chose to rise up against Chief Yædyr, a man known amongst the other clans as a decadent and greedy, who only survived the wrath of Ægrych by virtue of his birthright to a supposedly loyal clan.

Ægrych took off his helmet as he approached Yædyr; Chief Yædyr who sat upon a wooden throne in his tall command tent, he wore a purple tunic and purple and black trousers, an expensive wardrobe especially for a chief of Hyr Gwydh. Yædyr had sat up and bowed to the High King and said, "My King! My thanks for your speedy arrival, the serfs appear to gotten a little haughty!" He laughed aloud, through sips of his mug of beer, as High King Ægrych looked cold, "I come to ensure peace and that Olævyþ has his supply of blood to ensure our realm knows peace, I follow my enemies to end them and to collect. That is what I am here to do on this day." Yædyr's chuckle turned into a frightened mew as he said, "Forgive me, my King." He fawned as the High King turned and walked out of the tent, to leave the decadent Chief to his ways.

The High King continued to walk towards the encampment of Gædryf allies, soldiers who were famed for knowing their way around an axe like the Norþyk knew the sword. For that, Ægrych could respect them, and as High King, he was a symbol that they could respect and adore, a King sent from Adymæryð herself. The surrounded the High King and Housecarls and marched with them as they marched further towards the serfs' camp. A battle was to commence on such a clear day.

Nyrn Vyd, Norþyk clan

Several ships were being prepared, settlers that would go to the island of the east entered them and were ready for a new life in a new land. They awaited the departure that would happen shortly.

[Molvaniia]

The Cossacks would walk up a path that goes up a cliff, they see the heavily armored men and give them a wave, one of them walks forward, scrawny old man with a cut long beard and a Cossack Kubanka, and says "Hello? are you a human like us?" in Middle Irish/Gaoidhealg. the Man was a Scholar, and he must've read about the Language, and learned about it. The guards, feeling like the natives were going to attack, Molvanskian knights (Same ones that accompanied the Tsar) formed a protective position, Presented their arms, and did a ritual, yelling "Աստված մեծ է! (The Tsar is Great)" in an aggressive way. their Face plates would make them seem hellish ghouls. The Man would stand in the ranks of the soldiers, continuing to ask them the same question in Middle Irish/Gaoidhealg.

[Ifaltannia]

The Encapment, Seather Territory

~

The Queen's Regiment had now taken up base in the old Seather encampment but soon arguments spewed from the commanders tents.There was much debate between the commanders over what to do regarding reinforcements. Lorisa and the right flank commander, Owain, argued the regiment had no choice but to wait. But the left flank commander, Govannon, repeatedly petitioned for the regiment to keep moving. This debate carried on for days but it soon became clear the regiment would be waiting for reinforcements. This would be for the best, but not in the way Lorisa would of thought.

In the dawn of the next morning, the silence was broken by a powerful scream. Instantly the men and commanders knew that the Seather reinforcements had arrived, far earlier than expected. Lorisa turned to Owain. "Get all of the men of the right flank and move them on the walls." In a hurry he simply said. "Yes, ma'am!"She then turned her attention to Govannon. "Get all the men of the left flank and guard the outside of the gates." Govannon gave her a quick salute and gathered his men. Lorisa then turned her attention to her troops. "Men of the Centre, we will be split on the left and right walls, be ready to fire arrows and launch spears on my command!"

Before long the Seathers began their charge. Owain shouted "Arrow fire, now!" A first volley of arrows severely damaged their charge. "Second Volley!" With most of the charging unit at the gates, Owains unit was now locked in a bloodbath. In the heat of the moment, Lorisa called for 500 of her men to attack the charging force from behind. The Seathers were now stuck in between two forces viciously pushing into them. While Owain's force was occupied a second charging force began to run towards the encampment. This force however was far smaller than the first Seathers. Lorisa and Govannon called for their men to open fire. Within the time of two volleys being fired, the force had been obliterated.

The regiment stayed on alert for the rest of the day, expecting a new attack. However now it was clear, they would have to wait for reinforcements. The Queen's Regiment numbered only about 4,000.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Coasts of Umhaill, 2AM

The bright moon shined on Domnall's face as he coldly looked over to the group of guards lining around the settlers. Why feature such a dominant military force? What kind of settlers were these people, that they had heavy infantry around them to shield them? Something wasn't quite right about this situation.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small old man. The man would have grey hair and a long beard. The most notable feature about the elderly man was his Cossack hat, which looked odd on such an old man. He looked down to him from his horse, and tried to make out what he was saying.

It took him a few seconds to understand the words. They were Gaoidhelg words, a language that wasn't really common. He hadn't heard Gaoidhelg words for a long time. He tried to make out the meaning of the words that the old repeated, and genuinely did his best to reach a proper translation.

The earl didn't really look around or move. He simply unsheathed his shortsword, and skidded it along his right arm. The sword left a small wound, revealing blood to the cossacks. This move surprised both the earl's men and the czar's. The small amount of blood that dripped down the earl's arm hit the green hill on which they were standing.

"Táimid daonna. Táimid ag bleed, grá agus a chomhrac mar a dhéanann tú." (We're human, we bleed, love and fight just like you do.)

"Inis dom, cad a dhéanann tú ar mo aillte?" (Tell me, what are you doing on my cliffs?)

Domnall still held his shortsword in his left hand. The group of cossacks stared at him, not sure of what he just said. Some of his men did as well, especially those who couldn't speak Middle Irish.

"Tagann tú ó i bhfad. Cén fáth ar tháinig tú anseo, go dtí deireadh an domhain?" (You come from far. Why did you come here, to the end of the world?)

Domnall saw the man trying to cope with the difficult words, and especially with Domnall's harsh and ugly pronounciations of the language. He hadn't spoken it in a long time, and his aboriginal language, Umhaillish, was a very barbaric sort of language, with short, loud words, that have rough pronounciations. The cossacks were visually confused by this savage tongue that Domnall spoke. The earl looked at the warriors opposing him. They'd be immobile with their thick armour and heavy swords. Outmatched by the speed and swiftness of his horsemen. Domnall hated outsiders, and didn't want to give them an ounce of land. Settlers were a very common sight, seeing that it was suicidal to drift around these cliffs and their treacherous waters without properly knowing the landscape. Domnall still held his sword, and he had lost his attention for the old man. He was now staring one of the infantrymen straight in the eyes. The dark of the night didn't allow him to see his face, but the staring and smiling was still a bit of challenge for the guards. The earl would be waiting for a response.

[Molvaniia]

(Image)
Coasts of Umhaill, 2AM

The bright moon shined on Domnall's face as he coldly looked over to the group of guards lining around the settlers. Why feature such a dominant military force? What kind of settlers were these people, that they had heavy infantry around them to shield them? Something wasn't quite right about this situation.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small old man. The man would have grey hair and a long beard. The most notable feature about the elderly man was his Cossack hat, which looked odd on such an old man. He looked down to him from his horse, and tried to make out what he was saying.

It took him a few seconds to understand the words. They were Gaoidhelg words, a language that wasn't really common. He hadn't heard Gaoidhelg words for a long time. He tried to make out the meaning of the words that the old repeated, and genuinely did his best to reach a proper translation.

The earl didn't really look around or move. He simply unsheathed his shortsword, and skidded it along his right arm. The sword left a small wound, revealing blood to the cossacks. This move surprised both the earl's men and the czar's. The small amount of blood that dripped down the earl's arm hit the green hill on which they were standing.

"Táimid daonna. Táimid ag bleed, grá agus a chomhrac mar a dhéanann tú." (We're human, we bleed, love and fight just like you do.)

"Inis dom, cad a dhéanann tú ar mo aillte?" (Tell me, what are you doing on my cliffs?)

Domnall still held his shortsword in his left hand. The group of cossacks stared at him, not sure of what he just said. Some of his men did as well, especially those who couldn't speak Middle Irish.

"Tagann tú ó i bhfad. Cén fáth ar tháinig tú anseo, go dtí deireadh an domhain?" (You come from far. Why did you come here, to the end of the world?)

Domnall saw the man trying to cope with the difficult words, and especially with Domnall's harsh and ugly pronounciations of the language. He hadn't spoken it in a long time, and his aboriginal language, Umhaillish, was a very barbaric sort of language, with short, loud words, that have rough pronounciations. The cossacks were visually confused by this savage tongue that Domnall spoke. The earl looked at the warriors opposing him. They'd be immobile with their thick armour and heavy swords. Outmatched by the speed and swiftness of his horsemen. Domnall hated outsiders, and didn't want to give them an ounce of land. Settlers were a very common sight, seeing that it was suicidal to drift around these cliffs and their treacherous waters without properly knowing the landscape. Domnall still held his sword, and he had lost his attention for the old man. He was now staring one of the infantrymen straight in the eyes. The dark of the night didn't allow him to see his face, but the staring and smiling was still a bit of challenge for the guards. The earl would be waiting for a response.

~

The Man speaks again, "We have come to seek other civilizations like ours, and we have found what we were looking for." the Man turns around and barks an order to the Guards in Molvanskian, an incomprehensible language to the natives. The guards sheath their swords and lift their face visors.
The Old man takes off his hat and approaches Domnall, he kneels to him. He'd get up and put his hat back on. "We've lost our way, may we stay here until sundown?" The old man would say. "We will not cause any trouble to your or any of your people, I swear upon the Tsar." the Old man would continue.

The Cossack settlers unsheath their Cossack Sabres, take off their hats and kneel to the Natives, the Cossack Sailors chant a Molvanskian Chant. "Երկնքից մինչեւ այդ ժայռեր, թող Աստված օրհնի քեզ: (From the heavens to these cliffs, may God bless thee!)". The Settlers sheath their swords again and put their hats back on. Although the natives of the island had no clue what this meant, the Cossacks were giving them a blessing of trust among them.

[Ifaltannia]

The Sacking Of The Seather Capital, Lekkras

~

The scent of smoke hit Lorisa, the sounds of burning complemented the war cries of the Queen's Regiment. The speeding chariots raced past her, moving her has as if it was weightless. Each step she took on the ruined path felt like walking on spikes more than a road. The town looked deserted. The town of Lekkras was aflame, the beacon of the Seather civilisation now looked to be no more than a ruin. The Seather leadership had been forced into exile and soon the territory was to be annexed. She had done what her Father couldn't. The citizens of the town fled in horror, the guards of the town were long dead. The regiment had taken casualties, but now nothing stood in the way of complete victory. Anything in the town of any value was taken from buildings before being set ablaze or destroyed.

As her soldiers plundered the town she took a moment to herself. She thought of her father, this was the goal he had set himself. When Lorisa took the throne, few had faith that this goal would be achieved, hell few believed she would even unite the Wosrac peninsular. Rumours were about that the Kingdom was days away from collapse. But here she stood, she had not only proved them wrong, she had proved them fools. The only territories in the way of realising her fathers dream were tribes in the southeast. She had proven that she was a strong Queen and capable commander, now she only needed to prove that the rest of the Wosracan tribes would fall in line. Judging by her success, her citizens believed in her, now she just needed to get to the task ahead.

[Firaxin]

Cratornan got up from the dirt. I slept in the dirt again! "Loser!" A man called from some distance down the road. He began to follow the man.

"Hey! Stop following me!" The man throws a rock at him, but Cratornan charges the guy. Taking out a dagger he stabs the man in the gut. The man screams in pain and begins punching him. Cratornan throws the man to side and slices the back of his knee open. The man screams and falls to the ground. Cratornan stabs him again and again and again. He mutilates the corpse and leaves in the middle of the road as he continues to Firaxi.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

While the others around him looked at the heathen settlers in shock, Domnall smiled.
The cool wind would graze his skin, and he'd smell the ocean in all its beauty. The cossacks had layed down their arms. This wouldn't be a sign of capitulation. That'd be far too soon. It must've been a sign of friendship or good will.

The earl thought to himself, thinking about what backclash he could suffer from letting in foreign settlers. He couldn't just murder them all. That'd be a sign of cowardice and weakness, and the gods wouldn't approve. He couldn't give them a tour of his lands either, because he was sure that they were going to return. These green hills and fertile lands must've meant something to them. Domnall considered the fact that their "tsar" would be in awe of them. He'd be rich, with the tsar personally thanking him for his hospitality.

Domnall rapidly thought of something, and looked at a companion of his, Gearoid. Gearoid mac Glenn was a childhood friend of Domnall, and now owned a piece of land on the coast. He was the leader of the community that Hruodolf the shepherd ran off to looking for help. If he housed these refugees, then they wouldn't have to walk too far, most citizens would not see the settlers, and the settlers would be happy. Domnall was sure of it.

Domnall raised his arms in the air, with the blade still being in his left hand. He looked at the cossacks, with a bright smile on his face.

"Tabharfaidh mé foscadh, bia agus fáilteachas duit. Oibreoidh mo dhaoine le do chuid féin, agus ní dhéanfaidh ár ndaoine dearmad ar chuimhní inniu."
(I will give you shelter, food and hospitality. My people will work with your own, and our people will not forget today's memories.)

He then tidely slided his shortsword back into its case, and energetically ordered his horse to turn, while laughing and smiling at the settlers.

[Molvaniia]

~

With the acceptance of the Settlers from the Natives, the Cossacks chop down a tree and set up a small camp, there would be some log benches and a campfire, One of the Cossacks has a Balalaika is playing "Lutenblag Nights" with the rest of the Cossacks singing along. They prepared some lamb they had hunted in some nearby woods and prepared Shashlik. The Warriors, without their armor sit and stare into the fire. One child is with the group and is playing some sort of game with his father.

The Fire would glow throughout the Morning, and with one Cossack near the fire sharpening the sabres on a large rock. they shall wait til' the morning when they shall conduct a sermon.

[Andsed]

King Raymee Drak rode on his horse through the mighty city of Tak. He arrived at the gate where around 9,000 troops were waiting. They were planning to march to their borders and to take over some extremely fertile land. It was perfect for farming and hunting having many rivers that created nice rich soil and had attracted many animals. Only one problem multiple tribes were located there and they were not going to give up the land. The tribe had denied their offer and had assembled a force of around 3,000 men. They were currently in village called Monmouth at the edge of their border and if they took them out the land would be theirs. They also knew the army would be staying there for a couple of weeks resting. So Raymee singled to his men to begin the march and they began the long march to Monmouth.

This is the land I will be taking attacking.

The land is colored black.

[Firaxin]

Year 199, Day 35, Season 2

Hux had become more worried. The army had reported dying soldiers in the knight. From the corpses look they were stabbed. Even their best had seemed to covered in wounds. Hux believed that it was his adversaries finally attempting to overthrow him. The soldiers knew better however, too little were being killed for it to be a group. But why would a criminal kill the people that protect the person that will heal him no matter what? Something was very wrong. Reports near the Volcano told it was slowly waking. They noticed a partial pockets of lava quite a bit up the mountain. The Volcano did not awake when there was a leader unless a great evil had come.

[Molvaniia]

While we have reached the coast at last, the Settlers that were on the Island across the Channel have come back and sent East to settle new land for the Empire. The Settlers, are accompanied by the same guards, but with an extra ten. The Settlers, travelling a long-distance road east, follow the coast, although they do meet tribes along the way, in which they trade for food and other commodities.

[Sivio]

"Steady as she goes, my son," said King Siphon Crehonerex II. "I don't want to have to pay for a a new ship.... again." Currently, the King and his heir, Prince Meison Crehonerex, were just outside the Danvers City harbor testing what Meison has learned over the past year. They were currently with Grand Admiral Schienth Rodtore. Although tough and hardheaded, Rodtore was worried about Prince Meison's lesson because he failed so many times, and ruined his flagship multiple times. "My son, this may be your best attempt yet," Siphon exclaimed. "Now for the final test: head for the port."

"Men, let's head back to Danvers City," Meison ordered. At that moment, the crew hurried to their positions. "Hopefully I make it this time. We could use some good news, especially after what happened with--" His father stopped him. "Sorry, I know it's tough to talk about, but you can't just ignore this. The funeral is right around the corner. Meanwhile, you're going around to every brothel in the city." Meison straightened up as the ship slowly came into port. The crew, along with the Admiral, clapped for Prince Meison. Rodtore sighed with relief.

"Well done, my Prince," said Rodtore. "You've done well these past two years. Your next test is the Lolftan meditation, correct?" The King started to leave as soon as he saw the carriage.

"Yes, Admiral," Meison replied. "I know how to fight, command the ship, command an army, somewhat know how to rule the kingdom, and now all that's left is to do an in-depth study of Lolftan." Then he headed out with his father. Meison needed to acquire better knowledge of his religion before becoming of age at 16. When the time is right, he will acquire the Life totem from his father. And when his father dies, he will acquire Loftain's totem. It's been like this for generations. "Don't speak of your mother again," the King said. "Or I will disinherit you." The King always said crap to his family but never meant it.