StarDestroyer.Net BBS

The short version of what happened is that all three Barons moved a high proportion of their ready fighting forces to sieze an ancient underground fortress, highly magical and thought lost; it had revealed itself as it seemed to be needed- but it also was there to serve the traditional purpose of a fortress, to keep something at bay.

The damage to the surface was done, the Twentieth Cataphract came and went like a whirlwind, but the three Barons in the shelter- hold underground had managed, actually it was primarily deMarail who needs must carry most of the blame, to find and antagonise the creatures it had originally been built, ages ago, to suppress and contain.

They had become trapped in there, far outlasting their supplies; and the tale from that point becomes one of desperation and privation, angry monsters pounding on the walls, the ancient archanisms of the fort being teased and coaxed to give them what little sustenance was possible- the three barons fell out among themselves, having gone in as enemies in any case; each trying to drag the other two down to hell with him.

It was shaping towards disaster, and well on the way- more than two in three of those who went in died there in all truth- before people from the outside- and a small band of local scouts contracted to the Twentieth Cataphract at that- managed to break in.

Their first plan, an openly suicidal bid to draw the chieftain of the monsters off and away deep into his own caverns and allow the people Dale's talking to to escape, failed- they did it, managed to run for their lives and get back to find the assembled many had been too scared to make a break for it.

There was another shameful business involving a human sacrifice to appease the monster- and there the tale gets very confused indeed. Quite who was doing it, nobody seems prepared to admit to.

They should have starved to death; but they didn't, and the person most to credit for that is Lisanna, who managed to coax enough food and water out of the fortress to hold them together. Should ahve been killed by the monsters- and the person most to credit for that, who doesn't count as a monster themselves at least (and that may be debatable) was Aburon, the leader of the scouting party and apparently a follower of the old druidic faith and ex officio an outlaw.

None of them think they have done as well as they should have, morally as much as physically; all of them have things that were less than noble to their name.

Rohal is, well himself; not mixing much, mainlyu staying close to the party, and seems to smell something moving out there in the darkness. Not hostle, not necessarily, so probably not elvish, but- interesting.


The elf has to be force fed, but as he is- this will take a couple of hours anway- starts to curl up into a foetal ball and mumble in Elvish. Bitter and miserable, although making more sense than previously; "How could we have been so stupid..." is in there.

Panzersharkcat? What's Alfred, the one supposedly of rank, you know, that, doing?

He looks at the elf and says, "Shut up and eat." Then he answers the Baron's summons. He takes his position near the front of him, kneeling. "What is thy bidding, my lord?"

(OOC: OK, he's not as tall as Darth Vader not is the Baron an evil wizard who shoots lightning out of his fingers but I couldn't resist."

The Baron isn't, no. Countess Calvern is another matter entirely.

He is also slightly disturbed by that, expecting something a little less melodramatic; recovers quickly though. I've actually forgotten where Alfred's family have their lands; he wouldn't, but I have, so 'Your family has holdings in [wherever Lillehammer is], do they not? How do they stand, granaries full, peasants loyal?'

(OOC: I don't actually remember defining where his lands are. They're somewhere in the north of Qulan, let's just say.)

"Aye, my lord. We keep our granaries well-stocked in the event of siege or famine. If those are to feed an army of this size alone, however, I reckon it would not last for long. I am assuming that is not the case, however. The peasants are loyal. Father has always emphasized the need for keeping the peasantry happy and fed. He says keeping them that way ensures that we stay up here as well. If we strain their food supplies excessively, however, it could get ugly."

(OOC: Looking up grains that would grow in northern climes. I'm assuming Lillehammer would produce rye, barley, and oats. Probably beets and cabbage for vegetables. I'd mention Alfred's father searching for ways to improve crop productivity but not sure if the idea of crop rotation has caught on yet, though.)

On the western side of the Orhan Hills, looking down on the fertile strip between the hills and the forested foothills of Mount Honeycomb? Makes sense- also means you're not actually all that far from home.

'Not why I ask.' deVerett says. 'By my reckoning more than half of the lords and nobles of the barony are no longer with us, dead or broken in body or spirit. That leaves much for those who are fit and willing to do. Your western neighbour, de Berrey, died- leaving I believe a three year old son. Clearly not fit to take on the responsibility.

'You will take their lands in trust for the duration of the boy's childhood, manage them as though they were your own. My clerks will draw up a document to that effect in the morning.'

"We shall treat him as our own kin."

(OOC: I don't remember if it was mentioned if Alfred had any siblings or not. I know he has Ridebert, who's really his half-brother. If it was never mentioned, then he has a younger brother and sister. Sister would be in her early teens. Brother would be a scholarly type, like his father. Should be around 18 or so.)

OOC:

That's very noble; do bear in mind that Alfred is actually rather clever and just had the baron randomly decide to effectively double the size of his father's domain for the next ten to fifteen years. Even assuming noble-minded estate management, that's a hell of a bonus.

OOC: Sweet deal for Sir Alfred. Of course... the Baron did just bind you that much closer to him with the gesture. He seems even handed and pretty competent... but that might just be because you guys have been on the helpful side to him so far.

"We shall treat him as our own kin."

Why would you be so mean to the poor kid?

As it appears that the child has no other family members; “When we get man child?”
looking around for a big stick.
“Dirt need tool for teaching”

Dirt is looking forward to growing a human as per the countess’s instructions. With an Ogre, werewolf, semi legit alchemist mage, and a travelling knight I’m sure the kid will turn out to be totally well adjusted for society.....

Think that poses problems? Imagine how Aburon and Lisanna's children are going to work out...

It is a fairly muted reaction from Alfred, and it's certainly not going to be without practical problems- but he isn't the only one. There are a lot of widows (and widowers) and orphans, a lot of land without leaders; there is going to be some shuffling going on, there needs to be, and Alfred doesn't really know what he's got without going there. Hm.

Tamarin is there too, by the way.


Dale is right to be suspicious; look at it this way- all three Barons went into the fortress as enemies. While in there they generally lived up to that. deVerett came away with a lot more of his people still vertical than the other two did- it's not absolutely certain that Kardren even made it out. He has more men alive than the other two. Think the next year or so is going to be peaceful?

There is a scent of death and dusty spirits about him too, of what he cheated, what happened on his watch and what may be about to happen.

"I am not taking a screaming three-year-old child with me. That would be dangerous for his health. He will stay with my father."

OOC
ECR - whats the general 'life path' of an ogre. I'm assuming that they go from birth to semi adulthood a lot faster than other humanoids.

Ogres, like most of the general family of genus uruk, mature quite quickly but in a manner that would give a human biologist nightmares.

Compared to an Elf with almost total, deliberate control over their biological processes (until something goes wrong in the head), and with the humans somewhere down the scale with lots of far beneath conscious level but still there controls over cell reproduction and mutation, Ogres are way at the other end of the scale; it's as if orcoid biology had the equivalent of a mid life crisis and decided one day to sod the office job, screw protocol, it was just going to go for it and see what happened.

Ogres grow and reproduce cells with relatively little error checking by human standards, and what they lose in a very high rate of biological eccentricity (what circumstances would natural- select for very low mutation resistance?) gain in speed of growth; wierdly, they get round some of the problems of body dysmorphia through the fact that their brain is still growing through adolescence, the mind- body map developing as it goes.

Ogre growth isn't entirely predictable- also, unlike humans, they tend to snowball in size, growing slowly for the first few years, then increasingly rapidly, only tailing off towards the end- more or less a third of their height and half their body weight is accrued around the ages of ten and eleven, tailing off to more or less their final- ish form around twelve. (Unlike trolls, who grow slowly but keep going; you could argue that a troll is basically a stable, well differentiated cancer, and not be proven wrong.)

Long term health and lifespan are something of a crapshoot; the main threats are internal, they're quite good at fending off everything except themselves. Forty to fifty is the median, but a lucky ogre could make the quarter- millennium with a following wind.

"Is there anything else you need done, my lord?"

(OOC: Not sure if I was supposed to continue or not. Just doing so the thread doesn't die.)

Nothing seems to happen over the weekends- I just decided to leave it be this time, not chase it, not prod you, see how long it was before anybody actually did post.

This does not make me a happy plot- herder. I need to do less, and give the group room to do more- make me react to you, do stuff off your own bat, break out of situations and go looking for your own trouble.


'You're taking this very calmly.' deVerett says to Alfred, and you can tell he's wondering why. Says nothing more about it for the moment, but the wheels are turning. 'Not for the moment.'

The rest of the night; there's a bit of elf to resolve, but apart from that-
I asked, a few posts ago, who was still up at 2.30 AM. That wasn't actually an out of character comment. What are you, what is everyone, doing in the dead of night? Anyone on watch? Anyone not able to sleep, expecting trouble, what?

OOC:

Sorry, Larric's not really at home in politics, doesn't have much to fight for in the baron's court and wouldn't know the players if he did. The others- I can't speak for them.

But, yes- it's very tricky to pursue our own schemes and goals when we're constantly caught between multiple large forces that are stronger than we are and have much better knowledge of the surrounding political and military terrain.

Also, tired and busy- I'm having to be choosy what I do for fun, I can't spare more than an hour or two a day.

IC:

Larric's a pretty good candidate for that- the nights are long, we weren't up that late, and if there's any lodgings left in the village he'll make a try for them. Something to keep any random snowdrifts off his bedroll, at least.

If it becomes truly difficult to find a place to sleep, Larric's going to find Dirt and see if the ogre can vacate a small domicile of the freshly quartered men-at-arms by glowering. That should work.

However, by some time around two thirds of the way through the night, Larric is likely to be stirring. Probably not deliberately on watch, but he's less tired than almost any of the men-at-arms- a long walk, but that's about the worst of it. And he's had better rations overall.

It's at least plausible, although far from certaint that he would be. I don't think of him as an especially heavy sleeper.

Let's see what happens after this, then; if anybody wants to do anything political- it's possible to discern three main factions, which the Baron himself is staying studiedly above and out of; all of whom need information, and may come to bother you considerably.
Dirt knows little or nothing about what they want to know about, Dale keeps getting fragments bubbling to the surface; a placename sparks an image, a feeling, a flash of memory- but nothing solid, nothing connects. He can listen to a great deal, but not much to say. Alfred and Larric, though- once people start making sense again, they will be busy fending off daft questions.

The groups that are emerging seem to be the embarrassed, around the senior surviving knight, one Guilbert Whinby, and they may be looking for something honourable to hit to redeem themselves.
There are the terrified, all trying not to admit it, the scarred and traumatised and depressed, of whom there are more than would ever acknowledge it- who don't want to do anything, who want to curl up and make the world go away. Not going to get it, in all likelihood. Figurehead is the acting chamberlain- protocol officer, basically. Tamarin's father was his predecessor in the job. Anyone doing anything about that?
The third broad coalition constitute the worried, who want essentially to get themselves back together,then worry about the rest of the world. Nobody particularly in charge, starting to take shape though.


Around half two in the morning, from the place on the horizon roughly where the elves should be, there's a bright flash that grows into a steady glow, below the horizon and reflecting back down off the clouds. A faint but growing howl, not the wind. Some smaller flared. Rumbles as of thunder.

Anyone reacting?


Oh, and now that people in green are starting to worry about thread length, we'll probably have to migrate soon; say at the end of this page, I'll start a new thread and begin posting there.

With luck that's the elf problem sorted then......
Either way Dirt will roll back to sleep, it can wait till morning as there's not much he can do about it at the moment.

OC - will you post a link when we jump threads?

Dale was sleeping, although lightly given his general uneasiness with the people surrounding the Baron and the Baron himself. At the sound of the howl, Dale will raise himself to wakefulness and and generally look toward the apparent source. Rumbles... rumbles are not good. This appears to be magic if ever anything was. He'll move to any of the others he can spot, ready to act, but uncertain as to what should happen.

He is a man out of place and trying to find a purpose which keeps dancing just beyond his conscious recognition.

OOC:

The elf problem is now either solved... or antisolved.

Also, wait... Sir Geoffroye, the late chamberlain, was Dame Tamarin's father?

Christ. She just can't get a break...

IC:

Larric aims to be polite and informative to the daft questioners, especially the ones who seem to be tracking reasonably well.

The belligerent ones, he tries to point at the problem of the Carfax infiltration in the south first, and possibly the militant Alanavirimire refugees if that doesn't work.

The worried ones, he tries to cultivate as potential future business contacts- make an impression, seem like a level-headed man in un-level times.

The shell-shocked ones, he tries to handle in a relatively pleasant, respectful way, trying to encourage them like he would any other poor sad near-madman*.

Any specific examples coming to mind?


That brilliant flash- Larric's supernatural radar is immediately up and scanning, trying to identify what it might have been and what signature it might have, if any. Does it feel elvish-ish? Countess-ish? Whoknows-ish?

Considering the new thread's likely to be further up the page, a link back from that to this would probably make more sense, but yes.

Dirt's in bed, and declining to get up; Fifi isn't nocturnal, so nothing happening there.

Rohal, unless someone physically stops him, is going to be gone- heading in the direction of the noise.


Slight misunderstanding- Tamarin's father had the job before Geoffroye, the man who has now died. She knew the recently deceased chamberlain, of course- but basically she was brought up at court, should have turned into a politician and schemer and conniver, but opposites attracted and she went off into the wilderness with a country knight- put herself out of the running for the position.


Larric can try to make sense of the flares on the horizon, there are several, spell and counterspell, through his own magic- and it looks as if there are at least three separate casters, three separate styles and idioms anway; one is vaguely familiar, fast and blurtish- a lot of complexity happening all at once and nearly tripping over itself, one is cool and elegant but obviously starting to wobble at the edges (could be elvish, if they're not too far gone), and the third is- extraordinary. Piled on and looped around itself, seems to happen many times at the same time- watching it is like suffering a multiple regress of deja vu. And there are wolf- howls on the wind, too.

Dale ends up watching the fireworks with Larric; several cloud-to-ground lightning bolts from a sky that should not be generating them. People starting to react, realising there's a problem.

I'll open the new thread now, just in case. It's http://bbs.stardestroyer.net/viewtopic. ... 4&t=156248.

Post by Simon_Jester deleted upon request by said user, thread locked upon request as well.