fuk this WORLD
im sorry but im not gonna continue a world that nobody wants to play based solely on the merit of it being a world. I have better shit to do with my time.
Note: Prepare for FE levels of exposition
--
You are in the middle of a sparring match. Just practice really. Another thing to do, let's be honest. You can't recall a day when the you haven't sparred; you've become too good to spar with any of the younger kids.
"Istia and Estern, two of the oldest most historic countries on the continent of Brenalya. Their relationship had some rough patches, but they have always been tight knit allies, most likely due to their inherent proximity. Their relationship had been historically the balance on which rested the peace of the continent, but that balance has since been thrown into disarray. Nobody’s sure who struck the first blow or why, but the war between the two empires has turned the lands into a wasteland. Raiders and looters run rampant in lands once protected by soldiers, and unconfirmed reports of villages burned to pieces with bodies torn to shreds hidden underneath the ash are becoming more commonplace."
You briefly consider having a real fight. Everyone else is out there fighting for what they believe in, and yet here you are, stuck in a castle court refitted to a training ground. Yet calling that would be generous, even; more of a camp. The ratio of young children to adults is 7:0. Becuase there aren't any adults. If they aren't under the age of 10, they're over 60. You're by far the oldest kids there. Or would that be the youngest adults? You catch the eye of one of the paladins, and get back to sparring.
"Yet even through all this, what lies most concerning is the frigid silence from both Gjof, the northern lands dominated by an eternal winter, and Yrens, the eastern nation split between a vast plain and a series of small islands. All this is bad news for Arcaleia, the small nation nestled in between Istia and Estern, sharing borders with both. A traditionally neutral peace loving country, the recent war has forced all available units to the border, both in hopes of fostering a peace agreement, and demonstrating enough force to dissuade either side from conquering them for a territorial advantage."
Strike. Slash. Parry. Repeat. Everyone strikes in the room in unison; children with wooden blades, you, also with wooden blades. Everything made of anything else is given to the watchman, in vain hopes of being able to repel an attack. Everyone had succumbed to the sad realisation that a single attack would cripple everyone ages ago. For most people, it means to train harder, fight harder. For you, it just makes you want to get out there and do something about it.
"That brings the story to Demarre, the bustling capital of Arcaleia. Once the seat of the king and his court, most has since been sent to the borders. As it stands, the army left at the capital is a meager force; a noble here and there, elderly knights too old to be brought back into the war, and barely enough paladins to train the recruits. Sounds like a nice place to start off, wouldn’t you say?"
"Hey, cut it would you? You're distracting people. Get back to training!"
"S-s-sorry..!"
The kid drops the book he was reading out loud onto the floor, and runs off hurriedly. Without his totally-well-intregreted-exposition, the place gets very quiet.
--
...
--
...It only takes a couple of minutes for one of the paladins to call out to you.
"Okay...You two, over here. I have something to ask of you."
The lead paladin, an older man by the name of Roartz, beckons for you to come over. You walk past the groups of children taking turns whacking themselves with wooden sticks, to a secluded corner where he waits. Roartz... A man once named the best jouster in all of Arcaleia, he has been named lead paladin in the absence of the court, for his experience alone. His missing eye, coupled with his whitened hair, walking stick and shrunken form makes you have no doubts as to why he was left behind, though.
"“Now, you know how thin Demarre’s forces have been pushed. We barely have enough people to train the recruits, let alone man the walls, and let alone protect the land we are obliged to. Recruits like you usually have a year more experience, and graduation is usually a grand formal affair, but we have neither the resources nor the time for that.”"
Roartz beckons for his page (the same kid flawlessly integrating the exposition) to bring him his horse. The mare is as old as he is.
"“Of course, I can’t just let you into the world without you proving you’re able first, evidently. I’m sure I’m breaking many codes of conduct, but I haven’t been able to muster a reason against. Help me up.”"
You watch as Roartz struggles onto his horse, seeing how badly his inability to do so unhindered damages his pride. But nonetheless, with each of you and his page helping him, he finally sits upright, reaching for the wooden lance his page extends out to him. Flipping the lance into position, he shuffles the horse towards you. You gulp; even in his state, you can see his ability. You are suddenly very glad you weren’t born 20 years earlier, as the room hushes. Everyone seems to have dropped their toy weapons to watch. One of the younger children even toots an imaginary trumpet for you. Fun.
Battle: Tutorial
Roartz
(totally not placeholder, nope)
INSERT LUI'S CARD HERE (lat plz)
INSERT FP'S CARD HERE (lat plz)
--
Well that was a text dump. Anyway, according to grandmaester lat, i'll be taking on lui and fp. Considering my confidence in some people's abilities in hosting, i'm not gonna be suprised if that changes soon(ish). But for now, lui and fp, go ahead and do the fight stuffs.
Please dont murder me.
Later.im sorry but im not gonna continue a world that nobody wants to play based solely on the merit of it being a world. I have better shit to do with my time.
Note: Prepare for FE levels of exposition
--
You are in the middle of a sparring match. Just practice really. Another thing to do, let's be honest. You can't recall a day when the you haven't sparred; you've become too good to spar with any of the younger kids.
"Istia and Estern, two of the oldest most historic countries on the continent of Brenalya. Their relationship had some rough patches, but they have always been tight knit allies, most likely due to their inherent proximity. Their relationship had been historically the balance on which rested the peace of the continent, but that balance has since been thrown into disarray. Nobody’s sure who struck the first blow or why, but the war between the two empires has turned the lands into a wasteland. Raiders and looters run rampant in lands once protected by soldiers, and unconfirmed reports of villages burned to pieces with bodies torn to shreds hidden underneath the ash are becoming more commonplace."
You briefly consider having a real fight. Everyone else is out there fighting for what they believe in, and yet here you are, stuck in a castle court refitted to a training ground. Yet calling that would be generous, even; more of a camp. The ratio of young children to adults is 7:0. Becuase there aren't any adults. If they aren't under the age of 10, they're over 60. You're by far the oldest kids there. Or would that be the youngest adults? You catch the eye of one of the paladins, and get back to sparring.
"Yet even through all this, what lies most concerning is the frigid silence from both Gjof, the northern lands dominated by an eternal winter, and Yrens, the eastern nation split between a vast plain and a series of small islands. All this is bad news for Arcaleia, the small nation nestled in between Istia and Estern, sharing borders with both. A traditionally neutral peace loving country, the recent war has forced all available units to the border, both in hopes of fostering a peace agreement, and demonstrating enough force to dissuade either side from conquering them for a territorial advantage."
Strike. Slash. Parry. Repeat. Everyone strikes in the room in unison; children with wooden blades, you, also with wooden blades. Everything made of anything else is given to the watchman, in vain hopes of being able to repel an attack. Everyone had succumbed to the sad realisation that a single attack would cripple everyone ages ago. For most people, it means to train harder, fight harder. For you, it just makes you want to get out there and do something about it.
"That brings the story to Demarre, the bustling capital of Arcaleia. Once the seat of the king and his court, most has since been sent to the borders. As it stands, the army left at the capital is a meager force; a noble here and there, elderly knights too old to be brought back into the war, and barely enough paladins to train the recruits. Sounds like a nice place to start off, wouldn’t you say?"
"Hey, cut it would you? You're distracting people. Get back to training!"
"S-s-sorry..!"
The kid drops the book he was reading out loud onto the floor, and runs off hurriedly. Without his totally-well-intregreted-exposition, the place gets very quiet.
--
...
--
...It only takes a couple of minutes for one of the paladins to call out to you.
"Okay...You two, over here. I have something to ask of you."
The lead paladin, an older man by the name of Roartz, beckons for you to come over. You walk past the groups of children taking turns whacking themselves with wooden sticks, to a secluded corner where he waits. Roartz... A man once named the best jouster in all of Arcaleia, he has been named lead paladin in the absence of the court, for his experience alone. His missing eye, coupled with his whitened hair, walking stick and shrunken form makes you have no doubts as to why he was left behind, though.
"“Now, you know how thin Demarre’s forces have been pushed. We barely have enough people to train the recruits, let alone man the walls, and let alone protect the land we are obliged to. Recruits like you usually have a year more experience, and graduation is usually a grand formal affair, but we have neither the resources nor the time for that.”"
Roartz beckons for his page (the same kid flawlessly integrating the exposition) to bring him his horse. The mare is as old as he is.
"“Of course, I can’t just let you into the world without you proving you’re able first, evidently. I’m sure I’m breaking many codes of conduct, but I haven’t been able to muster a reason against. Help me up.”"
You watch as Roartz struggles onto his horse, seeing how badly his inability to do so unhindered damages his pride. But nonetheless, with each of you and his page helping him, he finally sits upright, reaching for the wooden lance his page extends out to him. Flipping the lance into position, he shuffles the horse towards you. You gulp; even in his state, you can see his ability. You are suddenly very glad you weren’t born 20 years earlier, as the room hushes. Everyone seems to have dropped their toy weapons to watch. One of the younger children even toots an imaginary trumpet for you. Fun.
Roartz
(totally not placeholder, nope)
INSERT LUI'S CARD HERE (lat plz)
INSERT FP'S CARD HERE (lat plz)
--
Well that was a text dump. Anyway, according to grandmaester lat, i'll be taking on lui and fp. Considering my confidence in some people's abilities in hosting, i'm not gonna be suprised if that changes soon(ish). But for now, lui and fp, go ahead and do the fight stuffs.
Please dont murder me.