Rites of Conquest (Not Accepting)

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Prompt

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You and five others are people, like most others. Unlike most others, however, you have ambitions. You have plans. When you see the country you live in, you see scattered, unorganized villages who can't even manage their own resources properly. For one reason or another, you think that you could do better. Be it hunger for power, self-preservation or your rare ability to cast magical spells, you decide to unite the various small villages under one name and banner, yours.


Setting

Spoiler
To the north, tall, imposing mountains rise, cold and bleak during the summer, freezing and snow-covered in winter. Few can live in those Peaks of the North. Southwards, the weather gradually becomes milder, sharp rocks and harsh steppes turning into lush grasslands, lightly forested in places. Villages dot the landscape at every turn: on a clear day standing from a hill, it is possible to see many wisps of smoke rise up from distant fireplaces. To the east, dozens of small rivers snake their way into the land from the sea, bringing abundant fauna. Floods are rare but dangerous. In places, the rivers cross so thickly grass became mud and marsh, but some swamp-dwellers make their homes on wooden palisades there.


Magic
Spoiler
Magic is cast through rituals -- any collective activity done by a plethora of people. These rituals can be anything, look like anything (as long as there's a pattern, otherwise it's not a ritual), and have any result (although most mages prefer some particular magical style they are used to). Thus, to cast magic, one must command, instruct, or otherwise influence the masses. Spell power is measured in the number of people used in that spell's ritual. The caster counts as 1 person. Spell power is measured in how much the spell can affect, using an adult human as a base unit of measurement (see examples below). People are not harmed by these rituals, although a less scrupulous mage may elect to sacrifice their lives for three times the magical energy. Magic can also be stored in amulets, which may be charged at the time of the ritual. Thus, a mage does not need to bring an entire army with him every time he would want to cast the spell.


Examples:
-A 1-person fireball is enough to kill 1 person.
-A 1-person explosion is therefore about the strength of 1 grenade.
-A 1-person strength boosting spell will make the caster twice as strong; 2 person spell would result in 3 times, etc.
-A 1-person summoning spell will result in a creature as strong as 1 person, as tough as 1 person, and if it can cast spells, it will only cast 1-person spells.
-Any 1-person spell has the range of about 2 meters. The range increases by 2 meters as the number of people used to cast the spell increases.

Restrictions:
-Mind control on humans is not allowed.
Restrictions will be added when/if necessary


The Rules

Spoiler
No profiles are required to join this SB; instead, you must post a scene in which your character takes over or effectively leads a village. This scene is meant as both an introduction for your character (be descriptive!) and as a way for you to start out with a settlement to control. The village which your character takes over is yours to manage, name, and do as you please with it. However, the starting village can't be larger than about two-hundred people.
No godmodding.
No Mary Sues/Gary Lou's. Even though there is no profile, try to keep your character consistent in personality and appearance.
Use the DT for OOC discussion; feel free to ask questions about this SB there, but please, do not post OOC in the SB.


Link to DT.
Last edited by Caesar on Tue Dec 18, 2012 9:21 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Eirene Dismas


My brothers eyes widened as he fell to the ground, still grasping my wrist as my nails dug into his neck. His pleading grey eyes rolled into his skull and he fell limp against the stone wall of an unmarked tunnel, one of the many desolate and rat ridden catacombs that formed a labyrinth underneath the Principality of Eir in the kingdom of Belenos. Though my parents, the former nobility, had tried to reform Belenos when they ruled, the treacherous underground was still ridden with the filth they had overlooked.

I pulled my slender blade from between his ribs and pushed him to the ground. In all of his finery and arrogant airs this is all he had amounted to. Just an anonymous corpse laying by thousands of other long forgotten bones. And to think my parents had named him heir just because of our birth order. But then again, I suppose 45 minutes really does count. That's all the time it took for me to complete the coup and overthrow him and his entire Cabinet. Even with their combined efforts of their Northern Lights and Ice magic they were nothing compared to our greater force and skill. This day was a culmination of months of secret meetings, and serpentine propaganda that slowly and surely convinced the people of Belenos that my brother, Grand Prince Leos, was unfit for rule.

It was fascinating how similar we were and yet how different. When I looked at him I recognized, almost fondly, the feathery white blonde hair that was greying though we had only just had our 27th birthday. His clear grey eyes that were now clouded over had once matched mine and his slender and pointed features that looked imposing on his otherwise unremarkable frame were similar to mine. We were both strong and had survived the plague that devastated Belenos when we were only 12. The difference was that I was more ambitious, more charismatic and much cleverer - someone the people were much more willing to follow in this time of renaissance.

I made my way back to the manor, my manor, slowly, savoring the adrenaline that still pulsed through my veins. I left my bloody coat covering my twin brothers body and the icy wind that was common in the mountainous Demodara landscape. Our people were tough and hardened to the frigid conditions that we had lived under for centuries as we built our expansive mountain empire. However, the plague and the longer winters had created some difficult times.

My brother was a disgusting and treasonous fool who horded food and supplies from our people in his glorious abode that's walls of thick ice glittered with warm lights and fire, as they starved and froze in their small homes of drafty stone and rotting wood. And then he had the nerve to try to marry me off to a Plains merchant with four wives already and a corrupt business. I was the only thing that had held the kingdom together and kept our people from revolt while he danced and courted pretty Lord's daughters who always had one hand in his wallet. I did what I had to do.

I met Deimos, my chief adviser, at the gates surrounding Eir. Though Eir was one of many small principalities scattered throughout Belenos, our people once had dreams of expansion. It seemed so quiet, deathly so, though I remembered as a child, before the plague had hit, that the blue stoned streets had bustled with cheerful people in thick furs. My parents themselves would lead my brother and I through them, cheeks warm and smiles wide. And this was all that left of our once beautiful state. Though we were a small trade based state, our resident population never fell below 5,000, a proud number in the North. We were reduced to only 200 weakened and demoralized denizens and traders no longer graced our pass.

Deimos, now my second in command, wrapped me in a tight wool cape and nodded as I reported my success. My walked silently together through ever deepening snows as we prepared to announce my official coronation. Belenos was a fallen superpower and it was up to me to restore her to her former wealth and prosperity and remind the world that we were still a glorious and powerful nation that could survive the unimaginable. What this required, I couldn't say for sure, but it meant starting anew in the ashes of the fallen.
Last edited by Threnody on Tue Dec 04, 2012 3:42 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Six moths prior...




Derek Willhelmsson


I walked along the road, wrapping my coat around myself, trying to keep the freezing cold away. The leather had once been a deep burgundy, it now resembled a sort of shit brown, clingy at the borders. It wasn't this cold in Sunscrag, not remotely so. Here, the wind bullied the rain around constantly, lightning showed its displeasure and thunder, not wanting to be outdone, shouted nonsensically. Oh, and fog too. It liked to loiter around as well, waiting to devour the unwary traveler.

Nevertheless, the village I was headed to was an important merchant crossroads, built where three intersections and a river met, making it an important urban center in the plains. Despite it being early, I could see others trudging through the mud, and heard an ox -- or maybe a cow -- bellow up ahead. The sloshing of the river was the ever-present background.

Heather's Crossing was soon visible, a sprawling stain of stone, dirt and people on the land. There were no walls, of course not, the only barriers were provided by houses, barracks and stores that clung to each other like desperate lovers and rose atop each other like a drunken tower. Scores of people came here every day, but few actually chose to stay. The place was too chaotic, too loud, and, I assumed, far, far too cold and wet for most.

So now, things to do, things to do... before anything else, I'd have to find a place to stay. An inn would do, for now. And then, I'd set about establishing myself here. From what I'd heard, Heather's Crossing was dominated by powerful merchant clans, so that'd be a good place to start as any.

Lost in thought, I barely glanced at the streets around me. People bustled, pushing through the fog, huffing and grumbling, trying to follow what little illumination was provided by fires. Glimmering etherflames marked the homes of the rich. As I ambled deeper into the town streets, more I spotted more and more etherflames. So, this was the mercantile district, it seemed.

One house in particular struck me: two stories high and very wide, it was surrounded by low walls which granted a glimpse of an elegantly tended lawn. Even the fog seemed in awe, shying away from the great construction.

I moved closer, trying to act as least as a burglar as possible, and tapped a passerby on the shoulder. The woman jumped in alarm.

"Wha' the hell d'ya think you're doin', huh?" she demanded.

The accent made me cringe, but I kept my voice level. "Excuse me, but, do you know who's house this is?"

She looked at me as if I were daft.

"You don't know? This 'ere be the house o' Ser Evenville, richest o' the merchants o' Heather's Crossing, they say."

Was she faking that accent or something...? "Ah, of course. I've just arrived here, forgive me."

Grumbling, the woman walked off in a hurry.

Now, how to stage an entrance... aha. Two guards, half asleep, one leaning on a pike, at the entrance. They were hidden twice over, once by the fog, and again by small niches in the gate, like columns.

I bent over and picked up a stone, then approached, whistling loudly. When I was but a few feet from them, one of the guards stirred, twitched in alarm, and elbowed the other in the gut.

"What do you want?" one demanded, harshly.

"Is this the residence of Ser Evensville?" I asked, politely.

"No, my grandma lives here," the other sneered. "Who else, idiot?"

"I would like to see him," I said, calmly.

They scoffed loudly. "D'you hear the man, Patrick? This here stranger wants to see the Ser," the one on the right said. The other, Patrick, guffawed.

"Shove off, beggar."

Humming a tune, I walked forward. The stone I held in my fist warmed and glimmered. I shook one of the guard's hand, and whispered in his ear "Oh, I think Ser Evensville would like to see me as well."

The guard looked at the chunk of gold in his hand, gulped, and moved aside.

**** ****


The lobby was as ridiculous as the exterior of the house. Thick tapestries lined the walls, the floor was buried under a red velvet shag carpet, and everything that possibly could shone, and then some.

My first impression of Ser Evenville was that of an angry, disgruntled hill. The man was fat, very much so, and twitching in pent-up frustration. He evidently did not like being interrupted from his meals.

"It's barely dawn," he rumbled. "There had better be a very good reason for this."

"I was looking for a job," I began.

"A JOB?!!" Ser Evenville exploded. "WHO DO YOU THINK I AM, I DON'T -- "

"I'm quite capable of managing resources," I cut him off, smoothly, "and I thought you'd be interested in seeing me in person."

As I said that, I finished my the circle I was tracing with a finger. The plump armchair the merchant lord was sitting in turned to solid diamond.

Ser Evenville's eyes darted down. He licked his lips.

"Perhaps," he began, slowly, "we should adjourn to my study to resume discussing."

I grinned. I had already won.
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Angel Eriksail


"Oh bloody hell!" I yelled to no one in particular. A few birds heard me, and decided to find another tree in which to perch. Damned good idea. I wanted to track down that worthless little cartographer from the last town and wring the tendons out of his neck, but since that would involve another three days' worth of walking, I would settle for any neck to wring.

I theory, I was supposed to be standing at the center of a bustling city full of rich folk. The reality was that I was entirely lost in a forest, with both my rations and my patience dwindling rapidly.

Normally I fancied myself an exceptionally bright twenty-year-old female, but a tiny man with bad breath had successfully cheated me out of my precious coin; here I had thought myself clever, using all of my charm to talk his price down...but no amount of haggling would make up for the fact that the map in my hand was a work of fiction. For all I knew, there was no grand city by the name of Cakeria anywhere in the world.

Stuffing the accursed scrap of paper back in my pack, I resigned myself to more trudging in the hopes that I would find something that resembled a town.

~~~


Just before sunset, I finally broke free of the trees and saw something beautiful beyond words. Flickering torches. Thatch roofs shining in the moonlight. Horses sleeping in a small paddock. No, it wasn't a bustling metropolis, but if people lived here, then there was a good chance that food did, too.

As I approached, a dog began to bark somewhere. Soon, I heard commotion from inside the little houses. Eventually a door inched open, and a man poked his head out. I stopped a few feet away from the house and gave him my best smile. "Hello! I'm sorry to wake you and your families, but I have been traveling for several days and this village looked like a nice place to stop for a while. I'll understand if you don't have room for me, but if you do, then I would be very grateful for nothing more than a warm meal and a place to sleep for the night."

This speech generally resulted in an enormous housewife emerging from the house and calling to the children to prepare bed, bath, and meal. Now, however, I was simply met with an owlish stare from the man. When a housewife finally did emerge, she simply poked her head out next to her husband's and stared at me.

Well, I could forgive a delayed reaction. I had woken them from their beds, after all. Perhaps it would be best to start with the basics. "My name is Angel Eriksail."

The husband and wife adopted identical expressions of disbelief, and they turned to look at each other. They seemed to be whispering. After a while, they both turned back to me and the husband said hesitantly, "Angel?" He had a rather bizarre accent that I had never heard before.

"Yes, that's my name. Angel Eriksail. May I ask who--"

The wife cut me off with an excited string of what seemed to be gibberish. She gestured wildly at me, and I realized with a sinking feeling that she was not speaking my language. "Eh...excuse me, but have you understood anything I've said?"

Their uncomprehending expressions would have been cute under other circumstances, but I was starting to get cold and achy from standing around.

"Angel?" the husband repeated.

I nodded in irritation, and suddenly they were grabbing me by the arms and pulling me into their home. As I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that others were coming out of their homes as well to see what was going on.

The house was small, with a loft almost low enough to hit your head on. Three small children were peering down from it, wide-eyed. My new hosts hurried me over to what I assumed was the kitchen, and the wife pulled out a chair while gesturing for me to sit. When I was situated, they continued to gabble for a bit until they realized I could understand them no more than they could understand me. The wife pulled a loaf of bread out of the cabinet and began slicing rapidly while the man set out various raw fruits and vegetables; they at least had the right idea.

By the end of a rather delicious meal, I had gleaned that the man was Otto, and his wife was Belha. The town, as well as I could tell, was Ulherben. We mainly communicated through pantomime. At last, Belha went outside to inform the neighbors what was going on. I heard a commotion, and my name being shouted. Perhaps my reputation was known here?

Otto dragged me outside--what strong people they were--and after much excited talk he gestured at me, then spread his arms and said, "Ulherben. Angel, Ulherben!"

"What?"

Frustrated, the entire gathering of townspeople seemed to discuss amongst itself. Finally, a man with rather large front teeth stepped forward nervously. "Angel...Angel, leader."

Oh hell.
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Shadowkill
There were no cheers, no applause, not even a whisper. Just the sound of blood dripping from my sword. No matter where I looked I saw the same thing. Eyes wide open, faces frozen in the middle of a cheer. They had all thought that I would lose, but I had proved them wrong.

Suddenly someone started clapping. Crow, no doubt. No one followed his lead, and the sound echoed through our camp. "Shadowkill has slayed Great Bearpaw in an official and fair duel. All hail our new leader, Great Shadowkill!" Crow grabbed my right hand, which I was holding my sword in, and raised it above our heads. There was a moment of awkward silence before they finally started cheering.

The following hours flew by in a haze. There was a feast, then dancing, drinking and speeches from our greatest fighters where they ensured their loyalty to me. Every word was bullshit, of course. After that the Elder took me into his tent and burned the Great Snake into the skin of my arm. It hurt like hell, but I had kept my mouth shut. The men never trusted a leader who screamed during the burning. After that I went back to my new tent, the Great Tend, and sat down on the throne with a sigh.

"Aren't you going to join the festivities, oh Great Shadowkill?" I looked up and saw Crow entering my tent with a playful smirk.

"I'm not really in the mood." I couldn't help but notice how tired I sounded. Like an old man on his deathbed. Crow must've noticed too, since he flinched.

He leaned his head to the side, suddenly looking worried. "Are you okay, Shadow?" His eyes darted to the burn on my arm. It began with the head of a snake on the back of my hand, which then twisted around my arm until it reached my shoulder. It was the symbol of our clan, which could only be worn by the Elder and the Great one.

Crow took a small jar from his pocket and went over to my side. I held out my arm so that he could rub the ointment onto my skin. He did so slowly and gently. It felt cool and soothing, and since no one else was there I let a sigh of relief escape from my lips.

"You should've told me," he muttered.

"If I had, you would've tried to stopped me."

"Of course I would've! Challenging Great Bearpaw is the stupidest thing you've ever done." I opened my mouth to point out that I had won, but he cut me of. "And don't think for a minute that the danger's over just because you won! The men doesn't trust you and as soon as these five days of peace are over, they're going to challenge you. For fuck sake, you're 16! Couldn't you just wait until you were 20!? Everyone is calling you a brat and what if.." I glared at him to shut him up.

"They wouldn't have trusted me even if I was 30, you know that.. And I couldn't take it anymore." I really couldn't. Being commanded by the man who killed my mother. The man who raped her before my eyes and then beat her to death with the back of his sword. I couldn't do anything about it back then, because I was only a scared little boy, but not anymore.

He put the jar back in his pocket, but stayed on his knees beside me. "Shadow, I get it. Bearpaw killed my parents too, and now when you're the leader you'll be forced to do the same awful things that he did. Our marry band of thieves wont survive otherwise. Make people desperate enough to join. That's how our clan survives."

"It's fucked up, and I'm not going to be like that. I'm tired of going from one village to the other, burning them to the ground as soon as we've taken what we want. Everyone here knows how to fight, so why can't we just work as mercenaries?"

Crow sighed. "You're being naive."

"It thought you liked that." I smiled at him and he smiled back.

"I do, but I don't want to see you get killed in a duel because of it."

I stood up and walked over to a chest in the corner which I unlocked with Bearpaw's key. It was filled with coins and valuable trinkets. "Even if I can't win their trust with skills alone, I can still bribe them."

"And what happens when that chest is empty?"

"Hopefully I'll have proven myself by then."

Crow suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the side of my neck. "And if that doesn't work we can run away."

"Mmm," I murmured. But I wasn't going to let it go that far. I was going to lead our clan of bandits no matter what, and I was going to do it without becoming a monster like Bearpaw.
Last edited by Alvarin on Tue Dec 18, 2012 9:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Master Edward

This morning I sat astride my horse, wondering if it wasn't too late to desert. I searched within myself for an inner peace, for a rock of reason from which to draw strength but I found nothing. What could there be to find? In a short time I would be fighting for a man I did not believe in, amongst men I hardly knew. Except for Dom of course.

‘Last chance, Ed. My shield for your horse. My shield for-’ He lifted the battered item above his head and shook it enticingly. Part of the crest came loose and plummeted to the ground.

‘I thought you said my horse was fat and slow.’

‘Well it is, which is why this is such a great offer. Come on, it’s a lovely shield.’

‘It has holes in it.' I shrugged and patted my horse on the neck. Dom was probably looking for an escape and he thought my horse would get him out the battle the fastest, which just went to show how rickety his own beast was. Poor sod.

‘I was coming to that. It’s a lovely, holy shield, practically a shield of God, a shield that will protect you in times of danger and-” I shook my head and turned at the sound of trumpets. Once. Twice. Three times; the signal. Dom sighed and threw the shield on the ground. We tightened our lines. Then one shorter blast and we charged. The infantry had already been down and secured the gate; I could feel the bones of their dead crunching under my horse’s hooves. Then we were flying down the hill and laid out before us was a ladder of corpses, almost long enough to scale the walls.

Arrows rained down on us from the ramparts and by the time I passed under the gate, our ranks had thinned like winter corn. We were met by a sortie of horses. I ducked the strike of one man’s mace and planted my sword in his shoulder. Then I pulled it out and ran the next one through. Strike. Fold back. Strike again.

The arrows were raining and my horse buckled as it was pierced in the neck and began to fall. I rolled away and caught a blow on my shield before striking at the man’s legs. Another horse went down. Maybe it was Dom's or maybe someone else but I couldn't see through the forest of men. I cursed and rolled to my feet and struck again. Fold back. Strike.

It was a short battle, a skirmish in truth, but my blood was pumping and not all of it inside my veins. I searched for Dom; I found him slumped against his dead horse, one hand clutching his wounded arm and the other still fastened to his sword.

‘Still alive?’ I called out almost cheerily.

‘Just about,’ he grumbled. We were done. A victory in our pockets and silver on the way, the Lord could have his stupid castle and we'd be looking for the next fool willing enough to give us horses and fill our bellies with food.

'Where's the great and almighty Brent? I say we cash in now and hit the road.' I reached down and pulled my friend to his feet, the blood sliding between our slippery hands. He smiled at me. It was that sort of smile Dom gives you when he's come up with another incredulous plan. It's the smile he gave me before he pushed me into a cart full of shit and it's not a smile I like.

'Oh no- whatever you're thinking-'

‘He's dead.' Dom's words cut my own to pieces and I stared at him. It wasn't a question of whether he was mad; just how mad. I looked beyond where he was standing and saw the corpse and looked again at the blood on Dom's sword.

'How d'you like the sound of Master Ed? I'm tired of hitting the road.' Dom patted me on the back and before I knew it we were surrounded by knights and he was telling them boldly of my brave and fierce attempt to defend Lord Brent.

'And then,' Dom said. 'Lord Brent gasped out – Edward! I am dying and I will never rule this castle or lay with my wife again. Take my castle. And my wife and you will have many strong sons.'

So that was how I became their Master and how I got landed with the ugliest wife you ever did see and a castle that's draughtier than my suit of armour. Here's to moving up in the world.
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