MP: Chronicles_EA: Second-pass Signup and Discussion

[Kristoffer O]

Sick, you say. Hmm, this would be the apparent effect of the emperor becoming immortal.

Throwing up? Of course, he cannot eat regular food any longer. Soon he should be thoroughly transparent.

Not transparent? Sure he is. I didn't see him yesterday.

Sleepwalking? I'm pretty sure he was still in his bed when I didn't see him.

I do have access to the imperial bedroom!

What? Who should give him the medicines to complete the change if I'm executed?

What do you mean Inner Alchemy? There is no way the emperor could transmute himself without alchemical aid. If he interrupts the alchemical process he will surely die! You must let me continue!

Release me!

- Lin Poo, Former Imperial Alchemist

[Lokean]

If I don't hear from Juffos and Ruminant by the weekend I'll put in the first two subs and we can get moving. I haven't sorted out the wiki yet, but I'll chase puffyn up about that and see what can be arranged.

[Ylvali]

- Hugo! Hugo! there´s beer in the fountain down at Hefners!

Hugo took another puff of his pipe while waiting for his nephew to catch his breath.

- Are you gone mad boy? there´s always beer in the fountain. Never cleans up proper I say. Thats what I said last town meeting, true as I sit here! Now sit here and I´ll tell ya...

- No no, you don´t get it! You gotta come and see!

Whats wrong with the young uns these days? Hugo thought as he stood up. (It took some effort, ten meals a day) And rumbled after his nephew...

The Hoburgs were always a peaceful people, concerned with little exept well cooked meals and good tobacco, but the day the sacred beer began pourin from the old fountain everything changed. Those who drank it were aroused to holy awareness of the sorry state of the world. First of them were Hugo Bremt, who raised his head thoughtully after having his first pint and spoke his prophecy:

- All those sorry big uns out there, striving and quarreling and going on about magic and adventures and such... It ain´t decent it ain´t. Can´t get a pint worth its name outside of Hoburgdorf these days, not to speak of tobacco. Ain´t civilized and decent like us. Someone ought to do something...

They called it Bierqell Brunnen, and bottled it up for their crusade, to remind the lads of home, to encourage and bless them in battle. It became their god and religion, to spread the good life to every corner of the world.

Looking forward to this...

[Otherling]

Since the time of the old Pantokrator's reign, a line of kings has ruled over Machaka. In name, at least. In truth, it is the priests of the old faith who hold power, and most day-to-day affairs are handled by the tribal chiefs. With one exception.

Deep in the heart of the sacred forest lies the lonely peak of God Mountain, where dwell the sorcerors who claim descent from Machaka's ancient god. They do not interfere with the affairs of the kingdom. However, whenever a new king is crowned, or whenever a new chief takes power in a tribe, he must make a journey to God Mountain. There, the sorcerors lead him through the caverns to the heart of the mountain where lies the Chamber of Silence. The tomb of the Dead God. Here each new chief spends a day in recognition of Machaka's ancient deity, cast down long ago by the Pantokrator. This contemplation in the still and the darkness gives him the strength to lead his people wisely.

A year ago, a young man named Matojo became chief of the Mhakala tribe upon the death of his elder brother. Many thought him too young, and would have placed his uncle in power instead. To still their protests, he made the long trek to God Mountain. The sorcerors led him down into the darkness, and left him to contemplate the death of a god. He sat for a long time, in that chamber where light and sound are forbidden. And then he heard a Voice...

[solmyr]

Prologue - Jotunheim

War, war never changes.

Memory of war never goes away easily. From Giant's Throne to Bitter Wood, from Horseheight Hill to Dwarven's Sorrow, we won victory over victory against the Vanir race of Vanheim, but until the day we started to siege the great city of Vanheim. We had our chance, and courage is always on our side. If the filthy Helheim did not backstab on us and raid on our home provinces, if the grand admirals of Vanheim did not miraculously break the storm on the Sea of Eternal Ice and reinforced their capital on time, the whole history of North Land will be different. In the end, Niefilheim was no more. Jarls divided to seek their own fate.

Every Jotunheim child can tell this story, so does Garm, the first son of Fjun Glacier, Jarl of Glacier Clan. Fjun was one of the eight greatest Jarls in Niefilheim. Unlike his father, Garm was praised more for his wisdom than for his strength. When the final day of Niefilheim approached, Fjun Glacier ordered his clan kins pack and head south, along with their families and slaves. Rumor said that Glacier Clan feared the upcoming onslaught and fled, but Garm knows the truth: The eight Jarls were long separately both physically and mentally since the great rout in Vanheim battle. There was no hope fighting with them in the final battle. So when Angarboda, the chief advisor of Glacier family told Fjun Glacier, by showing him the twisted sign in blood bowl, that there was a great forest of Iron and Ice, a promising land to the far south, Fjun made up his mind and raised the assembling call.

The journey to the south was never easy. In the first year, harsh ambush and raiding from Valkryrie killed almost all the slaves. The next few years, a mysterious plague spreaded in the ranks, many old Gygjas did not make it in the winter. Later on, even the strongest Niefil giant caught the disease. Unfortunately, Fjun was affected in the fifth year of the journey. Angarboda tried every dark art she knew, but eventually, all she could do was to ease the Jarl's pain. Fjun died in the summer of the fifth year. Even in his final days, there was not a single clue of the whereabouts of the promising land.

So, after buring his father, Garm Glacier became the Jarl of Glacier Clan. His father left him with only a handful of bodyguards and a clan of dying giants. Even Angarboda began to show some symptom of disease. "The whole clan was doomed the first day the mysterious plague started", obviously the clan kins did not fully trust their new leader. "We march, Iron Woods must be near." Garm gave his first official Jarl's order.

--End of prologue--

Since this game is special, I'll try something new. Instead of picking allies or enemy purely based on a geopolitics prospective, I'll add ideology and racial/historical elements into consideration this time. For instance, if you read my prologue, Vanheim clearly got lots to do with the divide of Niefilheim. So unless efforts were put in from both sides, I would have a very negative option on Vanheim. I'll probably stop trading with them, send spies or even declare war.

[Vanslime]

An excerpt of The History and Teachings of the Church of Saint Joachim, by Martin Callard, Inquisitor and Master Theologian of Marignon

According to our most trusted records, Saint Joachim first came to our land two centuries ago, a time where many living on the outskirts of the Ermorian Empire were growing wary of the burgeoning Death Cult of the heartlands. At the time, Our Lord was seen as a simple mage and philosopher. He would travel from village to village, awing the populace through magical cantrips and intriguing the educated through his wisdom. In these dark times, his promises of salvation and redemption enraptured many, but the complacent Ermorian authorities would usually turn a blind eye to his actions, concerned with other matters. And whenever a governor attempted to put a stop to his preaching, he would disappear without a trace.

As decades passed, Joachim's followers would spread his teachings, raise a new generation of believers, and pass away, but Our Lord himself never aged, not a single sign of the passage of time would tarnish his visage. As news spread of his apparent immortality, more and more would become convinced that he was the bearer of a divine mission or heritage. Even today, no one knows for certain whether Saint Joachim is a simple human granted eternal life until his Holy Mission is complete, an angel of the Celestial Choir descended to guide us, or something else entirely. Our Lord never enlightened us on this subject, and though we cannot fathom his reasons, we shall not question his wisdom, for to do so is to blaspheme.

And so it came to pass that, throughout the land that would come to be known as Marignon, belief in Saint Joachim spread, and that, when the time came, his followers were numerous and prepared.

[Hadrian_II]

Some time ago in the great undercity of Skavenblight:

It was a normal day, where myriads of rats where running in the streets, some doing their own business, some doing the business of others, some death on the floor who had just been doing business.

But today was also a little meeting in an obscure part of the town where only the most powerful and wise grey seers were allowed to participate.

Lord Kritislik Seerlord of the Skaven
Lord Keelik the Mad
Lord Queek the Knowledgeful
Lord Thanskat he who knows the Future
Lord Erlisk the Warpseer

After a long and heated discussion Kritislik takes the word "So we are in an agreement! The time of Ascension has arrived. The Skaven will finally rule the world. All praise the Horned Rat and his Emissary who will lead us in this time of joy.". Queek and Erlisk dont seem to happy about this, but as they see that the members of the council guard are ready to draw their weapons they fall silent.
Keelik: "We need still some time, the warrior clans should fall in line fast, but the great clans might not be willing to follow us as determined as we need."
Tanskat: "We will visit them starting with clan Eshin and we will have to pursuade them to join us"
Queek: "And when they agreed, they will persuade the other clans for us"

The meeting ends with an evil laughter of everyone present.

[Baalz]

Originally Posted by solmyr

Since this game is special, I'll try something new. Instead of picking allies or enemy purely based on a geopolitics prospective, I'll add ideology and racial/historical elements into consideration this time. For instance, if you read my prologue, Vanheim clearly got lots to do with the divide of Niefilheim. So unless efforts were put in from both sides, I would have a very negative option on Vanheim. I'll probably stop trading with them, send spies or even declare war.

I'll go you one more and say we should encourage most diplomacy to be done not only in character, but as part of the open narrative. Outside of necessary secrets I think the diplomacy will be a very interesting facet to the living story.

[Tifone]

Totally with you on that, guys

Now, if I could just come up with some decent Pretender to start posting too...

[Ylvali]

Originally Posted by Baalz

I'll go you one more and say we should encourage most diplomacy to be done not only in character, but as part of the open narrative. Outside of necessary secrets I think the diplomacy will be a very interesting facet to the living story.

Totally agree with that. Would also be nice to publicize the secret messages when they no longer need to remain secret.