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vaands

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  1. Like
    vaands got a reaction from samosaara in War Council (Role-Play)   
    First, this is a topic of discussion with role-play involved, or at least that's the goal, but I hope that everyone is welcome. So let's make an introduction.
     
    My right arm pushes an iron door letting the sunlight penetrate the room in which I was previously, when my body appears, cries accompany it, the sound of hooves striking the floor multiply more and more until they become just one sound. All the excitement comes from hundreds of centaurs who gathered in a spacious square, built with the function of allowing the soldiers to organize before leaving for the war. 
     
    Each man has in his right shoulder a brand, the symbol of our powerful empire, the symbol of our strength and greatness. We are known to devastate our enemies with a powerful breakthrough, our body was cut out for that, for war, then, is to her that we will go. Those who return, are men of value, but do not think that the soldiers who died on the battlefield are weak, each made sure to make a good amount of enemies to follow them to the same destination, they have done nothing more than its obligation to the empire and will be consecrated with great honor. But this is nothing more than a dream that hunger stole. 
     
    Hunger took our home and the gods cursed us with an immortal body, but do not get us wrong, none of the men present here has fear and weakness in his eyes, no! They are warriors, they were bred to fight and that they will do. The gods want to have fun playing games, let them, we will dominate all worlds. Our empire will become stronger and when we eliminate the hunger, we will be prepared to deal with others who think they are worthy of the sacred battlefield, I swear this in the name of Valkyn, the All-Father. 
     
    I approach the soldiers and they begin to silence, understanding that I have something to talk about. I am known as Vaandus Shieldheart (unconfirmed) and I own the respect of my group, but I'm not the only centaur with higher rank on the square, but before my companions arrive, I give myself the pleasure to initiate the main event. 
     
    "Men! The gods are acting, you know what that means!? Means that the moment for which you trained your bodies for is coming, the time where we will fight for trophies and to demonstrate the superiority of our race! For this reason, I now start the war council! Here we will meet in the next few days (indefinitely) to discuss strategies that will be essential on the battlefield."
     
    (Personally, even if this topic becomes a forever alone, without response, I had fun imagining and writing about the scene, and has been a good chance to improve my English, so even if no person participate in this war council, I am grateful for giving a read in the text. Comment, need not be just a comment with the intention of participating in the role-play, just let it explicit when posting. Anyway, I love this race and I hope to see here other people who share this feeling.)
  2. Like
    vaands reacted to oridi in The Crowfall Chronicles - Part 3 Of ?   
    Part 1 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-1-of/
    Part 2 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/1477-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-2-of/

     
     
    Crowfall Chronicles - Part 3 of ?

    The sun was doing its best to slip through the heavy forest cover as Olbuf wove his way between the thick trunks of the trees.  This part of the forest was old and a bit dank smelling, which made no difference to the warrior as he kept pushing forward intent on following the faintest smell of blood.  He knew the odds were that it came from yet another bloody rag tied to some varmint but he had to check.  The female was out here somewhere and he was determined to not only find her but also the source of the Toral Roots that she so blithely distributed.

    Toral Root was rare and prized among both healers and warriors.  Healers used it to remove infection from wounds and warriors used the juice from it to sharpen their blades to a nearly unstoppable edge.  While Toral Root was once common and grew all through the forest the renewal of the land after the last Hunger had left few of the plants behind.  Olbuf had once found a tiny seedling with the once familiar nodding pink crest of bell like flowers and had taken it back to his castle in an effort to grow a source of the root for his own.  It still lived but was a scrawny, thin thing with barely a few flowers left  much less the fleshy root shoots that showed the plant was ready for harvest.  The root the female had left on his axe was the first he’d seen in years.

    He heard a faint sound and turned his head slowly in the direction it came from.  There was little chance it was the creature but it might be dinner.  He let his greataxe swing up into his hands and started forwards, half crouched and prepared to strike.  He stopped behind a bush and sniffed the air, then slumped his shoulders and relaxed his grip on the axe. 

    “Trep”, Olbuf growled as he stepped out from behind the bush.  With a shriek, Trep dropped the tiny dagger he’d been holding fearfully in front of himself and whirled around to face his master.  “My Lord, I’m sorry, I tried shouting for you and then I fired the black arrow into the air but I forgot to light it so we need a new one now and I almost hit a crow with the arrow so when I tried to send a crow after you they just glared at me and hopped out of reach and so I tried again with shouting but you didn’t hear so I got a weapon and I found you!  I found you!”

    Olbuf looked at Trep with a mixture of dismay and exhaustion.  He’d been out looking for the female for a day and a half and had not stopped more than a few minutes to wolf down some food.  If the creature was near whatever chance he had of catching her was gone the moment Trep had opened his mouth. 

    It never crossed his mind to wonder how Trep had actually found him.
     
    ---
     
    Back at the Nest, the creature looked with satisfaction at the warm cubbyhole she’d created.  Not much compared to the more inhabited parts of the castle but a far sight better than a damp crook in a tree.  She had hacked an entrance just big enough for her to fit through in a wall blocking a staircase and covered the hole with dark, heavy cloth nearly invisible in the shadows.  Once through the wall a landing served as a warm and dry spot for her to retreat to, with a steady drip of water from the pipe leading up to water tower on the roof.  Stairs led up from the landing to a door that led to a courtyard open to the sky and while a part of her wondered why the lovely courtyard had been sealed off the rest of her only cared that the area only had one entrance, no windows or roofs overlooking it, and was relatively free of vermin.   A stout beam across the door served as a barricade to the courtyard when she was in her sanctuary and the smoke from her tiny fire meandered slowly up into the darkness and slipped unnoticed into the myriad cracks and crevasses in the looming floors above her.

    She had been working ceaselessly while Olbuf was out relentlessly searching for her.  Food had been pilfered from the Nest’s stores and tucked in several caches around the more isolated areas of the castle.  Escape routes had been cleared out then hidden and the more well used parts of the castle had been quickly reconnoitered and mapped, to be avoided whenever possible.  With a bit of luck she’d be undetected for months, maybe even years if she kept her thievery to a minimum and stayed quiet and out of sight. With a sigh of relief she lowered her aching body down onto the pile of furs and blankets that made up her new bed.  Winter was coming but she was safe and warm inside, out of the storms, away from the wind, dry and well fed.   Winter was coming but this time she was safe.
     
     
    The Crowfall Chronicles - Part 4 of ?  http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/1739-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-4-of/
  3. Like
    vaands reacted to oridi in The Crowfall Chronicles - Part 8 Of ?   
    This has to have been the most fun chunk of the story to write so far because it has some of the other players in it from these boards.  My gratitude goes to Ellie and Fawne from Lantern Watch and guest contributor Vaands. They developed the outlines of their character and I'm very much hoping to see them in future sections of the Crowfall Chronicles.

    Thank you for all the likes and kind comments- they are very much appreciated.  I started this tale to tell Oridi's back story and so far it's her background that has the least explanation.  Go figure. 
     
    Part 1 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-1-of/
    Part 2 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-2-of/
    Part 3 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-3-of/
    Part 4 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-4-of/
    Part 5 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-5-of/
    Part 6 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.cro...cles-part-6-of/
    Part 7 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/2131-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-7-of/#entry55082
     
     
     
     
    Crowfall Chronicles Part 8 of ?
    (Featuring characters developed by Ellie, Fawne, and Vaands)
     
    Olbuf leaned his battleaxe against the bar and lifted the glass of ale to his lips as soon as it was set down before him.  The tavern was the only place in Martletown he could stand to be in for more than a minute, mainly because at least in the bar no one pestered him.  Kill this, save those, so and so was maimed – the demands were endless.
     
    Old beyond remembrance, the tavern had been the first building raised in the village.  The inside was smoky and dim, with the entire ceiling covered by an intricate grid of iron bars hung with bottles, pots, baskets, herbs, cast off pieces of armor and the occasional animal horn. The floor was polished wood, scarred from decades of brawls and boots and the barkeep Torm was said to be older than the hills.
     
    The townspeople and travelers in the still, nearly silent tavern focused even more intently on Olbuf when he announced to Torm that he needed a new page. 

     
    A slight woman with golden brown hair was dressed all in black and standing at the bar.  She turned her head from her companion and shot a glance towards Olbuf, her deep blue eyes alert as she heard his demand.  Her hands slowly drifted from sight and her stance shifted to one more suited to combat than conversation.
     
    The boisterous group of everything from elkens to dryans in the back corner lowered their conversation down to a slight murmer as Olbuf declared his need for a page.  The well armed chinchilla perched on the edge of their table leaned over a bit as a swordwielder murmered something in her ear. The coin sized bit of white fur over her nose flashed in the dim light as she gracefully slid down off the table and was lost to sight.
     
    His brow slightly furrowed, a centaur sat with his legs tucked under him on the floor, with the front wall of the tavern on one side of him and a well cared for bow & quiver on the other.  His bearing spoke of combat training and a military crest flashed on the ring he wore on his hand. His brown eyes betrayed no emotion and only the subtle shift of his hooves belied his preparation for possible battle.  
     
    “And where then is Trep?  Have you released him home to us?” asked the barkeep, his hands well clear of the bar and his back nearly against the kegs behind him. Torm was a big enough man but nowhere near the size or strength of the warrior.
     
    “No”, grunted Olbuf.  “He was consorting with the enemy and escaped before I could mete out appropriate punishment.  No idea where he is but kill him if you see him.” 
     
    Torm let out a gasp of disbelief and asked, “What?” 
     
    Mutters could be heard around the tavern:

    “Trep? Consorting? He could barely kiss his own wife in public”
    “Not that kind of consorting – he means teaming up with”
    “Who would team up with Trep?  He’s nice but not a lot to offer teammate wise”
    “Well he did find the new spot for the well”
    “He did at that and remember when he got drunk that one time”
    “Trep’s never gotten drunk”
    “Yes he did – and he thought Barlt’s house was his and slept in the downstairs  bedroom for 2 days.  Barlt didn’t have the heart to kick him out so he slept in the guest room until Trep sobered up.”
    “Remember when Billt got so drunk he wound up floating down the Curld River all the way to the sea?”
    “Billt never made it all the way to the sea”
    “Yes he did - and…”
     
    The mutters turned to regular conversations and the barkeep leaned on the bar and asked Olbuf again about Trep, ignoring the clearly misheard order to kill him.  “So he’s disappeared then?”
     
    “Yes”, said Olbuf as he settled onto one of the more solid chairs at the bar.  “I was hunting a terrible foe in the forest and Trep gave them both warning and assistance.  His punishment is death.”  Olbuf saw nothing wrong with lying about what had really happened.  No one told the truth about what actually occurred on the battlefield.  If they did, no one would ever want to be a warrior and then where would pages come from?.  “Food” he ordered as he slammed his empty ale glass onto the bar.
     
    Torm nodded his head at the barmaid and she headed to the kitchen to find some food.  Feeding Olbuf was a hit and miss prospect at best.  Meat, maybe tubers, no vegetables required but the meat had to be bloody and simple was best all around.
     
    “I need a new page”, repeated Olbuf to the barkeep.  “One that can hold a sword this time.” 

    “We’re heading into Winter and there’s no one that we can really spare.  Maybe in the Spring”, offered Torm. 
     
    Olbuf glared at the barkeep.  “I need a new page. Now.” His voice raised slightly.
     
    Torm held his ground.  “You can ask the Mayor if you like, but I don’t know of anyone that would fit the bill.  Winter is coming early and every single person is needed.” There was no way Torm was sending another innocent person, man or lad, to be Olbuf’s page.  All of them had wound up dead or missing.
     
    The warrior stood up and loomed over the bar, his huge head inches away from the bottles and dried herbs that hung from the rack above him.  “I need a new page.  Point me to one or I’ll pick myself. “  His voice boomed through the tavern and his hand instinctively reached down for the handle of his axe.

    In a flash the black clad woman was over the bar and standing between Torm and Olbuf.  The level gaze of her striking eyes bore into Olbuf as he inhaled in preparation for another bellow.  “Do you claim the right of fealty from these townpeople?” asked the woman in a low voice.
     
    “What? I claim every right from every person in this cesspool of a village!” Olbuf shouted.  “Do I not keep them safe from the predations of the Hunger?  Do I not risk life and limb daily in the deep forest, keeping the beasts at bay? They owe me their lives and regardless of that I am their liege lord! Their women are mine, their crops are mine, their children are mine and they will suffer my wrath if I’m not given a page right now!”
     
    Mutters flitted through the air as the villagers in the tavern gave voice to their discontent:
     
    “Yeah, some protection he offers, letting us stay every Winter underground while he sits in that huge empty castle.”
    “Right and what about when he offered that snake filled tower when the Mayor asked if we could shelter on the way back from the festival?”
    “Remember when Wrell’s boy got mauled by that wolf?  Did he ever catch the wolf?”
    “I never saw a pelt – did you see a pelt?”
    “What exactly does he do again in that Nest of his?
    “What happened to Trep? Where is Trep?”
    “Hey how come he needs another page so soon – Trep was there less than a cycle.”
    “What about the kid before Trep – we never saw the body – that was the orphan boy that came to town from the northern road, right?”
    “Did he say to kill Trep? Or that he killed Trep?”
    “He killed Trep?!?”
     
    The mumbled comments swelled.  Olbuf narrowed his eyes and picked up his battleaxe.  Behind him, unseen, stood the chinchilla.  She seemed quite cheerful as she skillfully climbed up the rockwood roof post behind Olbuf's stool, slipping through the heavy bars of the bottle rack and pressing herself close to the ceiling.  She silently positioned herself directly above Olbuf’s head and pulled free a length of old rope that had been wrapped around her waist.
     
    The woman in black between Olbuf and Torm remained still, unmoved by Olbuf’s rant.  “Why don’t we take this outside” she suggested calmly. Olbuf looked confused and paused for a moment.  In his mind he was battling Torm, not this slip of a female and the discrepancy was distracting. 

    He swung his axe up on his shoulder, forgetting how close the ceiling was for a man his height.  The battleaxe smashed the bottles hanging from the rack above him and sliced the iron of the rack like butter.  Above him the nimble chinchilla rolled sideways out of the way and then snuck back to carefully loop the rope at the base of the axehead twice where it joined the handle.  She tied the ends of the rope tightly to the sheared but still hanging iron grid and then inched herself to the edge of the rack, flipping down to the ground without a sound. She was out of sight before anyone could blink twice. 
     
    Olbuf growled in a low voice to the woman standing between him and Torm. “You have three seconds to get out of the way.”  She raised one eyebrow then gave a tolerant half smile and stayed in place.

    With a snarl, Olbuf grabbed the axe on his shoulder with both hands and started to swing it around over his head, intending on a blow that would separate heads from shoulders.  But the rope between axe and iron held and rather than swing the axe Olbuf wound up tugging hard on the iron grid.  Bottles and pans rained down on him, loosened by his violent jerks as he struggled to get his axe free.
     
    Torm, no fool, leapt over the bar and started hustling patrons out the tavern doors and windows. The centaur rose to his feet.  The woman in black waited patiently behind the bar as Olbuf wrenched his axe free and immediately swung it at her neck.
     
    She bent backwards effortlessly, her eyes following the axe as it arced above her face, missing her by an inch. Once the axe was past she swung her torso sideways and straightened into a roundhouse kick that landed on the handle of the axe – driving it through to continue its arc with renewed power. Olbuf, surprised by the added momentum, tightened his grip and as he held firmly to the handle the axe head buried itself deep into the stonewood roof pillar. 
     
    The woman vaulted over the bar and, grabbing the last villager, dove out the front door.
     
    Olbuf had both hands on the handle of his axe, wrenching it from side to side as he tried to loosen it from the pillar.  As he grunted with effort the centaur crossed the tavern in 2 leaps and pivoted to deliver a sharp blow with a back hoof to Olbuf’s forehead.   Olbuf fell to the ground face down among the rubble.
     
    The centaur turned at the sound of a gasp.  There in the doorway to the kitchen was the barmaid, a large platter of nearly raw meat held in both hands.  She looked at the centaur then delicately picked her way through the broken shards and carefully placed the platter of food on the floor by Olbuf’s head.
     
     
    The Crowfall Chronicles - Part 9 of ? http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/2228-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-9-of/

    Woman in Black - Ellie
    Chinchilla - Fawne
    Centaur - Vaands
  4. Like
    vaands reacted to oridi in War Council (Role-Play)   
    Ellanen stuck to the back of the room, shifting her weight now and again and wincing at the squeak of metal against metal from her armor.   She was there as a token contribution from the city of Njell and as far as she was concerned the sooner all the speeches were done and they were out on the field of battle the better.
     
    She tilted her head to get a better view of the forgemaster that seemed to agree with her impatience and wondered idly if it was the same fellow with the legendary skill with blades she'd heard her swordsmith speak of back in the city.  The leader seemed capable enough, a centaur named Vaandus that used his hooves to punctuate his words. At least he had some strategy lined up though she would have preferred to just route the enemy and take their mines by force.
     
    So.  Find a strategic spot for a base, fortify it, then guerrilla attacks to weaken the enemy forces until Winter got here.  It was a decent plan but it kept the army here for a long time and where were they going to find food to feed so many mouths for longer than a week or so?  She thought about speaking up but when she started to raise the visor on her old, battered helmet the squeak was enough to make her freeze with embarrassment.   She cursed herself yet again for wearing the armor to the war council.  Half the fighters there were in leathers and while her gear was excellent for keeping her alive during battle it definitely looked (and sounded) quite the worse for wear.
  5. Like
    vaands got a reaction from doc gonzo in War Council (Role-Play)   
    Maybe i should move this topic to Fan Art & Fiction, but i gonna wait for someone to say this. Sorry if i am doing something wrong 
  6. Like
    vaands got a reaction from oridi in War Council (Role-Play)   
    First, this is a topic of discussion with role-play involved, or at least that's the goal, but I hope that everyone is welcome. So let's make an introduction.
     
    My right arm pushes an iron door letting the sunlight penetrate the room in which I was previously, when my body appears, cries accompany it, the sound of hooves striking the floor multiply more and more until they become just one sound. All the excitement comes from hundreds of centaurs who gathered in a spacious square, built with the function of allowing the soldiers to organize before leaving for the war. 
     
    Each man has in his right shoulder a brand, the symbol of our powerful empire, the symbol of our strength and greatness. We are known to devastate our enemies with a powerful breakthrough, our body was cut out for that, for war, then, is to her that we will go. Those who return, are men of value, but do not think that the soldiers who died on the battlefield are weak, each made sure to make a good amount of enemies to follow them to the same destination, they have done nothing more than its obligation to the empire and will be consecrated with great honor. But this is nothing more than a dream that hunger stole. 
     
    Hunger took our home and the gods cursed us with an immortal body, but do not get us wrong, none of the men present here has fear and weakness in his eyes, no! They are warriors, they were bred to fight and that they will do. The gods want to have fun playing games, let them, we will dominate all worlds. Our empire will become stronger and when we eliminate the hunger, we will be prepared to deal with others who think they are worthy of the sacred battlefield, I swear this in the name of Valkyn, the All-Father. 
     
    I approach the soldiers and they begin to silence, understanding that I have something to talk about. I am known as Vaandus Shieldheart (unconfirmed) and I own the respect of my group, but I'm not the only centaur with higher rank on the square, but before my companions arrive, I give myself the pleasure to initiate the main event. 
     
    "Men! The gods are acting, you know what that means!? Means that the moment for which you trained your bodies for is coming, the time where we will fight for trophies and to demonstrate the superiority of our race! For this reason, I now start the war council! Here we will meet in the next few days (indefinitely) to discuss strategies that will be essential on the battlefield."
     
    (Personally, even if this topic becomes a forever alone, without response, I had fun imagining and writing about the scene, and has been a good chance to improve my English, so even if no person participate in this war council, I am grateful for giving a read in the text. Comment, need not be just a comment with the intention of participating in the role-play, just let it explicit when posting. Anyway, I love this race and I hope to see here other people who share this feeling.)
  7. Like
    vaands reacted to txteclipse in Elkin Backstory   
    You saw me as prey. That was your first mistake.
     
    It is understandable. After all, I resemble a buck, much like the one you roasted over your fire pit a fortnight ago. That gleam in your eyes as you approached, arrow drawn, sure of your kill...it was the same then as it was just now.
     
    And why wouldn't it be? The creatures of the forest are fragile things, living their lives in fear of the next pair of sharp teeth to nip at their heels. My ancestors, like them, dreaded the press of shadows all around. The low growls, the near-silent whisper of clawed paws approaching, the eyes gleaming in the dark.
     
    What escaped you tonight is that my eyes gleam back. That was your second mistake.
     
    We grew tired of terror. We taught ourselves to drink it in, to soak up the night through our skin and breathe it into our lungs. It runs in our veins and whispers in our ears. It sharpens our teeth and gives us a hunger for more than grass, a thirst for more than water. So as you lay there, weeping for the pain to stop and the bleeding to be stanched, you have only yourself to blame.
     
    You thought yourself the predator. That was your final mistake.
     
    Shall I describe to you how you taste?
     
    ---
     
    Just having a bit of fun with the unrevealed archetypes. I might do some more down the road if inspiration hits me.
  8. Like
    vaands reacted to oridi in The Crowfall Chronicles - Part 2 Of ?   
    Part 1 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/1348-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-1-of/


     
    The Crowfall Chronicles  Part 2 of ?/
     
    Olbuf strode through the Great Hall of the Nest, his rage neatly bottled and placed to the side until the destruction of the interloper was complete.  What had seemed to be a mortally wounded forest creature had turned into a cunning enemy that had left him bound in his own castle.

    A female apparently, which made killing more difficult and easier at the same time.  Always a tough thing to kill a female as in Olbuf’s personal code of conduct women were property and prizes, to be protected as valuable assets.  But also easier to kill since they were usually poorly dressed for fighting and rarely had the strength that Olbuf had been building for years.
     
    Regardless, this particular woman did need to be destroyed.  She was tricky, devious, dishonest and needed to be killed, if only to keep the story quiet of how someone bested the mighty warrior Olbuf and left him tied up in his own hall.

    He stopped short at the archway that led from the Great Hall to the staircase curving down to the first floor.  Trep was close behind, sniffling and trying to keep his Master between himself and any perceived danger.  Something was odd about the railing of the staircase, something muted about the way the light hit the usually glowing wood. Olbuf stepped forward quietly, alert for ambush, and sniffed the banister.  Grease.  Bacon grease to be precise.   “Clean this up,” he muttered to Trep as he cautiously started down the stairs.

    As he descended his eye was caught by something laying at the foot of the stairs far below.  What advantage Olbuf had in hearing was lost in eyesight and he squinted, trying to make out what was there.   Halfway down he realized it was his greataxe and his pace increased as his hand twitched, lost without his legendary weapon.  When he reached the bottom he restrained himself from picking up the axe immediately, looking for a well placed poisoned thorn or weighted tripwire.  The only odd thing he could perceive was a small but fresh looking Toral Root laying on the blade of the axe.

    “How long was I unconscious?” Olbuf called up the stairs to Trep.  Trep froze, his tongue still mid-lick on the greased banister.  “Half a day,” the page called down.  “Half a day?!” thought Olbuf as an unfamiliar feeling of slight panic rose in him.  He cleared his mind and took a deep breath.  Nothing would be accomplished by moving into fear and it was becoming quite apparent that the encounter in the forest may not have been completely accidental.  “Search the castle,” he growled up at Trep and as he picked up the root and his axe and headed towards the weapons room.

    ---
     
    The creature that had caused such consternation was tucked into the trunk of a tree, miles from the looming bulk of the Nest.  She had spent her morning creating false trails and tying bits of bloodstained clothing to the tails of squirrels.  She knew that there was no real way to throw the warrior off her trail completely but at least she could keep him out of his castle for a day or two so she could complete her preparations.

    And there was a great deal to do.  Tunnels to dig, walls to build up, halls to divert, secret hollows that needed furnishing, and she needed stores.  Non-perishable food could be stolen from the castle’s larder and she’d need to create a network of hidden pipes to siphon water from the well.  There were plenty of crows about the place so that was a decent source of fresh food and with a bit of luck and a few days of uninterrupted work she’d be well on her way to achieving her goal.

    The creature was moving into the Nest.

    .---

    The Nest had always been there, though ownership had changed over the centuries.  Towering over the surrounding forest, the castle was built of dark grey stone and legend had it that the dwarves had originally created the Nest as a prison to hold the worst criminals as far away from civilized lands as possible.  Time had redefined the map and now the Nest was within a day’s ride of several towns, much to the chagrin of their mayors.

    The castle had never been fully mapped and the current owner Olbuf had not even seen more than a third of the massive structure.  There were labyrinths of hallways mixed with abandoned ballrooms, exquisitely ruined courtyards and miles of steps leading to broken landings and impromptu lakes of rainwater.  Rumors abounded of ancient mines far below the Nest and hidden bones tucked into moldering rooms just waiting for a lucky adventurer to strike it rich with the skeleton’s fiercely guarded hoard of gold.

    In reality however few if any visitors dared the wide pool of steps that rippled from the front door of the Nest and even fewer actually lifted the crow shaped door knocker to let loose a thudding announcement that a visitor was at the door.  It was not just that the castle was said to be cursed but there were the crows to contend with.   Hundreds of them – maybe even a thousand – whirled around the Nest, eyes keen and beaks sharp.  Any visitor was subjected to first their stare, then their derisive caws, then – if the intruder was unlucky – their angry dive bombing.   And if someone actually got through the gauntlet of crows there was Olbuf to deal with.  And no one wanted to ever, ever have to deal with Olbuf.
     
     
    Part 3 of the Crowfall Chronicles - http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/1639-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-3-of/
  9. Like
    vaands reacted to oridi in The Crowfall Chronicles - Part 1 Of ?   
    You knew it was coming!  Crowfall does not have a lot of its world defined yet but there's enough there to start developing some personal lore and here's the beginning of what I hope will be a rich and diverse tale of life and death in the world of Crowfall.  I tend to write in chunks so I'll post whenever I get enough down on paper to move the story forward.


    Olbuf swung his axe with a grunt and struck the trunk of a tree, burying the axehead deeply in the mossy wood.  There was some sort of rock in his boot and here in the deep, silent forest there was enough cover to take the time to get the blasted thing out.

    He liked the silence.  Silence was satisfying and meant that the animals were cowering in their dens or frozen in place, waiting for him to pass through.  Silence meant no snapped twig could be undetected, no squeak of a bowstring being pulled could slip past his large but very keen ears.  His fool of a page  Trep could never understand the need for quiet and thus was back at the stronghold locked in the weapon room, furiously sharpening the greatswords and cursing feebly.

    A drop splatted onto Olbuf’s meaty forehead.  He turned his face up, surprised at rain getting through such dense forest cover and looked into the eyes of a small form frozen on a tree limb above him, blood dripping from the branch.  With a howl he grabbed his axe, tore it from the tree trunk and whirled it neatly around, severing the branch above him and tumbling the bloody stranger onto the ground.

    “I have Toral Root!” screeched the tiny fool as it fell past him and rolled to the side.  “Fine,” grunted Olbuf.  “I’ll take it from your body when you’re dead.”

    “Not here – not with me…”

    Olbuf  swung the axe in an erratic pattern, striking now randomly, now specifically, nearly splitting the creature in half several times.  It was surprisingly agile in spite of its wounds.  “Hold still.” he commanded “You’re making this unnecessarily difficult and I don’t have all day to kill you. Where is the Toral Root?”

    The little one narrowly missed getting decapitated and made a sudden leap onto Olbuf’s back. “In your dreams, “ it whispered into Olbuf’s keen ear as a needle went into the side of his massive neck and he slumped to the ground. 

    ...

    “Wake up! Master wake up!”

    Olbuf was never one to oversleep and the frantic hissing in his ear combined with the rancid breath of the speaker was enough to have him start awake and reach for his axe.  His arm did not perform its usually instinctive response and his eyes narrowed with the realization that he was unable to move. 

    Lack of movement was a problem.  Olbuf was a warrior, a fighter, a huge crag of a man that would sooner run all night after an enemy than rest by a fire sipping wine and trading tales. At the moment his face seemed to be the only thing mobile and his eyes darted in an effort to see what was restraining him and whether he could bite his way to freedom.  All he could see was that he was in the Great Hall of his castle, the Nest.

    Something bumped against the side of his head and then swung twisting into view.  It was his page Trep, trussed upsidedown neatly with what looked like the rope from a grappling hook and hanging from the thick dusty rafters far above them.  Trep’s inverted head was about the same level as Olbuf’s face and his spittle kept spraying onto the warrior as Trep’s frantic whisper worked into a shout. 

    “Quick! Before she comes back!  Oh she’s evil, evil and wicked and it’s not my fault Master, it’s not my fault.  She said you sent her and she had your axe as proof and I was so glad to get out of the weapons room and everything is very sharp in there now, you could split a hair on the Sword of Sorrows but I found a nick on the edge of the old Cursed Blade and I bet that’s what happened the curse got out of the blade and now it’s on us! It’s on us Master and she’s tricky and mean and she said you sent her and we’re cursed! She cursed us!”

    “Silence!” roared Olbuf.  “Swing closer you fool.”

    Trep did his best to wiggle and sway himself towards Olbuf like a demented pendulum, muttering all the while about curses and evil and the disadvantages of being hung upsidown as opposed to the apparently carefree experience of being tied up immobile against the iron window grill like Olbuf.  He managed to get a pretty good swing going and when he bumped into Olbuf’s face Olbuf locked his teeth on a bit of the rope binding Trep and in less than a minute had chewed through.

    20 minutes later Trep fell to the ground with a thud and Olbuf’s face was a mass of rope splinters. “Get me free,” growled Olbuf. 




    Part 2 of the Crowfall Chronicles  - http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/1477-the-crowfall-chronicles-part-2-of/ 
     
    Map of the Nest -  http://community.crowfall.com/index.php?/topic/2578-crowfall-chronicles-nest-map/
     
  10. Like
    vaands reacted to masterofspelss in Knight Vs Knight   
    I felt bored so I decided to write a short story involving the male and female Knight (Writing this without being able to use proper writing lines and spaces was annoying)
     
     
    Raven didn't feel the arrow hit her, just her warm blood suddenly appearing on her side. Looking down, she gave a cry of pain as her senses came back. Gritting her teeth she grabbed the piece of deadly crafted wood and yanked it out, causing another cry of agony. Stumbling on her feet, she painfully made her way to a nearby boulder, shielding her from any more attacks.
    The sounds of the continuing war were drowned out as she tilted her sweaty, bleeding head back against the rough stone. She looked up at the sun that glared cruelly on the bloody battlefield below. Her body ached and whenever she moved it screamed for her to stop, but she wasn't going to give up. This was her home, and she would defend it with her life.
    She fumbled around in her torn bag, hoping to find any remaining cloth to stop the bleeding. Finding none, she took her sword and made a tear, using it to press against the wound. She winced, it wasn't too deep but it hurt like hell. Taking a deep breath, she dug her sword into the ground and used it to drag herself to her feet.
    "Raven."
    She whirled around to see a familiar face, one she was hoping she would never see again.
    "Back off Ernest!" She warned raising her sword.
    Ernest ignored her and took a step forward, causing Raven to step back.
    "Don't come any closer." She said, trying to keep her voice calm.
    The opposing Knight gave her a sad stare, the only part of his armor that didn't have some kind of blood stain was his left shoulder, causing it to gleam in the sun.
    "Raven, we don't need to do this." He said quietly.
    "You're one to talk, your bastard King is the one attacking after all!" She growled.
    Ernest looked away in shame.
    "I know, trust me I-"
    "Don't even think about apologizing you snake! If you really felt the way you did you wouldn't even be here."
    "Please! just listen to me!" Ernest pleaded. "That's why I'm here, to find you! We don't need to do this." He gestured around him. "If you just came-"
    "No!" Raven interrupted. "If I leave here alive, it's because we won the war."
    "Look around you! Your army is outmatched, there is no way in hell you can win, you and I both know that!"
    Raven gave him a death stare.
    "Then kill me, if I'm going to die, I'll die here on the battlefield." She tilted her chin up in defiance.
    "If this is some kind of stupid act to prove your honor, wake up, I'm giving you a chance to live Rave." Ernest hissed.
    "I choose my own path Ernest, I either die here or leave victorious."
    Ernest narrows his eyes.
    "So be it."
    He lunged towards her, sword ready. Raven stumbled back, raising her own sword to block his. The force caused her to trip and she fell backwards. Ernest thrust his sword down but Raven rolled out of harms reach, pulling herself to her feet she looked up just in time to see Ernest's armored fist slam into her right jaw causing her to stumble back, head reeling.
    "I gave you a chance Raven, you were stupid to decline." Ernest said, voice dripping with venom.
    He walked over, grabbing her by the throat, raising her off her feet. Her sword fell out of her hand and clattered to the ground.
    "Well... What are you... Waiting for? Do... It..." She said, clutching at his arms.
    Ernest glared at her before throwing her on the ground.
    "You aren't worth the effort." He muttered.
    As he turned around, Raven rolled to get up on all fours, gasping for breath.
    "I knew... You couldn't... Do it... You were always... Too... Nice."
    Ernest turned around to face his defenseless opponent.
    "You think I did this out of pity?" He hissed kneeling down next to her head. "If I wanted to kill you I would have, but I'm not wasting my energy on someone who will die anyway."
    Raven smirked, blood trickling from her nose and lip.
    "Your mistake."
    With a flash, she used the rest of her remaining strength to drive a hidden dagger through his throat. Ernest gave a startled blood filled gasp, before crumpling to the blood splattered dirt. Raven let out a deep sigh, before falling to the ground herself, rolling onto her back so she could see the sun. She gave a small smile.
    "Looks like this is how it ends huh."
    She could feel the warmth of the sun penetrating through her remaining armor. It felt peaceful and welcoming. She squinted in the harsh sunlight. A single crow was flying overhead. She let out a painful chuckle, just thinking about how she would soon be eaten by crows and forgotten by everyone she knew felt odd. But at the same time, she didn't care. After all, she had done her part. She went to many wars, defended her Kingdom, did as much as she could, and now it was over. Something she was actually looking forward to.
    The crow circling overhead had flown closer and landed a few feet away. It seemed like it didn't care about the war that was raging all around it, the sound of her friends being overpowered, the Kingdoms walls being breached, it was all being drowned out. All she could hear was the wind and crow that was moving closer. It cawed and stopped near her feet. It felt fitting actually, her name was Raven after all.
    "Looks like you'll be my only friend at my death." She murmured.
    The crow tilted his head, cawed, and hopped onto her leg, making its way up to stand on her stomach. She was surprised at how fearless it was, after all, she was still slightly alive and crows were extremely cautious when it came to scavenged meals. She looked at it, it's black feathers smooth and sleek, but something glinted around its neck. She slowly raised her hand, the crow didn't flinch. Not wasting any more time, she carefully grabbed the glinting object and pulled it off from around the crows neck. Looking closer, she saw it was a vial of green, glowing liquid.
    "Well I'll be damned." She muttered.
    She focused all her strength and heaved herself to a sitting position, causing the crow to hop off and fly onto the boulder nearby. Grabbing the vial she pulled the cap off, she knew the look of this anywhere. A rare healing remedy used by the ancient healers that was lost in time, said to cure any wound. She quickly poured it in her mouth, drinking every last drop.
    "Thanks for that." She said to the crow, dragging herself to her feet.
    She still felt sore, but her wounds were already beginning to feel better. Looking around, she stooped down to pick up her sword. Looking back at the crow, she smiled. It gave her another caw, as if to say "you're welcome" before flying off. She gingerly followed in its direction to peer out behind the boulder to survey the land below. She gave a gasp, Knights, hundreds of them, along with battle ready horses were charging the war-ground. She saw the battle flags and recognized them immediately, they were the logos of the Syruin, the neighboring Kingdom! It seemed they had come to help as allies to drive back the enemy. It seemed her Kingdom had a chance, as well as a new friend. Grinning, she scrambled down the hill as fast as she could.
    "Don't count me out yet folks, looks like this Knight still has a few moves left."
     
    -END
  11. Like
    vaands got a reaction from Iridian ShadowWeaver in War Council (Role-Play)   
    First, this is a topic of discussion with role-play involved, or at least that's the goal, but I hope that everyone is welcome. So let's make an introduction.
     
    My right arm pushes an iron door letting the sunlight penetrate the room in which I was previously, when my body appears, cries accompany it, the sound of hooves striking the floor multiply more and more until they become just one sound. All the excitement comes from hundreds of centaurs who gathered in a spacious square, built with the function of allowing the soldiers to organize before leaving for the war. 
     
    Each man has in his right shoulder a brand, the symbol of our powerful empire, the symbol of our strength and greatness. We are known to devastate our enemies with a powerful breakthrough, our body was cut out for that, for war, then, is to her that we will go. Those who return, are men of value, but do not think that the soldiers who died on the battlefield are weak, each made sure to make a good amount of enemies to follow them to the same destination, they have done nothing more than its obligation to the empire and will be consecrated with great honor. But this is nothing more than a dream that hunger stole. 
     
    Hunger took our home and the gods cursed us with an immortal body, but do not get us wrong, none of the men present here has fear and weakness in his eyes, no! They are warriors, they were bred to fight and that they will do. The gods want to have fun playing games, let them, we will dominate all worlds. Our empire will become stronger and when we eliminate the hunger, we will be prepared to deal with others who think they are worthy of the sacred battlefield, I swear this in the name of Valkyn, the All-Father. 
     
    I approach the soldiers and they begin to silence, understanding that I have something to talk about. I am known as Vaandus Shieldheart (unconfirmed) and I own the respect of my group, but I'm not the only centaur with higher rank on the square, but before my companions arrive, I give myself the pleasure to initiate the main event. 
     
    "Men! The gods are acting, you know what that means!? Means that the moment for which you trained your bodies for is coming, the time where we will fight for trophies and to demonstrate the superiority of our race! For this reason, I now start the war council! Here we will meet in the next few days (indefinitely) to discuss strategies that will be essential on the battlefield."
     
    (Personally, even if this topic becomes a forever alone, without response, I had fun imagining and writing about the scene, and has been a good chance to improve my English, so even if no person participate in this war council, I am grateful for giving a read in the text. Comment, need not be just a comment with the intention of participating in the role-play, just let it explicit when posting. Anyway, I love this race and I hope to see here other people who share this feeling.)
  12. Like
    vaands reacted to palad1n in Let Players Stave Off The Hunger   
    You could make an option that under extreme challenge, you are able to push back the hunger, but at great cost. The hunger has devoured, consumed, destroyed so much of the world / campaign, you are tasked to trigger an eternal warmth that will breath life and renew the lands, but that will take time. In order for this mechanism to take place, you will need to return to your eternal kingdom while that world goes through new transformations (ie: landscape changes, resources change, etc). 
     
     You could look at it as a different campaign win scenario that still results in a "rebirth / reset" mechanism, just done a little differently with unique rewards and trophies earned should you actually survive it.
  13. Like
    vaands got a reaction from bahamutkaiser in Spears   
    I am too a fan of Spear and Shields. One of the many reasons i chose the centaur as my main race is that he have the choice to use a spear and the shield, is too much hype in only one race. 
  14. Like
    vaands got a reaction from kaizoq in Spears   
    I am too a fan of Spear and Shields. One of the many reasons i chose the centaur as my main race is that he have the choice to use a spear and the shield, is too much hype in only one race. 
  15. Like
    vaands reacted to trugamer in War Council (Role-Play)   
    Hopefully Centaurs won't be outclassed as melee dps because I sure wouldn't mind playing one!
  16. Like
    vaands reacted to dwarfurious in War Council (Role-Play)   
    *Drinks some beer, kills an elf, re-counts gold in pocket for 9th time before killing another elf with a beer*
  17. Like
    vaands reacted to seventhbeacon in War Council (Role-Play)   
    If the men had not already been familiar with him, they might have mistaken the forgemaster for a statue in their midst.  He fixed his eyes on Vaandus.  It was a cold stare, but one that held a deep fury.
     
    With a voice that sounded like two stones scraping in a deep well, he spoke. "I say we strike while the iron is hot and bellies are full.  Surprise is worth its weight in gold over strategy."
     
    He was not the patient sort.  Nor very good at speaking to his superiors with proper deference.  If his blades were not the best to be found this side of the Infected, we would have long since been severely punished.
  18. Like
    vaands reacted to heathen in War Council (Role-Play)   
    OOC: I would actually like to see something like this inside the game, something like a council (from an in-character perspective) but that is functional.
  19. Like
    vaands reacted to seventhbeacon in War Council (Role-Play)   
    That's where I'd showcase it!  Just the same, though, always nice to see more fic on the board.  Thanks for sharing
  20. Like
    vaands got a reaction from trugamer in What Class Will You Be!   
    You just flipped my trap card
     

  21. Like
    vaands got a reaction from seventhbeacon in War Council (Role-Play)   
    First, this is a topic of discussion with role-play involved, or at least that's the goal, but I hope that everyone is welcome. So let's make an introduction.
     
    My right arm pushes an iron door letting the sunlight penetrate the room in which I was previously, when my body appears, cries accompany it, the sound of hooves striking the floor multiply more and more until they become just one sound. All the excitement comes from hundreds of centaurs who gathered in a spacious square, built with the function of allowing the soldiers to organize before leaving for the war. 
     
    Each man has in his right shoulder a brand, the symbol of our powerful empire, the symbol of our strength and greatness. We are known to devastate our enemies with a powerful breakthrough, our body was cut out for that, for war, then, is to her that we will go. Those who return, are men of value, but do not think that the soldiers who died on the battlefield are weak, each made sure to make a good amount of enemies to follow them to the same destination, they have done nothing more than its obligation to the empire and will be consecrated with great honor. But this is nothing more than a dream that hunger stole. 
     
    Hunger took our home and the gods cursed us with an immortal body, but do not get us wrong, none of the men present here has fear and weakness in his eyes, no! They are warriors, they were bred to fight and that they will do. The gods want to have fun playing games, let them, we will dominate all worlds. Our empire will become stronger and when we eliminate the hunger, we will be prepared to deal with others who think they are worthy of the sacred battlefield, I swear this in the name of Valkyn, the All-Father. 
     
    I approach the soldiers and they begin to silence, understanding that I have something to talk about. I am known as Vaandus Shieldheart (unconfirmed) and I own the respect of my group, but I'm not the only centaur with higher rank on the square, but before my companions arrive, I give myself the pleasure to initiate the main event. 
     
    "Men! The gods are acting, you know what that means!? Means that the moment for which you trained your bodies for is coming, the time where we will fight for trophies and to demonstrate the superiority of our race! For this reason, I now start the war council! Here we will meet in the next few days (indefinitely) to discuss strategies that will be essential on the battlefield."
     
    (Personally, even if this topic becomes a forever alone, without response, I had fun imagining and writing about the scene, and has been a good chance to improve my English, so even if no person participate in this war council, I am grateful for giving a read in the text. Comment, need not be just a comment with the intention of participating in the role-play, just let it explicit when posting. Anyway, I love this race and I hope to see here other people who share this feeling.)
  22. Like
    vaands got a reaction from bahamutkaiser in What Class Will You Be!   
    You just flipped my trap card
     

  23. Like
    vaands reacted to bahamutkaiser in What Class Will You Be!   
    Pft, all these dual shields. DOING IT WRONG!
     
    Clearly, you need one bigger shield, amateurs lol.
     

  24. Like
    vaands got a reaction from bahamutkaiser in What Class Will You Be!   
    Somthing like this...
     

    Or one cenatur whit two shields
  25. Like
    vaands reacted to virt in Let Players Stave Off The Hunger   
    I think some campaigns should allow players to prevent the Hunger from consuming the world.
     
    I am a bit concerned about the "inevitability" of the Hunger. I get its purpose (i.e. prevent the game from becoming stale), but the certainty of the Hunger consuming the non-eternal game worlds could become stale in its own way. If you know the world is going to end no matter what you do (even if you win), you can get tired of that too. Basically this could be trading one "Uncle Bob's" existential crisis for another. On the other hand, a world whose fate is uncertain seems to me far more interesting and well suited to ensuring game longevity.
     
    Obviously we still do not know exactly how the Hunger works. It might be tied into the winning-condition mechanic (as one side gets closer to winning, the Hunger gets worse). Or they could be separate (the Hunger gets worse no matter what, and at the end, you may or may not have a group that wins). In either case the end is assured, either as a matter of game mechanics or because we can rely on players to trigger the winning condition if possible.
     
    So I am proposing that some worlds allow for a "capture" scenario as the winning-condition (or one of the possible winning-conditions, where the other conditions result in destruction). The capture scenario would only be available to guilds or factions that already control one of the Eternal Kingdoms. Once captured, the world becomes part of an Empire, and resources can generally travel back and forth between the two. This can go on forever if the "winner" manages the world properly. But the world will still be affected by a low level of Hunger, and it can still end. To use the Dev's terminology, captured worlds are persistent, with the potential to be permanent if properly maintained.
     
    Also, after being captured, the end-condition for the world changes. Now it is the incumbent's to lose, which would end the world. In other words, no one else can capture a world that has already been captured, they can only hope to destroyed the captured world (taking the spoils of war, whatever they may be). So another faction doesn't have to conquer the whole captured world. Instead, they just need to break the incumbent's grip enough for the Hunger to destroy the world.
     
    As a side-benefit, this also helps with the Uncle Bob problem, which might occur in the Eternal Kingdoms because those worlds cannot be reset. The problem is mitigated because now a percentage of the land owned by incumbents like Uncle Bob is just potentially permanent. This gives other players a better chance of unseating some land away from incumbents, and the Devs can play with the ratio between Eternal, Capturable, and Ephemeral worlds as appropriate to fit the needs of the current game population.
     
     
    TL;DR – Worlds that will inevitably die can get stale too, and it may be difficult to motivate people to invest in "yet another 4 month campaign" if the reward becomes just another trophy for the Eternal Kingdom (even if it is a cool trophy that grants powers). Players should have the chance to keep the Hunger from consuming some worlds by "capturing" those worlds. Others can try to release the captured worlds, which allows the Hunger to destroy them.
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