(mmmmmh but i like volcanic.... but my men as i told they use iron-leather not full armours and the leader has volcanic... or say No volcanic and my leader will have obsidian)
(pageclaim)
"Land ahead!" Says the capitan, an human/demon that helped us in our journey, also he owns the Doombringer, our war ship that has 40 cannons , each one with hell cannonballs that will fire up things. "Ok, capitan, any mountains?" (Ill make a little changes to the landscape of your map if you dont mind...) I say in Orc language to the capitan, in a friendly tone. "Good choise, mountains will cover us and will protect our weakness, the defence..." Says my advisor, an orc/demon called Harg, an exelent warrion and knows alot of human language (asuming that there is one language and its english, ok?) "Well, i was raised on the mountains, but i would like to visit the Legion..." I say while i sit down "We all do..." Says Hilith my greatest warrior, an young Orc (i wont say again demon because ALL my people is half demon) girl that has great skills with his powerful weapon, an bow that is sharp in the edges and is made of hell steel, it will never break (can there be magic? just a question, so i can have chamans....) , like my sword The Soulcutter, an sword made for Mannoroth, an great demon that Hellscream killed during The Hell war where the orcs gained their freedom when hellscream killed the great warlord Mannoroth, when Mannoroth thought that Hellscream were dead Hellscream grabed is sword and cutted the Warlord head off, when Mannoroth were dead, Hellscream became the leader of the Legion, then the humans defeated us and i was exilied, the humans offers the orcs to join them many accepted and the rest came with me , with loyalty... We took our warships and left that land... Kalimindor.
Name of kingdom: Serenissime Republica de Chairoscuro Amount of soldiers (Be fair): Standing professional retinue of 900 Type of government: Merchant/Oligarchic Republic Armour and weaponry: Light Partial plate worn under a red surcoat embroidered with the White and Black of the Grand City of Chairoscuro. Long red feathers often adorn the Falling buffe helmets of these combatants. The typical weapon of the city is that of the halberd and short sword, supplemented with small tear-dropped Heater shields.
The civilian members that make up the informal part-time Citizen militiae are trained predominately with the crossbow from the age of six as a local cultural tradition. These men may be armed with a supplemental hatchet, knife, or what they may own besides the crossbow and armored with loose padding or boiled leather. Other: The Serene Republic has exited for many centuries in some form of another. Phasing in and out of power as the conditions allowed before being ultimately absorbed in vassalage to the Crown. The plying of their mercantile naval trade continued on trading salt, spices, and slaves. However the Crown Taxes the Republic's Merchant Families was stifling for business trade and the Eight Families of the Republic never knew a golden age again in over a century.
Though with the King dead and the realm embroiled in a secession crisis the Serenissime Republica de Chairoscuro demands independence once again and has taken to the call to denounce the crown and achieve its goals and to rule the seas as a sole power.
The Serence Republic is ruled by a collection of ten Merchant Families who trade power as each of the family patriarchs are elected Serenissima Doge. The title of Doge being a position elected on the death of the last from the oldest members of the merchant families, the chance to foot the bill to run as Doge coming at the price of a payment to the Republic's coffers as overseen by the Steward of the Realm. A move that keeps the powerful in power.
In addition to the Doge the city maintains a Seat of Ten, which serves as a administrative council operated by the oldest matriarchs. Their task in this seat being the administration of the Republic in the time of Election and when the Doge is in absence. Their power is otherwise then delegated to judicial matters and the settling of disputes as handed to the Council.
It would appear to outsiders though that the nature of the Republic is volatile and constantly divided. And though family feuds exists they stand united in a common goal of independence and the promise to be the ruling party in the Most Serene Republic of Chairoscuro and to lead a new age.
Merchant Houses of the Chairoscuro:
- House Albus
- House Niger
- House Juditha
- House Eracla
- House Anafeso
- House Lira
- House Manen
- House Balugio
- House Genovino
- House Chrisio
Also, Pi is a silly thing since the rules are pretty much straight-forward for every RP ever. If I might add as well: the map is simply appalling and I can't tell what is what. There's little in the way of landmarks in the form of oceans, rivers, lakes, mountains, hills, forests, potentially important holy sites, etc, etc.
But on that note, if that no-descript blue blob in the top-left corner is an ocean: I would like to be on it. If not, then I request to draw a formal map that doesn't look like a flat slab of terrain that renders us all Cumans.
Amount of soldiers (Be fair): ~500 professional soldiers
Type of government: Absolutist Monarchy
Armour and weaponry: Typically, Alaivian armor is composed of heavy steel plated armor atop a grey and blue cotton uniform. Typical weaponry is a shortsword with steel shield or just a steel-tipped spear. Archery units are armed with a small composite bow made of Alaivian wood. Cavalry units are armed with similar weaponry.
Other: The Alavian ethnic group was originally settled much more north than here. They lived in small tribal settlements in the mountains, around streams or rivers, where nobody disturbed them. The ragged terrain, however, limited interaction with other populations and resulted in a highly xenophobic and reclusive society. When the Alavian tribes banded together, their new civilization, ruled by King Heza I, vowed to defend their borders from who they regarded as barbaric outsiders. The small kingdom became walled off, and trade was conducted through a single village, much like Ming Chinese or isolationistic Japanese policies in the real world. However, when it became evident the Alavian people had developed highly complicated technology such as metalworking and woodblock printing, a trade caravan armed itself and prepared for combat.
The Alavians rushed to defend themselves against the profit-driven mercenaries sent towards them, but were mercilessly slaughtered with 4:1 odds. The capital of Hezava, situated far inland, was quickly put under siege. For a year, the mercenaries blockaded Hezava until King Lrosqa V surrendered. In return, he and his government was beheaded by the occupying force and the treasury sacked. The civilians were forced out and left on their own, to where they quickly migrated south. Only roughly half of the Alavian population survived what would come to be termed as the Great Invasion. Many spread out in all directions, but the vast majority headed south to the northern mountains of wherever the hell the game world is. Over time, they rebuilt their kingdom as a compact, walled fortress in the mountains. This new Kingdom of New Alavia was devoted for the protection of the Alavian people against foreign barbarians, and the cautiously xenophobic government and citizens kept a vigilant watch for any invaders. Also, Pi.
I would ask for you to make your men 500 or less soldiers, otherwise accepted.. Hang pn, no, if ypur going to make fun of my map, denied.
And why would I keep it under 500 when you're running about with a thousand? That feels a little off balance. Granted, you have the political seat, but I'm claiming a mercantile seat.
I have to add dont make fun of me yto it. And i meant storyline etc. i guess accepted. But one word of hate and your out. And to you: I am the capital.
Name of kingdom: Amora Amount of soldiers (Be fair): 850 Type of government: Imperialistic Armour and weaponry: Leather for the recruits, iron for the knights, and only the strongest steel for the commanders.The weapons that we use are mainly attacking weapons. This includes, swords,pikes and crossbows. My people follow a very strict fighting pattern, they are all Elven, for we are an Elven empire.
Other: My kingdom is focused on its military, but is very low on resources, this is why we have the idea of invading others to gain what we need to keep our economy together, but my people are on an uprising, they have taken arms and started slaughtering government officials, they were immediately dispatched, but the anger is still on the rise, I have guaranteed them a stronger and more viable enemy, other than themselves. The enemy is anyone who opposes us. Pi
"There are many things in this world, malign things. If you come with me, you will be sparred, if you stay here, I pity your foolishness." -Tzun Lajn (Me)
Bro, if you can't handle constructive criticism... I don't know how you're going to function...
(Yeah... If you're going to interpret a little constructive feedback as being "words of hate" you're not going to go far. It's a wise thing to roll with it and take it into practice.
But on this note:)
Chairoscuro
The chiming of bells echoed over the city as peasants and dock workers hustled on with their day. Striking high-noon the great iron bells of the Basillica de Serene made their great rolling hymns. Clanging boastful yet some how mournful tunes, proud yet humble notes they rang to the bright arching sky above them. The red clay of roof tops stretching from around the basillica's walls, roads leading out in spokes as in a wheel. Interconnecting streets bringing these thoroughfares together in a maze of geometry leading to the fields and towards the sea where the Armory de Chairoscuro sat like an island fortress in the heart of great bay. On the walls, towers of somber orange and rich reds stood a vigil between the city and the countryside. For a mile, a flat green expanse dotted with stretches of golden wheat fields lay across the earth's bosom.
Over these scenes the chimes of the iron bells rolled in calling to the ears of nobility and merchants. Horses converged on the large temple with its great round roof. Armored down in the same red shingles of the outside. The rugged plaster walls painted over in a miniature frescoes of scenes of romantic success and riches. Trees laden with golden apples, sheep with silver wool, men and women holding baskets full of fish and wheat.
The visitors that rode up to the halls paid little heed to the reminders of their eternal goals. Faces hidden behind masks of ivory bearing exaggerated cartoon expressions. Wide smiles that bent the eyes into little more than C-shaped slits. Long noses that hooked down to their chins. Or on others, extreme scowls, frowns, and demonesque shapes. Coifs, cowls, and other large hats topped with blooming displays of feathers decorated their heads and hid the remainder of their heads from view with rich silk veils that dropped upon and fell about upon velvet robes of purple, gold and white, or red and orange.
As the riders rode to the doors they dismounted, the horses being attended to by the basilica's guard. Soldiers as attendants helping their riders to the street and taking their mounts by the reigns to the stables nearby. Another pair of richly armored men stepping to the side and opening the great doors, opening a portal to the darkened temple inside. The men bowed and nodded politely to the guards as they entered through.
Entering the basilica the men stepped into an environment scented of honey and foreign incense. Their boots falling on the great and wide marble flooring, patterned with interchanging white and grape-fruit pink tiles. The subtle dark-lines in the tiles giving a sense of flesh in the floor. Beams of sunlight shown through the great glass windows creating columns of light in the haze and mist that loosed as solid as the pillars that held the ceiling aloft.
At the head of the hall stood a limestone statue that was the symbol of their trade. Their great goddess of the sea and of money: Negotiari. And at her supple breasts she held the liquor of their endeavors, the honey of success in a vase of gold leaf which she poured in a frozen stony fall to a pool below. And at the feet of her altar sat the stands of the Doge, and the Seat of Ten, flanking the central podium where the richly endowed Doge sat in wings of perfect symmetry.
The Doge himself was an elderly man. Held down by the heavy robes he wore and the large pointed red hat he held sway over the chambers as the men entered through the doors and into the halls. The wives of the families sitting at their seats to fulfill their duties for this day: to simply be present.
As the patrons encroached on the council seats they reached to their heads and removed their masks. Revealing to the candle light their human faces. Rich men, successful men. Yay, some bore scratches on their person as do most people. But not baked to the sun, or burned in the fires of furnaces. And mauled by tree, animal, or man. Well groomed they assembled to hear the topic of the assembly.
"Serenissima Doge," a man said smiling, "Montique Niger you old badger, what is of pertinence of this day? I have ships to send to sail."
The old man at the pulpit, Montique Niger di Chairscuro the old nodded. His title fit his name well, being a man beyond the normal advanced ages he had come to celebrate his birthday at the age of seventy-nine years. Dark blotches on his face and hanging wrinkles doing well to betray his physicality. Though, his hair remained a thick mat of white atop his scalp that grew to great measures as it unfurled from underneath his cap. His eyes still looked full of energy and vigor as a shaky hand went to the edge of the pulpit as he stood. "A matter which has been of high interest for generations." he said in a commanding voice, "We have received word from the Throne that the king as fallen. Is this all that will be arriving at my summons then, Scuro Lira?"
"Nah your honor," another man said in deep respect. His face plush with a trimmed beard, "On my departure of my house my brothers were still getting ready. My father is too ill to have attended today, so I am trusted as his envoy on this matter if my brothers do not make it."
"I see Gabrial Chrisio." Montique said, "Then, if we are all envoys of our respective houses then let it be known to those of you diligent enough to come. I will have it written to those missing the topics of today.
"But as it would seem from my ears, the king has fallen ill." the Doge said, "His son, who some may argue is too young to take the reigns, and not wise to the matters that rule the world is due to receive the crown, and the dues to his titles of the realm. And as hear-say suggests, there are many a party rather disgruntled at the change of hands in the kingdom.
"It is therefore, with discussions with The Ten that we make our bold deceleration. And that our whispers are shouts. And like our bells our voices will boom over the hills to those ivory towers in the midland. And we will say, our centuries of servitude are to an end!" the men in the room were stricken to silence as the Doge stood at his pulpit, "It is, in the interests of the Republic, that all lands from the Grand City of Torino to that of the Duchies and Baronies of Contoro are surrendered to the Grand Republic as a holding within the crown of the Republic, as determined by our de jure rights and traditions since the rule of Barsoni Albus."
The chamber stood silent in its awe. Only the Doge and the council looked totally complacent and aware of the measure they had declared. The gathered lords of the houses stood in taken awe as they exchanged their amazed looks. "Your Honor!" a voice shouted, "I do declare this to a brilliant deceleration for our people!"
The men turned to the applauding young man at the back of the crowd. Continuing he shouted: "Though we here are nervous to follow the deceleration of voice I stand to say that it is certainly that has been vested in all of our interests!
"My friends and countrymen, and fellow competitors in this grand game of ours. See this as a great unburdening to the interests of our continued craft! We've been ruled for too long by midlanders who would die without us! For their repression of our sacred rights, I echo that we do secede, and heartily encourage our most serene doge in carrying this call out!"
The ice broken, the room whispered. Then joining the lone man in his applause followed with their own. Growing from a lone fringe to a common agreement carried by thunder and the clapping of hands like heavy rain on the roof. Emboldened, the Doge smiled. "My fellows," he said, raising his hands and silencing them, "Though as great a endeavor as this I appreciate your support. But this is only the first step, and we must finish our move. Though I have made the deceleration to you, it has yet to reach the vacant throne. And I realize, that this will not be the end of our quest, but merely the beginning of it. And until we see the crown formally strike us from their claims we must be vigil, and we must plan.
"So carry to your families. On this evening I invite every men of the Great Houses to my own home and we will dine to our quest as our ancestors did, and plan and plot our route as our captains do. Secure your ports gentlemen and I ask of you one rarity: to stow away your knives, and for a few months, or a few years hold each other in your arms until the Thorn of Chairoscuro is plucked from the crown."
Ohhhh, I see... So you really don't want the Gang of Shakespeare here.
I have to add dont make fun of me yto it. And i meant storyline etc. i guess accepted. But one word of hate and your out. And to you: I am the capital.
I see, I thought you's have me. At least only on a probationary basis at first.
(pageclaim)
"Land ahead!" Says the capitan, an human/demon that helped us in our journey, also he owns the Doombringer, our war ship that has 40 cannons , each one with hell cannonballs that will fire up things. "Ok, capitan, any mountains?" (Ill make a little changes to the landscape of your map if you dont mind...) I say in Orc language to the capitan, in a friendly tone. "Good choise, mountains will cover us and will protect our weakness, the defence..." Says my advisor, an orc/demon called Harg, an exelent warrion and knows alot of human language (asuming that there is one language and its english, ok?) "Well, i was raised on the mountains, but i would like to visit the Legion..." I say while i sit down "We all do..." Says Hilith my greatest warrior, an young Orc (i wont say again demon because ALL my people is half demon) girl that has great skills with his powerful weapon, an bow that is sharp in the edges and is made of hell steel, it will never break (can there be magic? just a question, so i can have chamans....) , like my sword The Soulcutter, an sword made for Mannoroth, an great demon that Hellscream killed during The Hell war where the orcs gained their freedom when hellscream killed the great warlord Mannoroth, when Mannoroth thought that Hellscream were dead Hellscream grabed is sword and cutted the Warlord head off, when Mannoroth were dead, Hellscream became the leader of the Legion, then the humans defeated us and i was exilied, the humans offers the orcs to join them many accepted and the rest came with me , with loyalty... We took our warships and left that land... Kalimindor.
Amount of soldiers (Be fair): Standing professional retinue of 900
Type of government: Merchant/Oligarchic Republic
Armour and weaponry: Light Partial plate worn under a red surcoat embroidered with the White and Black of the Grand City of Chairoscuro. Long red feathers often adorn the Falling buffe helmets of these combatants. The typical weapon of the city is that of the halberd and short sword, supplemented with small tear-dropped Heater shields.
The civilian members that make up the informal part-time Citizen militiae are trained predominately with the crossbow from the age of six as a local cultural tradition. These men may be armed with a supplemental hatchet, knife, or what they may own besides the crossbow and armored with loose padding or boiled leather.
Other: The Serene Republic has exited for many centuries in some form of another. Phasing in and out of power as the conditions allowed before being ultimately absorbed in vassalage to the Crown. The plying of their mercantile naval trade continued on trading salt, spices, and slaves. However the Crown Taxes the Republic's Merchant Families was stifling for business trade and the Eight Families of the Republic never knew a golden age again in over a century.
Though with the King dead and the realm embroiled in a secession crisis the Serenissime Republica de Chairoscuro demands independence once again and has taken to the call to denounce the crown and achieve its goals and to rule the seas as a sole power.
The Serence Republic is ruled by a collection of ten Merchant Families who trade power as each of the family patriarchs are elected Serenissima Doge. The title of Doge being a position elected on the death of the last from the oldest members of the merchant families, the chance to foot the bill to run as Doge coming at the price of a payment to the Republic's coffers as overseen by the Steward of the Realm. A move that keeps the powerful in power.
In addition to the Doge the city maintains a Seat of Ten, which serves as a administrative council operated by the oldest matriarchs. Their task in this seat being the administration of the Republic in the time of Election and when the Doge is in absence. Their power is otherwise then delegated to judicial matters and the settling of disputes as handed to the Council.
It would appear to outsiders though that the nature of the Republic is volatile and constantly divided. And though family feuds exists they stand united in a common goal of independence and the promise to be the ruling party in the Most Serene Republic of Chairoscuro and to lead a new age.
Merchant Houses of the Chairoscuro:
- House Albus
- House Niger
- House Juditha
- House Eracla
- House Anafeso
- House Lira
- House Manen
- House Balugio
- House Genovino
- House Chrisio
Also, Pi is a silly thing since the rules are pretty much straight-forward for every RP ever. If I might add as well: the map is simply appalling and I can't tell what is what. There's little in the way of landmarks in the form of oceans, rivers, lakes, mountains, hills, forests, potentially important holy sites, etc, etc.
But on that note, if that no-descript blue blob in the top-left corner is an ocean: I would like to be on it. If not, then I request to draw a formal map that doesn't look like a flat slab of terrain that renders us all Cumans.
My DeviantArt, so sexy
Amount of soldiers (Be fair): ~500 professional soldiers
Type of government: Absolutist Monarchy
Armour and weaponry: Typically, Alaivian armor is composed of heavy steel plated armor atop a grey and blue cotton uniform. Typical weaponry is a shortsword with steel shield or just a steel-tipped spear. Archery units are armed with a small composite bow made of Alaivian wood. Cavalry units are armed with similar weaponry.
Other: The Alavian ethnic group was originally settled much more north than here. They lived in small tribal settlements in the mountains, around streams or rivers, where nobody disturbed them. The ragged terrain, however, limited interaction with other populations and resulted in a highly xenophobic and reclusive society. When the Alavian tribes banded together, their new civilization, ruled by King Heza I, vowed to defend their borders from who they regarded as barbaric outsiders. The small kingdom became walled off, and trade was conducted through a single village, much like Ming Chinese or isolationistic Japanese policies in the real world. However, when it became evident the Alavian people had developed highly complicated technology such as metalworking and woodblock printing, a trade caravan armed itself and prepared for combat.
The Alavians rushed to defend themselves against the profit-driven mercenaries sent towards them, but were mercilessly slaughtered with 4:1 odds. The capital of Hezava, situated far inland, was quickly put under siege. For a year, the mercenaries blockaded Hezava until King Lrosqa V surrendered. In return, he and his government was beheaded by the occupying force and the treasury sacked. The civilians were forced out and left on their own, to where they quickly migrated south. Only roughly half of the Alavian population survived what would come to be termed as the Great Invasion. Many spread out in all directions, but the vast majority headed south to the northern mountains of wherever the hell the game world is. Over time, they rebuilt their kingdom as a compact, walled fortress in the mountains. This new Kingdom of New Alavia was devoted for the protection of the Alavian people against foreign barbarians, and the cautiously xenophobic government and citizens kept a vigilant watch for any invaders. Also, Pi.
It's constructive criticism. Chill the hell out. Also, you even said this yourself:
You can't deny him. That makes you a hypocrite.
And why would I keep it under 500 when you're running about with a thousand? That feels a little off balance. Granted, you have the political seat, but I'm claiming a mercantile seat.
And you really can't take such simple feedback?
My DeviantArt, so sexy
...
Wut?
Bro, if you can't handle constructive criticism... I don't know how you're going to function...
Lol.
youmad.jpg
Amount of soldiers (Be fair): 850
Type of government: Imperialistic
Armour and weaponry: Leather for the recruits, iron for the knights, and only the strongest steel for the commanders.The weapons that we use are mainly attacking weapons. This includes, swords,pikes and crossbows. My people follow a very strict fighting pattern, they are all Elven, for we are an Elven empire.
Other: My kingdom is focused on its military, but is very low on resources, this is why we have the idea of invading others to gain what we need to keep our economy together, but my people are on an uprising, they have taken arms and started slaughtering government officials, they were immediately dispatched, but the anger is still on the rise, I have guaranteed them a stronger and more viable enemy, other than themselves. The enemy is anyone who opposes us. Pi
(Yeah... If you're going to interpret a little constructive feedback as being "words of hate" you're not going to go far. It's a wise thing to roll with it and take it into practice.
But on this note:)
Chairoscuro
The chiming of bells echoed over the city as peasants and dock workers hustled on with their day. Striking high-noon the great iron bells of the Basillica de Serene made their great rolling hymns. Clanging boastful yet some how mournful tunes, proud yet humble notes they rang to the bright arching sky above them. The red clay of roof tops stretching from around the basillica's walls, roads leading out in spokes as in a wheel. Interconnecting streets bringing these thoroughfares together in a maze of geometry leading to the fields and towards the sea where the Armory de Chairoscuro sat like an island fortress in the heart of great bay. On the walls, towers of somber orange and rich reds stood a vigil between the city and the countryside. For a mile, a flat green expanse dotted with stretches of golden wheat fields lay across the earth's bosom.
Over these scenes the chimes of the iron bells rolled in calling to the ears of nobility and merchants. Horses converged on the large temple with its great round roof. Armored down in the same red shingles of the outside. The rugged plaster walls painted over in a miniature frescoes of scenes of romantic success and riches. Trees laden with golden apples, sheep with silver wool, men and women holding baskets full of fish and wheat.
The visitors that rode up to the halls paid little heed to the reminders of their eternal goals. Faces hidden behind masks of ivory bearing exaggerated cartoon expressions. Wide smiles that bent the eyes into little more than C-shaped slits. Long noses that hooked down to their chins. Or on others, extreme scowls, frowns, and demonesque shapes. Coifs, cowls, and other large hats topped with blooming displays of feathers decorated their heads and hid the remainder of their heads from view with rich silk veils that dropped upon and fell about upon velvet robes of purple, gold and white, or red and orange.
As the riders rode to the doors they dismounted, the horses being attended to by the basilica's guard. Soldiers as attendants helping their riders to the street and taking their mounts by the reigns to the stables nearby. Another pair of richly armored men stepping to the side and opening the great doors, opening a portal to the darkened temple inside. The men bowed and nodded politely to the guards as they entered through.
Entering the basilica the men stepped into an environment scented of honey and foreign incense. Their boots falling on the great and wide marble flooring, patterned with interchanging white and grape-fruit pink tiles. The subtle dark-lines in the tiles giving a sense of flesh in the floor. Beams of sunlight shown through the great glass windows creating columns of light in the haze and mist that loosed as solid as the pillars that held the ceiling aloft.
At the head of the hall stood a limestone statue that was the symbol of their trade. Their great goddess of the sea and of money: Negotiari. And at her supple breasts she held the liquor of their endeavors, the honey of success in a vase of gold leaf which she poured in a frozen stony fall to a pool below. And at the feet of her altar sat the stands of the Doge, and the Seat of Ten, flanking the central podium where the richly endowed Doge sat in wings of perfect symmetry.
The Doge himself was an elderly man. Held down by the heavy robes he wore and the large pointed red hat he held sway over the chambers as the men entered through the doors and into the halls. The wives of the families sitting at their seats to fulfill their duties for this day: to simply be present.
As the patrons encroached on the council seats they reached to their heads and removed their masks. Revealing to the candle light their human faces. Rich men, successful men. Yay, some bore scratches on their person as do most people. But not baked to the sun, or burned in the fires of furnaces. And mauled by tree, animal, or man. Well groomed they assembled to hear the topic of the assembly.
"Serenissima Doge," a man said smiling, "Montique Niger you old badger, what is of pertinence of this day? I have ships to send to sail."
The old man at the pulpit, Montique Niger di Chairscuro the old nodded. His title fit his name well, being a man beyond the normal advanced ages he had come to celebrate his birthday at the age of seventy-nine years. Dark blotches on his face and hanging wrinkles doing well to betray his physicality. Though, his hair remained a thick mat of white atop his scalp that grew to great measures as it unfurled from underneath his cap. His eyes still looked full of energy and vigor as a shaky hand went to the edge of the pulpit as he stood. "A matter which has been of high interest for generations." he said in a commanding voice, "We have received word from the Throne that the king as fallen. Is this all that will be arriving at my summons then, Scuro Lira?"
"Nah your honor," another man said in deep respect. His face plush with a trimmed beard, "On my departure of my house my brothers were still getting ready. My father is too ill to have attended today, so I am trusted as his envoy on this matter if my brothers do not make it."
"I see Gabrial Chrisio." Montique said, "Then, if we are all envoys of our respective houses then let it be known to those of you diligent enough to come. I will have it written to those missing the topics of today.
"But as it would seem from my ears, the king has fallen ill." the Doge said, "His son, who some may argue is too young to take the reigns, and not wise to the matters that rule the world is due to receive the crown, and the dues to his titles of the realm. And as hear-say suggests, there are many a party rather disgruntled at the change of hands in the kingdom.
"It is therefore, with discussions with The Ten that we make our bold deceleration. And that our whispers are shouts. And like our bells our voices will boom over the hills to those ivory towers in the midland. And we will say, our centuries of servitude are to an end!" the men in the room were stricken to silence as the Doge stood at his pulpit, "It is, in the interests of the Republic, that all lands from the Grand City of Torino to that of the Duchies and Baronies of Contoro are surrendered to the Grand Republic as a holding within the crown of the Republic, as determined by our de jure rights and traditions since the rule of Barsoni Albus."
The chamber stood silent in its awe. Only the Doge and the council looked totally complacent and aware of the measure they had declared. The gathered lords of the houses stood in taken awe as they exchanged their amazed looks. "Your Honor!" a voice shouted, "I do declare this to a brilliant deceleration for our people!"
The men turned to the applauding young man at the back of the crowd. Continuing he shouted: "Though we here are nervous to follow the deceleration of voice I stand to say that it is certainly that has been vested in all of our interests!
"My friends and countrymen, and fellow competitors in this grand game of ours. See this as a great unburdening to the interests of our continued craft! We've been ruled for too long by midlanders who would die without us! For their repression of our sacred rights, I echo that we do secede, and heartily encourage our most serene doge in carrying this call out!"
The ice broken, the room whispered. Then joining the lone man in his applause followed with their own. Growing from a lone fringe to a common agreement carried by thunder and the clapping of hands like heavy rain on the roof. Emboldened, the Doge smiled. "My fellows," he said, raising his hands and silencing them, "Though as great a endeavor as this I appreciate your support. But this is only the first step, and we must finish our move. Though I have made the deceleration to you, it has yet to reach the vacant throne. And I realize, that this will not be the end of our quest, but merely the beginning of it. And until we see the crown formally strike us from their claims we must be vigil, and we must plan.
"So carry to your families. On this evening I invite every men of the Great Houses to my own home and we will dine to our quest as our ancestors did, and plan and plot our route as our captains do. Secure your ports gentlemen and I ask of you one rarity: to stow away your knives, and for a few months, or a few years hold each other in your arms until the Thorn of Chairoscuro is plucked from the crown."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
Ohhhh, I see... So you really don't want the Gang of Shakespeare here.
I see, I thought you's have me. At least only on a probationary basis at first.
My DeviantArt, so sexy