calculusdesola

Riordain MacDroch-Armas solemnly attends Sir Frederick’s state funeral, the man becoming recluse for a time, not long after his uncle’s death. His benefactor and the closest thing he’d had to a father, taken by the long cold sleep. There was nothing inordinately special about this, but it struck the now-aging ginger Harrenite quite hard. As MacDroch sat grieving his benefactor with brandy and pipe, he fondly recalled daring infiltrations of numerous settlements alongside his uncle, Cocaine Fred. He recalled, in the decades past, watching Frederick personally kill enemies of the state. At the end of this brandy and smoke imbibe, Riordain concluded that every last thing he knew was owed to his uncle. “A man of this legend cannae go unsung..”

boomer here. I know LOTC’s past and I know your future.

“STRONG.” Riordain cheers, punching a fist in the air. The ginger minister chomped his Carrington cigar between his teeth, inhaling smoke profusely at the news.

A taciturn Lieutenant Battista encounters a newly-pinned flier, showcasing all the history of Rubern’s atrocities. “Then, destroy these mad brutes!” he scowled and declared, cracking his knuckles and wringing his hands. Rubern had made itself known.

Riordain grumbles as he waits for the nonsensical last-stand to be declared by Rubern.

“God save the Emperor!” grunts Cade, as he chomps his Rochefort.

Name: Chaquerois OOC USERNAME: ronjeremus Allegience: No one. Skill (low, medium, high): low

Riordain nonchalantly posts his Everardine ballot, as expected of him...

Well said. I feel like a significant portion of LOTC takes the activity and roleplay contribution of Oren and Humans for granted, and always has.

A great many people have voiced an interest in seeing some form of technological advance. I think rudimentary firearms like flintlocks or blunderbusses are plausible, and we ought to give the idea a chance. There’s not a whole lot that makes crossbows any less brutal or barbaric than modern assault rifles, imo.

Screamers of the Imperial Ministry of Intelligence stealthily observe the moored ship from a distance with their telescopes...

The hearty Harrenite MacDroch grunts as he gives the commissioner a parchment with his info and his deposit. He wants a stab at 500 so he signs on for the middleweight.