floop

Somewhere a Wailer recites a poem of mourning as he puts his son to bed.

In the old world the Plains CommonWealth was known as the breadbasket of America. Now it’s fertile lands run rampant with raiders, ruffians, and whatever other miscreants go bump in the Wasteland. The land once called Kansas is the most civilized of the former Plains CommonWealth states, in the north an upstart state formed by a collection of different cities has come to be known as the New Kansas Republic. The great merchant city of Coldwater, famed for it’s Casino, borders the NKR making themselves an attractive addition to the fledgling Republic. In the south of Kansas two great factions are at war, Gammorin, a former Brotherhood of Steel Paladin leads an army of Super Mutants against the Brotherhood. To the South in Oklahoma Caesar’s Red Okie Centuria attempts to expand in Caesar’s name after a reeling loss at the Hoover dam. In the Former Missouri a small town of Athens begins to expand their minds, and perhaps their territory as well? In the south of Missouri God’s work is being done, both by the quiet and humble Amish-like town of New Haven and the staunchly Catholic Papal Sate where the Neo-Pope reigns supreme. Iowa is a deadzone, it is said that no one who ventures into the state emerges again. To the North West in Nebraska Mormons have created a foothold and a burgeoning society, while in the South near the Kansas border the Nebraska rangers keep a loose peace in their territory, though not much more than that. There are many other factions in the Plains CommonWealth, who they are is a question I leave to you. OOC Section: This is a Fallout themed forum RP taking place in a discord server, I want things to be freeform and so all though there are some cannon factions, it’s entirely up to the players who they’d like to play! Just include your faction suggestion and what # you want on the map for territory in your application! Rules: 1. Landless groups, unmapped nations, and rebel groups are all available to play should you ask about them. 2. Supplies, manpower and other stats are all based on a sense of realism (as ultimately dictated by the mod.) 3. Mod has final say in all matters. 4. Both Meta and Power Gaming are of course banned. 5. One country, one person. 6. A player made faction may begin with up to 2 territories of their choice. 7. Posts must be submitted every Sunday and Wednesday by midnight PST, mod posts Application: Discord Name: Desired Faction: Once you’ve submitted an application please join the discord at https://discord.gg/pKx8Vme Available Factions: Gammorin’s Super Mutant Army The Kansas Brotherhood of Steel Merchant City of ColdWater Custom Faction Ideas Reserved Factions: New Kansas Republic Tribe of Joshua Nebraska Rangers Caesar’s Legion Athens New Haven Papal States

Heinrik Otto looks to his Cousin Stephen as they reminess together in the Seven Heavens.

Somewhere in the Seven Skies Heinrik reminds Stephen who's offspring ended up kings.

Henrik Otto looks at the man his nephew became. He thinks back to pushing young Jacob on the swing in Alban, better days. He'd greet his Cousin's bastard with a soft smile and nothing more.

Ser Aleksandr the Pious would put down his bow as the last of them fled, it saddened him to see such death but he knew it was for the good of Haense.

“And so Harren, Joren, and Godwin, the sons of the Chosen Himself, stood and watched the collapse of their home, by the hands of the once uncle of their kind. Harren cursed the Skies and above, the one of indulgence. Joren bellowed in rage, the one of wroth. And Godwin drank himself blind, the one of acedia. Soon the Aengul came down, the one which guided Horen years before. He sayeth one phrase, before sending the children to each corner of the world; ‘So is the Darkness That Comes Before.’” -The Book of Saints, Unknown - Regent Karl Sigmar Barbanov, City of Karlsburg, 1594 Karl’s attention snapped towards the rotund Medicus as he forced himself through the doorway of the manor, huffing as he stepped forward to inform the Prince the ultimate fate of his third child. The sweaty doctor would wipe his brow, wincing as he spoke “It’s a boy m’lord, healthy as an ox... your wife though…” he takes a deep breath, patting once more at his patchy face before continuing. “I’m afraid your wife did not make it sir” he finally spits out, shutting his eyes tightly, before peeking one open to see his master’s reaction. The man simply shakes his head, letting out a tired sigh, contemplating all of the death he had seen as of late. It seemed only a natural conclusion that his wife be another casualty of fate. “He will be Heinrik then” the weary regent nods, turning his solemn gaze out the window to the bustling street. “As my brother might have been.” - Heinrik, Count of Bihar, City of Mardon, 1610 - Stephen Karl, Prince of the Raev, City of Mardon 1610 Heinrik would flash a smile at his younger cousin Stephen, who had planted himself firmly across the oaken table of the tavern. The teenager would slide a bottle of ale to his cousin, motioning his head towards a Miller’s daughter relaxing with a gaggle of her friends near the entrance “What do you think Coz, she’s been given me the eyes all night, looks a good bit northern too aye?” The pudgy, younger boy smiling, taking a drink from the ale his cousin has passed him, stifling a laugh as he looks the lowborn girl over “Aye, she’s certainly your type of lass Coz” he’d lean forward, punching Heinrik on the shoulder “Should I expect ta’ see her warming your bed tonight then Heinrik, or are you a *****?” Heinrik would furrow his brow as he finishes the rest of his drink, before jovially shaking a fist at his cousin “Oy’ don’t you call me a fookin’ ***** Stephen Karl. Don’t think just because you’ll be king I’m not afraid of kicking your arse across this tavern!” Both of the boys share a rowdy laugh, before turning their attention once more to the Mardonese miller’s daughter. - Heinrik, Count of Bihar, Second Battle of the Rothswood, 1612 Heinrik took a deep breath as the men gathered on the field, pulling his helmet low and readying himself for battle. He looked around at the men around him, Rutherns, Kovachevs, Vanirs, Barbanovs, all men standing proud, ready to reclaim their homeland. They were outmanned, outgeared, and underprepared yet here they were. The steady blaring of drums became louder and louder as the Norlander mass charged into the fray, the two armies clashing in the field. Heinrik stands at the front of the Haeseni line, locking eyes with a young boy flying the Staunton colors. The armored Barbanov charges towards the enemy bannerman, quickly driving his spear into the boy’s neck. The Courlander falls, a sucking, bubbling neck wound bringing forth an agonizing demise. As the hot blood splatters onto Heinrik’s face through his helm, the unfamiliar stench of death fills the air, the scent of battle eventually becoming so overwhelming on the uncustomed boy that he was forced to his knees, quickly emptying the contents of his stomach onto the corpse of the poor Courlander, and the battlefield proper. As Heinrik regains his composure, the enemy cavalry begins it’s charge once more pushing across the field towards the Haeseni line. before he can get to his feet Heinrik, still heaving, is trampled by the thundering hooves of the warhorses, leaving sickly blue bruises upon his body and forcing him into a puddle of his own sick. As Heinrik lay there, covered in dirt, blood, he knew he’d reached a fork in the road of life, he could continue to lay there and wait out the battle, or join those still fighting to return the North to it’s rightful owners. It only took a few seconds before the young crow knew what he must do, fighting through the pain, and forcing himself to his feet in order to rejoin the men, and win the day for the people of Haense. - Stephen I, King of Hanseti-Ruska, Camp Barbanov 1616 - Heinrik, Count of Bihar, Camp Barbanov, 1616 “Coz” Heinrik would fold his hands behind his back as he stepped forward, fixing himself firmly near the regally dressed Stephen as they watch the men begin setting a frame for a new house. “We grow rapidly, we are currently by far the most populated human settlement, despite the severe lack of housing. Many flock from all around, willing to sleep in tents if only to feel the proud northern soil beneath their feet.” he takes a deep breath as he steps forward to begin hauling lumber, his cousin seems to sigh at Heinrik before stepping forward to do the same. “Aye cousin,” Stephen nods, helping Heinrik to pass some of the freshly chopped lumber to the laborers. “If we continue this growth, we will once more build a true home for the highlanders.” The young king wipes some sweat from his brow before continuing. “Stretching from the mighty Greyspine mountains, in all their grandeur, to the vast expanse of the Northmarch standing proud before GOD, and atop it all You, and I, Heinrik.” Heinrik nods to his cousin, brushing sawdust off of his ashen cloak.“A King, and his Palatine, a man, and his brother, if not by birth then by bond.” He nods once more, almost as if dipping his head to his cousin, and longtime friend, no doubt a sign of respect. “As it should be, as GOD’s grace demands.” Stephen would crack his neck, overlooking the mass of houses and buildings that was once nothing but a small collection of black, and yellow tents. “Aye, and it all begins here Cousin. From henceforth this shall no longer be the quaint Camp Barbanov, this shall be the mighty city of Alban, Jewel of the North.” - Heinrik, Count of Bihar, Alban , 1619 - Camille Renée of Raetia, Alban, 1619 Heinrik would hold his wife tightly, kissing her forehead as he hears one of the soldiers call his name, seemingly needing him for something. “Ah, my love, I’m afraid we must part once more, it seems duty calls once again.” He gives a tired sigh, the wooden pew gives off a loud creak as he gets to his feet, turning to face the door. As Heinrik turns he would feel a tug on his shoulder, he spins in place coming face to face with his wife’s soft grey eyes, her mouth forming a small listless frown as she looks him over. “My dear, I wish I could give you peace of mind.” The Lord Chancellor’s heart would seem to break as he realizes what he’s said to his poor wife, reaching out to gently set a hand beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Oh Camille,” he’d open his mouth, as if ready to speak, but nothing comes out for a moment. The tired man takes a deep breath, continuing on after collecting his thoughts. “My love, I have seen the gilded halls of the fair folk, I’ve felt the warm kiss of the Harian sun on my skin, and met many rare and exotic women, yet never in all of my years on GOD’s earth have I found any that can compare to you.” He leans forward as if to kiss her once more, but the cries of his name grow louder and more numerous, and so without another word he turned, departing through the heavy church doors. As the austere man walked away, Camille would look down at the floor once more, softly whispering “Thank you.” - Heinrik, Count of Bihar, Alban , 1624 - Natalia Julia of Alban, Alban, 1624 Heinrik groaned in pain as he stumbled into the grandhall of the Barbanovic Palace, limping his way towards the throne, using his gore covered shield as a makeshift crutch before collapsing on the floor before one of the great mess tables, making it just short of the dais. With a great heave, Heinrik would force himself up, leaning back on the table and clutching his injured side as warm blood darkens his soft brown uniform. The wounded man grimaces as he spots his teenage daughter, skipping happily before spotting her father and running towards him, concern dripping from her voice as she yells, “Sir! Why didn’t you go to a medic?!” The Palatine would shake his head, pulling his daughter close with a blood soaked gauntlet and embracing her against his wet side, saying nothing, simply holding the young girl close. Natalia would begin to panic, attempting to force the much larger man to his feet, stammering “We… we’ll get you a medic!” Heinrik shakes his head softly, splitting his parched lips and finally breaking his silence. “Enough, GOD is calling me Natalia, Stephen is calling to me.” His eyes would begin to mist as he looks the blood covered girl over, repeating as if for the hall to hear: “My daughter, my only daughter...” The man would cough, doubling forward in pain before centering himself once more, and reaching for the scabbard on his belt. A chain bearing a lorraine cross, previously tightly wound, unfurls itself as Heinrik would unclip his personal blade from his belt, sheath and all. “Nononono,” Natalia utters, starting to shake before her father, looking upon his twisted form wide eyed. “You’ll be okay, y-you’ll be okay!” “Worry not,” the proud father smiles, feebly holding the sword towards her, “This is for your brother Natalia, a relic of our line.” He’d begin coughing once more, blood staining his once white teeth a dull red. “Ensure he passes it to his children, and so forth. It must never be lost my daughter.” The blade slips from the girl’s distraught fingers, clattering to the floor before her, one of the large rubies in the Gold Crow pommel’s eyes cracking as it hits the floor. “Stop it!! Stop it Papa, please!! I can help you!” she pleaded with the man, paying no heed to the weapon at her feet. Heinrik would begin to cry softly, the tears cutting through the muck and grime on his face as he leaned forward to whisper something to his daughter, holding her close. As he pulls away the sobbing girl stares at him, dismayed. “What’s the point of carrying on if you aren’t here!” she begins to sob harder, resting her head upon her father’s chest. “The point, Natalia?” the man would belabordly raise a hand, running his fingers through the girl’s raven hair. “You are the point my dear, my bluet; your brother, all the other Northmen, this mad experiment in human perseverance we call Haense, and all those living within it’s borders. That is what we fight for!” Natalia’s grip around her father tightens, but her arms weaken, as she takes sharp, staggered breaths, the panic beating in her chest. “But you’re the one I’ve always fought for!” Heinrik would laugh weakly, squeezing his daughter as she tightens her grip. “No little one, you fight for yourself. You are a Barbanov my daughter, my only daughter, when Haense is strong, you are strong.” “I can’t be without you! You mean everything to me!” her shaky voice trails off, her tears falling softly upon her father’s bloodied tabard. “Yes you can,” Heinrik utters clutching the weeping girl’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze before finally succumbing to his wounds. His grip goes weak, his face turning soft, as his eyelids flicker before shutting a final time. Guardsmen would begin to gather around the two, the girl screaming desperately for her father who now lays upon the floor. The men hoist him up, and a Lorraine cross, the very cross his daughter had gifted him falls at her feet, the metal clanking as it hits the sword she’d previously dropped. As Heinrik closed his eyes darkness that comes before enveloped his vision, a whole, and total darkness.

Ali Al Zarqawi sharpens his blade

"Ok" Comments Heinrik Otto as he reads the rant, promptly returning to his duties

Meanwhile the wholesome Heinrik Otto and his cousin Stephen enjoy a game of chess, not needing drugs to have fun.

THE JOUST (NOBILITY ONLY) NAME: Prince Henry Otto AGE: 26 TITLE: Prince, Count of Bihar, Palatine of the Realm of Haense, etc. LAND OF ORIGIN/HOLDING: Haense MC NAME: FloopTroop

Full Name: Prince Heinrik Otto, Count of Bihar Age: 26 Residence: Parts Unknown Prior Experience: Yes

Full Name: Prince Henry Otto, Count of Bihar House Name: Barbanov Status of Blood [Royalty, Nobility, Gentry, etc.]: Royalty Titles [King or Queen, Prince or Princess, Archduke or Archduchess, Duke or Duchess, Marquise or Marchioness, Margrave or Margravine, Count or Countess, Viscount or Viscountess, Baron or Baroness, Knight or Dame]: Prince, Count of Bihar Direct Liege’s Name: Stephen I Amount of Levied Men: N/A. In service to the royal army Number of Citizens inhabiting any Fiefdoms: N/A Goods produced within your Lands: A multitude of goods produced within the Kingdom of Haense. Iron, other precious metals, forged armor and weaponry. The reasonable amount of Wealth or Assets you would be able to raise for Taxation: All personal wealth and assets are given to the Kingdom of Haense Do you, by this document, swear loyalty to the Emperor, Peter II Sigismund, and the Holy Orenian Empire until death? Do you hereby accept that treason and betrayal will be met with no clemency and that your lands shall be forfeit and repossessed by His Imperial Majesty should such action be taken?: I Prince Heinrik Otto, Count of Bihar, before the eyes of GOD and men alike to swear loyalty.

I've been in 3 LoTC pictures in 2 days. We made it mama!