grnappa

Actually, I really like that idea tbh

What's sad about this is that 1/2 of these comments are just gonna be "I hate Oren" rather than actually providing critical feedback. That being said, so long as they operate the same as crossbows then I dont see the issue. +1

"Othamans shall fight and blood shall be spilt. I have had enough of dancing about the various departments and administrations over this issue of succession." "My ancestors never went to court whenever there was an issue to settle. Instead, they would fight until one surrendered. Why should this be any different?" "Let the fight commence!" boomed the Count of Valles.

"There are a lot of Eriks - please specify!" exclaimed Erik as he gazed over the mirror, his grandson, and his son.

The aging Count of Valles read the missive as he scratched his wrinkled chin, leaning back in his wooden chair. There was much to contemplate over the past year. "These MRA lads really do have a rather unconventional stance on warfare." He'd note to himself. "The simple fact of the matter is that the deaths of Norlanders was brought entirely upon themselves. So many lives would have been saved if the King did nie declare war. But he did, and his allies have all left him for dead. He had a choice to surrender and cease these hostilities, however he has failed to do so." "How can a nation who claims to be a great power fail to protect its own citizenry from a few poorly equipped rabble-rousers? I guess they didn't expect that people from both sides suffer in war, not just the enemy." He'd scoff at the ridiculousness of the whole affair. "Next time, don't declare war."

The Count of Valles shudders as he reads the missive. He knows what one driven musin can achieve, let alone an entire colony of musin. The aged Veteran sends a letter of peace to Needle 'The Warmonger.' The contents of the letter would simply say 'Peace please,' in addition to containing a rather large chocolate chip cookie offered as tribute.

The Count of Valles held up a finger as he pointed to his ward to start speaking. It was a long and grueling lesson on public speaking and the Count knew such. He'd shake his head as the boy faltered in the middle of his practice speech. Finally, the Count gave some importance advice to his young ward. "Remember boy, if vy ever feel as if vy are going to falter, always make sure to project."

The Count of Valles rolls out of bed as he went to brush his hair and get ready for the day ahead. Yawning, he'd stumble over to his nightstand before tilting his head at the strange letter upon it. Curious, the aging Count went to read the letter out loud to himself. Upon reaching the bottom, he let out a simple sigh. "I'm going back to bed."

Sir Erik Othaman frowned as he listened to his ward speak. He'd shake his head towards the boy as the aged Knight is unable to comprehend his ward's modern word usage. "Cope? What kind of word is that, boy? Speak properly."

USERNAME: grnappa RP NAME: Karl Demetrius EVENTS ENTERING (Individual/Pairs/Both): Individual PAIRS PARTNER (if applicable): N/A

Parley in Elysium - The Duke’s Word 19th Sigismund’s End 1819 ~Duke Eugeo of Elysium and Major Iskander Basrid shaking hands circa 1819~ Major Iskander Basrid of the Imperial State Army set forth from the Capital of Providence in 1819. Many thoughts ran through his head as he marched with his men as they went across the country. The foreign diplomats in Providence had made one thing clear in the minds of the Imperial Soldiers, Elysium was not the target of war. Elysium was just as much a victim to the warmongering Chief Sven as the Empire was. Even so, Chief Sven’s soldiers inhabited it, and they were their target. With 1000 steadfast members of the Imperial State Army and 200 Hounds of Don, the force snaked its way through the Imperial Heartland up the River Augusta to make landfall near Elysium. Making their way ashore, the brave men of the Empire circled around the North of Elysium, searching for any signs of life from the city as they huddled near their fires. After a moment, the Orenian force spotted two figures in the snow. It was then that the combined force of Imperial soldiers and the mercenaries fell upon Rheinhart Stamirsk & Emerald Guenevere wandering outside the safety of their walls. Sir Anthony Alexios encountered the pair first at the behest of Lord Robert Don’s steadfast eye. With his contingent of men the Basrid ordered them to raise their hands. The Elysian soldiers quickly set down their weapons, knowing that they were outnumbered against the Imperial contingent. The Elysian diplomat to Oren, Inui Caromud was at this time found by Lord Robert shivering in the cold wastes. Whisking her to the assembled group upon his steed, Inui quickly announced her efforts to negotiate the release of the prisoners that had been captured. “Please Orenians! Let us work this out with peace and not blades!” Inui spoke passionately on behalf of her countrymen. Nodding in agreement, Major Iskander Basrid allowed the Elysian diplomat to return to the city. Inui returned with a large host of Varhelm and Elysian bannermen under the command of Duke Eugeo who began parley with Sir Iskander Basrid. The Varhelm soldiers screamed and shouted for the death of the Imperials as the two forces met. The steadfast soldiers of the ISA held careful vigil over their prisoners as the Major finally spoke up. “We seek no quarrel with you Elysium!” The Rhenyari commander shouted as he made his way over to face the duke. “Then why do you hold blades upon my people?!” The Duke replied in quick fashion. Maintaining stoic silence, the men of Oren watched on as Varhelm soldiers screamed and shouted at the group, desperately trying to instigate a fight with the assembled Imperials. Their final attempt to start the fight led to Lord Robert being shot at with a crossbow by a norlander with poor aim. The Baron of Doggersden managed to dodge the bolt with great ease atop his steed, his movements agile even in the harsh climate. After a tense standoff between the two great forces, an understanding was reached and Major Iskander ordered the Elysian prisoners released in good faith and promised to depart from the field to halt the senseless massacre of man. At this, Duke Eugeo ordered his men to stand down in turn as the Major did the same with the Imperial soldiers. The Varhelm soldiers were angered by this temporary truce as they stormed from the field in anger. However, the Elysians simply took their wounded and departed from the field, equally as stoic as the Imperial forces. The two forces left for their homes and would rest easy that night. The snow remained white, unstained by the blood of men who might have died in the frozen wastelands. Sir Erik Othaman Commander of the Reserves @grnappa Lord Joseph d’Azor Chief of the Imperial Arsenal @Taketheshot Duke Eugeo of Elysium, War is, by its very nature, a hellish test of the innocent man’s resolve. We regret the despicable Chieftain’s warmongering. Before these past years, we have loved peace, and many of our people had found friends among the Elysians. Today, by your good nature, and the mercy of God, we met on terms favorable. You swore that we could speak if we released the people we held, and in good faith, we did. You upheld your end, and commanded the lowering of arms. These are qualities unlike many of the arrayed forces against us. They are the murderous apostate, and not the Elysian. While your country’s Chief Sven declared war on us, we have chosen to take the fight to Nordling land, and keep the conflict as far from our people as possible. Unfortunately, as a result, your people have become the victims. This is not by our fault, but by the fault of war itself; and he who declared it, the Chief Sven. He condemns your people to it. Your people are not Nordlings, not at heart. Not the ones you hold dear to you. They are friends and families who flourished in peace, as we once did, before it was taken from both of us. We, as a people, pray that a swift defeat of the Chief Sven will give us both what we once so enjoyed. All this said, make no mistake. We will not relent until that day. Neither of us shall have peace while Chief Sven reigns. So long as you allow his soldiers within your city, no peace between us can prevail. HIH THE DUKE OF CRESTFALL @BenevolentManacles

"Damn, vy look good." The Othaman grinned in acknowledgement as he looked over the Basrid's shoulder at the paper. "But... where am I?" he'd huff, disappointed.

Sir Erik Othaman wiped the blood from his sword as he chuckled, rolling his shoulders back after the fight. "All in a day's work. It seems that every Imperial is worth more than two Barbarians." "We asked for peace."

Sir Erik Othaman nodded his head as he leaned back in his chair, a wide smile shooting across his face. "Such is the fate that befalls though who declare war against the Holy Orenian Empire. We gave them an overwhelming amount of chances to surrender and they have failed to respond. Ironically, the option for peace now rests in the hands of the man who started this war: the chieftain of Norland. What shall it be?" "We asked for peace."

Nickrocky is rep farming. He's reinstating Vortex tomorrow. Clever clever. +1

Sir Erik Othaman, the Count of Valles, nods his head in approval as he rubs his hands together in glee. The aged veteran chuckles, leaning back in his chair "This war is heating up fast. Godan knows that the Norlanders are frothing at the mouth. Would it be possible that their blood will sizzle as it hits the ground? We shall see soon." "My patience for Norlandic idiocy has run out. Should they perpetuate this conflict, I feel as though their chieftain may be suffering at the hands of more than just raids. Blood shall flow freely and I know for a fact it will nie be Imperial blood..." "We asked for peace."

The Servant boy frowned as he watched the Lord Palatine fish, shaking his head "Vy do nie fish like that, silly! I do nie even see any bait. Here, let me try!" he'd chime in cheerily as he put a healthy worm on the hook, casting it out into the river as he felt a large fish tug on the line almost instantly.

A Haeseni servant boy would bring in the Lord Palatine's morning mug of tea as heard the man ranting at a piece of paper. He'd blink as the boy spoke up, his voice cracking hilariously. "W-what about the Rimeveld Trolls, m-my lord?" he'd raise his hands in self-defense, preparing to defend against the strike that never came. "I-i heard from papej that vy all killed them when they were being peaceful, mister."

The Count of Valles blinks as he reads the message, leaning back in his chair as he rubs his chin in thought. "I literally have niet idea who vy are." "They declare war, get their asses handed to them on a silver platter, and complain that we are killing them in a war." "It just shows that each Norlander makes a ritual sacrifice of intelligence upon becoming a red faith worshipper." "Want to nie have children killed? Do nie arm them. But vy are already scraping the bottom of the barrel so I am nie altogether surprised." "We asked for peace."

"The Norlandic children and women waltz about with full chainmail and heavy weaponry regularly?!" Sir Erik Othaman gasps as he heard a drunken Norlander rage at him. "We offered them multiple chances to lay down their arms and sit on the sidelines if they did nie wish to fight. Instead, they all drew their swords and joined in. All those who were killed had charged against Imperial Forces." "We offered peace over and over again to the foolish Chieftain of Norland. Instead of thinking for his people, he plunged his nation into war. He is young and naive, for he knows nie the immense suffering that war causes for all. Yet the attacks against his people rest entirely on his shoulders." "We asked for peace."

Sir Erik Othaman, Knight Commander of the Order of the Lion, smiles warmly as he read the missive out loud. He'd pause for a moment in silent thought before going to look out the window of his manor. "They brought this war to our lands. It is the mark of the heathen to be irrational and spiteful. They have mocked us for years and berated whilst we kept our solemn promise to maintain our peaceful piety. Yet, it seems that the heretics never truly change. Time and time again have they waged this war to cause pain and suffering, only to be beaten back and return in half a century to repeat an endless cycle." "Godan have mercy upon the Nordlings, for I shall not."

Edgar Berhal, the Falconer of Eastwood, ran over to the rattling bird cage as he tossed a cracker to the rowdy parrot residing inside. "There, that should calm 'em down for a bit!" he'd laugh jovially.