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About MadOne

  • Birthday July 6

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  1. Not arguing for making "spooks" less common an cliquey than they are, but often times, when dealing with vampires, ghosts, et cetera, I feel like what creates fear is infrequence. For example, when I was a noob during war of two emperors, @FlemishSupremacyand from what I remember, TrendE would roleplay as these Renatian dragon knights who would roam the roads and hunt people from my side, and I remember distinctly roleplaying as a fearful mercenary who would soon be confronted by these people. The issue with spook roleplayers is that I think a lot of them usually do "villain" rp as a "side hustle" for their characters. Like, when I am roleplaying in Oren, I see this spook roleplayer come into my tavern and order a drink, which I feel like for my bartender character normalises a lot of these sightings. Furthermore, every week, I get one arbitrary spook attack done onto my characters, or the friends of my characters, and you know that frequency of attacks can cause numerous things 1- It makes me oocly tired of having to deal with this vampire guy arbitrarily attacking my tavern despite having no connection to me whatsoever, and my frustration as I go about my daily business and getting interrupted while doing it translates into my roleplay because of the frequency of these attacks. If these attacks were relevant to the context of my character (for example, I am a politician, and you are a political rival that is secretly a spook and confront me in my manor) I would be much more interested in the roleplay that you are providing. However, when you are random ghost#241 interrupting my roleplay as I try to make income for my tavern, you just become a nuisance. 2- Spook players or otherwise even orcish or bandit raiders often get killed by the town guards or executed (I've seen this with even trials) and they just come back two days later, again, dispelling the novelty of having a spook attack your character. Even some of the rules allow some leniency with it (For example, Aurum only disbands ghosts for a while) and the tiresome aspect of everything just comes back. This leads onto my third point; 3- When the same spooks keep coming back after being killed, they get an ooc reputation about them that they are annoying, and a lot of these ooc opinions about roleplayers as individuals translate into roleplay. This is why often spook people get this "CRPER" reputation of being a bad faith actor to deal with. ("Achtually, you cannot parry my 5ft long vampyre claws because your character is x, please RESPECT roleplay!!!") I think the issues that need to be solved is, the spooks will always be the underdogs, no matter how much T5 magic you have, and often these players try to fight it out with like 20 guards and prolong the encounter as much as possible, making everyone think that they are tedious and disruptive. So i feel like spook encounters need to happen in a much more covert way rather than outwardly attacking my tavern in the middle of the square, etc. There is no hook for me to come onto the roleplay that you seek to put me into. If there were "hooks" as in possible rewards (think of a scenario where this vampire fella is guarding this ancient magical chalice or whatever) a lot of people would willingly induct themselves into them. (This is why ST spookery is much more succesful, firstly because they offer initiatives, secondly they don't have any attachment to their characters which are temporary in nature, whereas a spook character also does casual roleplay with their personas, therefore have attachment to them, and this brings about a competitive willingness to win which makes it less fun for everyone.
  2. "Care for your own dead house before you care for supposedly dead orders." Dietrich says with a laugh.
  3. Dietrich Barclay hums a joyful tune as he set up his brewing vats. The occasion would do with some good wine.
  4. "God I wish I was a Courtier." says Dietrich Lothar Barclay, as he humbly operates the town tavern.
  5. THE OPENING OF THE SAVOYARD'S SMIRK BREWERY Brought to you by the Barclay Bargains Conglomerate. Welcome to Savoyard's Smirk Brewery, Customer! Out of thousands of drinkers, YOU have been chosen to become a customer of our wonderful, war-prolonging company! Our feudalistic reign is only at its beginning stage, and YOU will be a part of the decades to come, enjoying these finely brewed delights, freshly brewed by our wine serfs. Our brewing methods are massively complex, almost impossible to study within a single lifetime. Within every one of our brewing vats, are secrets and wonders that all those health regulators, such as cup-bearers, would kill for! We all have long and arduous tasks to do ahead of us. In fact, I would be tilling the fields to sustain my six children if my noble lord was not forcing me to write this pamphlet today. No doubt, YOU, dear reader, also have very pressing matters to attend to, for you are our customer, and it is common knowledge that those who regularly consume our products are the most industrious among folk of all: drunken vagrants. But before we get to work, why not moisten our throats a little? This is our company owned Pub. Made for our hard-drinking customers. Made for them to unwind, and relax from the terrible working conditions that they are being put under. Don't even get me started on our wine. It's full of lead, but hey! Iron makes us strong, so why not lead? As with any establishing company, the elven banking cartel is always looking to bring us down. Chasing us with lawsuits about the violation of "the working hours of the common man", "unusual lead dumping", "causing reprehensible damage comparable to the San Luciano incident!" --buzzwords that don't really mean anything. But how do we solve all these cases? Answer: with the support of our reliable customers! With the opening of the Savoyard’s Smirk Brewery, we expect to entertain many customers like you in our mighty quest to bring true quality drinks into the bars of our beloved Orenia. THE CIVIL WAR BATCH OF 1868 Drinks for the discerning lord and the lady of refined taste. Beverages for industrious gentlemen and their opulent occasions. Cold pints. Simple as. LIMITED SUPPLY! This batch only! "Any of you that think ye're better 'n me you're gon' have another thing c-..." EMPLOYMENT The Savoyard’s Smirk is currently hiring! If you possess any of the qualities below, contact Dietrich Barclay @MadOne or Stanimar Barclay. @argonian CARAVAN GUARDS BREWERS BARTENDERS
  6. SER WILHEIM BARCLAY, BARON OF FREISING Roving mercenary to Knight... Knight to the founding patriarch of House Barclay, and Patriarch to Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska. And then to a happy and old life with many military honours. ADELRIC CARDINAL REINMAR An ambitious young lad to a full-fledged priest, who solved a schism upon the Church. To a missionary who wishes to save the souls of the wicked who dwell the desert, and then a Bishop, then to respected position of Cardinal From Cardinal to a retired old priest. GEORG I Disenfranchised noble statesman to a revolutionary warrior, and then to an ill-fated King. SIR OSVALD, LORD SPEAKER Army recruit whelp to a Sergeant and a reformer statesman, Towards a Knighthood, then the Lord Speaker of Haense. Orenian fifth column in the Parliament, in search for peaceful independence and thus also a Civil Knight, towards an embittered old man who feels that he has been done wrong.
  7. "It was you who began this feud, Lord Rostig." Dietrich would write to Mikhail. "Had you written this letter earlier, or came to your senses sooner, Lord Johann would not chase this quarrel, for you are our distant kin. Answer this, Lord Rostig, Have you not fought the Orenians, after they have aggressed upon us? Would you not fight for your life if a shark attacked?" Leaving his pen on his desk, Dietrich looked towards the roads of Rimeveld and Vidaus, where he reckoned he would march towards soon in pursuit of a restored honour. He decided to pick his pen up, after a moment of deliberation. "It is simply a principle of action, and the reaction it garners. There is no honour in blaming the victim. I hope that despite our fighting, you would see across this point, for if you won't, it will be clear to me that you strive to get morality, where you had none, and get in the good graces of the Kongzem who looked down upon you as a result of your actions. Your words are honourable, but I fear the intention. Know this, Lord Ruthern; I bear you no ill will, as I hope you will not at the end of this feud, but perhaps the movements of your pen are more insidious than they are seen to be."
  8. You keep mentioning how there is a risk for smaller settlements that are growing to die, and thus we shouldn't have subjugation at all which I don't really see tbh. Founding a new nation should be hard, and people shouldn't get arbitrary protection status just because they are a smaller community. If a smaller community wants to survive, they should play their cards right and engage in constructive roleplay such as diplomacy, or seek survival in other ways (for example having another nation protect them) or quasi-independent vassalage agreements. Yes, this gives already powerful nations slightly more power, but if you remove subjugation just because smaller settlements have a slightly difficult time, you would be also removing subjugation of powerful nations, and extending their already long lifespan by irl years. Nations should prosper and die to create a good narrative.
  9. Dietrich looks at the glass chambers under Reinmar, which held the secret to their fast reproduction. "What do you say, Konstanz, shall we activate the vats again?" Meanwhile Ruther's kin engaged in a campaign of bastard legitimisation to compensate for their weak numbers, (making many-a tavern wench happy in the process) a Metterdenish conscript, ignorant of the fickle nature of his relatives poured the Baron of Sigradz a cup of the finest Pruvian Port while another threw the switch that would possibly activate such vats.
  10. "I've never seen a more indecisive faction than the Ferrymen. I wonder when they will switch back to Oren!" says a bystander at the constant flapping about of the Ferrymen, reminding himself of the conduct that the Curonites displayed during The War of Two Emperors.
  11. As the Hyspian food surfaced around the lands of Almaris, this would be accompanied with a new drug-craze that would take the town with blazing fire.
  12. "Oh, Bishop Viktor died?! What the hell!" says Dietrich.
  13. Ser Wilheim, the aged progenitor of Brandt's line looks upon one of his grandsons as he shook his head at the moniker. "You know, son, she wasn't actually called that! She was called 'The Thick' back when I served with her...this is a revisionism!"
  14. THE CORONET “Equal Succession Rights!” The jeers and calls of the Haeseni ladies of the court filled the streets of Karosgrad with great pomp and cheer as a new demand for rights was brought forward. In front of them stood a large pyre prepared by the Queen, yet the pair sat watching seemed to pay it no mind. Adelric, Bishop of Reinmar, perched alongside the Grand Prince of Kusoraev, Karl Sigmar. The two had spent the better part of the early morning learning the faith, and now they sat enjoying freshly made dried jerky. Therein next to them gathered a host of men, who were in similar shape, until a man - bearing the heraldry of the Prince of Savoy pushed forth beside them with a horse, tired. He was gasping for breath, as is the case for those of his vocation. He produced a dinky bugle from his belt, and brought his dried lips upon it and would give a mighty sound - had the Bishop not stopped him to give forth the man a canteen to drink upon. “Take, my child, and say what you have to say...” The Bishop would murmur, and the herald told them of the Court that was being held at Savoy. The Bishop’s cataracts focused upon the large dais that had a place of prominence and honor in the Savoyard Lands, and the elegant woman that stood forth, making her proclamations - the old man recognized her as one of his kinsman, and a honorable lady who made dealings with Prince Johann prior, yet the woman he saw today was in a much different countenance than he met prior. Her mental state seemed to be erratic, as he clutched onto the sleeves of his son as the men placed in front of her in court jeered at the mention of a regency, with many reaching the handles of their weapons. Their eyes glinted with dissatisfaction, glaring towards the councilmen of Savoy, whose visages were held together by an unmoving mask of ivory in their elevated position. A position, even the likes of Ulrich Alsterim, and Jurgen Barclay were familiar not. Then Adelric saw it. He saw a mother, dazed and confused. He saw the men, who would kill for their Prince. He saw a boy, angry and alone within his own lands, laid out in front of him a path of circles, he saw it. The path went around and around in a cycle of violence and power. So he changed it. The Bishop now began to hastily put quill ink to parchment, his letters scrawled and misshapen as the clamor and resentment to the regency began to grow. After a long moment, the letter was sent off. The boy must be crowned. The pontiff shall see this right. The bird flew at a pace, and as hands began to grasp to steel, the Pontiff’s reply came from a man in the livery of his Holiness. Karl watched the proceedings as Ser Reinhardt towered above him, even the giant struggling to endure the sense of foreboding that embalmed everyone within the court. Held aloft upon his hand was a circlet of gold, that bore the insignia of a prince. He never knew the significance of this golden band that frequented his brow - for it was afforded to him ever since he was a babe, and learned not to think of it. His eyes spied the Bishop, who pushed forth from his honored place among the Haeseni knights, a new look of determination washing over the old man’s gentle visage. He carried no mask of ivory, yet stood in front of the dais all the same, holding out his hand. “Rest your hands, men!” He loudly proclaimed trying to calm down the situation. As this unfolded, the golden band upon Karl’s head was naught but forgotten. The Bishop called him forth, and hastily asked for the coronet upon the boy’s brow, and only this overt statement brought the boy’s attention to the band. He knew not the wisened man’s intentions yet could see the Barclay's passion inflamed with determination, and without protestation he removed his Princely insignia from his brow, not knowing how his coronet would unfold the fate of the South. Adelric looked before the men of the court, their hearts rested as the young Prince’s bellowing voice. He was impressed much with what the boy had to say, yet he could not stop the racing of heart and the worry upon his brow. Upon his left hand, did he hold the beloved Prince’s Coronet, which jittered in anxiety as the men murmured among themselves. The Bishop’s hand turned the coronet into a symbol, rather than a trinket upon Karl’s visage. He raised the newfound symbol with both hands for all to see, and lowered it onto Lucien’s head. “By the grace of GOD, His Exalted and Saints in the Skies, I proclaim, His Serene Highness, Lucien of the House Asford de Savoie!” He bellowed, and the court fell into silence. His eyes gazed upon his kinswoman of the South, who barely held his tears as the ivory-clad councilors rested with their indifferent gazes upon the woman’s plight. She was nothing but erratic, raving about her misfortunes in a court that proclaimed nothing but her regency, and her son’s right to rule. Adelric would utter a prayer for her, and resume his position at Ser Reinhardt’s side, his visage betraying nothing but determination and faith. Faith for the boy’s rule, faith for Catherine’s restored mental state. Faith for Savoy. Karl, was surrounded by a host of familiar men, and he could tell most of them apart by name, and the others by face, be it his own host or the Savoyard arms-men, yet there was one group that he seemed not to recognize at all. They sulked in the shadows, and seemed not to break bread with any men who sat in seats of honor in the court. One of the shadowy men made a step forward, and his underlings marched in order, their revised and perfected trot contrasted the ravings of Catherine anxious and bewildered. The squad of shadowy men all unanimously reached into their hips, and their leader pulled forth a blade. Jurgen Barclay and his kinsman Reinhardt were coordinated rest, for they had not drilled for this court, and their blades rasped from forth their sheaths to defend Catherine. Ulrich Alstreim rushed forth in fury to defend his Princess. Guided by their stalwart defense, all the swords of Savoy, Haense and Myrine unleashed upon the assassins, but the monotone and unanimous movements of the assassins uncovered themselves too late. The assassins exchanged nods, and their voices echoed across Savoy’s halls. “Glory to Prince Lucien!” And so Princess Catherine laid dead. Adelric saw the boy-prince’s tears long before they came, as he saw his mother strewn across the floor by men he did not recognize as his counterpart of Haense did not prior. Upon his head, rested a covenant guaranteeing his mandate from God. He now had a nation to guide, and bore the regalia of a true Prince.
  15. A pauper by the name of Dietrich reads upon the Bishop's scroll, looking upon it's contents, bereft of education that Her Ladyship Kortrevich was given, and due to the spiritual address of the 'Pastoral' meaning for laity, he found that this letter suited him much better than Her Ladyship! "Yeah...you know, 'tips' usually mean simplifications..." "Wha' is a 'stages' anyway? Ye mean platforms? 'ow on eart' is a ghost meant to become a platform?" The farmer said, scratching his head. "God, be grateful you pompous wretch!"
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