Strategus => Diplomacy => Topic started by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 04:13:17 am
Title: let it burn
Post by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 04:13:17 am
With the end of strat announced we wanted to say good round to all.
all deals are over and let it rain snow exp. Peace treaties are free and clear.
Our guys are marching all over and can hit anything they feel like attacking. Even if it is ourselves. no hard feelings if people want to attack our stuff either.
we may attack some of our own castles to be able to balance the rosters and make people who never fight together actually have fun together. go figure. evil fcc
The BS warriors felt it all go wrong. Feeding the Terrortops became to difficult and in the end as was fortold he would rise and eat the world. These are the end of days my brothers. Feeding him our deaths allowed us all to live for far longer than was expected. Let us give one more week of glory in hopes that the world will be reborn and our souls will find it safely for it all to begin again.
Ohay warrior profit of terror
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Matey on December 17, 2013, 04:14:24 am
Death to Joe! or Gmno! or someone else?
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Keshian on December 17, 2013, 04:18:56 am
Let the Kesh counter-insurgency begin - KILL ALL THE EVIL FCC!!
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Zlisch_The_Butcher on December 17, 2013, 04:26:42 am
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Jack1 on December 17, 2013, 04:30:02 am
Geared and kicked random in actives out of ryindyar. Don't attack the castle atm it's unarmed. I'll take care of the troops in that village in a few nights btw.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Inglorious on December 17, 2013, 04:35:42 am
With the end of strat announced we wanted to say good round to all.
we may attack some of our own castles to be able to balance the rosters and make people who never fight together actually have fun together. go figure. evil fcc
Ohay warrior profit of terror
If it weren't for almost all the members in FCC, except for a few leaders, being rude and putting people down all the time in chat, I'd buy into the propaganda efforts of yours O'hay.
If "let it burn" is a analogy for getting the hate bridge between the two split sides of NA to collapse, it has to start with the small things.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: arowaine on December 17, 2013, 04:41:10 am
With the end of strat announced we wanted to say good round to all.
all deals are over and let it rain snow exp. Peace treaties are free and clear.
Our guys are marching all over and can hit anything they feel like attacking. Even if it is ourselves. no hard feelings if people want to attack our stuff either.
we may attack some of our own castles to be able to balance the rosters and make people who never fight together actually have fun together. go figure. evil fcc
The BS warriors felt it all go wrong. Feeding the Terrortops became to difficult and in the end as was fortold he would rise and eat the world. These are the end of days my brothers. Feeding him our deaths allowed us all to live for far longer than was expected. Let us give one more week of glory in hopes that the world will be reborn and our souls will find it safely for it all to begin again.
Ohay warrior profit of terror
DO NOT PREVENT LCO ARMY FROM ATTACKING YOUR STUFF YOU FUCKING NERDS I AM COMING AT YOU SON
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Krosis on December 17, 2013, 05:22:38 am
Can someone tell me where Kesh is?
For science XP.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 05:32:20 am
I will save kesh the trouble and post his thoughts
Bring it bitches.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 05:33:39 am
If it weren't for almost all the members in FCC, except for a few leaders, being rude and putting people down all the time in chat, I'd buy into the propaganda efforts of yours O'hay.
If "let it burn" is a analogy for getting the hate bridge between the two split sides of NA to collapse, it has to start with the small things.
From our side of the fence we see just as much evil. NOt going to worry about it now and do not want any of that in this thread. If you ever want to discuss it I am BaleOhay on steam. Toss a friend request
Ohay
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: CrazyCracka420 on December 17, 2013, 03:20:58 pm
I'm hoping to pick off one of these armies for an open field battle...they're so much better than sieges. None of your siege armies are safe!
Either that or I'm going to attack one of our own weak villages so I can be "lord" for a month.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: BoneSaw on December 17, 2013, 04:11:09 pm
FREEDOM! Finally an end to the madness.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Bronto on December 17, 2013, 04:29:18 pm
From our side of the fence we see just as much evil. NOt going to worry about it now and do not want any of that in this thread. If you ever want to discuss it I am BaleOhay on steam. Toss a friend request
Ohay
What Bale said, it's all relative to your perspective of it all. Who will be enemies next round?!?! What bridges have been burned(pun fully intended)?!?! Will I continue to RP as the Kesh of our side or play another forum roll?!?! find out next round....since this one ends....
(click to show/hide)
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: dynamike on December 17, 2013, 04:38:13 pm
Hi Bale can I attack you?
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 07:04:00 pm
I have 2000 geared troops on me plus geared castle. What would you like to do.
I figured if no one attacked jelbegi castle I would transfer it drop fcc and attack myself so that we could set equal rosters.
I am also up for someone attacking me or the castle. I do not much care as long as the troops and gear get used.
Not super plate armor in either siphani yawshawns i think so not weak
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 07:04:28 pm
What Bale said, it's all relative to your perspective of it all. Who will be enemies next round?!?! What bridges have been burned(pun fully intended)?!?! Will I continue to RP as the Kesh of our side or play another forum roll?!?! find out next round....since this one ends....
(click to show/hide)
PS bronto loves me now.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: CrazyCracka420 on December 17, 2013, 07:24:58 pm
Well I hope next strategus people play it like Risk or Civ V. Ignore friendships and past alliances, do what's in your best interests in the new strat. But if the past is any indication, that is a pipe dream.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: BaleOhay on December 17, 2013, 07:25:58 pm
yes I imagine the anti FCC coalition is already taking applications hahahaha
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: KaMiKaZe_JoE on December 17, 2013, 11:52:42 pm
The following is an absolutely massive RP shitpost, so enjoy it you're gay like me.
(click to show/hide)
So a "man", a pirate, a witch, a robot, and a triceratops walk into a bar at around the time of the Apocalypse.
Well, a tavern. "Applebees Tavern and Grill" was situated comfortably within the snow-capped, towering stone walls of New Sargoth, deep within FCC territory. Joe led their little party into the tavern's waiting area, where they duly waited for someone to show them to a table. Normally, the leaders of the Free Companies--powerful lords and mighty murderers all--would walk right on over to whatever table they liked, police be fucked. But today the city was taught with rumor. Whispered speculations pulled the city's sinews tight and left it's hair all standing on end. Like an erect penis.
Rumor had it that the world was ending. FCC leadership had heard of it informally, and had duly kept their mouths shut about the affair. But the rest of the FCC realm seemed to have heard the rumor too, despite the War Council's attempts at censorship and secrecy. You see, every once in a while the world would be undone, to be born again slightly different and generally worse off. The Almighty god chadz would send his prophets around the kingdoms to spread official word of the event. Birds bearing letters bound by chadz's' holy seal would be sent aflight. Only when official word was heard from these sources would the kingdoms begin preparing to use up all their tickets in a bloodbath of interpersonal violence on an unprecedented scale.
No one in the Free Companies' realms had received official word from chadz yet. Nobody would begin murdering until official word was had. But rumors had started with great urgency, apparently coming from the far away land of the "Eeeh Youuu". Joe saw the waiters and townspeople whispering this hearsay to each other. A man beside him, his child wriggling on his lap, spoke tersely to his wife in deep, private tones. Her face was pale. Joe leaned over to sniff the man's beard. Yes, the man smelled of fear. He smelled of the apocalypse--
Matey poked Joe with his peg-leg. He hissed, "Yee can't be a man-sniffin' scallywag Joe. Not tonight."
"Sorry," Joe said.
A serving-wench, her smile more obviously forced than usual, led them to a booth. The big, plastic menus in her hands shook. She gestured for them to sit, then hastily turned to leave, but MURDERTRON extended a long, armored arm and halted her. She had certainly heard of LORD MURDERTRON, but she had obviously not met him. She stared at him, his body covered head to toe in plate armor. He had his visor down--always had it down--and on it were painted a pair of bright yellow eyes. Metal "teeth" protruded, welded sloppily onto the visor's mouthpiece. "Antennae", in the form of bent clothes hangers, protruded from his head. This metal-man cast a wary glance around, then beeped quietly at the shivering girl. "Boop bop. Meatbag, please, a seat closer to the entrance. Beep." Joe knew what MURDER was up too. A door-seat would be safer in case shit hit the fan.
"Jesus what the fuck are you," she whispered. Her face had drained of color. A patron to their right glanced up from his shitty hamburger.
Joe needed to run interference, lest a panic ensue. A panic, in light of recent, albeit unconfirmed, rumors of the world's end, would result in a blood-bath.
"MURDER!"
The "Applebees" went quiet. Joe swallowed. He had not intended to shout the name--fucking caps lock. Patrons stared at them, curious and worried. Somebody ran out. A big, hairy man at the bar drew a sword.
Joe saw WITCHCRAFT survey the tavern. "Uh," she said, clearing her throat against the silence. "It's, uh." Then, she smiled. "It's.... Your... Birthday!
The wench instinctively mewed, "H-happy, happy birthday."
Bale and Matey, sharing a glance, started clapping. They shouted in unison, "TODAY'S YOU BIRTHDAY!"
Joe got it. He bellowed, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" Joe looked over to see the man at the bar drop his sword and, smiling massively, begin clapping along with them.
It only took a few seconds to get the medieval tavern-goers singing and clapping "Happy Birthday!" to MURDERTRON. Safe.
-------------
They were seated and comfortably killing several sangria pitchers. Matey was the first to talk. "Good job WITCHCRAFT. But, Holy fuck boys," he said. "Let's be, arrgh, less autistic in the future."
This was agreed to.
WITCHCRAFT leaned forward. "So, I trust you've all heard about this round of Strat?"
They were quiet, but there were nods and muttered, "Aye's" and "Beep's".
She continued, "We should begin preparations, but only after we hear from chadz or Kesh."
"The Terrortops agrees to this," Bale said, unsettlingly using the third-person. He only did that when excited. Never scared, of course. 'The Terrortops knows no fear!' Joe smiled.
Then a horse walked in. Joe heard a disturbance at the door, followed by the tell-tale clop of hooves on hardwood floors. A Champion Rouncey--one of Joe's couriers, trotted right on up to their table. The restaurant once again fell silent. The animal was wheezing and covered in sweat made cold by the outside winter air. He stood steaming beside their table, a little roll of parchment taped to his forehead.
Joe reached a shaky hand out, plucking the message off. He wanted to slap the beast for its lack of tact, but the message was more pressing. He passed it off to Matey. "I can't read," Joe explained.
Matey read the parchment to himself, his face draining of color. He passed the note around, and leaned in to whisper to Joe. "Arrrgh, Kesh. Confirms the End of Times be upon us. Emergency War Council meeting, laddy."
Joe's fingers tapped anxiously on the table top. He nodded, swallowed, and tried to discreetly survey the room. He saw people staring, and met more than a few eyes. At the bar a familiar horseman, quite OP, Huseby, looked at Joe with wet eyes and a quivering bottom lip. Beside him stood Jack of Frisia, a mug clenched in a white-knuckled hand, though he was half-smiling. Joe wasn't quite sure how he got here.
Bale stood, his horns poking a dangling lamp. His tiny dinosaur eyes looked down at several half-empty sangria pitchers. "Well, that was a good dinner huh? Let's go, uh, home."
MURDERTRON calmly placed an iron mace on the table. "Beep."
The door opened yet again, and in strode a death sentence. A man wearing a hollowed out, bespectacled donkey's head, stained white t-shirt, wrinkled, too-large boxers, and mismatched socks strode into Applebees with the authority of true divinity.
It was a messenger of chadz. Everyone in the room knew this. Without introducing himself, the man spoke, and with his voice came the powerful aroma of Cheetos. "Strat round 4 is over," he said. His neck-beard, some three feet long, twitched with a life of its own below his donkey-head's chin. "You have until Sunday." Then he walked out amidst stunned silence.
Jack, by the bar, swung his mug into Husbey's head. "IT'S NERDING TIME!" he cried, trampling over Husbey's now weeping body on his way to stab the bartender with a fork.
Everybody else got the gist of it. People started killing the fuck out of each other. Joe had not experienced such carnage in all of his battlefield glories. The bearded man whom Joe had sniffed earlier was swinging his toddler by the foot, beating his way towards the exit, grinning madly and laughing, "EXP! HAHA! EXP!"
The FCC's leadership were headed straight for the door, too. They needed to survive, so that they might organize future battles and coordinate the much anticipated genocide of 2013. Joe tried to follow. He jumped over the table, but got his foot stuck and flopped over it and onto the floor in a flood of sangria and nachos. He scrambled to his feet and, clutching onto the back of MURDERTRON's armor, who was beating back waitresses and blood-thirsty peasants, was dragged outside by the well-organized push of FCC's glorious leadership.
The streets weren't much better. Fires had started burning, and Joe smelled blood. He saw people chasing each other down with pitchforks and swords bared, shining as white as the snow in the moonlight. They couldn't get out on foot.
WITCHCRAFT shouted, "Over here!" and raised both her middle fingers. A purple, glowing portal opened before her.
"Get in mateys!" cried Matey, hobbling swiftly into the purple abyss. Bale and MURDERTRON followed him in.
WITCHCRAFT gestured for Joe to hurry, but he shook his head. "I need to find Champion Courser!"
WITCHCRAFT rolled her eyes. "I'll leave this," she looked at the portal, "Whatever it is, here for you."
"Thanks nipple-daddy," Joe said, running towards the stables. They were aflame, but luckily Champion Courser had too much HP to give a single fuck. Joe found her calmly standing in the midst of the inferno. He leapt upon her back and, spurring her into action, rode her out the stables, through the portal, and into the courtyard of a castle he had never been in before.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: dynamike on December 18, 2013, 05:13:52 am
The following is an absolutely massive RP shitpost, so enjoy it you're gay like me.
(click to show/hide)
So a "man", a pirate, a witch, a robot, and a triceratops walk into a bar at around the time of the Apocalypse.
Well, a tavern. "Applebees Tavern and Grill" was situated comfortably within the snow-capped, towering stone walls of New Sargoth, deep within FCC territory. Joe led their little party into the tavern's waiting area, where they duly waited for someone to show them to a table. Normally, the leaders of the Free Companies--powerful lords and mighty murderers all--would walk right on over to whatever table they liked, police be fucked. But today the city was taught with rumor. Whispered speculations pulled the city's sinews tight and left it's hair all standing on end. Like an erect penis.
Rumor had it that the world was ending. FCC leadership had heard of it informally, and had duly kept their mouths shut about the affair. But the rest of the FCC realm seemed to have heard the rumor too, despite the War Council's attempts at censorship and secrecy. You see, every once in a while the world would be undone, to be born again slightly different and generally worse off. The Almighty god chadz would send his prophets around the kingdoms to spread official word of the event. Birds bearing letters bound by chadz's' holy seal would be sent aflight. Only when official word was heard from these sources would the kingdoms begin preparing to use up all their tickets in a bloodbath of interpersonal violence on an unprecedented scale.
No one in the Free Companies' realms had received official word from chadz yet. Nobody would begin murdering until official word was had. But rumors had started with great urgency, apparently coming from the far away land of the "Eeeh Youuu". Joe saw the waiters and townspeople whispering this hearsay to each other. A man beside him, his child wriggling on his lap, spoke tersely to his wife in deep, private tones. Her face was pale. Joe leaned over to sniff the man's beard. Yes, the man smelled of fear. He smelled of the apocalypse--
Matey poked Joe with his peg-leg. He hissed, "Yee can't be a man-sniffin' scallywag Joe. Not tonight."
"Sorry," Joe said.
A serving-wench, her smile more obviously forced than usual, led them to a booth. The big, plastic menus in her hands shook. She gestured for them to sit, then hastily turned to leave, but MURDERTRON extended a long, armored arm and halted her. She had certainly heard of LORD MURDERTRON, but she had obviously not met him. She stared at him, his body covered head to toe in plate armor. He had his visor down--always had it down--and on it were painted a pair of bright yellow eyes. Metal "teeth" protruded, welded sloppily onto the visor's mouthpiece. "Antennae", in the form of bent clothes hangers, protruded from his head. This metal-man cast a wary glance around, then beeped quietly at the shivering girl. "Boop bop. Meatbag, please, a seat closer to the entrance. Beep." Joe knew what MURDER was up too. A door-seat would be safer in case shit hit the fan.
"Jesus what the fuck are you," she whispered. Her face had drained of color. A patron to their right glanced up from his shitty hamburger.
Joe needed to run interference, lest a panic ensue. A panic, in light of recent, albeit unconfirmed, rumors of the world's end, would result in a blood-bath.
"MURDER!"
The "Applebees" went quiet. Joe swallowed. He had not intended to shout the name--fucking caps lock. Patrons stared at them, curious and worried. Somebody ran out. A big, hairy man at the bar drew a sword.
Joe saw WITCHCRAFT survey the tavern. "Uh," she said, clearing her throat against the silence. "It's, uh." Then, she smiled. "It's.... Your... Birthday!
The wench instinctively mewed, "H-happy, happy birthday."
Bale and Matey, sharing a glance, started clapping. They shouted in unison, "TODAY'S YOU BIRTHDAY!"
Joe got it. He bellowed, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" Joe looked over to see the man at the bar drop his sword and, smiling massively, begin clapping along with them.
It only took a few seconds to get the medieval tavern-goers singing and clapping "Happy Birthday!" to MURDERTRON. Safe.
-------------
They were seated and comfortably killing several sangria pitchers. Matey was the first to talk. "Good job WITCHCRAFT. But, Holy fuck boys," he said. "Let's be, arrgh, less autistic in the future."
This was agreed to.
WITCHCRAFT leaned forward. "So, I trust you've all heard about this round of Strat?"
They were quiet, but there were nods and muttered, "Aye's" and "Beep's".
She continued, "We should begin preparations, but only after we hear from chadz or Kesh."
"The Terrortops agrees to this," Bale said, unsettlingly using the third-person. He only did that when excited. Never scared, of course. 'The Terrortops knows no fear!' Joe smiled.
Then a horse walked in. Joe heard a disturbance at the door, followed by the tell-tale clop of hooves on hardwood floors. A Champion Rouncey--one of Joe's couriers, trotted right on up to their table. The restaurant once again fell silent. The animal was wheezing and covered in sweat made cold by the outside winter air. He stood steaming beside their table, a little roll of parchment taped to his forehead.
Joe reached a shaky hand out, plucking the message off. He wanted to slap the beast for its lack of tact, but the message was more pressing. He passed it off to Matey. "I can't read," Joe explained.
Matey read the parchment to himself, his face draining of color. He passed the note around, and leaned in to whisper to Joe. "Arrrgh, Kesh. Confirms the End of Times be upon us. Emergency War Council meeting, laddy."
Joe's fingers tapped anxiously on the table top. He nodded, swallowed, and tried to discreetly survey the room. He saw people staring, and met more than a few eyes. At the bar a familiar horseman, quite OP, Huseby, looked at Joe with wet eyes and a quivering bottom lip. Beside him stood Jack of Frisia, a mug clenched in a white-knuckled hand, though he was half-smiling. Joe wasn't quite sure how he got here.
Bale stood, his horns poking a dangling lamp. His tiny dinosaur eyes looked down at several half-empty sangria pitchers. "Well, that was a good dinner huh? Let's go, uh, home."
MURDERTRON calmly placed an iron mace on the table. "Beep."
The door opened yet again, and in strode a death sentence. A man wearing a hollowed out, bespectacled donkey's head, stained white t-shirt, wrinkled, too-large boxers, and mismatched socks strode into Applebees with the authority of true divinity.
It was a messenger of chadz. Everyone in the room knew this. Without introducing himself, the man spoke, and with his voice came the powerful aroma of Cheetos. "Strat round 4 is over," he said. His neck-beard, some three feet long, twitched with a life of its own below his donkey-head's chin. "You have until Sunday." Then he walked out amidst stunned silence.
Jack, by the bar, swung his mug into Husbey's head. "IT'S NERDING TIME!" he cried, trampling over Husbey's now weeping body on his way to stab the bartender with a fork.
Everybody else got the gist of it. People started killing the fuck out of each other. Joe had not experienced such carnage in all of his battlefield glories. The bearded man whom Joe had sniffed earlier was swinging his toddler by the foot, beating his way towards the exit, grinning madly and laughing, "EXP! HAHA! EXP!"
The FCC's leadership were headed straight for the door, too. They needed to survive, so that they might organize future battles and coordinate the much anticipated genocide of 2013. Joe tried to follow. He jumped over the table, but got his foot stuck and flopped over it and onto the floor in a flood of sangria and nachos. He scrambled to his feet and, clutching onto the back of MURDERTRON's armor, who was beating back waitresses and blood-thirsty peasants, was dragged outside by the well-organized push of FCC's glorious leadership.
The streets weren't much better. Fires had started burning, and Joe smelled blood. He saw people chasing each other down with pitchforks and swords bared, shining as white as the snow in the moonlight. They couldn't get out on foot.
WITCHCRAFT shouted, "Over here!" and raised both her middle fingers. A purple, glowing portal opened before her.
"Get in mateys!" cried Matey, hobbling swiftly into the purple abyss. Bale and MURDERTRON followed him in.
WITCHCRAFT gestured for Joe to hurry, but he shook his head. "I need to find Champion Courser!"
WITCHCRAFT rolled her eyes. "I'll leave this," she looked at the portal, "Whatever it is, here for you."
"Thanks nipple-daddy," Joe said, running towards the stables. They were aflame, but luckily Champion Courser had too much HP to give a single fuck. Joe found her calmly standing in the midst of the inferno. He leapt upon her back and, spurring her into action, rode her out the stables, through the portal, and into the courtyard of a castle he had never been in before.
This deserves its own thread or you will die an XP-less death!
Ps: put me the fuck in the next one of these.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: KaMiKaZe_JoE on December 18, 2013, 05:44:28 am
OK I WILL
BUT
Remind me in-game, when I end up eventually playing cRPG. I forget what you look like, what equipment you use, etc. I haven't played in months.
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: Gmnotutoo on December 18, 2013, 05:49:14 am
Remind me in-game, when I end up eventually playing cRPG. I forget what you look like, what equipment you use, etc. I haven't played in months.
I want in too :(
Title: Re: let it burn
Post by: KaMiKaZe_JoE on December 18, 2013, 07:35:11 am
Joe and his two whole friends were 3/4 of the way through a thirty-pack of Miller Lite and they were losing it. Joe, kand the midst of things, grabbed his shitty laptop and saw GMNO's thing.