I have a tragic story for you, tabletop thread. Awhile back I posted about the political fantasy game I'm in (post is
here, long but it's a good story). It has continued since then, and a hell of a lot has happened. After the destruction of Arwan's doom army, everyone went back to the usual feuding. The southern Caliphate expanded into the now unoccupied desert region, the humans and elves continued to skirmish, and the glorious Syrabrian horde went back to pillaging. The problem was that we were now without a leader, Antronen having died gloriously saving the land from total destruction. After a period of deliberation the high shaman, Utar, chose one of Antronen's many sons, a certain Moskill, then only 12 years old, to be his successor. Utar acted as regent and tutor of Moskill as the horde moved on, doing the usual raping and pillaging in the process.
Several years passed, moving aimlessly and leaving a trail of destruction. The only particularly notable thing that happened in this period was the rapidly expanding Caliphate being crushed by an Artorian/Freyyonic led coalition and being shattered into warlords, destroying any chance that the truth (diet islam) would become the dominant religion of the continent. Almost everyone was happy about that since our last setting had been dominated by actual Islam and nobody wanted a repeat. So Moskill continues his teaching; he's not nearly as brave or physically imposing as his father but he has a knack for politics and manipulation. Not very traditionally Syrabrian talents, but still useful.
Finally of age to lead, Moskill takes control of the horde. Although projecting an outward appearance of confidence, he's very worried about being overshadowed by the legendary figure that is his father. He decides that if he's to make a name for himself, he must complete a great quest. He decides that this quest will be reconquering the Syrabrian homeland from which they originally wandered out of, now controlled by the decadent Tsardom of Konavsk. The journey to Konavsk is fraught with diversions ranging from assisting in the founding of a small nation to trying to communicate with savage lizard people, but describing those in detail could be several entire posts. Arriving in Konavsk, Moskill proceeds to engage in what can only be described as the Jewiest series of events in the entire roleplay. He secretly organizes rebellious Konavskite vassals, frustrated local tribes, and nearby countries in an anti-Konavk coalition and springs all of it at once, take the Tsardom by surprise and decimating their armies, despite one battle going disastrously wrong.
What followed was a period of frantic state building and stabilization. We renovated the legal code, slashed taxes to placate the peasants, ousted local leaders who wouldn't submit, and generally reshaped what was Konavsk into a totally new nation, the Immortal Horde, essentially the Syrabrian promised land as foretold in prophecy (but with less milk and honey and more barren tundra). After the initial chaos things were actually going quite well. We modernized and massively developed the once stagnant cities of Konavsk and even made progress in clearing the nearby abandoned dwarf holds of the goblin infestation. The Syrabrians seemed to have succeeded wildly in transitioning from nomadic conquerors to minority ruling class.
But then the dreams started.
Ghostly voices narrating over images of forgotten caverns and sealed temples. A cup, a chalice of golden mastercraft inlaid with finest jewels. And that voice, saying come, listener, taste of the chalice's waters, claim its power, seek it out... I immediately consulted the head shaman, Nesk (Utar had unfortunately died in the war against Konavsk), asking him to interpret the dreams. After deliberating he told me the spirits demanded that I seek the power of the chalice, and that their favor of our nation was at stake. Without hesitation I gathered my greatest warriors and Nesk and set off. Strangely, despite the dreams never telling us the location of the chalice, we all knew where to go. After a few weeks of journeying through dangerous territory (we dispatched thieves and goblins with ease, these warriors were some of the finest in the world) we discover a large campsite; somehow, deep inland, the entire drakian army (the drakians being savage dragon-men from the southern islands) had gathered at what appeared to be a dig site. They'd exposed an ancient temple buried in a hill and was frantically searching for something. Obviously they were trying to steal the power which was rightfully mine.
Avoiding detection, we make a small camp nearby. I ask Nesk a critical question: do the spirits wish to see boldness or caution? He slaughters a pig we'd brought (named Weſl, meaning lucky in the Syrabrian language (yes, I made up a language for my country because I'm a turbo-faggot)) and gives the answer: the spirits want boldness, and will reward it greatly.
If you read my previous post, you'd understand that I take the wishes of the spirits very seriously; that's what brought me such great victory before, after all. So that night I grab my 4 warriors and infiltrate the camp. This is the part where shit gets wild. We reach the center of the camp, dodging groggy lizards on night patrol. Then some commotion gets our attention. Xergath iron-scales, king of the foul drakians, is standing on top of a pile of junk addressing some of his troops. He lets of some disgusting guttural sounds which we can't understand, and lifts up his clawed hand, holding... the chalice. For a brief second I panic and think that I've lost. But then, instead of swigging down the magic water and gaining ultimate power, he... puts a seal over it and wraps it into a package. Before I can process this there's a roar from the west and over the trees flies a full grown dragon, a mythical beast not known to live anywhere on the continent, ridden by Idrahael, king of the elven Aesir empire, decked out in shining enchanted armor. Not only were dragons thought to be extinct, there not a single story of one being
ridden. The camp devolves into anarchy. Stealth no longer matters. Xergath flees north, and I follow with my cadre.
It is at this exact moment that I make the critical mistake, defying the will of the spirits and dooming my quest. In a moment of excessive caution, I feared missing something important still lying in the exposed temple, and sent two of my warriors to check it out while the rest of us pursued the Drakian with the chalice. It will soon become apparent why this was such a mistake.
Due to the Drakians' heavy armor, we are significantly faster than them. We give chase while the dragon tears up the camp. Xergath goes down an ancient set of stone steps which are the only quick way off the hill; knowing that Idrahael is likely to be coming behind us, I use the ace up my sleeve: finely crafted portable bombs made of a recently discovered substance called "gunpowder". We blow the stairs on the way down, delaying anyone following us. We catch up with Xergath and a skirmish begins, myself and my two companions versus him and his thuggish guards. This is where my mistake becomes apparent; without those two warriors, we are outnumbered. We are far more skilled than they are, but there's not enough time. The guards are felled and I begin to wrestle with Xergath over the chalice, but it's too late, Idrahael, the vile elf, catches up, stabbing me in the back. Already wounded from the fight, I begin bleeding out. I see the hated elf seize the chalice. This is impossible... I make a decision. If I can't have the chalice, nobody can. I grab another bomb and light it. Everyone around me panics and scatters. I am annihilated in a fiery inferno, along with everyone still nearby. My final act of defiance and my punishment for not following the will of the spirits enacted simultaneously.
Unfortunately, Idrahael escaped the blast and drank from the chalice. He's acquired terrible arcane might and threatens to conquer the planet. A coalition is being assembled against him, but that's a story for later.
Some notes: I have no idea if the spirits are an actual game mechanic that my gm is using behind the scenes or this is just random chance. I don't really care though because however he's doing it it's working out fantastically. Not truly knowing is part of the fun. Anther thing, after my last post someone asked me if I could post our homebrew system. After asking my GM, unfortunately I must report that there's nothing to really post because it turns out that the "system" is 90% GM fiat behind the scenes. But hey, the game is working fantastically so I can't complain about it being a mess under the hood. Finally, here's an up to date game map:
The Aesir empire is ruled by the now super-powered elf emperor. As you can see, he's already attempting to conquer a nearby land. Stopping him will be difficult. Wish us luck. And once again, thanks for reading my extremely long and rambly posts. This game is such a great story generator that I can't help but share them somewhere.