orangelex44
Partisan
Update 1:
And so a new era begins. Like all beginnings, it is slow… quiet… almost impossible to detect, for most. Many do not yet understand what is about to happen; those that live at it’s end will understand all too well…
The Malakim: All Together Now, Let’s Pray
The desert-people of the west, in an effort to boost their population, invested much of their income into short-term crop growth. In order to guarantee their plantings would, uh, “take”, they spent the rest of their effort praying to Lugus. The crops grow quickly, and the resulting harvest fuels a small population boost.
Malakim gain ~1000 pop.
The Doviello: Our Foot, Your Face
Unlike the desert weaklings to the south, the Doviello chose to put their efforts into raising an army, and letting it out to play.
The first Beastmen drafted were immediately sent to the south to scout. Disguised as herdsmen, they approached Golden Leane, intending to gather information for a coming assault. The Malakim, however, are suspicious of these “herdsmen” – and acting on those suspicions, attempt to drive them off by scaring off their animals.
Beastmen are not very good at staying calm in tight situations. Instead of simply leaving, they stop trying to hide their identity. They charge. The handful of Malakim civilians who were tasked with scaring off the invaders die within minutes, and the victorious Doviello continue toward the city. Golden Leane has no walls – nothing stands between them and victory except a thin line of Priests, and a few thousand common citizens. What can go wrong?
The Priests do what they can: encourage the populace, stand in between the city and the invaders, and pray with the greatest amount of fervor they can muster. The initial charge crushes them like a hammer crushes a peanut – but their sacrifice is not in vain. More than half of them die, but the time it takes to kill them allows for two vital things to happen. One, the more able citizens of the city are able to gather weapons – and two, the gods turn their eye to the area.
The countercharge is unorganized and relatively powerless – but to Doviello eyes, the Malakim are no longer simple men. Some act of the gods changes their appearance to that of giants, and even the Doviello are not immune to fear. As quickly as they had advanced, they now retreat, while gleeful Malakim militia stab them in the back. The whole affair lasted no more than three hours.
The remaining Priests treat all those they can, but they remain greatly weakened. The armed citizens, wary to further attacks, decide to forego standing down and instead reorganize themselves into two Militia units, one of spear and one of sword. They lack nothing for bravery, but they have no experience in creating a true army – and their need is desperate. News arrives that the Beastmen scouts, instead of retreating out of the country, instead moved west. There, they meet up with Frostling reinforcements and begin a campaign of burning and pillaging whatever they can find. The new Tribesmen militia arm up and move to counter this threat while the Spears and Priests stay behind to fortify what they can.
It is good they do so, since this first Beastmen attack was nothing more than a reconnaissance in force. The real assault comes a week later. Another full regiment of Beastmen, combined with a heaver and more experienced Sons of Asena regiment, are approaching from the north. This time, there is at least a few hours’ warning.
The initial Doviello plan had been to surround the city and use a Beastmen hammer to force the Malakim into a Sons of Asena anvil. Like most Doviello plans, its simple, but also like most Doviello plans, it doesn’t last for longer than a half hour. At the sight of the armed Spearmen militia, tactics go out the window and the entire army charges once more at the city.
This time, the gods do not help. The Spearmen, outmatched and outnumbered, still fight bravely. However, standing to fight only means they stand to die. The invaders are slowed for a bit, but after killing the defenders to the man they continue on to the city. The citizens had expected the worst, and had attempted to evacuate – but while their defenders bought them some time, it wasn’t enough for everyone. The Priests, however, manage to escort what survivors there are out of the danger zone and save a small number of militia.
Golden Leane held some 50000 people. Today, only 30000 still remain alive and free. However, the news from the west is a slight glimmer of hope – the Tribesmen militia managed to soundly defeat the Frostlings and Beastmen there, and stopped further losses in that area. The Malakim are reeling, but angry – record numbers of men answer the calls to draft.
Malakim lose ~20000 population, gain Tribesmen militia, gain Spears militia, require 20 gold to heal Priests, require 4000 men to heal Spears, require 500 men to heal Tribesmen, lose Golden Leane, draft modifier +.2, morale +.5
Doviello gain three Slave units, require 3000 men to heal Beastmen units, plunder 10 gold – Golden Leane is depopulated, will not provide income
The Balseraph: Party Like It’s Your Birthday
The Balseraph, under the “inspiration” of Perpentach, throw a festival in honor of the common pony. It’s called the Super Giant Fun Party Time Bash, and like all Balseraph parties, is an instant hit. Inspired by Balseraph posters, people traveled miles to partake – most notably from the Kuriotates.
Even for the Balseraph, this event was of especial note. Ponies (not horses!) throughout Jubilee were treated as honored guests, invited into homes and given the finest foods and tack. There was a pony beauty contest, a pony skills challenge, a pony combat arena, a pony eating event (both of and by), a pony racing course, a pony rodeo, and more… but the undoubted masterpiece of it all was the Grand Pony March.
Through the streets of Jubilee, a troupe of Mimics dressed up to resemble the honored pony… and were ridden by some of the ugliest Freaks anyone had ever seen! Their journey lasted a full eight hours, as they crisscrossed the city again and again before finally stopping when the column marched full-speed into the sea. None were hurt, and the party’s success and popularity inspired many to stay forever in this land of dementia.
Balseraph gain ~5000 population (from Kuriotates), gain new unit (Partygoers!), and units involved in festival gain temporary strength bonus
The Bannor: Just… hold… on…
The Bannor, to put it frankly, were screwed from the beginning, and they knew it. The Clan of Embers is a vast nation of strong warriors, and even the Bannor must succumb eventually.
Still, if they were a nation to despair, they would have died long ago. A frantic draft was established, and four new regiments of Demagogues rushed to the Guardwall to support the Heroes already there. Together, the men of Bannor did whatever they could to improve their position. Trenches were dug, walls reinforced, palisades erected, traps created… no effort was spared.
And, as expected, the orcs came. The men of Bannor looked from their walls upon an orcish host that seemingly extended as far as the eye could see – they were outnumbered, at least three to one. Most of the host were weak Goblins, but even excluding them the enemy existed in twice the defenders’ number.
A drum beat, and then another. Then, without warning, the entire army of orcs erupted into a screaming frenzy, rattling arms and pounding the ground like madmen. For hours, they did nothing but taunt their hated enemy, but the Bannor are disciplined, and not apt to leave their posts. It was twilight before the orcs finally attacked.
Imagine a wall of people, extending as far as you can see to your left and right. Imagine that it extends backwards as far as you can see. Imagine, then, that every single one of those people is carrying a pointed weapon, yelling, and sprinting directly at you. This is a close approximation of what the Bannor faced – if anything, it understates the case.
Trenches? They barely slowed the host, as the bodies of the first lines filled them for the progress of the rest. Palisades? Mere wood cannot withstand that sort of force. Walls? Walls can only slow, not stop. The orcs carried ladders, and rams, and picks.
The Bannor are soldiers, though. They met the charge with a flurry of thrown weapons – mostly spears and axes, but a few bows as well. Few orcs died, but more importantly, the charge was blunted somewhat. This bought time for the real weapons to take effect: fire-hoops and boiling water. Orcs are remarkably good firestarters, and no one responds well to a vat of boiling liquid dumped on top of their head.
There was only so much of each, though. Thousands died, but tens of thousands remained. The ladders were brought up, and a flow of invaders began to go up the walls. Waiting at the top to meet them were 20000 Demagogues, led by the most elite fighters to ever exist: The Bannor Heroes. These men are the survivors of hell, and nothing exists in this world that could compare to what they fought there.
And so the orcs rushed up, and the blood rained down. The Bannor swiftly established a system – only half their Demagogues would fight at a time, while the rest would rest behind the walls and continue to use whatever ranged weapons still remained. The Heroes desired no rest, and needed none – their great swords and axes never slowed from fatigue, and wounds that would kill a normal man barely fazed them.
The hour of twilight passed, and the Bannor held the wall. The hour of midnight passed, and they yet held the wall. The hour of predawn passed, and impossibly, they still held the wall.
The sun rose that day to meet an awesome sight – orc bodies were piled higher than the wall itself, but on the top of the wall was a thin line of armored men, and a few ragged flags. The Bannor yet held the wall, and the vast host of orcs was nigh exhausted. Were once there had been tens of thousands, now only a few thousand remained. A countless number of Goblins lay slain; the number of Barbarian dead was close to 60000. However, the Bannor were not without their own losses. The 20000 Demagogues now numbered fewer than 7500, and nearly a half of the valiant Heroes lay dead as well. The remnants were tired, wounded, and atop an increasingly unstable wall. Plus, they still faced a host of 12000 or more.
The rising of the sun had caused the orcs to pull back slightly and reform. The Bannor saw their chance, and took it. The charged at the enemy – and the enemy broke. Even orcs could not sustain such losses as they had.
Their victory was short-lived, however. It was impossible, even more so than the charge from before – but less than an hour later, the orcs came back. With the rest of their army. 30000 fresh warriors, and the true backbone of the Clan – these were the truly experienced fighters, and the strongest. The Bannor had no choice but to retreat, and fight another day. And, perhaps, hope for a miracle…
The Clan loses 18(!) units of Goblins, 7 units of Barbarians, and 2 units of Roving Barbarians.
The Bannor lose 1 unit of Demagogues, and the rest require 2500 men each to heal. The Heroes unit loses half its strength. They also lose the defensive bonus they gained from their wall. Morale goes up by +5
The Ljosolfar/Svartalfar: We’re Still Here
Ummm… yeah. That’s about it. The elvish war seems to be taking a bit of a hiatus, although those that pontificate about these things claim that it’s more of a calm before the storm rather than a true cease-fire.
The Khazad: Ridin’ Dirty
The dwarves spent their time and effort expanding their road network. Not too much has come of it yet, since they’re still in the midst of construction… I hate road work…
The Hippus: Don’t Look At Us, We’re Not Here
Recent inactivity by the government has led to minor protests, and a general feeling of apathy. Productivity has declined as a result.
The Hippus temporarily lose .25 productivity, as they never sent orders. Two more strikes and you’re out, Charles…
Pirates: We’re Not the Lanun, We Swear
A recent surge in sea-based plundering has hit the Svartalfar nation, causing a minor decline in productivity. The Lanun offer to stem these attacks, at the minor cost of 10 gold.
This is a semi-random event, in that I plan to use it nearly every turn on some random nation.
Svartalfar lose .1 productivity temporarily
Fertility: A Topic We Can All Enjoy
Every year (every other update) the religions of Erebus join together in a massive holiday dedicated to fertility. It’s hosted in a different city each year – and this year it was Kwythellar. Predictably, a fertility festival encourages… population growth.
Kuriotates get +10000 population
How was that, for a first time? Should there be more random events? Did I miss anythin
And so a new era begins. Like all beginnings, it is slow… quiet… almost impossible to detect, for most. Many do not yet understand what is about to happen; those that live at it’s end will understand all too well…
The Malakim: All Together Now, Let’s Pray
The desert-people of the west, in an effort to boost their population, invested much of their income into short-term crop growth. In order to guarantee their plantings would, uh, “take”, they spent the rest of their effort praying to Lugus. The crops grow quickly, and the resulting harvest fuels a small population boost.
Malakim gain ~1000 pop.
The Doviello: Our Foot, Your Face
Unlike the desert weaklings to the south, the Doviello chose to put their efforts into raising an army, and letting it out to play.
The first Beastmen drafted were immediately sent to the south to scout. Disguised as herdsmen, they approached Golden Leane, intending to gather information for a coming assault. The Malakim, however, are suspicious of these “herdsmen” – and acting on those suspicions, attempt to drive them off by scaring off their animals.
Beastmen are not very good at staying calm in tight situations. Instead of simply leaving, they stop trying to hide their identity. They charge. The handful of Malakim civilians who were tasked with scaring off the invaders die within minutes, and the victorious Doviello continue toward the city. Golden Leane has no walls – nothing stands between them and victory except a thin line of Priests, and a few thousand common citizens. What can go wrong?
The Priests do what they can: encourage the populace, stand in between the city and the invaders, and pray with the greatest amount of fervor they can muster. The initial charge crushes them like a hammer crushes a peanut – but their sacrifice is not in vain. More than half of them die, but the time it takes to kill them allows for two vital things to happen. One, the more able citizens of the city are able to gather weapons – and two, the gods turn their eye to the area.
The countercharge is unorganized and relatively powerless – but to Doviello eyes, the Malakim are no longer simple men. Some act of the gods changes their appearance to that of giants, and even the Doviello are not immune to fear. As quickly as they had advanced, they now retreat, while gleeful Malakim militia stab them in the back. The whole affair lasted no more than three hours.
The remaining Priests treat all those they can, but they remain greatly weakened. The armed citizens, wary to further attacks, decide to forego standing down and instead reorganize themselves into two Militia units, one of spear and one of sword. They lack nothing for bravery, but they have no experience in creating a true army – and their need is desperate. News arrives that the Beastmen scouts, instead of retreating out of the country, instead moved west. There, they meet up with Frostling reinforcements and begin a campaign of burning and pillaging whatever they can find. The new Tribesmen militia arm up and move to counter this threat while the Spears and Priests stay behind to fortify what they can.
It is good they do so, since this first Beastmen attack was nothing more than a reconnaissance in force. The real assault comes a week later. Another full regiment of Beastmen, combined with a heaver and more experienced Sons of Asena regiment, are approaching from the north. This time, there is at least a few hours’ warning.
The initial Doviello plan had been to surround the city and use a Beastmen hammer to force the Malakim into a Sons of Asena anvil. Like most Doviello plans, its simple, but also like most Doviello plans, it doesn’t last for longer than a half hour. At the sight of the armed Spearmen militia, tactics go out the window and the entire army charges once more at the city.
This time, the gods do not help. The Spearmen, outmatched and outnumbered, still fight bravely. However, standing to fight only means they stand to die. The invaders are slowed for a bit, but after killing the defenders to the man they continue on to the city. The citizens had expected the worst, and had attempted to evacuate – but while their defenders bought them some time, it wasn’t enough for everyone. The Priests, however, manage to escort what survivors there are out of the danger zone and save a small number of militia.
Golden Leane held some 50000 people. Today, only 30000 still remain alive and free. However, the news from the west is a slight glimmer of hope – the Tribesmen militia managed to soundly defeat the Frostlings and Beastmen there, and stopped further losses in that area. The Malakim are reeling, but angry – record numbers of men answer the calls to draft.
Malakim lose ~20000 population, gain Tribesmen militia, gain Spears militia, require 20 gold to heal Priests, require 4000 men to heal Spears, require 500 men to heal Tribesmen, lose Golden Leane, draft modifier +.2, morale +.5
Doviello gain three Slave units, require 3000 men to heal Beastmen units, plunder 10 gold – Golden Leane is depopulated, will not provide income
The Balseraph: Party Like It’s Your Birthday
The Balseraph, under the “inspiration” of Perpentach, throw a festival in honor of the common pony. It’s called the Super Giant Fun Party Time Bash, and like all Balseraph parties, is an instant hit. Inspired by Balseraph posters, people traveled miles to partake – most notably from the Kuriotates.
Even for the Balseraph, this event was of especial note. Ponies (not horses!) throughout Jubilee were treated as honored guests, invited into homes and given the finest foods and tack. There was a pony beauty contest, a pony skills challenge, a pony combat arena, a pony eating event (both of and by), a pony racing course, a pony rodeo, and more… but the undoubted masterpiece of it all was the Grand Pony March.
Through the streets of Jubilee, a troupe of Mimics dressed up to resemble the honored pony… and were ridden by some of the ugliest Freaks anyone had ever seen! Their journey lasted a full eight hours, as they crisscrossed the city again and again before finally stopping when the column marched full-speed into the sea. None were hurt, and the party’s success and popularity inspired many to stay forever in this land of dementia.
Balseraph gain ~5000 population (from Kuriotates), gain new unit (Partygoers!), and units involved in festival gain temporary strength bonus
The Bannor: Just… hold… on…
The Bannor, to put it frankly, were screwed from the beginning, and they knew it. The Clan of Embers is a vast nation of strong warriors, and even the Bannor must succumb eventually.
Still, if they were a nation to despair, they would have died long ago. A frantic draft was established, and four new regiments of Demagogues rushed to the Guardwall to support the Heroes already there. Together, the men of Bannor did whatever they could to improve their position. Trenches were dug, walls reinforced, palisades erected, traps created… no effort was spared.
And, as expected, the orcs came. The men of Bannor looked from their walls upon an orcish host that seemingly extended as far as the eye could see – they were outnumbered, at least three to one. Most of the host were weak Goblins, but even excluding them the enemy existed in twice the defenders’ number.
A drum beat, and then another. Then, without warning, the entire army of orcs erupted into a screaming frenzy, rattling arms and pounding the ground like madmen. For hours, they did nothing but taunt their hated enemy, but the Bannor are disciplined, and not apt to leave their posts. It was twilight before the orcs finally attacked.
Imagine a wall of people, extending as far as you can see to your left and right. Imagine that it extends backwards as far as you can see. Imagine, then, that every single one of those people is carrying a pointed weapon, yelling, and sprinting directly at you. This is a close approximation of what the Bannor faced – if anything, it understates the case.
Trenches? They barely slowed the host, as the bodies of the first lines filled them for the progress of the rest. Palisades? Mere wood cannot withstand that sort of force. Walls? Walls can only slow, not stop. The orcs carried ladders, and rams, and picks.
The Bannor are soldiers, though. They met the charge with a flurry of thrown weapons – mostly spears and axes, but a few bows as well. Few orcs died, but more importantly, the charge was blunted somewhat. This bought time for the real weapons to take effect: fire-hoops and boiling water. Orcs are remarkably good firestarters, and no one responds well to a vat of boiling liquid dumped on top of their head.
There was only so much of each, though. Thousands died, but tens of thousands remained. The ladders were brought up, and a flow of invaders began to go up the walls. Waiting at the top to meet them were 20000 Demagogues, led by the most elite fighters to ever exist: The Bannor Heroes. These men are the survivors of hell, and nothing exists in this world that could compare to what they fought there.
And so the orcs rushed up, and the blood rained down. The Bannor swiftly established a system – only half their Demagogues would fight at a time, while the rest would rest behind the walls and continue to use whatever ranged weapons still remained. The Heroes desired no rest, and needed none – their great swords and axes never slowed from fatigue, and wounds that would kill a normal man barely fazed them.
The hour of twilight passed, and the Bannor held the wall. The hour of midnight passed, and they yet held the wall. The hour of predawn passed, and impossibly, they still held the wall.
The sun rose that day to meet an awesome sight – orc bodies were piled higher than the wall itself, but on the top of the wall was a thin line of armored men, and a few ragged flags. The Bannor yet held the wall, and the vast host of orcs was nigh exhausted. Were once there had been tens of thousands, now only a few thousand remained. A countless number of Goblins lay slain; the number of Barbarian dead was close to 60000. However, the Bannor were not without their own losses. The 20000 Demagogues now numbered fewer than 7500, and nearly a half of the valiant Heroes lay dead as well. The remnants were tired, wounded, and atop an increasingly unstable wall. Plus, they still faced a host of 12000 or more.
The rising of the sun had caused the orcs to pull back slightly and reform. The Bannor saw their chance, and took it. The charged at the enemy – and the enemy broke. Even orcs could not sustain such losses as they had.
Their victory was short-lived, however. It was impossible, even more so than the charge from before – but less than an hour later, the orcs came back. With the rest of their army. 30000 fresh warriors, and the true backbone of the Clan – these were the truly experienced fighters, and the strongest. The Bannor had no choice but to retreat, and fight another day. And, perhaps, hope for a miracle…
The Clan loses 18(!) units of Goblins, 7 units of Barbarians, and 2 units of Roving Barbarians.
The Bannor lose 1 unit of Demagogues, and the rest require 2500 men each to heal. The Heroes unit loses half its strength. They also lose the defensive bonus they gained from their wall. Morale goes up by +5
The Ljosolfar/Svartalfar: We’re Still Here
Ummm… yeah. That’s about it. The elvish war seems to be taking a bit of a hiatus, although those that pontificate about these things claim that it’s more of a calm before the storm rather than a true cease-fire.
The Khazad: Ridin’ Dirty
The dwarves spent their time and effort expanding their road network. Not too much has come of it yet, since they’re still in the midst of construction… I hate road work…
The Hippus: Don’t Look At Us, We’re Not Here
Recent inactivity by the government has led to minor protests, and a general feeling of apathy. Productivity has declined as a result.
The Hippus temporarily lose .25 productivity, as they never sent orders. Two more strikes and you’re out, Charles…
Pirates: We’re Not the Lanun, We Swear
A recent surge in sea-based plundering has hit the Svartalfar nation, causing a minor decline in productivity. The Lanun offer to stem these attacks, at the minor cost of 10 gold.
This is a semi-random event, in that I plan to use it nearly every turn on some random nation.
Svartalfar lose .1 productivity temporarily
Fertility: A Topic We Can All Enjoy
Every year (every other update) the religions of Erebus join together in a massive holiday dedicated to fertility. It’s hosted in a different city each year – and this year it was Kwythellar. Predictably, a fertility festival encourages… population growth.
Kuriotates get +10000 population
How was that, for a first time? Should there be more random events? Did I miss anythin
Just awesome. I was thrilled to see me still holding the wall 
.
