Real Worlders In Fantasy

[ArlEammon]

One day you were all minding your own business and BAM, reality, at least your reality, hit. It seems you all have your own Kingdoms to run away from home, and thus, you were pulled into this most unoccuring of circumstances to take possession of your throne. Whoever you inherited your Kingdoms from, they are yours now. The year is 4,038, After Ruin. Four thousand years after a great series of calamities struck this alien world of Gharda. . . Will a series of most unfortunate events occuring just when you arrive cause the great Ruin to happen again?

NOTE:
Attempt administrative actions: (Build, train warriors, invest in industry/commerce, improve your countries, basically)

[Salbazier]

The sovereign sits in an eloquent chair, contemplating his current state of being. From the balcony where he sits he can see the view of majestic view of Absalom. His capital, the centre of his realm. Center of the world they says. In the horizon he can see the beach of Aht uhrgan and Breland. A realms of warrior and a realm of progress. Exodar is beyond the sight of his (normal) vision, its maginificent structure hidden by the highlands, but he know where it is. Somewhere, in a room without space, within a structure that was never built, is a guild that doesn't exist. The House Dimir, known only to children and oldmen's tales.

This is his Realm. His empire. Elenia.

Argent Solbright. That was the name he has adopt. His birth name he has left behind. That name was of different world. It carries a different meaning. While he was here, for ever or whatever, he will use this name.

For whatever reason he cannot comprehend, the powers that be has put him as the absolute ruler of this vast realm. Not only political power, he has also been bestowed with actual powers.

The people has accepted him. They crowned him and call him Sovereign. That title he choose himself. It sounds better than 'king' or 'emperor'.

And so he reigns. For the better or worse, he too has accepted. He is here for a reason. Whatever may happens he will protect his people. That is their hope of him.

"Your majesty," one of his courtier shows up in the balcony. " It is time."

Argent rises from his seat. "Yes, let us go" He walk away from the balcony. The blue clothed guardians, previously stand watching in the sides of the balcony's door, moves up to follow him. the courtier too, soon follows

As he about enter the throne room, the speaker announces him. Everyone inside stands to honor him while he walks to sit in his throne.

To be honest, he thinks as he takes a seat a, a presidential style office will be better. Though I must admit this whole thinks does look cool.

His whole grand council has assembled here, ready to report and take commands.

Now, the real thing shall begin from here

"The Grand Council will now be started"

-----------------

Argent listens attentively to his councilors report. It is a bit hard to follow everything but he tried his best.

"Since there is no imminent danger to the realm to the realm right now, the economic issues will be important to adress" He says to the council

One of the generals present looks like he want to say something but withhold himself.

"I will give more resouce to the magical research in Breland. If we can improve on the industry, it will strengthen not only our economy but our miltary as well"

His councilors nod in agreements

Spoiler

Show

Ehh, not so sure what to do. So, for now I will invest in magical research. Trying to get advancemnt on technolgy/magic to improve industry output. Better tools, faster production, whatever the researchers can come up with.

[RufusCorvus]

The Death Knights found him lying in the snow, a lone figure in the frozen wilds of Northred. Just as the Lich King had said. Not a casualty to the bitter cold--snow and frost barely clung to him before it melted away. Then they saw it--the mark the Lich King had foretold. Across the man's skin, beneath his long locks of hair, a glimmering red tattoo. A raven in red. This man was undoubtedly the one.

The Lich King had barely looked at the marking before he sent out a call to the others--the vampires of Nosgoth lead by their elder, Kain; the King of Karrnath and his necromantic legion; the Undying Council and their knowledge and magic from immemorial; and finally New Crobuzon with its engines and constructs. All met and mingled on the icy breadth of Northrend with the Lich King's own forces, waiting for the chosen of the dead, the Raven in Red, to awaken.

The leaders of these Dead Nations gathered in the Lich King's throne room, where their prophesied leader sat upon the Lich King's own icy throne, wrapped in a simple brown blanket, his hair and beard grown long and tangled obscuring his face. Beneath the wild locks, his scarlet marking shone bright. None of those present can remember how long they waited, but at last, their chosen stirred, first with a murmur, then a lull of his head. The leader move to the throne when a psychic wave hits them all, sending them to their knees.

They could feel the Raven's probing eye scanning their minds, accumulating their knowledge. At first terrifying, they each, one by one, succumbed to the Raven's intrusion. As quick as it came, the searching went, leaving one word echoing from the walls of ice: "Build. "

In their minds, images flashed among each of the leaders, a juggernaut of the living, the unliving, and the never-lived, suffused with a pulse of magic.

The Raven was silent once more, shifting on his icy throne.

The leaders looked at one another and knew what they must do.

Spoiler

Show

I suppose I'll begin by building up my "tech level." Basically, researching fusing mechanics with magic as well as working on upgrading necromancy. Maybe building more generic soldiers as well if that's alright.

[Maethirion]

And so he was here. This... place. This Du-valsa.

He didn't know how he had got here, he didn't know why. All he knew was that he had felt a strange spinning sensation, and found himself in the middle of a vast council hall, with a group of very powerful looking people looking down at him.

He was still in shock. They had proclaimed this as a sign, and Alexander was now the ruler of this Empire. The Alexi. The defender.

Alexander.

Defender of Men.

So they had named him, and so he vowed to achieve. He was still unsure as exactly how he was meant to achieve this, but he was sure he'd work it out in time.

Pulling out maps in his personal chambers, Alexander studied the layout and various strengths and weaknesses of this strange land with the help of its former leaders. It had once been a collection of many kingdoms, but their powers had waned, and they all now co-existed in some form of council. That is until Alexander's arrival.

In discussion with his various aides and advisors, Alexander decided on a course of action.

"The strengths of this nation lie mostly in magic. We should be trying to play to that strength. But it seems in the past you lot have let your logistics go out the window for the sake of more knowledge. This must cease. Train Pegasus Knights for transport and scouting, and set up better supply chains to the capital and to the outlying towns. Scout for more resources. Make the whole system more efficient. The more resources we can get now, and the better we can use them, the more and more efficient research you can do LATER."

Spoiler

Show

Well... I'm a bit confused as to what to do. But I think you can never go wrong with more resources, better infrastructure and a corps of aerial scouts.

[THEChanger]

Harold Mactire stood in his throne room, gazing out at the desert which comprised his new realm. "How beautiful." He murmered to himself. And it was, in its way. The noonday light glinting off the shifting sands brought forth a kalidascope of light. Interacting with the shadows surrounding Ula'Tek, it created swirling patterns of light and darkness. But the beauty masked the deadly nature of his world, something still in the forefront of Harold's mind. It had been some time since he had come to this world. The memories he had of his old life on Earth were slowly fading. After all, nothing on that world could possibly compare to this one. He was the tyrant of an entire nation! He ruled this desert with an iron fist, and not one of its citizens questioned his orders! Was this not the dream of thousands across Earth? Was this not everything Harold could have wanted and more? Harold let out a deep chuckle. Oh yes it was.

The door to the throne room quietly opened, and in stepped Jin'zakk, Warlord of the Trolls and Harold's second-in-command. "Greetens, Big Mon Harold. Wat be your ordars, Loa?" Harold's smile grew bigger. "Good morning, Jin'zakk. Firstly, go speak with Lord Brendan of the Black Fang. He is to send his smiths to some of your weaponmasters, and show them the art of smithing. Use the ore we have been mining from the Northern mountains. Secondly, I have been hearing rumors of incursions by rouge bands of undead in those mountains. What can you tell me about that?" Jin'zakk cleared his throat. "Big Mon, those be isolated incedencts! I be taken care o dat myself." Harold nodded. "See that you do. I would hate to have to send Gannon to oversee the mines. You know how he detests your people. But that is thought for later. Our final piece of business for the day. I believe that, after speaking with some of the witch doctors, it has become clear that the spirits have brought others from my world to this place. I do not know if they will be friend or foe. This I do know. There is only one way safely in or out of the Blacklands. The Eastern Gate. We will be going there. Inform the shadow mages. I also wish for Mol'Carn to join us. Send some wyrvens." Jin'zakk bowed low to the ground. "It will be as ya say, Big Mon." As Harold returned to his window, he felt the floors shake and rumble. Far from being alarmed, the feeling gave Harold a sense of elation. Slowly, the city of Ula'Tek rose from the desert below, and began it's journey towards the Eastern Gate.

Spoiler

Show

Alright, so you probably have a few questions. First, what's going on. One: I'm setting focus on tech for a little while, to bring up my Trolls to Iron Age tech. Two: Due to rumors of attacks on my mines in the North, I am beefing up the Troll presence there. I have also threatened to send one of my enforcers, Gannon of the Gerudo, there. Gannon hates the Trolls, and would probably make their lives miserable, giving them additonal incentive to work harder. Three: The Floating Citadels of Mol'Carn and Ula'Tek are moving from their normal patrols in the south and mid of the Blacklands respectivly to the Eastern Gate, which is virtually the only way in or out of the Blacklands, unless you feel like going over the mountains.
Now, a little on the Blacklands. It was previously occupied by the Shadowsand Trolls, who worship various spirits and Loas(minor gods), and the Gerudo Tribe, ruled by Gannon. The Black Fang, a group of human mercenaries, also made the Blacklands their base of operations. Above the desert floated various islands, kept in place by the mysterious energy of the Plane of Shadow. Harold united these three groups under his banner, and has forged them into a unified force bent on world domination through whatever means they have. The Trolls and Gerudo are currently in Stone/Bronze Age tech levels, but each have very strong magic. The Black Fang is Iron Age tech, but it is small. The north, south, and west borders are comprised of two mountain ranges and a great ocean. The one way into the Blacklands is the Eastern Gate, a break in the mountains roughly 100 miles long. There is no actual gate, though the Gerudo do maintain many forts along it, one thing they are very good at.

[ArlEammon]

OOC: Come on now, don't be shy.:)