-=-

The extent of the injuries Caesar suffered at the hands of the raiders was such that he did not fully recover his ambulatory faculties, which presented a problem for the Nordmenn of his tribe.

This was a much-ruined people, hundreds dead and their stronghold burned down. Vulnerable and open to attacks by foes both ancient and new, the fearful elders of the tribe pushed against Haakon for the naming of a new possible successor, in case, they argued, this Vakur ended up unfeasible for the role.

Fear is the guiding hand to many mistakes. Yet there is wisdom in heeding those signs of alarm.

Not so far lies opportunistic tribes to the north and west, where the kinsmen of Haakon, father of Vakur, is held in envy and contempt for their late prosperity. The verdant east, where the men calling themselves Ynglings had come from, is unknown territory to the people of Haakon, likely to be frought with danger and the same people that had transgressed against the tribe in the sacred night-time of Midsummer. Of the south, where the two tribes allied to Haakon Chieftain lay, it was considered dubious by the elders whether the two would keep faith once they learned of the weakened state that Old Einar's tribe had degenerated into.

Thus the tribe had need to establish a competent and wholesome successor to the chieftain Haakon so as to stave off any chance of a succession crisis, which plagues many such kinship-based communities. In Vakur they saw a cripple, stamped with doomed fate with inauspicious wounds. The loss of an eye they could ignore, but the glistening gold from the continuously bleeding side singled him out as unnatural, possibly of the Alfar who delight in despicable cruelties. Vakur's blood relations with Haakon itself was questioned by some of the more daring youths, roused to ambition by whispering elders, though never openly to the face of the reigning chieftain.

>Thus, Vakur found himself apprenticing to the venerable gothi, in whom the roles of medicine man and priest were conjoined. This was as good as a declaration of his decision to step away from the line of succession for the tribe, for no man of god may lead the tribe as its jarl, according to the customs of the North. And with good reason - priest-chieftains attracted the attention of the gods, who made use of them as puppets for their unfathomable plans. [A Man of God]

>Yet Vakur retained his status as drengr, footsoldier of the tribe, braving the hushed whispers and cryptic looks thrown to him. His side-wound slowed him in peace and war, but his arm was strong, and it was long past the raiding season. Hunters were what the starving tribe required, and this role he fulfilled as an archer of considerable skill - to the bemused mockery of the warriors, for whom the ranged arch is akin to cowardice. [The Feeding Hand]

>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

>>3931953
>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

>>3931953
The man who would be Chieftain

>>3931953
>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

>>3931953
>>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]
Is there an archive because I missed the ass end of the last thread.

>>3932082
never mind i found it

>>3931953
>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

>>3931941
>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

>>3931953
>>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

>>3931953
>>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]
As if Caesar could be anything else.
Welcome back Fortuna!

>>3932493
Good to be back. Sleep schedule is all kinds of fucked right now, but I'm trying to put it back to Normal again, so update will be very spotty in terms of timing. But I'll try to commit to one update a day, as usual.

>Despite the adversities afforded in this life, Vakur continued the unofficial steps toward chieftainship, clashing over other youthful warriors over leadership in small war-bands that would perform little raids against their hostile neighbours. Though small in responsibility, it is ever from these nuclear-units of fighting men from which the leaders of the morrow are chosen. And Caesar had no desire to be overlooked. [The Man Who Would Be Chieftain]

In the struggle for primacy among the newly-named warriors you will push, and be pushed against. Hot heads resurface even among the Northmen for whom impulsivity is a mortal flaw. Such is the callsign of youth! You were young, once, Caesar. Can you truly blame them, those young stallions, eager to make a name for themselves, stud with the most beautiful mates?

Just as there exists the cursus honorum for those of the Romans with aspirations of serving the State, so do the hopeful among the Nordmenn go through trials and ordeals in highly informal positions that grant them experiences in duties of responsibility. The Nordmenn count higher the personal honour of an individual than his lineage and blood-kin, placing above their parentage and material wealth the qualities of leadership that may be used to guide them through difficult times.

And all times are difficult here, Vakur. There is no softening the blows that comes to a tribe whose chieftain has made the wrong choice. Survival is a tenuous proposition even for the largest and wealthiest of tribes.

Heed our warning well, you who would be king among these fiercely independent warrior-brutes. A single mistake will spell doom for your kin. But we speak too soon; you are but a footsoldier - yours is not to command, but to obey, and the duties of leadership remains on the stoop-shouldered Haakon who has seen many deaths.

-=-
Twelfth Winter
Spring

Six boy-men stalk quietly through the moss-covered wood, relying on the soft greens and their own slowness to mask the minute clinks of mail, the occasional tap of shield-rim against shirt. And leading them at the head of the silent procession is one greybeard, a warrior clearly past his prime, unusually well-equipped and well-armoured all.

This is the nucleus, the smallest fighting unit within which brotherhood-in-arms are forged - and deathly vendettas. The drengir, young warriors, unlanded, untempered by experience and age, eye each other uncertainly. There is a tension here, an undercurrent of electric ambition that makes the youths wary of each other.

And the greybeard, he who is the nominal leader of the squad, is wholly uncomfortable with the situation.

He remembers a time when the tribe of Einar, foremost of the Three of Lade was large and wealthy. He remembers, too, that the practice of sending out such tiny raid parties is one only the minor tribelings execute on account of the danger inherent in such operations. A desperate tactic.

He remembers and wishes for the good old times before Haakon was chieftain, a time when Haakon's father instead reigned - and reigned well, in his nostalgic mind. He forgets the tyranny of the gold-greedy Einar who sold out his tribesmen as mercenaries to fight year-long for the accumulation of his hoard, the temporary loss of ancestral allies and ancient family ties that Haakon did much to repair.

Recollections are ever gold-tinged. That is the folly of the elderly-wise. But it is also true that the tribe of Einar has fallen in the eyes of his allies. Haakon leads no longer as the paramount chieftain among the Three.

A snowy owl hoots sleepily, startling flighty Hrafn.

>You are the boy at the vanguard. In your hand is the longsword of a man vanquished two years past, the same man who took your eye. It is his buckler and mail that you wear, too, easily resized and adjusted - such is the charm of the mail, unlike the plate. Your equipment sets you apart already from the rest of the youths, being of clearly greater quality, though the others are by no means shabbily dressed. The thousand-strong raiders had left behind copious amounts of war materiel, more than enough for the diminished people of Einar.
The sword is truly the noble of weapons. It hogs metal like an absentee landlord extracts the wealth of his estate.

>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.
For some reason, she visits every summer as part of the annual delegation from jarl Iseldur's tribe.

>The bow and ten arrows occupy what space you might have used to carry the spear and shield, to the derision of the other youths. Let them mock and deride - you will ensure that meat is brought to the table tonight. And such a ranged option can be very useful if you would rather not leave survivors.
Survivors can bring unwanted attention, after all.

>>3932629
>>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.

mending the relations and making the tribe stronger, sometimes we have to make sacrifices
and spears rule

>>3932629

>>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.

Is Iseldur one of the tribe leaders farher ruled?

Nice to see this back, can't wait to kill the Aesir, marry Freyja and populate the north with demi-gods

>>3932629
>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.
Maybe this is too nice

>>3932629

>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.

>>3932629
>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.

We need every ally we cam find

>>3932629
>in a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.

>In a fit of unreasonable generosity, you returned to Arni once-wife of Finngeir his equipment of war, the very thing she had remained behind in your father's fortress that fateful night to barter for. An uncommonly generous act, which is a roundabout way of describing out one's material loss. It is the common spear that you now wield, like the rest of the drengir of this small band, accompanied by a wooden shield.

A solidarity among footsoldiers was formed. You are one of them, not separated by a different class of equipment. And with the sense of belonging comes a reluctant camaraderie, that sense of fellowship between awkward young men with a mutual goal.

It is liberating.

How long has it been since you felt the trampled field beneath a soldier's boots, the weight of battle weapons heavy in your hands? They bring you spectral reminiscence of a simpler past. A time when you had the greatest army in the world at your beck and call, and a simple objective - the subjugation of the Gaulish continent. It is your fondest memory yet. Civil wars are inglorious. Nothing like battling outsiders and foreigners.

Here, all outside the clan is the Other. The manner of their tongues, the colour of their skins - they do not matter. What is important is the claimed land of the clan to be respected. Wardstones inscribed with common rune of the mundane kind stand in visible highpoints, proclaiming the sovereignty of tribe so-and-so, demarcations of rivers and plains and hills that play host to sacred cairns.

Sometimes they move. It is a silent dispute between neighbour-tribes, never-ending, often bloody. The wardstones are the physical embodiment of the tribe's willingness to enforce its bounds, the telling frequency of their patrols. To lapse in its replacements is to invite disaster by invasion. Appearance of strength dissuades preemptive strikes.

Narfi the Greybeard frowns as the small troop reaches a standing wardstone. Someone camped here. Dead embers whiten the ground where someone hastily killed its flames with soil.

"Invaders," Vagn declares the obvious. Not so bright, the stolid youth, but he is the biggest in the group, a veritable bear of an almost-man. His father is one of the well-to-do of the tribe, his wealth tied to the farmlands in which sixteen thralls toil. His face tints in a healthy pink as he gasps out the words, shivering from the lingering winter chill, despite the moose cloak thrown over his shoulder. He surely has a doting mother.

A mother. Something that you lack in this life. It seems the gods saw fit to exchange father for mother in this life. Even in your reincarnation, your parentage is incomplete by half.

"We should chase after them," Vagn speaks, again over-loud. He does not care for subtleties now that you have sure signs that the quarry has fled long ago. "Show them that the clan of Gruff Einar is not to be fucked with!" His words carry the potency of his age, and they compel Thrain and Grimar to agree immediately with far too many words. Lickspittles and sycophants. But those are legitimate methods of survival as well.

"The ash is still warm," cautions Kvasir, the hunter's son. He is on his knees, feeling the ash of the dead campfire with his finger. "We didn't see any smoke coming here, but they might not have gotten far. It would be best if we were to keep silent."

"The hunter's son would advice tardiness when the prey is afoot," Grimar sneers with the confidence of a general of a thousand. "What next, Wine-Doting Kvasir? Shall we set traps round the wardstones? Wait for the enemy scouts to fall in voluntarily?"

The young are full of piss and vinegar, no matter the nation, no matter the people.

>Distasteful as it is, the brutal put-down now may prevent a vendetta in the midst of battle. "Gods above, silence your mouths if you cannot speak of anything of intelligence," you snarl. "Vagn, do you walk around blundering around with the loud stamping of boots and heavy breathes when you sneak off to Kalla's homestead? Keep your thralls' mewlings checked, lest someone else do it for you." [SEVERITAS] [MEDIUM DC]

>Let the manlings yap. You focus on the surrounding, trying to read the trail as your uncle once taught you. He was no hunter, but all adult warriors are familiar with patrols such as these. The odd broken branch, a slight indention in the frosted mud - these are the tell-tale signs of an unseen egress. [INDVSTRIA] [HIGH DC]

>"His father may be a hunter, but his son is a drengr all the same," you speak. "Be careful how you speak, Grimar. Men have challenged the holmgang-duel for lesser insults. Be happy that Kvasir is far more reasonable than you are to begin such self-destructive battles in the middle of a patrol." The voice of reason - but reason so often goes unheard, not in the testosterone-filled brains of a young man. [HONESTAS] [LOW DC]

>Custom

Been a while since I wrote quest stuff so if I am sounding too stiff, please do tell. It always helps to have a second and third opinion on writing. Difficult for the writer himself to critique his texts, since it came from his brain.

>>3933699
>Distasteful as it is, the brutal put-down now may prevent a vendetta in the midst of battle. "Gods above, silence your mouths if you cannot speak of anything of intelligence," you snarl. "Vagn, do you walk around blundering around with the loud stamping of boots and heavy breathes when you sneak off to Kalla's homestead? Keep your thralls' mewlings checked, lest someone else do it for you." [SEVERITAS] [MEDIUM DC]

>>3933699
>>"His father may be a hunter, but his son is a drengr all the same," you speak. "Be careful how you speak, Grimar. Men have challenged the holmgang-duel for lesser insults. Be happy that Kvasir is far more reasonable than you are to begin such self-destructive battles in the middle of a patrol." The voice of reason - but reason so often goes unheard, not in the testosterone-filled brains of a young man. [HONESTAS] [LOW DC]

>>3933699

>Distasteful as it is, the brutal put-down now may prevent a vendetta in the midst of battle. "Gods above, silence your mouths if you cannot speak of anything of intelligence," you snarl. "Vagn, do you walk around blundering around with the loud stamping of boots and heavy breathes when you sneak off to Kalla's homestead? Keep your thralls' mewlings checked, lest someone else do it for you." [SEVERITAS] [MEDIUM DC]

>>"His father may be a hunter, but his son is a drengr all the same," you speak. "Be careful how you speak, Grimar. Men have challenged the holmgang-duel for lesser insults. Be happy that Kvasir is far more reasonable than you are to begin such self-destructive battles in the middle of a patrol." The voice of reason - but reason so often goes unheard, not in the testosterone-filled brains of a young man. [HONESTAS] [LOW DC]

what happened to the two gothi boys we rescued?

>>3933699
>"His father may be a hunter, but his son is a drengr all the same," you speak. "Be careful how you speak, Grimar. Men have challenged the holmgang-duel for lesser insults. Be happy that Kvasir is far more reasonable than you are to begin such self-destructive battles in the middle of a patrol." The voice of reason - but reason so often goes unheard, not in the testosterone-filled brains of a young man. [HONESTAS] [LOW DC]

>>3933699
>"His father may be a hunter, but his son is a drengr all the same," you speak. "Be careful how you speak, Grimar. Men have challenged the holmgang-duel for lesser insults. Be happy that Kvasir is far more reasonable than you are to begin such self-destructive battles in the middle of a patrol." The voice of reason - but reason so often goes unheard, not in the testosterone-filled brains of a young man. [HONESTAS] [LOW DC]

>>3933823
Alive and well, with more interactivity had you chosen apprenticeship

>>3934247
>>3934123
>>3933823
>>3933736
Ah, the most difficult choice. Throw down three bone-cut dice of sides each numbering a hundred, so that the smoke may clear from the hall of augury!

>3d100

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>3934856
>>3934856

now we fail and everyone fights!

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>3934856

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>3934856
Man, I forgot how to roll, but here it is.

this was a roll under rigth?

Rolled 96, 88, 31 = 215 (3d100)

>>3934856

>>3935104
Yep, and three d100 was the right one, forgot to add a space between 3 and d100. It really feels rough to start QMing again even though that break was only ~2wks! Writing

>>3934928
>Success

Gravity reflects on your steady words, these words of caution to the headstrong bull, and like silvery knife against Alfar-flesh do they cut. Vagn backs down before the belittled hunter's son can make a retort - sure to begin the deadly escalation of mutual violence. "Shut up, Grimar," he admonishes simply, unwilling to be dragged into a blood-feud of his underling's making. A look of betrayal floats onto the worm-tongue'd boy's face but for a brief moment, before submerging to a deferential smile.

You suppress a shiver, feeling phantom wounds of senatorial daggers. That is one man to keep an eye out on.

Kvasir flashes you a grateful glance, the glimmer of a beginning trust - and perhaps a budding loyalty from thereon. Hunters are not appreciated as they should be in a land where the trees listen and the beasts are larger than they should be, for the sole reason that they do not partake in the raids. Instead, they range the sylvan wilds in search of meat, occasionally returning with smoked meats from secret wooden lodges and clay jars of jellied fruits. They are men who live in-between the tribe and the wilds.

A curious family, you think. And a secretive one. Less charitable of the clansmen joke that Kvasir is the offspring of doe and man.

"The wardstone is moved, and the culprit long gone," Narfi Old-Legs says at last, who has watched the fight, but nothing to stop it. "What do we do next? Grimar, you are most free with your words. Go on, speak - you have our attention."

"We-ll," the raven-haired youth drawls, stalling for time. "We should focus on continuing the patrol, of course. We must fulfill our orders, after all, like proper drengir. And-"

"Vagn?" Narfi interrupts. "One thing. A leader must focus on the immediate next, not only the vague long-term plan. How would you have us act right here, right now, right at this moment?"

The bullish boy inflates, flattered at being asked by a true adult. "What Grimar said has merit," he begins. "But." Grimar winces. "We should remember to move carefully in the woods, as my mother always says. Even if this place is part of the trail, we shouldn't be moving around in the dark. So I'd have us set up camp."

The older man nods without changing his expression. "Kvasir. I would know what you would do."

"The dusk comes, but that just makes it easier for the tracker than the tracked," he replies hesitantly. "They will begin to tire, and cease taking the careful steps not to leave a trail, believing in the cover of darkness. I think we should go on."

"Very confident of your tracking abilities, eh?" the eldest replies. "And what say you to that, Vakur?" he asks. If you were a child-boy, you would have felt resentment to him for singling you out after all the answers were seemingly taken. Whatever answer you give, it'll now seem as if to be a copy.

>But you are above such petty emotions. [Pick one of the >>]
>>"Kvasir's," you state, resolute. "The present time is the best in which to pursue a fleeing foe." [DISCIPLINA]
>>"Vagn has it right," you tell him, not in small part to ameliorate what offence he may have taken from your previous words. "If things would come to blows later, it would be all the better for our resting now." [PRVDENTIA]
>>"Grimar's is the most prudent option," you speak without thorn of a fellow you had a moment ago rebuked. "I would not have us fail our very first ranging." [VIRTVS]

>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

>>3935326
>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

but seriously

>>"Kvasir's," you state, resolute. "The present time is the best in which to pursue a fleeing foe." [DISCIPLINA]

He said he could do it, let him prove it or fail trying

>>3935349
Cant fault your logic, supporting >>3935326

>>3935326

>>"Kvasir's," you state, resolute. "The present time is the best in which to pursue a fleeing foe." [DISCIPLINA]

We mudt persue them now, if they are able to report, even if we manage to kill them later, the damage will already be done. They will know the wardstone was unguarded for some time and they will lounch raids that will cost us a lot to defend, if some young welps die to prevent raids in our lands so be it

>>3935326
>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

>>"Kvasir's," you state, resolute. "The present time is the best in which to pursue a fleeing foe." [DISCIPLINA]

Are both possible?

>>3935326
>>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

>>3935326
>>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

>>3935326
>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

>>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]

>>3935326
>"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs." [COMITAS]
And then...
>>"Kvasir's," you state, resolute. "The present time is the best in which to pursue a fleeing foe." [DISCIPLINA]

>>3935431

Supporting this. While levity is good to lower the tension, if we don't contribute to the discussion, it could lower the others opnions of us

"The very first thing to do," you say with easy humour unoffended by being singled last, "would be to plant the wardstone back where it belongs."

Chuckled laughter amidst the gathered serve as lubricant to the moment's strain, cooling away the friction of adolescent competitiveness. Even sulksome Grimar smiles despite himself, melding seamlessly into the cathartic expression of communal mirth.

There is no inherent wit in your words save for the simple amusement of hearing the unexpected, the deft dodge of being saddled with the responsibility of choosing among the offered trio... and the way it is delivered. The voice, tightly modulated to add just the right amount of sarcasm; the slight gesture of hand that outlines the phallic form of the once-standing stone, sexual enough to elicit laughter from the juves present but not so as to offender the senior; laugh lines under the eyes eases the taciturn countenance to a friendly, open visage; and the piece de resistance, that sardonic grin which seems to suggest the barest hint of self-deprecating humility, wiping away any possible suggestion of impudence against the questioner.

Not that it pleases the man himself. Only Narfi retains a passive countenance while the other youths lose their wariness. He picked you last for a reason, Vakur. The rest of the boy-men are followers. Footmen. Unsuited to the task of making decisions for an entity greater than themselves. So the old man already discounts Karr and Stapi. The man has a good eye for the estimation of men. Did he do it out of dislike? Or could it be, he is wary of you?

If so, the man has an excellent eye. You continue before the man has any chance to lodge a reprimand. Your face tenses - your lips part slightly, displaying unnervingly white teeth amidst the growing dark. An animosity directed outward, against those beyond the boundary of this small in-group.

"Then we hunt."

>A silent prayer to Ullr from the lithely-built Kvasir - 'May the wolf find joy in the chasing.'
>Three d100

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3935700

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>3935700

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>3935700

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>3935700

>>3935818
>>3935737
>>3935727
now, that sequence is amusing

well, fuck we ded?

>>3936262
probably not immediatly but some of us might die yes

For what feels like a day and a half, the little patrol trundles through the night-greyed foliage. Shades in the form of man and other flicker hither and thither between the dignified forest-fathers in an endless waltz against the light of the torches, lit and carried against Kvasir's objections. "They'll make us easy targets."

"We already are," Narfi says gloomily. "The night is not the place for men." His torch splutters out a cough of smoke as if in agreement.

Barbaric superstitions and rural fairy-tales, but even the bawdiest of stories hold a kernel of core-truths. Mothers sing worksongs of the beady-eyed Alfar and their inhuman beauty... and cruelty. Of young men lured from their fathers' lands by glimpses of branch-dressed thighs and snow-pale breasts, and the unearthly songs that echo on forbidden dales when the moon is arise.

Superstitions and fairy-tales. You step forward to Kvasir in the lead, who examines close some imprint on the earth. "What do you see?" you say in hushed tones, and look up to see his face.

The son of the hunter has his face scrounched up his face in concentration, delicate nostrils flaring, tasting what ambient scent he might feel in the cold air of the early spring, and for an instant you see not a human being but an alerted doe, her marble eyes wide open in search of the source of the danger she senses. Her ears twitch from an inaudible sound. How majestic, the beasts of the forests, their entire being suffused with designs of nature to the sole goal of survival.

They lay with all manner of beasts.

The irrationality of the foreigners. Surely it has not begun to infect you as well, Caesar.

"Hooves," he replies, and the doe fades away. "Not goats. These are too heavy." He gently traces the gentle indention barely noticeable amidst the forest floor strewn with dead branches and frozen grasses. "Horses passed here. With riders."

"We would have noticed something so large moving through the trails."

"They were very careful. Removed traces of the dung and urine from the horses even as they were constantly on the move."

Ah. "Veterans."

Kvasir agrees. "And they know they're being followed."

There is some good news within the bad. Horses are prized possessions in the north, here where grazing grounds are not plentiful enough to foal them in many numbers. Adult horses, on the other hand, are sturdy creatures, capable of enduring the harshest northern winter right beside the Nordmenn - proof of their ancestry stretching to the herds of the Asiatic horse lords. "How many?"

"Five, give or take two."

Five horsemen, careful and cautious enough to dig away every dung and piss from their mounts on the move. And you here with but four green drengir and a single veteran-warrior.

>The wolf indeed finds joy in the chase, but are you the wolf, Vakur?
>Three D100
>Kvasir: Heightened Senses: One D100

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>3936393

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>3936393

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>3936393

we need one more rigth?

>>3936393

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>3936393

>2 Success
>Kvasir: Grievous Failure

One-Eyed One, your senses remain true in this dominion of disorientation. Your sharp ears cut through the subdued warbles of nightsingers and the incessant rustling of things that perform nocturnal hunts to divine the source of your inner disquiet. Wooden tools scraping against tinkling tin, a crackle-pop from some nearby subdued fireplace. At last they are found. Now the bloody job remains.

Vagn is one to suggest immediate attack with simple, brutish hand-symbols that need little elaboration, so eager is he to establish some control in this operation. His past suggestion was rebuffed, and his capacity as a leader is in question, so he is unwilling to allow you to have the last word this time. It is not possible to let loose your oratorial skills here, not when you are so close to the enemy, and the extended march has made others sullen toward your assumed leadership. Ach, these undisciplined Nordmenn - a legionary would have made the same trip in double-speed while fully laden with their metal armour and travel pack.

Narfi stays mute, as you have come to expect from him.

>You know when to go along with the majority. Nodding, you take position around the clearing where the still-unseen men are consuming their late-night meal.
>With hissed invectives and violent motions you contest Vagn's assumption of leadership.
>Custom

>>3937904

>You know when to go along with the majority. Nodding, you take position around the clearing where the still-unseen men are consuming their late-night meal.

Signal, ALLOWING him to proceed kek

>>3937904
>You know when to go along with the majority. Nodding, you take position around the clearing where the still-unseen men are consuming their late-night meal.
These guys shouldn't be too hard to kill after we did Imi... right?

>>3937904
>>You know when to go along with the majority. Nodding, you take position around the clearing where the still-unseen men are consuming their late-night meal.

>>3937904
>You know when to go along with the majority. Nodding, you take position around the clearing where the still-unseen men are consuming their late-night meal.

Man is no man, but a wolf, to a stranger. How true these words are, despite their utterance by a southron so far removed from true clannish violence. The drengir-warriors stoop near to the ground in mimicry of prowling wolves, making sure to keep their human profiles unseen against the plantlife backdrop. Barbarian muscles flex silently as sinews work in concert, tensing from the commandments of the thinking brain, prepared for the violence to be meted out by their strength.

Vagn truly is a majestic specimen in that regard. A Nordmann, through and through, perhaps simple in the head, but powerfully equipped in the flesh. Those thickset arms have been strained and reborn through strenuous farm-work that revitalised stubborn earth to make ready for seedlings. Not even the rich have the luxury of becoming soft and flabbed in their guts here. The extra nutrients have made him a bullish beast of considerable vitality.

Warrior without eye, does it rankle you to be led, than to lead? Will you allow him to take the initiative, the glorious first in battle?

>Jump them in the manner of your blood-ancestors. Shrill war-cries and whirling axes are the last things they will hear and see before the endless dark claims them all. To unleash the power divine in a gross display of superiority - that Vagn will know his place!
You live among savages. Is it not time to adopt their customs?

>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.
A soldier waits.

>Custom

>>3938196

>Jump them in the manner of your blood-ancestors. Shrill war-cries and whirling axes are the last things they will hear and see before the endless dark claims them all. To unleash the power divine in a gross display of superiority - that Vagn will know his place!

Time to earn our place here, the time for pussy southerner roman antics died with us at the blades of the very romans that killed us in betrayal

>>3938196
>>Jump them in the manner of your blood-ancestors. Shrill war-cries and whirling axes are the last things they will hear and see before the endless dark claims them all. To unleash the power divine in a gross display of superiority - that Vagn will know his place!

>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.

>>3938196

>Jump them in the manner of your blood-ancestors. Shrill war-cries and whirling axes are the last things they will hear and see before the endless dark claims them all. To unleash the power divine in a gross display of superiority - that Vagn will know his place!

This will probably hurt but maybe we can get some worthy head

>>3938196
>>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.

Better to stay a bit Roman

>>3938196
>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.
Guys, taking command like this is how the whole Finngeir fiasco started and how we lost our eye. I really don't wanna another fight to the dead because a dumbass think we dishonored him. Let him have this moment, our own time will come.

>>3938648
support

>>3938196
>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.
>A soldier waits.

>>3938196
>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.
>A soldier waits.

>>3938196
>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.

>>3938196
>>Jump them in the manner of your blood-ancestors. Shrill war-cries and whirling axes are the last things they will hear and see before the endless dark claims them all. To unleash the power divine in a gross display of superiority - that Vagn will know his place!

I'm dying of the cold. Well, not literally. But I just woke up, and it's dark, and cold-but-sweaty-and-disgusting-and-thirsty kind of mood, and now have to take my meds and then go back to sleep (Jupiter willing). I am sorry for being a slow QM, anons. It warms my QM-cursed heart to see so many people taking part day after day in this quest of ours. God, and I had a whole thing planned in my head for this thread. While waiting, go give ForgottenQM's knight quest a read. His Black Company Quest is really the reason I got the push to start making quests on my own, though my silly writing pales next to his.

G'night. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.

Also I'm locking the vote now so we don't have a tie when I can start thinking well enough to write again. Looks like Soldiers won. This time.

>>3939843
Feel better Fortuna!

>>3939843
I hope you get well soon Fortuna

>But Caesar who knew the value of restraint did not act out beyond his temporarily-assumed station, which is to say, that of the follower. It is the barbarian that rushes headlong into battle without thought nor scheme, driven only by the added numeration of his bloody headcount.

Flightsome wishes of the Ego does not command you. It is not the right time for you to take the stage as a nascent god of war. After all, do you not deserve a grander stage than this - a gaggle of newly-men who barely count as your competitors?

With unspoken commands via head-nods and eye movements, the drengir-warrior are placed round the clearing, preparing for the pounce from Vagn that will signal the beginning of the fight. The landlord's son has taken the prestigious post of leadership. Accordingly, it is he who must enter first. A Nordmann wisdom: "Let no leader order an act that he himself would not commit." Honest and primitive, like the rest of their kind.

That is why they are weak. That is why they will continue to remain weak. Such trappings force the enclosing of a society. It limits their growth, preventing the coalescing of a state whose leader holds authority beyond that of his immediate kin-tribe. Where civilised nations of the south flourish in their millions-strong empires, the Nordmenn will continue to exist as tiny, warring tribes, blissfully ignorant of the march of history.

This is the task laid before you, Caesar. The consolidation of the Nordic peoples. Succeed, and you will have a long-suffering people at your beck and call. A warrior-people. A martial people. Untainted by Greek wine and Parthian silk. And they shall become Terror incarnate to the soft and pampered nations of the south.

Fail, and you will fade away from the march of history. And to a man like you, ignominity is a fate worse than damnation itself.

Vagn roars wordlessly as he plunges his spear into his chosen target, and the others follow suit. You thoughtfully fill the gaps left by their wanton charge, taking whoever is not occupied by the others.

Vakur, Caesar Reborn
>Combat = +102DC [Battered +0, Cripple [Side-Wound] -10DC, Watchful +5DC, Unnatural Strength +20DC, Godsoul +20DC, Nordmann +10DC, Legionary Elite +10DC, Inimitable Experience +25DC, One-Eyed -10DC/+20MDC, Common Spear +10DC, Common Helm +0DC, Raider Mailshirt +12DC, Roundshield +10DC [2]]
>Armour Value = +25DC [Raider Mailshirt +15AV, Roundshield +10AV, Common Helm +10AV]

VS

The Rider
>Combat = +77DC [Healthy +5DC, Exhaustion [2] -5DC, Nordmann +10DC, Hirdmann +10DC, Veteran-Warrior +5DC, Fine Spear +12DC, Iron Spangenhelm +10DC, Iron Mail-shirt +20DC, Roundshield +10DC [3]]
>Armour Value = +45DC [ron Mail-shirt +20AV, Roundshield +10AV, Iron Spangenhelm +15AV]

Personal Combat DC75
>Three rolls of 100

>>3940219
>>3940918
Good enough to write!

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>3941172

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>3941172

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>3941172
It's time.

>>3941172
Yaya your back
Is one of those bonuses our future site or do we only call ipon it on specific times?

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>3941753
The latter

Rolling for AV

>2 Success

Here is a hirdmann, high in the estimation of his lord. The gold torc and silver bracelets tell clear his numerous honours and many triumphs, gained from a life well lived (according to Northish standards) and the muscle-fat hints at a wife back home to keep him hale. His armour is kept neat, his shield's sigil - a hawk - maintained. A shortsword rests against his leg, still in its sheath, a testament to the iron-wealth of the unknown warrior.

Here is a hirdmann of rank and renown. And he dies soiling his leggings.

Vakur Imi-Slayer, your spear is an extension of your prodigious strength. Crude iron tip bores through chains interlinked, breaks flesh, chips bones, bursts bags of internal machineries that keep the human body ticking. A warm smell rises from his guts - the septic stench of death, wherein is mingled fluids from each and every organ. Sliced stomach and intestines pour their content out to the disgusted earth. He does not die prettily.

"That seems to have been the leader," Vagn says beside you, having finished his kill by virtue of being the first to attack. His fogged breath tickles unpleasantly against your cheek. "I claim the torc."

>Your reply is the fist. [VIRTVS]

>You shrug. "By all means, take the bauble. What interests me is the shortsword." It was to your consternation that you found the gladii from the Roman dead all claimed and parcelled out to those senior to you, which is all of them. To find a Roman sword from a northling dead - what luck! [FRVGALITAS]

>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

>>3942127
>You shrug. "By all means, take the bauble. What interests me is the shortsword." It was to your consternation that you found the gladii from the Roman dead all claimed and parcelled out to those senior to you, which is all of them. To find a Roman sword from a northling dead - what luck! [FRVGALITAS]

>>3942127
>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

yeah, we can't afford to be subjugated right now i think
he is testing us to see if we take up the ass like a good boy

>>3942127
>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]
Vagn is getting greedy. He can loot his own kill.

>>3942127
>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

>>3942127
>>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

>>3942127
>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]
Respect is worth more than a sword.

>>3942127
>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

Very much this, it is a test.

>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

>"Take your share of the spoils from your own carrion, crow," you growl. You may not get the shortsword after taking such a valuable object, but for you it is not about the useless trinket, but the sign of weakness submission portends. Quiet submission can solidify perception of hierarchies. [DIGNITAS]

Brutish words unsuitable for the lips of one such as Caesar, but fitting in Vakur's. They are more honest here than the honeyed Greeks in admitting the basis of legitimacy for any claim. Violence, Caesar. The primordial language of Man. No amount of sophistication in jurisprudence can override the ugly truth. One must stake his claim loudly, lest vultures find a hint of weakness, a chink in the armour.

You pry open the golden torc from the neck of the dead retainer and fasten it on your own neck, daring Vagn to protest - if not words, then with his body.

"Stand down, Vagn," Narfi speaks. "You've a greed to match your father, and more. That Vakur's kill, and his to loot."

"But I was the leader!" Vagn whines. "I was the first to charge!"

"And had the first pick of opponent," the older warrior says dispassionately. "You had a chance to fight Vakur's opponent first, but you didn't. You get what you fight for. Or are you saying that you are willing to fight him for it?" He smirks. "You've heard how Vakur fought that night. One against a hundred. Like a berserkr."

Berserker. The word tastes foreign to your tongue. They are the suicides and martyrs among Nordmenn, drinking foul concoctions to fall into an unearthly martial stupor. Once enraged, they are said to fight with the endurance of the mountains themselves, hindered by neither arrows nor swords, like an aged boar patriarch in full bestial frenzy. That was not a reputation you realised you'd gained behind your back.

Vagn wavers, then breaks altogether. "Fine," he snorts. "I don't need it, anyway. My father has many more torcs more elaborate than that. Vakur's going to need it - no girl is going to look at him with his eye gouged out like that."

The pettiness could make you sigh if it didn't mean provoking Vagn once again. This is the poison of a society made egalitarian by necessity. There is no rigid hierarchy here, nothing that resembles societal order. Just a simple interrelationship of dominance. The strong rule, the weak perish. It seems an elegant system, but with the disparity of strength so minute and unclear between the men, it devolves into a constant demonstration of prowess. Convenient in its function as an outlet for masculine aggression, but unhelpful in large-scale organisation.

>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

>But conflict means competition, a constant struggle among the would-be-jarls that produces only the most cunning - or the most brutal. So be it, then. You will play on their terms. Life-times of insubordination awaits you, you who would be King among lords-elector. And they will not find you wanting. Not you. [The Nordmann]

>>3943458
>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

>>3943458
>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

>>3943458

>But conflict means competition, a constant struggle among the would-be-jarls that produces only the most cunning - or the most brutal. So be it, then. You will play on their terms. Life-times of insubordination awaits you, you who would be King among lords-elector. And they will not find you wanting. Not you. [The Nordmann]

We did the other once and were stabbed in the back, this time if anyone defies us it will be from the front, and if they win they will deserve it.
Ceasar died long ago, now Vakur was born, we can use our past life experience but it would be a waste to try to recriate it instead of building something new.

>>3943458
>But conflict means competition, a constant struggle among the would-be-jarls that produces only the most cunning - or the most brutal. So be it, then. You will play on their terms. Life-times of insubordination awaits you, you who would be King among lords-elector. And they will not find you wanting. Not you. [The Nordmann]

man what a shit vote, I was hoping to combine the two.

>>3943457
>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

Not even a contest.

>>3943476
That's exactly what I was thinking, I don't think they're mutually exclusive. I think you can have a meritocracy autocracy under a strong central government ruled by an emperor like Ceaser or now Vakur

>>3943476
>man what a shit vote, I was hoping to combine the two.
I'm not sure Vakur can pull an Alexandros, really.
...Can he, Fortuna?

>>3943458
>>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

>>3943489
>>3943485
>>3943476

>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

>>3943497
Well, then.
>>3943458
Switching from >>3943469 to
>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

>>3943497
>>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

changing to this

(Any other suggestions? So far we have

[The Roman] - Caesar the Dictator-era
[The Nordmann] - Primitive kingship with powerful ducal nobles that rival central authority
[The Republican] - Augustan Principate

For clarification: Caesar was a lot less subtle about being "imperial" so to speak, unlike Augustus, who took great pains to uphold the visual appearance of the continued sovereignty of the Senate, which is why I'm using Caesar's Dictatorship here instead of later Imperial era)

>>3943497
Switching from this>>3943463
to this
>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

should say "just as in the times of the ancients of the gens Iulia."

>>3943497
Changing from >>3943471
to

>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

>>3943501
What about a Totalitarian democracy with some Meritocracy and Timocracy mixed in?

>>3943509
>Timocracy
If I understand the definition of this correctly from Wikipedia, this is already built-in in most ancient societies. You need to be someone who has land to have a say in the Thing, and you need to be of senatorial rank (which has a certain wealth requirement, not just pedigree) in Rome. But could you elaborate on this mixture of cracies of yours?

>>3943512
I was more thinking of this "a government ruled by people who love honour and are selected according to the degree of honour they hold in society" I didn't really think about the aspect of honour coming from owning land and thought about it more from a moral sense. People who do honorable things and live honorable lives. I see the government working like this. People who are legal citizens can vote so long as they pass a test either written or a verbal one showing that they understand the policies and ideas of not only the current government but of the running candidates as well. Only people of good moral standing and who are seen as competent by the current government and senate can run for dictator or emperor. And any citizen who can vote can run to join the government or senate. The Senate would act with emperors will and implement his policies and laws. The emperor would rule till death or with enough senators voting him out of power with a solid reason like corruption, embezzlement or just mismanaging the empire. That's my basic idea of how the of a Totalitarian democracy mixed with Meritocracy and Timocracy would work in my head. Don't know if that makes sense or if it will work in the setting but that's basically my idea.

>>3943458
>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]
>>3943485
I don't think we are setting the future in stone. This is just the general idea of how things will go. I think the end result will be much more close to what you discribed

>>3943497

>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

>>3943458
>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

>>3943458
>>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

>>3943497
Changing from >>3943491
To this

>But why lean too strongly one way or the other? For all your vaunted demigod powers, you are only one being. Inhuman strength and a tenuous grasp in the Immaterial grants you an edge over the average mortal, but if there is anything that your own existence proves, there exist on occasion a man of such ambition and will that - born in such a time and place where they could maximise their abilities - they could climb the hallowed Mount Olympus itself. Let there be one supreme leader, aided by a conclave of the worthy, just as the ancients of the gens Iulia. [The Republican]

>>3943458
>>>And that is why such societies are doomed to fail, unable to evolve to the penultimate state of an empire. You will tame these men. Break their too-free spirits and put them to use according to your autocratic vision. And you will regain that vaunted title once more... Imperator. [The Roman]

>>3944553
>>3943721
>>3943529
>>3943506
>>3943502
>>3943500
>>3943499
>The Republican

Let Mother Rome suffer in silence the loss of her favoured Son for a while yet. There is a new republic to form here, far away from the faintest vestiges of true civilisation. Yes, a blank canvasse, where with enough brute force one can create as one wills. There is no detritus of past empires to which the natives can cling in memories of, no rallying ethnic cries that could bring revanchist regressivity in the minds of the populace.

But to do that, you will need force. Clan Einar is weak, and Haakon Einarsson less respected after the unexpected attack, though reason exonerates him of any blame. It is natural for human nature to find outlet of grief by finding and externalising convenient scapegoats, no matter how contrived or farcical. The jarl is beset on all sides. No raids have gone forth, lacking united leadership. Crops are rarely reliable and trade impossible with no new bounties gained from foreign shores. Factions are beginning to coalesce among the influential men within the tribe. Unpleasant rumours persist regarding your oddities, driven by envy of your exceptional abilities and achievements. The third ally of the Three Skanish tribes, Clan Veturlithi, has been less communicative since the night of Clan Einar's fall from grace. And the captured Ynglings - of whom nothing is known - have proven resistant to questioning under the torturer's care, perishing after divulging the one thing they repeat - the emergence of a King of the north, and his grand army that will unite the scattered tribes by fire and sword. They laugh, blood-lipped, as they enter the pain-madness of men tortured to their deaths.

But all is not lost. An overabundance of armour and arms exist from the raid two years back - your first raid, and your last - from the century of Romans slain. Good iron from the continents, forged with Roman precision and skill. The dead from the unknown Ynglings who spoke in queer accents were stripped and hauled to storehouses, their gear nowhere near as uniform as the Romans', but loot nonetheless. And the alliance of the Three is not yet disbanded - Clan Eldir of jarl Iseldur remains a staunch ally despite the holmgang-duel between you and his bannerman Finngeir, as evinced by his monthly caravan sent to support the struggling Clan Einar, and it is Iseldur's clan now that is the most powerful among the three. Veturlithi's jarl Hunn is not like to disrupt the alliance. Not by himself. Not without outside help.

These thoughts and more crowd your busy mind in the sullen-silence that fills the return. When you lie down to sleep in your unwarmed bed, you dream of empty nothings.

Do not rest for too long, son of Haakon. There is work to be done.

[end of thread, see you in the next - I seriously hope my circadian rhythm shenanigans get sorted by then, sleep deprivation is a real bitch]

>>3944754
thanks for running

nice to see our actions toward the widow helped us get a more stable relationship with one of our allies