搜索结果: *

Yeah I'm still around as well, but last 2 weeks on the job were super busey. Also my girlfriend has been claiming my PC for some work purposes which left me keyboardless for many hours last week. Might have a post up later today/this weekend.

RightQuandary 说:

so I'm wondering if I can use some artistic licence.

点击展开...

If this means someone will finally post again, you may rewrite history for all I care.

Oof, how have the last 10 years been? Jeez... I graduated from high school in my own hometown, went to university in Brussels, ended up meeting lots of people, volunteering in multiple organizations, doing a lot of drinking and not doing a whole lot of studying. When I did work, I had good grades, I just more often than not did other stuff, so after 6 years I dropped out just 1 year short of getting a master's degree. That was painful. I currently work as a postman. The job is quite allright, pays average, but I do have to wake up between 3 am and 5 am depending on my shift. It's why my posting times probably seem weird. I am trying to figure out how I could still get my degree later on though. It's however, not easy. Despite the career setback, I did meet a beautiful girl/woman with whom I share a house outside a small village and we've been together for 4 years, so I've got that going for me.

It's weird reading your stories. Makes me feel like we're all old men now. I guess 10 years going from your late teens/ early twenties to your late twenties/ early thirties make quite a difference.

A_Mustang 说:

Brotherhood of the woods is basically a mercenary company in game terms, so it could be as easy as saying that either the Brotherhood affiliated themselves with another faction that Vlandia wasn't currently at war with or they disaffiliated themselves with the current conflict.

点击展开...

The wiki pretty much explains them as a Robin Hood attempt turned regular bandit.

I noticed when I looked up what they are exactly :p
I'm wrapping up the family feud story line which I considered a prologue for my character. I'll leave it inconclusive, and if this thing really takes off I might reintroduce Toric, Beric and Muirkin as characters in the future. I intend to let Loren meet his brother Egon at Flintolg castle, for whom I'll write a template as well. Then I'll find some excuse for them to get captured by the brotherhood and eventually they could be recruited into their ranks. If any more potential players are lurking. I think putting a number of brotherhood players against a number of mercenary players could really turn this into an epic narrative.

Did you say something about a brotherhood of the forest?

Loren strolled along the village pathways as the sun gradually lit up the roofs and trees. Most folks were still asleep, but some early awakeners were already strapping their boots for another day of hard labour. His pace was slow and hesitant, reluctant even. But his dad couldn’t have been clearer. Loren had to get his job back with Sein, or starve come winter. He approached the village healer’s house and was struck by silence. The kind that overwhelms the forests shortly before a storm. The stillness that is only interrupted by the howling of the wind, rustling leaves or startled critters. He noticed torch light coming from one of the windows. An incomprehensible murmuring of multiple voices. Loren slinked towards the house, one of the larger in the village, and leaned in to eavesdrop. “Is he… dead?” One of the voice asked, uncertainly. “It’s done .”The reply came from an older, rougher voice. “We did it brother. We’ve finally gotten rid of the old pig.” A third voice entered the conversation. The first voice turned towards the murderer again. “Won’t the healer expect something? Yesterday he said he was getting better.” The man grouched. “He would’ve, but I made sure he won’t say a thing after I placed my dirk against his wife’s throat.” The third voice shrugged. The rough one continued. “There is one more obstacle though. People will accuse the man who was with him for his death.” A moment of silence followed. “Tradition requires the deceased’s family to take revenge. It’ll have to be one of us then, it can’t be you, Muirkin. Who needs to die?” The first voice concluded. “A young fellow master Sein recently employed. Llum’s son.” Loren could hear the brothers walking towards each other. In the shadows cast by the burning torch that Muirkin was presumably holding, he could see the silhouettes of a man grabbing another by the shoulders. Not in an aggressive, but in a brotherly, caring way. “It should be you Beric. You’re the oldest son, you must revenge our father by cutting down that son of Llum.” Beric was shaken and stuttered: “I’m not sure if I can, Toric.” Toric’s silhouette opened its hand towards Muirkin who placed his sword in it. Toric then pressed it against Beric’s chest, urging him to hold onto it. “You can, big brother. Take some of our men and go drag him from his bed before he finds out his former employer died.”

Loren slowly stepped away from the window and sprinted home. He raced past the workers now steadily walking towards their daily workplaces, who barely caught the scent of Loren’s sweat as he disappeared in between the huts and shacks of Glintor. He shoved the door of his father’s house open, startling his sleeping family. “We have to go!” Loren panted. Llum raised his still tired eyebrows in disbelief. Loren straightened his back and started packing some food, a knife and a woven blanket in large bag. “Sein is dead. His sons are coming to take revenge as is tradition.” His dad and stepmom jumped up. Llum closed the front door and walked towards one of the few windows in his house. He slightly opened the shutter to have a peak. “It’s too late.”, he whispered. “They’re here. But they’ll want you, not me.” For a brief moment the family of three stood petrified, staring at each other, letting the reality sink in. They were immediately reanimated when five loud knocks made the door shiver. “Go out the back!”, Teruin cried. Loren ran as she held the door open for him. He glanced at his dad once more. Their eyes met for an instance. Behind him, the shutter was forcefully pulled open from the outside. “He’s escaping!” A large man brutally kicked the front door in. Loren turned to run and Teruin quickly pushed the bag with essentials in his hands. Loren ran over his dad’s wheat field towards the treeline, as fast as his legs could carry him, without even looking back once at his home. He had left once before, but now his chances of ever returning were slim. He could hear footsteps behind him. He could hear the weaponry of his pursuers clap against their leather trousers as they ran after him. They were strong and many, but Loren was in good shape and carried less weight. He had already been running for what seemed multiple minutes before he even dared to stop, catch some breath and look behind him. He could still see the armed men advancing through the trees and it would only be a matter of time before they could catch up with him. Loren was tired of running, but continued anyway at a slower pace. He was thinking of ways to escape. He could climb a tree and hide, or bury himself with dirt and moss. No matter what he came up with, the risk of being found, he felt, was too great. So he just kept on running. The footsteps behind him returned and kept getting louder. “There he is!”, one of them shouted. A throwing axe buzzed past his head and planted itself deep inside a tree. “This is the end”, Loren thought to himself. Gathering his last strength and willpower he thrusted his body forwards to slightly increase the gap between himself and his pursuers before finally giving up. He stopped, grabbed the knife from his bag and prepared to fight. That’s when he heard it.

*neigh*

Loren stooped down and gazed through the forest. And then he saw it. Grazing between ferns and bushes stood a large, dark brown horse. A Battanian thoroughbred. A beautiful steed, still saddled, barely 30 feet away. “Sein’s horse!”, Loren excitedly uttered. “I’ve got him!”, the reply equally came from some 30 feet behind him. Loren jumped up and ran towards the horse. It scared for a moment, but then looked Loren right in the eyes and remained still. Almost as if it wanted him to jump in the saddle. Loren grabbed the reigns. He flung his leg over the saddle and placed himself on the blood-stained leather saddle that had been Sein’s last throne. Without even having to probe it, the horse leaped forward, past Loren’s would-be abductors and disappeared into the forest.

Kalnia 说:

Snip

点击展开...

I got a hunch that we're all going to 'forge' a mercenary company in this one, aren't we?

RightQuandary 说:

There are current maps available here, if it's still needed https://forums.taleworlds.com/index.php?threads/?-map-of-calradia-1084-update-09-04-20.385748/

点击展开...

That is exactly what we need, thanks!

Come on Ulf, approve this guy so he can post!

At one hand I'm annoyed by how slow we're moving already. But then I have to recall that I was a teenager 10 years ago, bored at school and with too much time on my hands. Now I have a full-time job and a girlfriend with whom I share a house. The lot of you are probably on the same boat. Oh precious youth...

Loren tried to carry Sein back to the village, but he was heavy. Every step hit him like an arrow in the gut and he couldn’t stand in any way. He carried him on his shoulder, than the other one. Than he pulled the wounded body behind him like a sleigh through the mud. Then the shoulder again. All the while a messy stick remained firmly inside Sein’s stomach. Removing it might’ve caused him to bleed out. Finally, after what felt like ages of floundering through the forest, even though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour, the first houses started to appear. Voices penetrated Loren’s ear. He gathered his final strength and uttered: “Help! Someone help!”.
People from all around the village rushed to their aid. Loren felt his arms being relieved as two men took over the load. He fell. All the muscles in his body just gave up. He felt his head falling into someone’s hands. Another pushed a jug against his face and he felt water entering his throat and running over his cheeks.

---

Loren awoke. He fumbled around and felt the straw bed under him. The smell of vegetable soup filled his head. He was at home. Dad’s home. He got up slowly. His arms and shoulders ached. It was dark out. The room was lit by some wax sticks and by the fireplace in the middle, where his stepmom, Teruin, was cooking. She had never been able to replace his real mom. But that’s mostly sentimental. The truth is that she had tried the best she could to take care of her adopted sons. Egon always claimed to feel just like Loren about it, but he was much younger when it all happened. Loren never knew whether he meant it, or just wanted to impress his brother. His dad was sitting at the table, trying to reattach a rusty sickle to its handle after it had come loose. It didn’t use to be like that. Once they were wealthier and then he would’ve just asked one of the merchants to bring a new one if they went to town. But times had changed. Loren groaned as he took some steps away from the bed. His father turned towards him. “Look who’s up.” Loren went to sit at the other side of the table as Teruin served him some soup. He tried stirring it with a wooden spoon, but his hands kept shaking, spilling some on the table. It resulted in him grabbing the bowl with both hands and slurping the mushy substance like that. It tasted a little salty. Wasting wax sticks to light the table and salt to spice up the food… they were pampering him. His father kept staring at him in anticipation. “Where’s Sein?”, Loren asked. His dad sighed. “You roughened up your boss quite bad.” Loren dropped the bowl. “It was an accident. The horse, it panicked…” His father interrupted: “That doesn’t matter. He’s at the healers’ house. They don’t know whether he will live or… pass on. That’s for the gods to decide now. “Loren let the words linger for a while. Then he went back to eating the soup. His dad sighed once more, from deeper within this time, or so it seemed. “Here’s the truth. If you’re not working again before the end of summer. All of us, the people in this house, might starve come winter.” And so the cat was out of the bag. Loren glanced at the bowl before him and then at the soup he had spilled on the table. “I could ask some of the farmers or craftsman if they could use a helping hand.” Llum shaked his head. Another sigh. “No. You’re going to finish your soup. You’re going back to bed. You’ll rest. At first light you’re going to find Sein to see if he’s awake. And you’re getting your job back. You will beg if you have to.”

Kalnia 说:

Snip

点击展开...

Don't get us hyped, just post!

Úlfheðinn 说:

... where Captain Doro heads to the jail after convincing the mayor (can't remember what title the non-noble head of the town is) or whoever is logically in charge of the jail permission to recruit some criminals for his merry band.

点击展开...

In previous titles this would've been a town seneschal, but I haven't encountered one in Bannerlord (but I haven't played that much yet either). I guess some guild masters, land owners or merchants could have enough influence to get things done. A more historical approach away from the game could be to direct yourself to the members of the town's tribunal. Most towns in medieval times had more independence than the countryside and often had a tribunal or judicial system of some sort to deal with matters. On the countryside you had travelling judges enforcing the king's law.

Here it is! Mind that the first few pages may be confusing as one player ragequit and removed his posts. SAD!

I love that post, I love how our characters are starting at the bottom rather than at the top. In the previous one I started out as a wealthy and aging nobleman. Anyways when two characters meet we usually keep our posts much shorter, giving the the other player a chance to play along. It's perfectly fine to take control of someone's character for just a few words or so. If it's more intense you can always ask, discuss or collaborate. I once gave Yulgar permission to give my character a good beating because he was saying some racist stuff. :p

This is a real good trip down nostalgia lane by the way and I hope more people join soon.

---

*thud*

“You’ve got nothing left to give?” Sein asked, while spitting in the man’s bloody face. One of Sein’s knuckleheads pushed the poor farmer to the ground and hit him in the face a second time. “So what are you going to tell Chief Fenagan if he comes collecting taxes? You think he would hesitate one instant to cut your head open?”. The man buried his face into the dirt, ashamed and afraid. “I’m sorry!”, he muttered beneath his tears.

Sein had recently bought a parcel of open land near the village for a very agreeable price from fen Penraic. The young chieftain, Luichan is progressive, and believes a good merchant might put the grounds to better use. The man lying at Sein’s feet was already using the clearing as an area for farming wheats as his family had been doing for years, providing for the village and the fen. When Sein found out, he seized the site immediately and went to rough up the farmer in order to give him whatever the earth had produced there already. It’s one of those moments where Loren would’ve wanted them to stop. Where he would’ve wanted to be heroic and jump in front of his innocent peer, but this was not his place, not his right. There was no realistic thing he could do to prevent what was going to happen next. And Loren knew exactly what that was. Once Sein had gained access to the stored goods, he would claim them all as his own, leaving the farmer penniless and unable to pay the taxes. The Penraic chieftains would’ve gained an acceptable reason to sell him as a galley slave to the Sturgians. Sein would now take his chance to kind-heartedly loan him whatever the landlord would tax. In return, he could now farm the land that his family had been farming for generations, but of course, for Sein’s profit only. And all that Loren could do was stand by and watch it all happen.

Sein dragged Loren along on the way home. His two dogs, mindless muscle bags obeying every order, remained at the farmer’s house, to make sure he wouldn’t run off in the night. Loren was leading Sein’s steed, a handsome Battanian thouroughbred, by the reigns through the forest, as he always does. Sein enjoyed being served. He was pompously and comfortably sitting in the saddle. Looking around like a musician trying to find the crowd. Making sure everyone sees how this fat and always hungry beast just filled its belly and can now return to its lair, satisfied, seemingly unaware that there are only birds and squirrels to watch him for the next half mile or so. Loren enjoyed the forest. He preferred spring over the summer heat, but under the cover of the dense spruce trees the air was cool and fresh. The smell of pinecones and the deafening stillness of the wood calmed his mind. All until the smell of Sein’s greasy shoes, dripping with fat from the boar they ate that afternoon, filled his nostrils, followed by a disturbing slurping noise as Sein placed a flask of mead on his lips. “You’re disgusted by me Loren. You’d pretend it’s not so, but I can see it in your eyes.” “Master, what makes you think that I…” Loren replied innocently, but realised it made no sense to lie when Sein could see right through him. “I just keep hoping the gods won’t punish me for standing by your actions. But it is not my place to say.” Sein grabbed Loren by the shoulder, forcing him to look. “Damn right it’s not! I don’t give a rat’s arse about your long face here on the trail, but once we enter the village, once we’re near people, I can’t have my men visibly doubting my actions.” A drop of mead crawled down his red, untrimmed beard and fell onto Loren’s arm, leaving a stain. At this moment Loren should’ve firmly grabbed the reigns, turned his face forward and marched on. And most of all, he should’ve shut his tongue, but by some inner force he could not control the words that rolled out of his mouth. “Like they don’t know we’re just working for you because you have us all by the balls.” Sein, who had already concluded the conversation in his head and was taking another sip, spit out his mead all over the horse’s fine manes and face, slightly startling it. “What?! I’ll make you resent speaking out to me pig!” He grabbed a sheathed dagger that was attached to the saddle and prepared to hit Loren to the head with the pummel. Loren however, dodged and the pummel slammed into the steed’s neck. The Battanian thoroughbred neighed and reared up forcefully, pulling his reigns from Loren’s hands. It jumped, kicked and rolled over, removing its rider by smashing him against the forest floor, hard, before fleeing into the trees. Loren regained self-control and rushed towards the stranded body of his master. “Master!” he yelled. He observed Sein’s face turning pale. A stream of blood now ran down his beard and followed the same path where earlier a drop of mead had made its way towards Loren’s arm. As Loren looked down he saw a large, sharp branch, red with blood, sticking out of the beasts’ full belly. A gargling sound came from its throat. Loren grabbed Sein by the hair on the back of his head and raised him up. He coughed and a blood clot was catapulted onto Loren’s chest. “Help me, you fool!”.

Wow! I used the actual Bannerlord map for my character background and have now just realized Ulf's map probably dates way back to a development update. There's places there that aren't in the game now and some locations, like Hongard and Sargot are in very different places. Okay I would suggest we make use of Bannerlord's CURRENT map in-game as it is far more detailed and well... interactive.

Vovolov 说:

How is this?

点击展开...

Nice character addition! Look forward to adventuring with ya. You probably meant Hongard and Hongard castle though.

Vovolov 说:

Nice. I like the old Battanian idea; has Loren learnt it through his studies or is it something that commoners would learn from their elders, maybe using a saying or word to describe specific things here and there, or for use in rituals? I think perhaps Owain would know some of it, too.

点击展开...

While we used to have invented languages in the previous RP as well, like Old Norse and Rhodokian dialects. Old Battanian is actually established as an actual language in the game proper. The village description of Cantrec contains "Cantrec is one of the southernmost districts of Calradia that still speaks the old Battanian tongue". I read this in-game a few days ago and I immediatly imagined it would be a fun thing to play with in the eventual RP.

Ha! I was already working on something similar. I hope to post like twice a week. Incoming character.

YES!!! You beat me to it, Therian! THIS IS IT! Will have to play through the campaign some though, to get a feeling of the atmosphere and lore.

Multiplayer: Class System - part 1?