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Robert Perrault, II, Duke of Vitoria His grandfather Bernard had three children, Robert, Sophie, and Camille. Being the first child, and male, of his family, Robert, I, went on great expeditions and acquired a great amount of wealth. His sister Sophie died in childbirth, but his youngest sister Camille had a child, Emile, who now is married to Elise and runs a successful alcohol business. Robert, I, after one expedition led to him needing to amputate a leg, retired from the life of the sea and turned his sights on moving up in the world. Robert, I became the leader of a trading company, getting friends in high circles. Unfortunately, Robert I died before he reached his dream of being granted a duchy. His only child Robert Perrault, II completed that goal. He continued his trading through the homeland of Oleon, expanding it as he could. But his true test of valor came on the field of battle, by wiping out a small uprising with only himself, a maid, and the gods he prayed too. It was the two (or three, depending on the stories if you believe in the gods) of them against ten. Here, you can see Robert, II, in his library, just before he gets his duchy granted. The build
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Lavalette, the young postman woke at the early hours as usual, when other inhabitants of the city were still sleeping. He took a simple meal composed of plain bread and coffee, put his uniform on and shut the door behind him. But today, he looked in a hurry, because in his parcel there was an urgent letter to the RNTC office, stating that a sistership is ready to sail to replace the Licorne they lost a few months ago. This post is intended to sistership the Licorne of RNTC.
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One may remember that Oleon has sent a squad of legionnaires to attend the P.A.Cup, they've proven their sailing skills in the race and our green ninja, green legionnaire, blue legionnaire! got a well deserved rest, now it's time to train one's combat skill again. The Legionnaires usually wear the same uniform as other soldiers but they have certain liberty in the choice of weapons. This is to license a company of legionnaires (light infantry) in Eltina. Vive le Roi!
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La Phénix, belonging to Tristan Rimbaud since its very arrival in the archipelago, is a fast and versatile ship that played a role in some of the most relevant happenings of the last years: Tristan used it to move to different islands, to send emissaries or dispatches and to reach important social events, but also to bring a new platoon of soldiers to Astrapi, to reach Fatu Hiva and to support his secret campaign in Charlatan Bay. It is not a very elegant ship, but it's robust and has a capacious hold, useful both to host soldiers or to load goods. Armed with ten 12lbs cannons, Le Phénix can also face enemies at sea, even if it gives its best as a support ship. The ship owes its name to the wooden figurehead, depicting the mythical phoenix, phénix in Oleander. The glorious Oleander flag waves on the stern, near to the ship bell. Every man on board, from the captain to the last of the sailors, would give his life rather than furl the flag in surrender. The Captain, Tristan Rimbaud: recently appointed Count of Astrapi, re-integrated in the army with the rank of Major, he is quite an unusual officer. Not so concerned about uniforms or strict discipline, he refuses most of the privileges of the rank, such as the better food. He has personally chosen all the crew members, and his men would follow him blindfolded to Hades' Reign. "Captain on deck!" Captain Rimbaud is not so concerned about being saluted, but La Royale has it's conventions. The navigator defines the best route, while a sailor calculates latitude and longitude with sextant and chronometer. When your ship completely depends on sails, a storm or a long period of dead calm could kill the whole crew. The so-called "stormglass" could be used to forecast storms, rain, fog or good weather, with an accuracy of about 3/4. The mechanism of functioning is unknown, but a long list of captains that trusted flakes or "clouds" in the liquid and survived to the worst storm seasons is a very strong argument for the stormglass. "Keep the deck clean, make it shine!". This is not only aesthetics, this is a paramount: a dirty deck becomes slippery, and you don't want a slippery deck during a storm or a battle. Below the deck a sailor takes rest, eating a part of his daily rations. Most sailors don't like sauerkrauts a lot but, after this food was introduced by doctor Marcel Laurent, nobody has developed scurvy. A sailor peeling potatoes, during one of the daily corves. Kitchen is a simple brick structure, with fire lit in a sandbox, as far as possible from the ammunition store. The pot is suspended to prevent dangerous spills of boiling water: a capsized pot could cause horrible wounds to the cook. Doctor Laurent medicates the survivor of a shipwreck, while Master Sergeant Dubois, the officer commanding the embarked soldiers, listens his story: an Eslandolan trade ship was sank by a storm in Eastern Prio Sea, with no other survivors. The surgeon's chest, containing medicines and tools that every sailor prays never to see in his hands. The ship kitchen The cook and some sailors in fatigue uniform. Soldiers and sailors in battle uniform. Captain and officers. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I built this ship even before entering BoBS, but for some reason I never published it… I continuously changed details and minifigs, waiting for the right occasion. I'm quite satisfied by the result, even if sails and masts are quite rudimentary and helm wheel is in a weird position… probably I could do something about that, but since it is my very first "creature" I prefer to let it in this way.
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28 September 619, Infero Pordejon, Fort San Millar The black flag of the rebels was still waving in the wind, but it was not going to last: the tides had turned. The tides had turned. After a long shelling with the few cannons available, the strong walls of Fort San Millar were finally breached, and the final assault began. The fort, once the pride of the Ashen Guard, had been occupied since the first days of disorders by a cruel group of smugglers: they made huge profits closing the port and profiting on the provisions, even if this caused a terrible famine and made violence explode in the streets. But finally the tides had turned, and the fort represented the last stronghold of the rebel pirates. By sure, the fort was intimidating, with 32 pounders towards the bay, sturdy walls and two of the sides right above vertical cliffs. However, as Tristan had realised studying the maps, the fort had not been projected to withstand a strong assault by land: some of the walls were too low and too exposed to artillery. He doubted that it was an error in the project: since a land attack could start only from Charlatan Bay itself, more probably, the Dark Bishop didn't want to transform the fort in an impregnable fortress for a rebel garrison… whatever the cause, Tristan was more than grateful for that. In that moment, Tristan heard the first musket salvos and the screams of the wounded men. It was time to move. He incited his men, an heterogeneous group of Oleander volunteers and local militiamen, and jumped on his boat. The battle plan was simple but, hopefully, effective: a frontal assault against the lowest wall, followed by a flanking attack from the cliffs, with boats and grappling hooks, to neutralize the cannons before they could be turned towards the parade ground. The hooks were thrown towards the parapet. There was no more time to think now: thirty minutes of fire and blood and everything would have been over, in a way or in the other. Tristan unsheathed the sword and shouted a war cry, followed by his men. That day, if Ares was with them, they would have seen the end of battle for Charlatan Bay. The battle for the external walls: To the breach! A barrel of gunpowder thrown by the defenders: In the parade ground: Counterattack of the defenders: A cannon and ammunitions: A bird's eye view: --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fort San Millar was finally assaulted. This is probably my last build for this storyline, but the future of Charlatan Bay is still uncertain, and peace will be frail for a long time, so... who knows? Probably Tristan will leave for the North, the Great Alliance States, the ice and the steppes, for the desert of New Oleon, the woods of Varcoast or the Southern Seas. I hope you enjoyed my builds in this storyline, and the story itself. I did. Again, I have to thank @Kwatchi and @Gulagurag, even if probably they won't read this, for the great storyline of the Dark Bishop and Charlatan Bay. In many cases, my builds retrace theirs (Fort San Millar itself, for example), or things they wrote about the settlement.
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August 619, Infero Pordejon, a plantation house in Charlatan Bay outskirts "I think we have reached an agreement. Now my soldiers are at your orders, Sir. Let's write down the conditions." Said Ezekiel Keegan, dipping the pen in the ink. "I'm glad that you find our conditions reasonable. With your collaboration, I'm sure that this useless civil war will see its end." Replied Tristan Rimbaud. Despite his mildly satisfied expression and his measured words (diplomacy has is code, even when the negotiation is over), he felt incredibly relieved: these words, probably, represented the end of the battle for Lowtown. Just in time, considering that the involvement of Oleander forces had finally become public, and the risk to get unwanted attention from other empires or, even worse, to be considered a traitor from Oleander police secrète, was becoming higher and higher every day. Ezekiel Keegan… a rich plantation owner, who, at the beginning of the civil war, had raised a small but well trained militia, armed with the muskets of the defeated Ashen Guard. An astute man, according to many a former Corrish officer: his soldiers occupied several key areas of Charlatan Bay during the first weeks of disorders, outgunning even the Marderian garrisons. In those days, he was almost controlling Charlatan Bay, but his assault against Fort Saint Millar was a disaster: he lost twenty men and, even worse, he lost the control over the gangs he had subdued. The Oleander volunteers and Gustav's militiamen had to fight only a couple of times against Keegan's soldiers, and remembered very well those fierce battles. Now, with the Sugar plantation treaty, Keegan had just moved on their side, bringing along forty expert riflemen. "So, let's recapitulate the terms: 100 doubloons in silver ingots, private trade agreements with the Rimbaud family, and special consideration for a rank in Charlatan Bay forces after the war. I also keep the plantations I control in this moment. In exchange, I recognize Gustav von Bricktin as rightful ruler of Charlatan Bay, now and in the future, and I put my men at your orders." "Correct , monsieur Keegàn" replied Tristan, intentionally stressing his Oleander accent. "But don't forget that all the trade agreements are subordinated to your relations with my mother country. And, obviously, to the capture of Fort Saint Millar and the re-opening of the harbour, whenever it will be!" "It seems reasonable, obviously I have to wait until you capture the fort..." Keegan seemed a little confused… good sign: he had just smelled gold, but now the profit was stepping away, delayed to whenever it will be. It was time for the final jab. "You will do something better, monsieur Keegan. You will come with us against that damned fort!" Tristan left the plantations, followed by his guards. The agreement he had obtained with that greedy and ambitious man, with a bit of luck, would have represented the end of the Battle for Lowtown. That, notably, was nothing like a battle: no real uniforms, no ranks of soldiers, no artillery or cavalry charges, no trumpets or drums; on the contrary, an endless row of ambushes, skirmishes and raids, alternating with alliances, treasons, bribing and intimidation, distribution of food and propaganda among the common people. From the muddy alleys of the city to the most malfamate taverns, from the nearby jungle to the lairs of the gangs, Tristan and Gustav had lead their men again and again, fight after fight. Now, at last, this bloody war was going to end: a final assault against the intimidating bastions of Fort Saint Millar, then Charlatan Bay would be back in control… Soon Gustav would re-establish peace and order, as much as possible in a pirate settlement, and the Oleander contingent could finally make his way home; they had lost seven soldiers, and many others, including Tristan, had been wounded, but the campaign was almost over. The reconstruction would have been long and difficult, no doubt about that, and violence could rise again, but keeping foreign troops in a Sea Rat settlement for too much time would have done more harm than good… what was going to happen next was in his friend's hands, their roads had to part again. Another part of the Charlatan Bay storyline, nearing to its end. I apologize with all the Sea Rats for the permanence of Tristan and his men, by far too long, but real life issues complicated a little the original plan of a blitz campaign. Anyways, my soldiers will leave soon; as usual, I want to underline that I'm not trying to occupy Charlatan Bay, and the presence of my volunteers is only a part of a joined storyline. I hope nobody feels offended by the presence of my soldiers or by the storyline itself, but PM me if you want me to change something.
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Ice, probably the weirdest good ever traded after the discovery of the New World: worthless for the ones who own it, but impossible to buy, no matter how rich they are, for the ones who don't have it. Nevertheless, frozen water is a quite useful commodity: ice and snow, stored in dedicated cellars during winter, have been used for centuries by the Halosians for the most different purposes, from preserving perishable foods to preparing slush and ice creams, from providing relief to the feverish people to cooling the drinks of the wealthiest nobles. Storing clean snow in a ice house. This is a common winter activity in the Old World, especially in Northern regions. All the ones who moved in the New World, however, had to reconcile themselves with a simple fact: the temperate weather of their motherlands is one thousand miles away, and here in the archipelago you can't collect snow and keep it for the summer, since there is no snow to collect. And, in the scorching summer of Breshaun, under the sun of Mesabi Landing or in the sultriness of Pontelli, you have no way to keep fish or meat eatable for more than a couple of days, unless you cover them with salt, or to drink something cold, unless you have the stomach to add some saltpetre to your grog. Starting from this problem, Charles Lautrec, an Oleander merchant, decided to start a new business, something never seen before: collect ice in Altonia, during winter, store it in insulated warehouses and then ship it to the archipelago. Charles Lautrec, the Ice King The first voyage was a complete failure, the cargo melted and monsieur Lautrec almost bankrupted. His enterprise, considered by most a complete insanity, was noticed by the René Duchamp, the financial administrator of Rimbaud family, who decided to finance the ambitious project: delivering ice to tropical islands. Huge profits are ahead for Charles Lautrec (the Ice King as people nickname him), for his supporters, and for anyone crazy enough to follow their business. (placeholder => ice cutting in Altonia) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Category A: Icehouses and warehouses Before ice can be delivered to a settlement, a dedicated infrastructure must be built: otherwise, ice would melt in less than a day. If you want to see ice in your settlement and keep it for more than a few hours, a storing place, owned by Rimbaud Family, must be present. Aim: build an icehouse, an insulated warehouse or something similar in your settlement. Requirements: it must be licensable as a small or medium build. Rimbaud Family (me) will buy it for twice its licensing cost and license the property. Gain for the participants: Twice the licensing cost of the build you submit. Opening a settlement for Cat B builds. Deadline: TBD, according to the participation. Prize for the winners: 1st 50Db+ 25% of the revenues for Cat A properties (for 4 MRCA turns); 2nd 25Db+ 15% of revenues (4 MRCA turns); 3rd 20Db+ 10% of revenues (4 MRCA turns). Winners decided with public voting; I will build something in Cat A but I will not enter the challenge (my builds will open settlements to Cat B, but will not enter the competition). Category B: Fresh fish and cold wine Now your settlement receives its monthly supply of ice. What to do with it, is completely up to you: build a super expensive ice statue to impress your guests, drink something cold, sell ice cream or slush (in Italy it was done since the Middle Age, using snow from Alps and Mount Etna), preserve fish or even try to send tropical fruit back to the motherland. Aim: use your fantasy and build something (more or less historically accurate/possible). It can be a commercial activity, a private use of ice or something different. Requirements: you don't have necessarily to build something in category A, but you can build only in settlements hosting a category A build or in Eltina (see later). The property can be licensed or not; if you don't want to license it, Rimbaud family will gladly buy it at 1.5 the licensing cost. EDIT: You can also build something not licensable in EGS terms. EDIT: You can also participate building in Altonia, provided that you build appropriate steps of the trade (ice cutting, the loading in ships, the transport to the port… or something similar) Gain for the participants: in this case, nothing but the possibility to build something unusual. Your faction or individual players, however, may decide to offer incentives for builds in specific settlements. Deadline: TBD, according to the participation. Prize for the winners: 1st 100Db; 2nd 50Db; 3rd 40Db. Winners decided with public voting; I will build something in Cat A but I will not enter the challenge (my builds will open settlements to Cat B, but will not enter the competition). Category C: Eltina Royal Project While ice trade is moving its first steps in the archipelago, the aristocrats and merchants of Eltina decided to finance something bigger, both for prestige and for economical reason. Eltina Ice House will provide all the ice needed by the elites, but will also allow the storage and preservation of valuable goods, in particular tropical fruit, imported cheese and fresh meat. Ice will also allow a more efficient brewing process for beverages usually requiring cold winter months for their production. Aim: building a Royal Commercial Property in Eltina, starting from the unloading and the transport of the ice, continuing with its storage, and ending with its uses, in particular to preserve goods. Requirements: The quality needed for Royal Builds, and some coordination with the others to reduce overlapping (for example, two ice houses would be useful, but showing storage of fruit in all the builds would be a little boring) Gain for the participants: Honor and glory: you are contributing to the glory of Oleon, our homeland won't forget your dedication. Each participant, moreover, will receive a flat of 50Db for each entry exceeding 1000 square studs (consider about 32x32 as reference, but also 950 studs will be fine; the cut-off is only to have an easier calculation of the overall size). Deadline: The completion of the project Prize for the winners: No winners for this category. If the build is completed and approved, each participant will receive an extra prize of 25Db. EDIT: Post your entries directly in this thread. Please specify the settlement and the EGS class. This mini-challenge is funded and organized by the Rimbaud family (that means with my personal funds), so I can't offer super high prizes, but I hope you will enjoy it anyways. If you have any question, feel free to PM me. Multiple entries are allowed (and encouraged), but you can win only 1 prize in Cat A and 1 in Cat B (your builds take the first and third places => you get the first prize, the third prize goes to the fourth classified). If you need inspiration you can look at wikipedia pages about ice trade and Frederic Tudor, the real Ice King. Voting will be opened at the end of the challenge.
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Hi all, I have a new creation! Baron Nicolas visiting his close friend, madame Josephine at her orange plantation. P.S. Idea for this creation comes to me after watching "Stealing Beauty" with Liv Tyler, and beautiful Tuscany. Orange Plantation by Nikola Đurić, on Flickr Orange Plantation by Nikola Đurić, on Flickr Orange Plantation by Nikola Đurić, on Flickr Orange Plantation by Nikola Đurić, on Flickr Orange Plantation by Nikola Đurić, on Flickr
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Infero Pordejon, Headquarters of Charlatan Bay Militia, July 619 Tristan watched again the map, with the ink of the last notes still drying… each one, just a little more than a date and a couple of words, represented a little step between the current situation, with most of the town under control and a partial restoration of the order, and what he had seen almost a year before: a starving city, the port closed; unprejudiced pirates making a huge profit over the scarce food supplies, the same scums still holding Fort Saint Millar; dozens of street gangs, pirate leagues, syndicates, self organized militias and private armies, controlling small areas of Charlatan Bay and battling for warehouses, food, weapons and supremacy; the helpless civilians, trapped in a nightmare of violence, abuses, extortions and retaliations; hundreds of disperate people, with nothing left to lose, ready to board on anything with a hull, hoping to plunder the nearest ship or colony. Those people, who admired and hated, worshipped and feared their Dark Bishop, had remained without a guide and, after the catastrophic eruption, had started a brutal fight to survive. Tristan read some of the older notes. He found the first one: "September 618, landing point" -and, written a little below -"May the Gods help us all!". Then, moving South, the location of the first camp, were he met Gustav and his militiamen; the first skirmishes, the first plantations and cottages they occupied, the bands that joined their cause, surrendered or were defeated. He found the note about the hidden battery, their first, true victory: "December 618, battery conquered without losses, enemies routed". These few words summarized the first turning point of the campaign: that very day, with new weapons and food supplies for the population, Tristan and Gustav entered Hightown after a violent skirmish against the Red Scorpions and the Hook Gang. Common people and wealthy citizens welcomed them as liberators… what a great day! Peace seemed only a step forward, even if they all knew that it was just the beginning. Volunteers from Oleon and Gustav's men marched together under the Sea Rats banner, following the newly appointed mayor… and giving a lot more authority to his title! That day, Tristan saw for the first time the famous cranes, connecting the two halves of Charlatan Bay. Nobody, even during the worst days of fights and violence, had ever damaged that vital infrastructure. Tristan couldn't avoid to feel a certain admiration for the man who had made them possible: Emil Meloche, the Dark Bishop… a pirate and a heretic, a cruel man who lived in violence and died accordingly but, in a certain way, a great man, who founded a city in the middle of nowhere, making it great and independent, despite the open war against the whole world. Those cranes represented one of the greatest example of the old grandeur of Charlatan Bay. The platform can be lifted using robust chains and, in this case, slides along wooden tracks, allowing the movement of people and goods up and down the cliffs. A few days later, Tristan himself used the crane to reach Lowtown for the first time… as reported by the next note: "December 618. First food distribution in Lowtown. Strong resistance of a local gang. The battle for Lowtown has begun." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another view off the build: Overall view: This is one of the last parts of this storyline, I hope you like that. The Dark Bishop is, obviously, Emil Meloche, @Kwatchi's great character and the founder of Charlatan Bay. Thank you for watching!
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Infero Pordejon, Headquarters of Charlatan Bay Militia, July 619 Tristan Rimbaud was sitting in an anonymous room of the Salty Shipworks, the shipbuilding facility that his friend Gustav had chosen as temporary headquarters of their "army". He looked again at one of the maps, scribbling a few notes about the areas still controlled by the enemies. He emptied his glass of wine, one of the few commodities provided by the Oleonese ships that, now and then, connected the island with the outer world. How easier would have been to solve everything with a pitched battle, where the disciplined lines of his bluecoat would have easily routed the rebels. The campaign, during the first weeks, was surprisingly smooth: the well trained Oleonese volunteers took by surprise the garrison of the hidden battery, opening a safe channel for supplies, far enough from Fort Saint Millar and its cannons. On the same day, the first cargo was unloaded in a secondary landing point: a small task force of soldiers secured the beach, while the local militia took control of the main street… better keeping soldiers and pirates a couple of miles apart. One after the other, the rowboats reached the shallow water, where, months after the volcanic eruption, pumices stones still floated. That day, Tristan received also a letter from the Royal Court: His Blessed Majesty appointed Tristan the Count of Astrapi, a honorary title rather than a real rule over a territory, but still a ladder towards the highest ranks of society. The Defender of Fatu Hiva, as the Court defined him in the letter, could now look in the eyes, as peers, the bloated noblemen who once made fun of the Rimbauds, ancient as Oleon itself but not very rich or powerful. That first cargo, delivered at the cost of enormous risks, represented the best hope of success for Tristan and his allies: food for the soldiers and the civilians, seeds and agricultural tools… but also the musket he needed to transform the local militia, well-meaning but disorganized, in an effective fighting force. A few days after the departure of the Phènix another ship, curiously called Valiant Phoenix, landed in the same point: the passengers, disciples of a weird but pacific cult, organized a field hospital, a fundamental help for the starting campaign. This had happened almost a year before, but Tristan remembered those days very well: with the main road secured and the supplies for the town, he and his friend were ready for their triumphal entry in Hightown… that was a great day, a day to be remembered, but they all knew that it was just the beginning of the long road towards peace and order. @gedren_y, I wasn't following BoBS a lot when you published your nice MOC… I included here a little nod.
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[FB - OL] Chateau D'Ouennes - a fort for Acropolis
Ross Fisher posted a topic in Brethren of the Brick Seas
Chateau D'Ouennes is a medium fort just off the coast of Acropolis. It is inspired by the Chateau D'If from the Count of Monte Cristo, and the St Mary's Tower in Comino, which stood in for the real fort in the film. It will be functioning as a prison for heretics, criminals, political malcontents and debtors. If you'd like to imprison someone here, please let me know! I will be working this fort into the Padré's storyline, but only when his AMRCA is over. Interior: I am going to keep making changes to it, so comments are appreciated. @Kwatchi I've included Robin the cabin boy in that cage. It's only a small hop from Infero Pordejon, so it makes sense that he might end up here. Are you still ok with that? -
If there is one tradition that all four François siblings enjoy, it is the Merrymorn fox hunt, the day after Merrynight. The Guemain hunt is not as well established as some of the others in their corner of Oleon, but with the François family behind it, it has proved quite popular with nobles looking to work off that morning-after paunch.
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Bart has created a Basilica of the Faith for the Bluecoats in the Brethren of the Brick Seas. Come check out this big miniature and other great MOCs in the Brethren of the Brick Seas in the Pirate Forum.
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Returning to civilisation had at first been pleasant. The good food, enjoyable company, and comforts of modern life was a nice change from living it rough in the jungles of Celestia. However, just as he had arrived in Jameston, he had been informed of a diplomatic crisis brewing. It had been sparked by piratical attacks by some crews connected to the Wayfarer Trading Company, apparently founded by the insufferable count Mesabi, who had so angered Montoya during the Malto peace talks. So informed, Montoya had made his way to the Olean consulate in Jameston with the utmost haste, but found the consul unavailable - or at least so he was told by the clerk. Hence, he was now making his way towards the residence of the consul, a small but stately house nearby. At the door, again he was dismissed, told by the guards that the consul was not available. He was starting to wonder if this was really true, or if he was being avoided. Not to be deterred, he had the guard swear upon his honour that he would deliver a letter to the consul at the utmost despatch. The letter: My last build (almost) in Jameston before Montoya heads back west. I wish to offer this little art and culture or residence for Oleon to license, with the stipulation that it counts towards my December build count. @Bodi @Captain Genaro - anyone of you are welcome to license it. :) The secret juniper treaty mentioned above was to have been the main focus of Montoya contacting Oleon upon his return, but something *cough cough* WTC ;) came in the way. C&C welcome, as always.
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Infero Pordejon, Northern Coast of the Charlatan Bay, 618 A couple of cannons in a strategic position, concealed in the thick jungle of Infero Pordejon… at first, the hidden battery was nothing more than that. Today, only two years later, things have changed a lot: the Bishop before, and the Marderian occupants later, progressively strengthened the little fort with heavier cannons, trenches and embankments, making it almost impregnable from sea. Together with Fort Saint Millar, this battery overlooks the bay… who controls them both, controls the port and all the naval trades of the settlement. "Five thousands doubloons for a load of hardtack and salted cod! What else do you want? And if we doubled the price, the inhabitants of Charlatan Bay would pay all the same! And we just have to sit here, drinking rum, playing dice and sending to hell any ship trying to sneak below our nose! We take no risk, and make a lot of money! Why the hell do you think we should take sea?" "Well, you are perfectly right, but… how long can it last? We have completely squeezed the lemon, and now Charlatan Bay is starving. Only the rich can afford the imported food, and now they are to the limit too. We are as rich as Mokolei satraps… why not to leave now, before one of the gangs, or one of the troublemakers of Hightown decides to cut our throats?" "Don't talk nonsense, my friend! The citizens may be starving, but some of them can still pay nice doubloons. The gangs fight one another in the streets for the control of warehouses and control zones, but all the goods they divvy up come from the port, and they know that no merchant would trust them… without our mediation the commercial routes would drain completely. Moreover, they are not strong enough to assault the forts. And that old captain, Von Bricktin, left the city several days ago... if we are lucky the indians are already using his skull as a mug, and may Hades damn his soul!" "You are right, as usual. Nevertheless I feel not quiet, our position is not so strong from land… I think we should hire more men, maybe build a palisade towards the jungle. And I think we should leave this damned island and enjoy our money in Mesabi Landing, Tortuga or another joyful city." "Mmh, taverns, alcool and high life… what a nice thought! One more month and we'll leave with all the gold of Hightown, I'm sure that some of those fatty pigs still hide money somewhere… let them starve for a while, and we'll take their gold for a piece of bread!" "Sir, the Oleander cargo ship we spotted has let down the sails… it has stopped right outside the bay! Hades knows what those drunkards are waiting for!" Meanwhile, a figure was crawling in the bushes behind the turret, a tomahawk in his hand. The man climbed the turret. The sentinel was staring the sea, as he had done for the last hour. Easier than expected… this sentinel was the last one. A quick hit with the handle of the axe, a dull thud, and all clear for his comrades. Everything seemed moving faster: a musket fired… ...sharply interrupting the conversation of the pirates. There wasn't even a real battle: it wasn't matter of bravery or cowardice, since the pirates were completely surrounded and no resistance was possible… ...how could they fight with a gun already pointed against their face? Things were going well, thought Tristan, even better than expected… now everything was in his friend's hands, since the incoming ships loaded with supplies needed a safe landing point in the bay, far enough from Fort Saint Millar cannons. Using a little mirror, his men sent a light signal to Le Phénix, the ship waiting outside. The timing had been incredibly good, thought Tristan, thanking Poseidon for His help… with a bit of luck, that evening all the inhabitants of Charlatan Bay would have had something to eat, and Gustaf would have received all the guns he needed for his men. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This build was strongly inspired to Kwatchi's hidden battery (I referred with a link to his build), that I considered a crucial element in the joined storyline about Charlatan Bay
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I finally got around to photographing the results from my prospecting build. I've tried to continue working with ball joints with the rockwork, with some success I think, and decided to try a black background instead of my typical white. Comments and criticism is welcome. While not the valuable metals and gems the Company had hoped for, the discovery of mercury on Stéphanique was still an important resource, perhaps one that was even better than gold and rubies. The current mercury mines in Halos were already operating at their limits forcing the new gold and silver producers in New Terra to pay outrageous sums to the sultans of Mokolei and the Middle Kingdoms in order to ensure that production could continue. But this discovery could change that; the first new source of quicksilver in over two hundred years and right in the middle of the colonies. Right where it was most needed. Mercury Mine by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr The Company wasted no time in sinking a shaft and bringing in workers to begin extracting the valuable ore. A small garrison ensured that the secretive natives would be dissuaded from causing any trouble that could halt production while Company officials regularly visited to ensure that the foremen were doing everything possible to maximize the amount of ore being brought to the surface. Mercury Mine by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr
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Oleon's Response by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Charles Clouet hurried along the promenade, praying that his master wouldn’t be too upset by his delay. “Damned fools” he muttered between breaths. “Damned fools should know better, waiting so long to inform me,” he swore as he hurried. Oleon's Response by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Puffing, Charles rounded a hedge just as a familiar, stern voice stated “F3 to G4.” Looking under the pergola Charles saw Pierre Lavalette Genaro, Duc de Vele sitting under the pergola, papers stacked on the table in front of him. Oleon's Response by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr “My lord!” Charles exclaimed with a deep bow as he approached the pergola. “Forgive me. I was unaware of your return until a few minutes ago!” The Duke turned his head slightly to glance at Charles before responding. “Your timing is impeccable. I was just about to send someone to find you. Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to an empty chair. “You know the Major?” “The Major, my lord?” Charles asked. The Duke pointed at his opponent who was busy studying the board. “No, my lord, I don’t believe I have been introduced.” “Major, come here,” commanded the Duke. Oleon's Response by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr After a brief glance at one of his rooks, the Major headed for the pergola. “Major Wolfgang Hochstetter, Charles Clouet,” said the Duke in his typical emotionless tone, not even bothering to look up from the letter he was reading. “The Major is currently in command of the company’s fortifications in Lavalette, Charles is one of my secretaries” the Duke continued. “A pleasure, Major,” Charles said with a bow. After Wolfgang replied, Charles went on “Where does your family hail from, Major. Eranos, perhaps?” “The Major is not from Oleon, Charles” the Duke interrupted, this time bothering to look up. “Major,” he went on, “perhaps you could join us for drinks shortly, but for now Charles and I have some business to discuss. Wolfgang gave a crisp bow before returning to the board to contemplate his next move. “Not from Oleon, but yet he commands our forces in Lavalette?” Charles inquired. “I find foreigners tend to take less interest to Oleon’s internal politics,” replied the Duke. “Now, what is the situation with Fatu Hiva?” Charles froze for a moment. The Duke wasn’t going to like this. “We’re still not exactly sure what happened there, sir. The commander’s report states that the Corrish vessel attempted to enter the harbor, refused to respond to any hails or signals, and showed no signs of distress.” “Were there any other ships she could have been fleeing from?” “According to the report, my lord, there were only the ships at anchor and some small native vessels.” Charles paused for a moment, but seeing that the Duke remained silent, he continued. “The vessel, the Corrish vessel, was cleared for action and her guns run out at the time. She fired on the fortifications which swiftly destroyed her.” “And what have the damned Corries to say?” inquired the Duke. “Nothing as of yet. The WTC’s rag,” “What is their interest in this?” “It was one of their ships, my lord.” “Ah” the Duke said before ordering Charles to continue. “Their paper claims that we are in league with the pirates and that their vessel was simply pursuing a pirate vessel into our port. Baseless claims, my lord. Utterly baseless, and they offer no support for their claims.” At this Wolfgang interrupted. “G3 to D6, and I take your bishop,” called Wolfgang. “H3, E7” the Duke instantly snapped back before returning to Charles. “So they claim that we are hosting pirates in our harbors and use this as an excuse to chase legitimate shipping across the Brick Seas. Have we established what ship they were chasing?” “No, my lord. We have not determined if they had a particular prize in sight. It is the opinion of the garrison’s commander that they were simply hoping to seize some local or coastal vessels.” “And Corrington has no official response?” “Correct. As of now they have remained silent on the matter.” The Duke silently fumed, rapidly drumming his fingers on the table before suddenly snapping. “Damned Corries,” he roared in a rare display of emotion, one so strong and filled with such hate that Chares involuntarily recoiled. “Damn them all! Attacking our forts, our ships! I’ll see the perpetrators hang for this!” While the Duke paused for a breath, Charles quickly interjected. “The report states no Corries survived, my Lord. And if they did, they would be in the hands of the Order by now, seeing how they control that settlement.” The Duke chose to ignore this last statement. “What is our response?” Oleon's Response by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr “Jacque Debussy has penned a letter…” “Do you have it?” interrupted the Duke. Charles nodded. “Read it,” the Duke commanded. After a brief delay to remember in which pocket he placed the letter, Charles pulled it out and read it in full. The whole time, the Duke remained silent, maintaining a steady gaze seemingly into the abyss. When Charles had finished, the Duke remained still for a moment before replying. “Is that all?” “I, I don’t quite follow, my lord” a confused Charles replied. “The response, I mean. Isn’t there something meaningful or are we going to respond to Corrish gunshots with strongly worded objections?” the Duke thundered. “If you wish to compose the response…” “My response would be to send a fleet to these pirates’ homeport and drag their masters out by their toes! I’d see the whole blasted town burnt to the ground!” the duke roared on. “But that would be an act of war,” Charles meekly responded. “And what would you call firing on Fatu Hiva?” challenged the Duke before pausing. “No, no,” he said as he cooled down. “As much as I would like to see that happen, I fear that would require more political capital than I care to spend on this issue, especially considering our potential to profit from it.” “How’s that, my lord?” The Duke simply stared at Charles, his calm, stoic personality taking control once more. “All shall be revealed in good time, Charles. All in good time.” Oleon's Response by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr
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Infero Pordejon, somewhere near to Northern Coast, 618 After a long, extenuating waiting, the day they had been waiting for had arrived. During the previous days, all the patrols sent in exploration had found nothing but ashes, destroyed buildings and skeletal remains of the once luxuriant jungle… that damned mountain had hit very hard the northern part of the island, while the southern area and the settlement seemed, from advanced reconnaissance, almost untouched by the disaster. If that was a divine punishment for the sins of the Dark Bishop and of his damned followers, the next time gods should aim better, couldn't help but think Tristan. What concerned him most, however, were the many signs of violence and pillaging his men had reported, such as smoke plumes in the distance, burnt houses and farmers fortifying their homes: sitting there waiting, while innocent civilians were being killed everyday, was destroying his nerves. That morning, however, something was going to change: Master Sergeant Marcel Dubois, using his words, had "taken contact" with Gustaf Von Bricktin, and the old pirate was arriving to the camp; considering how pale Marcel looked, the contact probably implied being surrounded by an angry mob of pirates. In a very short time, the pirate gang entered the palisade: Gustaf was followed by a few men, shabbily dressed and covered with ashes. Tristan immediately recognized his old friend, with his head up and the back straight. Despite the age, the long time spent as an outlaw and the peaceful retirement in Charlatan Bay, the old officer was still there, leading once again his men against the enemy. The army Gustaf had gathered, however, was quite different from the grenadiers he once had led into battle against the barbarians on Pontilla borders: his soldiers seemed tired and visibly starving, their clothes were dirty and tattered, while their weapons were a heterogeneous assortment of old rifles and melee weapons. However, thought Tristan, those men didn't surrendered in spite of all the troubles, of the hunger, of the hopeless situation: the old officer was definitely still there, and still knew his job very well. When the pirates entered the camp, tension rose a little: even if in a different uniform, all the volunteers were Oleander soldiers, and caressing the trigger of the rifle when seeing a pirate was almost a natural reflex. Discipline, however, prevailed, and the soldiers kept calm. "Tristan, old friend of mine! I will never thank you enough for your help! You have really been mad enough to come here, and you have also found found someone mad enough to follow you on this damned island… welcome on Infero Pordejon, by the way, even if you can't see my island in its best shape." "You almost seem surprised, old buccaneer! How could I have missed a chance of seeing your ugly face?" Tristan continued, more seriously "I'm glad you are fine, Gustaf! When I heard of the Marderian coupe against the Bishop, and few weeks later of the disaster that hit Charlatan Bay, I feared for your life. How bad is the situation?" "You know I'm a tough nut to crack… and the ones who tried plundering my housed learned it too. But I'll be frank: the situation is very bad. When the surviving Marderians left Charlatan Bay, the gangs of Lowtown, the pirate crews blocked on the island, and basically anyone who had a weapon or who could steal it started fighting: some for power, wealth and areas of control, but most of them for food and survival. The port still closed, since the bastards controlling the forts prefer speculating on the little available supplies, and the crops are failing. If we don't act soon, Charlatan Bay will starve to death, with the only exception of the responsible ones, who are becoming fatter and richer. Oh, I almost forgot, they also want my head on a plate for what I'm doing." "Well, I've seen better situations… "...but I also brought from home a couple of toys that could be quite useful." "I see you even brought a cannon… quite a strong argument during a discussion! But to be honest food is what concerns me most… we are scraping the bottom of the barrel, but the famine is imminent." "First of all, excuse me for my poor hospitality… you and your men have arrived just in time for the lunch, and I'm still holding you here talking. I think that things will look better after a proper meal, and it seems your men really need it. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring much without a proper landing point; a cargo ship will be here in days, filled with whatever we need to feed your people and begin the reconstruction, but we still have a little problem…" "Yes, those damned forts! They will fire at sight." "Unless we take care of them before. Come with me, after ten years we have again a battle plan to discuss together… and I think that the old officer I once met in Pontilla will enjoy my idea." A carriage of supplies An overall view
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November 618, Le Bellan, Eltina The settlement has grown quickly during the previous years and Eltina, today, resembles almost completely a large town of the Old World, except for the palms and the parrots: elegant bystanders walk along paved streets, flanked by houses built with stones. Even the new troops garrisoned in the city, in particular the courassiers recently arrived on the island, are something quite unusual for a colonial settlement, more used to militiamen or, at most, a couple of infantry companies: Eltina citizens proudly consider them a sign of the importance of their island, now a province of Oleon, more than a godsforsaken, unexplored angle of wasteland. Armoured cavalry, however, needs new armours: a new furnace was built for the purpose, with specialized smiths coming from Granoleon. Making an armour, in fact, is not an easy task, and requires the best iron and the best expertise: first of all the iron ingots are heated in a coal furnace, the bellows keeping the temperature high enough. Then the comes the core of the work: the steel bars are hammered, bent and hammered again, cooled and heated, cut in foils and moulded in the wanted shapes, again and again for hours. The number of different layers of steel determines the resistance of the armour: three layers (meaning basically three concentric armours welded together) represent a reasonable balance between weight and protection, but require a lot of time and work to be produced. The armours are quenched in cold water to further improve their resistance and durability: the process must be quick enough to work, but not too brutal or the steel, instead of reinforcing, will become fragile and will crack. At last, since courassiers are elite soldiers, the armours are carefully polished with a grindstone and finely decorated, one by one, by a specialized (and hopefully talented) artisan. Even if armoured cavalry can still route almost anything with a frontal charge, the times of legendary kings, jousts and spears shining in the sun have ended centuries ago, and knights must be protected accordingly: the main menace, nowadays, is represented by infantry with firearms. For this reason, each armour is tested under the sight of state officials: it must endure without damage a short range gunshot... ...or a musket ball from a longer distance. The armour the courassiers wear, in fact, is not only a distinctive sign of the regiment or a decorative object: it can be pierced by a close range shot of a musket or of a modern rifle, this is true, but still provides a good protection aganist swords, arrows, pistols and blunderbusses, that means aganist weapons frequently used by cavalry and militias. Armoured cavalry is not at its sunset yet: it's not invincible, but still can decide the result of a battle with its powerful charge. To do that, not to be cut down before reaching the enemy is a good start and, if that is possible, part of the credit for that also goes to Eltina armour smiths.
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[OL - FB] The Convent of the Sisters of Our Lady of Artemis
Ross Fisher posted a topic in Brethren of the Brick Seas
The Convent of the Sisters of Our Lady of Artemis by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Extract from the continuing adventures of Padré François, as narrated by his companion, Monsieur Gallo The only name she gave was "Weasel". We never found out why, but maybe it was because she could slip away from any problem. She was a born survivor. She had outlasted her parents in the initial terror that hit Fatu Hiva, and she had made it out of the jungle when so many of the rest of our militia fell to the head hunters. I suspect it was her survival instinct that impressed the Padré. When we finally escaped that hell-hole, he ensured that she was well looked after. Took her to the local convent of Artemis and payed well for her to have a good education. Weasel had gone through hell in her life, but things were about to change. -------------- OOC: This is my small Arts and Culture reward from the Fatu Hiva challenge. In my canon, it happens chronologically before the Padre leaves the Ile d'Or. Any inconsistencies like this are Monsieur Gallo's bad bookkeeping. -
Letter from Duchess Celeste Dupré to Guérin Godefry de Tourment dated 3 November, 618. My darling Guérin, I hope you are well! It has been too long, simply too long since we last met! How is your darling wife? We miss her dreadfully at my salon. Please tell her the conversation is simply drab without her charming sparkle. And your daughter, she must be nearly of an age? When do you plan to let her debut in society? You must allow me the honour. I will throw Granoleon's finest gala ball for her. I am so sorry to hear of your son's sickness. I will send my best physician to you as soon as he is ready to travel. I know the boy has his father's strength, and I have faith that, with the grace of the gods, he will recover. But I am afraid I have a silly request to make of you. It's my little brother. Not the priest; I hear the Order plans to promote him after some business in the colonies, to Abbaye or something? No, we need to do something about the baby of the family, young Pierre. Possibly you have heard the nickname he has been lumbered with? "Le Chevalier de la Chasse" - so humiliating! As if he was some sort of debauchee. His vices don't even compare to those of his peers in the provinces. Like that Hollande fellow, scandalous! Oh, I agree the fellow needs to change his ways, become a productive citizen of Oleon. But he can hardly do that under the cloud he is suffering with. To that end I am asking you to invest him with a rank. Make "Chevalier" more than a mockery. Give him a position he can apply himself to. I know you can. And you do owe me a favour or two. More than one member of your family owes their necks to the gentle words I had with the crown after that debacle during the Juniper Wars. And let's not forget, there are a few secrets of yours that I have been graceful enough not to share with your wife. Please, help me Guérin, you're my only hope. Your affectionate, Celeste Dupré P.S. It occurs to me that you may not know the François family crest - we've been out of favour for a long time. It is, I am given to understand; A falcon displayed parted per pale azure and argent on a field counterparted argent and azure. I trust that you can make sense of that? I certainly can't. [1] OOC, this is my request to the Oleon leadership for a promotion for my Sig. Being a clergyman, he cannot accept a noble title. But his little brother can! And perhaps you can see to it that the Padré receives an appropriate commensurate rank at the same time?
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Acropolis, Pharos, October 618 Acropolis, probably the smallest and the least important colony of the glorious Empire of Oleon… basically nothing more than a little village clung on a tiny island, far from commercial routes and devoid of any resource. Almost in the mouth of one of the largest and fiercest pirate settlements in the archipelago, Acropolis has never been raided, and not because of its strong defences: the reason is that only a group of beggars would consider appealing the possible loot. A new house, however, has been built in Acropolis: a modest house, if compared to Breshaun palaces or to the homeland manors, but probably the largest building in the whole settlement. Built with stones hardly carved from the bowels of the island, this house belongs to Rimbaud Family and represents at the same time a warehouse, an advanced base for operations in Southern Terraversan Sea and a residence. Or, better, it could be a residence if it had been already furnished, something that is still work in progress. Today, however, something important seems to be happening in the house, probably the most interesting thing since Louis the milkman broke his wooden leg trying to ride a cow: an important officer is heading there, with "the high uniform, the guards and all the other things"; an admiral, according to someone, a commodore by sure, according to others, or "just another useless medals wearer", according to old Louis. "...thank you, monsieur, please bring the bottles in the wine cellar. And be careful with the globe, you there! It was shipped directly from the Old World!" "Sorry to interrupt you, monsieur, I'm here to meet l'honorable monsieur Duchamp." "Welcome in Acropolis, monsieur le Commodore, I wish you had a smooth journey. My master is waiting for you inside, please come inside!" The Commodore dismissed his guards and entered, preceded by the butler. "Probably I should congratulate with you, Renè." Attendant of the House of Rimbaud, administrator of their commercial empire and now manager of a football team… you are a man full of resources!" "Adrien, my friend! Welcome in this metropolis! I wish you had a smooth journey. Well, my men had the idea just after the campaign on Ile d'Or. To be honest I didn't expect the result at all… some of the guys learnt the rules only on the way to Bastion. Who knows, the support of that strange priest may have helped… some of the men appreciated that, others feared an uncomfortable questioning in case of defeat! But now- continued Renè Duchamp more seriously- let's move to important things. You probably know that our common friend Tristan landed with some soldiers on Infero Pordejon..." "Is that true? I've heard that, but I thought it was just one of the many port tales, like the creative ones about Governor Cooke! Did the county go to his head? What does he want to do on that damned island?" "Unfortunately he left before receiving the news about his title. And you have the chance to tell him personally about his new rank." "What do you mean?" "Well, answering your previous question, Tristan went in Infero Pordejon to provide relief to the population and to help Gustaf VonBricktin, old friend of him and new major of Charlatan Bay. I think he planned everything quite carefully, but he needs someone for the delivery of a certain cargo he made me gather here in Acropolis. Without that, he will probably be brutally killed by the inhabitants within a couple of months. You can understand the whole thing better reading Tristan's words" "A safe plan, nothing to say. Let's see..." "Let's see what is the cargo… Hardtack, salted meat and salted cod, sausages, sauerkraut to prevent scurvy, a supply of flour, butter, dried peas, beans and onions… Dear gods, how many soldiers has he raised?" "Read below, Adrien: seeds, agricultural tools, nails, planks and beams. The suppliers are not for an army, they are needed to feed the civilians and to rebuild the damaged houses. Moreover, you should also bring Tristan some additional things he asked me to provide: a couple of chests of shiny Astrapi silver, special gunpowder for signalling rockets, a box of documents and some canned meat produced by those madmen in Mesabi Landing." "So everything is already planned, we'll lend a hand to those scoundrels… The cargo is on the island, Le Phénix is moored in the port, and I'm here, so you also have someone mad enough to lead your ship to Charlatan Bay. There is only a tiny detail: Charlatan Bay port is closed, and the forts would shoot us on sight. In that case, surviving would not be the best option, I've heard terrible things about the prisoners' fate in the gold mines of that hellish island!" "I know I'm asking you to take a risk, but we should trust Tristan. Be careful, but if he promised that you will find a safe mooring point, you actually will." "Well, I owe Tristan my life and I'll trust him again this time. But if he saved me from Saleeki pirates only to make me become a target for cannonballs, I swear I'll come back from Hades' kingdom only to insult him!" Without minifigs: @Mesabi, @Drunknok, @dr_spock, @Bodi, @Captain Genaro, @blackdeathgr, @Ross Fisher, @Roadmonkeytj I've been too busy in the last period to keep the pace with BoBS world; I included references to things I couldn't comment (fake news about Cooke, canned meat from Mesabi Landing, the end of the tournment, the county, the support of "the Hawk of Hades" to my team). Since my character still doesn't know about his title, I still can't build a proper answer to his investiture… I'll do it when it will fit with the storyline
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The recent upgrowth of black flag fleet, composed of all sort of dinghies and drift woods cramped with adventurers and opportunists, is menacing the safety of honest merchantmen. Facing this new menace, no, not really a menace, nothing can defy the superiority of Oleander navy, we prefer to qualify it as a small inconvenient, which needs to be treated consequently, with minor force if possible. Therefore, fast sailing ships are needed, of smaller tonnage and lighter construction, vessels like sloops and brigs are more adapted to anti-piracy task, and we could spare our precious Sotl from routine convoy duty. Side view of la Sentinelle, as you can see, it's a 16-gun brig. She was built a couple of months ago, I wasn't able to post it in time because I didn't have time to take pictures. Thank you for viewing. Vive le Roi!
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Wanted: Merde "the Murderer" Bounty: 50db dead Whereabouts: Last seen in the Sea Rat town of Bastion, on the Nest of Thieves, participating in the BoBS Tournament Soccer Cup. Accomplices: Last seen player-coaching a crew of Oleonaise Navy sailors, who have been dubbed the "Ocean 11". No bounty is offered for these, and aggression may be seen as an act of war. Crimes (in chronological order): Theft, larceny, loitering, arson, rioting, murder, resisting arrest, breaching penal sentence, desertion, misrepresentation, impersonating an officer of the Oleonaise Navy, theft of an Oleonaise Navy vessel, fraud, conducting diplomatic relations as a private individual, double-fraud, unlicensed gambling, embezzlement. Details: Private Merde deserted his post in Astrapi on the Île Zeus on, or about, September 13 and intercepted the crew of a naval dispatch vessel en route from the recent troubles on the Île d'Or to Granoleon. After talking to the crew, he successfully convinced them to urgently re-route to the Nest of Thieves. Once there, he honestly informed them that they had broken military protocol, and would likely be court-martialed on return to Oleonaise waters. Therefore their only hope of redemption would be to enter and win the local football tournament. However, he apparently abandoned his accomplices sometime during, or after, the tournament and his location is currently unknown. It is likely he has joined a crew of cut-throats under an assumed name. This is my entry for the BTSC. The Ocean 11 are ready to kick butt for Oleon. Let me know if there's anything I need to do to make this a legal entry.
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Tristan, I hope this letter finds you well, old friend of mine. I know it has been some time since we have wrote the last time: by then I have taken up residence in Charlatan Bay on Infero Pordejon, as you probably know a large volcanic island in the Sea of Thieves. It has been a great change going from sea life to that of a landlubber... I had started building ships to keep my connection to the sea, even if the salty wind on your face and a deck under your feet are quite a different thing. However, all was going well until several months ago: the volcano on the north side of the island exploded suddenly and it seemed the town was going to be destroyed as well. At first it was sheer panic as the cloud of ash and smoke belching from the mountain turned the morning sky as dark as a moonless night: it was like a demon fell over the town cloaked in its new ashy cloud. It didn't take long for people to start scrambling to catch the tide. It was pure chaos: several ships sank in the bay just by others running through them. Then the fortifications began firing on ships trying to maintain order in the Bay. That day was terrible, but I'm afraid this was only the beginning of the disaster. With the port closed supplies quickly doubled in price. Then the looting started: at first shop owners were threatened and beaten, but the more it drug on the worse it got. Soon the beatings turned to murders as the keepers tried to fight back. Mass riots plagued the streets and soldiers couldn't control them, not even firing on the crowd. Hightown even began to see the crime of Low town, and Low town fell in the most complete anarchy. I have seen my town turning to ruins. Tristan, as you know I am not a fearful man but I am afraid that if I don't step up soon, I too will just be another body in the street. I've rallied a few supporters and I plan to retake my town from the violence and the chaos. My friend, I know you have always been one for a good fight, and now the honest citizens of Charlatan Bay desperately need somebody fighting for them. I would gladly accept some help, maybe some privately trained men if you can. I don't wish to bring here any army as that would be the ruin of what we have strived to build here, but I will take back my town and would love to have some good men at my side. Your Old Friend Gustaf VonBricktin The last rowboat reached the coastline. Only months ago they would have met groups of fishermen, maybe a pirate crew sharing the spoils of their last raid. Now the little beach was covered with rocks and ashes, and the only sign of human presence was a ruined building, buried in almost a metre of volcanic debris. That bay had always been quite a secluded place but now, with the terrifying fallout of burning ashes that had hit the northern coast, there was not a living soul who could see them, or hear the floating pumice stones, as big as a human fist, hitting their hull with dull thuds. And that was exactly what they wanted. "Sir, no sign of hostile forces spotted. For miles all around us there are only burned trees, a couple of ruined houses and a barren wasteland of damned ash!" These words broke the unnatural silence of the bay. The men were nervous, things seemed wrong, that place seemed more suitable for damned souls than for living beings; they couldn't hear a single seagull, a cormorant or a parrot… but sometimes a low rumbling came from that damned, restless mountain. The officer continued: "Please, don't consider me a coward, monsieur Rimbaud, but…" "But we are still in time to take our boats again, row as fast as we can and never come back, hoping not to meet Hades himself in the meantime." Completed Tristan Rimbaud "Were you saying something like that, right?" "Yes Sir. More or less, Sir." Replied with uncertain voice the officer. "To be honest I don't like the situation too. We have just landed on the devastated coast of a pirate island where most of the population frankly hates Halos nations and their soldiers. Moreover, we can't receive direct support from our country and can't wear our reassuring uniforms, or it would seem an invasion and we would have to face a general riot. In that case, even a shallow grave would be a good result. I would rather take a vacation in Hell than being on this island. But, if we don't lend a hand to my old friend Gustav, the settlement would starve and fall in the most complete anarchy. Any appearance of order would disappear from the island and, while the civilians would suffer enormously, the most dreaded pirates, with nothing left to lose, would swarm like vultures in the whole archipelago." "So... we are really here to save the pirate republic, Sir? I thought I would have seen Charlatan Bay in a different situation, from a firing battleship, for example!" "Our mission is exactly what I told you when you volunteered for it. A pirate republic is bad, but the alternative is worse." -Then Tristan raised his voice, talking to his men- "Soldiers of Oleon! We are on this island in an unexpected situation, to help people that only months before we would have fought fiercely. Our task is to help bringing order back and giving aid to the population. It's a difficult task, you know that, and we will not receive reward nor glory. You all volunteered, but you are still in time to take a step back, you would not receive punishment or contempt. Now decide. I don't need brave men, I need something more: I need Oleander soldiers, the pride of our Nation! Are you with me?" The soldiers looked each other for a second, then their expression became proud. One of them made a concorded signal to their ship: the crew would have sent some more boats with horses and supplies for the town, then they would have left. Tristan gave a little sigh; he had recovered his men's bravery, now they would have followed him to Hell and back. Exactly where he was going to. This is the beginning of a joined storyline with @Roadmonkeytj (credit to him for the letter). My character is in Charlatan Bay with a support/humanitarian role and should not be considered a hostile force. The soldiers (not many, less than a company) are there only storywise. @Kwatchi, I'll try to be as faithful as possible to the way you created the settlement. I'll follow Roadmonkeytj's guidelines and won't do anything too strange. PM me if you don't like something of my builds (that will basically be training some militiamen, bringing supplies and so on)
