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Cat A Cat B part 1 île D'Or, August 618, somewhere in the jungle Nights can be very dark in the jungle, with just a little campfire to repel the shadows and the humidity of the night… very dark and very lonely, for a sentinel guarding the bivouac, alone among his companions wrapped in their blankets or, if they are lucky enough to be officers, sleeping in a comfortable tent. Nights in the jungle can also be very dangerous. Snakes leave their holes, hunting for preys in the bushes and in the low water... ...but you can also receive an undesirable visit of some two-legged snakes infesting the island. Without a sound, similar to shadows in the night, they got close to the camp: two of them headed to the tent, ready to cut the ropes and then slaughter the men trapped inside... ...while the others (among which a familiar face) approached the soldiers, in order to slit the sentinel's throat and kill the others in their sleep. It will be a matter of seconds: blades in the dark, horrible stabbing sounds, and everything will be over. A matter of seconds, and then... ...then the assassins dressed in black will be in the middle of the fake camp, clearly visible in the light of the fire, among straw puppets and pineapples covered by hats. Clearly visible… and ready to be ballasted with a considerable amount of lead! An overall view A couple of close-ups of the cane field -
Part 1 île D'Or, August 618, Fatu Hiva "Our birdie is turning left again. No doubt anymore, he is following us since the fishing point." "I'm sure I can nab him, monsieur. Alive, if you prefer, or with a second smile in his throat!" "Thank you, Klein Hans, this is the right mood... but we won't need your knife today. I'm quite sure that man would not sing even if we caught him, they would have never left in Fatu Hiva someone who would betray them." "The question is, mon ami, who are they?" Replied Doctor Laurent "What do we know about them?" "At least our red headed friend is Halosian. Oleander, or he would have been noticed. Their modus operandi, spreading panic with allucinations, is strange... I think they are not common pirates or smugglers, but they are cruel enough to kill innocent natives and pioneers..." Said Tristan, toughtful. "And they are dangerous, very dangerous! They routed a company of RNTC marines without even using firearms: our soldiers' wounds were inflicted with daggers or swords, probably during a close meele combat not far from Fatu Hiva." Continued Doctor Laurent "That means they have patrols or figthing groups right outside the city. They are sieging us and we didn't even understand it!" "But why? Without any clue about their aims we can't fight them! Meanwhile panic is spreading in Fatu Hiva... Two-bit preachers are proliferating in the city, saying the Gods are punishing inhabitants for their sins: if we don't change the situation people will begin to leave!" "This could be their aim." "I think you are right, mon ami. Watch that crowd: people are frightened, and the militiamen keeping them under watch seem tense too. But still we can't do anything, unless..." "Unless what?" "I'll explain it when I'll shape my idea a little better. For now it's better going for supplies to the general store... The petit oiseau following us will gather information and tweet his masters that we'll leave for the jungle in a couple of days." "And what will we do in truth? "We'll leave for the jungle in a couple of days!" "But we'll be walking straight into a mousetrap!" "Don't you know, mon ami, that Oleander mice have lion's fangs?" The general store The house upstairs Additional photos Overall view: ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is my first entry for cat.B, the story will more canonically continue in the jungle. With a 32x32 footprint, the store and the tavern it is licensable as medium commerce (I won't do it, Fatu Hiva can license it if needed)
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The court day finally came, the infamous pirate Harrison Torn was conducted to the Hotel de Ville of Lavalette, then brought to a small room. He looked around and asked "where's the jury, where's the audience?" "There's no jury, no audience, only me and monsieur l'inquisiteur." Replied the judge in a cold, monotonous voice, then he added "shall we proceed, monsieur l'inquisiteur?" The man behind the small desk said "Your honour, the man you see here is accused of piracy, he was caught in the act by one of our fleet, I hereby ask a fast and severe punishment." "Very well, the evidence against him was overwhelming, send this man to the gallows." "But...I...I protest" stammered Harrison Torn. The inquisitor intervened, aloud, "the culprit said he's filled with remorse and he has no objection to the sentence." The judge nodded "Right. Next!" The execution and funeral of Harrison Torn was a lovely affair. Lavalette had recently built a new gallows just up the coast (actually a converted smugglers crane). The pirate himself gave a moving last speech, something along the lines of "It's not bloody fair..." Tragically, most of it was lost to the noise of the wind. Death of a pirate by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Harrison Torn's body hung there for a week or so as a warning to other pirates, before it was cut down by a small group of locals, who preferred their rum without import tax. This has been a collaboration between myself and @Bodi. Let it be a lesson to anyone else considering piracy in Oleonaise waters. -
The Grey Lilly - larboard stern quarter by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Padre, A quick note to say that we have noted your efforts on the Île d'Or with interest. Please find in the harbour of Fatu Hiva a small vessel, the Grey Lilly. It was recently captured in battle, and has been refitted for your use. We would be gratified if you would accept this gift and put it to immediate use. The concerned citizens of Fatu Hiva The Gray Grey Lilly was captured by Oleon a little while back. This is my completed build. She's a class 3, and I hope this does her justice. I realise I haven't really represented her three points of firepower here... I guess that's all below decks.
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Start point: Astrapi, Île Zeus Adventure Purpose: To find the weapon of the gods! Troops: 10 from @Phred, 10 from @Keymonus Coffers: 100 Dbs Characters: Padre François Monsieur Gallo "Juggernaught" Jones (@blackdeathgr) (This is a solo effort rather than a collab build, I'm just borrowing some resources from my countrymen). First meeting of the Astrapi Collective Diocesan Council by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Minutes, first meeting of the Astrapi Collective Diocesan Council, taken by Monsieur Gallo, a notary. Meeting held in the function room of the Astrapi Inn. In attendance: Padre François, priest of Hades, Renè Duchamp , on behalf of Tristan Ribaud, "Juggernaut" Jones, on behalf of Hugo d'Offren , Sergeant Carel, of the Astrapi guard, Brother Aquila, a monk of the Temple of Zeus, and agent of the Padre. Items of business: 1. Pact of Secrecy - queried by Monsieur Jones, but confirmed by Brother Aquila. If he is correct, the Temple of Zeus would be keen to thwart this venture. All parties agreed to the pact, ratified by signature, witnessed by Monsieur Gallo. 2. Main item. Padre François proposed to lead an expedition to recover the weapon of Zeus that is believed to have landed on the island. Brother Aquila confirmed fears about the Temple of Zeus. All other parties expressed interest. 3. Padre François invited all parties to join the venture on behalf of their masters, promising significant rewards both financial and spiritual. 4. Monsieur Jones volunteered his services as a pioneer and soldier of fortune. Monsieur Duchamp demurred, but volunteered a platoon of d'Offren troops to support the expedition. Sergeant Carel volunteered his own platoon of Astrapi guards. This was queried by Monsieur Duchamp - it would leave one fort unguarded. However, it was agreed that Padre François' personal bodyguard would remain at the fort to provide a semblance of a presence. Brother Aquila also demurred on the basis that his absence from the Temple would likely be noticed, and could not easily be explained. 5. In light of this, Monsieur Jones was appointed the military commander of the expedition, while Padre François would be it's spiritual guide and overall leader. Monsieur Duchamp would be the point-of-liaison in Astrapi, while Brother Aquila would keep an eye on events in the Temple, and pass any notable information on. Other responsibilities were divided up, and a start date was agreed. 6. The venture was launched with a toast. 7. Further oaths of secrecy were given before the meeting was adjourned. Aaaaand here's a video to get you in the mood:
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Rumble in the Jungle by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Extract from 'The continuing adventures of Padre François by his companion, Monsieur Gallo' ...It was then that we descended into the dell. While a general sense of foreboding had been surrounding us the entire journey, here it reached a peak. We had found only small hints that the colonists had come in this direction. However, they were no longer our main concern. Other mercenary companies were out scouring the hills for them. The Padre was more concerned about the head-hunters. The dell was the dark heart of this jungle. No longer a golden isle, but one given to bloody savagery. It appeared quiet, but there were signs the cannibals had been here recently. Shrunken heads dangled from the trees, totems and spears surrounded the clearing, and a trail of blood led to a cave at the foot of a huge rock wall. The Padre ordered a pause while we surveyed the area, and the militia set up a perimeter under the acting-Lieutenant's orders. Unfortunately, that's when the attacks started. A dozen or more of the savages launched a vicious attack, with spears, arrows and blow-darts. Some of the troops were slain immediately, while the rest returned an uneven fire. Soon the entire clearing was wreathed in powder-smoke, and this may have done more to protect us than any defence we might've offered. In desperation, the acting-Lieutenant pulled the remaining party members into the mouth of the cave. Shortly afterwards we heard our pack animal being cruelly cut down. Then, for the longest time, there was nothing. No sound, and only the dim light from the dell, slowly turning to darkness. And then we heard the drums again. And the chanting. "Al'su". It brought to mind the words of the lumber workers back in Fatu Hiva: "Skulltaker prophecy". The chanting and the drumming rose and rose in intensity until a crack akin to musketfire came from just outside the cave. The heathens abruptly stopped, having apparently fled. Their noises were replaced by a malevolent hum. The acting-Lieutenant offered to send a sentry to investigate, but the Padre refused. This, he said, was his mission alone. He left the cave quietly and calmly, his staff gripped in both hands. I followed to the mouth of the cave, and what I saw shook me to my core. There, in the dell, was a daemon; a sight which has stayed with me to the end of my days. Well over 7 feet tall, it was formed from darkness, with a skull for a face, and two glowing eyes that were unblinkingly fixed on the Padre. Then it swept towards him. The Padre thrust his staff into the abomination' s middle, but the daemon kept on coming, grinning its skeletal grin, and raising its arm to strike. It was then that the Padre exclaimed a word from a language I have never heard before or since. What that word was, I cannot recall. I likely would not be able to repeat it even if I could remember. Nonetheless, with a flash of light, the monster was rendered far more corporeal. When the Padre struck again, it was driven back. When he struck the daemon for the third time, its grinning daemon skull was thrown from its shoulders, and its body disappeared into fog on the breeze. The Padre strode over to the skull, and mercilessly crushed it underfoot. Apparently the savages had also been watching the encounter, because this action caused them a great anguish. Much wailing and moaning was heard from the trees and, in time, they moved slowly away. This creature, then, was Al'su, the Skulltaker. Its coming was foretold among the natives. Some, had held onto it as a way to defeat the colonists, and had made sacrifices at this spot in order to encourage it. Others had fled, fearing its malevolence beyond all else. When the Padre destroyed the daemon, he won a powerful victory for the Order of the Faith. The Head Hunters were driven back. In time they might be overcome by locals or other expeditions. Without their daemon, their resolve would be crippled, and their cohesion would crumble. Meanwhile, the rest of the island savages, hearing of this victory, would recognise the power of the Aplynacian gods and convert. The Padre, following this confrontation, deemed his work here a success. We left the Île d'Or not long after. While his path has often been beset by danger, I only saw him enter such immortal peril on a handful of occasions. Each time I was reminded that only the truly righteous can tread such a path and remain unscathed. So that's the end of the Padre's adventure in Fatu Hiva. I wonder what island he'll tear apart next?
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île D'Or, August 618, somewhere outside Fatu Hiva "Why are we here, monsieur Rimbaud?" Asked Marcel Laurent, one of the members of the little group. "I mean... not on the island but here, in this fishery." Marcel, a physician arrived in Astrapi only a couple of years before, was one of the members of the little group. He had spent most of his career in the navy, travelling around the world... nobody was really surprised when he asked joining the expedition. "We have at least two good reasons, mon ami." Answered Tristan Rimaud, leader of the team. "First, I was said Juracàn's tribe was one of the last that arrived in Fatu Hiva, so we can obtain some fresh news. Second, and even more important... don't you like smoked fish?". Meanwhile, in precarious balance on a wooden pole, a native was fishing with his spear and an Halosian was -well...- trying something similar. Soldiers watched them with interest. "Welcome to my fishing point, my lords. The humble Jurancàn wishes he could satisfy you. Are you interested in buying some smoked fish, or maybe you need a barrel of salted cod? We have just found a giant whelk, trust me, a delicacy as you never tasted. We also have crabs and, under the palm, a bucket of wonderful lobsters, I've just caught them myself, I can show them you if you are interested." Finally the flood of words stopped, with great relief of the others. "Thank you, cacique, you are too polite with these men" Replied Tristan, using one of the habitual formulas so appreciated by the natives. "My warriors and I are beginning a journey, so we'll buy both smoked and salted fish, and for this reason we also ask you the courtesy of some pieces of information." "Juracàn would be pleased to be useful, my lords. Are you leaving the island? Juracàn knows all the reefs and sandbanks of the western coast." "I'm sorry you misunderstood, great cacique. We are not leaving the island. I'm going straight into the jungle to hunt whoever is attacking natives and colonists." Here they are. Juracàn seemed a brave man, but most natives were litterally frightened, and was impossible to obtain anything more than a superstitious stutter. "The jungle, my lords? No, no, avoid the jungle! Bad ghosts live there! Live there and kill! They have always hated the men coming from sea, both my people and yours, but now their thirst of human blood increased! Nobody is safe far from the town!" Not very encouraging, but still better then a useless sobbing. "I do not fear bad ghosts, cachique. I will hunt them with my brave warriors, and free both my people and yours from their menace!" Brave warriors... strange definition for his volounteers, an half of which was in jail only a week before: tough and resolute men, but not the ones you imagine on a white horse! "Don't go, my lord, don't go please! Once the forest ghost were not so evil... sometimes they took seamen's life with snake bites or accidents, but not many more than our benign sea gods. But five summers ago something happened: shadows left the jungle and slaughtered brave warriors during the night, and many saw monsters and apparitions. Things went worse and worse, and we decided to leave our fathers' land. Don't go into the jungle, sir, or they will curse you! Somethimes the ones who saw bad ghosts became ill: they had seizures and shivers, and red stains appeared on their skins! Some of them died, and the hands of others became black and contracted..." "Le pain maudit!" -the cursed bread- exclaimed Marcel Laurent. "What are you talking about, my friend?" "All the symptoms are loudly saying ergotism! I've seen this disease when I was a young country doctor in Northern Oleon. Somethimes rye develops strange brown horns, and who eats rye bread becomes ill and sometimes sees or ears strange things. It would also explain the sudden maddness of our soldier... some ergot in the water and a masked attacker would completely frighten anybody!" "But, since the natives do not cultivate... Juracàn, great cacique, there aren't bad ghosts in the forest, but evil men who killed and poisoned your people! Somebody Who is trying to put fear in our hearts! I swear that I'll find them and I will kill them to avenge your warriors and our soldiers." "Monsieurs, cacique, sorry to interrupt you." Whispered a soldier. "We are not alone." Some more photos Salted fish Smoked fish The "wonderful lobsters" An overall view
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Destroying the idol by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Expenses claim, August 618, Fatu Hiva, Île d'Or. Sum: 50db. Associated account: Padre François, priest, Temple of Hades mission. Expenditure: Gunpowder, 5 barrels. Reason for purchase: demolition, pagan idol. Please give full details in order to help us expedite your claim: Your eminences, With the official summons from the governor, the rumours in town, and the results of my own investigations, I determined that the disturbances here merited the further attention of the Order of the Faith. My mission left Fatu Hiva in July of this year, heading into the interior alongside one of the larger streams. For several days we saw nothing but the accursed jungle that covers this isle. However, one week after we set out, we came across a disgusting heathen idol. The thing was festooned with pagan fetishes, votive offerings, and shrunken heads. I immediately detailed half the detachment to begin despoiling the site, while the other half was sent back to town to find enough powder to destroy the thing. They returned two weeks later with the supplies, and we set about preparing the demolition. The miners and soldiers among my conscripts laid the charges, primed the powder, and prepared the fuses. When my people had cleared the area I lit the fuses and retreated into cover. The five barrels my people procured proved sufficient for destroying the idol. Perhaps now these godless fiends will realise the errors of their ways. Addendum. After the idol was destroyed, we heard distant drumming. The natives among my conscripts fled into the jungle, yelling something about "Al'su". I sent men after them. We found their disembowelled remains the next morning. It was the professional opinion of the soldiers among my ranks that their deaths were at human hands, rather than animals. Such barbarism cannot be tolerated. Your humble servant, François
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Astrapi, August 618, halfway between the city and the mine "Good morning monsieur Duchamp, I am honored by your presence here. As you can see, the foundry is now fully operative, and we estimate the costs will be completely refunded in a couple of months". "The honor is mine, director, you've done an admirable work!" Replied Renè Duchamp. Director's prediction was a bit too optimistic, but how to blame his enthusiasm? They had been just a step before complete failure, the investors were discouraged and only his own reassurance to creditors, Tristan's perseverance and the director's skills saved House Rimbaud's investment on Astrapi silver. Everything about that damned silver has resulted harder than expected, with the ore in an impervious area, water infiltrations in the tunnels, the employment of an half of the labour force in the construction of the Arsenal and, last but not least, copper in the silver veins, just enough to make conventional smelting process almost useless. "As you can see, we are receiving in this very moment some partially refined silver from the mine... it is smelted there, but that doesn't remove copper. The cargos are delivered to the pier using small boats or bigger barges" "What are those men doing?" Asked Duchamp, curious. "They are numbering and date-stamping the barrels. Since their content comes from the same area of the mine, we will assay only some of them for copper amount, and mixing them up wouldbe a problem" "And here you can see the beast -continued the director- the heart of the foundry. This is our cupellation furnace, eating coal and pooping fine silver... I am sorry sir, forgive my rudeness." "No problem, Director, it is no trouble at all. Please, go on: how does your famous furnace work?" "How I was saying, sir, it is a cupellation furnace, not a great innovation, but the first one in the New Worl; as the name suggests, it contains one or more "cups", bowls of calcareus sand. The smelted silver from the mine is loaded in the furnace together with a calculated amount of lead. When the metal melts, we open the hatch, and the strong air flow oxidise lead to litharge, that sinks through silver and is absorbed by the sand, dragging copper away. Copper oxidises too, but without the lead movement it would remain mixed with silver." "Lead... that's why you need so much lead! It's not easy bring it to the foundry!" "I know, monsieur, and for this reason we have a good stock of both lead and coal. My men are bringing lead ingots inside the warehouse, a hard job, I do not envy them at all" "There we also store the barrels of raw silver, ready for refination" "Please, monsieur, come with me in the building behind us. As you can see there are a little furnace, used to assay raw silver, and what's needed to verify weight and size of silver ingots and to mark them." "Good morning guys. Thank you for the tour, Director. I only have a question: what is that yellow powderon the table?" "An easy question, monsieur. It is solid litharge, that is lead oxide. We usually sell some of it to local painters, who use it as yellow pigment." The facade of the building An overall view
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Fôret d'Or Lumber Yard by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Transcript of an interrogation at Forêt d'Or Lumber Yard, Fatu Hiva, as recorded by Monsieur Gallo, temple notary. Candidate #1 was asked to explain the circumstances surrounding the 'Fatu Hiva Incident' of 19 June 618. Candidate #1 responded with incoherent mumbles. Candidate #1 was asked to speak up. Candidate #1 told temple representatives to leave, with expletives. Candidate #1 was restrained. Candidate #2 was asked the same question. Candidate #2 yelled something incoherent about "Al'Su". Candidate #2 was asked to elaborate. Candidate #2 yelled something incoherent about "Skulltaker prophecy". Candidate #1 was asked to corroborate the account of Candidate #2. Candidate #1 confirmed Candidate #2's account and explained that "bad juju" had happened to both the colonists and the subsequent survey teams. Candidate #1 was asked to elaborate what that meant. Candidate #1 refused. Candidate #1 was restrained. Candidate #2 was asked about the "Skulltaker" mentioned. Candidate #2 refused to answer. Candidate #2 was restrained. Candidate #2 was asked again. Candidate #2 explained that the "Skulltaker" tribe had met the colonists, had been displeased, and had "awoken" [?] something. Candidate #1 told Candidate #2 to stop talking, with expletives. Candidate #1 was restrained. Candidate #1 was asked to corroborate Candidate #2's answer. Candidate #1 told temple representatives to leave, with expletives. Candidate #2 was asked to explain more. Candidate #2 refused. Candidate #2 was restrained. Further questions proved ineffectual as Candidate #1 had sustained a broken jaw, and Candidate #2 was rendered catatonic, apparently through fear. All records certified to be accurate and correct by Padre François of the Order of the Faith. Aaaaand here it is without the minifigs: Fôret d'Or Lumber Yard (sans minifigs) by Ross Fisher, on Flickr I figured terrified natives would want to cut the jungle back as far as possible, build stronger pallisade walls, and, if possible, get more material to build boats out of (So they could leave in a hurry). A lumber yard fulfills all of these needs! It also seemed like a good place for Padre François to start an uncompromising assault on the island. Let me know your thoughts.
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"We must send this letter to Breschaun, and quick," said d'Offren to his men, "but this should not prevent us to inquire about the merit of local beverage." As they walked by a cart full of barrels and bottles. "Please have a taste, my good sirs," said the man while brandishing a bottle of moonshine, "the choice of lumbermen." "Speaking of lumbermen, why are they working so close to the shoreline, I think the trees here aren't the best species for wood processing," asked d'Offren. "You are right, sir, not the best species, but since the mysterious attack in the jungle, people were so scared that they abandoned their lumber mill in the mill and every one rushed to beach. You see, they are cutting the palm trees and they are piling up the trunks on the beach." Replied the liquor dealer. "Indeed, they have to live with it..." muttered d'Offren. "Ahoy, monsieur le Duc!" d'Offren turned at the sea and saw a shirtless dude. It was the Duc d'Ablette.. "D'Ablette, par Poseidon, what are you doing here? I was going to send a letter to you to ask help." Asked Hugo d'Offren, apparently confused by the sudden appearance of the newly appointed Ministre of Colonies. "I'm here for the mysterious attack, I guess you are here for the same reason, when I heard the news, I thought finally we are going to have some action, you see, I'm bringing my axe with me, we are going to smash them to smithereens, not the lumberjacks, those who dare to defy the reign of Oleon." replied the Duke with a big smile. "To smash who, we even don't know who attacked us, besides, you'd better be stayed in Breschaun, to cooperate our actions, now you are here, who will send the reinforcement." exclaimed d'Offren. "Oh, this is easy, I have a sport ca...no, a fast sailing boat here,"replied d'Ablette, still smiling, "Serge, bring the letter of monsieur d'Offren to Breschaun and tell them to send reinforcement." "Hum, a sport yacht, I should get one of these too." muttered d'Offren. -
This is where I'm putting all my ongoing stories about Padre François. They will go in chronological order of his timeline, rather than IRL. The four surviving François siblings, from eldest to youngest, and from left to right: Hercule François, the Vicomte Guemain, is the head of the family, and holds the sole hereditary title. He is largely concerned with the running of the estate. In his spare time he is a connoisseur of wines, and has built up an impressive cellar in the Chateaux Guemain. Celeste Dupré (neè François) is both an accomplished mother (with two sons and three daughters) but also a renowned beauty and sharp wit. Invitations to her private salon are highly prized, and her book on etiquette and realpolitik in the Royal court has been reprinted a dozen times Padre Jules François you will come to know. Pierre François, the "Chevalier de la chasse", Lieutenant in the Royal Musketeers, and a favourite of the king's back in his days as a carousing young prince. These days he has lost favour, his career has stalled, and his fondness for wine, women and horses is catching up with him. The Dupré Family; François' Sister, Brother-in-law, and his nieces and nephews. From left to right: Celeste, the Duchess Dupré. Monique Dupré; her youngest daughter. Amand, the Duc Dupré. Eldest son Emile Dupré, the Marquis de Guenin. Young Hercule Dupré, the Baron de Boudenelles. Eldest daughter, the recently betrothed Lucille Dupré. Middle daughter Diana Dupré. Blessing the 'Irregulars of the Faith' by Ross Fisher, on Flickr
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[OL - FB] Altar of Cthonic Hades, Fatu Hiva
Ross Fisher posted a topic in Brethren of the Brick Seas
Altar of Cthonic Hades by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Your eminences, As we discussed prior to my departure, I have found that it would be beneficial to send a 'message of intent' to the people of New Terra. As such, I have commissioned the building of a new Altar of Cthonic Hades in the town of Fatu Hiva. I would have liked to build it in marble, but the cost of shipping it here would have been prohibitive. Instead I have been forced to use the local stone, which is passable. The icon is forged from an old spiked cannon, and displays a likeness of the Underlord based upon the icon I brought with me for personal prayer. I had expected to meet more resistance to this project, but the town has seen (and caused) so much death recently that few people voiced any displeasure, and none were willing to obstruct the project. A bowl for offerings has been placed in front of the statue, which should generate some initial funds for the project here. I consecrated the monument with a sacrifice of half a dozen pigs. In time, the gods may see other, larger sacrifices here, and understand our humility. Your humble servant, François Well this was fun. This is my first construction freebuild. It is a small arts and culture building. It's based on other historical altars. These originally started out as just a rocky platform where you could kill an animal. Once you've killed one there, you might as well kill them all in the same place. Keep the blood contained. Doing all the butchery there also makes sense. And then if you're giving a cut to the gods, you'd leave it there. Can't be taking food from the gods. If you were really grateful you'd burn the whole animal to a crisp and leave it there as a holocaust. Eventually, these places got built up and built up with the ashes and bones of dead animals. And then you start getting extra ornamentation, like on the Ara Pacis in Rome, and what started out as just a platform becomes a massive structure, with steps and columns and everything. As our boy François is a priest of Hades, and Fatu Hiva is the start of his journey, and it has seen a lot of death recently, this build seemed like a nice fit for my free small building. Hope you like. Ross -
[OL - FB/Intro/SigFig] Padre Jules François
Ross Fisher posted a topic in Brethren of the Brick Seas
Padre Jules François - BoBS SigFig by Ross Fisher, on Flickr Padre Jules François (centre) lands on the shores of the Isle d'Or, ready to root out heresy and burn savages in the name of the Order. Huzzah! The Padre's early life was that of many common clergymen; the younger son of a minor family, he was packed off to a monastery to learn his trade. However, unlike other young initiates into the Order of the Faith, François developed a knack for uncovering secrets that soon got him noticed by the Temple of Hades. Inducted into their ranks, it wasn't long before he was turning heads across the order. Many fear him, some believe they can use him. What remains to be seen is, is the Padre truly pusuing his tyrannical crusade against heretics because of a holy calling, or is there some more devious purpose driving him? Monsieur Gallo (left) is the Padre's able notary, keeping records of interrogations, files on the personal conduct of notable individuals upon the brick seas, and all the proper documentation that a heretic burning requires. He lost an eye in the service of his patron when a particularly resistant subject broke free from her restraints. However, the pension he received in compensation more than made up for the loss. Merde the Murderer (right) is the Padre's able bodyguard and muscleman. Formerly a penal legionnaire imprisoned for garotting his superior officer, Merde has "seen the light" of the Order of the Faith, and has been released into the Padre's custody. -
And the story continues. I've actually had this one done for about two weeks now, but I'm just getting around to taking the pictures. Comments and criticism are welcome. Previously: Lavalette Inn An Offer Reaching King's Harbour Recruiting Sergeant To the armoury! (Bodi) Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr After meeting his old acquaintance, Contre-amiral Lagaufre, Captain Anthony Genaro began walking around the arsenal. Though dwarfed by the sprawling complexes back in Halos, Lavalette’s armory was one of the larger ones in the colonies. Familiar sights and sounds were everywhere as new soldiers received their uniform and weapons while older weapons were maintained and repaired by skilled craftsmen. After walking for a bit, Anthony waited under a balcony looking into a courtyard full of activity. In one corner, a group of grenadiers were ritualistically checking their deadly grenades, carefully inspecting each fuse to ensure that it was still in good condition, of the right length, and properly connected to the grenade. It is a dull, time-consuming process, but one which leaves no room for error, as the slightest mistake could result in one of the deadly spheres failing to explode, or worse, exploding prematurely. Further on in the courtyard, Anthony could various gunsmiths and engineers repairing damaged muskets, a variety of uniformed soldiers going about their duties, and two armorers putting new blades on enough swords to supply a small army. Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr “Fancy a new edge, sir?” a voice asked. It took Anthony a moment before he realized that one of the armorers was speaking to him. “A generous offer, but I’m afraid I haven’t long,” he said glancing at the chest full of unsharpened swords. The armrer simply shrugged. “Oh, don’t you worry about those there swords; they can wait, but we can’t have a proper gentleman wondering about with a dull sword now. You’ll become the laughting stock of the whole army!” Anthony laughed as he unsheathed his cheap, five guinea dress sword. “I’m afraid you’re wrong on both accounts, my friend. I’m no gentleman, and I’m fairly certain the a naval officer is already the laughting stock of the whole army.” Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr The armeror simply shrugged as he took the sword. “Gentleman, commoner, army, navy… your coins all look the same to me.” As the armorer began putting the sword to his stone, Anthony continued looking at all the activity in the courtyard. “Rather busy,” he remarked. “It’s been this way ever since the 31st arrived from Halos,” the armorer replied, not taking his eyes off his work. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. A bunch of army gents just coming off their boats, pockets bulging with coins, ah, you’d be amazed, sir, absolutely amazed, by how easy it is to coinvince them to get their sword sharpened,” the armeror continued in a very casual tone, but Anthony didn’t care. After all, it wasn’t as if he needed to exert authority over this man. “They think it impresses the ladies, they do. Fools,” the armorer said the a chuckle. “But not the navy boys, sir. Oh, no! They’re smarter, smarter by far sir!” “And I suppose you’ll be telling the next cavalry man who walks past how they’re the elite, astute soldiers who couldn’t be fooled by the likes of you, eh?” “That’s just what I’m talking about, sir, you’re gone and proven my point! Perceptive you navy men are, able to see right through any flattery!” At this point the armorer held up the sharpened sword. “And equally able, no doubt, to notice the skill that went into sharpening your blade.” Anthony pressed his thumb against the blade. Sharp, very sharp, and a very even job up and down the whole sword’s edge. “A fine job indeed,” Anthony replied as he handed the man a livre. “Very generous, sir, very kind indeed,” the armorer said as Anthony tunred to leave. “And if you know anyone, any sir, who needs some sharpening, just send them on this way.” “Even a Corrie?” Anthony said in jest. At this, the armorer twisted his face. “Alas, sir, the good Lord has blessed me with the skills to sharpen swords and metal, but the dull mind of a Corrie is beyond even my expertise.” Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Anthony couldn’t help but laughing, a deep laugh from his belly, as he walked on to the tavern where he would meet Lagaufre. “Oh, I’ll have to remember that one,” Anthony said to himself. “Sharpen the dull wit of a Corrie.” A few more pictures: Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Lavalette Armory by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr
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The commissioning of Cormorant has opened up a new path to small entrepreneurs or adventurers, here we have the Jacques brothers, who have invested their savings in a small cutter, filled it with vegetables and fruits, and sailed away. I really liked Keymonus's boat so I decided to try my hand. The hull measures 34 studs long and 9 studs wide, the hull is shaped by hinges and connected to the bottom plate with hinges as well. It's supposed to be a class 1 cutter, unarmed, it should count on maneuvrability to outrun a pirate. C&C are welcome. Vive le Roi!
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You say commercial routes, and you imagine the huge Eslandolan tresure galleons sailing to motherland, Oleander wines, peppercorn and silver, or the agile Corrish merchant ships full of sugar and cocoa. You imagine goods loaded by dozens of day laborers, pirates lurking, and cargos worthing centuries of a sailor's wage. Believe or not, more than an half of what is bought and sold in the archipelago, more than an half of the doubloons exchanged every day, have a completely different appearance: the lifeblood feeding large cities and desolate outposts needs arteries and veins as much as tiny capillaries. The Cormorant is one of the ships (the best, according to its captain) giving life to the web of small but essential web of trades connecting the islands. Far below pirates' predatory gaze, the Cormorant carries small cargos of humble goods, 50Dbs of worth at most, but distributes anything that is produced or imported to the ones who need it: if you can find rum and ale in your favourite tavern, if you don't die of hunger or scurvy on an arid island, if you can sell your vegetables to someone else than your neighbours, probably you should thank men like captain Moreau and his guys... remember that before aiming the Cormorant with your guns! More pics:
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Captain Picard: Chapter 2 "Mapping the Future" It's a beautiful morning on the outskirts of Lavelette and the soldiers (of the hospitable outpost run by Lieutenant Barry) are bustling about with tasks and endless banter. Picard observed from the first floor window that Barry's ranks were composed of two sappers, two infantrymen and one sergeant apt in the way of navigation, the crew was joined momentarily with Picard's men (An infantry and seaman). It was pleasing for Picard to see the integration of his men back into the fabric of the Oleon ranks. Quaint as this locale was, Picard was a Captain and would no doubt soon need to report to his superiors and answer many questions. Inside the quarters of the outpost, Picard was joined by Barry who after their discussion and revelation to Barry of the fate of Picard's vessel, seemed to have bonded with Picard in a natural sort of way. "Well Barry I must admit, despite the fact I would enjoy to stay here for much longer, if I do not return soon to my superiors, I will be in hot water." Picard admitted. Barry understandingly leaned back and said "You have no need to explain yourself, sir. I understand your duties lie far beyond this small outpost. My ability to have been able to quarter you and your crew has been a great honor, sir." "Please, I should be thanking you for saving my crew and I from certain death. That sergeant of yours now, Barry, he seems quite sharp with directions. Might I do so well as to have him accompany me on the way to the nearest fort?" Said Picard. "Without question, sir. I will inform him at once and he will plot you journey to... well that's up to him I suppose - he considers even the tide and wind direction to figure out the fastest routes and optimal destinations." Said Barry. Later that day Sergeant Lyndon plotted the course they would take and prepared the small scouting boat for journey. Where will Lyndon plot for Picard and what will Picard's superiors think of the calamity on the Finch? Overview of the updated outpost build... -
A small prospecting build I made for Stéphanique. I tried experimenting with some of the new (well, new for me) ball-joint connectors to create the rock. I'm not sure how well I succeeded, but it has given me some ideas for future rockwork techniques. With the arrival of royal troops in Lavalette, Major Wolfgang Hochstetter was much happier, though his perpetual scowl didn't betray it. Company officials had been complaining for months about the lack of a geological survey, but until now he never had enough men to defend both the settlement and the survey teams. Now he did, and the men were surprisingly eager to volunteer for the duty. Hochstetter assumed it was their eagerness to earn his respect, but the truth of the matter was that it took them far away from the major and any other officers who might expect them to stand at attention and remain sober while on duty. Of course, it wasn't all fun and games. Bugs from rivers and putrid ponds swarmed the men and for some reason the survey men insisted on leaving the nice shade of the trees to clime around on rocks boiling under the hot tropical sun. Still, the soldiers were well prepared and with some liquid fortitude they managed to endure their difficult task. A Hard Day's Work by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr
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This is a continuation to captain Genaro's story, which depicts the encounter bringing the two friends together. Previously: Lavalette Inn An Offer Reaching King's Harbour Recruiting Sergeant Jonah took a turn at the street corner and disappeared, Genaro, on the other hand, remained motionless and speechless, a short moment later, - What a strange story, our men held hostages at Westface, he said to himself, without this recruiting event, I’d never have believed it. His good mood was somewhat affected by this small incident, he turned on his heel and headed for the Royal Armoury of Lavalette. Located on the vicinity of Lavalette harbor, the Armoury was an two-storey complex, although recently built, it showed already signs of erosion, a common fate to the buildings along the shoreline. - Bonjour, mon capitaine! At the sight of Genaro, the soldiers guarding the entrance of Armoury stood to attention and saluted. - At ease. Replied Genaro. He walked straight into the yard, where the guns were stored. - Hum, luckily we are well prepared, who knows, maybe we’ll be needing them soon... - Hello, Captain G! His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, Genaro took a look over his shoulder, he saw a strange figure approaching, a bearded man in a shabby uniform, his beard was so dense that one could barely see his face. - To whom do I have the honor of speaking? Genaro turned around and replied with a cold and confusing voice. - It’s me. The man answered by taking off his hair-beard piece. - Contre-amiral Lagaufre, but what happened to you, you look, hum, worn. Asked Anthony. In fact he was quite surprised by the sloppy appearance of Lagaufre, he was acquainted with him during the ball of King’s harbour and he was well shaved and wearing shiny uniform back then. - You mean my beard? Nothing surprising, we’re in the tropic, everything grows faster here, my friend. Oh, have you noticed the temperature? So hot! And we are still wearing the same uniform, I’ve already heard complaints from my men, they sure have the right to do so, the poor men are still wearing shako, wool jackets and leather boots. Do you think we should ask for new uniforms, adapted to tropical conditions? Lagaufre said, frowning. - Certainly, that would be nice. Genaro said, looking at his jacket, then he asked, have you heard the rumours from Fatu Hiva? - You mean the mysterious creature thingies hidden in the jungle, just superstitions, maybe it’s time to educate the true faith to the natives. Lagaufre said with a grin. - Certainly, my friend. But I guess you didn’t come here to discuss this with me? Asked Genaro. - Oh, I forgot, you know new warships are being built at Eltina Shipyards, and we need more guns, that’s why I’m here. I think you aren’t here to meet me neither. Lagaufre replied. - Westface! I just learned that our men are being held hostages there, I felt a sudden urge to come here to check the inventory, we should be prepared for any eventuality. Genaro said - Agreed. Would you give me a minute, I’ll fill the formalities for the guns then we could share a bottle of wine at the local tavern.
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A continuation of my main character's story. Jonah is a character by @SpaceJoey86, and it was a real pleasure getting to combine our efforts for this build and story. I do hope to have more of this in the future. Comments and criticism are always welcome. Previously: Lavalette Inn An Offer Reaching King's Harbour Captain Anthony Genaro was pleased to be back in Lavalette. His mission to Cocovia had gone extremely well, the company had rewarded him richly, his landlady was finally paid, and he had just finished his ship's logs. As such, he decided to visit one of his favorite taverns before heading off to the company's offices to drop off his report and logs. He was in high spirits at the thought of finding some fine spirits, but as he drew nearer to the tavern, he became aware of a large gathering, almost a mob, surrounding the building. Recruiting Sergeant by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Finally he got near enough to see more clearly. The crowd was surrounding what looked like soldiers, royal soldiers Anthony thought, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the regimental banner adorned with fleur de lis. He was about to ask someone what was happening when a sergeant stood on a stool and began reading from a worn sheet of paper. “Loyal Subjects of the Crown!” the sergeant began. “His Most Sacred Majesty’s 31st Regiment of the Line, commanded by Major Victor du Pont, which has so gloriously distinguished itself in battle, is looking to recruit several men to join its ranks. All clever young fellows who are free and able and ambitious of becoming gentlemen are invited to come forth and meet the recruiting sergeant. Such spirited men who are willing to engage will be rewarded at the end of their term, with twenty acres of land. Each volunteer meeting the qualifications shall immediately receive the Royal Bounty of one and one-half livres and all the rum they can manage, in addition to arms, clothing, accoutrements, and every other requisite proper to accommodate a soldier in His Most Sacred Majesty’s army. Vive le Roi!” “Vive le Roi!” the crowd responded as the drum began a steady beat. Recruiting Sergeant by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr The sergeant began talking to the crowd, encouraging potential volunteers to step forward, but Anthony was too confused to pay attention. A royal regiment in Lavalette? Recruiting? Such behavior would be expected from the company, but not a royal regiment. His only hope at answering his questions was to ask someone in the crowd. Recruiting Sergeant by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr “You, there!” Anthony called to a man standing in front of him. “What is happening?” “Haven’t you heard… sir” a man replied, adding the title upon seeing Anthony’s naval uniform. “I’m afraid I haven’t, mister…” “Jonah” the man replied. “Well, Jonah, what is this? Royal regiments in a company town?" “It’s the Terraversans. They’ve seized our ships and men!” “Zeus’ beard!” Anthony swore. “You’re serious?” “Yes, sir. I don't know the exact number, but apparently several company ships and hundreds or thousands of men are being held hostage." Anthony stood there shaking his head for a moment. The idea that some upstart colony would openly seize ships was simply inconceivable. “If that’s all, I really must report to my officer,” Jonah replied anxiously. “Of course, of course,” Anthony said absently. The story seemed insane, too ludicrous to even be seriously contemplated. But it would explain the presence of royal troops and a fair number of the crowd had some rather unpleasant things to say about the Terraversans. “Wait a minute!” he called out, remembering his manners just before the man left. “For your troubles” Anthony went on as he handed the young man a coin. “And Poseidon’s blessings upon you.” "And may He ever stand beside your ship," Jonah replied with a common blessing for sailors. A few additional overview pictures: Recruiting Sergeant by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Recruiting Sergeant by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Recruiting Sergeant by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr
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Alas, The Return of the Long Forgotten Captain Picard - Upon an Unknown Oleon Post. After a disastrous maiden voyage of Picard's little known vessel the Finch (sight unseen before engulfed in flame soon after it's first departure) Picard and the last two remaining crew members escaped the fiery wreckage onto an escape boat. For a mere two weeks they survived off of rations which kept them from the likely barbary of cannibalism. Staved off this horrible fate they did, however. All the while, Picard somehow mustered the sense of mind to map his way to known Oleon waters (but not recently noted) in hope to find some sort of refuge. With a great stroke of luck, and not a day too soon, Picard and his weary crew arrived upon a tiny outpost adorned with the Blue and White "Vive le Roi!". Never had someone so tormented by the endless blue of the infinite seas been so thankful to see more blue, a different kind of blue, the blue of the Flag and uniform he had come to love as much as life itself. Quickly greeted by the commanding officer of the outpost followed by his orderlies, the man's name was Barry and Picard embraced Barry with kind regards and politely suggested with some urgency that he and his remaining crew were in dire condition. Embarrassed for not being quicker to realize and knowing to ask questions later, Barry escorted Picard and his two crewmen into the outpost for food and sleep. The next morning Picard awoke to a lovely midsummer afternoon. Picard felt refreshingly human again, after good sleep and sufficient nourishment, but soon remembered and became mentally enclosed in what transpired what happened on his ship weeks back. His brief bliss was instantly dowered by the memory of the happenings which precipitated his being there at the outpost. About an hour after he awoke, Picard was greeted by Barry with some bread and coffee. Picard could tell from Barry's steadfastness in demeanor he was eager to smooth over his impending inquiry into the fate of Picard's vessel and the story of his journey which lend him to the outpost. Barry worried most about how many men Picard had lost during the ships demise, and how that it weigh upon Picard once shock wore off. "So..." Picard said wearily "You'll be wanting to hear about the boat fire which cast me upon the sea with only two men and a row-boat". Barry leaned back in his wooden chair which exerted a long creak "I'd be lying to say it weren't on my mind". "Well" Picard responded with intent "It was no accident, it was an act of malice and insurrection from within the ranks of my tight crew". Barry now knew he was involved in a story much larger than the day-to-day of his quaint outpost... ~ Thanks for reading, im glad to be back posting again! I have a lot to catch up on. Suggestions for a location of the outpost are welcome! ~
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The increase of maritime commerce in the area and the development of minerary activities on île de Zeus are transforming the once marginal city of Astrapi in a higly populated and lively colony. One of the most evident sign of this change is the growth of the market, held twice a week by arisans, farmers and merchants: where a year ago you would have found only a couple of rough stalls, fresh fruit and some fish, now you can see, all around the main square, a number of well refined stalls, covered with colorful cloths and selling almost any good cultivated, crafted or woven in the archipelago. Here you can see a man selling wines and liquors produced in Breshaun... ...a greengrocer showing a pineapple, a quite expensive delicacy since there is only one large-scale plantation of this tropical fruit in the area... ...a local fisherman... ...a cart with fresh bread and sacks of hardtacks from a near bakery... ...a foreign food seller, with his embers-heated rotating meat (inspired to @Legostone's one), typical of Southern Oleon... ...and a strange man selling strange maps, showing (as he says) "the routes towards the golden kingdoms of the South". An overall view:
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A small Oleander tradeship had left port and started sailing to deliver some exquisite rum crafted by the Perreault family. Unfortunately, when they were out at sea, they noticed there was a stowaway breaking into the goods. Luckily though, this ne'er-do-well was a wanted pirate and they found a small island out in the sea. What better way to deal with pirates than stranding them during low tide? It's been awhile since I've been able to do a physical MOC, just due to being away from my full collection. Luckily the PAB wall at my local store had some great pieces recently and the figures from the UCS Slave I could work for Oleon.
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This topic is for sharing recurring characters throughout our various Oleon stories. Oleon is looking to build stories that intersect. If you'd like your character to venture into other stories, share your characters here! Please use the Oleon Intro Topic to discuss. This topic should be for characters only. Feel free to post multiple characters in one post. The following general format is recommended for each character: NAME OF PERSON: A brief description with whatever information you feel is necessary or important to know. Please keep it under 200 words. [Single Small Image] [INSIDE A SPOILER: Additional pictures of the fig along with relevant links to their story]
