World Progression Story Dark Tides

Walrusaur_

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The boats rocked lazily against the seas, their sails catching the wind as they made haste to the struggling front line. The dawn was still hazy as the Third Regalian Fleet neared its rendezvous with the Return Fleet, the troops and sailors aboard the various ships beginning to wake up for the next rotation of shifts and meals. One of the two Calemberg Third Liners was the RCS Kenmark under the command of one Clovis Kehlen in conjunction with Robert Carwell who collectively oversaw the fresh Knights' transport. Elric Norwood and Iris Kehlen had just finished their shift in the crow's nests of the vessel, both yawning in equal measure as they swapped out with Edair Wulfhelm and Alaric Maison who had just emerged from the ship's mess hall, hints of their breakfast still adorning them. Below deck, Eleanore von Rahm and Markolf Siegward shared a breakfast of oranges, buttered toast and oats as they exchanged tales of the battles they had taken part in over their years of service.

The second Calemberg Third Liner was the RCS von Rahmerhard. The vessel was adorned with various markings and illustrations, the most prominent of which was a rather crude depiction of an Ithanian woman, evidently left by one of the soldiers or sailors aboard the ship. Jared Kade stood on the command deck, paying no mind to the whimsy of his troops as they made for the front, focusing more on giving his helmsman instructions and preparing for what he expected lay in wait for them on the mainland. While the Commanding Ranger was occupied on the bridge Barrulf Blackmyre and Valentin d'Monterre made their rounds, ensuring everyone was running on schedule and checking over the ship's manifest. Below deck in the crew quarters, Aesmal Haaven was hard at work fletching arrows along with the other Rangers under the Kade's command, though an occasional grumble or curse could be heard from Densel Nystrom as the Frigate behind them rumbled with noise and hollering.

Aboard said frigate dwelled the RCS Dortmunder's First Mate Brandt Norrvakt who was busy managing a migraine as he rifled through papers, trying to make sense of how his boat came into possession of ten crates of women's lace undergarments while Aelendax Baerlen snickered to himself somewhere in the cargo hold, clutching the ship's correct manifest list. Aprilly Demarais sat on the main deck, leaned against a railing as she looked out over the orange tinted sea. After a moment or so she was joined by Manus of Bhacstair who had brought up some apples and dried meat to snack on. Below deck, Alphonse Garrison and Mackston Cormac had pushed some barrels and crates aside to form a makeshift sparring pit, exchanging punches and screaming profanities at each other as they trained for whatever battle lay ahead while Sibÿllad Lykke reclined in an impromptu hammock made from spare sails, fiddling with her warpick. Helming the ship however was the Varran Fawzi Kra'zzla, an exceptionally gifted Varran Corsair in service to the Regalian State as a diplomat. On the main deck, the fresh Allar reinforcements were hard at work sharpening their blades, Mozz and Zzalangua Mu-Yaotl both ensuring their weapons were in prime condition to fit their unorthodox fighting styles.

As the boats carried on through the mists, the early morning sun cast the sea in an otherworldly orange hue. But just as the troops began to enjoy their mornings, the Naughtknight flagship raised a signal flag; Orders for the battlegroup to halt. Aine Nalijeoi quickly descended from the von Rahmerhard Crow's Nest, sprinting to the portside railing along with everyone else. Gasps of horror and confusion echoed throughout the Third Fleet as they looked outward, all eyes trained on the silhouette on the horizon. One of the first to properly inspect the scene was Jon Calvin Byron. After a few moments of peering through a spyglass, he dropped the tool, signing the Unionist eye and muttering to nobody in particular "Spirit preserve us." Johanna Haaven grabbed the spyglass, taking a look for herself before a mortified look came across her. "They're all dead."

A few hundred feet across from the battlegroup were two Regalian Frigates, both nearly broken in half, flames dancing across the crew deck and climbing the masts. Nadiir Kahn looked on from the Dortmunder, noticing the bodies aboard were completely blackened. He was unsure if the heat waves from the fire were distorting his vision, but he thought he could make out some of the bodies fidgeting where they rested. Relveth Vinthracia's gaze was similarly locked on the burning vessels, wondering to himself if returning to the front was a wise idea after all while Thalion Amlugonnen tried to console Myla Reyner. After a few moments, a new signal flag was raised, prompting the battlegroup to continue on its path, albeit more slowly. Arjan von Abela, who was finally returning to the front after suffering severe wounds during the initial landing, stared outward, muttering to the soldiers about him "What in Aloria could have happened since I left?" Susanne Carnt was one of the few who made her way back to her station aboard the ship, tending to the rigging if only to distract herself from the ghost ships. Geoffrey Broussard leaned over the railing on the Kenmark, a look of disdain blatant as his hands balled into fists against the railing. Many of the troops failed to return to their stations, two of which were Egil Asger and Thomas Dopsworth who were both still confused and afraid. "What could have done this?" Thomas asked his comrade, receiving no response as Egil's focus was locked on the seemingly charred bodies. Tragically enough, their answer lay on the horizon as they approached the Return Fleet at the midway point.
 
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Geoffrey stood there, fists clenched at the sight of the destroyed ships. Things were going so well, he thought, when he had left the beach to begin work as a hallowblood. Now that he was returning to the war effort, things seemed to be getting worse. He gave a bit of a growl as he pushed off of the railing and made his way to the bunks, getting ready to begin crafting together more bolts as well as sharpen his sword. He had a bad feeling about this.
 
Robert Carwell stared solemnly at the wreckege of the ships, he muttered a prayer under his breath, before moving back to his duties. "Double the amount of lookouts."
 
Edair Wulfhelm swallowed back the immense sense of dread that hit him when the burning ship came into view of the crow's nest. His journey through this war had already exposed him to so many new horrors, but the one comfort he kept with him, was that his side was winning. Now as the blackened ship and the multitude of burned bodies came into sight, that small bit of hope seemed lost. His grip on his spear tightened and his mind drifted to the coming battle. He knew this time that death didn't seem so foreign anymore, and for the first time during the war, he feared for his own life and those of his comrades.
 
Aelendax Baerlen leaned back with a grin, folding the manifest and tucking it into his jacket. Information, as he always said, was key. He raised a brow as mutterings began to spread and people headed for the top deck, standing with a sigh to follow them. Once more as he walked, he lamented having to leave behind his usual garbs of soft silks and cloth for this outing, especially as the sweat started to soak into the back of the rough spun rag these people called a shirt. But, he knew better than to act uncomfortable, no matter how much he wanted to rip the thing off. Now was the time for sacrifice- exceptionally minor, melodramatic sacrifice.

He squinted as he stepped off the stairs, pushing past Egil and Thomas as he grabbed a telescope for himself. "What are you all staring at in this blasted heat?" he said, lacing his voice with a more farmer-y accent. He had to lower the telescope to wipe a tear from his eye the glare off the water was so bad, but finally he spotted it clearly as somebody muttered, "Our ships."

"Oh.... f*ck me." Ael said to himself. Land battles he could escape, but if this came to a navy battle... "I think I've bit off more than I can chew this time." He said quieter, lowering the telescope as someone else reached for it.
 
Clovis stood at the head of the Kenmark, eyes moving slowly to each piece of wreckage that floated in the elven water. "Signal to the others, prepare the cannons and proceed with extreme caution. I want all men at their stations or they can bloody swim the rest of the way." As the flags signalled to the rest of his fleet, the Admiral closed his coat tightly over his breast.
 
Disclaimer: This post is roughly 1/3rd the size of my standard posts, but this is a pre/interlude to the event taking place this evening at 6pm EST as well as the player driven narrative that will result from it. If you did not sign up for this post, you are still free to act as though your character is present assuming they've chosen to help in the war effort. That aside, enjoy this brief teaser for things still to come.

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The boats rocked lazily against the seas, their sails catching the wind as they made haste to the struggling front line. The dawn was still hazy as the Third Regalian Fleet neared its rendezvous with the Return Fleet, the troops and sailors aboard the various ships beginning to wake up for the next rotation of shifts and meals. One of the two Calemberg Third Liners was the RCS Kenmark under the command of one Clovis Kehlen in conjunction with Robert Carwell who collectively oversaw the fresh Knights' transport. Elric Norwood and Iris Kehlen had just finished their shift in the crow's nests of the vessel, both yawning in equal measure as they swapped out with Edair Wulfhelm and Alaric Maison who had just emerged from the ship's mess hall, hints of their breakfast still adorning them. Below deck, Eleanore von Rahm and Markolf Siegward shared a breakfast of oranges, buttered toast and oats as they exchanged tales of the battles they had taken part in over their years of service.

The second Calemberg Third Liner was the RCS von Rahmerhard. The vessel was adorned with various markings and illustrations, the most prominent of which was a rather crude depiction of an Ithanian woman, evidently left by one of the soldiers or sailors aboard the ship. Jared Kade stood on the command deck, paying no mind to the whimsy of his troops as they made for the front, focusing more on giving his helmsman instructions and preparing for what he expected lay in wait for them on the mainland. While the Commanding Ranger was occupied on the bridge Barrulf Blackmyre and Valentin d'Monterre made their rounds, ensuring everyone was running on schedule and checking over the ship's manifest. Below deck in the crew quarters, Aesmal Haaven was hard at work fletching arrows along with the other Rangers under the Kade's command, though an occasional grumble or curse could be heard from Densel Nystrom as the Frigate behind them rumbled with noise and hollering.

Aboard said frigate dwelled the RCS Dortmunder's First Mate Brandt Norrvakt who was busy managing a migraine as he rifled through papers, trying to make sense of how his boat came into possession of ten crates of women's lace undergarments while Aelendax Baerlen snickered to himself somewhere in the cargo hold, clutching the ship's correct manifest list. Aprilly Demarais sat on the main deck, leaned against a railing as she looked out over the orange tinted sea. After a moment or so she was joined by Manus of Bhacstair who had brought up some apples and dried meat to snack on. Below deck, Alphonse Garrison and Mackston Cormac had pushed some barrels and crates aside to form a makeshift sparring pit, exchanging punches and screaming profanities at each other as they trained for whatever battle lay ahead while Sibÿllad Lykke reclined in an impromptu hammock made from spare sails, fiddling with her warpick. Helming the ship however was the Varran Fawzi Kra'zzla, an exceptionally gifted Varran Corsair in service to the Regalian State as a diplomat. On the main deck, the fresh Allar reinforcements were hard at work sharpening their blades, Mozz and Zzalangua Mu-Yaotl both ensuring their weapons were in prime condition to fit their unorthodox fighting styles.

As the boats carried on through the mists, the early morning sun cast the sea in an otherworldly orange hue. But just as the troops began to enjoy their mornings, the Kenmark flagship raised a signal flag; Orders for the battle-group to halt. Aine Nalijeoi quickly descended from the von Rahmerhard Crow's Nest, sprinting to the port-side railing along with everyone else. Gasps of horror and confusion echoed throughout the Third Fleet as they looked outward, all eyes trained on the silhouette on the horizon. One of the first to properly inspect the scene was Jon Calvin Byron. After a few moments of peering through a spyglass, he dropped the tool, signing the Unionist eye and muttering to nobody in particular "Spirit preserve us." Johanna Haaven grabbed the spyglass, taking a look for herself before a mortified look came across her. "They're all dead."

A few hundred feet across from the battle-group were two Regalian Frigates, both nearly broken in half, flames dancing across the crew deck and climbing the masts. Nadiir Kahn looked on from the Dortmunder, noticing the bodies aboard were completely blackened. He was unsure if the heat waves from the fire were distorting his vision, but he thought he could make out some of the bodies fidgeting where they rested. Relveth Vinthracia's gaze was similarly locked on the burning vessels, wondering to himself if returning to the front was a wise idea after all while Thalion Amlugonnen tried to console Myla Reyner. After a few moments, a new signal flag was raised, prompting the battle-group to continue on its path, albeit more slowly. Arjan von Abela, who was finally returning to the front after suffering severe wounds during the initial landing, stared outward, muttering to the soldiers about him "What in Aloria could have happened since I left?" Susanne Carnt was one of the few who made her way back to her station aboard the ship, tending to the rigging if only to distract herself from the ghost ships. Geoffrey Broussard leaned over the railing on the Kenmark, a look of disdain blatant as his hands balled into fists against the railing. Many of the troops failed to return to their stations, two of which were Egil Asger and Thomas Dopsworth who were both still confused and afraid. "What could have done this?" Thomas asked his comrade, receiving no response as Egil's focus was locked on the seemingly charred bodies as they shrank in the distance. Tragically enough, their answer lay not hours away over horizon as they neared the Return Fleet at the midway point.
Nadiir inspected the blackened corpses from afar, his snout grimacing at the sight, yet he constantly looked around in confusion at their fidgeting, blackened corpses. Was it the smoke distorting his Varran vision through the black? Or was there something more nefarious going on...or both? Something was very wrong going on, and very unnatural. He simply hoped and prayed that the Spirit and his Ancestors guided his hand and kept him safe against whatever black evil this was. It felt wrong for him to be not at ease upon the waves....
 
Finishing off his cup of water, Markolf was quite interested in the young Matrias' recent stories of conflict and common life. Sympathizing with her lack of sight in one eye with his own; as he continued to further indulge in his own old and newer experiences. Spending the morning's rising sun to reflect on the past.
@SnugglyKittens
 
Arjan von Abela just seemed slightly afraid about the sight of the broken ships. Wincing from his severe injuries that still ached as he sighed.
 
UPDATE
Following the Return Fleet's chaotic landing, the Void's Grasp plague has now spread to the Regalian City streets and its denizens. Those infected who suffer wounds will experience the tendril phenomenon in a manner similar to that of those in the previous progression. Below is all the information you need to know in regards to how this will affect roleplay!

For Infected Characters:

  • Void's Grasp Wiki Page
  • When interacting with other players, prompt them to roll for infection (but do not force them). This is done by doing /r 100 - if above 60, they are infected.
  • It is now public knowledge in Regalia that there is a void plague created by the Kathar and characters are now able to react to this.

For Non-Infected Characters:

  • All infected individuals should be reported to the Violet Order, the Violet Order is to escort said individuals to Fort Purity (/tp FortPurity).
  • Guidelines for handling the infection can be found on the notice board within the fort.