Two short, sturdy creatures fond of drink and industry share a exquisite banquet on a immaculate platinum table. On the gold plates scattered about the table were the remains of their modest feast: A liquor of poppies and goose fat, and cock tinsh with buttered hyssop for a first course; roasted pike, combwort, and balls of rabbit meat for a second; sliced fox tongues, ballom pudding with oyster gravy, battaglir weed and beans for the main course; collequiva ice and sugar fritters for dessert. The two were jovially recalling all their past adventures. The dwarf with gray popping out of the bottom of his adamantine crown was none other than Borik Devilsinge, the high-king of his kin. The other, a fair dwarf with a curled, disheveled black mop and a beard to match, was his son Zulgar. Some would say the kings most 'favored' son, though, the king would never allow such scandalous hearsay to be uttered in his grand hall.
". . . And then, the 'queen' of the elf rabble asked me, she said, "Yeah? You and what army?". I pointed back behind me, back at the night creature that had been trailing behind me the past three days for her answer. When she finally got around to picking up her jaw, she fled behind her defenders. They shot at it with arrows, but it was no use, the monster snapped the queen in half an’ went to beating down the rest of the bandits with her broken body! The battle was half done before I even drew a weapon. When the knife work was done, I came back to the hamlet told them I solved their bandit problem, and their night creature problem ... At the same time!" Zoltar exclaimed with a grin.
High-king Devilsinge let loose a roar of laughter. "Truly, what a laudable feat! I doubt any noble of mine could tout one better."
"yes, you might even call it 'king worthy' . . ." Zoltar said humorously, but with a little sting in the words.
The king picked up on that little quip. " Aye. What a king you would have become. A fair one indeed. And I alone am the blame for that. If only ..."
There was a tense little silence.
"If only I weren't a bastard." Zoltar finished for him. "Yes, yes. Well, we cannot let old regrets hinder us, can we? I harbor no ill will about it, father. Should you? In fact, I quite enjoy life of an adventurer."
The king sighed. “A life of self exile, as the parliament likes to call it. No life for my Royal blood.”
Zoltar scrunched his face up in a snarl. “Humph, well sod the parliament. The time away from the mountianhome has been good for me. Built me character. ”
“Aye, Aye. . .” The kings nodded, albeit forced and a little disappointed in the state of affairs.
Borik looked at Zulgar very curiously.
"What if I told you kingship may not be as far from your grasp as you realize?" The King said shrewdly.
Zulgar gave him an unsure glance." The laws of our land are crystal clear about bloodline and succession, O king. I am null on both grounds."
“You need not tell me about our laws, Zulgar. I wrote half of them myself, And I am acutely aware of how I am chained down by the others.” The king warned with a cavalier smattering of patronization. “ You do not become as old and as powerful as I without knowing your way around a bureaucratic block.” High king Feb Frostake’s eyes gleamed. “I have a plan.”
“And I’m wrapped up in this scheme as we speak, Aren’t I?” Zulgar asked, knowing his father all too well. “I must admit, I am Intrigued now. please, continue about this ‘plan’ to storm your own throne. ”
The King let his bragging streak get the better of him “Indeed you are, Zulgar. What an ingenious plan it is! However, It alll relies on your imbecile half brothers, who, by chance should be here any moment now. . .”
As if on cue, the Brothers Devilsinge burst from the left and right doors of the dining hall.
“Yes father what is it?” they said unanimously with an annoyed twinge. Both brothers took a double take at the echo.
“You!” The two shouted unanimously again.
“Father! Father! What is Reddmont doing in my side of the Palace, father!? He’s never allowed on the left side! ever! ” Bluth sniveled.
Bluth was a heinous glob of fat. His skin was translucent, like the transparent, undulating, carapace of a queen termite. His ‘chin’, if a piece of fat with no discernible jawline could qualify as a ‘chin’ ,was encrusted with a grand neck-beard. An amazonian canopy with a red, blistering acne jungle floor. He wore a garish assortment of clothing that couldn't get a succubus laid. He wore a stupid Ironic fedora hat made of batwing leather along with stupid ironic mermaid scale pants. He wore a self-made artifact T-shirt that has a giant ‘@’ symbol and the text ‘Eh, Moria was better’ stitched in, Because GET IT? Sadly, no Dwarf has ever ‘got it’ in the fifty years he’s worn it.
“I’d like to know what’s happening aswell!” Reddmond chided. “ I thought I made it clear I never ever wanted to see this ugly dwarf-child’s face on the right side of the palace again! Father what’s going on?”
At 3'9" Redmont was a tiny, tiny little Dwarf. He was a dwarf Dwarf in honesty. This did not hinder his ability to overcompensate for the fact, however. He was bald, he had a fiery red interlocked beard that dragged across the rock floor. He was muscular, and never wore a shirt to make sure everyone was very well aware of it. His body was covered with futhark runes; he didn't know what a single one meant of course, because he thought learning to read was beneath the likes of a prince in grade school, but the tattooist assured him they meant something "totally rad as balls". He had two barbells pierced through his left cheek.
“Sit. Yourselves. Down.” The King growled with all the restraint he could muster at his idiot offspring. The king’s blue eyes bolted between the two, disgusted scowl permanently etched.
“You should very well know this by now, but I have learned to never underestimate either of you. Ever. You are brothers. Twins, in fact. I currently have not one eldest in line for the crown but two. Long and hard, I have thought of a way to solve this fairly - “
“Well It’s obviously going to be me.” Reddmont interrupted. “ The crown will obviously be mine! was there any doubt? I mean just look at this.” The Dwarf flexes his muscles. “ Carved by Armok himself!” He laughs. “And the Dwarves, they don’t want - “ He gazes over his brother’s gut in disdain. “This disgusting looking jellyfish running things!”
“Hey, It’s a skin condition, now I can’t really -” Bluth sputtered with contempt.
“Spineless translucent jellyfish!” Reddmont mocked. “They want a dwarf whose thought process starts in his gut and stops at his balls. They want a leader! One who is intelligent and fiscal and, uh,” Reddmont paused, desperately racking his brain for more ‘big’ words. “uh, Autocratic!”
“ Fiscal!? Reddmont, You’ve spent half my treasury on parties and whores!” The king said with disbelief, perhaps pity. “And the other half? You’ve spent on weapons made of pure gold. All of which you’ve broken during sparring practice.”
“I have them re-forged at a semi-decent price . . .” He muttered under his breath.
“And you -” The king bellowed at Bluth’s direction in low enough of a tone to shake the earth. “ Do you know. How much you spend weekly? On Toys.”
“Pfft, they are Collectable figurines.” Bluth says dismissively.
“Toys!” The King shouts at him.
“As I was saying,” The king continues, blood pressure obviously rising “ I have found a way to fairly-”
“Can it be an exam, or some sort of written form of test? I excel at those! Also, does the king have to, like, talk to people? ‘Cause I’m -” Bluth sighs “ - I’m not good with all that. . .”
“Yes, Bluth, you kinda have to a people person.” The king growled, visibly upset. “ Talking is ninety percent of the job! And No! There’s more more to being king than what you can find find in a book! It’s a little more involved than applying for a carriage license!” Visibly exhausted, He turned to Zulgar and shot an expression that shouted ‘Can you believe this shit?’
Zulgar nodded grimly.
"I have found the solution to the problem." The king finally expelled. The king swipes the food scraps off the world map on his grand platinum dining table. " You are going to prove to me who's more capable." He scans his map for their embark sites. "you are both going to build mighty mountain homes, ones of gandure that have never been witnessed before."
The two gulped at the sound of the task.
The king finds the sites. They were under a post-it note that read, 'only a most painful death lies beyond this place.' He ripped it off and laid his index finger upon the location. "You will build them in the forbidden zone, and whoever has generated more cumulative wealth in twenty five years, shall be crowned king!”
“ Oh No. No way. The forbidden zone is a place of pure evil!” Reddmont retorted.
“Oooaah I’m sure it’s not all that.” the King reassured him.
“Don’t you remember last year? When you sent four hundred armored knights, forty warrior priests and a research team to find out what’s up with that place. Like, One dwarf came back, sans an arm. His scientific analysis was, and I doth quote: “Things just don’t give a F%k over there. You smash whatever moving pile of bones has a grasp on your leg to everloving shit? It doesn't give a f$%k. It’ll keep on gnashing with whatever. The animals? you want to tame a fwuffy rabbit? F*&k you. it simply wants nothing but to die and take you with it, and then get up and beat the shit out of you again. You want to grieve silently next to your wife as she dies from simply inhaling the air in that place? F#$k. You. She’ll spring back up and tear your arm off. The. Place. Does not. Give. A. F!@#$%^&*ck.” He Then proceeded to strip, and wail down the mountianhome streets until you graciously put him down, O king.”
“Did I? I don’t remember any of that.” The King said coyly. “ Ook, so it might be a wee li’l bit dangerous.Think of it like a grand adventure. With an entire kingdom as a due reward! And, Also; remember that I am not asking you, but commanding you to.”
Bluth’s eyes gleamed like diamonds. A chance to prove himself in his fathers eyes? A chance to one-up Redmont? What was he waiting for? “If that is your will father, you shall have it! I will construct for you the GRANDEST MOUNTAINHOME in all of the Garden of Gaia!” He bellowed boldly.
Reddmont curled his lip up in derision. “ Oh no you won’t! I will build the most heavy metal thing in this plane of existence! ”
“Is this on?” Bluth shouted at Reddmont.
“This is so on!” Redmont shouted back.
“Yeah? Well I’m walking out the door right now!”
“Yeah? Well I’m-”
The two fully-grown infants continued to shout bold words at each other as they backed into their respective sides of the castle.
“Convicts will be sent to your sites periodically, boys. Do me proud.” The King said casually, maybe with a lack of caring.
They both slammed the doors shut. After a moment, Bluth’s creaked back open.
“I. . . I uh, can rule from here in the mountain though, right Father? I don’t actually have to go outside do I? I mean I don’t even know where to begin making a mountianhome!” Bluth laughed Nervously.
“GOOOOOOOOOOO.” The king shouted.
“Y-Yes, Father” He squeaked.
Zulgar cocked a brow. “I still don’t see how this gets me any closer to the throne...”
“Oh, Zulgar. You still have very much to learn about Dwarves.” The king Smiled.
“You see, in their stupidity and their ambition to outdo each other, they will kill themselves. That leaves only you to bear the crown, And the Parliament will have no choice but to take a knee.”
“That seems a tad extreme father. They are going to die because of me?” Zulgar observed.
“I would have done this regardless. How else am I going to get them out of the house in this economy?” The King inquired back.
Zulgar shrugged and nursed his mug of ale.
“Twenty five years?” Zulgar said with an air of impatience.
“ Ah, Politics, Zulgar. They take time. ” The king thumps his chest. “ And we are Dwarves. Tough, and hardy. Twenty five years mean nothing to us.” with a grin He then added.
“And I have no small gut feeling you will have your crown much, much, sooner that that!”
The Rules are simple, Two forts compete for a set 25 years to create the most generated wealth in a hellish, scorching biome. When a Fort hits year 25 THEY STOP.
You are given one Pretentious noble, You must keep your noble alive. If you noble dies you LOSE. Your noble CANNOT be assigned labors, for they are completely incompetent.
If your fort crumbles you LOSE.
We are running on Lance Armstrong Rules, I want to see the most steroidal freak of a fort you can create.
Deconstructing Tradeposts. EVERYTHING ELSE IS LEGAL.
Don't worry if you lose, that does not meant the game ENDS. PM me if you LOSE.
Turns last ONE year and ONE IRL week.
I set this up so it should ALL run with very little influence from me, It should be very self sufficient..
Author
Topic: Friendly Competition: Competitive Succession Forts [OOC / Rules] (Read 1090 times)