A Simpler Time (mid-1500's)

Eidenburgh, Republic of Xagrurg
Johnny Brown was a merchant located in the city of Eidenburgh, a major bustling port city of Aurora. He often was busy making transactions at the local marketplaces in Eidenburgh, selling his wares and goods to make a living. He lived in the 2nd floor of a 5-story apartment in downtown Eidenburgh, though it was cramped. He was sleeping when he forced himself to get up and wash himself and get ready for the day ahead. “Thank god for flush toilets and our great sanitation system,” he told himself while using the bathroom. He opened his trunk in the bedroom and pulled out a nice set of clothes and then looked at his calendar. “It’s September 30, 1551,” he said. He then proceeded to exit his apartment room, saying hello to the other tenants and onto the street, busy with hundreds of people and carts on it. There were also apartments and schools as well, with a woman singing from her balcony and schoolchildren learning how the Urth circled a body known as the Sun from the teacher.

Expedition Oasis
Off The Coast Of Present Day Middleantis

32 Royal Kalatian Navy Ships approached the small Kingdom of New Neverge, Under direct orders of King Andrade II they were to completely annex the nation so that they become a Colony of Kalatianburg.

Inside the King Castle more plans were in the process.

King: We Shall Havith thou lands of the most northern islands near our colony’s on the Mainland of Borea.

Chief Of Forces: We can assemble a large force with ships from our colony’s on the Mainland as well as from Nesanda (Nacata).

King: I would like this accomplished by the day of Zula(October 22nd)

Chief Of Forces: Yes, Your Majesty as you wish

He proceeds to walk off with full permission to take over and seize West Borea (Atiland).

Imperium, Republic of Xagrurg
At the Presidential Manor in Imperium by the Parliament Building, President Rodney Wurock is reading some documents and signing some legislation papers into effect when a messenger from the Xagrurgian East Acturian Trade Company responsible for economical matters in the Xagrurgian colony on Acturia arrived to his office and dropped him off a letter. When he took a seat at his desk, he took out a letter opener and read the message:
“Dear Mr. Wurock,
This is Governor Lewis Mckindly of the Xagrurgian colony on Acturia reporting on our affairs over here. We are making a steady profit exporting furs and timber from the local environment and the natives haven’t given us much trouble thanks to your colonial policy of peaceful co-existence sir. The state capital here, Port Kharough, is prospering nicely from the commerce. However, we have been seeing an increased amount of pirate activity in the waters near our colony and they are becoming increasingly organized and well-armed. As a result, I wish to ask you to dispatch a Xagrurgian fleet to us to help deal with our pirate situation. I will be grateful if you choose to assist us your presidency.
From, Governor Lewis Mckindly”
After reading it, President Rodney Wurock begins drafting a reply to the governor.
“Dear Mr. Mckindly,
I will be obliged to protect the Xagrurgian people and interests in our colony in Acturia and so, I will dispatch a fleet comprised of 20 galleons and 15 carracks to you.
From, President Rodney Wurock”
After finishes drafting the letter, he seals it in an envelope and orders a messenger to send to the postal service to Actur and sends another letter to the Xagrurgian Department of War mobilizing the fleet.

After walking a couple of blocks, he arrives at the warehouse and harbor districts of the city, which are bustling with workers moving crates off and on boats and hundreds of merchant ships in the port. He walks into Warehouse #3, where he goes to find to a foreman. “Excuse me sir, can you spare a moment?,” the merchant asked. “Sure, but make it quick, I have to finish writing these documents up by lunch hour,” the foreman said. “Thank you, would you and some of your men be interested in loading some cargo onto my ship?” “I suppose so, for a price…how much Xagrurgis are we talking about?” “About $2,000.” The merchant proceeds to pull out his checkbook. “Sure, let’s head up to my office to talk business, I also got a quill up there.” They both walk up to the foreman’s office to discuss where the merchant’s ship is located in the port and what kind of cargo is being transported. “Alright, give me a couple of hours to get this all together with my crew, good day sir.” The merchant leaves the foreman to his own affairs while he walks towards his trade ship which is a reliable Fluyt-type sailing vessel, which he named the XNV Nimble. Able to twice the amount of cargo due to not being meant for wartime conversion and resulting in a smaller crew, it was the perfect ship for the merchant to use for his business ventures. Once he got onboard the Nimble, the crew welcomed him and he greeted them back. The cargo the foreman and his workers were loading onboard were crates of jewelry and rum, which he planned to sell in his voyage to Nuremskatel in Kostoria-Obertonia. A couple hours later, the foreman and his crew finished loading the crates onboard and watched as the Nimble left port and into the seas for Nuremskatel.

“Mr. Chawki, it is almost time for you to go on!”

“Oh, please tell the Royal Crown that tonight I shall be the narrator, and my actors will be the main dramatists leading ‘Two Princes of Asendavia’.”

It was the big night. The Royal King of Asendavia would be present for the showing of Abram Chawki’s premier play, ‘Two Princes of Asendavia.’

For a native of Iassath, Abram could not believe how his fortunes had changed over the past three years, when he was taken from his home by the Asendavian crown and forced into hard labor in the Arctic. A quiet individual, when the Asendavian soldiers had come into Iassath looking for able-bodied men, Abram barely uttered a squeak when the soldiers grabbed him and took him away, not allowing him to grab any of his books or pencils for the journey. Abram relied on his good memory to document the journey, as well as to remember his life in Iassath, and escape back to those happy days when the labor was harsh. Having his mind free, Abram recited his stories over and over again, and, upon hearing stories from other laborers, cataloged theirs as well. With the little free time he had, Abram developed these memories into fantastic tales, and practiced telling these tales to entertain his fellow laborers.

The overseers at the labor camp observed his talent, and though at first prohibiting him from telling the stories, one-by-one listened in and also were enraptured by the warmth emanating from his voice in the cold Arctic wasteland. Soon, Mr. Chawki did not do as much labor, and was given pen and paper to write down his stories. It was then that he refined his poetry and developed a style he would become known by. Some of the laborers had good oratory skills and could read, and Mr. Chawki developed their talents to act out his stories. Soon, he had enough men to form a troupe, and one day he went up to his overseers and requested he be set free, on the condition that he become a full-time playwright in service to the crown

His request was granted, and he and his troupe were ushered through the waste to travel to Stormharand. So, he was in service to the royal crown, and he, along with his small troupe of actors and stagehands, presented magnificent plays for the entertainment of the crown and its guests.

This was no more than six months ago, and finally, Mr. Chawki and his troupe had their big break. The King of Asendavia, returning from a long voyage, was in need of entertainment. He and his sons would be present for the show, along with other dignitaries the Royal Crown invited. It was going to be the grandest audience for Chawki, which was why he decided to return to an old story told as legend amongst the people of Asendavia, the tale of the two princes of old who spoiled their father’s wealth. Mr. Chawki would be the narrator for this tragedy, allowing his troupe to retain leading roles.

Chawki walked to the stage, bowed to where he believed the King to be, bowed to the audience standing off-stage, and invited several men, women, and children up on stage to sit in chairs along where the action will take place. Chawki spoke,

“Friends, nation, countrymen, lend me your ears,
I shall tell the tale of the arctic waste,
That plagued the house of Asendavia.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
Full of memories, and full of sadness.
And though, yesteryear, traveling the land,
Nearly met with a horrible demise.
Oh! Tortured at the hands of the master.
But the story he heard is far tragic.
For two noble princes of this fouled land,
Conspired to murder their patriarch,
Was it greed? Was it envy? Was it hate?
Or due to living in the arctic waste?
No, wait! My story shall be begun anon,
First we hear the minstrel band play their songs!”

As the introductory music played, Chawki walked off-stage to wait for his callback and begin the tragedy. This is it, it is what I have been waiting for, he thought. The King will enjoy my play, I know he will. For I shudder to think what will happen if he does not. I will resolve now, if the King enjoys my play, I will request I be allowed to travel the world, conduct more plays, and gather up the finest minds and actors to eventually return to Asendavia in glory.

Donald Curow, a newspaper editor from the Imperium Daily Mail, takes his seat in a theater in Stromharad to watch this intriguing play from a new playwright. Supposedly, this will be one of his greatest plays and he had been enlisted by the Asendavian Crown for his grand storytelling skills, and since Donald was already traveling to Asendavia to see what can he use for his work news section of his paper, he decided to go to the play.

Estanis, Kingdom Of Vultuca April 20, 1551, I was running around the palace excited as today I Kevin Vulta III would be crowned king of Vultuca today at 10:30 am as my Father, Kevin Vulta II Would resign due to his disease the doctors found in him and realizing there was no point running a nation when dieing so he would give the throne to me since my Brother Gala Was interested in the stars and not being the ruler so i gladly took the throne, as I watched from outside my room I could see the Harbor filled with Vultucas Finest Galleons and there it was the Ship named after me, The Kevin was vultucans most powerful and largest Warship and I knew one day I would sail it into battle against our enemies and rivals my Sister came it to congratulate me on the promotion I was getting she was nicer than my other siblings and was a popular among the people then my servant Leona Called and said the ceremony was starting and it began with Asendavias Popular Monarch Anthom and then at 10:30 am I was crowned King during the next few days we would celebrate in dances and feasts and then I would meet her, the most beautiful women I have ever seen her name was Riley Conna and she saw me and we had eye contact and from that day on we would become best friends and would end up getting married later on.

Ramus, Kingdom of Vultuca May 8, 1551, Today was the day where I would join my brother’s cousins and uncles in the Vultucan Navy as my family has been doing for centuries The New King has asked me since our family is a talented line of sailors and navigators to sail the Galleon “Hydra” to explore new lands and expand I would greatly accept his offer.

Chernz colony, Kingdom of Vultuca May 3, 1551, today I would start my fleet going back to vultuca after successful campaigns in the area I knew it would take us about 1 month to reach home so i would pack more cargo and use the new sail styles we have acquired in our battles but today we got word that the king wanted us to come back so today we started sailing back to Vultuca.

“Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.”

Prince Isaac Matias Ortega Durand, Sovereign of Ivlya and Commander of Its Armies, paused for a moment to ponder the words of Jesus, as written by Matthew.

Despite coming from his Lord and Savior, something about these words seemed to not fit with Ivlya. It was a nation bordered by enemies, not a speck of its land touching the sea. From the militantly Vayan Catholic Stratarin, to the Islamic jihadist state Bourun, to the random assorted tribes that would often come down from the north to plague the Principality’s people. Beset from all sides, without relief, without aid, the light that shone from Ivlya was dimmed and eclipsed.

As Durand considered his thinking more, a resolve awoke within him. Even if their light barely shone, Ivlya would act as though it was brighter than the sun. It would obey the Lord and His Word, as always. It would refuse to back down to heathens and harlot churches. It would thrive and endure, against all enemies.

And if not? Then the citizens of this unknown yet unbowed nation would rejoice with their Maker early.

As he finished Matthew 5, he stood slowly. Sighing, Durand returned to his duties.

With new Men the 3 most powerful generals in vultuca embark for a full-on expansion into northern Gondwana each general having 5 ships and they will land and colonize any land that is free as push out of the coast they yell out Vultuca! they will expand the empire and double its size on the first week they conqueror the following: https://imgur.com/a/itnUs

It was a dark time in the Kormistazic empire. It looked as if the capital, Fort Noct, could not be taken back. Several counter attacks had been launched, by sea and by land, to no avail against the superior Morstaybishlian legions. Fort Sekan was on the brink of surrender, not having the barracks and naval capacity to last much longer against the continuous wave assault. The last great fortress cities of the west, previously neglected over the prosperous eastern regions, now frantically prepared; every one stockpiling food, cannon, and crossbows in preparation for the inevitable Morstaybishlian sieges.

Instead of an emperor, the empire was now lead by a joint council of the remaining royal kin. They had fled to Aura after the fall of Fort Noct, and now bickered among themselves about how they could possibly redeem the empire, though options were running out fast, and their demise almost looked unavoidable.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again! Fort Spector, Quiet Falls and Lae Lue will be able to repel the legions advance long enough to come to a truce with the Morsts,” said Monica Kalamitas, arrogant niece of the late emperor. “We may have lost Noct, but we will remain prosperous with what we have in the west.”

“And I’ll say this again! The walls of those cities were build a millennia ago to stop bows and siege towers, they wont last ten minutes against cannon and crossbows!” Replied the equally arrogant master general. “We need to coordinate with other kingdoms to lead more frequent and effective counter attacks. That’ll give us the time to come to a truce, not with those ancient relics you call city forts!”

“How dare you! my great-granddad wa-”

“SILENCE!” shouted Jalikan Antonitus, who whilst wasn’t related to the emperor directly, had served as his right-hand man for decades before his death. “This petty fighting will get us nowhere. General, you are right in saying the city forts are not strong enough, a single bombard could shatter the walls instantly, and the Morsts certainly have bombards. However, the other kingdoms of Aurora also fear the Morstaybishlian empire, and have their own old grudges against us too, and wont ally with us against them.”

“What do you suggest then?” Monica squawked.

“I don’t know, pray that Noct and Sek up above are working in our favour?” he sighed. “We’re nearing the point of no return, when we will be at the mercy of the Morsts. We must keep fighting, try hold what city forts we have, and pray that this isn’t the end for us…”

The curtains had closed, some light smattering of applause filled the room. “Two Princes of Asendavia” had just concluded; both princes had killed each other, tragically dueling to the death to avenge the death of their father, the king. Both princes believed their brother killed the king in order to take the crown. In reality, the story was even more tragic, it was the princes’ mother who killed the father, and after the princes’ deaths, she would seize the throne for her and her illegitimate child.

All that was left was Mr. Chawki to wrap up the play, with his signature invocation:

The wicked Queen, bringer of misery,
Called forth for the King’s crown, placed on her crown.
Her subjects gravely knelt in her presence,
And stayed kneeling as her daughter entered,
The fair maiden strode to join her mother.
Silence deafened as mother took her crown,
And placed it on the crown of her daughter.
Then all Asendavians could see why,
Both brothers and their father had to die.
The daughter looked down at her new subjects,
The royal family completely wrecked.
She called, “I am your ruler, what say you?”
“Long Live the Queen,” was the response that’s due.

Applause and cheers exploded from the stands, the play was a success! It was a story passed down in Asendavian oral history, but Mr. Chawki had a way to dramatize it. Chawki waited on stage for his actors to come out, and together they bowed multiple times to considerable roars of the crowd. But there was one man in the crowd he was most interested in, the King of Asendavia. He could not see the King in the crowd, but as the audience trickled out and the actors returned backstage, Mr. Chawki stayed onstage to wait for admirers to appear. There were a few press hands present, he could see outlines of them writing into their notes. My next step is to take all my stories and transcribe them, but I will need some assistance with that, seeing as I cannot scribe. Perhaps the King may assist me. I do hope he appears to congratulate me.


The labor camp that Abram Chawki had previously occupied contained another prisoner, one that has been overlooked thus far. This man has importance to Mr. Chawki, because it was he who developed the oratory style that Chawki has emulated. Not as gifted in poetry and stage presence as Chawki, he nevertheless is an incredible storyteller. His name is Sir Michael Hamm, a quiet individual, imprisoned for being on the King’s bad side. He and Abram Chawki had collaborated on the stories that were story-boarded by Sir Hamm and then later told by Mr. Chawki. When Mr. Chawki was released from the camp, he neglected to tell his benefactors about Sir Hamm.

Sir Hamm would be released from the camp soon, and he had several stories he needed to tell.

Donald Curow, impressed by the newcomer’s performance and writing skills, decides to talk to Abram Chawki to get his backstory and why he decide to become a playwright. “Good evening sir, I am from the Imperium Daily Mail. May I ask a couple of questions?”
After a couple of days roughing it on the icy seas, the merchant ship finally arrives in Nuremskatel. The sailors are a bit shaken, but not too much as they’ve served in the Xagrurg Republican Navy beforehand. Most of them head to the local tavern to get drunk and some go to the back alleys to get a little “action” with the locals. Johnny Brown heads into the marketplace to begin selling his cargo.
Fort Litiva, Port Kharough
The 2,000-men regiment stationed at the fort are manning the walls and doing the occasional drill, with Private Hidja running 20 laps around the compound because he didn’t report to roll call earlier in the morning. Otherwise, it’s pretty normal, with not much action happening. Suddenly, several of the fort’s watchmen report 5 galleons and 12 brigantines coming at the fort, and they have skulls for their flags. The fort is suddenly thrown into alert status and men begin to close the gate and man the cannons and walls.

It had been a massacre.

The Battle of Rivilne (historical note: technically, it was only fought near Rivilne) had not been much of a battle at all. It had been the ruthless extermination of a pitifully outmatched foe.

And as all battles near human homes tended to end, now was the time for plunder

Mavra Starikova, Empress of the Strataric Empire and widow of the deceased Emperor Vsevolod Starikov, stood in the center of Rivilne, watching as her men systematically looted the defenseless houses, killing those who would stand in their way.

The weak Ivlyan Principality, of course, would view what had transpired here today as barbarism. To Mavra, it was simply war.

She noticed one of her soldiers, an arm menacingly outstreched, striding after a small, weak woman. Though the simpering of the Ivlyan woman was aggravating to Mavra’s ears, the empress nevertheless called out, “Leave her!” in Strataric. Snapping to attention, the man immediately ceased and turned away.

The Ivlyan, looking after him fearfully for several seconds, began to crawl towards Mavra, uttering profuse thanks. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like. The Ivlyans used a corrupted, primitive version of the proud Strataric language, making comprehensibility often somewhat poor.

Mavra smiled as a serpent smiles to a rodent, and knelt down to the woman’s level. “Don’t thank me yet,” she whispered, knowing that the Ivlyan couldn’t understand her. The empress then stood and beckoned over a lieutenant. “After you have looted the city, burn it to the ground. Suffer not a Troitsan heretic to live.” As he nodded, she turned and strode away.

The flames vibrantly roared against the moonlight night, any human screams long since extinguished. Mavra continued to watch for several more minutes, before wheeling her horse about and riding back to her men.

Conquest was an impatient master, after all, and hardly had too much time to entertain an empress’s pyromaniacal tendencies.

Somewhere in the Middle of the North East Pacific Ocean, September 11, 1551, Captians Journal Entry 420 section 42 After 3 Months of sailing we have spotted driftwood and debris in the water
2 days later we spot seagulls meaning we are getting close to Asendavia! After centuries of isolation from our ancestors we will embark and land their and visit our ancestors.

September 13, 1551 we landed in a island chain, not asendavia but we established a colony and town and would rest here for about 3 months

James Stewart looked out the window and sighed. Winter was coming in Atlae, and the court fortune tellers and alchemists all predicted that due to the sinful ways of Atlae, the spirits of nature would be commanded to withhold their supply of calorique, leading to a cool winter.

Of course, the sins were not coming from the House of Stewart. They were clearly coming from the House of Hauskarls and Aleksands, what with their untraditional ways.

But James Stewart, the resident Cartographer, was called away from making globes and was to find a way to find a reliable supply of calorique and phlogiston for the House of Stewart while the rest were in the cold. And he gladly took the offer.

It was easy, he thought. The Creator wouldn’t dare withhold calorique from the Stewarts. He just needed to find the places where calorique was naturally distributed.

He had heard stories from the peasants, shivering in the cold, that there was some sort of spring, of sort that would spew forth hot water. Of course, none existed up north, but one could sail.

He unrolled the parchment map, yellow and crinkly from age. He was sure that these springs of calorique-saturated water would be found in the uncharted territories of Southwest Atlantia.

And so his answer was South. “South down yonder,” he promised, convincing the nobles to fund a huge expedition with many ships to find a source.
[hr]The docks of Atlaerskoiy were wet with saltwater, but that did not deter the crowd who watched the grand expedition, led by James Stewart himself.

The lines were cut, and the huge ships sailed away.

After a year of massive military numbers growing, vultucas military was ready for their next plans, Operation Shinkia, Value, Rogue & Paragon, a step to expand their empire, the following areas would be invaded with mass numbers of vultucan troops. General Alaba and his men are abou 10 miles of the coast of one of their targets, they wait in silence for their objective, capture the coast and set up a trade colony their

(Joint post with Furnifold)

Abram Chawki was still standing up, watching the crowd clear out, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Donald Curow was behind him with a notepad, when he asked “Good evening sir, I am from the Imperium Daily Mail. May I ask a couple of questions?”

Abram Chawki: “You may sir, but I must ask a question first. I do not know what the Imperium Daily Mail is, regrettably. Are you located in Stormharand?”

Donald Curow: “No sir, I am from the city of Imperium, the capital of the Xagrurgian Republic located in Southern Aurora. So, to start off my interview, what was the spark that served as the catalyst for you creating this work of art?”

Abram Chawki: “I see, I am not familiar with Aurora unfortunately. Perhaps sometime I will be blessed to visit. But to answer your question, all the inspiration came from those who acted today. In my time in an Arctic labor camp, I was told the rich oral tradition of Asendavia, and took the stories to put action to words. I do thank you very much for the praise, I am beyond humbled at this time.”

Donald proceeds to jot down the statements on his notepad. “Can you tell how you ended up in an arctic labor camp?”

Abram Chawki: “Well, I am originally from the nation of Iasseth. I don’t know why I was taken, but soldiers invaded my town and abducted me and a group of other able-bodied men. I do not know what became of the others, but I was the only one sent to the labor camp in Asendavia.”

Donald Curow: “Do you harbor any resentment to the Asendavian government for treating as essentially a slave, working with the deadly and dangerous conditions of the Arctic?”

Abram Chawki: “No, the Royal Court has been most appreciative. I believe that this was all part of a divine plan, and I only owe my growth because of the graces of the Royal Court, the King, and my fellow troupemates. I would have never learned of the rich folklore these proud people are versed in, had I not endured the Arctic conditions.”

Donald Curow: “Do you plan on visiting other nations to write other plays?”

Abram Chawki: “Oh by the Kings grace, someday I wish to earn enough to see what life is like outside this cold climate. I have been here for months, though I feel like I have aged lifetimes. Learning about other cultures will only strengthen what I can humbly offer, in service to the King of course.”

Donald Curow: “Well, this concludes my interview with you. Good day to you sir.” Donald Curow proceeds to leave the building to head back to his boardinghouse.

“Thank you…” Abram weakly called out to the quickly moving figure. He sure does move quickly, must be a cultural thing. Chawki turned and walked backstage, satisfied with how the interview went, but unsatisfied that no one else came to talk with him. “Hey all,” he called out to his troupe-mates. “I finished up an interview with a presshand, and I wanted to express his appreciation to all of you. I certainly could not do it without you, and it makes me happy that you all stuck with me over the long haul. We’re making a name for our troupe!”

One of the troupe members piped up. “Abram, you know it would help us make a name for ourselves if we actually had a name. What do you think?”

The others murmured in approval. Abram thought for a little bit, then had an idea. “Well, since we are in service to the King, and we are all men, let us call ourselves 'The King’s Men!” The rest of the troupe seemed to enjoy the name. Abram realized what he needed to do.

He turned around and ran, hoping to catch Donald before he left. Gasping, he yelled out to Donald, “Wait, Mr. Curow! Put the name of our troupe in your article please. It’s 'The King’s Men.”

Before Donald left the building, he heard someone yelling for his name behind him. He turned around and saw the playwright running towards him and telling him his troupe’s name , “The King’s Men.” Donald thanks him and says “Thank you, I knew I forgot something. Is there anything else you need to tell me before I leave for my boardhouse?”

Still catching his breath, Chawki replied, “no, that’s everything. Thank you for your kind words and your interview.”

“Alright then, good day to you again Mr. Chawki.”
Nuremskatel, Kostoria-Obertonia
After selling a couple crates of jewelry and textiles, Johnny Brown and his ship’s crew head back onto the cargo ship and set sail for Asendavia.
Having some forewarning beforehand by the lookout and reports of pirate activity, the fort’s personnel were ready for the pirates and begin firing their cannons at the ships, managing to hit 2 of the galleons but the pirates respond back with multiple broadsides, smashing the fort’s walls and killing several men. Private Hidja, who only recently joined the Xagrurgian Colonial Security Force, wasn’t very battle-hardened and so he was frozen with fear and shock while chaos was erupting around him. Meanwhile, his sergeant was trying to slap him out of it.