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Forum Games and Roleplaying / King on the Mountain: A Game of Adventure, Lordship, and Goats
« on: January 18, 2015, 12:55:33 am »
You stand on the cliff, the Staff which symbolizes your rule clutched firmly in your hand. Your Robes of Office billow majestically in the wind as proud eyes survey your beloved kingdom, from the Rocky Crags of the north to the Region of the Three Trees in the south, from the Lake of Grass and Flowers to the east to the Land of the Vast Rock to the west. Truly, no lord could hope for a greater realm than yours.
Your eyes turn to the Lowlands and you smile, recalling the troubled days of your youth, remembering the time your spent crawling and scratching to climb to your current social position. You think fondly of more recent times, when you won a hard-fought victory over the previous king--a cruel tyrant who, it was said, hunted his subjects for sport or even for food--and forced him to fly from his lands, claiming his kingdom for your own.
A tug at your sleeve returns you to the modern day, and you turn to see your chief advisor, regarding you with solemn eyes set on an aged face, whose white beard gave him an air of experience and wisdom even you could not hope to match. You greet him with a nod, and ask him of the state of the realm, and the condition of your subjects.
"Baaaaaaa," he says.
You nod at this sage advice and examine the sky. "You're right," you say, a cold wind chilling your heart. "Even now, on our day of victory, a storm brews to sweep all we have worked for away from us."
What do you do, great king?
Your eyes turn to the Lowlands and you smile, recalling the troubled days of your youth, remembering the time your spent crawling and scratching to climb to your current social position. You think fondly of more recent times, when you won a hard-fought victory over the previous king--a cruel tyrant who, it was said, hunted his subjects for sport or even for food--and forced him to fly from his lands, claiming his kingdom for your own.
A tug at your sleeve returns you to the modern day, and you turn to see your chief advisor, regarding you with solemn eyes set on an aged face, whose white beard gave him an air of experience and wisdom even you could not hope to match. You greet him with a nod, and ask him of the state of the realm, and the condition of your subjects.
"Baaaaaaa," he says.
You nod at this sage advice and examine the sky. "You're right," you say, a cold wind chilling your heart. "Even now, on our day of victory, a storm brews to sweep all we have worked for away from us."
What do you do, great king?