From A History of the Decline of Man, by Alexei Vallis
The grand scheme of the Scions of the Apocalypse, as we are all now aware, was not to be fulfilled. Whether they were even capable of mastering the technology to launch their missile is a matter in definite question. However, even had they done so, they would have found that their missile was, in fact, a dud. This, they never discovered, having self-destructed the device with heavy explosives when the Liberal Salvation Front launched their bloody, though decisive, assault on the Scions’ compound.
A large army of the LSF’s soldiers struck with little warning against the entrenched forces of the Scions of the Apocalypse. The battle lasted for over an hour, as the LSF rushed to breach the defensive palisade of the compound and prevent the cult’s deranged leadership from destroying their prize. From reliable sources of the battle, there is no question that the forces engaged were significant. Altogether, perhaps three hundred men and women fought with unshakeable determination. Of course, the superior training and equipment of the LSF, led by their Grand Marshal himself, inevitably carried the day. This, however, was not without many casualties, and not before the Scions of the Apocalypse managed to destroy their missile, loading it with so many explosives that, although the rocket’s charge was faulty, the resultant destruction nonetheless obliterated scores of the cult, and most of their base.
Finally, however, the Silo had fallen into the hands of the Liberal Salvation Front. Whether there were more missiles within its depths, and whether the LSF had the capabilities to use them was cause for concern for the whole of the Borderlands. With other missiles in working condition, the LSF would have total freedom to strike wherever they wished.
[Rumours travel with nomad traders that war looms in the Borderlands. Much loss of life, and many battles have been fought within the week, while stories emerge that soldiers are mobilising for conquest]
Borderlands - History and Game Thread
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- The Sisters of Solace
- Servant of the Land
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Tue Dec 04, 2007 4:15 am
- Location: The Convent of the Overflowing Chalice
Slowly cresting a dune in the wastes, Mother Succour’s company finally had their first view of home, of the Covent of the Overflowing Chalice. It had been a difficult two weeks, with the fear of the flock at the Abbatoir and the misuse of the Pillory there, the disdain of the members of the second settlement they visited, and the company hoped the dejection they felt as they traveled back to the convent would lift once their gaze fell upon their destination. Instead, the smoking burnt out ruins of the Social Fair greeted their hungry gaze. The wailing of the injured, seen to by the now lone chapter of Sisters of Mercy at the convent due to the deaths of their fellows, assailed their ears.
The chapter of the Sisters of Mercy with Mother Succour looked at her for approval to move on ahead, to get to the convent as quickly as they could to set their own infirmary tents and help their fellows in the care of the flock. Nodding solemnly, Mother Succour released them from her entourage, and the Sisters rushed forth to set camp and be informed of the status of the convent by their fellows.
Lifting her head, Mother Succour slowly approached the convent, drinking in the devastation around her. What had happened? Where was Lucretia Sora, who was left in charge in her absence?
At the gates, Sister Lucretia awaited her. Mother Succour noted the drawn face, the hollow eyes, the haunted expression upon her face. Here in front of her stood a woman willing to assume all responsibility for what greeted her superior on her return, and Mother Succour foresaw long hours of discussion yet ahead of her.
“Holy Mother, I…”
“Not now, Lucretia. It looks like the crises is past. Give me time to refresh myself, and I will see you in my study in an hour.”
****************************************************************
“…and then, they responded. Saying there is no contract implied between the governors and the governed in their sovereignty. No forum for debate. And that the “Army of the Union” will settle all disputes. Of course I refused their offer of sovereignty, as you instructed me to do once a reply saying such was forthcoming! But…I never imagined…” The words trailed silently off, as the pacing, distraught Lucretia Sora wrapped up her summary. “Holy Mother, I beseech thee. Release…”
“No.”
“Holy Mother!!” a wail from the distraught Sister filled the chambers.
“Again, no. You are needed. Not only by the Order, but by me. Who else in the Order has the historical knowledge, or knows how to find it, to compose the words I will need to say to fight the demoralization currently rampant among the community? You must realize your worth, focus yourself, and help me with words of inspiration for my sermon on Sunday.”
Watching the face of her Undersecretary closely, Mother Succour felt her own concern vanish as she saw the set determination enter Lucretia Sora’s eyes. With relief she thought to herself, “Good. Without that one, much would be lost. Now to bring the rest back to themselves as well.”
The chapter of the Sisters of Mercy with Mother Succour looked at her for approval to move on ahead, to get to the convent as quickly as they could to set their own infirmary tents and help their fellows in the care of the flock. Nodding solemnly, Mother Succour released them from her entourage, and the Sisters rushed forth to set camp and be informed of the status of the convent by their fellows.
Lifting her head, Mother Succour slowly approached the convent, drinking in the devastation around her. What had happened? Where was Lucretia Sora, who was left in charge in her absence?
At the gates, Sister Lucretia awaited her. Mother Succour noted the drawn face, the hollow eyes, the haunted expression upon her face. Here in front of her stood a woman willing to assume all responsibility for what greeted her superior on her return, and Mother Succour foresaw long hours of discussion yet ahead of her.
“Holy Mother, I…”
“Not now, Lucretia. It looks like the crises is past. Give me time to refresh myself, and I will see you in my study in an hour.”
****************************************************************
“…and then, they responded. Saying there is no contract implied between the governors and the governed in their sovereignty. No forum for debate. And that the “Army of the Union” will settle all disputes. Of course I refused their offer of sovereignty, as you instructed me to do once a reply saying such was forthcoming! But…I never imagined…” The words trailed silently off, as the pacing, distraught Lucretia Sora wrapped up her summary. “Holy Mother, I beseech thee. Release…”
“No.”
“Holy Mother!!” a wail from the distraught Sister filled the chambers.
“Again, no. You are needed. Not only by the Order, but by me. Who else in the Order has the historical knowledge, or knows how to find it, to compose the words I will need to say to fight the demoralization currently rampant among the community? You must realize your worth, focus yourself, and help me with words of inspiration for my sermon on Sunday.”
Watching the face of her Undersecretary closely, Mother Succour felt her own concern vanish as she saw the set determination enter Lucretia Sora’s eyes. With relief she thought to herself, “Good. Without that one, much would be lost. Now to bring the rest back to themselves as well.”
![Image](https://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l204/GatorPam/Borderlands/signature_mother_succours.jpg)
- The Sisters of Solace
- Servant of the Land
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Tue Dec 04, 2007 4:15 am
- Location: The Convent of the Overflowing Chalice
The Sanctuary in the convent was filled to capacity. The congregants had streamed in, fearful, demoralized, and seeking solace. Even the communion offering of the body and blood did little to lift the spirit of the community, despite its minute nourishment.
Regally rising, Mother Succour approached the lectern and shuffled the notes Lucretia Sora worked diligently on. Her people needed encouragement and hope. She had little else to offer. Strengthening her own resolve, she looked out over the despairing faces, and started speaking…
And also with you!!!
Regally rising, Mother Succour approached the lectern and shuffled the notes Lucretia Sora worked diligently on. Her people needed encouragement and hope. She had little else to offer. Strengthening her own resolve, she looked out over the despairing faces, and started speaking…
Lifting her head from her notes, Mother Succour tried to judge the effect her words had on her community. As with Lucretia Sora when she first returned home, she first saw dismay and then deep determination settle on to the faces of her community. Her heart lightened as she got the expected response, but shouted in unison as if in defiance at the RU…It is good to be home.
Despite what I have returned to, it is good to be home.
I refer not to the destruction around us. With effort, resources, and time, we will replace what was destroyed.
Nor do I refer to the loss of our brethren. While we mourn their loss, they would want us to forge onward.
I refer to the loss of faith, the lack of confidence I feel when I walk among you. The despair I see spilling from your eyes. It has no place here!!!
We are not destroyed. We are not humbled. We will not submit.
The ones who bombed us are not our sovereigns. What have they shown that gives them the right to rule over us? Their military strength? That makes them terrorists, not sovereigns. The ruler of a city long ago had this to say about terrorists…
When you leave here today, head home with the purpose of enjoying your life. Know that your neighbors, friends, and leaders are all facing the same challenges, and that we will prevail. Do not constantly scan the skies in fear. Look forward, not back. We are unified, and in our unification we are stronger.Terrorism is based on the persistent and deliberate violation of fundamental human rights. With bullets and bombs - and now with airplanes - terrorists deny the dignity of human life. Terrorism preys particularly on cultures and communities that practice openness and tolerance. Their targeting of innocent civilians mocks the efforts of those who seek to live together in peace as neighbors. It defies the very notion of being a neighbor.
This massive attack was intended to break our spirit. It has not done that. It has made us stronger, more determined and more resolved.
Yes. No doubt they will be back. No doubt they will attack again. We must accept that. But, we must not be crippled by that knowledge. We must strive forward, strengthening the Order and supporting one another. We will find methods to resist them. We will find ways to make them regret they ever approached us with their demands. We will prevail!!!
Peace be with you.
And also with you!!!
![Image](https://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l204/GatorPam/Borderlands/signature_mother_succours.jpg)
TURN TWELVE
From A History of the Decline of Man, by Alexei Vallis
In the days following the destruction of the Scions of the Apocalypse, and as rumours of a major offensive by the Republican Union began to emerge, a messianic preacher began to deliver impassioned sermons to any and all who would listen. Passing through numerous settlements, from camp fire to camp fire, and marching boldly through blighted deserts, this mysterious figure brought his terrible message.
The downtrodden and the desperate, the mean and the predatory, even the isolationist and educated paid him too much heed. Within the space of a few short weeks, the Borderlands were feverish with the sickness of his philosophy.
His message was simple - Punish the Weak. Chants in shadowy ghost towns, voices on garbled transmissions, even words emblazoned on posters seemed to aid and spread this diseased idea. Only the strong could forge civilisation in the harsh wastelands, and the weak were to be the metal for smelting to fulfill this gutter creed.
[For the next four turns, every faction's populace seems gripped by a desire to see conquest perpetrated in its name. Every player who attacks a human target scores points on a 1-1 scale for every element eliminated. 3-1 scale for elements eliminated belonging to other players. Seizing a settlement earns 5 points if NPC, and 10 if PC. The person who scores the highest will have triple PEOPLE growth on turn 16. Those who rank second and third will have double PEOPLE growth. All others will have 0 PEOPLE growth. Enjoy]
From A History of the Decline of Man, by Alexei Vallis
In the days following the destruction of the Scions of the Apocalypse, and as rumours of a major offensive by the Republican Union began to emerge, a messianic preacher began to deliver impassioned sermons to any and all who would listen. Passing through numerous settlements, from camp fire to camp fire, and marching boldly through blighted deserts, this mysterious figure brought his terrible message.
The downtrodden and the desperate, the mean and the predatory, even the isolationist and educated paid him too much heed. Within the space of a few short weeks, the Borderlands were feverish with the sickness of his philosophy.
His message was simple - Punish the Weak. Chants in shadowy ghost towns, voices on garbled transmissions, even words emblazoned on posters seemed to aid and spread this diseased idea. Only the strong could forge civilisation in the harsh wastelands, and the weak were to be the metal for smelting to fulfill this gutter creed.
[For the next four turns, every faction's populace seems gripped by a desire to see conquest perpetrated in its name. Every player who attacks a human target scores points on a 1-1 scale for every element eliminated. 3-1 scale for elements eliminated belonging to other players. Seizing a settlement earns 5 points if NPC, and 10 if PC. The person who scores the highest will have triple PEOPLE growth on turn 16. Those who rank second and third will have double PEOPLE growth. All others will have 0 PEOPLE growth. Enjoy]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.
![Image](https://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l204/GatorPam/Watchy%20images/watchies2009.gif)
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.
![Image](https://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l204/GatorPam/Watchy%20images/watchies2009.gif)