NationStates Jolt Archive

Nanakaland Proudly Presents
A Tale From the Days of Old
The Sands of Change Part I
The Legend of the Nanakan Empire
In the Days of Old, two thousand years ago, one empire was dominant. Ruled by a dynasty of elven warrior kings, it conquered much of the unknown world. Based in the Midlands (now the region The Kingdom of the Midlands), the one thing that stood between the Nanakan Empire and world domination was a vast desert north of the Midlands peninsula. The advanced elven and human armies would then be able to invade the less advanced civilizations and gain countless new lands.

King Feralon didn't need to think twice before authorizing the march through the desert. Thousands of soldiers, both human and elven, advanced. However, orcs from the north also wanted the desert. They saw this army of elves and humans as a threat and they wanted to wipe it out. Full scale war in the desert was soon to break out.

Meanwhile, within the restless cities of Nanakapolis and Port Nanaka, a secret society was formed. This shadow organization planned to do the unthinkable - massicre the elven royalty of the Nanakan Empire. They were looking for the right moment to massicre the royalty and start a revolt - a loss in the north - even if they had to make the Nanakan Empire lose the battle...

[OOC: The OOC/signup thread for this and other RPs of Nanakaland is The OOC (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=142423).]

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Mount Grobbadam, Orcish territory

The traditional seat of Orcish power was never what you’d call “homely”. Rising up from the barren plain, the fortified mountain was at any given time filled with uncounted thousands of Greenskinz; slaving away at numerous forges or picking fights with one another around one of the great bonfires. The smoke from these, combined with the region’s volcanic activity, put the whole area in perpetual twilight.

Situated between “Da Big Sandy” to the south and the fertile lands to the north, Grobbadam’s strategic importance well recognized ages ago by a long-lost human empire. They had begun to fortify the mountain when the Orcs first swept into the region and promptly took it for themselves. Never ones to waste an opportunity, the Greenskinz continued the construction all the way up to the present day, resulting in a mountain ringed with battlements, redoubts and fortified gates. Within, a warren of tunnels connected the forges, armories and barracks.

Big Cleava Brunk didn’t have time to marvel at the defenses, nor did he particularly care as he stomped down one of the tunnels, shoving smaller Greenskinz out of his way. Bursting into one of the outer guardhouses, he confronted the source of his hurry. In front of him squatted a smaller, leaner Orc, surrounded by his larger cousins. He wore the smallest of loincloths and had a bone of some sort shoved through his nose; even here he had a dusty look to him. A Dezert Orc. The guard Captain smacked himself in the forehead, the Orcish equivalent to a salute. “Dis the dezert Orc dat come up from da south, Big Cleava. Say hez got nooz fer ya.” Brunk gave him a grunt of acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving the Dezert Orc.

The messenger eventually responded, his sun-addled brain dragging up the message he was supposed to deliver. “Hulloz Big Cleava. Weze hear of yoo in Big Sandy, taut you’d like da know what weze see. Big group of Shineyz movin’ north, kickin’ up clouds we seez long ways off.” His head once again sunk, his eyes going back to staring at nothing in particular. Brunk’s eyes slowly left the messenger and fixated themselves on the Orc captain.

“Dees dezert boyz never speak rights, Cleava. He showed up when yooz was out huntin’, on sum scrawny pig n told us da same story.” The captain shifted his weight onto his other foot. “I sent some of me own boyz down south ta check it outz; dey say da same thing. Bunch of Nanakies movin’ towards us, drivin’ off da dezert boyz. Full armer too, no light weightz.”

Brunk stood silently for a minute, his mind slowly contemplating the situation. Finally, he came to a decision. “Call up all da War Bosses, Big Wumps, and Bashars. Da Nanakies be makin’ their move on da Big Sandy. Once dey take dat they’ll be makin’ der move on us. Gotta gets all da clans together and smarsh in da Big Sandy.” The Orcs saluted and rushed off. Within minutes Boar riders were racing out from Mount Grobbadam, spreading the word of the Imperial advance. Soon every Clan under Brunk’s rule would gather at the Mount, and from there march against “da Nanakies”.

How do you change the colors?

[ size=15][ color=purple][ b]Nanakaland Proudly Presents[ /b][ /color][ /size]


Thats how he does it.

Foot of Mount Grobbadam, Orcish Territory.
Within a few days of the Boar Boyz riding out, most of the Clans under Brunk's control had marched on the Mount. There a Big War Meetin' had commenced. It had been strained at times, with several of the Bosses not giving a pigs arse what happened in Da Big Sandy, but they had been wumped into line by Brunk's axe handle.

Now the Big War Meetin' was over. Most of the serious arguements had been settled (for now) and the great mass of troops were ready to march. Brunk looked over them from the top of his Boar; finding everything satisfactory he gave the drummers a nod. The great Orcish drums, 5 feet across, began to boom out across the plain as several thousand Orcs moved south, following the sound of the drums.

Brunk turned to the Dezert Orc who was riding next to him. It was a common belief among the Upper tribes that the Dezert Orcs were a cowardly lot, but Brunk wasn't entirely sure of that. "Yooz shur you boyz gonna fight wit us against da Nanakies and not run like little piggies? Mez no like it if yoo break en run on us when da elfs and hummies show sum backbone."

The Dezert Orc, by now known as Shuluckboyagga (He-wit-bone-tingy-stuck-up-noze), gave the Big Cleava a grunt. "Yoo nortorcs tink yer da big baddies of da world. Tink we dezert boyz run like elf kiddies. But yooz never seen da Dezert Boyz fight. We no wear armer dat cook yoo like pig in da sun. Lets us move fast. We'll keep da Nanakies busy in da rear, yooze just gotta barsh em in da front." Brunk looked at Shuluck cock-eyed for a minute or so, then went back to keeping his Boar from charging into the mass of infantry that flanked them.

[Hooked for Wombat Bait]

WN

Bubblywoosh Oasis
Gnomish town in the deep desert
(its about the size of 4 large residential blocks – modern that is)

A normal looking desert gnome (that is: grayish-black skin, just a little shorter than a dwarf with a lean and stringy build, and short wispy sun-bleached hair) was walking down the wide street – bustling with other gnomes - until he stops suddenly, and looks up at the town courthouse.

Innydrit sighed nervously and took a step forward, crushing a clockwork rat beneath his hard metal shell of a boot. Those things are everywhere nowadays, where are they coming from? He barely spared a glance as the accused criminal continued into the tall and intimidating courthouse.

Innydrit’s were simple misdemeanors, two counts of “Guilty Bystanding”. Which meant, quite simply, that someone thought he should have known better.

Innydrit had held back when Iblis and Kawaresksenjajok had caught fire. Sure, he’d had some bad experiences with explosions, and he didn’t particularly like the pair that was currently running around screaming madly for someone to help. But they were Bubblywoosh citizens, and he should have done something about it.

The charges sounded silly enough, but the council was known for outrageous rulings. The Bubblywoosh court system was more of a spectator sport than fair interpretation of the law.

Innydrit reached the final step at the entrance to the building and almost fell back down as he stepped on another clockwork animal – a large tarantula this time. Blurting out a series of nasty sayings, he stepped into the doorway and was promptly knocked back to tottering over the edge of the stairs as a series of uniformed militia officers raced out to spread the news of yet another cataclysmic disaster about to befall the little town. What’s new…

Ore prospectors had spotted a massive block of shining Elves marching from the south. They were probably heading for the big Greenskinz mountain some kilometers north, but hey, gnomes were never caught unprepared...usually.
So the town militia was to be mobilized and at the ready, if by chance any raiders encountered the large town surrounded by massive walls cleverly disguised as dull boulders.

Micah looked at his people, they were tired. Though Isiah told him that the Divine had chosen him to lead thier people, he had a hard time believing it.

Micah was only sixteen, a young age for his people. Men of his age were supposed to be courting young ladies and wrestling among themselves, not leading a million people to some "promised land".

Isiah was dead now, and now Micah was alone. He was tired and bored. This stupid desert seemed to go on forever. He wanted to fight, that was his calling.

Suddenly his scouts came to him, "Micah, Micah! We have seen a great city, full of strange creatures with ears like swords!"

Micah was intruiged and gave command to his cousin Thomas. He would see this fabled civilization of Nanakaland.....

King Feralon's Camp, That Night
Baelemares was summoned to King Feralon's tent as the army camped out in the desert one night. The elf causiously walked in, not knowing what to expect.

"Baelemares," the king told the elf, "I have heard rumors of unrest in Nanakapolis and Port Nanaka - mainly humans. I know that the Defender of Royalty should be with the king, but I need you to keep order as the armies advance further north away from the Homeland. Take a legion with you. Occupation of our own cities may be neccissary."

"Yessir," Baelemares replied. "Should I go back south immediately?"

"Of course," said King Feralon. "You mustn't wait. I shall be perfectly fine without a bodyguard." Baelemares started to leave the king's tent. "Wait."

"What?" asked the Defender of Royalty.

"One more thing," the king explained. "I want you to make sure that my family doesn't get harmed while I'm gone."

"You have my word that no harm will come to your family," replied Baelemares as he left. He got on his horse and rode out back to Nanakapolis, a legion behind him.

[NOTE: If you were to read Man of the Skull (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=141177), which takes place in the modern era, you'll learn more about Baelemares (who has lived all of these years) and what eventually happens to the Nanakan Empire of old.]

Da Big Sandy, west of King Feralon's Camp
Mugyol sniffed the night breeze. It was hard picking up the Nanakies scent, what with him riding a boar, the secondmost flatulent creature in Da Big Sandy (the Dezert Boyz being the first). But it was there, off to the west. Mugyol gave the signal and the Dezert Boyz warband moved forward.

Their tribe had been scattered by the Nanakan advance, but the boar riders had quickly reformed and began shadowing the Imperial Army. Dezert Orcs were more covert than their northern cousins, preferring to raid and skirmish rather than fight in open battles. Now that night had fallen, the Boyz took their oppurtunity to strike back.

The 40-strong troop came to an abrupt halt as the sound of an entire legion on the move met thier ears. Infront of them they could see the long metal snake, moonlight barely reflecting off their armor. They could easily destroy the troop, if they knew they were coming. Mugyol was cofindant they didn't.

Their Boss's warcry bellowed across the dunes as the Boyz rushed forward, urging thier boars to move their bristly arses. Careening over a sand dune the Orcs rushed towards the side of the Nanakan column.

Innydrit had graciously forgone the potentially dangerous court proceedings in exchange for a term of service in the town militia. Besides, its not like Iblis and Kawaresksenjajok were seriously hurt. As Innydrit stood watch in an eastern (relative to the town) underground outpost, the other two were lying on beds drunk on what the Orcs might call "happyfuntime root".

As being the assistant floor sweeper, Innydrit was sweeping a crowd of small clockwork creatures out of the surveillance room when he noticed flickers of movement across the complex web of mirrors.

The Bubblywoosh underground surveillance system is a mind boggling maze of tunnels spread in a circular pattern around the gnome town - stopping just before the foot of the Orc mountain fortress. If anyone but a gnome stumbled across the tunnels they would be completely lost in a matter of seconds.
Small mirrors are placed above ground where they transfer light images down and through the system of tunnels to various centers spotted around the area.

The moon was quite bright that night, as apparently a boar-riding warband of Orcs could be seen all over Innydrit's room, looking quite angry and bloodthirsty - as most Orcs generally were. And according to the various notes written around the mirrors, those Orcs were riding over some particularly weak roofed tunnels.

"Eh, someone else will worry about it", he thought, "I can practically smell them from here."
Innydrit turned back around and accidentally crushed another clockwork creature - a larger reptile looking thing. Is it just me or are they getting more complex by the minute?

In a shower of sand, curses, and surprised oinks, Mugyol and most of his warband fell through ceiling of the gnomish tunnels. About half of the orcs landed in a crumpled heap on the tunnel floor, stunned for the moment. The remaining Orcs who stopped in time turned and fled, desperately trying to outrun the monster that had just swallowed their fearless leader and vanguard.

Back in the tunnel, the Boyz minds slowly adjusted to what had happened. As soon as it became apparent that their attack had been foiled they immediately set about each other with their cactus-clubs, every Orc blaming the others for the mishap. Eventually Mugyol regained some semblance of control, but not before one of the Boyz got a face full of cactus. "Stop fightin' yooz stupid lumps! Mez no know where wez at, but da Nanakies do." As his eyes adjusted to the subterrean light, he saw that the Boyz's fall had been broken by their mounts. "Our boarz er smarshed, so weze no riddin' out of 'ere. So startz marchin'!" Still grumbling, the Orcs stomped down the tunnel after their Boss.

[Double Post]

Baelemares' Legion
It all happened so fast. A few scouts heard something, but saw nothing. Then, some were sent to investigate and came back to Baelemares saying, "We fear that orcs are here. We heard crashing and saw orcs at the bottom of a tunnel. We must take a detour around this area immediately."

"Has anyone fallen down to this tunnel?" asked the elf.

"No, sir," a human replied. "Well, technically, one did, but we managed to pull him back up. That's why we say, 'We must take a detour around this area immediately.' There are orcs and trap tunnels."

"Very well," Baelemares said. "We march east and then south. We don't have much time to lose. Send word up to Feralon. There are orcs in the area." One elven scout rode his horse north to the main camp to spread the news and the rest of the legion went east....

OCC: Here is a work-in-progress factbook of the Greenskinz. It gives a breif description of the major factions as well as some other information.

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3138766

OCC: Well, I'm going to be out of town most of this weekend. I don't know if I can lay my hands on a computer where I'm going, so don't count on me posting until Sunday afternoon.

A multitude of metal clinks and clattering had signified the scattering of clockwork creatures in every direction as a particular section of tunnel collapsed. Just around the corner, a trio of desert gnomes had been immobilized by some falling debris – one completely covered, the other two with an arm or leg wedged in the heap.

Meanwhile, the militia was generally ignoring the cave-in, thinking the quite mentally impaired Orcs would climb back out of the tunnels or simply get lost and starve to death; except for the occasional Mole, there weren’t many flesh-and-bone animals roaming around the tunnels.

Some workers were quickly sent to the site after the Orcs and apparently Elvin scouts had investigated the area, and set about repairing the damage. Assisted, for no apparent reason, by a few clockwork ants that were about as tall as their shins.

The hopefully undiscovered gnomes had no wish to play any part in the wars of the tall warriors, but if it came to it, they sincerely hoped the shining Elves would succeed. A world full of thick-headed brutes that beat each other with cacti would certainly have no place for the technologically curious gnomes.

King Feralon's Camp, Later That Night
The elven scout rode on his horse gracefully and quickly. Before it had reached midnight, he had managed to arrive in King Feralon's Camp. He unmounted his horse and hurried over to the elven king. Sprinting, he dashed past countless tents until he reached the king's pavillion.

"Come in," Feralon said to the messenger. The scout stepped in and the king reconized the face. The king said, "I know you. Aren't you attached to Baelemares' Legion?"

"I have come to report something," the scout replied. "Orcs have been spotted to the west. The legion has run into a few. I think that it has begun."

"Ready camp," the king ordered. "I fear a battle may soon break out."

[OOC: Remember that both sides win and lose battles. It will eventually be fought to a stalemate (draw).]

Da Big Sandy, Orcish West Flank, Early-Morning

The infantry of Clan Pigstikka advanced ahead leisurely. Being less heavily armored than the Fleshcleaver warriors to the east, they moved more quickly under the desert sun, which was already burning down at this early hour. The impetuousness of their Big Pokka, Ratzbag, also had something to do with it. His Clan was loosely allied to Brunk’s, but Ratzbag wasn’t satisfied playing second fiddle in the north. A victory over the Nanakies would give him the prestige required to bring more chieftains under his banner and unseat the Fleshcleavers.

The mass of spearmen came to a halt as boar scouts approached. The Nanakan camp had been sighted several miles ahead! Not even considering the idea of waiting for reinforcement, Ratzbag gave the order to advance. The Orcs picked up the pace, all 1500 of them bearing down on Feralon’s camp.

“Do yooz tink weze can eats it?”

“How shuld Gurgl knowz? Mez can barely see in dis hole.” The two Orcs stared at the clockwork tarantula for a few more minutes. Them and their fellows had been wondering in the tunnels for several hours now, and hunger was beginning to set in. At this rate they would begin eating each other by the end of the day. While their stomach-canteens were mostly full, your average Orc could only go a few hours without killing something and eating it. But now that they had found this strange clicking thing…

Several minutes later…


”EAT IT ZOK! EAT ZOK! EAT IT ZOK!” Nearly a dozen Boyz were hunched in a circle, chanting over and over. In the center sat Zok, one of the duller raiders. He held the clockwork spider by one of its legs, trying not to get bit by the metal fangs. The peer pressure was starting to lay heavy on him, and he was hungry. With a sudden movement the Orcs head fell back, his tooth-filled maw opening wide, and in went the critter.

The other Boyz immediately became silent, as the sound of grinding teeth filled the tunnel. Zok’s jaws slowly moved back and forth, crushing the automaton. Then he stopped in mid-chew. His eyes began to fill up, sweat breaking out on his small brow. With a mighty “BLAARF!!”, Zok expelled the clockwork’s remnants onto the tunnel floor. The rest of the Boyz hooted with laughter, except for the few who had wagered a few shiney pebbles that Zok would actually eat the thing.

Dimly glowing eyes begin to appear behind the rowdy group of Greenskinz. In a few minutes perhaps a dozen or more clockwork creatures were now following the hopelessly lost Greenskinz in the gnomish underground. A tarantula could occasionally be seen scuttling along the roof of the tunneling, looking down at the big green monsters. Their numbers included the large tarantulas, iguana-lizards (as long as a gnome shin and ¼ as tall), rats, an ant or two, and a peculiar looking two-legged form the height and width of a desert gnome, too shadowed to make out clearly – its eyes glowed with the rest.

The collapsed tunnel had been nearly repaired by early morning, with just a few reinforcements to be done. With the exception of the wandering Greenskinz, and some slightly moist sand where the ground had caved in, it looked as if nothing had happened. Well, then there are the two gnomes that lasted the night, one still occasionally calling for help – but not heard by any of the repair team due to the blockage of the tunnel. They deemed the process of clearing away the rocks too boring; no sophisticated gadgets were needed and the clockwork ants weren’t very enthusiastic either. The other end of the trapped gnomes' current tunnel, however, is quite clear.

Bubblywoosh underground
Sector 37 ¾

The assistant floor sweeper was on his break, reading the Daily Woosh, and finally got tired of the glowing eyes watching from all around. He averted his eyes from the daily news, and looked around the room for a suitable pest-remover. Broom, cage, gas canister, flame ejector, pipe rifle, pneumatic-ham- ….ahHA! I knew that’d come in handy one day! Innydrit walked over to a corner of the maintenance chamber and picked up the bulky pneumatic-hammer – invented by none-other than himself – and proceeded to smash a clockwork tarantula or two before one jumped and bit him on the arm. In a few moments, the whole chamber was moving toward him. Innydrit grabbed the pipe-rifle after smashing another tarantula that jumped at him and broke out in a dead run across the chamber and through the door. A hoard of clockwork spiders nipping at his ankles.

[OOC: I don't want Innydrit to meet the lost Greenskinz]

[OOC: I'll try to post later today or tomorrow, but things have been busy lately.]

King Feralon's Camp
The nightwatchmen noticed orcs moving toward the camp. They blew their horns and sounded the alarms. A battle was going to break out soon. Ironically, the king and several legions had already left the camp, looking for the orcs to fight. Soon, the glistening of armor filled the night as hundreds of humans with swords moved to engage orcish forces. Elven scouts and knights mounted their horses and several wizards climbed to higher ground.

Innydrit had finally seemed to have gotten rid of the endless supply of metal creatures that had been plaguing him since yesterday – and just recently begun attacking him.

Except for the occasional scuttling to be heard outside of the chamber, there was only the sound of sloshing and dripping water as the dark skinned gnome half-hid, half-drowned in the sector cistern.

Feeling wet enough that needing a drink of water might never be a problem again, Innydrit drops down from the lip of the metal cistern and cautiously looks around the room for any sign of a clanking automaton. Quiet…Too quiet. Innydrit slowly tiptoes to the chamber’s exit and opens the door with a surprisingly loud creak. He steps out into the corridor inhabited by exactly 73 clanking, and staring, tarantulas. Innydrit hears a voice utter a foul curse, quickly realizes it was his own, and sprints in the opposite direction of the stoic creatures. They immediately give chase.

OCC: This might post as Skeelzania, I don't know. Forum is kind of screwed up.

IC:
The Orcs continued to advance, quickening their pace. When they were a hundred yards from the Nanakan line, the first few rank of spears came down. A favorite Pigstikka tactic was simply forcing their way through the enemy line en masse, and Ratzbag wasn't one to mess with a tactic that had worked for several hundred years. Ignoring the enemy spell-fire, which was by now pouring into the lines, Ratzbag urged his Clan forward; the Big Pokka and his personal guard right in the center of the line. As they hurtled toward the enemy, a battle cry rose in the throats of the Orcs, reaching its crescendo just as the two forces smashed into each other in an explosion of steel, screams, and rage.