Civilization Thread

>Undead with Lich Warrior as Leader

>Subterranean

>>1432347
Seconding

I can certainly work with that

>>1432346

> Machines
> Tundra

>>1432419
I like this one

Undead
Tundra

Sounds doable.

Ursine in islands

>>1432346
Kobolds / Orcs

Islands

>Treants

>Swamp

Orcs, Volcanoes

"What are we doing today, Grog?"
"What we do every day, Grosh! TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!"

>>1432485
I second this.

>>1432347
Backing.

Looks like undead and subterranean win. You know, that actually sounds pretty cool, let's do it. This is my first time on a Civ Thread

File: 1471772213097.png (1MB, 1280x1280px) Image search: [Google]

1MB, 1280x1280px

Sorry lads, got kidnapped, I'm ready now.

Rage. Furious, unbridled, and unquenchable rage. It suddenly jolts through your once silent frame. The cold grasp of death is shocked away by the burning fire now in your long rotten bones, and you have just long enough to blink open your eyes and to hold off the cold from it's return. You have cast off the shackles of death, and you feel your long sapped strength swelling and returning to you. The stone casket around you holds fast, with biting magical charms that have so long restrained your bones suffering against the strain of your fury for now. Your skull billows with flame, and your eyes pierce the imminent darkness. The great immolation that is your very essence looks into itself, and you try to remember the distant times of your earlier years.

What do you see, in the inferno that is your mind, as you lie, cursed and entombed in rock and metal?

>Battle?
>Wizardry?
>A Heretic's Pyre?
>Or something else?

>>1432778
>A Heretic's Pyre?

>>1432803
Supporting

>>1432778
A Heretic's Pyre?

>>1432841
I'm pretty sure that means we were burned at the stake for Heresy

>>1432851
yeah, my guess too

OP isn't very active, huh?

File: 1453912734414.jpg (632KB, 1000x1400px) Image search: [Google]

632KB, 1000x1400px

You had raised your voice, and they burned you for it. Perhaps you had been a good man, noble, kind, generous and decent, but the flames claimed it all from you, and more.You remember helping the people you cared for, the warmth of defending them from the endless predations of the world. You remember love and safety alike, and that only makes it more bitter to know that it is all ashes now, along with all those you shielded. You lead your brothers and sisters in the defense of your new faith, and you were defeated. Your body was placed upon a pyre and set ablaze, but you refused to fall into ashes. You can remember, vividly, the feeling of your flesh burning away and leaving you a frame oif charred bones, refusing, through some faint memory of the world you were losing, to die.

When they found you could not be burnt, you were carried off and buried, far, far underground. Your casket was sealed in a tomb in the expanse of the underdark, and then your butchers fled back to the world above. The flames they lit will not be quenched again. The swirling memories come to life, and your body surges with flame. The casket bursts in a hail of rubble, and you find yourself standing in a crypt, surrounded by urns. The damned ashes of your brothers and sisters, silenced by time and the flames, without your strength of will.

You were a warrior and a cleric all at once, a paladin of your own half forgotten faith, and you still have some strength left. You call out in a silent prayer to the misty god in the depths of your memories, and you feel power rushing back through you. The urns, one by one, open, wreathed in blue and green light, and the ashes rise and solidify. Unarmoured and without mantles, the cloud-like forms of your ashen fellows are weak, but they are strong enough to serve you again, in death as in life.

The crypt is a small stone chamber, the walls lined with urns, around your casket. A suit of black, rusted armour and a long, steel mace rests on the floor where your casket once stood. The armour is a suit of mail, with scale plates as an outer layer, paint long washed away, with evidence of charring all over. An almost closed helmet caps the suit off. The mace is a massive weapon, flanged and all crafted from black steel. The hilt is bound in charred scraps of leather around a core of ashen wood, unburnt. Grasping it, and mantling yourself in armour. you look around, and besides the curious wandering clouds, all that remains is the great chamber door before you, sealed by wizardry beyond your ken. Your fire calms at the sight of your once lost friends skittering in the dust, and the blue, eerie light of your halo shimmers and eddies around your helmet. Vengeance shall come.

>Magically open the door? (1d100 Magic)
>Force through it? (1d20 Strength)
>Task your fellows with pulling it apart? (1d6 Command)
>Some other manner of escape? (Select as above)

>>1432887
I was writing, my friend.

>>1432898
Much better. Thanks OP

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>1432892
>Force through it? (1d20 Strength)

Rolled 6 (1d6)

Skeletor Time. Order our fellows to pull the door open.

HELL YES

>>1432912
will support this

>>1432912
I'd like to think I took one for the team. Let's hope the luck holds.

File: ae778d68f2b6a0694c61e4e9a95d3a65.jpg (113KB, 564x844px) Image search: [Google]

113KB, 564x844px

"My friends, the door?"

You nod your flame-wreathed head towards the great stone door, your long rotten mouth still, by the power of the flame, producing audible speech. You lament, even as you speak, that your once melodious, commanding voice has been replaced by a monotone, ringing speech, as if a great tolling bell. Despite your misgivings, the point is gotten across, and the swirling clouds of ash quickly set to work dismantling the great door. The clouds swirl into every crack and sliver of open space, wearing the rock into rubble, before the very stone and sand they are cracking and eroding begins to coalesce around their frames. By the time the door has been reduced to sand and rock, your disciples are clad in suits of interlocked stone and rubble, slowly and ponderously moving their rolling, shuddering frames, or in great moving clouds of sand and ash intermixed.

With the door reduced, and your disciples adequately wreathed in material forms, you can take count of them. Fourteen, with you as the fifteenth. A paltry force, but your own, enough to number as your former closest lieutenants. Though you can remember no specifics of any of them, the hollows in their stone faces that substitute for eyes still seem melancholy to you, and you almost weep at the sight of them. Beyond the door you discover a long corridor, walled with still bodies, rotten by centuries of wear, armed and armoured in rust and ruin, the scattered remains of their grave goods piled about them.

These men are different. They are not of a kin to you, they are a younger people, smaller, departed further from the line of kings, with shorter bones and more primitive equipment. Axes, great painted circular shields, and crude steel-work mark them, and you feel with some semblance of dread that if mankind has beenr educed to this pitiful state, your return is much needed. A few of the corpses, you notice, are stirring, those closest to you, but they collapse back into sleep once you stray from them. If you stand in place for long enough, a corpse will rise to it's feet, arm and armour itself, before staggering to follow you. There are perhaps fifty corpses here, and it would take far too long to animate them all, and they would slow you far too much even if they were to follow you.

Perhaps they would make a good militia, a hassle to levy, but a proficient mass force for engagements. The idea of logistics comforts you, and you proceed further down the corridor, past rows of corpses. Your ashen fellows gather fine goods from the dead and bring them to you, until you are weighed down with gold and silver bands, and two great red rubies rest, inset, upon your mace-head. You feel... regal, commanding, and your strength has returned to you fully.

>What next?
>Emerge from the Crypt into whatever is outside?
>Wait and peruse the corpses further? (1D20)
>Experiment with your magical ability? (1D100)
>Something else?

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>Experiment with your magical ability

Let's see what we can do before we blindly go out into the unknown

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>1432970
>>Experiment with your magical ability? (1D100)

Well that didn't go well

Uh, OP?

Helloooo... Anyone there?

>>1432970
Go examine the urns of our men, see if there is anything to spark our memory

>Emerge from the Crypt into whatever is outside?

I guess with a force already here, the crypt might make a good fortress, depending on whats outside.

>Other: Examine our crypt and our surroundings. Our memory is hazy. Who was our god? Who were our fellows?

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>1432970
>>Wait and peruse the corpses further? (1D20)

>Is thread kill?

Yeah, OP just sorta left and stopped posting I think. What a shame, I had high hopes for this one. I started my own Civ Thread though, when I saw this one die

>>1437448
Am sad.

So, if anyone wants to play a Civ Quest Thread, I've got one up and running, if anyone is interested. It's about a group of Unseen in the ruins of a great city.