Verminlords of Greystone OOC

[Selmont Sharpig]

Verminlords of Greystone

For this tale we must leave the familiar grounds of Mossflower for a faraway land. Eight weeks as the sparrow flies, and we arrive at our destination. The first sight is the verdant fields, giving way to the stony shore dotted with quays and harbours. Cogs, galleys and smaller fishing vessels crowd around the bays like bees at some great wooden hive. But not so far from this idyllic place lies a darker, bleaker landscape. Like a great swollen pimple, an island juts out of the ocean. Countless years of exploitation have left the land barren, with not a tree in sight. Dozens of castles made of the same drab rock from which the isle had it's name lay scattered, with a great pit of pink sand dominating the very centre of the island. Welcome to Graystone.

Who likes the good guys anyways! Forget morals and cooperation. This will be a RP for the sneakiest, smelliest and backstabbingist of you. Private conferences amongst players are encouraged, and the only rule is that all players must be given a chance to formulate a plan of their own before you put yours into effect (IE No powerplaying). Bad guys encouraged, but feel free to play rebellious goodbeasts if that's more your style. Instead of the regular character sheet I'd like to try a short, characterful introduction. By example:

The stairway to the audience chamber was dank and slimey, much like the rest of the castle. Twice the young mouse nearly slipped back down, down, down, all the way to the black cells below. After the arduous ascent, he was shoved roughly onto the floor in an antechamber adjacent to the hall. From there he caught his first glimpse of his captor, and saw the trial of the beast called before him. The light was low, the torches almost burned out, but even through the gloom a pair of eyes were visible. Bright, green eyes that seemed to stare into your very soul when you faced them. The silence stretched out unbearably long, punctuated only by the pitiful whimpers of the mole in the centre of the room. Finally, the shadowy figure spoke, in a low growl that could barely be made out from the mouse's vantage point.
"You are aware of the penalty for theft, are you not?"

"Speak, you sobbering  fool!" was the comment from the rat stationed to the moles side.
"But ser, twas only arf a loaf." was all he could manage.

Another long silence hung around the hall. When the voice spoke this time, there was an air of kindness and sympathy to it.
"Very well. I'll let nobeast say I am unfair in my judgement. As you showed the good sense to only steal half of your lords loaf, I have decided to only administer half the punishment. Blackfang, take one of his hands."
The poor moles cries could be heard all the way down the steps, until the heavy door was finally closed.
"Tell me this is the last one Splitear."
"I buhleeve so yer grace"
"Then bring him here, and quickly. What's he accused of?"
"Treason against yer lordship. Organizing a resistance oi ear"
"Very well. I do hope you know that the penalty for treason is death."
"I know very well, and I spit in your face, aye, you and all the other "Lords" prancing about and putting us down. You'll be stopped, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. :
"What a lovely speech. I'll be sure to ask someone to put it on your headstone."
With that the mouse snatched the dagger from his guards belt and lunged at the shadow. In one smooth motion, a sword came up to meet it, the force of the impact sending the blade spinning from the mouses paws. An evil cackle erupted, and finally the thing in the dark stepped forward. A great towering cat, grey in whisker but broad of shoulder, leaned on his sword with the mouse at his knees. Another step, and he swung his sword in a large arc with a sickening sound as head was parted from shoulders.
"The penalty for lax behavior is also, as it happens, death." he said to the headless corpse of the guard.
"You've got a rare spirit. One which most of my men are sadly lacking. I'd promote you to captain of the guard if I didn't think you'd try and slit my throat at the first opportunity."
The mouse stood in defiant silence.
"I think I have the perfect position for you. Fourteeth, escort him to the pits and sign him up for a fight against the bonebreaker. Put thirty crowns on him."
The last thing the mouse saw before the door closed was the perfect, smiling white teeth of Vlastamir Warblade, Slayer of Fellimus the adder, High commissioner of trade for the Blackwood province, Admiral of the Third Fleet, Warden of the northern territories and Verminlord of the stony shore.

[Kolman]

so all of the players can be verminlords or could they be like a scheming second in command for another player as well?

[Tungro]

If so, I would total join it

[Selmont Sharpig]

You can be whatever you want, but if you're my lieutenant prepare to be mistreated. 

Also I am totally open to the idea of people joining as it goes on, but I would like to have somewhat of a cast set up before beginning.

[Tungro]

So it is fine if I am some ferret warlord fighting all you guys?

[Selmont Sharpig]

Sure.

[Kolman]

"Git movin! " The brute of a rat screamed at Foggin, the poor mole started digging the tunnel anew. He and the other prisoners had been digging for 8 weeks. The tunnel was the latest scheme of the rat lord Scarfang to invade his brother Earbiter's fortress.
by Foggin's reckoning they were less than a day from outer walls of Fort Claw. Though that hadn't caused the Guards to quiet or stop screaming at the slaves, the mouse Luke looked up at Foggin, and whispered "There is a big storm outside tonight, we can kill these miserable guards and get to Redwall Abbey and get the long patrol. Foggin nodded, whispering back "Urt will be 'ard but oi tink we..." he never finished the sentence as the tunnel wall behind Luke crumbled and Rats came pouring through the new hole screaming in a blood frenzy, Luke was stabbed in the melee and Foggin dragged him to the side away from melee, their rat guard dragged Foggin in front of himself as a shield. "Now, what do I have here?" a fox asked in a silky smooth voice seeming to appear out of thin air. "What have you found Shortclaw?" A gruff deep voice said and a giant of a beast lumbered into the tunnel ducking to fit in the enclosed space. "Sir it is a rat hiding behind some slaves." the fox ShortClaw replied "A stinking coward? He will die the death of all cowards!" with that a long sword struck from the great beast and stabbed the rat through its skull. Foggin dropped to the floor and held the dying Luke, staring at two new comers.
"Ensure that the slaves are kept alive unharmed if possible." said the brute. "As you command Great One." replied the fox.
       That was the day that Fort Broken Tooth fell to the new verminlord known as Anzore Greatclaw.

He came on the front of a great Storm with his hordes all veterans of fighting the terrors of the north and the Hares of the long patrol to the south.
Malevolently cunning yellow eyes glared out at the world. Few would openly take up arms against him. Who else could boast that he had bested a badger in single combat? Anzore GreatClaw, Fortress Breaker, Badger Bane, Maw of War, Bloody Berserker, Anzore the Wolverine had come to Stony Island with Short Claw a conniving fox as his second in Command. Anzore was more than capable of defeating two of the lesser rat lords holding two very close fortresses to the north east, adding the survivors to his own ravenous hordes. Now Anzore sits planning,  Short Claw Schemes, both seek great power and both will take it when ready, like a giant terrible beast the hordes of the GreatClaw look outward with envy at the other vermin lords, soon it shall all be theirs for the taking

[Selmont Sharpig]

Nice start Kolman. I thought I'd try and put some method to my madness, and after a few minutes with the wonderfully useful Azgaars world generator (https://azgaar.github.io/Fantasy-Map-Generator/) I came up with this.

My thought is that the northern territories are your standard frozen wastelands with plenty of evergreen forests. Blackwood would be the only heavily inhabited part, with scattered settlements and colonies elsewhere. Fogvale is very mountainous, and as the name suggests, foggy. The marshes should be fairly obvious, I envision the sort of saltwater marshes you get in Nova Scotia and elsewhere. The Flatlands would be the most productive land with most of the food in the region originating from there. All the power rests on Graystone itself. The island is surrounded by deep water, making it an ideal place for ports. Cliffs dominate the majority of the coastline with the Stone Shore being the exception, as the eroded debris has built up underwater, rendering it unsuitable for the larger merchant ships but more easily accessible to smaller fishing boats. I encourage you to fill up the rest of the world as you go. 

[Kolman]

nice map

[The Grey Coincidence]

You've thought this through quite well and I feel compelled to join...

[Selmont Sharpig]

Please do! I've mostly got a broad idea at the moment, but I have nothing to do but think during summer, so expect unnecessary detail. I also welcome suggestions for world building.

[Jack the Quick]

I love the idea. I'll join! I'll make my character later, as your requirements take a little bit more time then the average sheet would take. A few questions. One, could there be a city right across from Greystone? And two, Could I, er, be the lord of that city, if it ends up existing?

[MathLuk]

I think I can join!

[Selmont Sharpig]

Jack: You can be the lord of whatever you want. And if you change your mind, then I  guess you'll have to conquer some new territory...

Mathluk: Glad to hear it.

[Jack the Quick]

Great! I'll, er, get it done eventually.
Edit: Umm, coud you name the city and place it on the map, please?