PASSED[Citizen] Borissomeone ( Patron :TheFirstONeill )

[Hesus de bodemloze]

Client : Borissomeone

Client :

Here is my application,


The question I asked myself was why I wanted to become a citizen of this forum? And the only answer I could come up with was the deep passion I have for this forum and the Total War games that grace its fine electronic halls. These games and the forum are part of my life, just as my wife and little boy are part of my real life. I’m sure you have heard all of this before, but the Total War series have been a massive part of my gaming life since Shogun first shone in all its glory on my 13 inch CRT screen, from there the love affair began in earnest.

I first joined the forums in 2009 (March) after having lurked in the shadows watching and waiting for something to push me that final step forward into the light that is TWC. That final step was Empire Total War, not to complain but to offer some help regarding the many issues some people had with Steam.

From that day onward the TWC became a part of my life (some may consider this sad), I guess the question is what have I done for the TWC during my time here? Well some may consider this little and some may consider this a lot but I have written Fan Fiction for the mod Third Age and many short stories for the Mod Call of Warhammer (mostly well received by the members on these forums). But my true obsession is with the mod Thera. Within this forum I have a Fan Fiction that is still ongoing and because of this Fan Fiction I believe it’s the reason TheFirstONeill asked if I would like to write some faction histories for his amazing mod. Here is what I have done for the mod Thera.

The Vashta faction

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Some say the birth of our Empire was like the birth of a child, screams of pain and terror and blood, so much blood it ran in rivers that day we were born into the lands of Thera. Let me, the current leader of the Vashta, tell the tale of the birth, like a proud father I will not stop until you know the history of my people. The lands that we call ours were once made up of many smaller kingdoms, pitiful lands ruled by weak and ineffective rulers only interested in their narrow strips of land. Our founder the mighty and terrifying
Vashta Baghdadi lived in one such city, being part of the deadly Otjuk troops he spent his days fighting the enemies of his ruler, but at night in his heart grew a hatred and scorn for the pathetic ruler of his city. The petty man only dreamed of ruling his small kingdom and could not see beyond the walls that surrounded his small city. Hatred grew within Vashta, it ate at his soul for he knew that he was destined for great things, Vashta knew his life was not to be wasted as a guard, he only waited for a sign from the gods to show him what to do.

The sign came in the form of ‘The Great Torment’ when entire cities died and histories were lost to disease and death in untold proportions. It is said that Vashta stood at the gates of his dying city as the wind moaned through the open portal, the sounds of the plague stricken thick in the air, to look into his eyes was to see no pity only hatred for the weak. It was also rumored that the dread Vashta had also slaughtered the once ruler of his city, turning on his onetime master and his family for being unable to protect what was theirs, Vashta’s disgust was final, covered in the blood of women and children and that of the weak ruler, Vashta vowed never to bow down again to the feeble. Vashta Baghdadi disappeared into the night with the few remaining strong, a life of the nomad beckoned as the land died around them.

As the cities died and the weak littered the country side, Vashta and his people grew strong living the life of the nomad, free from the disease ridden walls of the plague infested cities. For years he wandered with his loyal band of warriors taking what he wanted when he wanted, soon stories came that the cities had again started too flourished. Vashta longed to rule more than the wind swept grass lands and golden sand. It is recorded is our histories that Vashta spoke to his people, a simple speech that would change the course of our history.
‘Today we are nomads no more. Today we take the first step in becoming an Empire,’ it is said he then drew a knife and slashed his own hand, as blood fed the thirsty ground he was standing on he spoke again,
‘I am now part of this land; my blood is now mingled with the dirt we stand upon. From now I am the Empire, today the Vashta awake.’

As the Vashta awoke and the horns of war blew a hoard of Christians swept across the lands of Syrianna, killing in the name of their lord and god, thousands more died as the land was again soaked in blood. The dirty Christians met no real opposition in the broken lands taking Baé Asra in a bloody battle where they crucified all in the name of their Christian god. Vashta caste his cold eyes upon the castle and the infidel lurking behind its walls. Like a hungry wolf the Vashta pounced upon the Christians, the walls wept blood as the slaughter continued into the night. Like moths to a flame the nomads of the land flocked to Vashta’s banner after this victory and the Empire was born.

The new Sultan of the Vashta sent great ships out, seeking new lands for his Empire. Ships were lost to the wild seas and great storms that still wreaked havoc on Thera, but some returned with news of new lands, weak lands, lands ready for the Vashta to place under their heels. This land to the North West, Translavia, was ruled by infidel brigands who were unable to see the true potential of the land they ruled. An army was sent, and again The Wolfs of the Vashta fell upon the infidels in a lightning campaign, quickly adding two new cities to the Empire. A new plague again struck the Vashta, the war faltered as the dead again piled up in the streets.

The Vashta decided to solidify what they had taken as the “Torment’ raged, but now the wind whispers of war again, the “Torment’ has slowed, swords are readied, now all that is left to decide is who will first taste the steel of the Vashta? The woeful fools in Translavia or the remaining infidels who dare walk the soil of Syrianna. The Vashta have awakened, the time of war is here.

The Lao Che Khanate

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Some would say we are the thunder of the plains, we are a storm that sweeps across the endless lands that are ours, hunting in the sea of grass, man or beast, that makes up the Steppes, but that was not always the way and this is were the tale begins.

The Steppes were once littered with many a tribe, some would toil the earth growing crops from the rich land, but most were nomadic herders following the herds from sun up to sun down, living off the masses of animals that lived on the great plains. When the herds thinned conflict would break out amongst the tribes, raids were common during this time, cattle stolen and families slain as tribe fought tribe. It was a sight to see when the conflicts grew beyond mere raids as masses of horse archers thundered towards each other, steel tipped rain reaping a toll. The battle would only end once one army broke and fled back into the vast lands of ours, but these battles were rare for the herds often numbered more than the blades of grass that grew on the plains.

The tribes were often interrelated through diplomatic marriages; through these bindings alliances were formed (often tentative). These bindings helped keep peace when the sword and arrow may have been the answer before. Then came ‘The Great Torment’, were once grass would stretch from horizon to horizon, now an endless sea of snow ruled the land, even with the seasons changing to summer no relief from the snow was found. The herds disappeared from the Steppes, an emptiness now echoed were once the bellows of cattle filled the plains with their song. Where once the Steppes flourished with life, now death ruled the landscape with an iron grip.

And so the conflicts began, tribes that once ruled now littered the plains their blood adding bright mocking colour to the endless seas of snow. Families turned on families as once binding bonds broke under the strain of starvation. Soon the conflicts became so intense the dead outnumbered the living, those that still lived soon realized that in order to survive they needed to band together. The few remaining elders called a grand council, each tribe selected their best warriors to represent their respective tribe. A series of tournaments were held to decide who the greatest of all champions was to be. One tribe sent their champion who was also their headman, the tribe was the Che, and the headman was none other than Lao Che. During the tournaments he proved to be an unstoppable force, besting each champion, no one could beat him. Be it horse, blade or bow Lao Che ruled all. It was said in the final match Lao Che defeated five champions with only five blows, he moved like a shadow and was as fast as the never ending wind.

Lao Che was crowned the Great Khan, and so the Lao Che Kanate was born into the wind swept Steppes and the thunder of the plains rumbled forth into the new kindom.

And now life returns to the Steppes, the Khanate has managed to bring their people through the ‘Torment’. The Great Herds have return from the brink, the snow has now melted and grass again appears over the harsh plains and rolling hills. The people are filled with hope, with the return of the herds and the belief that the gods are urging them on to greater things the future is bright for the Khanate. The Khan now with greater finances has begun to develop the deadly and gifted horse archers of the tribes. Professional armies now ride the Steppes, steel tipped death at hand to strike down the enemies of the Khanate. With one army having sailed north into the strange lands of the Meso, a land of hot winds and feather clad warriors and proud desert fighters, they have managed to establish a province in this land. The shamans tell of great herds that roam these lands, with this news it is time to unleash the thunder of the tribes on this land for it has been for told that the Lao Che are to rule this land as well. A storm gathers on the horizon, the Lao Che are ready for war, we are the thunder of the plains.

The Dracule

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Translav land mass has always been a land of war and of blood, the rivers often run red, screams of terror ride the wind as yet another war was fought. The bones of the dead litter the river beds and the dark valleys of Translav, grinning skulls watch and wait for the newly fallen to join the ranks of the dead. The dark brooding lands being home to brigands and thiefdoms never knew the peace that other kingdoms were so blessed with. The local princes known as Boyars fought amongst themselves, vying for control of the most profitable regions, murder and intrigue surround all the royal families. It was not unheard of for families to be strong one day and the next nothing more than corpses, their blood feeding the ever hungry land of Translav.

All this lead to the greater region being unstable, the way of war and death was nothing new to this land, but lessons came hard to the proud and violent peoples of Translav. Constant fighting leaving the land weak and easy pickings for outlander invaders, dark eyes watch and waited, judging the right moment to strike. Then came 'The Great Torment' the sky became dark and the people trembled. Black rain fell, it seemed the land returned all the blood that had been spilt, the crops perished as the thick dark rain fell choking the life from the land. When the plagues arrived the people believed God had truly abandoned them, soon the dead out numbered the living as the land became one mass grave. Civil uprisings against many of the Boyars took place. When the plagues reached Kosavar, the Dracule knew they must act.

The Grand Duke rode his army into the region, the mighty and dread Blood Knights rode a wave of death and despair slaying every man, woman, and child. Even the animals were killed, not a horse, cow or even hen was left alive. Then the city was put to the torch, the pillars of smoke reached into the sky for days to come and so great were the flames it was said the stars were dimmed at night. No vile pestilence could remain amongst such heat. Whilst the city burned it was said the Grand Duke watched and waited ensuring none could flee, and those that hid and then tried to flee the fiery death were cut down without mercy and left to rot were they lay.

Then amongst this suffering the Vashta arrived, attacking the northern regions and quickly gaining control of a number of provinces. As the torment continued to kill to people, it was was impossible to mount a serious defence against the Vashta. Then the plagues took hold of the invaders, and their advance was stalled. So a stalemate was reached, the Vashta controlling the northern regions of Translavia, the independent Boyars holding the midlands, and the Dracule controlling the South East peninsula.

Present Situation

The Dracule spent the years of the torment building its military technologies, and learning the latest techniques of war. Diplomats were sent to the chivalric kingdoms, and treaties were signed to allow chivalric armourers and military advisers to come and advise the Grand Duke. Finally the armies of Dracule are ready to sweep the infidel Vashta from the Slav lands. Years of war and death have ridden these lands in a wild ride; the thunder of the Blood Knights as they charge brings a chill to the most hardened warrior. The Vampyres move in the shadows, a trial of blood in their wake as they bring down the enemies of the Dracule. Fear dances in the eyes of anyone who knows that the Vampyres are coming to pay a visit. Fear is a powerful tool, blood a banner that can not be denied, the Dracule a force that is now yours to command. Let the skulls grin for soon you’ll be adding more members to the family of death, now go forth and fill this dark brooding land with the screams of terror as the weak see you coming.

Military

The Dracule fields a wide roster of many varied units from Magyar, and Serbian units, through to the mighty Blood Knights and Assassins (known as Vampyres).


Religion and Culture: Religion is Christian, Culture is early chivalric.

Teutonic Order Sermon (game event)

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Brothers we are gathered here to here to welcome into our order the newest recruits into our hallowed order. To join our ranks each of these men must prove both their piety and their valor. Their souls will be tested during the coming years, but if they harden them and only think of the grand work they will do for the Order their sword arms shall never falter.

They must relinquish their coin and possessions, for the currency that they will now trade in shall be blood and fear, and swear an oath of fidelity to Grandmaster, High Inquisitor to the Church.
Before they can call themselves true brothers they will be expected to take part in a holy crusade, and to have cleansed the lands of at least ten unbelievers.
Since out first founding we have been the iron edge to the words of the Inquisition, through blood and battle we have carried the word of the almighty into the dark pagan lands.

It is well known fact that during the dark days of the ‘Great Torment’ the Order took its first steps towards becoming one of the most feared Order of Knights this land has known. It only took one man, his heart heavy with rage and hatred towards all who we deemed as pagans. Their wild dancing in the dark forests of Thera ending with the ringing of hammers as our Order nailed the first of many pagans to their loved trees. All it took was one man, I cannot speak his name too you as of yet until your proven worthy of hearing it, all it took was one man to show us the way, to set us upon the path too redemption, we will only find redemption when the last pagan falls to our swords and their blood seeps into the ground never to pollute our lands again.

So now I ask the new brothers to speak our most righteous oath, repeat after me,

‘I do profess and promise chastity, giving up all property and obedience to God and to you, Master of the Teutonic Order, and to your successors, according to the Rules and Regulations of the Order. And I will be obedient to you, and to your successors, even unto death. My sword arm shall never fail as long as a single pagan draws breath.’

So brothers, now you have taken the oath, are you men worthy prospects of our Order? Will you carry our banners onto pious victory in the name of the Almighty Lord? Bow your heads and give thanks for now you are part of our Order, go forth and spill blood be it pagan or anyone foolish enough to stand in our way.

The Tahar

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I sit before the fire watching the flames dance over the wood; sparks shoot into the sky seeking heaven, my features flicker in the light as the people of the Tahar gather around to hear my stories yet again on how we grew as a Kingdom. The wind moans around us causing the fire to flare, which when I think about it, is appropriate for our kingdom did rise from the ashes of the ‘Torment’. This is our story.

We the Tahar roamed the vast deserts and scrublands of Ibellica, to others a harsh land, but to us the Tahar it was ours and in our eyes it provided all we needed. We lived a good life, a simple life of the nomad and in some cases if the grass was thick and the water sweet we would settle in an area living the life of the semi-nomadic. We weren’t always under one banner, there was a time when we roamed and fought as many smaller tribes. All fiercely independent, against a central administrative rule, bickering and small wars were not uncommon between the tribes. The people of the Tushkan and the Numari, who now march under the Tahar banner, inhabited the dessert regions of our land, hardy men and quite possibly the most independent of all who make up the Tahar, fighting between these two tribes was a daily occurrence and today they make up some our most feared warriors.

Those of us who hail from the coastal regions of the West, whilst still a dangerous people, were more settled. We would trade, and fight, with the other tribes on Mesomecala (the Meso land mass) as well as Ibellica. Despite the tribes being independent from each other we would unite when our lands were threatened by foreign devils, and let me tell you there was nothing more inspiring than seeing a mass of our warriors come swarming out of a dust storm to slaughter all before them. But alas, we would always turn on each other in the end for we are a proud people and would not bow down to one man, infighting and squabbling would always end any alliance between the tribes.

I stop the tale for a brief moment as wine is passed forward. I see many eyes watching me from the flickering light, each face is held by the words I speak, a deep breath and I continue.

Life seemed to follow a pattern for the tribes, until of course the “Great Torment’ came to our lands.

I pause again as a child starts to wail in the crowd, soon it is quite again I continue.

First the rains ceased, soon followed by great dust storms so powerful it was said they could rip the flesh from a man. The ground formed massive cracks in its surface; it would groan as the never ending heat baked the land over and over, some believed the sound was of lost souls trying to regain the surface. It seemed this would be the end of the tribes as one disaster let to another, then the Christians came from the North, they blamed the followers of the Crescent for the plagues and death that had come to their lands. All seemed lost as the Christians rampaged across the lands. That was until a general by the name of Tahar Tahar rose from the ranks of the tribes.

I pause again as cheering erupts from the throats of the crowd at the mention of our most beloved founder; I smile at this and continue.

Tahar Tahar soon rolled back the enemy, their bodies littered the lands all the way back to the boarders, from the ashes of war we have risen. Tahar was a force of nature, none could resist his charm or skill with the blade, soon the tribes fell under his spell, our ranks swelled as all flocked to the banner of the Tahar. Tahar quickly organized what grain we had into royal granaries and made sure every member had equal access to the grain and in exchange each tribe gave men and weapons; from this the national army was formed. Now that we have a standing army of ruthless warriors the foul Christians would never catch us unaware again. And now here we sit the proud Tahar a nation with a bloody history and more blood to come.

The crowd sits waiting for more, not realizing that the part of the tale is yet to be written. I turn to you and smile then ask,
‘Tell me friend, are you ready to tell the next tale in our history?’ The fire flares again as I wait for your answer.

This is the intro ‘tarted up’

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Thera was a world much like the one we know, a land of vast forests and wind swept grass lands, wide deserts covered in golden sands and a ocean rich in food, often plied by great ships seeking new lands to trade with. That was until one fateful day 222 years ago, a day when great natural calamities were unleashed on the world known as Thera, this day Thera was broken asunder. A day when entire generations were lost. A day when histories ceased and life was changed as we knew it, a day the dead out numbered the living. Terror in untold portions now stalked the land of Thera; it is said on this day the cries of pain and fear could be heard to echo across the heavens.

What exactly happened to cause these calamities is not clear; theories were thick in the air as to why these calamities had struck Thera, priests slaughtered animals and willing, or not, human sacrifices to determine why the Gods had turned on them. Blood ran in great rivers from the temple doors even as the wailing holy men and women were crushed as the temples fell to powerful earthquakes. Churches were packed as the peoples of Thera sought shelter from the wild storms that rolled across Thera only to find these buildings offered no protection as roofs were ripped away and wild winds tore people into the swirling maelstrom above. Each culture describes the causes and the effects within their own cultural and belief frameworks striving to provide answers for their leaders and the terrified population.

What is clear is that the planet suffered earthquakes, entire cities swallowed by the heaving ground, volcanic eruptions, an almost worldwide tidal wave, thousands perished at sea as ships disappeared without a trace; bodies littered the coast line for weeks to come, all with the same expression twisted on their faces, terror, pure terror. Huge wild fires ripped across many lands, a ruddy glow painting the skies of Thera at night and smoke so thick it blocked the sun for days. There were reports of fiery objects seen in the skies, causing more mass hysteria amongst the many peoples of Thera. This day became known universally as the 'Great Torment'.

In the years following the normal tidal and seasonal patterns became erratic. Many regions suffered great storms, lightning would tear apart the land and thunder rumbled so loud some went mad as the sound would not cease. The storms lasted weeks, months and in some areas years. The effects were so great that most people believed that this was truly the end of time. Almost every culture reset their calenders to mark these world changing disasters.

This lasted for over a century and the population of Thera was decimated, cities became tombs for lost kingdoms. Many formerly great nations fell, as starvation and disease ravaged the lands. Some nations locked their borders in an attempt to safeguard what they had, some nations looked to their gods for salvation, others turned to science.

It is now 222 years since the day of the 'Great Torment'. Many cultures believe this to be an auspicious date for a myriad different reasons, the reoccuring nature of the date, the alignment of the stars, the return of the herds, or simply because they feel strong again. The Legacy of the Great Torment is a world inhabitied by many small nations which have been forced to develop in near isolation, a world of large desolate, depopulated lands, which are ripe for development by a wise and powerful leader. Are you such a leader .......


It is time to sound the horn, it is time to call your people too war. Raise your banners and sharpen your sword for the land of Thera is ready for the taking, stand up and rewrite the history of Thera. Can you reshape the world?

This mod allows the player to pit nations of differnet eras against one another. From armies of Legionaries to rifle quiped line infantry, all present on one planet at the same time.

The Wonton

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It is said that the men of Woton were born of Fire and Ice, our lands made from the parts of the first of the Woton gods, his blood formed our seas, his flesh the soil we toll in, his thoughts formed the clouds that gave us the life rain, the sparks that once lit his eyes became our stars and the bones of our god became the stone for our cities. We were a tolerant people, we traded across the lands our ships plied the seas seeking trade and knowledge from the many peoples of Thera. Our beloved city of Koslov, the heart of our nation beat true and strong as we flourished, but like a bolt of dread lighting from our gods the ‘Great Torment’ came and life as we knew it changed for evermore.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I now stand upon the deserted docks sadness in my heart as another storm rips across the harbour, the once busy area now crusted in ice as the powerful wind tugs at my clothing. The wind moans, sounding like the many slaughtered souls that have painted this dock in their blood. A sigh escapes my lips; I should really start from the beginning. We are a hard people, born into a hard land, but when the Torment came we were not ready for the death and disease that would follow. Our leader the ever Great Tzar Volchok spoke to us, told us to remain calm and at first we listened, but then he became ill. At first the people of Woton prayed to our gods to save our mighty leader, but it seemed the gods had deserted us in our greatest hour of need for he died as powerful fevers twisted his body beyond recognition.

With the death of our leader and wild ice storms tearing apart the land we turned on the first we could find. We marched into the merchant quarters our axes light in our hands, the foreigners had to have been the cause of all our troubles with their strange ways. We are born of fire and ice and that ran true that day, our hearts were ice and our eyes blazed with the fire of murder, so much blood that day, a shiver as I try to forget the horror of that day.

Now no one will trade with us anymore and so now we have to changed from a nation of trade and tolerance to a nation that must raise the standard of war. More men flock to the standard as the ice starts to melt. The idea of having professional armies takes root, we are a people of fire and ice the time of trade is over. Let the pagan killers come, let the Men of Valhalla rattle their shields and swords at us, the time of peace is over.

The Hispanic Tribes

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Las desgracias nunca vienen solas. Misfortunes never come alone, my father told me this many times during his life, he also said, A la luz de la tea, no hay mujer fea. By the light of the torch there is no ugly woman, a wise man my father and from my father I now pass to you the history of the Hispanics as he passed to me. Our people the Hispanic Tribes lived a blessed life, the life of the pagan when judged by some due to our worship of the Elemental Gods, but we were free to do so. We lived between the Crescent and the Cross, each culture coinciding together, we would trade with each man judging him not despite the fact that he could march under the banner of the Crescent or the Cross. But things changed the day the ‘Great Torment’ came to our tribes.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Our people dropped where they stood, struck down, their flesh melting from their bones as plague ran rampant amongst the tribes, our water disappeared and our crops failed. The Papacy blamed the pagans and the followers of the Crescent, the Christians gaze fell upon us with hatred and murder in their eyes. War came to our lands as the Papacy sought to appease their god with the blood of our people and that of the Muslims. The Christians raged across the land leaving behind a trail of death, the wailing of the women still sends chills down my spine, it look as if all was lost as the slaughter continued unabated across the lands, some say in certain areas the grass still has a red tinge to it from the blood that fed the ground during these dark times and if you listen carefully you will still hear the screams of the dying on the wind.

A council of the Tribes was called and as the Elders muttered and stumbled about as old men do only one man stood up to be heard, his name was Vaasco de Sousa. To prove that he would be the savior of the Hispanic Pagan Tribes he showed the council the severed heads of one hundred Christian Knights he had slaughtered, after that the tribes flocked to his banner. Vaasco led the tribes north to meet the Christian hoards, during the pitched battle that ensued Vaasco managed to slay the enemy commander by piercing his neck with a powerfully flung javelin, and as the man lay dying his army crumbled around him. The Tribes rejoiced, but no sooner had that battle been won word came the followers of the Crescent now marched upon the lands of the Hispanic from the West. What followed was years of skirmishing, the men of the camels proving to be tough enemies. Now as both sides stand battle weary an uneasy peace has been reached.

And now here we are today, the Tribes rule over the regions of the south east Ibellica, including the imposing bulk of Castelo de Sousa. We now have peace with the Christians in the north and the western Muslims, but this peace is strained at the best of times, and we must watch our neighbors closely. For now they seem happy to battle each other in their endless wars, but we need to be mindful of the fact that our lands will make a good base to stage a war from upon each other. Adding to the burden the Tribes now face is this ‘Lord’ Greystoke and his infamous pirates. This ‘Lord’ and his men have built a sizeable fortress on an inland in the south, a stain on the land. This fortress has become a magnet for the scum of the land, villains and mercenaries flow to this fortress like a river of filth. These men and women are not the kind of neighbors one would choose, given a choice.

So now is the time for the next chapter to be written. Now is the chance for you to live the history of the Hispanic Tribes and tell the next part to your sons and daughters. Let history happen now.

I have given a lot of my time towards this task (happily putting on hold all other projects I had going, and I will do it all again) writing for this great mod and will continue to support it for many years to come. I will also offer my services to anyone willing to call upon me, for writing is in my blood now. If granted the honor of becoming a citizen, I will wear this badge with honor (I may make a tee shirt, but I’m worried I might get beat up). So please consider all that I have provided and I await your decision.

Please find attached the links to my various works.

Kind Regards

Boris

http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showthread.php?p=5816824#post5816824 Thera Link.

http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showthread.php?p=6536855#post6536855 COW Link.

http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showthread.php?p=6382467#post6382467 Third Age Link.

http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showthread.php?p=5803866#post5803866 Third Age Link.

Patron : TheFirstONeill

Patron :

I would like to propose Borissomeone for the rank of citizen. He first came to my attention in my thera sub forum where he has began to post fan fiction. The reception to his writings were so positive that I made a thread dedicated solely to his work.


I then approached him and asked if he would be interested in helping me work on the faction histories. He agreed and the artistic depth of his writings added a new dimension to mod, giving the factions and the mod in general a real sense of identity.

It was a pleasurable experience to work alongside him, and he was prepared to pander to my constantly changing requests for adaptations and small rewrites to fit my vision of the mod.

His support within the mod forum to both the general membership and the mod team have always been very positive.

He frequently contributes to the POTW competitions and other literary competitions.

If Borissomeone was granted citizenship it would help his confidence and I feel he could make massive contributions to other areas of the site such as the scriptorium of Helios.

[Heinz Guderian]

He's a good writer. Not as good as Augustus, but certainly talented.

[Viking Prince]

A clear contribution to a recent mod launch. A patron recommendation from the Mod leader. All pretty persuasive. Now, is this enough? I think so.

[Legio]

dear god yes
ing firstoneill took him before i could pm him

[the Black Prince]

You can only really agree with the patron in this matter, yes from me

[Tzar]

This will be Yes from me too.

[aja5191]

And from me.

[Trax]

Well, he seems to be involved in forums I do not frequent and with things I don't care about.
I skimmed through some of his posts and found no reason to vote against, seems to be nice guy with a good attitude.

edit: damn, closed poll.
Wasted my time for nothing.

[Empress Meg]

Yes, but we appreciate you taking the time to play. Your concession gifts await you back stage. * Cue music*.

PM sent to patron and newly citizen, reply needed.

Devoirs The Empress