What money do I have to bid with?
House-members should feel free to bid with the stack listed in their house's write-up in their house pf.
But I'm not the Earl. How could I make that decision?
You will find that the Earl sees things your way in this. After all, an Earldom is rarely (never) for sale.
Gee, my house is poooooor. What should I do?
Well, you can give this one a miss, or you can pool cash with a house that doesn't want the Earldom. You can approach this any way you wish. After all, Richard is only interested in the money. As long as he gets some, he is going to be happy.
I notice you didn't roll extra NPCs for the unplayed houses in the last event. Will NPCs be bidding for unplayed houses?
Yes, some of them, but definitely not everybody.
Event FAQ: Tell Her to Buy Me an Earldom of Land
Event FAQ: Tell Her to Buy Me an Earldom of Land
Gm * Man of Angles * Sionnach * Scealai *
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding