Gold, Sweat, and Blood [OOC] (High Fantasy, Story line focused.)

Venn

http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/...ps22d1ed8d.jpg
Full size map:
http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/20...en-d5qsw60.jpg

IC Thread:
http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...t-and-Blood-IC

INTRO:

(This is an outline of the lore within Venn, it is an expansive world, and not all lore has been set in place yet. Along with that, all Lore is subject to changes and/or alterations.)

The Empire of Venn had suffered for eight years now. It’d been eight years of oppression and hardships; of wives widowed as their war-bound husbands never returned; of children left orphaned. They’d been promised a life free of worry, though such promises were long forgotten now. Each year, the peasants woes were left to fester, their stomachs shriveling, and their hopes of a new beginning dying with every passing day of starvation and poverty. The human cities along its southern shores, known by most outsiders as ‘The Human Isles’, were bustling and heaving, but not with wealth and prosperity, but a slum of the poor hoping to find better chances within the filth of the cities.

The privileged and rich nobility keep themselves well distanced from the scum of the street, riding in elegant carriages, and upturning their noses at the stench. Though still, they suffer too. Under the cruel, but brilliant hand of King Zarr, The Usurper, The Witch King, their numbers are waning. Families that had built on centuries of tradition and gentle-breeding disappear, their wealth seized by the state, and not even the youngest of their linage spared. Though none are so bold to accuse their King of such atrocities, they are not ignorant to his schemes.

Even the other races, though a particular few seemed to have earned the King’s favor, were not spared of his iron fist. The Elves, ancient and wise, were smart enough to keep hidden up in their city, under the veil of their mystic forests, and strong magicks. The Dwarves were not so lucky, under constant bombardment by the Witch King’s armies, their underground system of caves and mineshafts would not hold much longer against the cannon fire. He claimed to be fighting for their rich iron veins, but his true content is not well-disguised. Even the most ignorant to Dwarven innovation can decipher he is after Dwarven metal in particular. Their metal alloy is fabled to be forged stronger then a dragon’s scale, and such a metal would help immensely with his conquest to the south.

Though arguably so, none have it worse off then those to those of the Obsidian Desert. Across the Southern Seas, King Zarr’s fruitless search for valuable resources such as gold, in the wasteland of the desert has cost many lives. Not only the lives of the desert armies that fight to fend off this foreign invader, but his own people as coin that could be used to feed the poor is wasted on a conquest in a land of dust and mirage.

They embraced the revolution of Zarr thirteen years back, it’d seem that their troubles had only multiplied since he took the throne. The bloody revolt lasted five years, and it was just the prequel to eight more when the crown was settled firmly on Zarr’s head. He was not fool enough to allow them the means to up-rise again; he kept people of Venn were disjointed and weak. Being no fool, he was not ignorant of his people’s unpleasant lives, and he is not so perverted to think that they appreciate their sorrows. But, such is the cost of empire building, each unsatisfied soul a cog to his great machine, though crude and ugly to unenlightened eyes, he sees the grandeur and magnificence beyond. Many must die so the few may prosper, such is the way of life and in his eyes, the end is justified by his barbaric means.

___________________________________

Hello,

Thank you for giving this page a look over! Gold, Sweat, and Blood is a tale set in the world of Venn, a world personally created after coming to the realization in my role-play career that what I sought was a real story where I set the rules, create the lore, and have a world that I could fully enjot. With that in mind, and the help of a role-play buddy I've known for nearing three years. Venn was born.

Some things you should know if you're interested in joining:

1. If you're interested in this role-play the first thing you should know is that there is a very heavy story-line to the world. There is a "main" protagonist, and a "main" antagonist. The "main" antagonist will eventually be killed, by the protagonist and the story will end. That being said, side characters will, and can have large parts in the story, and while the "Main" protagonist will be making the final blow. That does not mean your character couldn't be there, or even help. The world is large, and if you are dead set on an idea, and think it might fit into the world. Feel free to ask, and maybe show us a bit of what you're thinking.

2. There is a daily requirement of at least 1 post per day, and preferably more. If you cannot meet these requirements, than this is probably not the role-play for you.

3. This is a story written among others that also enjoy a good story. Not a competition.

4. I as GameMaster, along with Corin Traven have full say on anything and everything that takes place within the role-play of Gold, Sweat, and Blood.

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Races:

Humans:

Humans are the the newest visitors to grace the shores of Venn. The lineages of their race are confusing, and varied. So go as far to say, that they were once elves, cursed by either a great Elven king, or one of the gods. Doomed to a short life, and hard labor. Though, for many this belief has long been tossed aside, for the more logical assumptions that humans migrated from the far south, traveling by land and sea, where their first civilizations grew up in the heated desert.

From small beginnings, as the other races began to wane, the humans began to grow. They are surprisingly adaptable, and their numbers grew quickly, in time they began to branch out in search of more lands, and came upon the Islands of Venn. Long ago the Elves had held the lands the humans were now taking, but for reasons unknown, they had began to draw back further, untill they were rarely saw beyond the thick canopy's of the black forests.


Elves:

Now a shadow of their former glory, they have become increasingly secluded, preferring to live the days of their lives in their heavily enchanted forests, far away from the prying eyes of the other races. The elves have been suffering from dower birth rates as of the last few millennia, with it appearing to only worsen with each passing birth of a new elf.

Countless Theories have been speculated the reasons for the Elves fall, from the pride of their ancestors, to their overuse of magic. The wisest of the Elves has yet to explain why such a course has befallen their race.
(It should be noted in the current state of the world, and plot. There is likely no reason to create an elf character.)

The wars with the Dragons to the North West, has brought much heart ache upon the elves. Losing the life of a being that has lived for such a long time, and to have so few to replace them, the death of an elf is a terribly heart wrenching moment.
Elves are known to cherish the young deeply, and consider their own children to be incredible blessings. They also see it very much the same with other races children, and see the loss of a young life as the ultimate injustice.

Dwarves:

The dwarves have been seen burrowing into the deepest depths of Venn since time immemorial. These beings, believed to have emerged from the very heart of the world countless eons past. They hold strong to their gods, more so than even the Humans. They have a complex, and deeply religious society, wound tight around the creation story they hold dear.

The dwarves are a hearty people, though they are rare to reach the height of the average mans shoulders, their muscle in wound tight within their bodies, and a trained dwarven warrior can easily stand his own, if not out match any human of the same. The men are known to grow long, flowing beards, with intricate braids that symbolize everything from luck, to their patron god.

Dwarves prefer the depths of the earth to the open air, or sea. That is not to say they fear water, or the air. Many a time, dwarven miners have had to deal with underwater caverns, and the like and dwarves of Bal'Vod are known to hold host to some of the best divers in the world. Whispers have spoken of other dwarven settlements, though even the dwarves of Bal'Vod do not know how true those are.

Dragons:

Dragons reside in the Northwestern most mountain range that borders the Elven forests of Celöndià. These mountains are largely unexplored, and host to many ancient magics and secrets that have left the rest of the world. They rise high into the sky, much like a spine rising from the earth. Dragons have been secluded to these mountain ranges, since before even the elves arrived within the lands of Venn.

Dragons are fully intelligent beings, though they can only communicate with their mind. They appear very much as one would expect a dragon, large, covered in scales that shine, and glisten with a luster that rivals even the most polished of precious gems. Dragons do not die of old age, in fact they continue to grow until they are killed by some other means. While this does mean that a dragon could live for eons. That is rarely the case, due to the nature of their ferocity. Dragons are known for their tempers, and arguments between dragons usually ends with one of them either dead, or severally wounded.

Dragons vary in colors, their scales varying in colors ranging from the darkest black, to an almost crystalline white.

Vat’mær:

Also known as Mermaids, are sea beings that rise to almost the same height as an average human male, with a serpentine body dominated with rusty brown scales of different shades, and two arms above the torso much like a human. Their faces are a hideous mutation of man and Serpent, with a long, thin mouth dotted with several rows of serrated teeth.
The Vat’mær, are known to attack cities and villages along the coasts, and rumors have swirled that The Witch King struck up a deal many years before when he made his bid for power, and has used them as a tool ever since to keep hold of the kingdom.

K'tzal Kotl:

Natives of the Obsidian Desert, these Reptilian-like Tribes roam the black sands hating the people that take their lands only to build Cities and rape the sands for the sulphur and life. Thus leading many to out right attack the people of Jewelstine and raid supply wagon they come arcoss.

K'tzal Kotl are a Cold blooded race that are scaled head to foot with and exception of a feathered mane on males of the species. The scales are in the darker shades of blacks, greys, and sometimes blues in rare cases while feathers tend to be warmer colors of yellows, reds, greens. The tails are as long as the K'tzal Kotl body and the ends very from, Spiked, clubbed, or feathered, the the last usually appearing on females. They have claws on their hands and feet and even though they are beastly in appearance do not have the digitigrade legs but instead more humanoid legs.

The Children of the species come from eggs that are tossed into boil hot water found all about the desert. Eggs from all different clans and tribes commune as one in these hot springs before hatching where most die in a battle for alpha. When one is chosen as leader of the hatch group a Clan or "K'ila" and the leader is the head of that clan. The K'ila then joins a tribe or "Luza."




Languages:

Common/Human Tongue:

This tongue is one that is most prevalent within the world, humans chiefly speak it, and it's likely most of the other races are also familiar with it. It can be akin to the English language of today's world, though with a blend of Mid-evil fantasy sprinkled in for color.

Elven:

A language that is known by few outside of the reclusive elves that still speak it, some of the more studious of scholars may have managed to get their hands upon a few of the tomes that still remain within the kingdom of venn, or inside the forgotten depths of Bal'Vod. The lanaguage is characterized by it's swift words, and strange pronunciation that dance across the lips and tongue.

Dwarven:

A harsh, bellowing tongue. It is quite complex in creation, if sounding primitive to those that are unused to it's foriegn words. Many could still learn the language of the dwarves, as tomes are still prevalent enough, though trade has been cut off from the Dwarves in the last five years, as King Zarr has began to assault the Dwarven Kingdom of Bal'Vold.

The Language of Magic: (coming soon)



Political Systems:

Human Political System:

The King holds all of the power within the human lands. He appoints trusted Governors, over cities to maintain his control with an iron gripMost cities are held by Nobles, many have held great clout within the cities for many years, though as the Kings grip tightens upon the human’s lands many Nobles which once swore their allegiance to him, are secretly aiding those that would choose to free the land from The Witch Kings grip. This in turn has forced the king to quietly “remove” these families from power, and replace them with his loyal subjects.

Dwarven political System:

The dwarves have developed over their long standing civilizations a form of democracy, with a king as the figure head, and a large senate to represent the various Guilds within the Dwarven society. Each guild has been around for centuries, and holds a measure of power within the senate. The king serves as the head for as long as he is alive, and the Guild he was elected from gains many boons, and a majority say in the decisions that pass through the Political System.

Elven Political System:

The elves in their long times of reclusion have settled into a lax form of Governing themselves, where many houses play political games, in a complex web of rules and regulations. The elves still retain a king and queen, and while the royal family is generally well regarded, when the reigning regents pass away. It does not mean that the family of the last king or queen will obtain the title.


Religion:


Human Gods:

Ecila – The Goddess of the feminine form.

Laup - The God of masculinity.

Ymmij - The God of order, and justice.

Hpesoj - The God of gluttony and pestilence.

Jakile - The Goddess of death and destruction.

Haras - The Goddess of love and protector of marriage.

Dwarven Gods:

Helvíti (The shaper): The God of Fire, and brimstone. Believed by the dwarves to have created the world long ago, and fashioned the dwarves as beings to tend to and foster the world he had created. He is their only god, and there is a deep vein of religion that flows through many of the dwarves that reside in Bal'Vold.

K'tzal Kotl Gods:

Kotl: God of Fire, Heat, The Father, Warmth, Life. He is said to have a head of a Bird and a body of flame. His lava pools that are found all over the deserts are usually worship sites and are holy to the K'tzal Kotl.

X'roain: Goddess of Water, Cold, The Mother, Earth, Brith, Death. She is said to be a Dragon that lives deep in the sea and was trapped by Kotl as gave birth to all of K'tzal Kotl. Her sulphur hot springs are the said to be the result of Kolts seed mixing with her and are the birth sites for new K'ila.

Magic System:



Concept:

Magic is a very physical skill, and while the system if fairly simple; it has its limits for the average character. Magic can easily kill the user if they attempt to do something that is beyond their magical and physical skill.

An example of how magic works is such; If a man wishes to lift a box with magic, casting a spell to do so, causes their body to feel as if they have just lifted that box.
If a man is about to have a large boulder fall atop him, and they cast a spell that tries to keep back that rock from falling on them, that spell will likely expend the users life force, rending them unconscious and eventually death before the stone even falls atop them.

Healing Magic:

Healing is a very delicate process, and attempting to save someone from the brink of death is almost impossible and will lucky kill both the healer and the one dying.


Sources of magic:

Jewelry is an effective way to story magic. Unfortunately, gems are hard to find, and extremely valuable. Thus making them very hard to obtain, and the magic stored must come from either the magician, or another life force. Obtaining magic stores from other beings is dangerous, and quite complicated, and relatively unknown to the average magician.


Magical Stamina:

Humans and Dwarves are near the lower end the power scale. Magic users are a rare thing, and in some smaller human villages, they are even believed to be a myth.

Elves tend to be far more magically skilled then the other races, though as their race is few and far between, and extremely reclusive. All elves, except under the most rare of circumstances are skilled in magic, though their full potential still relies on natural talent and devotion to such a complicated craft. They also hold host too much of the secrets of magic gone by still left in the world.*

Dragons have the most puzzling magical forms. They have little control over how or when they use it, and it is a very rare and typically monumental occasion when they do occur.

Factions:

Ivaylo:

A mysterious group birthed in resistance to the reign of King Zarr. In the eight years since whispers have brought about the name of the group, they have yet to make a public move towards reclaiming the kingdom of Venn. There are rumors that this group is backed by many of the Noble's that fled when the Kingdom was taken over. More recent rumors have claimed this group has settled in with the pirates that, as of late have been sailing ships of finer make, and attacking key shipments that could cripple the Kingdom of King Zarr, and his various plans.(More will be added as they take the limelight.)

The Magus Fold:

This group of men, and women is fully made up of magicians. Formed by King Zarr himself, and headed by a shadowy leader, who's whereabouts are unknown, and his appearance even less so. The duty of the Magus Fold is to search out those gifted in the magical arts, the younger the better. They are then whisked away to the city of Delyi, where they are given room and board, and bared from ever leaving. There they learn to control, and master their talents to the best of their abilities, and are of course under the supervision of the king, through the inquisition. To refuse to join the Magus Fold is to be an outcast, and hunted by his majestic inquisition, for high treason to the majesty himself.

The Inquisition:

Another group that sprang up under the ruling of King Zarr, these men are more skilled then your average guardsmen, capable of handling the acquirement, or deaths of those the king deems useful, or unworthy within his kingdom. They are also known to aid the Magus fold, in seeking out magi that might swell the ranks of the Kings Growing schools of controlled magic. These are not common, but there are a few in each city, and others that travel the various country side of the Kingdom, they are nosy, corrupt, and deathly loyal to their king.



City Descriptions:
Note: (Pictures are not 100% representations of the location, only for inspiration and aid in imagining the setting. They're also pretty.))

Örjóta:
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Örjóta is the capitol city of Venn, centered almost perfectly on the mainland of Venn. South lies the Human Isles, which Örjóta is normally grouped with, despite not being an island at all. Century old brickwork inter-mingles with the recent canals, and lock systems to bring the water from the lakes and rivers, through the bustling city. Beneath lays a catacomb of sewers, infested with the street’s filth, as well as quite a few poor, roaming the musty expanse because they’ve got no where else to go. The castle shadows over the sprawling city around it, built hundreds of years ago to intimidate, and still rises high, and holds it’s air of daunting.

The walls surrounding the city are just as old-..though some sides more aged, having tiny huts and hunched over shelters leaned to them, while lichen and vines crawl through the cracks in the stone, reclaiming it to the earth. *Others are well kept, particularly near the dominating gates, and the wealthier parts of the city. The social classes are strictly divided in the city, though it is a mixture of all races, species, and wealth. The high-born and the prosperous lay in the northern section, wrapping around the castle with their grand apartments, *as well as along the main roads, back alleys looping through the sides of such homes, steeply expanding into the vast and the dark ghettos.


Illidea:
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The city of the Elves, long hidden from the rest of the world, Illidea stands as a shelter from the changing world that lies outside of Celöndià Forest. The city lies in a wide clearing of sprawling grassy hills that rise above the tree tops. To those not familiar with the makeup of the city, many of its pathways appear nothing more than winding deer trails, with wild flowers growing in odd arrangements, and crystal spires that appear to force themselves up out of the tree canopy.

The elves have spent millennia perfecting, and creating their utopian capital, and it is and always has been a wonder of the world. The last human to set foot within the woods of Celöndià or the city of Illidea, was Forzan The Monk over two hundred-and-fifty years ago. Within the middle of the enchanted city, standing a visible marker from all parts of the expansive city is a singular, crystalline tower, aqua blue in color. It glints brightly from the rays of the sun, and stands at the Elves oldest and most treasured buildings. The Life Tower, as it is translated in the common tongue, is that which keeps the whole of Celöndià within the power of the elves, and has changed the woods, along with the elves own magicks into what it is over the millennia’s.

Elven Architecture holds host to a myriad of whimsical designs, the most common being the houses of many elves which blend in and beautify nature itself in the form of tree houses. Tree homes are not the only sort of buildings to stand proudly in the elven city of Illidea, the palace of the elven King and Queen, and their house is built with sturdy white stones, fused with tree’s and other plants that have been magically put into place, creating a contrast of vines, leaves and fruits upon the cream colored white stones. From lofty roof of the palace rise Crystalline towers with razor thin points of colors ranging from diamond-like see through, all the way to deep azure blues and all colors in between.



Bal’Vold:
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The Jewel of the world, as it translates for the dwarves. Bal’Vold is their shining example of Dwarven skill. The western base of the mountain hosts a gate of unrivaled girth, Known as the Helvíti’s Door, god of fire and liquid earth. This gate boasts a sprawling settlement of its own around, and along the lower side of the mountain, streets rising with the terraced buildings seeming carved from raw stone.

The inside of Bal’Vold has been carved almost completely out, the very peak, opened up to allow sunlight, if only faintly, to flitter down into the depths of the Dwarves’ Halls. Inside the city spawns for miles in all directions, going up and down. More than one city is to be found within Bal’Vold, though they all retain the Mountains name. Many of the common homes are caves either natural or carved, with sturdy if simple wooden doors that expand into sprawling homes, or not so sprawling if such a dwarf happens to not be so fortunate. The dwarves have developed advanced air venting systems, keeping the mountain cool, and allowing for the smoke from cooking fires, and the like. The mountain is lit not with fire but lanterns that burn red, but do not create flames, nor smoke and great crystals that while familiar to the elves, do not have the elegance, and appear as they were found, offering off their own heatless, white lights.

The palace of the kings, whose images are forever remembered as one enters the deep halls of the Palace, line the walls with statues created in the king’s of times past honor. Tapestries that date far back into the earliest threads of time, and wall carvings depict the creation stories passed down from one Dwarven generation to the next. They detail the gods, and their ventures, and even the elves, and humans. Many things are hidden within the depths of Bal’Vold, the dwarves have dug up the earth for so long that there are countless rooms, and secrets hidden, that even they themselves have forgotten.



Vas:
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Sister city to Cyslyse . It’d be well known for it’s arts, and having a reputation for amazing architecture. Though there has been a decline, it still holds some of the most beautiful structures in all of Venn. It’s the cultural center-point of Venn, filled with dreamers, and often criticized by other cities for its peoples regionalist views. Many in Vas almost observe the outside world with disgust, considering it primitive and dark. Many nobles live in Vas, as well as Cyslyse. It’s also ridiculed for it’s obscene and wild fashion, powdered wigs, massive skirts, make-up, silks.. It’s a city of ‘culture’, almost to a point where it seems forced.



Cyslyse:
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Sister city to Vas. It’d be well known for it’s value of intellect, holding many of the laboratories and colleges of Venn, it struck an early enlightenment. It’s said a man from Cyslyse has a mind of a dozen from any other. Science, Astronomy, and Arithmetic are studied widely throughout the cities great minds, as well as many philosophers finding refuge to write in Venn’s largest, and first, library. Ancient and arcane scrolls are safeguarded in the giant stone building, only the most prestigious minds are allowed to even glimpse at them. Many nobles live in Cyslyse, as well as Vas.



Jewelstine:
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The cities name is quite fitting,a gem in the otherwise barren and wild desert. It has also survived five years of war with Venn, while all the other city-states have fallen or been occupied by the tyrant king. Still, its proud Sultan claims his wall impregnable, and so far, it'd seem that he spoke the truth. However, no matter how strong his wall may be, it cannot protect him from dehydration as Zarr's generals have dammed up his own canals, slowly, but surely, the city is running out of water.

Highly religious, the fire of cannonball is only drowned out by the prayers, every morning, and every evening, a low, cult-like chant, speaking to their god, thanking him, despite more bodies pile up every day.

Jewelstine happens to have a stockpile of gunpowder-... a rare and expensive substance, which Zarr would very much like to get a hold of. Venn has its own supplies, but they dwindle, and tales say that the black powder is as plentiful as sand in Jewelstine.

The Obsidian Desert.

The Desert's name comes from the black sands that cover the entirety of it. This was due to a massive volcano that exploded and covered the land in ash, sulphur, and death. The crater of where the volcano has created the mountins in the south of the desert where the egde of the volcano appears to been. The native, K'tzal Kotl, believe that the God of Fire, Kotl, and the Goddess of Water, X'roain, meet and consummated and at climax the volcano exploded, scattering the fifteen original K'tzal Kotl where they then made the fifteen Luza.


Biography:

Name: (Include any titles, First Name, Last name, Nicknames)

Age: (Human's are pretty easy, Dwarves live about the same life-cycles, Elves longer, use discretion!)

Gender: (Male, Female?)

Race: (Human, Elf, Dwarf, Other? Anything!)

Place of Birth: (This depends on race normally.)

Alignment: (Rebels? Neither? Monarchy? Explain who you're character sympathizes with, even if not openly. Aka Faction.)

Class: (Are they nobles, peasants, artisans? Let's hear it!)

Appearance: (What do they look like?)

Personality: (What do they act like?)

History: (Give me a summary of their life so far.)

Ambitions: (What do they hope to accomplish in life. Short term, long term.)

Current Residence?: (What city/area do they live in now, check map for reference.)

Name/Age/Race/Alignment/Username

Character List:


Zarr Titus Elderen/42/Human/Monarchy/MohawkYeah

Queen Anastasia Oppele Elderon/38/Human/Monarchy/CorinTraven

Elsa Wendolyn/23/Human/Neither/CorinTraven

A'Zoric Te'moa-us/23/K'tzal Kotl/K'tzal Kotl/Pyukaa

Name: Queen Anastasia Opelle Elderon

Age: 38

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Place of Birth: Tivembree

Alignment: Monarchy; Rebel sympathizer (to an extent.)

Class: Royalty, born to a lower-noble family .

Appearance: Anastasia has always had fair complexion, golden hair, light skin of the north. Though, her hairs luster is beginning to wane in her age, still silvery-blonde, it’d once been vibrant. Instead of making her ugly, it adds a sort of regalness to the Queen, and it compliments the silver crown she wears a majority of the time, a heavy, irritating thing. In her youth, she was often called a little elf, though her family has never mingled with the blood of the elven people. Both eyes are a innocent brown, much like a doe, it doesn’t help that her large eyes are lined with many thick lashes.

Many think she’s quite airheaded, which she does almost appear to be, ghastly, and her feeble frame gives her the appearance she could barely lift a spoon to her lips. She is not all soft though, for one, her hands are not soft, once upon a time, they’d been. But on her and Zarr’s banishment, hard living had toughened the palms, slender fingers turned hard and coarse. She stands about average, her girth made bigger by the tight corsets and elaborate dresses she wears to keep up with fashion.

Personality: She’s a quiet, polite woman. Her voice hardly ever raises above a whisper, and singly, she’d seem like a fair, just ruler. Though, more of a trophy then having any real power, her gentleness is unfelt by the people of Venn. She knows social decorum, and is accustom to gathering and chats. Strangely, she’s usually left out, others assuming her too stupid, or too slow, to be able to keep up. While most would take offense to this, the mellow mannered woman sees it almost as a blessing.

In such trying times, her own input and opinions are dangerous, as she is not in agreement with her husband on many subjects. He rarely hears of them, his wife smart enough to know better, keeping her thoughts safely guarded, where they cannot return to haunt her. She’s seen plenty who were not so willing to be quiet, their heads on pikes, or dangling from the end of a noose.

It’s curious that the woman seems not to fear her husband though, seeing him as different then before, but with grim acceptance, she has no open complaints. He’s never shown excessive cruelty toward her, and she is quick to forgive him, subconsciously nagging at herself later on, of the many woes of the common people. A part of her wishes herself less of a coward to speak up, and perhaps do something. But another, more sensible, part of her chides the foolish ideas, She was not the common person, so why should she care?

There is one object worthy of malice in the Queen’s eye, and it happens to be the creature known as Isa, regarded as a scheming-conniving beast, she who corrupted her husband, she who Ana hypocritically blames all the wrong-doings of her husband on. In Ana’s biased view, it is not Zarr, but rather the Witch causing such havoc. It may also be she is jealous of Isa, the attention Zarr gives her, just as Isa is jealous of Anastasia, both woman not being the fondest of eachother.

History: Born to a lower-noble family, Anastasia grew up comfortably in a country in turmoil. She was ignorant to the world until after she was married, at the maiden age of Fourteen, to Zarr, a bachelor of four years older. He was much more involved in politics then the young Anastasia, brilliant even then, and holding a fascination with the arcane arts of magick. Though having met only a few short months before their wedding, she had already an admiration of her fiancé, and later on, husband.

They lived comfortably for another four years, Anastasia baring two young children, when Zarr’s dabbling in darker magicks came back to bite the budding family. While serving as a Sergeant in the army, he dabbled in the magicks, perhaps a bit drunk on rage, and booze, and the next morning, woke with an officer dead, and the blood on his hands. Though he swore to Anastasia he had no part in the murder, he also claims he could not even recall the events With a quick trial, the eighteen year old Anastasia, her two young children, and Zarr were banished from Venn. The exile’s path was dangerous, and cold, with the approaching winter coming in, and their family fortune forsaken from them, they’d venture to the barbaric north, in hopes of finding haven there.

The distance was long, and both forced to carry the children the entire way, coming down with sickness, and not prepared for the frigid temperatures, it was only denial that kept Anastasia clinging the frozen infant against her breast, tears freezing before they could roll down her cheek, refusing to tell Zarr of his death. She refused to even admit it to herself, whispering, singing to the baby. When Zarr finally realized the child was dead, and forcibly pried it from her arms, they didn’t have time for a proper burial, and instead buried the child in a snowbank, towering several feet high.

A week before they reached Holli’s Pass, where they could take shelter for the rest of the winter, their older daughter was struck with fever, and she too passed. That journey seemed to kill something both in Anastasia, and Zarr, neither having spoken either child’s name since. But forgetting proved harder then simple denial.

When they settled in the north, their lives began to turn around once more. It was a tough living, but both having taken a physical and emotional toll on their journey to this backwards, northern land, they accepted any comfort with open arms. Soon, another child filled the place of their first two, a bright eyed boy, with the dark hair of his father, but the fairer complexion of his mother. The family began to heal, and it’d seem they’d spend the remainder of their lives in the north.

That was when the mysterious wench Isa appeared. And once again, the families life changed, eight years up north corrupted by the pale-faced creature, and they returned south once more. Zarr had to literally drag Anastasia half the way, swearing that it was summer, there was nothing to fear, but it was difficult for both of them to return, with their new family once more back into Venn.

This time, however, none perished-..that was, of course, until the Bloody Revolt began. Then there was much death, and five years past, Anastasia having three of Zarr’s children. Their only daughter became a Princess at two. On the throne, Ana served Zarr well, but quietly, the court seeming to disregard the woman, even he seemed to forget her some of the time. It was always worst when he was overtaken with fits, he didn’t seem to remember much of anyone. Except for that harpy Isa. Now, their eldest Daniaris, is a man of nineteen, then Maximus a boy of fourteen, and their youngest Micella, ten.

Ambitions: Raise her family, and she has desires of helping the common man.

Current Residence?:Orjota Castle.

Queen Anastasia Oppele Elderon/38/Human/Monarchy/CorinTraven





Name: Elsa Wendolyn

Age: Twenty-three

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Place of Birth: Orjota

Alignment: Neither

Class: Peasant

Appearance: Elsa’s hair is a chocolate brown, cut shirt and wispy around her face, to defend from lice, as well as it gets troublesome when it gets in her eyes. Still, it’s quite shaggy, and not being the most hygienic of people, unwashed. She’s no great show of strength, being lanky and gangly in a way, having a tough diet, some nights she gorges herself, other nights, she starves. So muscles doesn’t have much of a time to develop, though she spends a lot of time running about, causing trouble, and finding any food she can. Her face is angular, with two dark almond eyes to match her tanner skin.
A few have mistaken Elsa for a boy, which she doesn’t mind all that much, it’s safer to be a small boy in the ghettos, then any sort of girl.

She is a bit above average in height, though not broad, nor very womanly in the hips and chest. All is well though, as Elsa never plans to marry, nor mother any children. She’s dressed often in a assortment of clothing, long sleeved shirt, heavy, dark skirt. Around her shoulders is a sort of shawl she can pull up for a hood if the winds or rains get to harsh, often serving as the woman’s blanket. She’s well accustom to sleeping outside, when she’s too far from her small tenet building to make it safely and nights fast approaching, maybe if it’s particularly warm outside, or she’s let her payment to the landlord slip her mind.

She has an odd pocket watch too, silvery, its outside cover engraved with strange markings, a sizable gem surrounded by much smaller ones. She considers this her soul valuable possession, though the clock-piece has never worked for her, it’s gained her attraction and fondness, and the girl would never pawn it. Plus, on the inside, there’s a mirror(cracked, but a mirror none-the-less!) And it hangs from a silvery chain.

Personality: She’s a character, that’s one thing that could be say about Elsa. Not of the best linage, her words are crude, and her methods cruder. Life is difficult, and thus, it carved her into a difficult woman, quick to change to better suit her own survival, but bitterly stubborn when her ways are threatened. A few would call her ‘dumb’, and she’d probably tell ‘um to piss off. So, she doesn’t know how to read, books were for pansies anyway.

She’s got some street-smarts, like most common people, her days are a mixture of superstition, and the need for survival. She’s not a cruel person, but Elsa hardly has time to look after anyone besides number one, herself! She’s not above stealing, lying, and trickery, but she believes if someone falls into one of her traps, it’s their own fault. However, she is no thug, never had she threatened violence on anyone that didn’t deserve it. Sure, she’ll punch someone in the nose, but she’s not going to rob some little old lady hobbling home. She likes to think she’s got /some/ morals!

History: Elsa’s entire life has been one big war, after another. Tough times atop of tough times, so when Zarr gained power eight years ago, she didn’t notice much of a change. She’d been the daughter of a whore and one of her clients, and by twelve, she was living independently, knowing only one thing; She did not want to take after the same business as her mother. The siege of the city was terrifying for the then 15 year old girl. But it was the peasant uprising-..with a new General at it’s head, one she’d never heard about before hand. When the gates to Orjota opened, and she was alive to see the day, one could not say she was relieved, and overtaken with the celebrating spirit that the entire city erupted with.

Well, almost the entire city, the Royalty and their close advisors were not celebrating, rather, rotting on pikes. She was swept in this sense of a new-beginning, a better life...no longer would she savage as a street rat and barely get by! She’d even found that silver timepiece. But a week later, she was still hungry-..but hopeful. A month, starving, but still in her breast, she felt the hope. By a year, she was back to normal, the hope dying inside her, and she’d practically forgotten the whole siege thing, preoccupied with such things as surviving. For the following eight years, her life was just as primitive and urge-driven, though she did finally have a home, at least most of the time. It was leaky, small, and the landlord made her pay bitterly for the rat-infested place, but it was a home, and Elsa was satisfied!

She is content with her life as it is now, though still hungry, she’s better off then when she was younger. She’s too caught up with surviving to worry about the tyranny of Zarr, her foresight only stretching days in advance, at it’s thinnest.

Ambitions: She just wants a simple living, enough bread to eat, perhaps a place to sleep, and if it’s not too much to ask, she’d be really content if that bed was a pile of gold.

Current Residence?: Orjota slums.

Elsa Wendolyn/23/Human/Neither/CorinTraven

http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/...ps7af381ab.jpg
(A young Zarr)

Zarr

Name: King Zarr Titus Elderen/The Witch King/The Ursuper

Age: Fourty-two

Gender: Male

Alignment: Monarchy

Class: The king of Venn

Appearance: The Witch King, The Usurper of Venn, Zarr. He stands head and shoulders above many of his most valiant men, with eyes as black as coal, and skin sun kissed, though he is rarely to be sighted outside of his citadel, deep within the ancient city of Örjóta. His torso is trim, his arms bulging. Zarr has kept himself mentally and physically in peak condition as he continues to pursue his kingly whims. His face holds host to a crimson red tattoo embedded upon his left cheek, abstractly forming the shape of a hawk with a single black eye. He constantly maintains a cropped beard, and a full head of short, cobalt black hair. Atop his head rests the crown ordered by himself to be forged for his coronation, using the melted down royal jewels that held linages that linked some of them to some of the finest Elven and Dwarven smiths to ever live. The New crown, formed to look like the head of a phoenix, with its wings splayed wide, two ruby gems for each of the eye sockets, and crafted from solid gold, with the wings coated in textured silver. The crown was a symbol of his line upon the throne and a foreshadowing of his feelings towards the other dominate races.


Personality: Zarr is Alpha Male, he has never followed others, always taking the lead in things. Zarr might have at one time valued human life, not any longer. The nobles, the peasants, they do not see what is truly best for them or their children. They cannot, they are shortsighted, and full of emotions they allow to run wild. It takes a truly great leader to make the hard decisions; to do what no other wises to do. In time, all will bow down and thank him for his great service to human kind. The time of the other races is drawing to a close, it is time for the Humans to unite, under his wise and strict leadership, and dominate the world, with him as their leader.

Death, it is something others appear to fear most vehemently, murder, killing. Isa has aided in opening his eyes, though such thoughts had already taken root long before their meeting. Why does it matter if a child is killed, if it saves thousands more? A woman, a man? One single person cannot stand in the way of change, and revolution. Isa has been the ear piece he never had, Anastasia is what she is, he would never think to harm her, and she is far from the air head he knows the pompous oafs flaunting around their round stomachs, and fine clothes they hold so dearly. Isa understands him, his plans, and his ambitions. All are cogs in his master plan, and no valiant fools, believing they are superior to him will get in his way.

History:

Zarr was born and raised within the noble society of the kingdom of Venn. The house was no the most powerful, richest, or influential of the houses, but it was a respected house none the less. He was the sole heir to house Elderen, and as such received the greatest tutors the house could afford. Zarr was trained in all the various Arts of Chivalry, and at the age of six discovered to one of the few humans blessed with the skills of magic. Politics became a central role within the boys learning, and while he exceled when an effort was made. It was more likely to find the boy, bursting with energy somewhere on the families sprawling estate, busying himself with the natural world or playing games with the other children of the house. As he aged, his energy turned towards a more rebellious side, he had always been a fiery lad, and it seemed only to increase as he entered his teens. He was an eloquent speaker, and it was soon clear that if the family could manage to iron out some of the boys “Rough Edges” he would soon bring the house much political clout, even as the lands beneath them dropped further and further into dissent and turmoil.

That is when it happened, Zarr’s father, Lord Elderen made arrangements for the boy of Seventeen to enter the kings army. There he would finally learn to curb his tongue, and respect his elders, while making a way for the lad to vent himself physically and mentally. Alas, the plan was doomed to back fire. Zarr despised his family and house for sending him away, taking the young man away from everything and everyone he had ever known. Eventually Zarr found he enjoyed the military, they pushed him mentally and physically beyond what he believed he could do along with giving him the skills he would need to survive in the harshest of situations.
As Zarr turned the age of eighteen, he was asked home by his house, leave being given by the king himself, at his family’s request. Zarr had risen quickly in the ranks; his magical dabbling’s giving him an edge, with his cunning mind, and his silver tongue. He returned to a hero’s welcome, a feast held in his honor. Returning from the life of a soldier, albeit one of high social rank, was not as easy an adjustment for Zarr as it could have been. He was happy to be back with his family, and news that a fiancé had been found were both more than an interesting turn of events. Yet, he found it hard to be idle as Noble life was compared to that of a solider.

In the passing months, he was soon betrothed to the ever fair Anastasia, a woman of exceptional beauty and a mind that was more than agile enough to match his own, they were a surprisingly well matched couple, and it was not long after that they moved away from his Families Estate to one of their own. Eventually he would inherit his father’s fortune, but for now he would live on the fund that was allotted to him. Zarr eventually returned to the Kings Militia, and for the next four years rose in prominence to the rank of Sergeant.

His wife bore him two children during those years of sweet memories, and Zarr’s fascination with the Arcane arts seemed to only intensify as his rise in rank allowed for more spare time. Zarr had his whole life ahead of him, he would one day be a retired general, head of House Elderen, with a beautiful daughter, and a son as his heir. He would dominate the kingdoms politics and bring glory to his family’s lineage and name. At least that was what he imagined to be the extent of his life, the reality was far from it. Things had gone well, a promotion was soon to be in order, then news came of creatures moving out from The Grænn Wastes in the north. It was more than likely a raid of bandits from the north, who had scared the locals – a superstitious lot – into believing they were something more. That is not to say that the men of the North were any less fearsome, they are brutal, savage men. With bodies and strength that far surpass many of the men that hold residence within the more gentle lands of Venn. The fighting was short lived; Zarr was a natural commander, and a born leader. The Wild men of the North were easily hunted down, and his Calvary took out many of the men in a single swoop.

As the fighting came to a close, half naked bodies strewn on the earth, mingling with their own pools of blood, Zarrs men celebrated. It was then that all he had known was truly shattered, Zarr had grown different as he aged, and the strictness of the Kings Army had done just as his Father had hoped it would. There was one time, when Zarr would lose such control, when drinking. The celebration went on late into the night, and Zarr had far more than his feel of strong drink. It was then that his men, with loosened tongues began to speak openly about the plight of their homeland. Sickness plagued cities, people were starving, and eventually one way or another one of the dumber of the men let his mouth run about Zarr’s sweet Anastastia. It was no secrect he had a beautiful wife, and many of the men had spotted her at one moment or another. The drunken soilder began to get crude, and Zarr’s anger soon boiled over with the release that the alcohol bayed him.The two men began to scuffle, the smaller dumber man, managing to land a few blows upon his commanding officer, only furthering his rage which was quickly flying out of control. It was only in sheer luck that Zarr did not kill himself, his muddled mind could have easily miss-pronounced one of the arcane words, or the spell could have easily drained him of his life force. The man’s veins engorged with blood, and his mouth and eyes soon ran over with the crimson liquid that once ran through his veins. The drunken solider writhed in agony upon the dusty earth, as he slowly bled to death due to Zarr’s spell. It was something he had been studying; he never intended to use it, at least not without just cause, for it was the forbidden sort of magic. Once the spell was uttered, nothing could stop it, and the next day Zarr awoke to his men with weapons pointed at the ready, blood having stained his tunic, and hands.

There was no question as to what had happened, and the men how feared him deeply. Normally this sort of thing would have been dealt with a slap to the wrist; he was a noble of course. They had rights above that of the common peasants, but the man Zarr had murdered was the son of the most influential house of the time, and the news soon spread that Zarr was his murder. The house pressed for charges, and in the end, there was nothing to be done. His honor ruined, his ranks stripped, and he himself banished along with his young family from the land they called home. Stripped of any possessions except for those they could carry on their backs.

Zar considered fleeing to the Dwarven city of Bal’Vold, they would surely allow them to at least stay for a while. The Wastes were so close though, and they would have to follow the ocean’s edge to keep away, which hosted its own dangers, including recent rumors of Mermaid sightings in the Area. No, Zarr would go to the North, the people were hardy there, he knew so by those he had fought. The trek was long, and arduous and as they made their way north, his wife and two very young children. The baby boy, his heir, began to get sick, as did his young daughter, they had carried the children for much of the trip, their horses have long died of exhaustion, and cold. It was only by the skills Zarr had learned while in the Army that the family made it as far as they had, and as they neared Holly Pass, so close. A snow storm blew in, sending the couple to take shelter within a cave. It was here that Zarr realized his son had died, his body cold, and pale. Rigid in his mother’s arms, he tried to pry the dead child from his precious Anastasia, only to have her fight him. His anger grew, his grip like steel pincers as pried the child from its mothers arms, in the freezing night, tears fell liberally down the once proud noble mans face. He held the child himself for some time, and as the storm died down, they did what they must down, the snow to thick. They buried him in a snowbank, several feet deep and parted ways. Their daughter was soon to follow her baby brother, taken by fever.

Zarr Cursed the gods, cursed the King of Venn, and all who had sent his children to their deaths. Life went on, though, Zarr never forgot how he had been the cause of the loss of his family, his wife had nothing, she was not used to such a life and it took her much time to adjust. Zarr was far from used to such a life himself, and the back breaking labor of day to day life was a new experience that allowed the couple to forget. Though each time his eyes laid upon his precious wife, the loss would rise up to his throat once more, and for half a moment he was not sure how he still managed to survive.

Life flowed on, as it does for everyone. So too did Zarr and Anastasia’s, they made a living for themselves slowly gaining the trust of the Northern Tribes, at least enough to trade with. Eventually they even had children once more, first came a son. Another boy with eyes that Zarr felt he could see the night sky in, then another child, and another. Two boys, and a young girl. During this time, around the birth of the first boy, a mysterious woman appeared, she fascinated Zarr. She was clearly a witch, a powerful witch. Their meeting had been strange, she appeared young, very young. Though Zarr was to intelligent to be so simple, she was old, far older then any being he had ever met. Isa that was the witches name, she fascinated Zarr, she knew things, things that he could never comprehend. Eventually she began to reveal herself to him, then came the promises. Promises of power, revenge, knowledge. She offered him what he needed, the tools to force all men to bow their knee to him, whether they chose to or not. He would learn from her, raise his children, and make those that had wronged him pay a hundred fold for his losses.

The years went by quickly, learning from the Witch Isa. The north tribes feared her, and stayed away from the family when they were able to. Zarr’s magical strength grew mighty under unsettling gaze of Isa. He started to become distant from his family, much of his time spent studying and mastering the techniques, many lost, or forbidden, and most were combination of the two. It was then that Zarr made his move, little word came from the southern lands, though one thing had reached Zarr’s Ears. Revolt, dissent was everywhere within the southern kingdom, the peasents were beginning to revolt.

Zarr used his new powers of bewitchment, with his natural skills of leading, and honeyed words to snag the warriors of a one of the northen tribes. Mighty men, of great stature, half clothed, and hungry for the glory surely such a man as this would lead them towards their goal. Zarr gathered up his family, physically carrying Anastia half the way, and they began their assult upon the Northen most villages. Zarr was intelligent, the kingdom was a pot ready to boil over, and he masterfully gave speeches in each village and city he conquered. Keeping his men from pillaging the cities in excess, and soon garnered a peasant milita that far out numbered the men he had started the campain with. Cities errupted into blood baths, many nobles fleeing their estates as the peasants rose up with word spreading a man from the north had come to liberate the people from the Tyrany of the preasent rule.

Zarr fought in all the of battles, and the skills that Isa had taught him, made him a god upon the field of battle. He swung his blade with the force of three men, felled soilders with a twitch of his wrist, and appeared to stop many a killing blow that men tried to inflict upon him.Though tales were soon spun of even greater feats that in reality were false. It was from these deeds Zarr would later earn the title of The Witch King. When the final march began upon Örjóta, Zarr entered the Ancient Palace with Isa at his side, a smug, confident look upon his face as he systematically slaughtered every man, woman and child that came in his path in cold Vengeance. The battle was a swift victory, many of the king’s militia having changed sides when the first series of battles upon the Capital city sprung up. Zarr made it his sole duty to remove the Royal family from Existence, and also that of house that ordered his banishment in the first place.
Thus this is how Zarr, The Usuper, The Witch King came into prominence, promising the people a new order, and the betterment of all men, despite their social class. Anastasia remained by his side through it all. Their two sons being crowned princes, and their daughter a princess, rising up from the murky void of banishment. Now came the true plans of Zarr, discovery of cannons caught the attention of the The Witch Kings eyes, and he soon began another bloody war with the southern city of Jewelstine, and it neighbors. His hunger for power was unceasing, Isa had told him up the opulence that the dwarves lived in, and their ancient city filled with Artifacts that might allow him to perform what he now obsessively had come to study in the coming months of his reign.

Time wore on, the peasants settled back in, as did many of the nobles, and Zarr continued his plans, dissent soon spread, through both the noble houses that remained, and the current population. Many of the men though were busy, fighting the wars Zarr had plunged them into, an intelligent move if he said so himself. They did not see the grand picture, his world would take time, many would perish, but that is how the world works. In the end, it would be better, for everyone. The noble houses began to fund, quietly a small force that had risen up against his hold. This was to be expected, in times of crisis such things occur, unfortunately they were becoming tenacious, and word had even spread they had allied with the Dwarves, and Desert Cities. This infuriated Zarr, and he began to quietly order the deaths of Nobles suspected of treason against him.

Thus it has been eight long years of Zarr Titus Elderen’s rule, filled with great bloodshed, and broken promises.

Ambitions: Zarr seeks to enact his own plans upon his people, and the rest of the world.

Current Residence?: Örjóta.

Zarr Titus Elderen/42/Human/Monarchy/MohawkYeah

Caleb, you should add to the races that there are more then that.

Updated Several things, better race explanations, and added factions!

You never added Zarr to your character list.

Well, I'm going to express my interest and maybe make a character as well. Regardless, the thread gets a well deserved bump. Also question, is it unheard of to be partially hybrid? I'm not talking half-breed, but having a great-grandparent be an elf while everyone else in the bloodline is human. (So that would be...12.5% elf?)

Well, that would be sort of impossible, as half-breeds are usually sterile. But if you could come up with a suitable reason why he has a bit of elf blood in him, I wouldn't have an issue! If the guy was a bit elf, he'd probably not know it because elves have not been seen in the human lands for over a hundred years.

If you've got any more questions, I'll try my best to answer them!

Ahh, okay. I was kind of banking on the fact that there was a rumor that humans were descendants of elves, and thought of the neanderthal and homo sapien intermingling. Looks like its more like the horse and donkey thing that happens. Anyways, another question. How long has it been since the Empire came across gunpowder? How prevalent is it? Are muskets, blunderbusses in limited use yet, or are they prototypes/still being developed?

There are only very, very, very basic cannons, nothing past that. No guns, or anything with something close to accuracy.