This is the OOC for the RP 'Era of an Empire: The Drakenor Basin', a character driven RP set in the era of the Griaten Empire. I hope that this will become the start of a shared world of RPs where characters can continue long after the end of this tale. But for now, this opening story.
There will be more information in this OOC, but because I know many of you are impatient for a simple synopsis:
The Graften Empire is in a slow decline; the magic that it used to bring itself to the pinnacle of civilisation is gone, leaving a whole country in danger of falling to pieces. An Imperial Warden has been dispatched by decree to the Drakenor Basin, the North-most part of the Empire on an important mission for the Imperiatrix: the ruler of the Empire.
You are citizens, willing or not, of the Empire and so have heard about the strange figure visiting your region. Whether out of curiosity, greed, patriotism or sheer desperation you have come to the city of Sotalle to see the beginning of this quest.
This is a quest which will change your life forever, it will change the history of this land forever and, perhaps most importantly, will change the Empire forever.
Will you become a valiant adventurer and change events around you? Or will you allow events to change you?
I look forward to finding out.
The glorious Graften Empire has stood for over a millennia; ruling wisely and well over its dominion and seeking to bring civilisation and welfare beyond its borders.
Its beginnings were humble; in the days when civilisation was not even a concept and roving packs of marauders roamed the land, a young boy watched his own father be brutally murdered by a local warlord and vowed that things would be better.
That boy’s name: Bolder the Fell, our founding father.
The young Bolder was trained in the ways of the Sword by his father’s friends and in the Word by the magical Wordsmiths of Drarelle and returned to seek justice on his father’s killer. Slaying the warlord, Bolder claimed his enemy’s band as his own, he then began his long quest for peace.
Within ten years, all the marauding packs in the land that would become Graften were under Bolder’s command. The young leader then led his people to claim the land that would become the Inner Regions of the Empire. Setting up trade and peaceful relations with neighbouring states, Bolder was at peace.
Official Rendering of Bolder The Fell: Founding Father of the Graften Empire.
But our great founder was betrayed! Assassins from the outlying lands killed Bolder the Fell in his own chambers. Leadership of Graften fell to Bolder’s son, Mortan, who launched a righteous crusade upon his father’s killers, so expanding Graften’s borders and claiming fealty from the regions beyond. Like his father, Mortan was trained in the Word; which he used to maintain his leadership. Mortan ruled for thirty years, at the end of which, Graften was secure and powerful. As such, Bolder’s line has always ruled Graften as Imperator or Imperiatrix, making Imperial law and leading our great nation to greater glory.
There were great advancements made in the empire; magic was harnessed to power our great machines and factories. The populace’s every want was met, foreign relations couldn’t have been greater, it seemed like things were perfect.
A machine powered by magic.
However, dark times were approaching.
There was, over three decades ago, a revolt in the capital; a faction of the Wordsmiths, whose allegiance to the Imperiatrix of the time had previously been beyond reproach, attempted to launch a coup and take the throne. While the vile traitors were slaughtered the Imperiatrix wept and ordered that the order were to be put to death.
The Wordsmiths who had not rebelled against the Empire were conscripted into a new order of enforcers for the Imperiatrix and her successors. Their wills were tested and subjugated to the will of the ruler of the Empire. Rumours went around that it was magic which held these survivors under Imperial sway, that their true loyalties were overridden. Such rumours quickly disappeared when the Wardens were deployed.
An Imperial Warden
Not content with the pain they had already caused, the surviving Wordsmiths banded together on their island of Drarelle and launched a terrible attack upon Wardens sent to cull them. The skies crackled with fire, lightning and other more terrible sights for days before the Wordsmiths were defeated. The Wardens marched into the enclave of their brothers and did not emerge until all the Wordsmiths had been slain. However, as the last of the traitors were being killed, the Grand Wordsmith unleashed a terrible curse. Upon his death the ability to harness magic became problematic; spells that had seemed infallible became unreliable and many people who relied upon magic were injured or even killed instantly.
It soon became clear that the magical sources that supplied the empire with power were no longer producing anything new. As such, all magic fell under Imperial custody. Any items containing magic were confiscated and used to keep the Empire’s production from grinding to a halt.
More recently, ten years ago, the nearby province of Jadorin was annexed by Imperial decree under the charge of harboring rogue magic users. The Wardens single-handedly annihilated the island’s inhabitants. This act drove the survivors of Jadorin to the Murky Isles where they joined the criminals and pirates who resided there.
The Wardens left a wasteland behind them.
Around the same time, the bodies of the dead were dug up on Imperial decree, their residual magic was to be used to power the Empire’s machines and defences. This led to riots in the cities of the Empire; however, such demonstrations and disturbances were put down swiftly. Leaving the people with little choice but to obey.
Our current Imperiatrix is the very same who ordered the cull of the Wordsmiths half a century pervious. She sits atop a crimson throne, surrounded by guards and advisors. Many people in the capital whisper that she is a witch, a monster, others say that she has been killed and that the Wardens or her ‘advisors’ rule from an empty throne.
The Crimson Throne
Recently, Wardens have been spotted travelling out from the capital towards the edges of the Empire. What this might mean, there are many rumours, bit little in the way of truth.
The world has known of Magic since the first legends and tales of its beginning. While many dismiss the existence of deities and supernatural beings, few will argue against the belief that the World was created using some form of Magic. Indeed, in the old days, wandering magicians were often hired to create and maintain life that the people simply could not. Several of the elders in the Empire owe their lives to such folk who had kept Death from their cradles.
While Magic is accepted as a genuine form of power; many philosophers debate its physical representation. Many suggest, and make up the common view, that Magic is merely energy and thus is no different from any other fuel or source of energy. Others claim that Magic has a consciousness and strives to maintain the balance of the world, only helping the just and so on. Still more scholars argued that Magic was part of the soul of every living being, that it helped contain our lifeforce.
The debate then turns to how such an inherent goodness can exist when magic can be used in necromancy and other dark arts. Regardless, this debate has raged on and is covered in many tomes such as ‘The Ethics of Magic’, ‘Magic and Machinery’ and ‘Bollocks: The Guide for any Practitioner in the Use of Magyk’.
An order of Magicians came to prominence with the rise of the Graften Empire; the Wordsmiths. Their principle was that, while Magic could be harnessed by the layman through the correct gestures, incantations or summoning, surely it would be safer to bind Magic to specific words, phrases or utterances. And so, on Imperial mandate: the Wordsmiths created a new language for Magic, binding it to control words of their own design. This drew a great deal of ire from other magicians and placed the Wordsmiths in danger until the Imperator of the time ordered the inclusion of all independent magicians into the Wordsmiths. Any who refused were killed or disappeared into hiding.
With their control words, the Wordsmiths could have held a monopoly on the use of Magic in the Empire. However, they taught the populace the phrases needed to aid their day-to-day lives and placed words of power onto the Empire’s machines and buildings to keep them running and safe.
Magic in its purest form.
This was the way things went in the Empire for centuries until the culling of the wordsmiths. Upon the destruction of the Wordsmith enclave in Drarelle, the mechanisms and encantations that held the control words in place were nullified. More importantly, it appeared that the removal of the Wordsmiths had an effect on the production of Magic in the world. The sacred places and hallowed grounds in the Empire simply died or fell to ruin. The Empire’s factories and lifestyle grounded to a halt.
Panicked research into this phenomena led to the discovery that items of power still retained their charge. Any relics or items blessed with magical presence still functioned as normal. It was only those with words of power placed upon them that had ceased to function.
And so, any items of power or magical items were immediately seized by the Imperial armies, workforce and other departments and were immediately thrown to the production lines to make more weapons, armor and wards for soldiers abroad. However, soon this source dried up also. And so it was decreed that the souls of the deceased were now under Imperial custody; which was a nice way of saying that the bodies of the dead were to be the new fuel for the Empire.
Magic is appearing to be the cause of the Empire’s slow grind to a standstill in its mission of expansion and charity. Many are clamoring to move away from magic altogether and to rely on the cruder means of their ancestors.
Any items of power or a means to replenish the Empire’s dwindling reserves of Magic are worth a fortune; leading many to embark on quests or to attempt to deceive the representatives of the Empire with copies. Such attempts never end well. Similarly, many have claimed that certain landmarks in their regions were once focal sites for magic and that magic originated from such sites. Such theories have been widely crushed by advanced scholars, who claim that there is no evidence for such powers coming from landmarks or locations.
Magic in its purest essence, manifests itself as a clear blue substance, like water, except liquid is not necessarily its only form; there have been accounts of magic sand, magic dust, magic trees, magic stones, magic creatures even. However, those who handle Magic can rarely describe its appearance. Instead they prefer to describe the intense feelings that it gave them; most say that the kick they felt upon coming into possession of it left them ‘catatonic in the best possible way’ Physical representations of magic often arouse feelings of intense paranoia in one who possesses it. Very few who have come into contact with it ever are unharmed by either their fellows or themselves. The Empire had numerous warnings relating to the safe handling of such a rarity; however, since its disappearance, such occurrences have become minimal, if true at all.
While there are many legends of races of man-cats or sentient sea life under the waters; humanity is the only recognised form of sentient life in the Empire.
Religion was outlawed upon the formation of the Empire for fear that it would not aid the unity of the people. However, small cults have grown in popularity and recognition.
The Cult to Bolder was immensely popular for centuries, with many from all walks of life joining the peaceful and solemn Remembrants of the Empire’s founder. This cult has essentially been adopted into the Empire’s festivals, holding many days of remembrance for Bolder whilst claiming that he will return one day.
The Cult of the Word grew almost immediately upon the culling of the Wordsmiths. This group sought to replicate the success of their parent order by creating new control words for Magic. However, this was a group comprised of the idle rich and the admirers of the Wordsmiths and so their success was minimal.
Other cults exist but many are in hiding, for fear of being removed by the Wardens.
Imperial convention dictates that, upon an Imperial decree, any officer of the Empire had dispensation to call up Imperial subjects who were willing to aid in their task. This was more relevant before the formation of the Imperial Army, when officers of the Empire were essentially roving lawmen who needed to bring in a tough criminal or a gang of bandits. However, the official licence is still the same.
To place a call, the questgiver must place his weapon into the road that will be taken as a sign that he/she will not bear arms until they begin their quest. Then he/she must issue their task to the public and the wind will carry their words to those who are chosen by fate to accompany the questgiver. It is said that this occurs due to some form of mild magic but this is hotly debated. Regardless, the questgiver must then remain in the area for a minimum of one night before they begin their quest. If no one responds to their summons, the questgiver may only issue their quest again once in another city or town.
The Drakenor Basin:
The Graften Empire:
The Drakenor Basin is located at the North most point of the Griften Empire. As a result, the Empire’s territory, while vast, is a great deal smaller than if one were to travel south and so can be divided into specific areas.
Towers of Vigilance:
Dotted along the roads of the Empire are guard towers; built to hold garrisons of soldiers and the occasional traveller in need.
Johan is a large city on the edge of the Empire’s territory. As such, the settlement has gained a reputation for being the place where political refugees and exiles go to escape their sentence but who still wish to remain in the Empire. A slightly battered city, Johan is suspended above the water, not by magic, but with modern technology that keeps it stable. One of the points of Northern trade in the Empire, Johan is under Imperial protection, even at this worrisome time.
Built around an inn, this small town has a reputation for a friendly and uncaring atmosphere. Too small to be worried by the Empire’s authorities and too large to be attacked by roving bandits, this town has weathered the test of time very well.
Built along the cliffs that lead to the ocean, Gliam is the Empire’s meanest, toughest and nastiest prison. The guards serving here are the veterans of several wars fought for the Imperiatrix; this is because they are the only ones capable of keeping the prisoners in this hellhole under control. The penalty for attempted escape is death; the penalty for any misdemeanour committed whilst in this prison is death. To be locked in here, you have to be irredeemable.
A small area of estate, reserved for the ruling family if they come to visit the Northern reaches of their Empire. The penalty for trespassing is death.
The capital of the Empire’s Northern Province; the running of this section of the Empire goes on here. The city is beautiful to the eye and very well protected. Markets run every day and families feel safe within its walls. However, on the lower section of the city, there is a large criminal presence and many fear it will spill into the upper regions.
A ruin of the old capital that was sacked by the Imperial Army when the Graften Empire claimed the area; left in memorial and as a warning, Blomache is officially empty. However, there is a sizeable bandit base within the ruins. Provided with a good cover from both authorities and elements, the gangs residing here feel untouchable. There were rumours of a magical source in the area but, since magic vanished, such tales cannot be validated anymore.
This small town was closed and quarantined five years ago due to a plague outbreak; it is unknown if anyone is even alive inside.
A small fishing village; Roche is important to the Empire only for its dock which is often used by traders to bring their goods into the Empire. However, its prime location often leaves it vulnerable to pirate attacks.
The Murky Isles are a lawless domain outside the jurisdiction of the Empire. Well known for being the ports of call for pirates and bandits who manage to escape the long arm of the law. The Isles usually maintain some semblance of order under the command of a Pirate Lord, usually the veteran of countless skirmishes and the richest pirate in the area. However, the Isles are currently in a state of Civil War as two factions try to place their leaders in control of the lawless.
The closest point of call to the Empire in the Murky Isles is the small village of Clert; traditionally under the protection of the Pirate Lord, most of the lawless avoid the small settlement. However, it maintains an uneasy atmosphere and many of its villagers carry weapons very close. The people here are helpful but sullen, very quick to step back the moment they are able.
The stronghold of the lawless under the banner of Golt. Sesto is a fortress, plain and simple, the main area is on a cliff overlooking the other Isles. Since the elevation of the island allows for effective ambushes, the pirates under Golt have remained effectively protected. The stronghold itself is a loose collection of wooden buildings constructed onto heavy wooden supports. The people within are fully committed to their fight against the supporters of Cale and are highly suspicious of visitors.
Housed in a network of caves only accessible from the docks on its island, Morin is a small kingdom unto itself. Built to house those pirates who could afford it if ever hunted down by the Empire, Morin can stand under siege for years. Currently housing those lawless loyal to Cale, Morin is a fortress under marshall rule. As such, tensions are high and any false move could get many killed. However, the luxuries of the pirate nobility are still present here and so offer anyone who breaks the siege great rewards if they can but reach this subterranean nest.
Other locations will be revealed when we go there. I have to have some secrets now don’t I?
I’m quite content to let you decide what sort of character you want to be, warrior, bandit, rogue, archer, thief, etc. Have fun with it but bear in mind that I will say if I think something won’t work in the context of the story. So no ‘World Ender’s!
Also, feel free to use any of the locations that I have named for your origin. Just remember, I will be expecting a history that follows the information on here. That's why I've made the locations quite open.
Feel free to create your own lore whilst creating a character; the only thing I'm going to be quite strict on is that you cannot wield magic. You may have been able to before but not anymore. I will be reading the character sheets posted so don't try to sneak in a 'world ender'!
Class: What sort of character are you?
Appearance: Preferably some form of picture but I encourage detail with writing too.
Origin: Where do you come from?
Equipment: Nothing too extravagant.
Personality: What sort of person are you?
History: What brought you to where you are now?
I solemnly swear that by creating and posting a character sheet the following terms and conditions apply:
- I will respect my other players in and out of game.
- I will respect the decisions made by the GM.
- I will not play God in this RP.
- I will post as my character enough to keep up with the story and accept that if I fall too far behind that my character will suffer the most horrible fate that the GM can come up with at the time.
- I recognize that the GM is a wonderful, fantastic, utterly amazing person who I would dearly love to come and have brunch with me sometime.
- I acknowledge that if I read this contract, I am a stickler for details and so deserve a treat.
Class: Imperial Warden
Wearing the terrifying garb of the Wardens, Keldur easily stands out among a crowd; this is something that he uses to his advantage. His great height casts him above anyone standing near to him.
Origin: Drarelle in the Wordsmith Enclave. He has no memory of a time before this.
Equipment: Keldur's weapon of choice is the long spear that most of the Wardens carry. Whilst an effective tool when combined with his long reach, the spear can be pulled away from the hilt to reveal a long broadsword.
The armor under Keldur's cloak is heavy and leaves few places open to attack. In addition, it carries a forbidding aura with it, terrifying even the hardiest of warriors. Keldur's belt holds many items of use and not, unfortunately, few can be seen under his cloak. However, one can make out chains wrapping around the Warden's shoulder right under the cloak. These do not look pleasant.
Like all the Warden's tools, Keldur's armor and equipment is magically charged.
Skills: Keldur is one of the few beings in the Empire to have been able to wield Magic at its most potent. This has given him a resistance to magic and a soundness of mind when in contact with the physical substance.
The Warden is an excellent physical fighter and has experience in most forms of combat. He is also blessed with great strength and focus.
Personality: Keldur has a canny mind and an understanding of the subtleties of man. He does not, however, care for anything beyond his mission. Emotionally, the Warden is cold and distant; and yet there is such a melancholy and sadness to him when not observed. Fanatically loyal to the Imperiatrix, Keldur will defend his lady against all threats, both physical and metaphorical.
History: Like all the Wardens, Keldur's past is linked to the old Wordsmiths. His life as a Warden has caused his former existence to fade away in the memory until few people, other than the Imperiatrix herself, could ever swear to have met him specifically and not another Warden.
Recently, Keldur has been travelling on the road to the Northern region of the Empire on a matter of supreme importance. He is soon to arrive in the city of Sotalle.
Here is my character, I look forward to reading through yours:
Name: Radan Undyer
Radan doesn't possess above average height but is roughly around six feet, give or take. He also isn't very muscular either, whether that is a family trait or not is unknown. Radan is rather athletic, or lean, in build, however he does bear a toned body as opposed to someone that is inherently skinny. He is a very handsome young man as well, doing his best to keep clean shaven (though at times he becomes forgetful about the task) and his face is without blemish. His hair, however, is a different story - always messy, flowing this way and that, yet its nightly color goes well with his skin tone.
Origin: Radan hails from the outskirts of Sotalle, though spent much of his childhood growing up within the city itself.
Equipment: Radan main weapon of choice is his composite bow. If you were to ask him his single most prized possession, this would be his answer. The weapon itself, being no name, is of some value, having been claimed by Radan during one of his many contracts. Yew, oak, animal glue and other materials make up the composition of the bow. The color is a slight yellowish, with a black rubber handle in the center of the bow where Radan's hand would go. Radan's quiver itself is able to contain thirty arrows, all of them constructed by the mercenary himself. They have very fine black goose feathers with straight arrowhead tips (google Greek arrowheads) made of steel. Attached to the quiver is a pouch/bag that holds spare bowstrings, arrowheads, etc. The other notable weapon that Radan has is his longsword. This, much like his bow, is simple yet well maintained. It is a bright (and very sharp) steel hand and a half sword, with a simple iron cross guard and a brown leather grip. The pommel itself is round. The sword, whom Radan has affectionately bestowed the name Love on, rests in a brown sheath at his left hip.
Radan's armor is just as plain as his weaponry. Being an archer, though not afraid to get up close as well, Radan prefers movement over protection. He wears an iron chain mail shirt underneath his black leather garb. His pants are black, his boots are black, his cloak (though muddy and torn at the bottom) is black. The brooch that holds the cloak together is silver and belt buckle is as well. On his shoulders are light iron pouldrons and on his wrists are braces of the same material. That is the only protection that Radan has. On his person is a back at his left hip, containing currency, a water skin, among other useful items.
Skills: Radan is a very quick, graceful man. He is a methodical killer if he really needs to be and prefers his agility and his patience over brute force and hastiness. Being a mercenary, Radan knows how to deal with people and he knows how to deal with nature. He is a hunter, tracker, fletcher, and any other skills needed to survive. His skill with a bow is his strength, and though he isn't mediocre with a sword, he would much prefer to deal with his opponents at a distance.
Personality: Radan is a mercenary - and a cocky one at that. He loves himself and will always love himself more than the next man. He will let you know he thinks he is better than you, cleverer than you, and handsomer than you. And being a mercenary, Radan has his own self-interests above others. Why? He's already been betrayed in his earlier years and does not wish to know the pain again. However, despite all this, Radan is not a man without morals. He doesn't engage in senseless killing and arguments. He enjoys a good laugh but knows when to stop, especially if it comes to his coin. There is also a softer side to Radan as well, but one rarely visited.
History: Radan Undyer wasn't raised in a poor family, but neither was he raised in a wealthy one. His father owned his own land on the outskirts of Sotalle and his mother took great care of him and his sister. However, Radan wasn't content to just live the farm life. He often ventured into the city, making friends and learning more than he would if he had stayed on his father's land. Radan in fact was so drawn up in the city life that he neglected his family, though they always loved him and cherished his time with him. Working odd jobs throughout Sotalle, Radan came into the acquaintance of a beautiful lady named Rashelle Kev'Share - a noble. The two fell in love and were inseparable. Though Rashelle's father disapproved of the relationship due to Radan's lower status, he nevertheless relented and allowed Radan to become a member of his court. Radan trained with the other noble boys as if he were one, yet it was clear he wasn't. He continued his relationship with Rashelle and the two soon began talk of marriage. This, however, was something that Rashelle's father was completely against. It angered him yet still Radan and Rashelle went through with the marriage. Because of this, Radan was outcast. In his grief, Radan challenged Rashelle's father. Rashelle was split yet sided with her family and to Radan it was the ultimate betrayal. Radan lost the duel but he also lost something else: his family. The Kev'Share house guard had done away with Radan's family in an effort to teach him a lesson. Radan, consumed even more by his grief, left Sotalle and began to take up work as a mercenary in the surrounding areas of Sotalle and even further, going as far as the city of Johan, Jadorin, and the Luten Swamps. The Murky Isles, where Radan was apart of a sizable mercenary force that was tasked with cleaning up the shores of bandits and pirates to prevent further task, was a particular bad bit of business for Radan. He made friends and lost friends and claimed many a lives. Like his tragedy with the Kev'shares, it is something that Radan prefers not to speak about. His reputation there, and among the bandits, is one that sometimes precedes him.
Through it all, Radan has used his skills that the Kev'Shares had taught him and learned new ones of his own, all the while having the goal of revenge in his mind. Not to kill the Kev'Shares, but to rise above them and subjugate them as they had done to him in the end. Yet Radan's goal takes him many places and has indeed changed him. Though he may come off as someone who cares for nothing more than gold and women, there is something else behind those eyes of his...
Class:Commoner, don't know later on
Appearance:She is about 5'3", around/above average height. She possesses a homemade purplish-reddish tunic that has a skirt-like part covering her legs mostly when she doesn't move, and she wears her mothers shoes, which she added cloth to cover most of her legs from the wind(basically I'm describing my previous character from last time..... because I could not find a good picture). Her pale skin contrast that of her somewhat-dark red hair and blue eyes, to which her parents called her a 'living ghost'.
Origin: She was born in a cart when her parents were resting close to the road to Sotalle.
Equipment: She carries a folding walking staff, to which her Grandmother gave her, and a Iron Shortsword, to which she doesn't know how to use(it would be pretty cool if we could have collapsible swords and such in this world like in FF :unibrow:).
Skills:She is somewhat good with maps, which somehow can not be explained.
Personality: She is very upbeat, a smile on her face is seen everyday and glee in her voice can usually be heard when something sparks her interest. Deep down she is sad and angry at the world, sad that she can't right wrongs, and angry at everyone in the world that has messed with her.
History: She grew up in Sotalle, around the market district. Her family runs a small bookshop around the area, selling books and maps to the people of the empire(Her Grandmother claims she sold a book to a Imperial Warden before, but most people don't believe it at all.). The family kept Helena in the area of the library and the square, paying the guards to make sure she didn't wander to far.
Helena, at a young age, enjoyed history,especially when it had magic as a subject. by the age of 10 she had read all family-owned history books( which was a lot)
at age 17 she was looking around the district at night when a few men cornered her, which led to her being r*ped, to which her family never let her go out at night ever again...
Name: Adryn ‘Ryn’ Denhallow
Adryn is a rather short for her age, reaching a height of 5’2. She has a rather common shade of dark brown hair, which she has cut short to a length that only brushes her shoulders. She has a tan completion due to many hours outside and hazel eyes. Her build is small, but for her size she is rather strong and agile.
Origin: She was born in Romar.
Equipment: Her prized weapon is that of a long broad sword. She holds her sword as one might hold a valuable jewel, and keeps it on her at all times. The sword is light in weight, as well as beautifully but simply crafted; with a soft brown leather hilt that is easy to keep hold of for long periods of time.
She also owns a shield, made out of tough metal and reinforced with oak wood. Like her sword, the shield is light but sturdy and reliable.
As for her armor, Adryn is one who prefers movement over protection. For her shirt and skirt she wears leather for warmth and then over the leather she puts shining chain-mail, for protection. She also sports brown riding boots, which have certainly seen better days as they are worn down to the soles and has dust and dirt that seems to constantly stick to them no matter the amount of washing you put them through. Her arm piece is probably the most elaborate thing she owns. It was a gift made specially for her by a close friend. The metal in the arm piece is a stainless steel, fitted to her exact arm size; and there is a metal dragon that adorns her shoulder. She also uses a rather rusty gauntlet and leather gloves to protect her hands
Skills: She is extremely skilled with sword play, is well enough at tracking, can use other weapons such as a bow to a novice extent, and has some medical skills (enough to keep one alive). However, in the area of hand to hand combat she is, well, less than acceptable.
She is also very good at negotiating with others. She tries to make people see reason, and if they can’t see reason create a fantasy that will win their favors. She is also an adept tactician, being able to spin a strategy that could lead to victory nine times out of ten.
Personality: Adryn could be described as calm and levelheaded on even her worst days. She manages to keep a good composure on the outside, and looks to see reason in hard circumstances. Though she doesn’t posses the patience's of some, she does hold a fair amount of it; and she tries to be as fair to another as she can. Though, underneath all of that patience lies temper that one would not want to provoke; along with a deep craving for adventure and a challenge. She also lacks a humorous side, she likes to laugh and can be a positive person, but many jokes that are told are ones she does not understand.
History: Adryn grew up under two very important military officials. Her mother and father were fierce warriors, who were often away on ‘business’ as they would explain it to a small child, and often left Adryn alone with her grandmother who lived in Romar. The friendly people of Romar adored her, and she was a rather happy child growing in a safe environment. She could have easily lived out the rest of her days in her home town, and had a normal life. However, that wasn’t what an adventurous young girl wanted.
When she turned eighteen she left the nest and journeyed to Sotalle, then enlisted herself in the army. Many instructors in the army where reluctant to teach such a small and young woman such as herself, but there was one who did decide to teach her. A maiden warrior who had undeniable skill and went by the name of Thea trained Adryn as best as she could; teaching her the basics or sword play and using a shield.
By age 20 Adryn was a very well rounded and skilled warrior, to the point where she bested most men or women her age. Soon, she was going on small missions and completing them as easily as one would blink. When she turned 21 however, she was put on a special task force made up of individuals put to the task of killing a deadly public enemy. Many of the members of this task force where close friends of Adryn, as well as her beloved teacher, Thea. The mission didn’t go as planed to say the least, and all of her friends died; she had survived long enough to complete the mission and go home.
However, Adryn was grief driven after seeing many of her close friends die- and resigned from her short career in the army. She has continued to live in Sotalle, making a living off of occasionally capturing criminals in the lower sections of their city or signing up for a freelance mission.
Class: Human Orphan
Lena has the dark sandy hair and wit of her father, and the twinkling eyes and humor of her mother. Her face is heart-shaped and her eyes have a slight slant to them which makes them almost almond shaped. She doesn't show her teeth when she smiles because of a chipped tooth from where she fell against a stone as a toddler. She is tall for her age and has arms and legs like sticks. She walks with a natural kind of grace that she inherited from her mother.
Equipment: Necklace that her father made for her, her bag carrying a picture of her and her father right before he disappeared (the same one from above) and a book that he left to her (his journal about the subject he was researching when he vanished). Anything else she gets comes from the kindness, or the pockets, of strangers.
Skills: hiding (yes it's a skill), agility, climbing, good puzzler solver, has a good memory, can sing and play the flute
Personality: Her father taught her that a smile can warm even the coldest heart, so Lena usually has a smile on her face. Her eyes twinkle with humor and she loves to laugh and play like any normal 8-year-old. But she also knows when to be quiet. If you give her a book you will not hear from her for hours. Her favorite books are tales of times before the rebellion, where everyone was at peace. She also loves adventure stories and dreams of one day going on her own adventure and seeing life outside the walls of Sotalle. She is quick to get angry and upset, but also quick to forgive. Her father taught her that holding hate in your heart was the same as poison : it taints you until it kills you.
She believes there is good in everyone, it is just buried deeper in some people. Even so, the Wardens terrify her.
History: Lena was born in Sotalle. Her mother died when she was a baby and that left her with her father. Atrus was a doting, loving, nutty-professor type who was obsessed with discovering what has been happening to the magic that once powered the Empire. Lena got her love of books and research and puzzles from him. To keep his young daughter busy while he worked he would create puzzles for her to solve, then once she was old enough he involved her in his research by having her get him what he needed when he needed it. Lena never understood her father's work, but she helped him because she truly loved spending as much time as she could with him.
Then tragedy struck. Apparently Atrus found out too much about an underground cult he was researching. One night, their home was broken in to and Atrus was taken while Lena watched from inside a cupboard. No one believed the child's stories of people in the night coming and abducting her father. Such a thing just didn't happen in upper Sotalle. The common belief is that her father went mad from his research, ran off and abandoned her.
Lena still believes her father is alive somewhere and wants to find him more than anything. She lives in the streets now, working and stealing to survive and try to save up the money to hire someone to help her find her father.
Class: rogue hunter
Equipment:bow and arrows in a quiver, daggers, small waterskin, and pack containing hunting gear, and rations
Skills:Any long range weapon, hunting, patience, keen eye and accuracy, great hearing, being silent
Personality: quiet,distances herself, often seen as cold hearted, but is quite the caring of those she knows
History: Born in Rume, parents started traveling to Johan, dropped off Zandra in the middle of the woods at age 5, she met an old hermit who taught her to hunt and survive in the wild. as years moved on the hermit died and Zandra decided to travel to Johan to trade her kills for other necessities. Heard of an appearance of a warden in Sotalle and decided to check out what the commotion was all about
Name – Nev di Zononc
Age – 22
Gender – Male
Class – Bard (will tie into his skills) and Chanter.
Appearance – http://img594.imageshack.us/img594/1362/yfv5.jpg
Others around him have always been drawn to Nev. He is quite handsome, to be sure, but that was not it. No, it was something else. He glowed, glowed with a certain kind of beauty and serenity that was rare in the world. His hair was a light blonde with flecks of a golden hue, like the glow of a waxing sun, cut short in the modern fashion. His cheeks were high and framed his face well, but his eyes, they were his most startling feature. A bright blue with specks of silver or perhaps a bright silver with specs of blue, they stared relentlessly when he was angered, but shone brilliantly at the hint of a smile. He was of a good height for a human, around 6 feet, with a lean but muscular build. He oft wore his deep blue armour as it allowed him a certain sense of safety, usually with a golden shawl wrapped around one shoulder. He also always wore a silver necklace wrapped around his hand, with a simple sapphire pendant that oft times you could see him clutching tightly.
Images of how the cape might look (ignore the rest of the image, just allowing a better idea of one of his more characteristic clothing items) –
Personality – Nev is a shy, good-natured kind of guy. Neither introverted nor extroverted, he does not necessarily seek out the company of others as much as others seek his, but in all cases others are quick to take a shine to his quiet charm. However, when those and that which he loves is troubled, he is a fierce defender, showing a strength that is not readily noticeable to strangers. His love is only matched by his voice, whose reserved eloquence and soothing melodic tones have captured the hearts of many an onlooker. Gifted as a child, Nev has always had a fondness and inclination of song, showing an unnatural gift of harmony.
Origin – City centre of Sotalle
Religion – disciple of the Creator. Not certain if it is okay to outline one of the smaller religions here.
Young Nev sat quietly as he listened to Chanter Jirad. "At the dawn of time, the Creator shown his light on us, and created all that there is and all that there will be." Brother Jirard had delivered this sermon countless times he had memorised it.
"He then sent out his four disciples, the Warrior, the Crone, the Smith and the Chantress to watch over his creation. The Warrior is our father, he who watches over us and champions justice, the Crone is our mother, she who represents fertility and wisdom, the Smith is our brother, he who looks over all creation and grants us fortitude and the Chantress is our sister, she who granted us the gift of the word and controls all within its realm."
“The Gods all peoples worship are manifestations of the Creator, He who takes many forms to many peoples in order to watch over us all.”
"We stand today in the temple of the prophet Najrasi, bride of the Creator. It was she who, in the first era of the Chantry calendar, the Era of Heroes, brought together all of us to battle against the tyrant Emperor, Ustof the Mad. It was she who first established the order of the Chantry and told us of the Chant of Wisdom, to guide us in our lives."
Brother Jirard looked around, noticing that a few of the children had dozed off. It seems that they too had heard this sermon countless times.
When his sermon ended, Brother Jirard kneeled, his congregation following his lead.
"Blessed be the Maker, may his light shine forever upon us, Falhurah."
"Falhurah," Nev repeated.
Nev is a member of the Chantry of the Creator. This order teaches its disciples to be in sync with the nature around them. They do not practice any form of spellcraft, but rather use the power of song to honor the Further, the realm of nature. This energy comes from all natural events from the crashing of a fierce wave to the howl of a strong gust. It follows that those who are strong in this talent are also the most beautiful of singers.
Equipment – Besides his cape, Nev wears a deep blue armour with ornate shoulderpads and subtle designs across the breast. He carries a beautifully carved Tower Shield, called Dragonsinger. It is crafted from the finest metals and has strings strung on the backside to allow for Nev to create music while defending. He carries no other weapons, preferring to knock out rather than kill his opponents.
Skills – Nev is able to resonate his voice and shield harp to create support and defensive abilities. All abilities cover only a short distance as sound does not travel very far in most scenarios. Using the grace of his voice, Nev chants a few words of the Creator to influence the mindsets of those around him. Among his other abilities, ranging from the simplest to the most difficult, would be the songs Stamina's Concerto (to revitalise the energy of his allies), the Wing's Joy (to boost the speed and agility of those not too far away from Nev), the Symphony of the Further (to renew the drive of those close to Nev, when spirits are faltering) and Nev's strongest song, which required immense training with the Chantry to even attempt correctly, the Defender’s Watch (sending out resonating sound waves through the Dragonsinger Shield which are in turn amplified by resonating with the shield's unique metal to block attacks against allies).
History – work in progress
Nev is a citizen of Sotalle, born to a life of wealth and privilege, but disowned by his family. Since then he has taken in with the Chantry and taught the ways of the Song.
Apparently there's a predator on this site preying on players.
Here's the link posted by our lovely admins but, from me, stay safe.