Captain Hailmard cried out as he spotted the man lurking in a thick patch of grass, rushing forwards to attack him as he did so. His cry would serve to alert the others who stood guard around the centre of the keep. The man turned his head and fixed his dark eyes on the captain, a snarl on his face at being discovered. His skin was dark as was his hair and he wore a baggy black cotton burnoose in a style factored by assassins out of Muyyatin. He leapt up with almost inhuman speed, as only one who had taken many endowments of metabolism could have. As the captain met the man with his sword drawn he quickly realised that he would likely be no match for this man, having only a few endowments himself – and only one of metabolism. This man moved with the speed of at least three men and even with the captain’s four endowments of brawn he was sure to lose this battle.
He swung his sword at the small man who brought up a small curved blade with such speed and finesse that he was easily able to block the strike and twisting around quickly he followed the deflection by stabbing the blade deep into Captain Hailmard’s thigh, the blade piercing all of the way through and emerging from the other side. Crying out as his sword was sent flying from his hand and pain shot through him, the captain quickly swung his left hand into the man’s collarbone. With his strength the blow hit hard and the assassin yelped in pain as the bones broke and his shoulder practically caved inwards from the force of the impact, however the man continued to stand showing that he must also have several endowments of stamina to his credit. Snarling in anger the assassin swung his free hand in his own savage punch, catching Hailmard in his chest causing several ribs to snap, obviously the little man had also been branded with several runes of brawn. Though both men were incredibly strong, endowments of brawn increased strength only to the muscles and tendons. They did not invest one’s bones with any superior hardness, so this fight was quickly degenerating into what Hailmard would call ‘a bone-bash’.
The assassin attempted to pull the small dagger free from the captain’s leg, but Hailmard grabbed at his wrists and tried to hold them in place. He knew he could not win this battle alone and hoped to keep the man here long enough so that their cries would draw the attention of other guards. He struggled to hold the assassin’s wrists and for a long moment they wrestled. Hailmard heard deep voiced shouts “That way, I think! Over there!” they came from the left, one street over from the road that the men currently fought in. He would only need to hold the assassin a few moments more – make sure the fellow didn’t stab him or escape. The southerner broke free in desperation, punched him again, high in the chest. More ribs snapped. Hailmard felt little pain. One tends to ignore such distractions when struggling to stay alive. In a sudden flash of speed the assassin ripped the knife free and Hailmard felt a tremendous rush of fear and kicked the assassin’s right ankle. He felt more than heard a leg shatter. The assassin lunged, knife flashing. Hailmard twisted away and shoved the fellow. The blade struck wide of its mark , slashed Hailmard’s ribs, a grazing blow. Now Hailmard grabbed the fellow’s elbow, had the man half-turned around. The assassin stumbled unable to support himself on his broken leg. Hailmard kicked the leg again for good measure, and pushed the fellow back.
Hailmard glanced franticvally into the shadows for sign of some cobblestone that might have come loose from its mortar, or indeed even his own sword. He needed a weapon. He pushed the assassin, thinking the smaller man would go flying. Instead the fellow spun, one hand clutching Hailmard’s surcoat. Hailmard saw the knife blade plunge. He raised an arm to block. The blade veered low and struck deep, slid up through his belly, past shattered ribs. Tremendous paid blossomed in Hailmard’s gut, shot through his shoulders and arms, a pain so wide Hailmard though the whole world would feel it with him. His vision quickly began to fade as the assassin held him closely, the smell of spices and liquor thick in his breath, he had thrust his knife arm up to the wrist into Hailmard’s chest, working the blade towards his heart with a grim smile. Taking a step back and withdrawing his hand in one swift motion the assassin watched as Hailmard took his last breath and crumpled to the ground. Captain Hailmard saw and knew no more.
Forcibles are getting rarer by the day, and we can't simply keep shipping our entire surplus of gold to the lords of Kartish, there are even rumours of their blood mines going dry- causing the prices to soar as lords attempt to purchase what they can before any major shortage.
Rumours already speak of armies gathering on the boarders near Mystarria and Fleeds, war is brewing in the land. People are talking about the Wolf Lord Raj Karton, who has apparently taken so many endowments of glamour and voice that he shines like the sun and has conquered all of the nations of Indhopal, drawing the combined wealth and force of the most wealthy of the southern lords under his banner. They have all either submitted or fallen to his unstoppable forces. They say that Raj Karton has forced so many to give him attributes that he is close to becoming the legendary sum of all men – someone who has become so powerful that he simply cannot be killed. Legend and Lore speaks of another who was said to have accomplished the task, a man who was so powerful that even when his dedicates passed away he retained their skills, becoming an immortal warrior of deadly proportions – however such things are considered to be little more than children’s tales, whilst the threat of Raj Karton grows more and more real each day.
People are scared, they look to their lords to protect them and their families in the dark times to come. There are potential dedicates lining up at the castles throughout Rofehaven, the only problem is the shortage of blood metal which is used to create the forcibles to take endowments, and so only the best of dedicates are being accepted, their attributes being given to the most valued men and women who serve their lords who each seek to protect their own lands. Assassins from the many kingdoms have been sent in an attempt to weaken him by striking out at his dedicates, however so far none have returned, and so have been assumed unsuccessful.
Unknown to most, there is something else, something much worse to fear than the coming war. The earth is in pain and the balance of the powers grows dangerously precarious, a threat that seeks to wipe out humanity itself is looming in the shadows. There are indeed dark times to come – and mankind may not survive.
1. The rules are simple and what you would generally expect. I’m in charge, but I like to give as much creative freedom as possible. Handle it well and all shall be good.
2. No Godmodding – of course.
3. Try to keep to a high-casual level of posting at the minimum. As always quality over quantity. I’m not going to be a spelling/grammar nazi or anything, but if repeated errors become irritating I will ask you to edit and avoid such mistakes. At least a paragraph if not more.
4. This is a heavily story based RP, so try and consider that in what you do. If you’re posting try to make sure its developing something, whether it be the story or your character.
Endowments/Runes of power
One main element of this world are endowments – the ability to take a key attribute from one person and to add it to another. This is done with a small ‘forcible’, an almost small branding iron which is made from blood metal, a rare and precious ore. A ‘facilitator’ then uses this forcible to draw the attributes from one and brands the recipient with a rune of power, creating a magical thread which links ‘Runelord’ and ‘dedicate’ until one of them is killed, either freeing the dedicate and returning their attribute – or stripping the lord of their strengths. These forcibles leave a rune shaped scar (whichever rune of power has been used) these runes leave a white glowing scar, about 1 inch in size, in the shape of the rune granted (they fade to a dull grey if the dedicate is killed). Endowments must be given willingly and cannot be taken by force. Despite this many evil lords, or ‘wolf lords’ as they are called often threaten or blackmail people or their families into giving their endowments. To give an endowment is said to be one of the most unpleasant and generally painful experiences you can go through, and to receive an endowment is almost pure ecstasy. Only one kind of endowment can be taken from one individual, and once this has been taken they can never give another of any kind of endowment (even if the lord is killed and the attribute returns). There are several types of endowment you can take/give.
Brawn – Brawn represents a man’s strength, and through taking endowments of brawn it strengthens your muscles and tendons, allowing people to become quite strong indeed. As with any key endowment care must be taken as sometimes a man can become so weak his heart can no longer beat and he simply dies. A dedicate who has given brawn is as weak as a kitten, and often cannot even move and must be taken care of carefully.
Wit – An endowment of wit allows the recipient to use the brain of their dedicate – and where it may not actually make you anymore intelligent it allows a much stronger and precise memory. Indeed a lord who has taken three endowments of wit will likely remember every waking moment of his life. Someone who has given an endowment of wit is sadly reduced to little more than a dribbling idiot, and care must be taken that he does not forget how to breath or how to blink. Again constant care must be given. If a dedicate who give Wit is killed, then all of the knowledge stored in his brain will be lost – even if another endowment of wit is taken then what was lost must be re-learned.
Grace – An endowment of grace can be said to represent not just ones beauty, but also how gracefully and smoothly one can move. Grace is often used to almost ‘balance’ those who have taken many endowments of brawn or metabolism, allowing them to move much more easily. Those who take many endowments of grace become almost irresistible in their beauty, and it can be extremely difficult to resist them. A dedicate who has given grace will become leathery and often feel quite ugly. Also they are usually only able to eat broth as their muscles often cramp uncomfortably – even in their stomach.
Metabolism – Endowments of metabolism are key to any skilled force warrior, however they can also be seen as a curse. Someone who takes an endowment of metabolism will move at the speed of two men, however they will also age at double the speed. Those who take many endowment of metabolism often become little more than an unstoppable blur, however in doing so they doom themselves to only a fraction of a life – becoming old and decrepit within only a short period of time – sometimes aging and dying within a few years (For example two endowments causes a man of near peak physical age to become decrepit in ten years and die in fifteen). A dedicate who gives metabolism falls into an unbreakable, un-aging slumber, unable to rouse until their lord dies and their attribute returns. It is rumoured to be possible to take so many endowments of metabolism that you can run across the sea or other bodies of water, however to do so would be suicide leading the recipient to age and die within months or even weeks.
Stamina – an endowment of stamina fills the recipient with health and vitality, allowing them to be more resistant as well as helping to keep them alert an full of vigour. Someone who takes many endowments of stamina may survive a wound that would easily kill a common man, and it is rumoured those who take hundreds of endowments of stamina can heal all but the most fatal wounds in a matter of moments. Several endowments of stamina (three or more to be precise) is enough to ensure that one does not have to sleep, allowing them to rest whilst traveling, entering an almost dreamlike state which allows them to rest and recuperate very quickly. A dedicate who gives stamina must be cared for carefully, as they are very prone to sickness and injury and can often die if an outbreak of disease hits.
Voice – This endowment increases the power, attractiveness, and your ability to manipulate your vocal organs. Allowing the recipent for example to shout commands across a battlefield with relative ease. One with many endowments of voice can be dangerous as their voice is so beautiful that others often believe and follow their words without question as if it were their own will. A dedicate who gives their voice becomes a mute, but is otherwise unharmed.
Sight – An endowment of sight improves the recipients eyesight, allowing them to see further and more clearly. One who has taken many is often referred to as a farseer, and with enough endowments of sight some can see well even in relative darkness/ It is rumoured that with over a thousand endowments of sight you can see heat radiating from a man’s body at night, can count the hairs on a fly’s leg at twenty paces. A dedicate who has given sight becomes blind, but is otherwise unharmed.
Hearing – An endowment of hearing increases the ability to pick up and distinguish sounds, and a dedicate who gives this becomes deaf. To many endowments of hearing can be as much of a curse as a boon, as loud noises can become deafening and cause much pain (however this can be balanced with endowments of stamina).
Scent - This endowment increases your ability to perceive and distinguish odour, and for example track a man through the wilderness. A dedicate who gives scent loses the ability to smell. It is not unheard of for a man to take an endowment of scent (or sometimes other endowments) from a dog, such an endowment is 100 times more effective – though this practise would technically make the man what is referred to as a ‘wolf lord’. (Though this term has now come to mean one who takes endowments by force, the original meaning having been slightly lost).
Touch - This endowment increases your body’s sensitivity to the area directly around it. A dedicate who has given their touch becomes numb to the world around them and must often take care not to damage themselves.
There are rumoured to be more runes of power which can give endowments, however these are wildly unknown and are a closely guarded secret of those of Inkarra. Rumoured to exist are the runes of Talent and Will – however little is known about these.
Individuals must be careful that their physical endowments, such as brawn and stamina, are similar in number, or the borrowed brawn may literally tear the body apart (for example). This could happen to individuals who choose poorly in the balance of endowments or who have only certain forcibles available, but the more usual cause is the death of one or more dedicates, resulting in the sudden loss of their attributes. Such individuals are sometimes referred to as "warriors of unfortunate proportion."
Vectors – it is possible to take an endowment from one person, and through them receive all endowments of the same kind that they possess, thus turning the dedicate into a vector for that attribute. For example if you take brawn from a man with four endowments of brawn, it will be akin to receiving five endowments of brawn – and any further endowments of brawn that the man receives will instantly be vectored to the lord – even without him needing to be present. On rare occasion this is used where someone has taken so many endowments there is no longer sufficient room for the runes to be branded.
With the immense power that endowments allow a lord to gather it can make them almost unstoppable by a normal man – or indeed even lesser endowed men. In such cases their enemies will often make a target of their dedicates, seeking to weaken them first by killing those who give their attributes to their lord. Because of this a lords dedicates are often well protected, usually in a dedicates keep of some kind. This type of warfare is somewhat considered vile and evil, however it is sometimes necessary to kill dedicates in order to stop a tyrant who has amassed too much power. It is considered a lesser evil to target their vectors, however this is not always possible as the vectors are always heavily protected.
The known world
United kingdoms in the West. They are ruled from the kingdom of Kartish. The climate tends to be hot and dry. It is bounded by the Ghorat Ocean to the West, the Hest Mountains and Rofehaven to the North East, and Inkarra to the South East
The people of Indhopal are dark of skin and hair. The lords of Indhopal traditionally would go to battle wearing thick, silk armor in shades of white and yellow, with large white turbans adorned with jewels in the center, often rubies. Other warriors of Indhopal tend to wear silk armor in yellowish colors.
Indhopal has many exports to the northern kingdoms of Rofehaven including: pepper, mace, salt, curry, saffron, cinnamon, medicinal herbs, alum, dyes, ivory, silk, sugar, platinum and blood metal.
There are twenty-two nations in total in Indhopal. The known nations are:
Kartish - the farthest southern nation of Indhopal, known for its extremely rich blood metal mines
Old Indhopal - the mightiest nation of the region, after which the region was named.
Group of kingdoms to the south, led by the Storm King. Inkarran literally means Night Children. It is derived from Inz, meaning darkness, and karrath, meaning offspring. It is bounded by the Alcair Mountains and Rofehaven to the North East, Indhopal to the North West, the Caroll Sea to the East, and the Ghorat Ocean to the West. It has had closed borders with Rofehaven for thirty years, and has built the Runewall upon their border.
The people of Inkarra are known for their white hair, exceptionally pale skin and their ability to see in the dark. Inkarran warriors tend to hang their hair over their shoulders in corn braids. They wear blood-red tunics that fall above their knees, and wear perfect steel circles upon their front, back, forehead and upper arms. Tattoos are common, including runes, symbols representing ancestors and homes as well as more common tattoos such as knots.
Their Assassins have been known to put sheepskin boots on the hooves of their horses in order to ride silently.
Kingdoms, once united, in the north. It is bounded by the Ice Sea to the North, the Caroll Sea to the East, the Hest Mountains and Indhopal to the West, and the Alcair Mountains and Inkarra to the South.
The nations of Rofehaven are:
Kingdom of Rofehaven. It is bordered by Eyremoth to the west, the Ice Sea to the north, Eyremoth and Toom to the east, and Seward to the south.
It is one of the kingdoms which occasionally plots to overtake Mystarria. Ruled by Queen Rand.
Mountainous kingdom of Rofehaven. It is bordered by Beldinook to the west, Eyremoth, Internook and Alnick to the east, and Seward to the southeast.
It is said that they love neither wine nor war there. They are known for their beautiful glasswork. Their armor is elaborately decorative.
Kingdom of Rofehaven, bordered by Fleeds and Lysle on the west, the Ice Sea on the north, Ashoven, Seward, Lonnok, and Mystarria on the east, and Muttaya to the south.
It is the second largest, and second richest nation in Rofehaven, next to Mystarria, with its population near twelve millions people. They produce armour and grain, and many claim that they have the finest steel and cavalry in the world. They often host the Knights Equitable in their abundant green fields.
They're military uniform is made up of a breastplate, silver cap with square top, and shields emblazoned with a white swan on a dun field.
It is ruled by King Lowicker and his daughter, Princess Rialla Val Lowicker.
Cold Kingdom in the north of Rofehaven. It is split into two halves, divided by Alnick. The western region borders Ashoven to the southwest, Seward and Alnick to the southeast and Internook and the Ice Sea to the north.
They are considered to have the finest stone masons.
Kingdom of Rofehaven. It is known for its great horse breeding.
Ruled by Queen Herin the Red.
Nation in the North West of Rofehaven. It is bordered by the Ice Sea to the North, South Crowthen to the East, Fleeds to the South and Orwynne to the West. A land known for its hardy people and strong fortresses. It is ruled by King Sylvarresta.
It has the finest armor and weapon smiths in the north. It's rich in cattle, sheep, and timber – a close ally of Mystarria.
A far away, small northern kingdom. Famed for their longboats and deadly axe men. A relatively poor kingdom, which only trade seems to be mercenaries and raiders.
Kingdom of Rofehaven run mostly by merchant Princes. It is bordered by South Crowthen to the west, Fleeds to the south, Beldinook to the east, and the Ice Sea to the north, held back by rocky shores.
The wealthy tend to dress in flowing, elegant styles. Their troops carry green banners into battle, and wear purple robes with their armour. The merchant princes are often poorly respected by kings of note.
Lysle is unlike other nations in Rofehavan in that it has no monarchy. You might say that in Lysle, profit is king. The country is run by cutthroat merchants, several hundred of them, each of them ruling over and representing their own merchant guilds. Though they are called the "merchant princes," the fact as many of the guild leaders are women as men.
Lysle as a nation almost never wages an official war, since it is seen as unprofitable to do so. However, the guilds do manage to reap tremendous profits from other people's wars by supplying arms, armaments, and so on. Various guilds also have hired mercenary armies or assassins to wipe out royals in other nations that give them trouble or within their own nation. Guild wars are common the dyers fighting the weavers and so forth.
And, in Lysle perhaps more than any other nation in Rofehavan, appearance is everything, and so the folk of Lysle are known for their courtly appearance and namby-pamby ways.
However, don't let appearances fool you. Lysle as a kingdom is a rough-and-tumble place where a man soon learns to watch his own back, and anyone who attains the rank of Guildmaster is likely to be very dangerous in a duel.
Kingdom of Rofehaven. It is bordered by Mystarria to the south, Beldinook to the west, Seward to the north, and Toom to the east.
It is filled with swamps to south, and current home of the Frowth Giants.
Kingdom in the South, and once the capitol, of Rofehaven. It is ruled by Mandelus Draken Orden. Inkarrans are banned from the nation. It is the richest and most powerful of the nations in Rofehaven, and has many of the strongest castles and keeps throughout the land.
Kingdom in the North of Rofehaven. It was originally ruled by the air wizard Sendavian, whose symbol was the crow. Crowthen was split between his two sons in its distant past.
Nation in the North West of Rofehaven. Somewhere in the Isles north of the nation lies the monastery of The Days.
Kingdom in the North of Rofehaven. It was originally ruled by the air wizard Sendavian, whose symbol was the crow. Crowthen was split between his two sons in its distant past. It is a green and hilly kingdom, ruled by King Anders. The trees would turn beautiful colours in the fall, and by many it is regarded as a beautiful land.
These areas lie as borders or beyond the control of men.
These Mountains mark the border between Rofehaven and Inkarra. The border was closed sixty years ago and a great Runewall was built upon them by King Zandaros. The Runewall was made of great, stone wheels thirty or forty feet tall. In each tablet a rune had been carved. It is said the Runewall hold an evil power, on all who look on it.
Mouth Of The World
Opening to an immense reaver warren. Often used as an entrance for crusades into the underworld. It serves as a border between Rofehaven, Inkarra, and Indhopal.
The opening is more than a hundred feet wide. Reavers had reinforced the walls with mucilage, and erected thirty foot pillars which appeared in pairs, every dozen yards.
The Ice Sea
The Ice Sea does tend to break up in the summer so that shipping lanes open, but it is a dubious thing. There have been years when the shipping lanes never close, and at one point, there were three ferocious winters that came back to back and the ice never melted. That was when the Froth giants came down from the north into Rofehavan.
The true world that this plane is only a mere shadow of. It is home of the Bright Ones and Darkling Glories.
Referring to the tunnels and warrens beneath the surface of the earth. It is home to many creatures, such as reavers and blind-crabs. It also house varying plant life such as cave kelp that would hang form ceilings, many types of fungus and worm grass, so called because of its soft spicules which were the width and length or earthworms.
Its terrain can be as varied as the above surface, with area’s ranging from hot and moist, to covered in age, to rich with foliage, to barren and rocky, to underground rivers, to large and jagged caverns, and sulphuric pools.
Places within the Underworld:
Also know as the Dark Fortress. It is an ancient stronghold within the underworld. It has multiple levels and many rooms, for the housing of soldiers and captains. Erden Geboren himself had run his campaign from there. It is now abandoned and lost.
Factions of note
Organization of people who serve the mysterious Time Lords. Often referred to a strange religion it is the days duty to record history as it happens, claiming to be impartial as to the outcome of any event. Each member of the Days gives their wit to another member, and then receives wit back form that same member, and creating two individuals whose minds are linked. One will follow an individual (generally a Runelord) around from birth, whom the Time Lords think will affect history. The other stays in a secure location somewhere in the isles North of Orwynne and records the events as they unfold in the chronicles of their life.
The act of sharing a wit usually drives people mad. Only the Days, whose selfless dedication overpowers their own identity, have mastered the process.
Days follow most leaders of import and are supposed to be neutral in the affairs of men. They never give advice or reveal the information they gather until after their subjects death. They would simply stand by and watch a child drown, rather than interfering and altering their history – even if it were to save their life. Some leaders suspect that they are not truly neutral, but those who reject their Days, or do them harm, soon have all their secrets known to the world.
When two Days meet they will sometimes speak in code.
Group of warriors who serve no lord, but fight for what they deem is right. They are often marked by their armour, pieced together from many lands, often from fallen comrades. Knights sometimes voluntarily leave their lords service to join the Knights Equitable – these man make it their duty to defeat tyrants and other evil beings that may plague the land.
Wizards and powers
The Magic system of the Runelords is based primarily on the four elements, known as powers. The powers not only make up the substance of the world, they seem to vie for power, working through individuals, much like distant gods.
You can be Wizardborn, which means from birth you’ve always felt the draw of one of the four powers. But the main thing is serving whichever power you want to be a wizard for - wizardborn or not.
You serve the power and the power will serve you. So for example a budding fire wizard will set things on fire, offer up consumable materials as a way to please the power of fire, and in return if fire takes notice it may begin to lend that person powers. The more you serve and listen to the power the more it grants you in return – if that makes sense.
The known powers are:
Earth – Wizards of the earth are often paired with a certain type of creature or plant, and can have a vast array of abilities. Earth wizards are best at drawing runes of protection, healing, strengthening or breaking. They serve the earth as best they can and in return the earth lends them its powers. Some powers – earth sight, the ability to look into men or beasts and know their feelings and if they serve the powers of good or evil. Can also extend to the land or buildings, seeing structural weak points that can be exploited or protected. Summoning – to think intensely about a certain type of animal (the less intelligent the easier) and call them to their aid. Herbology – the ability to find the best produce of the land, be it food or beneficial herbs. The effect of such herbs are magnified sometimes tenfold when in the hands of a skilled earth wizard. Seer stones – the ability to see through the stones and rocks of the land. Often helpful for monitoring events from afar, though it can be very difficult to scry the correct location and can take up to hours to do so.
Fire – Fire wizards are often called Flameweavers, they are granted powerful boons by their master, however fire only consumes and one who gives himself totally to the flames will be consumed from within slowly, becoming like the element they serve, destructive and mindless. They have the kind of abilities you would expect, being able to control and manipulate flames. They are said to have the ability to hear any words spoken by an open flame, or if powerful enough even in the daylight. They can also draw heat and energy from flames, using it to replenish themselves – and again with enough power they can draw heat from the sun itself. When a flameweaver is killed the elemental within them is released, and depending on the wizards power a huge inferno will sprout from their corpse, immolating and charring everything it touches. For a few moments the wizard may retain some control, however this fades quickly and the elemental will seek to destroy and consume anything within its vision before it eventually burns out.
Water – Water wizards are similar to those of earth in their powers, however they are much less common as powerful water wizards are drawn to the sea – developing gills and disappearing from the human world in favour of the ocean. They have many similar powers and again excel in protective and healing runes, however the water can also be a powerful and destructive force – generally more so than the earth. Powerful water wizards elementals can be considered akin to a destructive tidal force, and wash away everything around them when released from their bodies.
Air – Wizards of the air are considered to be quite unstable and often become slightly insane – or ‘windswept’. When they give themselves entirely to the wind they often gain the ability of flight, however they become like free spirits, going wherever the wind takes them. To kill an air wizard and release the elemental within is to call a maelstrom forth – the elemental causing destruction and death where possible. Their abilities are again what you would expect, they also have the ability to send messages on the wind, allowing their words to be carried far and heard by those they seek.
The world of The Runelords is filled with lots of new, and terrifying creatures – as well as animals you’d recognise from our world.
Large flying lizards, which are sometimes domesticated and used as messengers (though are only able to carry young children). They are used by kings and lords as messengers, though recently they have fallen out of common use due to the scarcity of the Graaks. There is a desert variety in Indhopal that is known to knock riders from their horses, and wait for them to weaken, lost in the desert before feeding upon them.
A small rat-like race. They stand around a foot tall. Females have six nipples that they use to feed their young pups. They live mostly in darkness, tunnelling into human buildings. They are semi-intelligent: they care for their young, wear small bits of clothing, use rough tools, and even speak in a basic Ferrin language.
"Ferrin are small egg-laying mammals about the size of an opossum. Fierce hunters, they were brought to the lands of Rofehavan to control rat populations in castles. The Ferrin have a crude intelligence and can use some tools, such as primitive spears and pry bars. They are notorious scavengers, stealing food, buttons, coins, and cloth—anything that they think is pretty or valuable. By the time that people discovered that Ferrin were a greater nuisance than the rats they hunt, the ferrin population had spread out of control."
Known simply as the flame lizard of Djeban though most of Indhopal, these large reptiles have gained many names. In Inkarra they are used like watch dogs and are known as draktferions, translated as watch fires. In Mystarria they are called drakens while most of north Rofehaven know the creatures as dragons.
The lizards possess a frill of red at their throat, which expands to make the lizards look larger and more intimidating. Red patches at the edges of the jaw appear to most as spots of blood. At night the frill glows in brief flashes giving the appearance of fire. In the spring, males do this to boast to females, making it appear that Djeban is on fire.
The Frowth first travelled to Rofehaven about one hundred and twenty years ago. A tribe of around four hundred crossed the Ice Sea while it was frozen. They were wounded, and clearly fleeing something but were unable to master any human language to explain their position. They communicate to humans mostly through rough gestures. Over time, most Frowth migrated into Indhopal where lords would hire them as mercenaries and labourers.
Their bodies are covered in greasy yellow hair and fur. They have silver eyes. They are known to stand around twenty-feet tall and eight feet wide. They have snouts longer than a horse and their teeth are very sharp. Their pelt is relatively thick. They can live to be quite old. They do not have a good sense of smell.
In times of war they wear ring mail covered in hide, and wield large oak poles banded with rings of iron as weapons.
Large, slim, white wolves with icy eyes. They hunt in packs. They have deep and resonant howls. They tend to live in the Alcair Mountains and are known to be very dangerous.
Those who linger in the world after death are known as wights. They are commonly men but many wights from other races exist, including the Toth. They appear as they did in life, only instead of being solid they appear to be made of light in shades of grey, dull blues and white. Other colours can occasionally be seen from the wights past form, such as a Toth's crimson eyes. They can be heard shrieking and wailing when not purposefully using stealth.
Wights are known to be drawn by sound and movement. They often are found hiding in shadows.
Their touch can freeze the bodies of mortals, often leading in a slow and painful death.
Water and cold iron are know to be able to turn a wight, but those of great power can resist such weapons.
Powerful wizards can banish wights. A banished wight, shatters in a blinding flash, sending a wave of frost out as much as fifty feet in all directions.
Large, insect-like carnivores that primarily live beneath the earth. Reavers have multiple rows of green, crystalline teeth that are used for weapons, adornment and sometimes currency. They stand on four legs each with four toes. They have two extending arms that end in grasping fore-claws, giving the reavers the ability to make and wield tools. They have no eyes, but sense the world around them with philia on the plate of their skull and around their jaw line. Their heads are spade-shaped, which they use to dig under ground for protection and to set ambushes. The head has three interlocking plates, joined by cartilage. It can pop these plates in and out to squeeze through tight areas. For communication, they secrete scents that can linger in an area for an extended amount of time. They can grow exceptionally large and heavy. Their leathery skin often grows thick and hard to protect them from damage. When a reaver dies another reaver will eat its brain, gaining its memories and certain sense of immortality. Due to their size and bearing, reavers are excellent climbers. Reavers cannot swim, but are known to walk on the bottom of a lake or pond for short distances.
Type of reaver, bred and trained for battle. They carry wield large blades, or knight gigs (Large hooked metal poles). They are often endowed, for optimized fighting ability. Very deadly.
Type of reaver, bred and trained for the use of magic. They wield large stone staves and use runes and/or special scents to alter their targets. They can cast devastating spells upon men – and often are in positions of power amongst the revers.
Luckily reavers have not surfaced for hundreds of years (aside from the odd one or two here and there), not since they were defeated at the Hands of Erden Geboren and Daylan Hammer (two historic figures who saved the human race from utter annihilation). Some fear that the reavers have simply been waiting and rebuilding their numbers and power – until they will once again spew forth from their Underworld home to once more attempt to wipe out humanity.
Nomen are black-coated shaggy creatures that lumber on all fours in preference to an upright gait. They are crafty nocturnal hunters who prefer small packs to seeking prey alone. Their hands are clawed, and their eyes are red and seemingly glow in the dark. Nomen will drop on unwary travellers from a forest canopy rather than attempt a direct confrontation. They use basic weapons, favouring the spear most of all. Nomen can be found in the Dunwood and are said to inhabit the Hest Mountains beyond Inkarra in great numbers. In the distant past, they came north and invaded, but were slaughtered and their numbers greatly reduced.
Toth (believed to be extinct)
The Toth are an extinct race of sorcerers that were thought to be in some way related to the Reavers, though they were more vaguely humanoid and significantly smaller. The Toth were an expansionistic race and were slain by King Fallion of Mystarria when he led the massed armies of humanity across the Caroll Sea to the Toth homeland. The only surviving Toth take the form of wights, deadly ghost-like spirits which dwell in dangerous, wild places and bring icy death with their touch. Generally only Toth sorcerers remain as wights, their spirits presumably having been stronger than their non-magical fellows.
Duskin (definitely extinct)
Very little is known about the Duskin, though it is known they were great Earth-wizards and craftsmen. The Duskin were smaller than humans but bore a general resemblance to human shape, having the same number of limbs and being bipeds. Duskin dwelt beneath the surface of the earth, but in caverns much closer to the surface then their ancient rivals, the Reavers. The ruins that they have left behind are highly valued for the items that can be found – the craftsmanship better than any human hand could create.
I'd be looking for one or two GMs to make sure everything continues to run smoothly. If you are at all interested in this let me know.
What role will you take in the coming dark times? Hero or villain? Lord or commoner? Knight or wizard? The choices are endless and are yours to make. If you are unsure about what you’d want to be then either post here or send me a PM and we can figure out what role would suit you best.
The initial part of the story here will deal with the rumours about the Wolf Lord Raj Karton and his impending attack upon Rofehaven – if you hadn’t guessed. Depending on who you are and what role you take I may message you with some secret ploy or plot that the other players aren’t aware of – to keep things interesting. The main idea will be to form a group/alliance of powerful runelords who are able to combat this threat and protect the lands of Rofehaven. Though this appears to be the only threat on the horizon, it most definitely is not – and the story should remain fast-paced whilst it evolves around your characters and their actions.
Possible roles to fill:
King/Queen of any of the nations of Rofehaven (excluding Mystarria or Heredon). If you are interested in playing a Ruler from Indhopal then message me/post here and we shall discuss this.
Lord/Baron/ect of any Nation of Rofehaven.
Knight/soldier of Mystarria or Heredon.
Water wizard/wizardess (again if you are interested in possibly playing a Fire/Air Wizard let me know and we can discuss this).
Or any other roles generally should be fine – if you are unsure just ask! The only restrictions at the moment are that the character must be (generally speaking) on the ‘good’ side, which is Rofehaven. However exceptions will be made if needed.
Appearance (picture or text):
Endowments (if any):
Powers (if any):
So far I have finished only the one character, but I am working on another (The king of Mystarria) and will likely have quite a few to add in the future depending on what you guys bring to the table.
The Wizardess Averon
Unknown (Appears to be around 25)
Averon on first glance appears to be little more than a woman who is at the prime of her life, her face full of life, intelligence and beauty. She looks to be no older than her mid-twenties, despite the fact that she has lived far longer than this. Her hair is a deep auburn colour and seems to shimmer a deep chestnut red in full light, when combined with her clear tanned skin which seems to have a slight green tint to it at times – you can see the earth powers at work deep within her. Her body is slim and athletic, made so by the constant travel and training that she enjoys frequently. She wears simple travellers clothing, covered by a large green robe which is actually covered in tiny shoots and leaves, the very fabric itself becoming heavily interwoven with green plant life. Her eyes are a piercing green which seem to be a more vibrant shade than even the most lush grasslands, and they seem to bore into the very souls of those she gazes at.
Averan is kind and has a respect for all life, showing compassion to those who she can, though it is rumoured that she often cares more for the plants and trees of the forest than she does for her fellow man – whilst in truth she just finds the goings on of animals and plants to be much more simple and fulfilling than trying to dabble in the affairs of men. She often has a gleam in her eye which would indicate she knows much more than she lets on, and she seems to be full of mystery and intrigue. She is very slow to anger, though when she is repeatedly aggravated or someone shows a blatant disrespect and cruelty to a living creature then her patience runs thin and she will deal out punishment as she sees fit.
Averan lives in service to the earth, and this shows heavily in the way she lives and breathes.
Endowments (if any):
Powers (if any):
Earth Wizard – she serves the powers of the earth, and they in return serve her.
Earth sight, Averan has the power of earth sight. The ability to gaze at something and see it through the earth’s eyes. The earth knows what is wholesome and what is rotten, and as such she can see into the true nature of man and beast alike. She can also use this ability on structures both natural and man-made to learn of their strong and weak points.
Rune-lore, Averan has long studied the many runes of the world and has attempted to learn and master as many as possible. She is very adapt with runes of healing and protection, as well as strengthening. She also has studied the runes of the forcibles in her youth, and as such also understands and can practise the art of a facilitator and take endowments from one and gift them to another – not that she has used this talent in many many years.
Herbology – Averan is familiar with the many hundreds of different types of plants and herbs that have both beneficial and damaging properties, and the methods to best harvest and store such plants. In the hands of an experienced earth warden such as Averan the effects are magnified up to tenfold – which can be quite useful in many cases.
Averan has served the earth as long as she can remember, and has lived for many many years, the earth providing for her an extremely long life. She has travelled far and wide, learning and healing wherever she has gone, though she has also witnessed much evil. Little is known about the specifics of her past to any who lives, and she shares little information even with those who she would consider friend.
Recently in the rustling of leaves and the stirring of the ground Averan has heard the earth whispering to her, whispering that dark times for mankind are coming and will be at hand sooner than they should be. The earth whispered to her about the other powers, especially air and fire, which seek only to destroy and consume. Some great evil is at work and manipulating and warping these powers to work against mankind, causing the earth to be in pain. The exact cause of this is unknown, even to her – but she knows that she must now begin her work to help protect and save the seeds of humanity, however she can.
Fairskar may only be 19, however with his endowments of metabolism he appears much closer to 30. His shaggy dark hair is now spattered with flecks of grey and white, a sign that age is beginning to catch up with him. His face is rough and unshaven, showing many of the same grey colours as his hair giving him the appearance of a grizzled veteran despite his actual youth. Over his tunic he wears a tight leather chest piece which shows several marks of battle, a slash here or there which would have narrowly missed penetrating the lithe assassin. His body is very slim and athletic, favouring speed and stealth over brute strength - he has trained restlessly which has served to remove any excess of fat from his frame. His face though rugged is quite handsome, having a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes which have drawn the eye of more than of few ladies, no doubt as a result of his endowments of grace. All in all Fairskar looks somewhat like a common foot soldier or mercenary – lacking any heavy armour which would make him stand out as a force soldier of any kind. A single blade rests at his side, a thin long sword which is designed to pierce heavy armour at its weak points, whilst remaining strong enough to deflect the majority of blows directed towards the assassin. It may appear to be his only weapon, however Fairskar has many small blades and poisoned needles hidden about his person, ready to be withdrawn at a moment’s notice should the need arise.
Fairskair is what some refer to as a natural born killer. The ease that this man feels ending the lives of others boarders on the psychopathic – he can kill without batting an eyelid at the thought, whilst he remains polite and friendly to those around him, shrouding himself in deceit and treachery as he does so. Truth be told there is not a single thing about the man that would be considered normal or decent, however he long ago learnt that others place their trust and friendship in those that value these traits, and so he set about learning how to always appear to be the friendliest face or the most polite gentleman in any gathering. He is sadistic and cruel under his mask of glamour, though is not devoid of any emotions. He regularly considers morality and fairness, and on occasion will display a kind act or something selfless, however his own motives are always the driving factor in such occasions rather than any desire to actually do good.
Endowments (if any):
1 of Brawn, 1 of Stamina, 3 of Grace, 4 of Metabolism
2 of Sight, 5 of Scent, 1 of Touch & 2 of Hearing.
Powers (if any):
None – though Fairskar has a natural affiliation with the power of Wind, though despite this he has taken no action to embrace the power or serve it in anyway, and would reject any such bonding should the power seek him out. As such he remains without a major connection to any of the powers – and powerless in the eyes of any wizard.
Fairskar was born in Mystarria, his mother being a dedicate who had given her sight into the kings services after her husband had given his own metabolism. He was born in the Blue Tower – a few miles east of the Courts of Tide in the Caroll Sea. It was a staggeringly mighty and old building which had served to house the dedicates of Mystarria over the ages, protected by a small fleet of warships should anyone be fool enough to attack, being inaccessible via any land route. He grew up there, helping to care for his father and the other dedicates with his mother, learning all about the effects of giving an attribute to another and becoming weak yourself. He was not happy to simply serve others, even at a young age and rejected the idea of ever becoming a dedicate himself as he saw the pain and suffering of his mother and the others in the keep. At 14 he was obsessed with leaving the tower, and almost as if the opportunity were sent to him by some divine being, one night he was wandering the walls of the tower when he stumbled upon wet footprints leading into the interior. All too aware of the constant threat of assassins he quickly followed the footsteps inside a found a man quietly making his way into the keep, a curved dagger clutched in his hand as he moved through the slumbering dedicates. Doing the only thing he could think of young Fairskar clutched the only weapon he had tightly in his own hand, a small serrated knife used to slice meat from bones, he stumbled forwards as if he were just awakening from a slumber in a nearby cot, forcing his face into a dull drooling stare as if he were a fool who had given Wit. The assassin instantly noticed him and turning to face the boy the man smiled grimly seeing that he was only a fool and would not understand that he was here to kill the dedicates that slumbered around. Fairskair forced a smile as if he were pleased to see that he was not the only one awake, and began to shuffle towards the assassin still drooling slightly as he did so making a slight warbling noise as if to ask if it was time for food.
“Shhh…” the assassin said softly smiling at the young boy, his only concern was that he would make a noise and awaken someone who could raise the alarm. He moved over to the boy and began to guide him quickly back to the empty cot “It is time to sleep still…” he cooed at the boy hoping that he would clamber back into the cot so he could slit his throat before leaving him hidden under the covers.
Fairskar grinned dumbly still and moved as if he were about to clamber back into the cot, when suddenly and without any warning he glanced behind the assassin and dropped his smile. Taking the bait the assassin whirled around expecting that the fool had seen someone or something, and at that moment Fairskar jammed the knife with all of his strength down into the man’s neck twice in rapid succession. The gaping wound that opened in the man’s neck gushed blood as the assassin attempted to twist around even as he began to die, his endowments of stamina not being able to help with such a fatal wound. His eyes met with Fairskar’s and the boy grinned as the assassin had, dropping his guise of the fool and letting the man know that in his last moments he was bested by just a boy pretending to be a fool. The assassin grasped at his tunic as he collapsed and Fairskar responded by pushing the man away and backwards with his foot, causing the man to sprawl onto the floor as the light from his eyes faded. He would always remember the first moment he killed a man and proved his worth – from that point onwards Fairskar associated the rush of killing a man with great success.
The guards in the tower were astonished to learn that he had killed this assassin, especially after a quick examination of his corpse showed that he had over thirty separate endowments and likely would have killed any man in the tower with relative ease. Despite his mother’s wishes Fairskar expressed a desire to leave the tower and to travel to the Courts of Tides, and with such a success at his back none of the guards dared deny the boy such a boon.
When he arrived, the son of two dedicates to the kingdom who had single headedly killed a dangerous assassin and possibly saved the lives of hundreds through his actions, the king was quite taken with him. The king had offered to reward him with the sum of five forcibles for his act – a very generous reward even for the wealthiest nation in Rofehaven and had offered the boy to join his service in whatever role he would desire. King Orden was surprised to learn that the boy openly requested to become an assassin himself, and went as far as to ask for more endowments when his training was completed.
Several years later at the age of 18 he was one of the most skilled assassins Mystarria had in their employ, he had excelled within his training and had studied in his spare time at the House of Understanding in the room of faces. He had taken his first five endowments within nights of being granted them, and had chosen one of each brawn, stamina, grace, metabolism and sight. Now at the completion of his training his master had recommended that he received more endowments as he would serve the country well indeed with them. He was granted an additional ten endowments, and took these at the recommendation of his master evening out his lesser senses so he could easily track and spot a man over great distances. With fifteen endowments to his credit Fairskar become quite powerful and could easily be counted amongst the most dangerous men around (The Kings knights and honour guards aside), though at this stage he still only had one endowment of metabolism and two of grace. After his first few successful missions he wanted more, and so agreed to take more endowments of metabolism – despite the fact that with each endowment he took his life would be cut dramatically. He received his other three endowments of metabolism from just one man – an old knight who had found to be cheating the kingdom out of wealth and prestige through his unlawful dealings with bandits and brigands – Sir Horth, who himself had two endowments of metabolism to his credit. The curious thing about this was that one of Sir Horth’s endowments was given by Fairskar’s father, meaning that he was now in receipt of his own father’s metabolism, vectored through Sir Horth as punishment for the Knights misgivings.
With four endowments of metabolism to his credit Fairskar become a deadly warrior indeed, what he lacked in brawn or stamina he made up for with his speed and grace (having also taken another endowment of grace, bringing his total number of endowments to nineteen).
Over the next year he completed many missions flawlessly, however he aged at such a rapid pace that he already seemed to be reaching the age of 30, and is aware that in less than five years he will appear closer to 50, and in ten years will likely be dead.
He was called into the kings chambers one evening, an was assigned to oversee a Coalition of assassins against Raj Karton – a daring and last push to attempt to stop the Wolf Lord from invading Rofehaven. With dozens of other assassins being sent from each of the kingdoms it would be his responsibility to see to it that as many as possible of Raj Karton’s dedicates are slain by directing them at several key locations where they may be held, and leading the assassins himself.
King Mandelus Draken Orden.
King Orden is a regal and strong man, he has dark short hair which curls slightly towards the end. With his several endowments of glamour he looks to be extremely handsome, despite the fact he looks closer to his mid-forties than his actual age. He is rarely seen without his cape of green samite, the colour representing house Ordern, the rest of his apparel always being regal and showing the wealth of Mystarria. His armour is kingly and the craftsmanship flawless, serving to protect him very well in battle.
King Ordern considers himself a fair and just ruler, and does everything he can to protect and serve his people. He has a military mind, having studied in the room of arms and tactics in the House of Understanding, though despite this he still values the path of peace above all others. His ancestors have served the people of Mystarria for countless generations, and he knows that the people all look to him in these uncertain times.
Endowments (if any):
10 of Brawn
8 of Wit
5 of Grace
1 of Metabolism
11 of Stamina
7 of Voice
3 of Sight
3 of Hearing
1 of Touch
Powers (if any):
King Orden has lived much as any other king would have, but tries to be better than most. In his youth the morals which he lives his life by today were slightly less defined, and he was not opposed to offering wealth to a man in exchange for an endowment. Now he would not consider such a thing, as the true motives of such a man are never clear, and you may be cursing him as much as helping him – he only takes endowments from those who gift them freely.
His wife and most of his children have regrettably been taken from him by several assassins over the years, and though he cannot prove it he knows they originated from Raj Karon. In return he has sent his own assassins, but very few have ever returned from the lands of Indhopal.
He has heard and seen the signs of the approaching war, and has been preparing his nation as best he can with what little time they have. Unfortunately the only known source of remaining blood metal is in Indhopal itself, and as such the supply has dwindled to near nothing as the Wolf Lord hordes whatever he can. With only a relatively small remaining stockpile King Orden hopes to use the last of the kingdoms forcibles to bolster their armies further and strike one last time at Raj Karton before he is upon them.
The rumours of his vast power and unthinkable level of endowments has driven the fair King to take the only option available, he has called for the best assassin’s from each land in Rofehaven to gather, and intends to send them to Indhopal to kill the Wolf Lords dedicates. It is not a honourable way to do war, but King Orden fears that there is little other choice.
The Slut of Hellbreach
Allivania von Ashfall
Slut of Hellbreach,
Duchess of Ashfall
The ability that characterizes one as a Flameweaver, offering manipulation of fire without so much of a glance so long as the user is in the immediate vicinity and capable of conscious thought. Because it is a natural gift and not something gained through knowledge or training, this ability is something of a second nature for Allivania that turns to ash anything that would threaten her. The extent and limitations of her ability to affect flames hasn't been fully tested yet, the fire in her heart claims there is no limit to her power, but she hasn't been foolish enough to give in to its whispers yet.
Heart of Fire
The fire living in the heart of all Flameweavers that provides them immunity to fire and the ability to sense other Flameweavers across great distances. Allivania has yet to reach the pinnacle of this ability, purely due to sheer disinterest. Due to how little she's tapped into this power, she cannot quite communicate through fire, although she is able to sense open flames from extraordinary distances and confer basic emotions through the more sizable of infernos. It should be noted that although she is immune to the negative effects of fire, something unique to her is the pleasurable sensation of fire licking her exposed skin, driving her to call the source of her power "perverted".
The enthralling power of persuasion that speaks to the raw fire, in people's hearts. By setting people's passions alight, the user of the Flame's Tongue can influence, provoke or seduce unwise individuals with ease. This power also allows one to communicate with other Flameweavers without those around them noticing, using the secret language of fire to trade unspoken information and hold councils in plain sight, all without drawing the attention of those around them. While it is normally used solely on other humans, it is entirely possible to inflame the passions of any creature possessing them, including all varieties of wild animals or mystical beasts.
A power possessed only by those who are wizardborn of fire, the Fire's Passion is something like a personality trait that's ascended to become a magical phenomenon, embodying the wielders powerful passions in ethereal heat. Those who have this trait grow warm to the touch, and when their passions are alight, their body temperature seems to increase to intense levels and their mental state begins to be affected. The heat from their body during these times doesn't burn like the heat from an open flame, instead warming and providing pleasurable jolts of warmth wherever it contacts. While the Fire's Passion seems to affect the strength of one's Fire Manipulation, this is not actually true, it just feels that way because it further opens their mind to the fire's voice inside of them.
Allivania's beauty is matched by few in all the lands, even before taking so many endowments of grace she was renowned as a truly wonderful prize to behold. She stands slightly taller than most women, with a prodigious bust and a slender, supple frame. Her flowing golden hair, worn down to her waist, compliments her fair skin nicely while also strongly contrasting with her unusual crimson hued eyes. She is rarely seen without an attractive or sultry smile on her face, a trend followed closely by her attire.
Regardless of what this beauty wears, she always betrays a certain sense of elegance that can't be matched by mere commoners. Her promiscuity is widely known, especially among her subjects, a fact that has earned her the title of "Slut." However, she is also greatly respected for her power, and her natural charm makes it difficult for all but the holiest of people to dislike her. Despite its negative intentions, she doesn't particularly dislike the offensive title she has gained, although it would be unwise to refer to her as such unless you were of similar or greater status. It is an unspoken fact that she is feared among her subjects, as it is rumoured that the reason none stand to defy her is that she turned all of the rebels to ash before they could speak. She is said to see into the hearts of men and women alike, the magic in her words are often cited to be irresistible even to women.
Allivania believes wholeheartedly in the power of passion and love, her own desires are more important to her than everything else, even honour.
She is fond of fire and warmth in general, often seeking comfort in the presence of bonfires or candles. She rarely sleeps far beyond the warmth of a fire's embrace, even when wrapped in a lover's caress. She loves to drink and lose herself to passionate sexual activities, although she is surprisingly selective about who she engages with. When it comes down to it, she greatly enjoys punishing people who have wronged her in some way, but not as much as she enjoys being adored, so she tends to stray away from cruelty so as to avoid the people's enmity.
Overly serious or uptight people annoy her greatly, as do people who are cold or seemingly lacking major emotions. She hates things that limit her freedom, especially if it's something unpleasantly boring. She doesn't like being disrespected, and those who cross her often find her less than lenient regarding punishment.
Allivania is a master of both persuasion and seduction, the ways of speech seem to come natural to her, a trait enhanced far further by her various endowments (physical and magical.) She is clever and sly, both a master strategist and peerless actress able to weave an impenetrable web of deceit that protects her from harm almost as tightly as her flames. She possesses a great deal of natural charisma that allows her to inspire others and bring enemies over to her side where necessary.
Name: Queen Ambrosine
Personality: Ambrosine is power hungry and sociopathic. She cares for no one but herself and furthering her interests. In her youth she was much more calm and patience, but as she has aged she has become more unhinged and temperamental. Everything she does and everyone around her must serve a purpose to further her interests. She is paranoid and often spends hours of the night in front of an open fire listening to the conversations of her subjects in suspicion of insurgency. Ambrosine commands all attention the minute she enters a room and revels in the fear she evokes in people. With each passing day she becomes more and more unstable.
Fire Manipulation: Ambrosine can manipulate and produce flames at will. Fire will not harm her and she surrounds herself in the destructive force whenever possible. Ambrosine has all but given herself entirely to the flames that speak to her and can summon powerful destructive forces of flames at a whim. She rarely uses her power however, instead manually building flames and burning effigies for to feed her master.
Flame Watching: Ambrosine can listen to any conversations spoken near an open fire, during winter she is almost exclusively in front of a fire listening to the conversations of her subjects. If she ever hears of any words or meetings for insurgents she personally visits the group and slaughters them save for the leader whom she turns to her side as a warning to future insurgents.
Persuasion: Ambrosine's insane amount of voice endowment allow her to turn even strangers to her side. She rarely speaks but when she does it is for a purpose as she knows her voice will create commands.
Biography: At Ambrosine’s christening, all of the citizens of Eyremoth were invited to see their new princess. The princess was given four endowments of grace in front of the elite of the small country as a princess should be as beautiful as possible. Ambrosine felt pure bliss but was disgusted by the appearance of the four children who had given her their beauty to amplify hers. The five year old vowed never to take another endowment again at her christening and was met with uncomfortable silence from her father’s subjects.
Her childhood was almost entirely uneventful, she was taught everything that a princess should know. Her life revolved around learning how to speak a multitude of different tongues depending on who her father would marry her off to and how to behave in different social events. Ambrosine’s father was distant and always had stately matters to attend to which saddened the young girl. Her mother was attentive and Ambrosine would spend all her free time simply talking with the Queen.
At the age of nine the Queen became pregnant and all in the castle were hoping for a boy. Despite never being directly told Ambrosine knew that her father would have preferred she be a boy for reasons not entirely understood by her yet. Three weeks after her tenth birthday Ambrosine’s mother died during labor. Her brother survived. She cried the entire month.
After the passing of her mother Ambrosine was never the same and blamed her brother for stealing away her mother. The fact that everyone seemed to have completely forgotten the Queen in favor of grooming the ruler to be enraged her even more. She would spend her free time alone in her mother’s chambers smelling her perfumes and rearranging her things. Ambrosine would yell and scream at any of the servants who tried to clean her late mother’s room.
One winter when she was twelve she was sitting in front of the fire in her mother’s chambers simply staring blankly at the flames when they spoke to her. It called out her name and her eyes grew wide and she looked around bewildered. Once again she heard her name and knew that it couldn’t be coming from anywhere except the flames. She fell to her knees and leaned in to the fire hoping to hear more but nothing else was said to her that night. Each night she would stare at the fire until she could no longer stay up and hope that it would speak to her again.
On her thirteenth birthday it finally spoke to her again. It spoke her brother’s name and she stared confusedly into the flames. The fire crackled and snapped before simply stating “kill”. Ambrosine screamed and quickly grabbed a bucket of water that was at her side. She doused the flames and heard it scream out in pain and felt a sharp stinging sensation in herself before falling to the ground.
She stayed away from fires after that night. When Ambrosine was sixteen and her brother was seven her father was preparing to go on his annual hunting trip and was taking her brother James along with him. She was envious, although she had never spent a day out in the wilderness she couldn’t help but feel left out. One of her hand maidens noticed this and boldly suggested to the king that he take his daughter along with him. Instead of ordering the servant to be beaten the King mulled it over and decided to take the girl with him.
At the camp site Ambrosine felt even more ignored than ever. Her father spent all his time teaching her brother how to properly hunt and set up camp while she was being told to fetch wood or water. The camping trip was mostly uneventful until the fourth and what would be final night. Ambrosine was not tired unlike her father, his friends, and her precious brother who had all been out hunting while she stayed at the camp site with the servants. She was the last one out in front of the fire when the King simply told her to remember to put it out before she went to bed.
She stayed up simply lost in her thoughts when she heard her name come from the flames once more. Ambrosine was scared once again but this time spoke back. She spoke to the fire for two hours, simply talking to it as she once spoke to her mother.
The King had woken up in the middle of the night to relieve himself when he realized he could still hear the fire. He angrily grumbled to himself and would make sure to scold the princess but what he saw when he exited his tent was far more frightening.
Ambrosine was all but inside the flames, speaking to it in an unnatural tongue as the flames danced about around her and crackled and snapped back endlessly at the adolescent.
“What are you doing?!” Her father bellowed out causing Ambrosine to yell out in shock. She jumped back from the flames in fear as her father roughly pushed her away from the fire. He grabbed the pail of water and readied it when the flames called out to her once more, pleading for help.
“STOP!” She shrieked out, waking almost everyone up.
“Silence!” The King spoke back “Demon child, if you think you will ever leave the castle before your marriage again…” Her father berated her as his men and her brother emptied out of their tents but she could not focus on him or them. The flames danced and spoke, begged for sustenance and she knew what she had to do.
Ambrosine rushed forward and pushed her father into the fire, feeling an incredible amount of delight as he screamed and burned. The fire grew immensely and unnaturally, consuming the King at an incredibly fast rate. The flames turned unnatural bright colors and spread across the ground consuming tents and trapping men. Ambrosine danced around in circles singing to herself as the entire camp site burned to the ground.
Her brother cried and ran up to her burying his face into her abdomen yelling at her to make it stop. The sixteen year old bent down and gathered him into her arms and walked into the fire.
Ambrosine was the only survivor.
She has ruled with an iron fist since she became Queen Regent at sixteen. Ever since discovering a rare vain of blood metal she has spent less and less time in the actual castle and more time in the mountains overseeing the forging of the metal. She has two right hand maidens whom are her vectors from which she has gathered an incredibly large amount of voice endowments from. Her voice is so powerful that she can convince total strangers to follow her whims in a few words.
She rarely interacts with her subjects aside from the forced labor she imposes on the men to work in her mines. Ambrosine has big plans in store for her country and is about to act on one of them soon enough, she has an incredibly large amount of rare and untested forcibles built up ready to be used on the Eyremoth army.
Name: Cendrillon the Wizard (Although everyone just calls him Dri)
Age: Appears to be in his late teens.
Appearance: Don't judge. D:
Personality: He is sort of a lose wire. One second he'll be offering someone hot chocolate or a warm hug and the next he's setting their house on fire. This has been such a common occurrence that no one wants him to be a house guest but everyone's too afraid to tell the fire elemental no... So houses continue to burn down and no one actually ever gets to drink their cocoa.
Endowments (if any): None
Powers (if any): Fire Wizard: He is the fire and the fire is him.
-Hear any words spoken by an open flame
-Draw heat and energy from flames
-Draw heat from the sun: However, this is an exhausting task and he needs consume the energy from flames for hours to even barely accomplish this task.
Biography: Cendrillon is fire and fire is Cendrillon. Life is as simple as that. One point in time, he had a family. Since he was a baby he was babbling to flames and ripping up pieces of his clothing and furniture and tossing them into the flames like confetti. And, as he didn't grow out of this phrase, his parents would constantly scold him. "That blouse is silk! That's mahogany!" He couldn't stay with them. They were apathetic and cold; not wizards but still bodies of waters. All humans were filled with squishing water- vital for their survival. And, once he had gotten old enough to get the idea of running away into his head, he did. It was all rather cliche.
Freedom. Because once he had shredded away form his confinements, he realized exactly what he was. Life! Fire was life, and life couldn't be wasted rotting away in some cottage full of only clothing and furniture to burn. Cendrillon went a little manic at first, burning down forests and small villages solely for fun. After some uncertain amount of time, Cendrillon came back to himself. He tried to rebuild everything he destroyed, but always ending up either getting angry with himself and burning it down again or realizing how boring building was and... burned them down again. It's not really that he means to be rude or something. Honestly, Cendrillon is just doing everyone a favor by bringing life to everyone's boring existence.
Lately, Cendrillon has just been exploring the world and has been the house guest of very unfortunate families. But he's a very well-mannered house guest! Until he sees someone drinking water or a mouse and something... And, really, he should get a medal of honor or something because of the damage he's done to the mice population. That is... if everyone could look over the various houses that have been causalities to his mission of mouse destruction.
Ellell'Verbrosa A'Elel [El-ee-el-ver-bro-say Ah-el-ee-El]
There was a time when L'll could have been described as a kind, generous, pleasant young man. However, those times are gone. He is mostly unfettered. He has a strangely selfish and self conscious personality in which he is focused on himself, his well-being, and his benefit. He doesn't get involved in things that won't provide some benefit to himself. He isn't the guy to throw himself into a brawl to save someone or to jump in the way of a robbery in order to help someone else. He is the sort of guy that will watch that brawl and that theft then seek a way to turn his knowledge into some monetary substitute. He doesn't care for strangers or his neighbor or the suffering of other people in distant lands. He only cares about his own problems and his own suffering to the point that he'd be emotional about it. The only ones in this world that he truly, genuinely cares about are his parents, unborn sibling, and Seral, his pet. Everyone else is just a supply of information he can exploit to turn around for some benefit.
He is mostly neutral, however he will play a bad or good guy depending on what assignment he is given. If he is to spy on some noble, he'd be at the side of that noble and wouldn't do or say anything to disrespect that noble as to secure his chances of getting information. That being said, he'd even kill and hurt others if it means his job will go all the smoother. The lives of others are not his problem. He's trained to kill, without mercy, and to do it in quick and violent fashions. Despite that training, he's never actually had to kill anyone yet. Still, he has sold information that has ruined the lives of others or led to many being killed and he does not regret that. You could say he is remorseless, however it is more like he sees death, suffering, pain and loss all as part of the cost of being mortal.
He does have a slight soft spot for children, however. Not to the degree that he would ever risk his life for a kid, but he can be more compassionate and considerate towards children. He's yet to have met a kid that he finds worthwhile, however he does value the lives of children higher than that of adults. Children are the future and, sometimes, he sees a little of the joyful innocence he once had in children and that does make him happy. Just as money, power, and security make him happy.
Another major aspect of his personality is trust. For the most part, L'll doesn't trust anyone. He doesn't fully even trust his parents. He doesn't share secrets and, honestly, he can't be trusted with secrets either. He'd sell you out for the best price to the highest bidder, but he would ensure that he never put himself in a situation in which you could do the same to him. He's careful, cautious, and secretive to the point of being near paranoid.
Endowments (if any):
Touch - Right Hand
Powers (if any):
- Sensitivity: Due to his Endowment of Touch he has heightened sensitivity all over his body, with it being most acute at his right hand. He is able to fell vibrations extremely well and he is able to distinguish differences in texture, substance, and the quality of something that is in his hand. His sensitivity is so keen that he is able to almost elementally detail something that he is touching. With a touch he could determine the nature of a metal, the age of a liquor, or how long something has been sitting somewhere. His sense of touch is so fine that he is able to acquire information from his environment that ordinarily would go unnoticed. He is able to feel differences in air pressure, slight vibrations, and resist pain a great deal better than many others.
- Pressure Blow - Critical Point Obstruction: Powerful skill revolving around his Endowment of Touch. It is a skill that requires a steady hand, careful aim, and light, yet penetrating, blow. By hitting someone in a specific pressure point he can make a certain part of their body become temporarily numb. He can do this quickly and efficiently. He is able to strike a target in the middle of one of their own attacks. He is skilled enough that, by striking the underarm, he could temporarily disable an individual's arm in the middle of a punch. Should he manage to get behind an individual he could even knock them unconscious with a quick strike to the base of their neck. Naturally, this attack is focused on his right hand and would only work should his right hand manage physical contact with the specific target.
- Trained Killer: He is trained in the use of various weapon types, from swords to axes to daggers, and is trained in hand-to-hand combat. However, his greatest assets relies in his ability to kill without the use of combat. Killing a target from afar, using poisons, paying someone else to do the killing...He is trained to handle himself fairly well in a fight however his actual experience with fighting isn't as decorated. He is no where near as skilled as some of the knights that have trained their sword arm for decades, nor is he quite as versatile as a mage with devastating magic. He is, on the contrary, trained to kill swiftly. Where as a mage and a knight would have him in drawn out, straight forward, fair fight he is to fight with quick lethal force. This would be such as using a poisoned tipped arrow against a mage from the shadows or using a flurry of poisoned tipped daggers against a knight. He is trained to kill without remorse, the innocent or guilty, and in the most efficient way that he can manage under pressure. He actually is very talented at hand-to-hand combat.
Ellell'verbrosa A'Elel comes from an extremely traditional, old fashioned, bumpkin family that haven't stepped foot in a major city or town for generations. His family live nomadically and travel using horticulture and foraging as a means to survive. They were apart of a highly secretive band of people that had various names. They were highly intuned with nature and almost always were involved in magic, and they held a very reserved and respectable lifestyle involving meditation, respecting your fellow man and keeping the mind pure. There were many that sought to investigate and interact with this nomadic culture, however none ever returned to their Masters. The people are still 'till this day a complete mystery.
Before L'll was born, his father, in his youth, wanted to explore the world. When they were close to Mystarria he went into the city, despite that it was forbidden by his people. He fell in love with a woman name Ellie at first glance. His father returned to his people, swore a few oaths, then he was banished from ever returning. He gave up everything and went to live in Mystarria. Almost a decade later, L'll would be born and he'd be given a traditional name from his father. One his mother shortened to L'll.
Growing up, L'll never really had the opportunity to even know about his culture. His father had certain habits, but his own upbringing was one within Mystarria. He was dragged into the mainstream design and looked, acted, and carried himself just as all the other children of Mystarria. He was fairly normal with a bad habit of involving himself in the business of others. L'll swore, at a young age, that he would one day be a detective. He would be the guy to uncover the greatest mysterious of the World! His mother was always enthused by his desire, however his father always told him to seek something practical...Like craftsmanship. Being a talented craftsman and having his own business, L'll's father wanted him to take after him. It was too bad L'll wanted nothing to do with his father's business.
L'll's youth was spent inventing adventures, hunting down lost pets, and spying on his neighbors. Despite most of it being playful, innocent fun he did manage to find a few pets. He truly wished to be a detective and, as he didn't grow out of it, his mother thought he should dedicate himself to the crown. Becoming a man of service was approved by his father as well. L'll liked the idea at first, but when he hit his teens, he became a little rebellious.
L'll wasn't the sort of guy that liked being told what to do. He didn't like following the rules or acting as adults expected him too. His spying and investigating became serious as he started hunting down crime and looking for ways to being a real detective. There was a point that he was even spying on nobles and men of the Crown. He wasn't a big fan of many types of adults. In his early teens he'd found that a lot of people couldn't be trusted. People lie to your face, steal from your pocket, then smile and wish you a merry day. It was a bad idea to put your faith in people because people weren't trustworthy. He started to make a sort of business turning in crooks and underhanded crime to the authorities...Basically he was a snitch. He was good at it, however, and he was paid well sometimes...Cheated other times. He wasn't a big fan of those he would report too however...They didn't respect him. He hated that about people with money and status.
He swore he'd never be like them.
A big turning point in his life was when his father became sick. The doctors didn't know what to call the illness, but he had excruciating pain in his hands, knees, back and toes. It was far too difficult for him to continue his crafting, as intricate as it was. The weakness was in his bones and there was no relief for him. The only thing his father could do was to take it easy and do very light work, but it wasn't enough to continue supporting them. His father was practically bedridden by the illness. In order to offer him some relief, L'll took his father's ability to feel away by means of an old traditional method of transferring an Endowment. His family didn't know what was more surprising about the fact his father could do such a thing on his own or that he had the necessary materials, in bulk, to do it. The amount of Blood Metal his father held was enough to live a very wealthy life for a long while, L'll was sure.
The Endowment was pretty incredible. At first, it was easy to be hurt on his hand. Cold was colder and hot was hotter...However, with some training and focus, L'll managed some mastery over the Endowment. His father, although living a better life, still could only barely craft. His hands are shaky and he stumbles often. He tends to break a quarter of what he produces and he is always tired and weary. Although he was able to make enough to keep food on the table it wasn't enough to keep everyone in good condition. What was worse was that his mother was expecting a child too. L'll decided that the thing he needed to do. He would have to enlist under the current Monarchy of Mystarria.
When he was 16 he went to the Knights and the Head of the Laborers and he'd managed to have made a few connections with them when he was younger. One of the King's Hands asked for him and offered him a job working as a man who finds others, infiltrates places, and acts as a broker for information...He was to be a royal spy.
Now, the implications were big. Naturally, spying on your neighbors and some local punks was totally different than spying on some enemy nation or some hostile terrorists...However, he'd went in with the motivation to become a warrior if he had too so he knew the risks of his life. He accepted the job. He told his parents that he was taken on as some errand boy for one of the nobles. They were happy that he'd be working in a position that could get him the attention of some noble ladies. Little did they know that he was going to be trained to fight, kill, and ruin the lives of others.
And that he was.
He was trained by some of the top knights, scholars, and assassins on infiltration, fighting, and killing. He was taught politics, psychology, sociology and manipulation as well as poisons, how to bribe and how to blackmail. He was even trained to torture and to resist torture...Those were times he'd be more than happy to forget. He was trained to be an exceptional spy in the name of Mandelus Draken Orden.
Currently he awaits his next assignment. For odd jobs he typically takes cases the people are looking into. Sometimes he chases down thieves, assassins, mercenaries, missing persons, information or, sometimes, a missing pet. He's never let a single kid down when it comes to finding a lost animal. About a year back, when he was looking for a lost pup, he found a Ferrin youngling. Ever since they've been together. L'll named the Ferrin Seral. They are practically partners through and through.