Today started like any other; awake three hours before dawn, toiling in the fields by sunrise, and supping at around midday.
Today ended like no other.
A woman's scream sailed across the otherwise still air of summer, coming from the village - your village - Cowfallow. You and your fellow farmhands looked up from your labours, secretly revelling the opportunity to take a respite from the back breaking work.
No one moved. Women screamed all the time for one reason or another, it was just how they were... but there was something about the sound itself that stirred your hearts. Something unnatural. Something all together terrifying.
The scream came again, but this time it was not alone. A whole orchestra of high-pitched horror broke across you and the other labourers like a sandstorm. Some flinched, others took a few steps back in bewilderment.
Not you though, because for some reason or other, you were made of finer stuff. You advanced back towards Cowfallow, pitchfork in hand, eyeing the sleepy little thatch cottages with the resolve found in few. Trouble was brewing for yourself and your neighbours, and running wasn't going to help whatever was happening a few hundred yards away.
Hurrying, you are joined by like-minded individuals, men and women alike, brandishing scythes, hoes, hatchets and shovels. An impromptu militia; Cowfallow's very own immune system gearing up to deal with a foreign incursion.
You barely cleared the first hundred yards back to the village, when you realised that the screams were almost constant - and agonising to the ear drums... though there was something else, mingling with the desperate screams of the womenfolk.
Men were yelling, and loudly. Their curses and shouts of alarm threatened to overtake the wails of their female kin. For a moment, you all paused as the ringing of steel thundered across the rows of barley, assailing your senses, and rising you into a blood-lust.
Cowfallow was under attack!
But by who? You wondered.
You all quickened your pace, and before long, barley gave way to gravel road. The crunching of stone beneath a hundred and twenty feet formed an audio shield around you, blocking out whatever fell deeds were befalling your home. This gave your eyes just that extra push they needed to admire the rising flames on the thatch cottages, the billowing black smoke, and the steady stream of your neighbours rushing across Bridge Fallow.
The bridge leads travellers out of the village; if people were fleeing, then things really were bad.
Reaching the bridge, your bumpkin militia came to a halt. An old man, Friar Bento you knew him as - Cowfallow's clergyman - fell down at your feet pleading for help. Other villagers rushed past you, some of them covered in cuts and bruises or missing essential articles of clothing. Men, women, old and young.
"Orcs!" the Friar managed through shuddering lips, before collapsing onto the ground; an old heart broken by shock.
Impossible! The Greenskins hadn't been seen on Ashuran's side of the Grim Teeth mountains in over a century! The Duke kept them at bay tirelessly, there was no way they could have gotten past his garrison at Blackspire Roost... unless, there was no more garrison!
Looking ahead, you saw past your fleeing neighbours; at their back was an entire host of black-clad figures, punctuated with exposed green wrists and thighs. Enlarged incisors jutted from wide grins, and cold eyes of reddish hue looked on at the coming slaughter with ecstasy.
Some of your group fled immediately, downing arms and joining the rush of villagers. Some of you stayed though, and thank the Gods!
Someone had to hold off the Orcs, and it ffell to a handful of farmers to fill the role of valiant knights. Some say bravery is stupidity dressed up to look like some glorious deed; others say it is the essential building blocks of a heroic individual.
For the hapless hearts, farm tools in hand, it was time to find out.
Huzzah!
Hello and welcome to Unlikely Heroes, a low fantasy RP revolving around a group of lowly peasants who shall arise to greatness in a Kingdom's darkest hour!
Old, young, male or female - it matters not. The Gods do not discriminate when it comes to the casting of a hero... though they sometimes have an odd sense of humour with it.
Cowfallow is a backwater village, nestled on the eastern borders of Ashuran - a small knightly Kingdom with Orc tribes encroaching on its doorstep. For centuries, these tribes have been kept at bay by the courage of armoured men in the form of Ashuran Knights.
Somehow though, in the case of your home, the local Duke has failed in his duty to prevent an incursion. Shame be to him! ... unless, you know, he died valiantly fighting to the last man at his keep a few leagues away. Not likely though, right? Nah, course not.
But just in case that is exactly what has happened, then Ashuran is looking set to face yet another bloody and terrible war with the Orc tribes of the east. The sixth such war in a millennia, and each one has been more costly than the next.
So where does your potential character stand in all of this? Simple really. They'll either hold the bridge - or die trying - and then decide the next course of action. Alert the Duke to the threat? If he does indeed still live. Opt for caution and flee for the nation's capital of Crimson Sky, and petition the King for action? Form a guerilla band to check the Orc advance like a bunch of little hedge huggers?
All of the above?
But wait, there's more!
Your character isn't a battle hardened warrior. They're a farmhand - someone who tends crops and spends all day sweating for a meagre living. Though if they want to continue living, maybe they need to pick up a discarded Orc cleaver and learn how to use it? Maybe their uncle's hunting bow looks like an attractive prospect?
Watch your little peasant go from a have-a-go-hero, to a Lord Commander of the King's Army... or you know, a boring apothecary with the knowledge to burn people's insides.
As for the RP's rules, all the usual stuff applies. Don't be a dick. Don't be an egotstical dick. Check yourself before you wreck yourself. Don't do drugs. Don't eat too much. Exercise at least thirty minutes a day. Give your mum a call, see how she is. Yeah, that stuff.
Any problematic players will wear my patience thin fairly quickly, you have been warned.
OH, OH, and also, no magic. Magic complicate things, and there's always some eight year old who wants to play Gandralf the Gaysaur that obliterates everything and CAN NEVER LOSE BECAUSE LOSING IS BAD TO MY ADOLESCENT MIND :D:D :D:D:D:DDURRRRRRRP.
This isn't a game, it's an RP, a roleplay, a collaborative mofo'in art form. Please, please, please do not try to "win" something. That's not how it works.
On matters of religion...
In a low fantasy medieval world, there always has to be religion - atheism comes from the dreary and depressing reality of there being nothing awesome in the world to look forward to. If that was the case in this RP, then I'd of just named it France 1321 A.D and we'd all be engaging in total misery.
Okay, so I'm not going to bore you with a ten thousand word essay on each Deity and their millions of stories. It's not needed, and if I was going to do that, I'd just turn this RP into a book and make loads of money from it.
I'm not going to do that.
So without further ado:
There are three main Gods that are worshipped across the world (although there are others, from rival religions that exist in different canons to these presented), Sheesha the Goddess of Conception, Megmahn the God of The Present Moment and Fala, the Goddess of Futility.
Each of the three Gods are not usually worshipped directly; rather, the avatars they use to convey their faces to the world are instead. However, this is not to say the Gods walk among men - they do not - no one has seen one since the publication of the Holy Sentinel - the holy book pertaining to the existence of the three gods. Naturally, it was written thousands of years ago.
There are many avatars, so many in fact, that the followers of ... let's call them The Three for short, have no real sects. Instead, temples exist and are looked after by a clergyman (or woman ;)) who maintains its sanctity. Worshippers are free to visit the temples and converse with their avatars through prayer, in a perceived effort to be closer to the heavens. It doesn't matter what avatar, or what master God(dess) is being followed.
*breathes*
I hope that makes sense to you all. IF not, go look up Hinduism, because that's what I'm basing this off (not strictly though, just the avatar idea).
Sheesha - The Godess of Conception. No, not sexy times conception - actually, that too. Sheesha is the mistress of all creation; she is life, she is the lamb, the piglet, the newly erupted volcano, the rising sun of each day - she is everything new.
She is worshipped by millions in one form or another, and her followers are typically anyone with a positive outlook on life. Those who hold true to her ideals of peace, compassion and procreation are said to never truly die - but are instead born anew at the end of their lives.
Example avatars:
Kalem, a four limbed serpent who wears a crown of skulls. Represents the circle of life, specifically, the idea that one's own life is quite unimportant when a new one awaits at the end of it.
Bishan, a giant oxen loaded with a cot of crying babes. Represents new life, specifically, the idea that more are born in the world each day than die, and therefore life is triumphing over death.
Koldo, a dying old man ridden with disease but present a happy smile. Represents contentment in the face of life's hardships, specifically, one can die happy knowing that they will live again.
Megmahn = The God of the Present Moment. Megmahn is lust, ecstasy, intoxication, rage and all things moving. Every heartbeat, every forgotten breath, is testimony to his realm; his avatars concern themselves with living in the moment, both emotionally and pragmatically. Traditionally, they are worshipped by an umbrella of all kinds of peoples, from all walks of life.
Followers of Megmahn's avatars believe they will be broken from the dreaded life cycle of Sheesha's design, and will instead become part of Megmahn's infinite power. Apparently, this is a good thing and concerns joyful eternity in some multiversity realm.
Example Avatars:
Kragnar - a giant Troll, its head buried in the muscle of its massive shoulders; both hands grip a pair of severed human heads. Represents blood lust - a warrior's ecstasy to be gorged upon in the heat of a live or die battle.
Eesa - A naked human woman, with symmetrical features, who leans upon a broken sun dial. Followers of Eesa generally believe that the age of a being is irrelevant; so long as blood still pumps in one's veins, then let the party of youth go on!
Sidhart - A prostrated man with a shaven head, eyes closed in an almost sleep like fashion. A slim smile adorns his face. Sidhart represents the gentle savouring of every breath, of every breeze and ray of sun light the world has to offer - of the letting go of ideas such as the past and the future.
Fala - Sometimes known as the Jester, Fala mocks all things living, and is concerned with the abolition of the notion that anyone, Gods included, is special in a universe that knows no bounds. She brings much needed rationale and cold pragmatism to calm the potentially explosive cauldron formed by the presence of her brother and sister.
Peoples who worship Fala tend to be philosopher types; lawyers, clergymen, poets and kings. When they die, they are said to be given to the Void, whereby they become nothingness. Some consider this a just respite from the tedium of living.
Example Avatars:
King Kohn and Princess Mera - A human king and his daughter; both despise each other, and wage an endless war of conquest in the multiversal realm. They represent kinstrife, and the idea that a child will always grow covetous of a powerful parent. A futile conflict, that will be repeated by the offspring of the victor. People worship Kohn and Mera, so that the two will be too distracted with their war to bother infecting the minds of mortals.
The Rat - A ... well, a rat. Rats are survivors; they die by the tens of thousands each day whether from nature or a civilised race's intervention, yet their numbers are never truly diminished. The rat represents stubbornness and endless resolve in a hostile world that knows no respite in violence and yet yields little reward to those who weather the onslaught.
Hector - The fool who thought he killed Achilles
Caninn Troy - Said to have been a powerful sorcerer of the Old World; Caninn devoted his entire life using his powers to establish himself as a God. On the eve of his success, Fala came down from the Void and enslaved his flesh as one of her avatars. A powerful lesson, concerning the futility of giving your all to raise your place in the world, and its irrelevance in the face of the Almighty. People worship him, so that they will never know his folly. A peasant is a peasant. A king is a king.
On matters of racial diversity...
Low fantasy without goblins is just 14th century France (Yeah I'm gonna keep hitting that notion).
Ashuran is a small knightly realm, led by a King who supposedly upholds the ideals of courage and honour. He is on friendly terms with most races, and accepts all through his borders who are not known criminals. It is predominately a human realm, but minorities from neighbouring Kingdoms ( and those far away) do dwell there in small numbers. Some racism exists, but none of it manifests into widespread abuse and rioting; rather, it concerns back-room cussing and the occasional beating.
It is not totally uncommon to see a spindly troll ploughing a field, or an Elf fallen from grace trying to scrape continued existence from a pile of cow dung.
In short, we'll allow for all races of traditional fantasy races, and also those of a player's imagination. Obviously, nothing with a magical component... and also um, if your race is a long-lived one, such as the Elves, then make them young. It's unlikely that they'd be so ignorant in skills and combat experience otherwise; the whole idea is that we're all wollies learning on the fly.
And also no land sharks, they tend to ruin RPs.
Character Sheet
I think normal protocol dictates you post this in the OOC first, and then the Character Tab once I've confirmed it?
[b]Race:[/b] Human/Elf/Dwarf/Troll/Goblin/Gnome/Halfling/Pochyfolk (friggin elephant people!) etc
[b]Race Description:[/b] If custom. No eye-related laser beams.
[b]Avatar:[/b] Which of the many faces used by The Three does your character worship? Or are they a filthy heretic atheist? Feel free to go completely nuts here, and give a little description so we know what yo character is about.
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b] Text or picture :)
[b]Current Equipment:[/b]
[b]Handy Skills:[/b] Nothing directly related to combat. Examples: Horse riding, leather working, fletching, wound treatment. Don’t go overboard though, you’re a full time farmhand and a part time whatever.
[b]Personality at RP's Start:[/b] This is more for your benefit, so that you don't forget who you're playing. Obviously, people do evolve somewhat as time goes on, and so this may change as your character experiences the horrors of being a hero.
[b]Facts Likely Known To Others:[/b] Anything about your character that their colleagues may know; examples might be that they have a brother, or once fell of a horse and broke their shoulder, or was caught with the master's wife behind the chicken coup. This is here purely to ease character-to-character interaction.No back story required. You're a farmhand, your life sucks, that is literally it. I like that stuff to come out in the RP myself, plus it saves you hassle, double win?
If your character has any family in the village, by all means find their dismembered corpses and have an emotional breakdown at will - or ya know, save them.
Although if you do save your loved ones, I will not permit your character to talk like Batman. You know, the whole Max Payne croaky voice thing. Only extreme emotional baggage + alcoholism + heavy smoking unlocks that particular skill set.
