It is said that all things are on half of one whole; that everything is completed, or opposed, by something else. That is balance, according to men with too much time on their hands to remunerate such matters.
In the world of Arilyth, the curse of undeath has haunted its peoples for thousands of years. Men and women drawn to macabre sorceries make mockery of life and death, raising corpses from their graves and fuelling their power with the souls of the silent dead. It is from the whims of necromancers that a greater menace has taken root in the world, a scourge that cannot be eradicated, a plague that spreads from one to another: the vamphiir. Vamphiirs are a sentient undead creature, unshackled by necromancers, and chained by their inhuman hunger for the vitality of the living. The life of one brought down to a few seconds of utter euphoria, to experience the warmth of life once again, to remember, to feel…
As there is darkness in the world, so is there light to oppose it. In this case, fire – the Order of Cinders.
For three thousand years, men and women have flocked to the Order, pushed by vengeance, hatred and circumstance to endure a lifetime of peril hunting creatures and sorcerers that would otherwise threaten the world. It is a thankless task, and one often appreciated with chagrin, complaint, and in many unfortunate cases, the death of a hunter. Their mission is simple – purge the dark. Yet such a sacred duty, one avowed in blood, is complicated by the nature of their foes and an enemy that they cannot face – the fear of those who do not know any better.
However, the nights grow longer. An unsettling chill has taken hold in the world. The stars dim, and black clouds cage the gaze of the moon. A new menace has made itself known, and for the sake of the world, the Order of Cinders must embark on what may be their last great hunt.
Premise
Welcome to Black Cinders, a story based in the fantastical world of Arilyth.
You are one of the Hunters or Huntresses of the Order of Cinders, an organisation dedicated to the eradication of the undead. Prior to the events of this story, you were on the hunt or preparing for one, but your plans were interrupted by an urgent summons issued by the Huntress-General Valla Dagan. Your characters have been commanded to travel to the port of Isamanca, where you are expected by the Duke and Duchess Chavarra.
Our tale begins in Isamanca, a city of extravagance and indulgence, a hedonist paradise caught in a cultural renaissance.
Gameplay
This is a fantasy adventure, interwoven with elements of a darker and grittier world and storyline. Players will remain together throughout the majority of the RP. Character depth and development will be important here, and more importantly, character interaction.
There will be some action, some combat, some intrigue and some mystery. Players may have to make hard decisions, decisions that will impact how you are viewed and how the story plays out. I haven’t planned everything out - I have a vague overview of the major plot points. How we arrive at these plot points falls to how the players interact with the story. I encourage side-stories, and I encourage players as a collective to work to achieve certain goals and forge a brilliant story together. This is, in my opinion anyway, what makes a great roleplay for all involved.
Black Cinders will begin in Isamanca. However, it will leave the port eventually, and our characters will find themselves caught in a malicious web that will at times divide us.
Character
In this section, I will summarise details about your characters and the Order of Cinders.
The Order of Cinders was founded by a pyromancer named Kal Dagan three thousand years ago in the ruins of an ancient city following the birth (or, rebirth, rather) of the first vamphiir. The influence of Kal Dagan has remained strong throughout the longevity of the organisation, as it has taken the Crowned Wyrm of the Dagan Clan as its crest, and made many of his descendants leaders of the Order. One such example is the current Huntress-General, Valla.
Upon the mountains of northern Sivar Velg is the House of Fire, also known as the Hold of the Hunters, a monolithic bastion of stone the colour of ash. Massive fires burn all day and night, their light a beacon in the intense blizzards native to the region. All Hunters and Huntresses know the House of Fire to be their home. In many cases, it is the place that they were raised. Subsequently, it acts as their headquarters, their armoury, their school and their family.
Most Hunters and Huntresses come to the Order of Cinders as orphans, or those touched by the plight of the dead. Many are traumatised and frightened, but their rigorous training transforms fear and breeds it with hate, creating a lethal fighter out of the most impacted victims. This does not break them though, for all Hunters and Huntresses have already known great pain and loss, and it is their hatred and desire for vengeance that spurs them onward.
Members are referred to as Hunter or Huntress (the capitalisation is an important distinction). Hunters and Huntresses of great skill and experience are promoted to the rank of Hunter/Huntress-Captain. They are the only members of the Order, save the Hunter/Huntress-General, permitted to teach or lead a group of Hunters/Huntresses. As mentioned before, the leader of the Order is the Hunter/Huntress-General.
Members of the Order adorn themselves in supple, flexible black leathers and cloth, depending on where they are of course. The object that distinguishes them as a Hunter or Huntress is a black coat bound by one single brass button. It is important to remember that members are almost always hunting, and that their hunt can take them to all kinds of places. Consequently, they are well-travelled, cultured and quite worldly, and many are bi- or even multilingual. When on a hunt, only Hunter/Huntress-Captains are formally allowed to recruit individuals and bring them to the House of Fire, though individual Hunters and Huntresses are known to make the suggestion to those they see potential in.
The pyromancers of this guild specialise in a particular type of magic called ‘ebon pyromancy’, a sorcery that is unique to the Order. The fires they produce take an unnatural red colour, marred by streaks of black whenever undead are nearby. Whilst any fire is able to kill a vamphiir, ebon pyromancy is doubly effective.
The Order of Cinders’ words are, “by will of fire, darkness becomes cinder.”
As a member of the Order of Cinders, you have taken a blood-oath to the eradication of undeath. You despise anything and everything that does not live, and any individual dabbling in foul sorceries that invoke these unnatural forces. You have walked a road filled with hardship, and now live a life of untold danger. This journey has defined you, perhaps in more ways than you can imagine.
CHARACTER SKELETON Name: [self-explanatory. I hope.] Appearance: [this includes age. Feel free to use a picture, though a description is always appreciated.] Biography: [your backstory. Where you come from, what events have shaped you, when and how did you end up with the Order of Cinders? And as a side-piece, where you were when you received the summons to Isamanca.] Personality: [normally I shy away from this, but your characters will essentially know each other, or are aware of each other, so there are likely to be elements of your character and their behaviour that other members of the Order, and thus other characters, would know about. This isn’t a psychoanalysis. This is a chance for you to express what others will or should know about how your character ticks. I hope this inspires some camaraderie or conflict between our cast.]
Setting
The following is a brief compendium of information relevant to the story and character creation. Isamanca, and the Revosso Peninsula at large, will be written about in length in my first story post.
ESSENTIAL INFORMATION World: Arilyth Year: It is the 831st Year of the Third Era Happenings: In Sivar Velg, the lonely town of Balgath is raided by barbarians under Cherak Gundagir. Balgath, being the heart of most trade in southern Sivar Velg, will likely not recover from this attack. The Sivarans continue to be their own demise. Meanwhile, Sigga, Queen of Maegul, colonises parts of the Thousand Glades and marries Auvil Margeir, Lord of the Freehold of the Glades.
Adrion Meryn is crowned as King of Lorinth. He is expected to marry Annebeth Asere, a union that is likely to consolidate the vassal of Alassia with the power of Lorinth.
The Revosso Peninsula prepares for the autumn solstice, where the people celebrate the culture and prosperity of the peninsula and the cities governing it. The dukes and duchesses of these city-states prepare for their annual meeting in Isamanca to discuss the politics of their cities and the looming threat of Jzarea.
Ibzya receives emissaries from Jzarea, a move that has greatly angered the principalities, whom are already fighting the Jzareans.
The Jade Sea is a graveyard for the fleets of both the principalities and the empire. The Jzareans were not able to overcome the Ashareen Armada, but were able to successfully land in Varazhyr and take Bashra, along with the Gulf of Khelat. Tensions in the south are rising, yet despite the war, the Ashareen economy is thriving. Despite decades of rivalry, the Republic of Paerium has allied with the principalities.
Meanwhile, in Jzarea, it is said that the saviour of the druidai (currently enslaved) has been born.
MAGIC
Magic is the ability to control, to bend and to change. The definition varies between the four types of magic, but they all agree that magic is the essence of change. Some even go far enough to say that magic is the manifestation of chaos in the world. That being said, however, magic is a part of the world. It is a natural force, and as such it exhibits qualities that are both benevolent and malevolent.
In Arilyth, the source of all arcane magic is At’aine, the Well of the World. It is a font of power and the meeting place of the world’s ley-lines, rivers of energy that flow freely beneath the world. The ithuri are connected to the Well of the World (fuelling their belief that they created it, and that they are entitled to it over humanity), and as such all ithuri are born maegi. This is different for humans. In the Dawning Age of Arilyth, 100 men and women were invited to consume its iridescent waters, and through it attained power equivalent to a gods. The first maegi are known as the Primals, or Primal Maegi, and it is from them that all maegi are descended. All human maegi are part of the Bloodlines. However, they do not have the power of their ancestors, as their hallowed blood has been muddied by non-maegi and the natural decline of magic over the course of generations. There are two families that claim to be pure, however, and they are the Vaetharians of Maltheria and the Quelanthans of Ibzya.
Physiologically, magic acts like a muscle. To cast magic, one requires a source to draw from, and a great deal of concentration and focus. Every time one uses magic, he or she strengthens their potential. However, that being said, magic does take its tolls. Physically, over-use can result in tiredness. In extreme cases, it can result in internal damage or even comatose and death. Emotionally and mentally, magic can damage your thinking patterns or severely alter your persona. Both cases apply most definitely to those who dabble in black magic (also known as daemonic magic). Warlocks in particular are prone to corruption of mind and body.
Age is also a factor in magic. The fitter and younger you are, the more potent your power is. That being said, it is possible for energetic elders to also channel powerful magic, but this is often with the aid of a medium such as an orb, a staff or tool, anything to reduce the full impact of the arcane. Another factor is power cap. Every maege is born with a different power cap that generally doesn’t expand. Your power cap determines how strong your magic will become and how much you can channel at one time. Unfortunately, most people with high power caps die very young.
There are four types of magic.
Firstly, there is arcane magic, which is derived entirely from the Well of the World. Pyromancer of any sort is a form of arcane magic. Practitioners of arcane magic who delve too deep into the energy of the Well are able to access the daemonic world of Maexarran and link (either forcefully, or voluntarily) with a daemon. The powers they wield are otherworldly – this is referred to as black, or daemonic, magic. Then, there is blood magic. Blood magic is any kind of spell that the maegi invokes using the power of their own blood, which allows maegi to perform feats of magic impossible with other forms. This includes necromancy.
The final kind of magic is an outlier to the others, in that it is not derived from the Well of the World. In the south, humans and fey mingled, and the result were people capable of commanding the forces of the wild. These includes Jzareans.
The differences between ebon pyromancy and normal pyromancy are few, yet there are key divisions. Ebonfire is an almost unnatural red colour and emits an intense heat that can sometimes be overwhelming. It was developed by pyromancers of the Order, for pyromancers of the Order, and is thus its secrets are maintained by the Order of Cinders’ Keeper of Flames. It is more malleable than natural fire, and is thus used in artifices by the Order, and will also kill undead quicker. A major distinguishing visual is that ebonfire develops streaks of black throughout it when nearing the presence of the undead; these streaks darken as you approach any source of undeath or necromancy.
THE HUMAN FACE OF ARILYTH
Ashara: from a glorious empire to splintered kingdoms governed by tyrants known as the Sword Kings, to now six united principalities. It was a lineage of queens that liberated the golden lands around the Bay of Blades, and helped construct the River of Riches to hasten the flow of trade across Ashara. They are an industrious and mercantile people, with a colourful culture and aesthetic to match. The principalities are Ezaraj, Aminah, Kalabad, Sabasar, Varazhyr and Moqorro. These are the nation of the Ashareen, descendants of the glorious Empire of Habbis. The Ashareen tend to be olive-skinned with manes of brown or black hair, with light eyes (from shades of golden brown to blue and green). Some are darker-skinned. The capital city of the region, and home to the ceremonial queen, is Ezarashe. Their culture is inspired by Persia, India and Arabia.
Ibzya: a large and inhospitable desert dominates this queendom. Ibzya, the Searing West, is nestled at the western part of the subcontinent of Araasyr. It is a land of all manner of peculiarities, of whimsical doodads and zoological oddities, all of which inspire foreigners to visit and trade with the hardy (and often hostile) Ibzyans. Ibzya is ruled by its dervishes, priests of their sun god, who drive them to wage war with the neighbouring gnolls for the underground lakes that their people so desperately require. They are of medium build, with brown skin, dark eyes and adorn themselves in whatever equipment is necessary to ward off the heat and the sand. The capital city of Ibzya is Qaithus. Their culture is inspired by Northern Africa.
Jzarea: the southern super-continent of Jeinei is home to the wild Jzarean Empire. Their might encompasses most of Jeinei, from its lush jungles to its oak forests. They are considered to be a barbaric culture, an assertion made based on their practices in slavery and the ruthlessness with which they have conquered the Jeinei. They worship a snake goddess, to whom they make human sacrifices daily. They are brown of skin and eye, with a vibrant sense of aesthetic, often adorning themselves in stones and piercing their bodies with gold. Their jungle home favour lithe and athletic builds, awarding them flexibility and also dexterity. The capital of Jzarea is Xan Balanque. Their culture is inspired by the Aztecs and Mesoamerica.
Lorinth: the northern subcontinent of Veldonn is the location of Lorinth, and the former kingdoms of Dumat, Alassia, Cheldaine, Baruvad and Pavellione. Lorintines are devoted to the worship of the Saints, paragons of their kingdom that helped forge it into the kingdom it is today. Their military and their faith are one in the same, as the knight-priests of Lorinth act as the pillars of their civilisation, protecting law and order, repairing buildings, giving alms and protecting the innocent. Despite the governance of Lorinth, its vassals are frequently host to rebellions and defiance, as proud nations pray desperately for liberty and independence. The capital city of Lorinth is Merynnas. Their cultures are inspired by England, France, Germany and the Holy Roman Empire.
Maltheria: the kingdom of stone, its fortresses etched into mighty peaks, linked by the tall, unyielding bridges of the Chain of Olgoroth. Maltheria was established six centuries before our tale by the Conclave of Maegi as a line of defence against the ithuri and anyone else threatening the Well of the World. Their endurance, resilience and propensity for hard labour and battle made them the ideal candidates for this, and it is their duty that has shaped them into the fighters they are known to be today. They tend to be tall and well-built, their muscles toned from years of training and battle, with brown hair and fair complexions. Their strength is unparalleled, and many are left shocked when in the presence of Maltherians working or fighting. The capital city of Maltheria is Aldaran-under-Shadow. Their culture is inspired by Greece, specifically Ancient Sparta.
Paerium: a small, unassuming nation trapped between the Peaks of Paerius. Paerium is minute in population and territory, yet it benefits from the mineral-dense mountains that cage and protect them. One such mineral is targium, a stone of great properties equivalent to gunpowder. The discovery and experimentation of this ore has resulted in Paerium becoming a place of invention and ingenuity, a land of inspiration, where cannons and rifles have been invented and tinkered with. The industrious nature of the Republic of Paerium has earned it quite a reputation, and it now enjoys economic, especially with war on the horizon in the south. The Paeric are a tall and proud race, dark of skin and eyes, and are closely linked to the first humans of the world. The capital city of Paerium is Paerium. Their culture is inspired by Ancient Rome.
Revosso: the Revosso Peninsula, a place of perpetual autumn and spring, is the focus of our tale. The duchies of Revosso are autonomous and rule in their own right, yet maintain a plethora of trade agreements and alliances that serve to significantly bolster their economy. It is the unity and the geography of Revosso that has aided them in usurping the Principalities of Ashara as the trading capital of the world. The culture here is vibrant, centred on food, wine, art, music, and hedonism. Indulgence, extravagance and culture are of great importance to the people here, even establishing a religion around Love & Beauty. The people of this region tend to be of a medium build. Their eyes vary from a muddy brown to a lusty burgundy (an oddity unique to the people of this region), while their hair maintains a subtle scarlet quality to it. An olive complexion, excellent quality of life and diet protects them from the stresses of the world. There is no capital on the Revosso Peninsula, but the centre of their faith is Oras Vedrid. Their culture is inspired by Renaissance Italy and Spain.
Sivar Velg: the roof of the world, a continent all on its lonesome, separated from Veldonn by the Sea of Musinir. It is the birthplace of necromancy, of vamphiirs, and the Order of Cinders, and also the location of the House of Fire. Sivar Velg was once the home of the giants, and following this, a proud nation of humans united under the Horned Bear. Such majesty is a far-cry from the desolation that it has now become. Though many attempts have been made to unite the tribes and peoples of this unforgiving place, all have been unsuccessful. The Sivarans are a warrior people: tall, proud, and strong, with muscular builds and hair of reds and golds and whites, pale skin and piercing blue and grey eyes. There is no capital in Sivar Velg, but the closest thing to it are the city of Roinnvar and the town of Balgath. Their culture is inspired by Viking Scandinavia.
Rules
Don’t be a dickhead. Simple.
If you’re going to be absent or no longer wish to participate, be honest. Tell me.
At least three posts a week please. I will try to post every day, depending on where the story is.
Communicate with me if you have an issue, whether with the story or in real life.
Be realistic, be dark, be gritty, dive into those characters and interact with the story. Don’t hesitate.
An active OOC is always appreciated. Throw ideas around, discuss the story, encourage, etc.
This is high casual, therefore, good grammar, spelling and paragraphing are a requirement.
If there are any questions or queries, feel free to ask!
Name: Locust Highland Appearance: Colour Image Locust is a 25 year old man of a lean build. His most notable feature is his left eye, which has been blinded and is completely white. His hair, which is almost kept covered by his hat, is short and brown, and is almost always kept unstyled. His armour detracts from the usual style of the order as he has chosen instead to wear his family's traditional garb, despite being disowned by them. This includes leather armour, stained dark purple with a matching cape and feathered cap along with similarly colored boots and white leggings. Biography: Locust's history starts a century or two back with his ancestors. They were Dumatians, tired of the abundance of religion within their kingdom who moved out from the city and created a settlement just outside of Maltheria. For years they grew the settlement and began training their offpsring to defend themselves. At some point, the settlement changed from a small farming village into a training camp for some of the best archers in the kingdom. It's hard to pinpoint when and who did it, but many point to Wasp Highland, the first to adopt the new naming scheme. Males of the Highland clan would be named after an insect, while females would be named normally. From that point on the Highland clan was expressly dedicated to archery.
By the time Locust was born they had become known throughout the lands among military advisers and generals for their skill in archery. They would often be hired for crucial battles and sieges, and have been present at some of the most historic battles in Arilyth. Locust was raised just like any of the Highland clan, going through rigorous mental and physical training until he was molded into a clone of his brothers. However, Locusts' path would take a different turn while on an assassination job at the young age of just 17. As he drew back the string of his bow he spotted something, darkness moving behind his target before a glimmer of light plunged itself into the man he was sent to kill. Obviously, if the assassination was done through any other method than arrow it wasn't a member of the Highland clan who had done it and, knowing the repercussions if he didn't get the murder weapon, Locust set on following the other assassin.
The chase took over half an hour, leaping over gaps between buildings, ducking under knives thrown his way and finally cornering his target in a dead-end alley. A struggle ensued in which the assassins mask fell off. It may sound cliche to say it was love at first sight, but it certainly stopped the fight. Over the next few months, Locust made an effort to track down the girl who had stolen his kill and, after a rocky start befriended and eventually made her fall in love with him. A few months later they had a secret marriage, but it was not to last. Males of the Highland clan could only marry with the patriarch's permission, and to someone he chose in most cases. Of course, Locust's little midnight escapes did not go unnoticed, and the marriage was discovered.
Locust found his wife's body filled with arrows the next day, before he was disowned and banished from the Highland clan at just 18. With little knowledge of the outside world and how to survive in it, he was bound to turn into some sort of mercenary or thief. However, that was when he met a now deceased member of the order in a pub. The member took Locust with him on a job to kill some zombies, before advising him to join the order. Locust did just that and has been a member ever since. Personality: An outside might describe Locust as serious and stoic. Those who know him better know this only to be half true. While his upbringing impaired him somewhat to social convention, Locust has adapted to the outside world and, while still often quiet and earnest, he has been known to make a joke here or there and even engage in 'banter' at times.
Biography: Ehnleth belonged to one of the many barbarian clans in Sivar Velg. Hers wasn't the most notorious by any means, but it's frequent raids pulled enough attention. Ehnleth herself was raised in this environment, a tribe of warriors ever flowing through the rough and bitter terrain, claiming settlements for their own or razing them down, while she was molded into a small but mighty warrior. At the tender age of twelve, she started her training, learning the ways of her brutal clan. At sixteen, she was allowed to join into the fray herself, gaining rapid experience in her vicious inherited occupation. Ehnleth began with small skirmishes, and graduated to larger raids with age, as she evolved from fledgling warrior to a full force of wrath. She enjoyed the heat of battle, the adrenaline like fire through her veins, warming her despite the surrounding snow. Her passion and bloodlust was unmatched and only grew stronger with time until, at the age of 19, her scarred and muscular body stood as a testament to her skill. When the Order came to her settlement, Ehnleth's perspective changed. They swept through her village, hunting for something of which she was unaware, while she stared in awe at their swiftness and tenacity. She felt...admiration. Some of her clan watched, careful to stay out of the way of the notorious Order of Cinders. Others were threatened by this, and fought back against the raid, their barbaric cries resounding within the thick wooden walls of the settlement as they were taken down with fire. In a matter of minutes, the hunt was over, and the prey was found. On a whim, Ehnleth approached a hunter and demanded to be taken along, eager to join this worthy and noble group. Years had passed, and Ehnleth remained vigilant in her pursuit for a good fight, though her purposes changed. The Order of Cinders straightened her out to the ways of justice, the honorable fight against the wicked who existed in the cracks of the surrounding world. Though the barbarian within remains.
Personality: The being that Ehnleth becomes in battle can't be ignored, and is quite obvious. Nothing short of a beast of war, and twice as deadly. But outside of the hunt, one would find a much more relaxed woman. She is hearty and confident, easily identified as the loudest laugh in any room. She enjoys a good drink, rowdy company, and exchanging stories over her scars and the weathered marks of her peers. If the story turns into a competition, she'll be the first to start it, and gladly be the one to end it as well. As quickly as she will crack a joke, she can turn a storm. Her temper is as wicked and sharp as her axe. Music is a passion for Ehnleth, as it is known that she will wear out any bard in her midst, eager for another song, the next limerick, just one more tune.
Placeholder post for my app, will likely type it up within the next couple days.
Name: Balthier Oisin
Balthier in his black coat and usual attire while travelling and performing, unarmed. Appearance: 32, Balthier inherited the Baruvadi looks of his mother over the Lorintine looks of his father. Dark brown hair, pale complexion (though now tanned from time spent travelling in the sun), an slim features. He's built more like a runner than a body-builder, and his voice is eloquent and clear. He keeps himself shaved and features no visible scars, though he does carry several on his back chest, and legs.
He likes to dress fashionably in classic Baruvadi style, with hints of Paeric and Revossan styles as well. Though that's part of the deception, he's had the clothing tailor made to hide the chain mail and leather beneath it.
When travelling, he often carries his lute and rucksack openly, with a sabre and a Paeric-model Rifle stashed within, and nearly a dozen throwing daggers up his sleeves and in the lining of his coat.
Biography: Born in the vassal state of Baruvad in 799, Balthier was born a bastard of a Baruvadi prostitute and a Lorintine Knight-Priest in the city of Dounby. His father denying Balthier as his son and threatening his mother with death if she ever brought a case before a Lorintine Magistrate, Balthier was mostly raised among Baruvadi and never really experienced or learned much of his Lorintine heritage other than trouble with the Lorintine occupiers from time to time.
In his short time in Dounby he lived as a pick-pocket, a thief, and eventually a street performer when he became old enough and competent to play instrument and learn music in the Baruvadi tradition. He dreamed of becoming a Bard and leaving his city to see the world and earn enough money for him and his mother to get away from the oppressive state of Lorinth.
Unfortunately, his dreams did not pan out into reality due to circumstances beyond his control. In 809, Dounby suffered an outbreak of the Undead. A necromantic cult in striving to awaken a vamphiir they thought rested within a certain crypt within the city, merely succeeded in awakening a small army of Undead, beasts and humans alike that been buried in the city's largest cemetery. Content just as well with their success at bringing forth such a large host, the Necromancers unleashed the Undead upon Dounby, causing chaos and turmoil within the city as many were murdered in their beds or on the streets before the city bells could even start sounding an alarm. The Lorintine garrison was taken almost completely by surprise, and eventually the city commander evacuated what knights and all Lornith officials he could to the city's inner keep, leaving the Baruvadi and anyone else left outside to defend themselves in the city proper while they tried to hold out in a besieged keep and await aid.
A week of murder, plunder, resistance, and terror ensued as the Baruvadi and everyone else left outside in the city fled, hid, or fought for their lives against an ever-expanding horde of Undead, with the Necromancers raising more by the hour. Balthier had fled from alley to alley, ruined building to building in search of his mother whom he hoped had escaped, but never managed to find in the stricken city. On the 8th day, the renowned Order of Cinders came in force just ahead of Lorintine reinforcments with a whole company of Hunters and several of their Pyromancers to cleanse the city. Facing magicians even more powerful than they, and fearing for their lives, the Necromancers rallied the Undead into a massive assault against the combined attackers, and the two forces clashed near the city gates. The Hunters and prepared Knights cut a swathe through the Undead with the more skilled Pyromancers wielding the very flames from the burning buildings of the city into streams of fire, fusing them with the red and black-specked Ebonfire which was a signature of the Order, that turned whole packs of Undead into ash. With a couple hours, the Necromancers had been killed and the undead stragglers being hunted down and burned on large pyres.
Disgusted by the Lorintine garrison's apathy for the local Baruvadi population, some Hunters of the Order stuck around to assist in some basic rebuilding and reorganizing efforts. Though in truth they were also on the look out for potential new recruits. Such disasters as these always yielded fresh candidates for The Order in the form of orphans, drifters, or displaced and disgruntled soldiers. Balthier, having found no trace of his mother and presuming her to be dead somewhere, and seeing no future in Dounby for him, took the initiative to make himself noticed by one of the leather coat-clad Hunters, whom promptly recommended the boy to their Hunter-Captain and added Balthier's name to the growing roster of a couple dozen new recruits the ravaged city of Dounby was bringing up.
He underwent training alongside his fellow recruits in the House of Fire, and was officially granted the rank of Hunter in 814, earning the right to wear the black coat and brass pin. Upon which he took his choice of the armoury and set upon the path, travelling the world in search of Undead to kill as was his mission. Though he had become a Hunter, he still managed to partially fulfill his dream of becoming a Bard in that he still learned to play the Lute and practice his singing voice for reciting ballads. He had graced the recruits at the House of Fire with some performances at times, though most of these he performed on the road, in towns where his business as a Hunter was not necessarily his foremost concern. His fame as a Bardic Hunter grew as a result in many nations.
That's not to say he hasn't relished his office, or taking his vow. He has loved hunting for the Undead in all of their varieties ever since the nightmare at Dounby, and he wished as much as any other Order member to see the Undead and all practitioners of necromancy wiped clean from the world.
Thus, he's walked the road ever since, and has visited just about every nation in the world at least once, picking up the odd souvenir and memories along the way as he performs his job. Though his favourite places have been Paerium and Revosso, the former of which he was just finishing doing a job in before getting the summons to head to Isamanca.
Personality: Balthier is a jovial person. His bawdy sense of humour, sharp wit, and silver tongue are enough to woo people over to him, or at least steal the attention of a room. A fan of deception and intrigue, he prefers less overt approaches to accomplish his goals, liking to look at the long game rather than the short one. He's got a soft spot for the downtrodden in many societies, and a prejudice against Lorintine from their historical treatment of him, his people, and his mother.
Guys, please do not hesitate to start discussing relations between your characters. As the character tab starts filling up, read over their profiles. It shouldn't take too long. If something sticks out - reach out, get something going. Are you a part of a group of Hunters/Huntresses? Were you raised together? Trained together? Are you rivals? I am happy to facilitate and make recommendations if that will help you guys, but as you guys will be in this together, I strongly encourage you all to take the time to flesh these details out. The effort will make it all the more worthwhile.
"Those who think our methods are too extreme have never seen a horde of their dead relatives."
Appearance: Xho is a 26 year old, dark skinned, slender man. His whole body appears to be lacking any fat but is neither a bulk of muscles. He is athletic in appearance and about average in height. His long dark hair is bound to a single long braid, decorated with feathers, rocks and pearls. His clothing is mostly light leather armor of the order, again decorated with the traditional rocks and pearls of his home. His right arm has a red tattoo of a serpent spiraling from Xho's shoulder down to his hand. Biography: Xho was already born into the world a cursed child. His father was a noble of the empire, his mother one of his slaves. And out of one fateful night the young boy was born, unfit to grow up as a noble, but still with noble blood. So young Xho was given away to the temple of the snake goddess. The priests treated him relatively well, him and all the other children no one wanted, bastards and so on. Here he was also trained. Realizing what talent the young boy had he was shipped away again into the deep jungle to become a bladedancer for the goddess. Bladedancer use a strange weapon called the Sāpa,a sort of cross between a whip and a sword. In the jungle Xho was trained every day in the use of the exotic weapon and in general combat. He got bruises, he got scars, he even lost parts of a few fingers but he got stronger and better. But everything changed when he got 17. He still remembered everything. All dead bladedancers were buried in the yard of the temple that trained them. That was the tradition. And they all were formidable warriors. While most undead don't keep the skills they had in their lifetime, the bladedancers that were reanimated by a necromancer through some foul magic somehow did. And they slaughtered the temple to get even more bodies. The only reason Xho survived was because he ran. He saw the hordes of bones, weapons and rotting flesh and ran as fast as he could. It was after he ran three days straight, nearly dying from thirst and exhaustion that a group from the order of Cinders found him. after they explained the were hunting the necromancers, Xho immediately fell on his knees and declared he would join them. Hearing that he already had the fighting training and the motivation, Xho was send for further training to the house of fire. It has been about 10 years that Xho was with the order and he has become a respected member. Even though some of the other members sometimes wonder and laugh at his exotic weapon and looks the have learned not to underestimate him when he does his deadly dance, shredding limbs and cutting bones...
Personality: The years in the Order and the countless near death experiences have changed Xho. He got that sense of dark humor and cynicism that only a member of the order could have who faces death every day. However he also has a fire of rage against undead burning inside him, still feeling guilty that he ran away like a child on that faithful day.
Welcome to the Order of Cinders, Xho Sulune. Feel free to post your CS in the character tab.
Also, guys, I would greatly appreciate if you could space Appearance/Biography/Personality so that they are their own paragraphs, and bold the headings so that it looks cleaner and is easier to read. @Mr_pink
Also, once you guys have your CS' accepted and posted, I'll be overhauling the main OOC post. I'm not entirely happy with it, but I will of course get the IC rolling before this starts. :)
Appearance: A grim man twenty six years of age, his naturally pale skin, heterochromatic eyes of light grey and murky green respectively, and reddish brown hair indicate an uncertain heritage. Standing a few inches below six feet, Denric is lean and toned possessing adequate attributes across the board. He has high cheekbones and prominent collarbones, his chin tapered. His nose is prominent but not obtrusive, while his eyes seem to be set the proper distance apart from each other. Denric’s lips rest neatly between his nose and chin, curving downwards slightly. Indeed, one wouldn’t call him unattractive.
Biography: Dropped off at the doorstep of the House of Fire as an infant, Denric’s life was chosen for him before he was even aware of what choice was. The then current Keeper of Flames, Oszrial, saw great power and untapped potential in the babe, taking the small one under his wing. Under the tutelage of the Keeper, Denric learned the secrets of ebon pyromancy, a deadly form of magic used to combat the undead, and how to bend it to his will.
Oszrial watched as his apprentice grew in strength and skill, even as he shunned spending any amount of free time he had in preference of furthering his abilities still. That singular, focused dedication to the Order was exactly what the Keeper was waiting to see. Oszrial was a practitioner of blood magic, and Denric would follow in his footsteps. He taught Denric that while it was often used for great evil, that same power could be utilized to undo such villainy. Along with the practical applications of being able to immensely increase a maegi’s power and versatility on the field of battle, Oszrial believed that it had more secrets yet to be unlocked. The same magic that brought the dead to life could also be their undoing. A sort of nullification effect, that would dispel the magics surrounding the undead. This is what Oszrial sought, and what Denric was to help him find.
But it wasn’t to be. Years passed, and while Denric became more proficient in blood magic, the two never found the treasure they were searching for. They never had the chance. It didn’t matter what it was. A misplaced piece of parchment, a pair of ears, present but unseen, or perhaps it was simply bad luck. Indeed, it mattered not. Oszrial was caught, and the sandrir rune above his left hip all but confirmed the Order’s suspicions. The Keeper of Flames was summarily removed from his position and executed shortly after. Denric too was investigated, yet they found no rune and no documents incriminating him. Very fortunate indeed.
Shortly after this incident had come to pass, Denric was appointed as Hunter and let loose into the world. He quickly gained a reputation as a powerful and skilled maegi, doing whatever it took to complete his hunts. This has earned Denric a deal of credibility within the Order, but a strong feeling of distrust from many civilians.
Personality: Those that know Denric know him as one who will do anything to stop the undead, compassion be damned. He isn’t one to let things get under his skin, as people are welcome to their opinions. They don’t change fact. Though preferring to show little emotion, he is not soulless. Anger, regret, joy, Denric feels just as any other. His status as a blood mage also encourages him to keep people at arm's length most of the time, lest he end up like Master Oszrial.
Appearance: At the age of 33, Lethodus stands a little over 6' 2'' in height with moderate bulk of muscle. His mess of near jet black hair and beard are peppered with a slight glimmer of silver and gray. His sky blue eyes stand out against the tan skin of his face. A scar runs acorss is right cheek.
Biography:Once a member of the Knights Order of Lorinth, he has since rejected all of his once proud faith, even going as far to renounce his own last name severing all ties to his home. He stood once proud to be part of the Knights Order but seeing the bitter truth that lie within its own rank, the corruption that was cast aside with a blind eye, he could not be part of such treachery. The Order was suppose to stand for protecting the people and upholding justice yet some saw them above it. He turned against his comrades serving his own justice. Eventually he had to flee his home for it did not matter how many he punished the corruption remained in the ranks. He became a wandering sellsword, his hammer for hire for any that could pay and if the cause was just.
Him joining the Order of Cinders was merely by chance. He had been traveling for quite some time stumbling upon another village yet entering it, the smell of death was everywhere and scent of dark magic all around. Wandering the village he eventually was ambushed by the accursed undead. His hammer served him well but eventually it broke from one of the undead attacks causing him to stumbling back. In that moment he was about to greet death but it never came. Looking up he saw his savior. A member of the elusive Order of Cinders. They drove back the vile creatures, killing all. Lethodus could only watch in awe at the men and women who fought the evil.
Before the Order left, Lethodus decided to pledge himself to them, an Order that served to seek justice and purge such a great evil from the lands. An Order that seemed to be without corruption. This to him was a second chance to do what he wanted. To protect the people of the lands and fight against evil.
Personality: He is a man who sees things in black and white. While over time he has learned there are gray areas he still much prefers the simplicity that white and black gives. He tries to be an agreeable person for the most part with his fellow hunters but he isn't afraid to express his opinion. He prides himself for his sense of honor, though this can be problematic especially if forced into heading into Lorinth for him. He enjoys a good joke and sharing tales of his time of wandering the lands.
He seems to but heads with Balthier from time to time (@TemplarKnight07 I hope that is all right with you. Just a thought of them having some tension between each other due to Lethodus being once a knight of the Order in Lorinth)
Okay gonna try to get some character relation stuff going with everyone. Bare bones, at least.
@Argetlam350 Lethodus may have dislike for Denric, as he seems to be on the side of the spectrum that doesn't believe that the means always justify the ends, while Denric is not.
@The Narrator Xho and Denric may have mutual respect or even something of a kinship, considering their skill and drive to slay undead. They could have participated in hunts together in the past.
@TemplarKnight07 It doesn't seem like our characters would have had much interaction, aside from knowing of each other.
@Kaiachi Denric is generally pretty absorbed in his own work, though he might've taken notice of Ehnleth's fury in battle. She might have been on hunts with both Denric and Xho.
@Mr_pink I feel like I'm starting to repeat myself at this point, but here goes. Locust may dislike or respect Denric depending on how your character views the actions of mine. Again, might've gone on hunts with Denric + whoever else agrees to this possibility.
If anyone agrees, disagrees, or has something to add, just mention me.
