[We are a group currently looking for more people to roleplay in a multiverse/nation setting. How you enter is entirely up to you as we are open to pretty much anything. Introduction posts will be made relatively soon as we plan to get posts going as soon as possible.] (Next Week perhaps or even earlier!)
There are those who long to be the draft that animates the windmill and those who are content with merely being the mill’s blades. “No Gods Sky” is an open multiverse roleplay centered around the cultures of planets Cizra Su-Lahn, Kilamara, and Ganaxavori. Those who choose to enter as foreigners will find themselves inconveniently immersed in the chaotic affairs already internally present amongst these powerful forces. What side will you align yourself to if you chose any side at all? Will you abide by the inequities of society or aspire to change it? On your journey, you may find allies who want peace and others who demand war. It is up to you to choose your own path.
Throughout the vastness of the cosmos, in intelligent minds, lurks a tao of dread and desire that life on other worlds strives against its own unlikelihood with familiar tenacity and diversity of form. On most, it fails, for nature’s demands on evolution are harsh and unpredictable. Yet, on a few, life prevails, flourishes into civilization, and contributes to the timeless poem of creation its own transcendent verse. Species emerge from sea, earth, fire, or sky; worship nature, ancestral bones, or the intestate and unthinkable expanse of light-pricked night; then foment war and inevitably devour another in the frantic climb to the acme of ambition. Occasionally, this chaos yields culture, but even then life is a volatile affair relentlessly hammered into shape and structure. The shapes it takes are innumerable, many weak while only a handful are strong. Amongst all these, there must exist an expression that is the ideal sum of its many facets.
Somewhere there must exist the perfect form and a divine animal that embodies it.
The Cizran are not that animal. Rather, they are the chaos that peers inward and glimpses its true nature. Their path was steeped in both violence and worship, inciting wars of a scale beyond imagining, extinguishing and enslaving world after world in their mad search, and with reverence recalling their ancient forerunners that glimpsed a kernel of truth as they donned the skins of beasts and wielded implements of claw and stone. In time, Cizran flesh became a holy book: scripture waiting to be written in the blood of the divine animal.
They have attained much. Across the many systems of their empire, rare is it that two Cizran who meet share the same physiology. Few even remotely reflect the form that was forged on their homeworld. They elected new bodies, even degraded them for the sake of gaudy fashion as a portal through which to flaunt their wealth and power. Few remember the quest that sent them into the far reaches of space. Fewer recognize that, one day, the excess must be shorn if they are to adorn that sacred form.
The path was abandoned on the frontier world of Ganaxavori. The planetary governor, Ec-Shavar, ceased his outward search for the divine and begun to peer inward. In the subsequent chaos that warped the mirror of his spirit, he saw himself, a truer image of perfection than any among the myriad caste-slave species. Indeed, only a meager portion of his power was necessary to pluck Ganaxavori from the empire’s tenuous hold at its outer rim of their empire and cow the minds of his underlings to adulation of him as their sole prophet-god.
Castes
No Cizran can mistake another for any of the lower-caste species that teem like insects across the worlds of their dominion. Their communion is tether and chain, for they feel instinctively the pain and fear of their brothers and sisters. That is their common provenance: the potential failure of their search and the obsession that they must avoid the cruel end of disgrace and inferiority that awaits all who fail on the road to godhood.
Beyond mere subjugation, the caste system is enforced through a complicated bureaucracy and legal milieu. Each caste has their own courts. Even more courts abound for inter-caste affairs. These dictate the laws and limitations at every level of society. For example, with the exceptions of brute force roles in military and law enforcement, only members of the highest caste may serve in a branch of government or own land or property outside the designated housing districts in the main city of Samarra.
Although there are a handful of curious outliers, society is generally structured as follows:
Magic on Cizra Su-Lahn is commonly performed by forming a contract with a god or spirit. When a contract is formed, the god or spirit begins to drain the practitioner’s life force; more powerful spells drain life force even more, to the point where some may be lethal. As such, it isn’t unusual for highest priests to never cast a spell during their lives. This allows them to maintain effective immortality through technology, accrue vast amounts of knowledge, and create a system where they can manipulate others into doing their bidding and carrying out large projects that rely on magic. Death isn’t necessarily the outcome of such a contract; for example, the god of war might only permit its devouts to perish in a war but, until that point, increasingly add to their pain and suffering such that they would seek out a glorious death on the field of battle.
Although technology has developed slower than on planets that aren’t magically-inclined, age and momentum has brought Cizran culture to a point where its inhabitants enjoy effective immortality, near-perfect health, and great amounts of leisure. Over time, technology has steadily replaced magic, due to the lack of consequences from contracting with gods. As such, lesser spirits have fallen out of memory. Cizrans have spaceships that are the size of a colony, can terraform planets, and harness almost all the energy of their local star.
In a technological advanced and scientifically knowledgeable culture, gods, religion, philosophy, and so on tend to exist to explain what can't be explained or can't be accepted; more like the Fates, Muses, and Forces of nature that they recognize and try to deal with by deifying.
General Arena Rules Apply. Here's our interpretation of them in the form of commandments.
God Moding
Thou shalt not play another person's character, or the derivatives and functions relating to that character, unless given permission by the player. If the player is unavailable, proceed in the knowledge that what you write must be withdrawn at the player's request if they deem it unacceptable.
Power Gaming
Thou shalt not perform any feat necessitating attributes strictly limited to God unless a quorum of players permits it for reasons relating to the plot of the story. Essentially, if it isn't strictly yours to control, don't touch it.
Meta Gaming
Thou shalt not use knowledge you, but your character does not, possess (also called OOC knowledge) unless it is agreed upon by all parties affected for reasons relating to the plot of the story.
-Mature concepts and themes
-Combat Scenarios
-Anywhere from Low to High Tier Power Scaling is allowed but just know we’re pretty tough ourselves and can keep the roleplay in order if things get out of hand.(Aka do what you please but expect IC resistance)
-Opportunities to engage with several different species and beings.
-Use of cromulent grammar.
-There are no rules to word count; however, you might find it difficult to cover the content of what’s going on with merely a paragraph or two.
-Write interactive posts that build storylines and involve other players.
-The ability to develop characters in a ever changing setting.
-Adhere to general rules of logic when managing and controlling powers.
-Respect other players OOCly. In character you may act how you see fit to push the story.
-Post in a somewhat timely manner (This is the MOST important rule) We prefer at least a post within 72 hours of it being your turn. This does NOT mean you have to make a post every 3 days. You may find times where you can possibly have an entire week to post based on the speed of others. If you cannot make a post within a timely manner we are most flexible and understanding. The key is communicating beforehand.
Joining
Any sort of character (or potentially group) can be present within the setting due to this being a Multiverse Rp. As long as there are sufficient explanations to why or how a character or group arrived in said locations . You can even create a character native to the several settings we listed. In order to join we recommend a submission of a character sheet of your preferred style posted OOC. That would include basic info and maybe your potential role in the thread. (This can be discussed in private on request) From there we can discuss the best possible way to get you right into the action. If you have any questions regarding the lore or about content ask away. Questions will be answered within a timely manner so as many posts can be pushed out as possible. (We are extremely open to a potential already existing group entering/invading the roleplay. Just give us your pitch)
Bathed in weird orange glow of the star, Bukan, is the birthworld of the Cizran Empire, Cizra Su-lahn. There, on either side of the river Sirnak, sprawls the seat its galactic government, the city of Samarra.
Cizra Su-Lahns is about fifteen percent larger than prototypical Earth and, as such, blessed with more natural resources. Venturing around the globe, it is clear the planet is one of extremes; some areas exhibiting otherworldly coldness and others unbearable heat. Mountains that penetrate the mesosphere are common and the numerous scars in its crust fall to inexplicable depths. Storms on this Cizra Su-lahn are severe and its abnormal weather patterns often perplex visitors. Still, despite the harshness of the weather the majority of establishments are built with this in mind and through the combination of magically-enforced elements and archaeological excellence; as such, these structures survive events of even cataclysmic proportions.
Cizra Su-lahn’s one and only maximum security penitentiary structure, Gereza is a place containing much of the darkest history of the entire planet’s existence. It stands as a lone several hundred meter beige pillar, shrouded within the raging simulated sandstorms that discourage entrance and even finding the location itself. There is one entrance, one exit. Once entering the doors you are transported into a realm unknown to most and forced to abide by the rules of its dimension.
Most cells beyond level 3 are portals to a separate pocket dimension meant to simulate different levels of hell administered to the detainee dependent on the crime.
Rules of Order: It is impossible to leave the dimension unless you travel through the one known door of entrance and exit. Those who have tried to generate riffs in space and travel through find themselves later trapped within a void in which they lose every single one of their senses and drift for an absolute eternity without even being able to comprehend it. The same thing happens to those who attempt to teleport in. It is safe to say that once you’re in, your chances of getting out unjustly are next to none.
Alcazar, a country of endless astroblemes bearing enormous rifts in all direction as far as the eye can see. Within this once apocalyptic wasteland where remnants of a world once populated by old but now the new. The current inhabitants have successfully made use of the augmented landscape building amazing feats of architecture within the turning wave like formations and canyons alike. Powerful sandstorms, though a norm through architectural excellence render the storms as overhead spectacles of entertainment enjoyed during times of worship. This settlement is notably the most closest life-housing establishment to Gereza. Still by all accounts however was it just as difficult to find the penitentiary due to the conditions of the environment around it.
In Alcazar there is a thriving trade culture. One where often items of great importance are smuggled through. The black market is ever present here but that of course is secretly regulated by the government as well. It was safe to say that there was almost nothing that the government of Cizra Su-Lahn wasn’t aware of. The benefits outweigh the cons when dealing with a market of that size. It made Alcazar quite the attraction but the strict laws that govern discouraged novices of the black market to steer clear. No one wants to end up in Gereza.
The space temple has alcoves that can read somebody’s mind and virtually link them to that location, often far-flung spiritual sites or places from which they have been banished. It serves the purpose as a neutral territory where any sojourner might take sanctuary and feel the presence of their fellow believers as they virtually stride the grounds of their elected shrine with neither the labor nor consequence of a physical manifestation. This is done by linking their mind via a psylink powered by divine force. They may observe anything so long as it lies within the temple’s magical walls.
Tsathoskr’s holy abode concealed no corner suitable for quiet contemplation. Instead, it was simultaneously awful and exquisite. From its interior dome and bowed walls luminiferous flora assaulted the visual and olfactory senses with the story of creation, neither wholesome nor pleasant, but possessed of vivacious honesty and bewitching brutality. Each scene punctured the mind with its loud awakening and to refuse intimacy brought a mad cacophony of thorough debauch. Nature awaited no consent to mold life and, later, consciousness. Rather, time and the elements lustily collided and birthed from their orgies all that would ever be. Scenes of ravenous rape and devour flushed in wild juxtaposition to raw canvasses of stark birth; creatures fed their offspring the young of other species; storms surged, volcanoes erupted, and supernovae shown. Notably, not a single depiction of conventional romance presented itself in the decor. The place was one of singular purpose. It served as a reminder of all that wrought civilization, indifferent to modern contrivances. Life, mollified neither by elaboration nor banality, was thrust upon those who dared enter.
Such a scene splayed across one of numerous panels boasted millions of colorful carnivorous plants that writhed a presentation, with lifelike clarity, of two bears rutting. It emitted all the noises one might conceive: wind teasing the meadow grass, distant birds chirping, and each grunt, snarl, and howl of bestial union. With this colluded the musk of their mating, the dew on the verdance, and a vague essence of pine colluded and lanced directly into the viewer’s sensory cortex.
Just one of a thousand depictions.
Worship of such a deity requires to embrace with fecundity one’s base urges.
The young, backwater world of Kilamara was born with just one, massive super-continent appearing from space as a colossal stretch of green rainforests, valleys, and deep river trenches, and a single stretch of desert that serves as a borderland. Though belonging to the same race of humanoid insects, the male Kilamaros inhabit the western portion of the continent, while the female Kilamari reside on the eastern side, training vigorously in the art of war--preparing themselves for the day on which they will both prove their genetic worth to one another, share in each other’s mutual equality, and become referred to as Kilamarans.
Until that day comes, Kilamaros and Kilamari are not allowed in each other’s tribal lands, only granted permission to visit once wedded, and evidenced by the red stones they wear as necklaces.
In appearance the Kilamarans are eight feet tall, their skin is a mixture of ruddy orange and sandy brown that allows them to blend in well with both the rainforests and desert. Their heads are somewhat squid-shaped, with black, ovular eyes set nearly on the sides, their mouths are horizontal insect mandibles, and their arms feature short retractable as well as regrowable spikes that curve upwards along the humerus and downward along the forearms, possessing a second pair of vestigial limbs near their hips. The nails on their fingers split in two small extensions which aid in a variety of tasks from gripping, piercing, and tearing into the objects of their desire.
The desert serves as one of many hunting grounds for the Kilamarans, in addition to a place for neutral exchange of goods, a fair zone to train and engage in different fighting styles, and most importantly, a means of circumventing the visitation laws that their homelands impose. Due to the looser laws, rampant behavior amongst children is freely allowed, teenagers engage in recreational sport free of overbearing parental guide, provides free reign for adults to enjoy polyamorous relationships.
Scattered across the desert are vast swaths of towering red crystals, protruding hundreds of feet out of the sand, jagged to the touch, and are the topic of interest for some Kilamaran miners who make their living off selling Fire Stones. The technique they use involves scaling a rock, wrapping their arms around protruding spires and jamming their forearm-spike into the surface, at which point they wrench violently with all their might until the rock cracks and tumbles back down to the ground, shattering into smaller chunks along the way. They then climb back down, collect the minerals and distribute them throughout the hubs, whereupon the life’s journey finally begins.
The quintessential opposite of Kilamara--the moon’s purpose and the function for Kilamarans is highly specialized--overcoming fear and terror within themselves, and becoming worthy of their patron God of War, Aredemos: Warrior’s Redemption.
Countless eons ago, the Kilamaran sun lashed out against the solar system--Deimobos its only target--the ramifications of the coronal mass ejection would yield far greater consequences for the planet it orbited. Thousands of active volcanoes underwent a violent series of devastating eruptions visible in the night-sky as millions of coruscating crimson meteors set on a collision course for the world. During this time, the droning intelligence which guided the young, fledgling insects throughout the jungle would not be enough to prevent from the reckoning of spiritual sentience; nor would it be enough to stop the galvanizing rampage that was about to ensue across their neurons, expanding their awareness as waves of fire raced across the desert with varying degrees of heat, crystallizing some regions while leaving others as scorched sand.
From wandering across the jungle on six legs to transforming into bipedal humanoids, the transition from hivemind society to hunter gatherer, and then onto a tribal communion defined by gender separation was an always arduous task with no shortage of differing agendas. Leaders hidden in the trees dictated a rigid spiritual belief system based conflict: conquer and consume each other’s resources in a fight to declare dominance. In the desert an anarchistic ideology spread throughout the minds of those less interested--and moreover tired of the constant bloodshed amongst their various tribes, flourishing in a matter of months, forming the foundations that would lead to the construction of many villages scattered across the sands. For these Kilamarans, the desert was, and still is a haven for those who prefer a life of cooperation, pacifism, and mutual gain through trust and respect.
This did not stop the jungle-dwellers from entering the lands unwelcomed, accompanied by small warbands seeking to retrieve the sons and daughters who had fled the violence, claiming they had a responsibility to protect their members from possible invasions from enemy tribes.Those who resisted were brought back by force, killed, or enslaved as a way of displaying what happened to those who betrayed their roots.
Feeling trapped between two bloodthirsty sects of Kilamari and Kilamaros, it wasn’t long before the desert-dwellers began to discuss whether or not they should relinquish their belief in pacifism and reclaim their freedom by force, or simply hope to be one day left alone. Debates sparked over which was more important: war or peace? Loyalty to their tribes, or loyalty to their individuality, selflessness or selfishness.
The answer was brought forward by a pair of Kilamarans who had been married for quite some time, their physical and mental compatibility with each other utterly and everlastingly apparent. Together, they had reached the conclusion that if not for the Fire Stones they wore as necklaces… if not for their impact on Kilamara so many years ago, this sentience of theirs would not exist--the simple, yet powerful emotions they felt would have never been born--so they theorized that the answers to their problems must have come from the moon, Deimobos. All Kilamarans remembered the eruption that happened amongst the stars, remembered the destructive impact the meteors had on their lands, the sudden neural impact it had on their minds, thrusting them into this state of internal strife.
Convinced that their only lead was the Fire Stones, they reasoned that the largest one would yield the most abundant quantity of the mysterious essence that had mutated their minds, and thus - yield the most answers as well. Agreeing on this plan of action, the couple spread their idea to others, gathered a small band together and ordered the rest of their loyal compatriots to go back into the jungle and inform the leaders of their discovery. While the others returned to land of green, the couple and their band embarked into the desert wastes, knowing the scorched lands would hold the grandest of these strange rocks.
Days passed like weeks, but their food did not run out because they knew how to hunt the giant avians, who hunted the giant snakes, who hunted the trapdoor spiders as they nomadically skittered through the wastes, creating new burrows in an effort to trap the worms who fed on a diet of rich minerals, which also happened to produce the purest meat they could ever imagine and this was how they sustained themselves. It would also serve as their first clue: find more worms, find more of the stones. By simply observing the red mineral to be a part of the worms diet and knowing that no other creature outweighed the worm, this meant that in order to keep itself healthy, it had to travel to locations where the stones were in excess quantities.
Following the feather trails which the Kilamarans used as shade from the sun, massive nests were found, built from snake skeletons. Simple rope traps and spears were enough to ensure their capture as well as avoiding becoming dinner themselves. Allowing only the strongest of the flock get away, they implanted a mindset of desperation in the birds who would hasten the effort repopulate, resulting in less downtime when it came to discovering the serpents. This created a chain reaction, for the birds huddled the snakes together, who were naturally located near the trapdoors, waiting for a spider to emerge, which in-turn led to the Kilamarans setting the burrows on fire, both for the purpose of eradicating any spiders, but knowing that once the worm corpses were incinerated, all that would be left was shining, undigested Fire Stones, and that meant the most massive of them were not too far off.
Armed with their final clue, the search party tripled their efforts to find the origin of their spiritual genesis. Venturing into the deepest, most remote regions of the desert, the Kilamarans felt the soft, grainy sand gradually become rough and jagged beneath their feets, saw the gold landscape shift to ruddy red, and mourned over the loss of those who had given their last breath in their quest for enlightenment, the last of which served only to bolster their resolve.
The journey wound up taking a total three months, but for those who did survive, the destination had proven well-worth the hardship and toil. Before them stood a network of towering crimson crystal-spires, all of which sprouted from an otherwise flat surface both feeling and resembling perfectly smooth glass. Venturing deeper forest, the band found the proximity of spires shrinking against their skin, until they were forced to walk single file down a pristine path, the coloration of red light growing more and more saturated with each footstep, scintillating as they traveled toward the center.
Eventually the color and light became too much for the Kilamarans to bare, the forest vibrating and resonating with their desperate desire to escape the mayhem wrought by their former families. Soon, the crystals rose in temperature, the ground shifting to a softer state that made it harder to walk, the ceilings dripping with molten rock which swiftly navigated their way around the flesh and accumulated at the stones around their necks. Within minutes, the rock began to harden and expand over their bodies, triggering a physical metamorphosis as the ceiling collapsed and the band became enveloped in magma, struggling with all their might to make it back to the surface.
Emerging from the magma, the Kilamarans were greeted by the sight of chaos: fire and ash rained down dark-red sky, lightning struck the earth all around them. Their brains went into overdrive as the once vestigial limbs they possessed near their waists became active again, giving them a centaurian stance, their smooth-skinned upper-bodies sitting firmly atop their heavy, exoskeletal bottom halves which extended several feet behind them, lava flowing between the plates. Upon their elliptical heads were many upward-facing horns, sprouting from the sides, the firestones divided in two between their foreheads and sternums, embedded deep within their epidermis and glowing faintly underneath.
Feeling at peace for the first time, the band quickly came to the conclusion that the lava in conjunction with the Fire Stones had transformed them, allowing them to not only return to their original insectoid roots, but had merged their humanoid forms together into one complete being. With their advanced spiritual senses, the Kilamarans could see far out into their own solar system and beyond, able to detect other lifeforms scattered across the galaxy, realizing that they too might be experiencing a similar crisis among their own people. Knowing they still had to solve the problems facing their homeworld, the husband of the couple who had led them to this world beckoned them to return and take back their freedom by any and all means necessary while he went off to explore and discover these new worlds.
“I am Aredemos: the Redeemed Warrior. Tell our story to all, invite them to experience it for themselves, allow them to overcome Deimobos and conquer and fear and terror that plagues their souls.”
His message delivered, Aredemos instinctively channeled the element of fire into his abdomen, expelling it from his very limbs and propelled himself from Deimobos, eagerly awaiting the new people he would encounter, and all too certain of the conflicts he was sure to become involved in.
Years later, the Kilamarans constructed a temple dedicated to Aredemos’ memory. The entrance to the temple is located just below the summit of the tallest volcano, visible as a large aperture flanked by smaller outcroppings that serve to allow lava from the volcano’s rim to flow around it. The temple interior is composed of smooth, flat floors and walls bearing a fiery bronze sheen that is clear enough to make one’s reflection visible against the surface, and are flanked on both sides by two lava canals which flow down into two massive molten rivers. To get there, one must first ascend the mountain and bare the crushing, burning lavafalls, allowing themselves to transform into true warriors who will spread the message of freedom back down to Kilamara and to all those would find themselves oppressed by their heritage and traditions.
The country of Sangeries could very well exist potentially anywhere within the universe. The dimension often projected itself as an extension of the sea with a island housing a enormous labyrinth of a Victorian Castle. When at sea it is fabled that if you sailed away from the maidens call you’d journey an endless path to starvation. Suddenly the Sea would have no end. Any other destination would be denied. From then on out you could only go to the fabled island of Sangeries...
On the island housed a seemingly infinite number of sirens. It rests up top a small mountain range and towers over anything else on the island. Its location depended entirely on the position of the “Link.” As long as a link was present Sangeries could exist in any location.Links could be a person as its seen most commonly or even an object. Established between a soul via spiritual contract or possession, that alone allows Noire to manifest a creation point for her dimension. Currently there are no known links on Sangeries thus, making this location improbable to reach.
All of the captured souls of Noire reside in Sangeries. Whether they are seen or not depends entirely on Noire or a Link on the more powerful side. The presence of the souls could be felt at all times though it was no clear indication on how to interact with them while within the realm. With the abundance of souls came a ridiculous amount of power. A power that was certainly abused and often created anomalies of absurd proportions. Anyone whose soul was extracted within this realm could be brought back to existence on a whim. Whether is to receive once lost information or torment others it didn’t matter.
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION
There are those who long to be the draft that animates the windmill and those who are content with merely being the mill’s blades. “No Gods Sky” is an open multiverse roleplay centered around the cultures of planets Cizra Su-Lahn, Kilamara, and Ganaxavori. Those who choose to enter as foreigners will find themselves inconveniently immersed in the chaotic affairs already internally present amongst these powerful forces. What side will you align yourself to if you chose any side at all? Will you abide by the inequities of society or aspire to change it? On your journey, you may find allies who want peace and others who demand war. It is up to you to choose your own path.
OVERVIEW
Throughout the vastness of the cosmos, in intelligent minds, lurks a tao of dread and desire that life on other worlds strives against its own unlikelihood with familiar tenacity and diversity of form. On most, it fails, for nature’s demands on evolution are harsh and unpredictable. Yet, on a few, life prevails, flourishes into civilization, and contributes to the timeless poem of creation its own transcendent verse. Species emerge from sea, earth, fire, or sky; worship nature, ancestral bones, or the intestate and unthinkable expanse of light-pricked night; then foment war and inevitably devour another in the frantic climb to the acme of ambition. Occasionally, this chaos yields culture, but even then life is a volatile affair relentlessly hammered into shape and structure. The shapes it takes are innumerable, many weak while only a handful are strong. Amongst all these, there must exist an expression that is the ideal sum of its many facets.
Somewhere there must exist the perfect form and a divine animal that embodies it.
The Cizran are not that animal. Rather, they are the chaos that peers inward and glimpses its true nature. Their path was steeped in both violence and worship, inciting wars of a scale beyond imagining, extinguishing and enslaving world after world in their mad search, and with reverence recalling their ancient forerunners that glimpsed a kernel of truth as they donned the skins of beasts and wielded implements of claw and stone. In time, Cizran flesh became a holy book: scripture waiting to be written in the blood of the divine animal.
They have attained much. Across the many systems of their empire, rare is it that two Cizran who meet share the same physiology. Few even remotely reflect the form that was forged on their homeworld. They elected new bodies, even degraded them for the sake of gaudy fashion as a portal through which to flaunt their wealth and power. Few remember the quest that sent them into the far reaches of space. Fewer recognize that, one day, the excess must be shorn if they are to adorn that sacred form.
The path was abandoned on the frontier world of Ganaxavori. The planetary governor, Ec-Shavar, ceased his outward search for the divine and begun to peer inward. In the subsequent chaos that warped the mirror of his spirit, he saw himself, a truer image of perfection than any among the myriad caste-slave species. Indeed, only a meager portion of his power was necessary to pluck Ganaxavori from the empire’s tenuous hold at its outer rim of their empire and cow the minds of his underlings to adulation of him as their sole prophet-god.
Castes
No Cizran can mistake another for any of the lower-caste species that teem like insects across the worlds of their dominion. Their communion is tether and chain, for they feel instinctively the pain and fear of their brothers and sisters. That is their common provenance: the potential failure of their search and the obsession that they must avoid the cruel end of disgrace and inferiority that awaits all who fail on the road to godhood.
Beyond mere subjugation, the caste system is enforced through a complicated bureaucracy and legal milieu. Each caste has their own courts. Even more courts abound for inter-caste affairs. These dictate the laws and limitations at every level of society. For example, with the exceptions of brute force roles in military and law enforcement, only members of the highest caste may serve in a branch of government or own land or property outside the designated housing districts in the main city of Samarra.
Although there are a handful of curious outliers, society is generally structured as follows:
Cizran > Assimilated Races By Intellect > Created-Organic > Machine-AI > Spirit-Infused Golems
Magic
Magic on Cizra Su-Lahn is commonly performed by forming a contract with a god or spirit. When a contract is formed, the god or spirit begins to drain the practitioner’s life force; more powerful spells drain life force even more, to the point where some may be lethal. As such, it isn’t unusual for highest priests to never cast a spell during their lives. This allows them to maintain effective immortality through technology, accrue vast amounts of knowledge, and create a system where they can manipulate others into doing their bidding and carrying out large projects that rely on magic. Death isn’t necessarily the outcome of such a contract; for example, the god of war might only permit its devouts to perish in a war but, until that point, increasingly add to their pain and suffering such that they would seek out a glorious death on the field of battle.
Technology
Although technology has developed slower than on planets that aren’t magically-inclined, age and momentum has brought Cizran culture to a point where its inhabitants enjoy effective immortality, near-perfect health, and great amounts of leisure. Over time, technology has steadily replaced magic, due to the lack of consequences from contracting with gods. As such, lesser spirits have fallen out of memory. Cizrans have spaceships that are the size of a colony, can terraform planets, and harness almost all the energy of their local star.
Gods & Religion
In a technological advanced and scientifically knowledgeable culture, gods, religion, philosophy, and so on tend to exist to explain what can't be explained or can't be accepted; more like the Fates, Muses, and Forces of nature that they recognize and try to deal with by deifying.
RULES
General Arena Rules Apply. Here's our interpretation of them in the form of commandments.
God Moding
Thou shalt not play another person's character, or the derivatives and functions relating to that character, unless given permission by the player. If the player is unavailable, proceed in the knowledge that what you write must be withdrawn at the player's request if they deem it unacceptable.
Power Gaming
Thou shalt not perform any feat necessitating attributes strictly limited to God unless a quorum of players permits it for reasons relating to the plot of the story. Essentially, if it isn't strictly yours to control, don't touch it.
Meta Gaming
Thou shalt not use knowledge you, but your character does not, possess (also called OOC knowledge) unless it is agreed upon by all parties affected for reasons relating to the plot of the story.
What You Should Expect from the Roleplay!
-Mature concepts and themes
-Combat Scenarios
-Anywhere from Low to High Tier Power Scaling is allowed but just know we’re pretty tough ourselves and can keep the roleplay in order if things get out of hand.(Aka do what you please but expect IC resistance)
-Opportunities to engage with several different species and beings.
Our Expectations
-Use of cromulent grammar.
-There are no rules to word count; however, you might find it difficult to cover the content of what’s going on with merely a paragraph or two.
-Write interactive posts that build storylines and involve other players.
-The ability to develop characters in a ever changing setting.
-Adhere to general rules of logic when managing and controlling powers.
-Respect other players OOCly. In character you may act how you see fit to push the story.
-Post in a somewhat timely manner (This is the MOST important rule) We prefer at least a post within 72 hours of it being your turn. This does NOT mean you have to make a post every 3 days. You may find times where you can possibly have an entire week to post based on the speed of others. If you cannot make a post within a timely manner we are most flexible and understanding. The key is communicating beforehand.
Joining
Any sort of character (or potentially group) can be present within the setting due to this being a Multiverse Rp. As long as there are sufficient explanations to why or how a character or group arrived in said locations . You can even create a character native to the several settings we listed. In order to join we recommend a submission of a character sheet of your preferred style posted OOC. That would include basic info and maybe your potential role in the thread. (This can be discussed in private on request) From there we can discuss the best possible way to get you right into the action. If you have any questions regarding the lore or about content ask away. Questions will be answered within a timely manner so as many posts can be pushed out as possible. (We are extremely open to a potential already existing group entering/invading the roleplay. Just give us your pitch)
PLACES
Cizra Su-lahn
Bathed in weird orange glow of the star, Bukan, is the birthworld of the Cizran Empire, Cizra Su-lahn. There, on either side of the river Sirnak, sprawls the seat its galactic government, the city of Samarra.
Cizra Su-Lahns is about fifteen percent larger than prototypical Earth and, as such, blessed with more natural resources. Venturing around the globe, it is clear the planet is one of extremes; some areas exhibiting otherworldly coldness and others unbearable heat. Mountains that penetrate the mesosphere are common and the numerous scars in its crust fall to inexplicable depths. Storms on this Cizra Su-lahn are severe and its abnormal weather patterns often perplex visitors. Still, despite the harshness of the weather the majority of establishments are built with this in mind and through the combination of magically-enforced elements and archaeological excellence; as such, these structures survive events of even cataclysmic proportions.
Gereza
Cizra Su-lahn’s one and only maximum security penitentiary structure, Gereza is a place containing much of the darkest history of the entire planet’s existence. It stands as a lone several hundred meter beige pillar, shrouded within the raging simulated sandstorms that discourage entrance and even finding the location itself. There is one entrance, one exit. Once entering the doors you are transported into a realm unknown to most and forced to abide by the rules of its dimension.
Most cells beyond level 3 are portals to a separate pocket dimension meant to simulate different levels of hell administered to the detainee dependent on the crime.
Rules of Order: It is impossible to leave the dimension unless you travel through the one known door of entrance and exit. Those who have tried to generate riffs in space and travel through find themselves later trapped within a void in which they lose every single one of their senses and drift for an absolute eternity without even being able to comprehend it. The same thing happens to those who attempt to teleport in. It is safe to say that once you’re in, your chances of getting out unjustly are next to none.
Alcazar
Alcazar, a country of endless astroblemes bearing enormous rifts in all direction as far as the eye can see. Within this once apocalyptic wasteland where remnants of a world once populated by old but now the new. The current inhabitants have successfully made use of the augmented landscape building amazing feats of architecture within the turning wave like formations and canyons alike. Powerful sandstorms, though a norm through architectural excellence render the storms as overhead spectacles of entertainment enjoyed during times of worship. This settlement is notably the most closest life-housing establishment to Gereza. Still by all accounts however was it just as difficult to find the penitentiary due to the conditions of the environment around it.
In Alcazar there is a thriving trade culture. One where often items of great importance are smuggled through. The black market is ever present here but that of course is secretly regulated by the government as well. It was safe to say that there was almost nothing that the government of Cizra Su-Lahn wasn’t aware of. The benefits outweigh the cons when dealing with a market of that size. It made Alcazar quite the attraction but the strict laws that govern discouraged novices of the black market to steer clear. No one wants to end up in Gereza.
Space Temple
The space temple has alcoves that can read somebody’s mind and virtually link them to that location, often far-flung spiritual sites or places from which they have been banished. It serves the purpose as a neutral territory where any sojourner might take sanctuary and feel the presence of their fellow believers as they virtually stride the grounds of their elected shrine with neither the labor nor consequence of a physical manifestation. This is done by linking their mind via a psylink powered by divine force. They may observe anything so long as it lies within the temple’s magical walls.
Shrine of Tsathoskr
Tsathoskr’s holy abode concealed no corner suitable for quiet contemplation. Instead, it was simultaneously awful and exquisite. From its interior dome and bowed walls luminiferous flora assaulted the visual and olfactory senses with the story of creation, neither wholesome nor pleasant, but possessed of vivacious honesty and bewitching brutality. Each scene punctured the mind with its loud awakening and to refuse intimacy brought a mad cacophony of thorough debauch. Nature awaited no consent to mold life and, later, consciousness. Rather, time and the elements lustily collided and birthed from their orgies all that would ever be. Scenes of ravenous rape and devour flushed in wild juxtaposition to raw canvasses of stark birth; creatures fed their offspring the young of other species; storms surged, volcanoes erupted, and supernovae shown. Notably, not a single depiction of conventional romance presented itself in the decor. The place was one of singular purpose. It served as a reminder of all that wrought civilization, indifferent to modern contrivances. Life, mollified neither by elaboration nor banality, was thrust upon those who dared enter.
Such a scene splayed across one of numerous panels boasted millions of colorful carnivorous plants that writhed a presentation, with lifelike clarity, of two bears rutting. It emitted all the noises one might conceive: wind teasing the meadow grass, distant birds chirping, and each grunt, snarl, and howl of bestial union. With this colluded the musk of their mating, the dew on the verdance, and a vague essence of pine colluded and lanced directly into the viewer’s sensory cortex.
Just one of a thousand depictions.
Worship of such a deity requires to embrace with fecundity one’s base urges.
Kilamara
The young, backwater world of Kilamara was born with just one, massive super-continent appearing from space as a colossal stretch of green rainforests, valleys, and deep river trenches, and a single stretch of desert that serves as a borderland. Though belonging to the same race of humanoid insects, the male Kilamaros inhabit the western portion of the continent, while the female Kilamari reside on the eastern side, training vigorously in the art of war--preparing themselves for the day on which they will both prove their genetic worth to one another, share in each other’s mutual equality, and become referred to as Kilamarans.
Until that day comes, Kilamaros and Kilamari are not allowed in each other’s tribal lands, only granted permission to visit once wedded, and evidenced by the red stones they wear as necklaces.
In appearance the Kilamarans are eight feet tall, their skin is a mixture of ruddy orange and sandy brown that allows them to blend in well with both the rainforests and desert. Their heads are somewhat squid-shaped, with black, ovular eyes set nearly on the sides, their mouths are horizontal insect mandibles, and their arms feature short retractable as well as regrowable spikes that curve upwards along the humerus and downward along the forearms, possessing a second pair of vestigial limbs near their hips. The nails on their fingers split in two small extensions which aid in a variety of tasks from gripping, piercing, and tearing into the objects of their desire.
The desert serves as one of many hunting grounds for the Kilamarans, in addition to a place for neutral exchange of goods, a fair zone to train and engage in different fighting styles, and most importantly, a means of circumventing the visitation laws that their homelands impose. Due to the looser laws, rampant behavior amongst children is freely allowed, teenagers engage in recreational sport free of overbearing parental guide, provides free reign for adults to enjoy polyamorous relationships.
Scattered across the desert are vast swaths of towering red crystals, protruding hundreds of feet out of the sand, jagged to the touch, and are the topic of interest for some Kilamaran miners who make their living off selling Fire Stones. The technique they use involves scaling a rock, wrapping their arms around protruding spires and jamming their forearm-spike into the surface, at which point they wrench violently with all their might until the rock cracks and tumbles back down to the ground, shattering into smaller chunks along the way. They then climb back down, collect the minerals and distribute them throughout the hubs, whereupon the life’s journey finally begins.
Deimobos
The quintessential opposite of Kilamara--the moon’s purpose and the function for Kilamarans is highly specialized--overcoming fear and terror within themselves, and becoming worthy of their patron God of War, Aredemos: Warrior’s Redemption.
Countless eons ago, the Kilamaran sun lashed out against the solar system--Deimobos its only target--the ramifications of the coronal mass ejection would yield far greater consequences for the planet it orbited. Thousands of active volcanoes underwent a violent series of devastating eruptions visible in the night-sky as millions of coruscating crimson meteors set on a collision course for the world. During this time, the droning intelligence which guided the young, fledgling insects throughout the jungle would not be enough to prevent from the reckoning of spiritual sentience; nor would it be enough to stop the galvanizing rampage that was about to ensue across their neurons, expanding their awareness as waves of fire raced across the desert with varying degrees of heat, crystallizing some regions while leaving others as scorched sand.
From wandering across the jungle on six legs to transforming into bipedal humanoids, the transition from hivemind society to hunter gatherer, and then onto a tribal communion defined by gender separation was an always arduous task with no shortage of differing agendas. Leaders hidden in the trees dictated a rigid spiritual belief system based conflict: conquer and consume each other’s resources in a fight to declare dominance. In the desert an anarchistic ideology spread throughout the minds of those less interested--and moreover tired of the constant bloodshed amongst their various tribes, flourishing in a matter of months, forming the foundations that would lead to the construction of many villages scattered across the sands. For these Kilamarans, the desert was, and still is a haven for those who prefer a life of cooperation, pacifism, and mutual gain through trust and respect.
This did not stop the jungle-dwellers from entering the lands unwelcomed, accompanied by small warbands seeking to retrieve the sons and daughters who had fled the violence, claiming they had a responsibility to protect their members from possible invasions from enemy tribes.Those who resisted were brought back by force, killed, or enslaved as a way of displaying what happened to those who betrayed their roots.
Feeling trapped between two bloodthirsty sects of Kilamari and Kilamaros, it wasn’t long before the desert-dwellers began to discuss whether or not they should relinquish their belief in pacifism and reclaim their freedom by force, or simply hope to be one day left alone. Debates sparked over which was more important: war or peace? Loyalty to their tribes, or loyalty to their individuality, selflessness or selfishness.
The answer was brought forward by a pair of Kilamarans who had been married for quite some time, their physical and mental compatibility with each other utterly and everlastingly apparent. Together, they had reached the conclusion that if not for the Fire Stones they wore as necklaces… if not for their impact on Kilamara so many years ago, this sentience of theirs would not exist--the simple, yet powerful emotions they felt would have never been born--so they theorized that the answers to their problems must have come from the moon, Deimobos. All Kilamarans remembered the eruption that happened amongst the stars, remembered the destructive impact the meteors had on their lands, the sudden neural impact it had on their minds, thrusting them into this state of internal strife.
Convinced that their only lead was the Fire Stones, they reasoned that the largest one would yield the most abundant quantity of the mysterious essence that had mutated their minds, and thus - yield the most answers as well. Agreeing on this plan of action, the couple spread their idea to others, gathered a small band together and ordered the rest of their loyal compatriots to go back into the jungle and inform the leaders of their discovery. While the others returned to land of green, the couple and their band embarked into the desert wastes, knowing the scorched lands would hold the grandest of these strange rocks.
Days passed like weeks, but their food did not run out because they knew how to hunt the giant avians, who hunted the giant snakes, who hunted the trapdoor spiders as they nomadically skittered through the wastes, creating new burrows in an effort to trap the worms who fed on a diet of rich minerals, which also happened to produce the purest meat they could ever imagine and this was how they sustained themselves. It would also serve as their first clue: find more worms, find more of the stones. By simply observing the red mineral to be a part of the worms diet and knowing that no other creature outweighed the worm, this meant that in order to keep itself healthy, it had to travel to locations where the stones were in excess quantities.
Following the feather trails which the Kilamarans used as shade from the sun, massive nests were found, built from snake skeletons. Simple rope traps and spears were enough to ensure their capture as well as avoiding becoming dinner themselves. Allowing only the strongest of the flock get away, they implanted a mindset of desperation in the birds who would hasten the effort repopulate, resulting in less downtime when it came to discovering the serpents. This created a chain reaction, for the birds huddled the snakes together, who were naturally located near the trapdoors, waiting for a spider to emerge, which in-turn led to the Kilamarans setting the burrows on fire, both for the purpose of eradicating any spiders, but knowing that once the worm corpses were incinerated, all that would be left was shining, undigested Fire Stones, and that meant the most massive of them were not too far off.
Armed with their final clue, the search party tripled their efforts to find the origin of their spiritual genesis. Venturing into the deepest, most remote regions of the desert, the Kilamarans felt the soft, grainy sand gradually become rough and jagged beneath their feets, saw the gold landscape shift to ruddy red, and mourned over the loss of those who had given their last breath in their quest for enlightenment, the last of which served only to bolster their resolve.
The journey wound up taking a total three months, but for those who did survive, the destination had proven well-worth the hardship and toil. Before them stood a network of towering crimson crystal-spires, all of which sprouted from an otherwise flat surface both feeling and resembling perfectly smooth glass. Venturing deeper forest, the band found the proximity of spires shrinking against their skin, until they were forced to walk single file down a pristine path, the coloration of red light growing more and more saturated with each footstep, scintillating as they traveled toward the center.
Eventually the color and light became too much for the Kilamarans to bare, the forest vibrating and resonating with their desperate desire to escape the mayhem wrought by their former families. Soon, the crystals rose in temperature, the ground shifting to a softer state that made it harder to walk, the ceilings dripping with molten rock which swiftly navigated their way around the flesh and accumulated at the stones around their necks. Within minutes, the rock began to harden and expand over their bodies, triggering a physical metamorphosis as the ceiling collapsed and the band became enveloped in magma, struggling with all their might to make it back to the surface.
Emerging from the magma, the Kilamarans were greeted by the sight of chaos: fire and ash rained down dark-red sky, lightning struck the earth all around them. Their brains went into overdrive as the once vestigial limbs they possessed near their waists became active again, giving them a centaurian stance, their smooth-skinned upper-bodies sitting firmly atop their heavy, exoskeletal bottom halves which extended several feet behind them, lava flowing between the plates. Upon their elliptical heads were many upward-facing horns, sprouting from the sides, the firestones divided in two between their foreheads and sternums, embedded deep within their epidermis and glowing faintly underneath.
Feeling at peace for the first time, the band quickly came to the conclusion that the lava in conjunction with the Fire Stones had transformed them, allowing them to not only return to their original insectoid roots, but had merged their humanoid forms together into one complete being. With their advanced spiritual senses, the Kilamarans could see far out into their own solar system and beyond, able to detect other lifeforms scattered across the galaxy, realizing that they too might be experiencing a similar crisis among their own people. Knowing they still had to solve the problems facing their homeworld, the husband of the couple who had led them to this world beckoned them to return and take back their freedom by any and all means necessary while he went off to explore and discover these new worlds.
“I am Aredemos: the Redeemed Warrior. Tell our story to all, invite them to experience it for themselves, allow them to overcome Deimobos and conquer and fear and terror that plagues their souls.”
His message delivered, Aredemos instinctively channeled the element of fire into his abdomen, expelling it from his very limbs and propelled himself from Deimobos, eagerly awaiting the new people he would encounter, and all too certain of the conflicts he was sure to become involved in.
Years later, the Kilamarans constructed a temple dedicated to Aredemos’ memory. The entrance to the temple is located just below the summit of the tallest volcano, visible as a large aperture flanked by smaller outcroppings that serve to allow lava from the volcano’s rim to flow around it. The temple interior is composed of smooth, flat floors and walls bearing a fiery bronze sheen that is clear enough to make one’s reflection visible against the surface, and are flanked on both sides by two lava canals which flow down into two massive molten rivers. To get there, one must first ascend the mountain and bare the crushing, burning lavafalls, allowing themselves to transform into true warriors who will spread the message of freedom back down to Kilamara and to all those would find themselves oppressed by their heritage and traditions.
Sangeries
The country of Sangeries could very well exist potentially anywhere within the universe. The dimension often projected itself as an extension of the sea with a island housing a enormous labyrinth of a Victorian Castle. When at sea it is fabled that if you sailed away from the maidens call you’d journey an endless path to starvation. Suddenly the Sea would have no end. Any other destination would be denied. From then on out you could only go to the fabled island of Sangeries...
On the island housed a seemingly infinite number of sirens. It rests up top a small mountain range and towers over anything else on the island. Its location depended entirely on the position of the “Link.” As long as a link was present Sangeries could exist in any location.Links could be a person as its seen most commonly or even an object. Established between a soul via spiritual contract or possession, that alone allows Noire to manifest a creation point for her dimension. Currently there are no known links on Sangeries thus, making this location improbable to reach.
All of the captured souls of Noire reside in Sangeries. Whether they are seen or not depends entirely on Noire or a Link on the more powerful side. The presence of the souls could be felt at all times though it was no clear indication on how to interact with them while within the realm. With the abundance of souls came a ridiculous amount of power. A power that was certainly abused and often created anomalies of absurd proportions. Anyone whose soul was extracted within this realm could be brought back to existence on a whim. Whether is to receive once lost information or torment others it didn’t matter.
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