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[CHAR] Terra
- Post-Apocalyptic
- Fantasy
- 18+
- Advanced
- Small Group
- GM World of Terra Co-GM Little Bill
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Cloaked in radiation-protective gear from head to toe and a medium sword for self defense, with broad frame standing at an average height of about a little less than two meters, Briggs' masked mien leaves little to infer from his expressions (or lack thereof).
However like all Humans, the clothes he wears is also coded to identify many aspects of himself to other Humans. For example, the white pointy polyesterene hat sewn unto his helmet, is worn by someone with scholarly pursuits, as opposed to the feathered cap of a hunter or the ossified horns of a warrior. The torch he wields further reinforces the idea, as the plant quickly withers if not cared for by skilled hands.
His clothes, though now worn and torn, were once an indication of wealth that meant he came from a settlement where they could easily fabricate cloth - something traders (and refugees) might pay for directions to. Even the little red symbol on his sleeves, bearing a handprint with a leaf at it's center, signals his field as a naturalist and Biothurge which other Humans may hire and consult him in troubles related to his area of expertise.
It is such ingenuity in communication and other areas (from the viewpoint of a non-human) that has helped Mankind survive thus far. Being able to convey ideas without sparing the labored breath of a breather.
Too bad there's no one else out here to communicate with.
Briggs muses, sighing heavily as he leers from his leafy camoflauge to stalk an overgrown tortoise grazing away blissfully. For a moment he was certain that he heard the reptile laugh ...though ....maybe he was just going crazy sooner than he thought.
Oh well.
However like all Humans, the clothes he wears is also coded to identify many aspects of himself to other Humans. For example, the white pointy polyesterene hat sewn unto his helmet, is worn by someone with scholarly pursuits, as opposed to the feathered cap of a hunter or the ossified horns of a warrior. The torch he wields further reinforces the idea, as the plant quickly withers if not cared for by skilled hands.
Brightwisp Torch.
Gnarled roots of leafless Saberstem sapling exude a bactericidal chemical that accelerates the life cycle of the hardy, territorial Brightflies which colonize on them. The insects, in turn, pollinate the plant's spores. By exploiting this natural symbiosis, Humans have a living torch that lets them travel in the dark without risk of setting things ablaze. By topping it up with a nodule of nutritious nectar and mud every now and then, further adds to the chain of symbiosis and reliance.
Gnarled roots of leafless Saberstem sapling exude a bactericidal chemical that accelerates the life cycle of the hardy, territorial Brightflies which colonize on them. The insects, in turn, pollinate the plant's spores. By exploiting this natural symbiosis, Humans have a living torch that lets them travel in the dark without risk of setting things ablaze. By topping it up with a nodule of nutritious nectar and mud every now and then, further adds to the chain of symbiosis and reliance.
His clothes, though now worn and torn, were once an indication of wealth that meant he came from a settlement where they could easily fabricate cloth - something traders (and refugees) might pay for directions to. Even the little red symbol on his sleeves, bearing a handprint with a leaf at it's center, signals his field as a naturalist and Biothurge which other Humans may hire and consult him in troubles related to his area of expertise.
Biothurgy.
While Biothurgical runecrafting is capable of mending small wounds and ridding malaise in the span of a long breath, Briggs prefers to let wounds heal through the more conventional methods of microbicidal herbs, nutrition and good rest. There is much less scarring and a better chance for the body to strengthen itself against illness this way. Plus, it hurts less. WAY LESS.
There's also a risk that some patients get addicted to the magic, eventually turning undead should they not curb their habits.
While Biothurgical runecrafting is capable of mending small wounds and ridding malaise in the span of a long breath, Briggs prefers to let wounds heal through the more conventional methods of microbicidal herbs, nutrition and good rest. There is much less scarring and a better chance for the body to strengthen itself against illness this way. Plus, it hurts less. WAY LESS.
There's also a risk that some patients get addicted to the magic, eventually turning undead should they not curb their habits.
Rubbing radioactive salts in a precise manner, coupled with low-frequency soundwaves that activate the matrix (incantation), stimulates spontaneous cell division and role assignment around the wounded aRea.
It is such ingenuity in communication and other areas (from the viewpoint of a non-human) that has helped Mankind survive thus far. Being able to convey ideas without sparing the labored breath of a breather.
Breathing apparatus.
Particulate gas mask. Like and part of the armour most humans of Humanity wear, they are replicated from relics of the country called Hazmat from the first age.
Particulate gas mask. Like and part of the armour most humans of Humanity wear, they are replicated from relics of the country called Hazmat from the first age.
Too bad there's no one else out here to communicate with.
Briggs muses, sighing heavily as he leers from his leafy camoflauge to stalk an overgrown tortoise grazing away blissfully. For a moment he was certain that he heard the reptile laugh ...though ....maybe he was just going crazy sooner than he thought.
Oh well.
Background
The child no one wanted. The son no one spoke of.
Humans were a flimsy lot. No scales to shield them from the harsh weather, no wings to help them cross faraway lands. Their skin was bare and naked, uncoloured, cooking at the slightest touch of the sun into a variety of reds and browns. The only thing going for them were their penchance to overthink things. Nature's consolation prize at best...
In a harsh land, there were once some who tried to make up for these weaknesses with a forbidden art. Like baking, they tried to change the ingredients that made up Man. Human Transmutation, it was called. Most were thought to have yielded no results, others were too traumatic to even consider attempting. So after a decade or so of trials, Humans resigned to their fate, ekking out a living with their tools and walls of stone at the outskirts of the wilderness.
But the labors of his ancestors did not go to waste.
In the colony of pure-blooded humans, were suddenly born a generation of peculiar children. A sickly girl with ears like white feathery wings, adored for her angelic appearance. An energetic boy with a prehensile tail. Twins who never left the water tub they were born in.
Briggs was such a child.
He was kept in a library, almost mute, for most of his childhood. Till his vocal cords developed in his teenage years and he could finally speak the words he had long known. Books were a big part of his life, a life he felt content with, for what he could not see beyond the little glass window - he could wander through their written pages. As a curiousity his family then dressed him up, and with the help of a big floppy hat, let him attend school like any other student. Illegal things, afterall, were ever so exciting for the nobles and few things were as illegal as giving a halfbeast a proper education under the very nose of the government which forbade it.
...That was many years ago. Briggs has long outstayed his welcome among Humans and his family since then, since a series of misfortunate events. Having to brave the wilds on his own now, he has only his wit and opposable thumbs against all the nasty things out here. Yet he still clings to the naive altruism that stems from one too many evenings with heroic/romance novels, believing that there will be one day where 'monsters' and Humans will be able to live together in peace. So while trying not to get ferried off by some petrodactyl, rot from overexposure to radiation or you know, starve, he studies the strange and wonderful flora-fauna that thrives out here. Seeing his exile as a silver-lining chance to explore the world outside their lead walls, looking for that big discovery which will be his ticket back home.
His ticket back to Humanity.
Relationships
(Hostile) The government of the town of Humanity - Exiled. Bounty rewarded for capture.
(Neutral) Shroomfolk - Managed to barely communicate through notes left by other explorer, seems friendly if not a little sedated. Can be used as a seizure-inducing lightsource once lured into a one sided conversation about rotting logs.
(Friendly/Neutral) Humans from other colonies - Mankind might be inclined to treat each other kindly, given the rarity of their species as a whole. ...Maybe??? Yet to confirm.
MissCapnCrunch Pᴏʟɪᴛᴇ & Pᴇᴄᴜʟɪᴀʀ / Pɪʀᴀᴛᴇ Pʀɪɴᴄᴇss
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Tᴏʀᴄ ᴛʜᴇ Oʀᴄ
Gʀᴇᴇɴ. Qᴜᴇᴇɴ. Pᴀᴄɪꜰɪsᴛ Wᴀʀ Mᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ.
Pʀᴏꜰɪʟᴇ
When an Orc is born they are given a name that is fitting for the delivery process of their birth. There surname is either brought upon by their father's accomplishments or that of their very own feats. When Torc's mother was in labor, the baby girl twisted inside the birth canal several times, ripping her severely. It was beautiful. Torque: A twisting force that tends to cause rotation. Torc's parent's were not very educated so the spelling of her name was not much of concern. It was just good enough so that others got the idea across that even before she could carry her first sword or axe that the little queen was causing wonderful destruction.
Born into the clan of Skullsplatter's, Torc Skullsplatter is the youngest and only daughter of Zorc and Lorc. Zorc would often mention that his fifteen sons before her were of better use for warfare, but that she would give birth to many good warriors some day. Currently she is eighteen and behind her peers in the child bearing department, by now she should have at least two children. It wasn't that Torc wasn't able to bare children or that she wasn't a sought after suitor. Standing at six foot two and weighing over two-hundred and fifteen pounds she was a catch and a half. Her red hair was disheveled, dreaded and unkempt and her eyes were a fierce and piercing yellow. She just wasn't amused with a lot of the tactics of other Orcs or most Greens for that matter.
Born into the clan of Skullsplatter's, Torc Skullsplatter is the youngest and only daughter of Zorc and Lorc. Zorc would often mention that his fifteen sons before her were of better use for warfare, but that she would give birth to many good warriors some day. Currently she is eighteen and behind her peers in the child bearing department, by now she should have at least two children. It wasn't that Torc wasn't able to bare children or that she wasn't a sought after suitor. Standing at six foot two and weighing over two-hundred and fifteen pounds she was a catch and a half. Her red hair was disheveled, dreaded and unkempt and her eyes were a fierce and piercing yellow. She just wasn't amused with a lot of the tactics of other Orcs or most Greens for that matter.
Bɪᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ
The Skullsplatter clan were a rough and tough group of Orcs. Warriors in every aspect of the word for generations and generations. They were called to arms to aide many groups and fought bravely and rarely loss a battle. By the time Torc was born, the land of Terra was quite different than her ancestors had grown up in. They trained for wars that did not happen, they taught their children to kill people that they were now intermingling with, and they stuck to traditions no how outdated they seemed. Torc was raised as any Orc child would be, but she had different interests.
During her training as a small child she would spend more time looking at the figurines that littered the war table rather than listening to different plans of attack if it were to come down to it. Big clumsy hands were not great for carving small miniatures, she would press too hard in some places and either carve out too much or break it in half completely. This hobby was something practiced in the privates of her own room, as her parents were not too happy about the idea. They wanted a warrior bearing, axe wielding, aggressive war lord. They received one, on the outside- Torc played the role well, but she didn't enjoy it. She went through the steps she needed to take to get by the tests and trials but her heart was set other places. Torc enjoyed the creative and small things in life, she enjoyed the color that blood made a fresh white linen but didn't enjoy the process it took to get it that way.
Turning Eighteen in Orc culture was a huge day for a woman, she was not considered prime and ready for child bearing and considered a queen. Not in the political sense but in the way that Orc men treated their women with a lot of respect. Not your typical way that you would perceive respect; the men thought women were weaker and quite useless compared to their male counterpart but they were respected for giving life to their strongest and most respected leaders. Torc was no exception, she carried on her father's surname with pride and turned down men left and right. She wanted someone who respected her for her inner beauty not how fast she could splatter a skull between her thighs. This has caused some tension in her family, her mother and father have been quite vocal about what she needed to do with her life how to go about it, unless she wanted to be clanless- a fate worse than death in the Orc community. Torc would ignore most of these things, her hopeless romantic heart and her desire to break from tradition lingering every day that comes her way.
During her training as a small child she would spend more time looking at the figurines that littered the war table rather than listening to different plans of attack if it were to come down to it. Big clumsy hands were not great for carving small miniatures, she would press too hard in some places and either carve out too much or break it in half completely. This hobby was something practiced in the privates of her own room, as her parents were not too happy about the idea. They wanted a warrior bearing, axe wielding, aggressive war lord. They received one, on the outside- Torc played the role well, but she didn't enjoy it. She went through the steps she needed to take to get by the tests and trials but her heart was set other places. Torc enjoyed the creative and small things in life, she enjoyed the color that blood made a fresh white linen but didn't enjoy the process it took to get it that way.
Turning Eighteen in Orc culture was a huge day for a woman, she was not considered prime and ready for child bearing and considered a queen. Not in the political sense but in the way that Orc men treated their women with a lot of respect. Not your typical way that you would perceive respect; the men thought women were weaker and quite useless compared to their male counterpart but they were respected for giving life to their strongest and most respected leaders. Torc was no exception, she carried on her father's surname with pride and turned down men left and right. She wanted someone who respected her for her inner beauty not how fast she could splatter a skull between her thighs. This has caused some tension in her family, her mother and father have been quite vocal about what she needed to do with her life how to go about it, unless she wanted to be clanless- a fate worse than death in the Orc community. Torc would ignore most of these things, her hopeless romantic heart and her desire to break from tradition lingering every day that comes her way.
Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
Family - Zorc & Lorc: Her doting and overbearing parents. They want nothing but the best for their daughter but only if it follows tradition and what they have set out for her. Lorc; her mother is a bit more accepting of Torc's free spirit but really wishes Torc. would just listen better. It's not that hard, she's been doing it for over fifty years.
Family - Borc, Corc, Dorc, Eorc, Forc, Gorc, Horc, Iorc, Jorc, Porc, Rorc, Morc, Norc, Qorc, and Vorc: Her fifteen older brothers. Some are nice, some are assholes, all of them are warriors to the clan. Torc is fond of all of her brothers despite their personalities, flaws, and other features. She looks up to Forc out of all of them because of his dreams of being a chef one day.
Family - Borc, Corc, Dorc, Eorc, Forc, Gorc, Horc, Iorc, Jorc, Porc, Rorc, Morc, Norc, Qorc, and Vorc: Her fifteen older brothers. Some are nice, some are assholes, all of them are warriors to the clan. Torc is fond of all of her brothers despite their personalities, flaws, and other features. She looks up to Forc out of all of them because of his dreams of being a chef one day.
HokumPocus RATS WE'RE THE RATS WE ARE THE RATS
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
CROW BEASTFOLK
PROFILE
Lady Uervia is an avian beastfolk with jet black feathers and eyes that give her a slightly intimidating and elegant appearance. She is around six feet in height, taller than most human men. Her body is adorned with intricate robes that lay somewhere between kitsch and extravagant. She has two sets of high maintenance talons and speaks with a very formal, arrogant and royal tone.
When in the wild she instead wears simple dresses that convey the idea of regal femininity without restricting arm movement or using delicate fabrics.
BIOGRAPHY
Lady Uervia is a haughty and extroverted woman who sees herself as a lady of high social status. She enjoys playing games of chance and telling riddles. She is fascinated by shiny objects, particularly precious stones and jewelry that most find gaudy and repulsive. As a twenty-two year old crow beastfolk, Uervia is considered a middle aged woman, the avian equivalent to a human in their forties.
She enjoys listening to music and will coo along to the melody. Uervia tends to wave her talons around in an exaggerated fashion to emphasize her words in a manner that she considers elegant. Her laugh is especially exaggerated, sounding like a mix between a cawing bird and a sadistic queen's guffaw.
She hates boredom more than anything else in the world and constantly seeks entertainment. Her hatred of boredom is so strong that she has hoarder tendencies and a strong dislike for one-hundred percent certainty. Uervia will go as far as tipping the scales against her if it means having more fun, even in combat.
Uervia is a scholar who has had extensive archery training, albeit with no true combat experience against anything other than targets or animals. Her bow, named Quill, is a compound bow that has been slightly modified to suit a wielder with talons. It is incredibly heavy and firing arrows from it is a slow and tough process, although her avian eyes guarantee extreme precision.
Uervia was born to a wealthy pair of merchants in one of Terra's more civilized areas. Avian beastfolk have a tendency to raise their children in a way that most other races consider heartless, taking no time in shoving them out into the world and leaving them behind. She was no exception, and her parents sent her off to fend for herself as soon as she was capable of speaking. Uervia's life was more pampered than most however, having been sent off to a special school for beastfolk rather than being dumped in the wilderness or what have you.
The school she attended focused on etiquette and combat with a very pro-beastfolk viewpoint. Any and all questions relating to the history of the world were shrugged off with simple one sentence explanations, usually boiling down to beastfolk appearing before any other race and being special, unique, etcetera.
Predictably, Uervia grew unsatisfied in being a caged bird and sought to explore the world in order to both find out the truth on its origins and hone her archery skills, as she was tired of firing wooden targets and longed for the real deal. Many years have passed since her graduation. She has since used her talents in etiquette and combat to work as a fur trader, hunting game or occasionally buying low and selling high from others like herself. As time goes by she has grown more restless for adventure.
RELATIONSHIPS
Rival: Wileod, a human mercenary who almost killed Uervia. She challenged him to a bet, tricked him and won, although he ran away before she could claim his life.
Family: Her parents, Krolas and Miraglen Tiniebla. Many avian beastfolk don't pass on their last names to their children until they have proven themselves. Uervia is no longer a young adult, hasn't seen them since infancy and wishes to receive their approval.
baraquiel Angel of Moe *:･ﾟ✧
Member
Seen
4 days ago
Videl Strongheart, the Elvish Bard
Profile
Videl is a young man approaching his twenties. His body is that of a dancer and the only noticeable thing about him is his white hair, which was a result of his parents living in a place mildly affected by radiation. That is the only thing about him that is affected by radiation, though his parents didn't know that their white hair could have an effect on their genes. He's mostly dressed in clothes fit for travelling yet very comfortable to wear and always brings along his mandolin guitar which was given to him by a friend.
Biography
Videl's elf parents left him at the doorsteps of a random house one night, never to be seen again. The man who lived there was Morris Strongheart, a human bard who's rumored that his songs can calm raging storms, invoke the spirits of the forests, and call upon the very forces of nature. The truth was he was just a damn good musician. He had gained dozens of admirers wherever he performs in towns but he also gained quite a few enemies along the way. He hid himself from the rest of the world and peacefully lived in solitude for decades in the forests. Until he found the elvish baby, that is.
Morris tried to ignore the baby's cries of hunger, until he finally gave in and gave the baby some food. The baby immediately smiled and giggled. Moris has seen a few babies in his life as a travelling bard but the way they somehow made the dark world a better place to be with their smiles never ceased to amaze him, moreso that this baby was one of the elves. He tried to wander around the forest, trying to look for the baby's parents who left the poor baby at his doorsteps but to no avail. Taking a deep breath, he decided to keep the baby and adopt him as his child.
Luckily, he wasn't alone with the deed. Morris made friends with the plantfolk in his years of living in the forest, so the baby grew up in a healthy, positive, and vibrant environment. Everyday he would play with the young plantfolk and climb the tallest trees, with the their permission of course, and every night Morris would play him lullabies before he went to sleep. His smiles and laugh were his best characteristics, described by the plantfolk to be so lively and vibrant yet so peaceful and serene as if it was made by nature herself. It was because of this that Morris decided to name the young boy Videl.
Videl also became more curious as he aged and started playing with Morris's instruments. He would've been infuriated with the young boy until he played one of the lullabies Morris played him last night. Amazed by the child's potential, he began to train Videl with various musical instruments in the hopes that he can become a great musician someday, perhaps even better than Morris himself which was his dream for little Videl. Even if elves do not have the need to use their mouths, Videl was cared to be both able to speak physically and mentally to others. Not only that, Morris was also quite surprised to find out that Videl has a wonderful singing voice, leaving Morris to wonder about the unexplored musical potential of the other elves.
However, it was when Videl turned 16 that Morris finally recognized something was off about Videl. In addition to Videl's mental telepathy and empathy, Morris recognized that the boy gave off a faint aroma that makes him likeable to others, most likely an effect of radiation along with his unusually white hair. When he asked the other plantfolk about it, they said they smelled his peculiar scent as well, though they were baffled when they learned the scent seems different to anyone that can smell him. One described Videl's scent as strawberry-like while the other said that he smelled like honey-lemon, for Morris it was lavender. Morris thought that this 'magical scent' of Videl's could be his greatest asset along with his musical prowess that can help him in the obstacles he will face in his life. At Videl's age of 18, he has already mastered playing all known musical instruments thanks to the efforts of Morris who cared for him like his true son.
Relationships
Family:
- Morris Strongheart - adopted father and musical trainer
- The plantfolk who helped raised him
- Redwood, Garamela, and Ulmag - Videl's childhood plantfolk bestfriends
A Lowly Wretch The Listless Loiterer
Member
Seen
3 days ago
Violet, The Shroomfolk.
Profile
"From my studies I can deduce a number of details about this enigmatic species. These mobile fungi seem to communicate via a pattern of lights emitted from their 'eyes' so to speak. As I've observed the frequency of these flashes relay details while the color indicates the emotional context of their words. From what I can tell this one particular flora I have before me indicates itself as a more violet-ish color. I shall call it Violet as it has come to understand my language and indicates that as correct.
Teaching this one subject to listen and write has been a hard but fruitful effort as it has given me insight no others possess of this remarkable species. Seeing as it is incapable of vocalization I figured it would be best if it could write as a means of communicating with others of our kind. So far Violet has taken well to my lessons. This discourse we've shared has illuminated much about the shroomfolk.
For example as they get older they do not wither as we fauna do. Rather, they simply continue to grow as they age. Their growth is tied closely to their available food source as well. The more fertile the soil, the larger they grow. Violet itself is 3.048 meters tall and it is far from the largest of them. I've been told their largest member is as big as the mountain. While for most I'd accept this as a figure of speech given how literally Violet interprets words I see this as cause of both curiosity and alarm. Luckily the larger members of their society do not mobilize unless their colony is endangered or their food source dwindles. The soil must be rich indeed to keep something of such size placated.
_
Before I continue perhaps I should elaborate more on the physical details of the shroomfolk, for those who aren't familiar with the species. They are a race of rather lively mushrooms that inhabit a fairly mountainous region to the west. They are animate at every size cycle beyond the spore and live in rather large colonies. Their caps are a pale mossy green color while their stem takes on a more earthy greyish brown appearance. Extending from the sides of their convex caps are a set of arms formed from the hardy mycelium that comprises the surface of their caps. These arms typically possess three digits per hand and are not limited in motion due to their lack of bones. Despite the absent skeletal structure they are no less solid as the mycelium of their cap is both quite firm and strong, requiring significant force and effort to cut through as I've seen demonstrated in their altercations with natural predators.
The cap itself possess large pores that sit between the cap and the gills (A wide and thin sheet-like series of plates radiating from the stem). These pores take in air and can on occasion exhume clouds of spores, spreading their young about as they go. These spores are fairly tolerant, clinging to whatever surface they reach and extending their hyphae. While these spores only grow in soil they are quite dangerous to breath. Autopsies have shown common folk with spores stuck in their lungs and throat, their mycelia rooting them to the inner tissue of their lungs and up their throat as well.
Below all that lies their stem, the softest part of their bodies. At the center of a single side of their stem lie their eyes which are light sensitive nodules. Typically surrounding these nodules are bioluminescent chambers which flash and change colors based on the composition of chemicals reacting within. At the base of the stem they possess a pair of squat little legs which they use to move about, albeit rather slowly. Despite lacking haste in their short legs they are still several magnitudes faster than most species of mushroom. They also seem to use these legs to take in nutrients as well, taking root in rich soil until they are motivated to move again."
Biography
"My time with Violet has been a fascinating one. It is quite keen to learn the ways of other races and is undoubtably a curious mind as well. Apparently while color may indicate the emotional context of their language the color that their light chambers glow while they are idle is the color they identify each other by. Given the relation of emotion and color in their culture it seems what color they reside at while idling indicates their basic personality. For example while an orange shroomfolk might make for a good guard as they are fairly forward and tend to look out for danger a blue shroomfolk would prefer to avoid confrontation. Violet shroomfolk tend to be regarded for their wisdom and are well respected among their peers. Naturally of course those shroomfolk who are of the same color category differentiate each other based on the shade and hue of their light. None of their kind would mistake a lime green shroomfolk for a forest green shroomfolk.
Violet has come a long way from home, something it's kind are not accustomed to doing given their sedate nature. Even Violet is prone to spend exceptionally long periods of time doing little more than resting about and observing an area. This is interesting as it indicates a strong tie with their roots, moreso than many plantfolk. I have yet to discover evidence that shroomfolk didn't simply develop movement as a means of coping with the changes in their environment.
Amongst our many discussions we were discussing how it goes about it's travels given the various dangers that befall regular travelers and it's responses were most fascinating. It seems that while shroomfolk do not tend towards the use of tools they have developed a sort of bare handed style of martial combat. Those who choose to learn practice a style which emphasizes quick slaps and palm thrusts to bludgeon their opponents while keeping them locked in the center of their path so they can use their hardy caps to shield against blows.
One matter of importance is to not bring any open flame near a mushroom colony. As I learned with Violet they become extremely agitated near fire as they are apparently rather flammable. I count myself lucky that Violet showed as much restraint as it did given that particular slip up has cost unknowing travelers their lives.
With these findings and more I return to share this knowledge. It is my sincerest hope that these notes earn the approval of our doctor.
Praise be to the scalpel."
Relationships
((Pending.))
Profile
"From my studies I can deduce a number of details about this enigmatic species. These mobile fungi seem to communicate via a pattern of lights emitted from their 'eyes' so to speak. As I've observed the frequency of these flashes relay details while the color indicates the emotional context of their words. From what I can tell this one particular flora I have before me indicates itself as a more violet-ish color. I shall call it Violet as it has come to understand my language and indicates that as correct.
Teaching this one subject to listen and write has been a hard but fruitful effort as it has given me insight no others possess of this remarkable species. Seeing as it is incapable of vocalization I figured it would be best if it could write as a means of communicating with others of our kind. So far Violet has taken well to my lessons. This discourse we've shared has illuminated much about the shroomfolk.
For example as they get older they do not wither as we fauna do. Rather, they simply continue to grow as they age. Their growth is tied closely to their available food source as well. The more fertile the soil, the larger they grow. Violet itself is 3.048 meters tall and it is far from the largest of them. I've been told their largest member is as big as the mountain. While for most I'd accept this as a figure of speech given how literally Violet interprets words I see this as cause of both curiosity and alarm. Luckily the larger members of their society do not mobilize unless their colony is endangered or their food source dwindles. The soil must be rich indeed to keep something of such size placated.
_
Before I continue perhaps I should elaborate more on the physical details of the shroomfolk, for those who aren't familiar with the species. They are a race of rather lively mushrooms that inhabit a fairly mountainous region to the west. They are animate at every size cycle beyond the spore and live in rather large colonies. Their caps are a pale mossy green color while their stem takes on a more earthy greyish brown appearance. Extending from the sides of their convex caps are a set of arms formed from the hardy mycelium that comprises the surface of their caps. These arms typically possess three digits per hand and are not limited in motion due to their lack of bones. Despite the absent skeletal structure they are no less solid as the mycelium of their cap is both quite firm and strong, requiring significant force and effort to cut through as I've seen demonstrated in their altercations with natural predators.
The cap itself possess large pores that sit between the cap and the gills (A wide and thin sheet-like series of plates radiating from the stem). These pores take in air and can on occasion exhume clouds of spores, spreading their young about as they go. These spores are fairly tolerant, clinging to whatever surface they reach and extending their hyphae. While these spores only grow in soil they are quite dangerous to breath. Autopsies have shown common folk with spores stuck in their lungs and throat, their mycelia rooting them to the inner tissue of their lungs and up their throat as well.
Below all that lies their stem, the softest part of their bodies. At the center of a single side of their stem lie their eyes which are light sensitive nodules. Typically surrounding these nodules are bioluminescent chambers which flash and change colors based on the composition of chemicals reacting within. At the base of the stem they possess a pair of squat little legs which they use to move about, albeit rather slowly. Despite lacking haste in their short legs they are still several magnitudes faster than most species of mushroom. They also seem to use these legs to take in nutrients as well, taking root in rich soil until they are motivated to move again."
Biography
"My time with Violet has been a fascinating one. It is quite keen to learn the ways of other races and is undoubtably a curious mind as well. Apparently while color may indicate the emotional context of their language the color that their light chambers glow while they are idle is the color they identify each other by. Given the relation of emotion and color in their culture it seems what color they reside at while idling indicates their basic personality. For example while an orange shroomfolk might make for a good guard as they are fairly forward and tend to look out for danger a blue shroomfolk would prefer to avoid confrontation. Violet shroomfolk tend to be regarded for their wisdom and are well respected among their peers. Naturally of course those shroomfolk who are of the same color category differentiate each other based on the shade and hue of their light. None of their kind would mistake a lime green shroomfolk for a forest green shroomfolk.
Violet has come a long way from home, something it's kind are not accustomed to doing given their sedate nature. Even Violet is prone to spend exceptionally long periods of time doing little more than resting about and observing an area. This is interesting as it indicates a strong tie with their roots, moreso than many plantfolk. I have yet to discover evidence that shroomfolk didn't simply develop movement as a means of coping with the changes in their environment.
Amongst our many discussions we were discussing how it goes about it's travels given the various dangers that befall regular travelers and it's responses were most fascinating. It seems that while shroomfolk do not tend towards the use of tools they have developed a sort of bare handed style of martial combat. Those who choose to learn practice a style which emphasizes quick slaps and palm thrusts to bludgeon their opponents while keeping them locked in the center of their path so they can use their hardy caps to shield against blows.
One matter of importance is to not bring any open flame near a mushroom colony. As I learned with Violet they become extremely agitated near fire as they are apparently rather flammable. I count myself lucky that Violet showed as much restraint as it did given that particular slip up has cost unknowing travelers their lives.
With these findings and more I return to share this knowledge. It is my sincerest hope that these notes earn the approval of our doctor.
Praise be to the scalpel."
Relationships
((Pending.))
Genni Mistress's Lil Plaything
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Profile
Bernadette Crisptongue, better known as 'Bernie' to those around her. A healthy young female goblin who is just passing out of adolescence and ready to take her place in the larger world. Short in height compared to most other races, Bernie is however considered quite tall for a goblin usually standing several inches taller than most of her peers. Her father attributed this unusual feature to the effect of magical glowies found in ancient ruins, which he placed beside her bed at nigtht to bring long life and good health to his precious child.
She normally wears heavy, durable clothing which can withstand the odd unplanned explosion which may happen in her vicinity, since those seem to happen quite often for some reason. On her hip, Bernie's large pouch carries the collection of tools and trinkets she has found to be useful in her tinkering, and is ever ready to pull out just the thing to tighten a bolt, loosen a screw or smash an uncooperative piece of metal with.
She also has a pair of specially treated goggles, passed down from her father, which can detect 'magical energies' emanating from 'glowies', a term he used for any mineral, plant or ancient device which showed a telltale light emission when viewed through the lenses.
A charm given to her by Bernie's mother, taking the form of a thin piece of metal suspended in liquid and housed inside a bubble of toughened glass, always hangs around Bernie's neck as a reminder of the people she's left behind. The metal sliver almost always points in the same direction, no matter which way Bernie turns, and one day will help guide her back home.
She normally wears heavy, durable clothing which can withstand the odd unplanned explosion which may happen in her vicinity, since those seem to happen quite often for some reason. On her hip, Bernie's large pouch carries the collection of tools and trinkets she has found to be useful in her tinkering, and is ever ready to pull out just the thing to tighten a bolt, loosen a screw or smash an uncooperative piece of metal with.
She also has a pair of specially treated goggles, passed down from her father, which can detect 'magical energies' emanating from 'glowies', a term he used for any mineral, plant or ancient device which showed a telltale light emission when viewed through the lenses.
A charm given to her by Bernie's mother, taking the form of a thin piece of metal suspended in liquid and housed inside a bubble of toughened glass, always hangs around Bernie's neck as a reminder of the people she's left behind. The metal sliver almost always points in the same direction, no matter which way Bernie turns, and one day will help guide her back home.
OOC: It's a compass. 
Biography
Daughter of a pair of forward thinking, if slightly dimwitted, goblins Bernie grew up alongside her parents, trawling through the ruins of the Old World looking for what they referred to as 'Shinies' and 'Glowies'. Shinies were generally any piece of metal or glass which seemed to be something other than a natural formation which her mother Jangles took an interest to, while glowies were a special type of material which Bernie's father Crispy identified as interesting with his special 'seeing eyes' which he wore almost constantly. Crispy got his name from his habit to tasting these items, running his tongue over them in order to categorise their specific nature, which over the years ended up with his tongue becoming more than a little burnt from its exposure to them.
From infancy Bernie was exposed to technological marvels, even if those marvels were dead and lifeless, and as soon as she was old enough to hold a hammer she was dismantling them to find out how they worked. For some reason, perhaps due to the glowies her father let her play with as a child and used to decorate her bedroom, Bernie found it much easier to understand the working of these strange, ancient devices than the other goblins living around her, and soon began raiding her mother's collection of shinies and her father's glowies to build new contraptions with varying levels of success.
She grew to love tinkering with the things her parents brought to her from their expeditions into the old ruins, taking the broken pieces of the Old World and bringing her creations to life by trial and error. Even if that life took the form of a rapidly expanding mass of energised gases and ballistically propelled metal fragments.
Something was missing though, and Bernie knew there was more to learn about where the old machines came from, and what they were capable of, than anyone in her small goblin settlement could teach her. And so packing her belongings in a pack, the bold young goblin set out into the world to seek someone who could teach her more, and to discover new and more exciting ways to explosively detonate things. Before departing, her father bequeathed his prized 'seeing eyes' to Bernie while her mother gifted her with a small metal trinket which always pointed in the direction of her home, making her promise to return the precious items to them someday, once her journey was over.
From infancy Bernie was exposed to technological marvels, even if those marvels were dead and lifeless, and as soon as she was old enough to hold a hammer she was dismantling them to find out how they worked. For some reason, perhaps due to the glowies her father let her play with as a child and used to decorate her bedroom, Bernie found it much easier to understand the working of these strange, ancient devices than the other goblins living around her, and soon began raiding her mother's collection of shinies and her father's glowies to build new contraptions with varying levels of success.
She grew to love tinkering with the things her parents brought to her from their expeditions into the old ruins, taking the broken pieces of the Old World and bringing her creations to life by trial and error. Even if that life took the form of a rapidly expanding mass of energised gases and ballistically propelled metal fragments.
Something was missing though, and Bernie knew there was more to learn about where the old machines came from, and what they were capable of, than anyone in her small goblin settlement could teach her. And so packing her belongings in a pack, the bold young goblin set out into the world to seek someone who could teach her more, and to discover new and more exciting ways to explosively detonate things. Before departing, her father bequeathed his prized 'seeing eyes' to Bernie while her mother gifted her with a small metal trinket which always pointed in the direction of her home, making her promise to return the precious items to them someday, once her journey was over.
Relationships
Family - Crispy Crisptongue, father. An elderly scavenger and hoarder living in Bernie's hometown, specialising in the identification and collection of electrical and radioactively emissive materials.
Family - Jangles Crisptongue, mother. A kindly old scavenger and trader living in Bernie's hometown, specialising in ancient machine parts and metal fragments.
Ally (potentially) - Unknown Engineer. Bernie has heard rumours spoken of an expert in all things mechanical and electrical somewhere out in the world. While she lacks any real clues as to this person's location, or even their identity, finding them would make her quest for knowledge far easier.
Rivals - 'Umies and 'Eadaches. As a Greenskin, most Humans and Elves, and a number of Beastfolk, tend to look down on Bernie, underestimating her intelligence and ability simply because of her skin colour.
Family - Jangles Crisptongue, mother. A kindly old scavenger and trader living in Bernie's hometown, specialising in ancient machine parts and metal fragments.
Ally (potentially) - Unknown Engineer. Bernie has heard rumours spoken of an expert in all things mechanical and electrical somewhere out in the world. While she lacks any real clues as to this person's location, or even their identity, finding them would make her quest for knowledge far easier.
Rivals - 'Umies and 'Eadaches. As a Greenskin, most Humans and Elves, and a number of Beastfolk, tend to look down on Bernie, underestimating her intelligence and ability simply because of her skin colour.
Tenslashsix Innocent Bystander
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
Jiwari Farwalker -- Tortoisefolk -- Mountain Evergreen Tortoisefolk
Profile
By the measure of Tortoisefolk Farwalker has only just begun his adult life at a meer two-hundred thirty eight years of age. The Mountain Evergreen Tortoisefolk are an uncommon species rarely seen further than a few miles from the place they are born. Most of his kin have long since given up moving and simply become an organism attached to the earth, destined to grow in place. Jiwari after the style of his people has grown to a decent size in his sedentary lifestyle. The tree growing from his rocky exterior has reached a venerable and stately size for its age. The few creatures that call him home are well used to his every few years wanderlust. The trio of metallic ravens consistently nattering and mocking anything that is nearby. The family of stone squirrels that have made the tree and foliage upon his shell their home. The ever-irritated half honey badger half poisonous porcupine who stubbornly refuses to be left behind. And the nucleus of Jiwaris' menagerie of mutated creatures a chameleon Chousingha, a small deer like creature with four prong horns extending from its head. Jiwari enjoys the company of his mind-linked minions living upon his craggy surface.
Biography
Farwalker as expected of a Tortoisefolk is somewhat stoic and proper. That being said a long association with his ravens and squirrels has given him a rather dry sense of humor unlike most of his kind. This comedic enjoyment is quite possibly why he has chosen to wander down off the mountain breaking with long held tradition. The weathered stone of Jiwaris shell and thick rock infused hide has made him quite tough, although he is typically rather non-violent. The same cannot be said for a few of the creatures living upon his moving scenery. Often enough some poor creature makes the mistake of upsetting Turin (the porcupine badger) and receiving a storm of poisonous quills in response. Though he possesses the ability to rise and walk upon the lowest of his four sets of limbs Jiwari trundles along placidly not disturbing the habitat that has flourished upon his back. Farwalkers greatest strengths of course being the symbiosis between the variety of minions he carries and a penchant for snapping up then swallowing whole creatures who begin to threaten him or his adopted family. Requiring no more than his tree to live, water, especially deep or moving water is the Mountain Tortoisefolks primary fear. The sheer weight of a stone Tortoisefolk is not made for swimming after all.
Relationships
I have a collab in the makings, we will post it when its finished. @Genni @World of Terra
The Narrator The friendly Voice inside your Head
Member
Seen
7 days ago
Roach CCCXXVII, the Bugman
Profile
The Bugman known as Roach is about 1,80cm in height and blessed with a muscular physique. He is a bugman from the Underkingdom, Roachmen most people call them. Roachmen don't get especially old and Roach himself is with about his 24 years of age considered a fully grown adult. His whole body is covered in dirty orange/brownish chitin with several small spikes piercing out of it.
Biography
Roach was born in the Underkingdom a gigantic almost anarchic realm of Roachmen located in gigantic underground tunnels that may have had some use to the ancient ones some millennia ago. The Roachmen are neither known for their ingenuity, orderliness or their sense for beauty, so the Underkingdom is a stinking, ugly and dark place filled with poorly constructed buildings and social disorder.
It was here that Roach was born as the 327th son of his clan, thus being named Roach CCCXXVII. He was taller and broader that all his brothers and sisters and always out for trouble. Live in the Underkingdom is always a live of only the bare necessities for most of the population but Roachmen don't need much to survive. Roach worked like all members of his clan, farming cave-growing fungi and hunting whatever sickly mutant creatures life in the tunnels. When he started maturing however he discovered his actual talent, punching.
Roach got into a new fight every day, knocking someones teeth out and loosing a few himself. But he got better every day, eventually getting hired by a local baron as muscle. While this part of Roaches life is a time he remembers fondly, it was also not to last. It did not take long until he destroyed his own little paradise by accidentally breaking the wrong arm and he was hunted.
With little other choice Roach escaped to the Overworld hoping to start again.
Roach is a very talented brawler, comfortable with a number of blunt weapons but mostly relying on his lovably named junk-axe Susie. His Chitin also offers him quite the defence against most blunt force. Even though he has wings the are not very usefull for long distances and he only uses them for short jumps or boosts of speed.
It was here that Roach was born as the 327th son of his clan, thus being named Roach CCCXXVII. He was taller and broader that all his brothers and sisters and always out for trouble. Live in the Underkingdom is always a live of only the bare necessities for most of the population but Roachmen don't need much to survive. Roach worked like all members of his clan, farming cave-growing fungi and hunting whatever sickly mutant creatures life in the tunnels. When he started maturing however he discovered his actual talent, punching.
Roach got into a new fight every day, knocking someones teeth out and loosing a few himself. But he got better every day, eventually getting hired by a local baron as muscle. While this part of Roaches life is a time he remembers fondly, it was also not to last. It did not take long until he destroyed his own little paradise by accidentally breaking the wrong arm and he was hunted.
With little other choice Roach escaped to the Overworld hoping to start again.
Roach is a very talented brawler, comfortable with a number of blunt weapons but mostly relying on his lovably named junk-axe Susie. His Chitin also offers him quite the defence against most blunt force. Even though he has wings the are not very usefull for long distances and he only uses them for short jumps or boosts of speed.
Relationships
WIP
Heat Hey, nice marmot
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
Krik, The Lizardfolk
Profile
Krik is a blue skinned hairless reptile, clad in a short robe. He is twenty one years old, his short-lived species rarely living longer than fifty years. His long tail makes up nearly half his body length, it is detachable in case of serious danger, taking two weeks to grow back entirely. His frame is slender and scaly, parts of it dotted with light grey patches of color. Standing roughly five and a half feet in height when on two feet, the diminutive lizard-man does not throw around his weight often. He walks with his hardy wooden staff in hand, when on all fours it slips onto his back. Around his shoulder swings a leather parcel full of tools and papers. His long two pronged tongue often flickers out from his mouth, sensing the environment around him.
Biography
Always a quiet child ever since he was a hatchling, Krik was born into a nest with his twenty other siblings in the hotter desert area of Terra. His parents left as soon as Krik and his kin emerged from their shells. A lizardfolk's life is an independent one, and one they must fight for the moment they are hatched. The agile Krik made a beeline for a cavern, taking refuge there as natural predators began to descend upon his brothers and sisters. The reptile reached adulthood by his fifth year, one of the few benefits of being a short-lived being. His youngest years were spent feeding on small insects and avoiding predators, growing with each passing year. He never knew his siblings, nor his parents, the solitude never hitting him until his older days.
Exposed to radiation early on, Krik was lucky to live and managed to develop powers. Even as has grown older he has yet to understand them completely. It was partly was what led him into becoming a medicine man, his magical talents enabling him to heal injuries, mend broken bones and effectively save lives. More debilitating illness and afflictions are beyond his abilities, as is death. He is a healer, not a necromancer. The curious lizard has spent many years traveling the land of Terra, exploring and healing people across towns and villages. A kindhearted being, Krik never demanded exorbitant fees for his services, often healing beggars and orphans free of charge. Money is not something which concerns nor interests him greatly, as long as he is able to purchase essentials such as food then he does not worry about monetary things.
Krik has kept a constant journal of his travels, detailing extensively the illnesses and ailments he's encountered. In his wandering he has managed to avoid serious danger, a fine tuned sense of smell and sharpened eyes allowing him to avoid direct combat. An admitted pacifist, Krik has pledged to save life, never to take one. He always tries to avoid combat, not out of cowardice but rather due to intense dislike of it. Knowing fully of his short lifespan, the lizardman continues to explore and heal those in need, satisfying his curious mind.
Exposed to radiation early on, Krik was lucky to live and managed to develop powers. Even as has grown older he has yet to understand them completely. It was partly was what led him into becoming a medicine man, his magical talents enabling him to heal injuries, mend broken bones and effectively save lives. More debilitating illness and afflictions are beyond his abilities, as is death. He is a healer, not a necromancer. The curious lizard has spent many years traveling the land of Terra, exploring and healing people across towns and villages. A kindhearted being, Krik never demanded exorbitant fees for his services, often healing beggars and orphans free of charge. Money is not something which concerns nor interests him greatly, as long as he is able to purchase essentials such as food then he does not worry about monetary things.
Krik has kept a constant journal of his travels, detailing extensively the illnesses and ailments he's encountered. In his wandering he has managed to avoid serious danger, a fine tuned sense of smell and sharpened eyes allowing him to avoid direct combat. An admitted pacifist, Krik has pledged to save life, never to take one. He always tries to avoid combat, not out of cowardice but rather due to intense dislike of it. Knowing fully of his short lifespan, the lizardman continues to explore and heal those in need, satisfying his curious mind.
Relationships
- Family - Krik has never met a single one of his relatives, nor would he even recognize them if he met them.
- He has traveled through many smaller settlements across Terra, his status as a healer making him friends of those he's healed.
CaliforniaState Biologist
Member
Seen
5 hrs ago
⚘ With the world left in desolation, the land had been left in a state most destitute. What could thrive in a world so harsh and unforgiving? Like all the life, the first to flourish and blossom were those of the plant folk. Strong in their growth and constant evolution to ensure their survival, their race and affiliation has lent itself to being the oldest of the four great races. Solanaceae, the first of her name, was born with roots tethered to the world before it was lost. Her age is unaccounted for, but it’s safe to assume she lingers in the field of centuries, her secrets unknown. As her name entails, Solanaceae is of the Night Shade family. Those who hail from this house are known for their poisonous and toxic behavior, one suitable to rule as a monarch. As far as her appearance, Solanaceae has seen fit to match the humanoid characteristics the rest of the races have adapted to. This is not without retaining some semblance of her floral aesthetic.
Solanaceae has quite the slender yet thick figure, less as a necessity but more of a tool to appeal to the weak race of men. Her skin is a creamy almost peach colored tone with veins of green coursing through her skin. Like most seductress’ her outfit is scantily clad, an assortment of leaves seem to bud from her female anatomy; securing her busty and supple bosom, her shapely posterior, and rounding out to the front and sides or her pelvic/hip region. Instead of hair she instead has a pseudo mane of roots/vines, a floral crown of four petals at the front, an appearance and structure much the same of half an open flower. The hues and cascading shades of her petals and leaves are all vibrant colors of purple. From a deep violet blue to a light lavender, the aesthetic kissing her skin. Do not let her beauty distract you from her slender digits equipped with rather long and sharp nails, similar to a stiletto knife or the heels of her feet. A queen as potent as her name.
Solanaceae has quite the slender yet thick figure, less as a necessity but more of a tool to appeal to the weak race of men. Her skin is a creamy almost peach colored tone with veins of green coursing through her skin. Like most seductress’ her outfit is scantily clad, an assortment of leaves seem to bud from her female anatomy; securing her busty and supple bosom, her shapely posterior, and rounding out to the front and sides or her pelvic/hip region. Instead of hair she instead has a pseudo mane of roots/vines, a floral crown of four petals at the front, an appearance and structure much the same of half an open flower. The hues and cascading shades of her petals and leaves are all vibrant colors of purple. From a deep violet blue to a light lavender, the aesthetic kissing her skin. Do not let her beauty distract you from her slender digits equipped with rather long and sharp nails, similar to a stiletto knife or the heels of her feet. A queen as potent as her name.
⚘ No one knows the exact advent of the plant folk, timelines have been lost or skewed along the way. What’s known, is how ancient the civilization are and the constant festering of new rivalries and in-fighting between other species of plants. Like most plants, Solanaceae was born into the world through pollen guided by animals or the soothing breeze of the wind. But before we arrive to her legacy, we must first encounter the civilization and formation of the plant kingdom. As history likes to repeat itself, it took form in the formation of plant folk in the third age. Much like the first age there was one ancient civilization to emerge as the first peak city to entertain the thought of philosophy, democracy, and general advancement. However, this wasn’t the only city to exist within the “not so unified” kingdom of flora. There were several city-states that took form around the surrounding country, some were filled with peasants and traders, while others relied solely on procreation and an armed militia, others remained isolated to their own fates.
On both sides, the Flora Kingdom neighbored the Fungi Country and the Country that housed the Leekfolk and Radishfolk. Solanaceae’s kingdom was at constant war with the neighboring Fungi across the sea. After narrowly escaping demise from the Fungi kingdom, with help from the adjacent militia state, hubris took root. Eventually, the hubris gained from repelling their greatest adversary led to their demise. Seeking to gain power and the failure of democracy led to the city-states at constant war with each other. Having the Radishfolk take notice of this, left them with the opportunity to seize and conqueror the Floral Kingdom. As the kingdom suffered a grueling defeat, there would be one reprieve from this war, Solanaceae. Being the sole offspring of the Floral Monarch, she quickly took head of the affairs regarding her country. What her ancestors before her failed to do, she managed to accomplish with grace. Solanaceae unified every city-state within the once expansive kingdom and began to forge anew. Schools of thought were resurrected, nobles and workers a-like were turned into pure warriors, as Sol made strategy take precedence.
A Queen as ruthless and cunning as Sol, was exactly what the country needed. There were no leaders who possessed some disgraceful qualities that helped conquer their worlds. With her rule absolute and her power divine, she marched on the lands of radish folk and sacked multiple cities while leaving them ablaze. Whatever weapons or inventions she had never seen, became integrated in her Kingdom along with its people, the rest were not so lucky. Becoming the greatest ruler to grace their Kingdom, Sol’s ego had marginally increased. Rather than reproduce and name a new ruler, Sol saw it fit for her to be reincarnated and continue to lead her people into the future. This bled over year after year with no hindrance or failure, thus leading her people to believe she was blessed by a higher power to lead. To this day Sol seeks to conquer the remaining plant kingdom and usher in a Pax Flora as one unified force. Yet, will her coercion and posturing be enough to cover the blinders she has set on the world beyond?
On both sides, the Flora Kingdom neighbored the Fungi Country and the Country that housed the Leekfolk and Radishfolk. Solanaceae’s kingdom was at constant war with the neighboring Fungi across the sea. After narrowly escaping demise from the Fungi kingdom, with help from the adjacent militia state, hubris took root. Eventually, the hubris gained from repelling their greatest adversary led to their demise. Seeking to gain power and the failure of democracy led to the city-states at constant war with each other. Having the Radishfolk take notice of this, left them with the opportunity to seize and conqueror the Floral Kingdom. As the kingdom suffered a grueling defeat, there would be one reprieve from this war, Solanaceae. Being the sole offspring of the Floral Monarch, she quickly took head of the affairs regarding her country. What her ancestors before her failed to do, she managed to accomplish with grace. Solanaceae unified every city-state within the once expansive kingdom and began to forge anew. Schools of thought were resurrected, nobles and workers a-like were turned into pure warriors, as Sol made strategy take precedence.
A Queen as ruthless and cunning as Sol, was exactly what the country needed. There were no leaders who possessed some disgraceful qualities that helped conquer their worlds. With her rule absolute and her power divine, she marched on the lands of radish folk and sacked multiple cities while leaving them ablaze. Whatever weapons or inventions she had never seen, became integrated in her Kingdom along with its people, the rest were not so lucky. Becoming the greatest ruler to grace their Kingdom, Sol’s ego had marginally increased. Rather than reproduce and name a new ruler, Sol saw it fit for her to be reincarnated and continue to lead her people into the future. This bled over year after year with no hindrance or failure, thus leading her people to believe she was blessed by a higher power to lead. To this day Sol seeks to conquer the remaining plant kingdom and usher in a Pax Flora as one unified force. Yet, will her coercion and posturing be enough to cover the blinders she has set on the world beyond?
⚘ Family - No known direct relative due to preservation of Sol's reign. Extended family are quite possible, but foreign to her knowledge.
⚘ Rival - Any rival flower kingdom (Fungi, Radish, Leek, etc) who have Sol or her country marked as a prize to conquer.
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