The player characters are those chosen by the remnant souls of the Legionnaires of long ago. They carry with them a small trinket, likely of no real value, that secretly harbors one of these souls: their totem. The soul speaks to them - just in subconscious whispers at first but regaining a full persona over time - guiding them towards a new fate. Over time the player characters learn to interact with their mentor souls and harness their power: the power of the wraith. Should their host allow it, the spirits can temporarily inhabit the host's body, lending them all their knowledge and mystical power for a time. While debilitatingly exhausting to the untrained, practice can allow its near-indefinite use.

These souls are not always the most benevolent creatures. After all, these are the spirits of the so-called "greatest evil to walk this world." Characters may not always see eye to eye with their companion, or they may embrace their rage. No two chosen will walk the same path.

There are twelve Legionnaires, which means there are twelve chosen including the GM's character. There are thus eleven places for players. These places will be granted based on order of CS approval. The first character sheets approved get the first slots.

Far-flung and as-of-yet unaware of just what they are chosen to be, the player characters begin finding themselves subtly drawn to a location, compelled by a force they cannot yet understand. Their totems guide them to assemble the Legion Reincarnate. Thus begins the quest to fell the great kingdoms and raise the black flag over all Avalon. The more battles waged, the more practiced and capable the reincarnate Legion becomes, but the more aware their adversaries become of their existence. The party will have to choose between toppling their greatest threats quickly through stealth and deception, or properly mastering their newfound abilities to overpower even their strongest opponents.

In some degrees, the plot for this is on rails. There are various plot elements I have planned for already and there is an ultimate end. However the amount of time between the between the beginning and the end is indeterminate. The roleplay can run for as long as interest exists. I encourage players to develop plot arcs they wish to see played out and discuss these. I will happily weave these in, as my own planning is ultimately finite, hence I will source plot content from players fairly regularly.

The world of Avalon has been heavily built out at the macro level. Nearly a millennium of history has been developed for it. However, the world is an open playground for micro-level worldbuilding. I have developed the framework sufficiently for this to exist. Players are allowed and encouraged to develop the details of the world as the roleplay progresses. This is a living project to be developed in collaboration with all those who participate. A fairly large (but far from comprehensive) overview of relevant information is included below. Additional info will be appended as people ask questions about things not already covered.

This template is not strict. You are encouraged to change colors and reformat as needed. The provided sheet is primarily a framework to present the relevant information I want and is not binding. For convenience a raw code version has also been provided.

Players are more than welcome to join after IC posting has begun. In the beginning the players will be subconsciously called to a collective spot. After the beginning, join-in-progress players will instead be led towards the main group, rather than an arbitrary location, in order to link up with the party in a timely manner. Though the party is on the run from every authority imaginable and not exactly the most trusting bunch, I will expect that to be partially handwaved in the name of swift inclusion.

In the First Age at the dawn of the great kingdoms, the Gods Above gave a great gift to the world: The Aetherwind. A magical force flowing throughout the world, focused through a single massive crystal pillar reaching towards the Heavens: The Nexus. The aether flows through the world and all living beings. Since the destruction of the Nexus, its power has diminished to a faint trickle. Before every man, woman, and child could sense and wield its energy with minimal power, but now only the greatest sorcerers of ages past can conjure meaningful power from it. The aether used to shimmer in the skies, manifesting in its physical form as an iridescent cyan shimmer, but no longer. Now it is only seen at the hands of those struggling to conjure what little they can.

Growing jealous of the admiration it won them, the dark Gods Below sought to unleash their own force upon the world which would draw the races of man to worship them. The Dark Aether as it was called (the scholars of the First Age were hardly inventive with naming things) was far less gentle than its benevolent counterpart. Its influence is corrupting and its energy is poisonous to those not prepared to resist it's effects. In contrast to its beautiful glowing opposite, the dark aether is black as night, seemingly choking the light out of anything it touches. Its study and practice is strictly forbidden by every authority on Avalon, and is prosecuted extremely harshly since the end of the First Age. Yet it is ever present and since the destruction of the Nexus, a force of unmatched power.

The capabilities of the aether is virtually limitless. Conjuring aetheric energy takes only focus and a little practice. Wielding it as an unstoppable force is a pursuit that takes a lifetime to master. It can take on an elemental aspect at the will of the summoner, though its pure form is often more powerful and precise, if requiring more practice to utilize fully. During the First Age when the Nexus existed, a single wizard could move mountains.

The Gods Above in Heaven lead the races of man along the path of righteousness and kindness. Through the Second Age the piety of the people has faded as both Gods and men turned their backs unto one another. The Third Age has arrived as prophesied, and some archpriests claim the Gods Above have spoken, warning them of a coming great darkness. In their arrogance, lords and kings have ignored these warnings, believing the prophecy to be the last taunt of the defeated.

The Gods Below in Hell appeal to the basest desires of men, channelling power through lust and rage. Most who succumb to the temptation of powerlust are torn apart by the power of the dark aether they summon. Those who are not are found, sniffed out by the sorcerers of royal courts and practitioners of a bygone era who can sense the channeling of aether, light and dark alike. No one has since regained the godlike power of the twelve legionnaires ... until now.

As the races of man flocked to the Gods Above in droves in praise of the gift bestowed upon Avalon, the Gods Below grew jealous of their kin. Thus came the dark aether into Avalon: a blazing wind of malevolent energy that few could harness without being destroyed, but capable of infinite power. There were twelve who felt its strength and sought to harness it. The twelve were the first true followers of the dark ways. These twelve became the Shadow Legion: the most devastating force ever to exist in the world of Avalon.

Summoning the power of the Gods Below they served, they conjured army of horrors they unleashed in their wake, ravaging the lands and razing whole cities. No army in Avalon could contest them on open ground, yet the great strongholds still repelled their siege, marching dark energies with the light. To finally crush those who opposed their conquest they sought to destroy the aetherwinds, rending their enemys’ power from them and paving the way to victory. The Nexus needed to be corrupted, forced to channel the burning powers of dark aether and opening the doorway to the Gods Below to walk this realm.

Following their defeat, the Legionnaires were imprisoned and set to be executed. Before the sentence could be carried out, the twelve forged a hex upon the world, a prophecy of their return sealed with the remnants of their powers: “Bodies may bleed and wither and die. The souls of Shadow shall live on into eternity. Avalon may know victory and peace for five hundred years ... before the return. The souls of Shadow will return from exile to reclaim this world. Their hosts will know power like no other. We will rise ... to tear your world down.”

The races of Avalon all share a common genealogy, tracing lineage back through millennia. They all stem from the common man, but being the tribal creatures men are, their growing divergence often led to growing separation, and thus greater divergence with time. Nonetheless, that common ancestry could once unite the entire world when it was most needed. Only time will tell if it can be done again.

Contemporary Human: As Flawed as Ever

Wrelmsmen: Nature is Not the Enemy (elven/drow archetype)

Northmen: Hardened in Fire (dwarven archetype)

Orcs: That Cannot be of This World

The Vahkranite Imperium of Man: Peace Through Power

Braldurheim: Eternal as the Mountains

The Alliance of Free Cities: To Rise Above

The War Tribes: WAAAAAAAAAGH!

The Bastion of Wrelm: But a Myth

The First Age, the age of the aetherwind, lasted for two centuries before it came crashing down in a cataclysmic destruction. No one foresaw the coming destruction until the armies of the Shadow Legion - an unending horde of monsters and apparitions summoned from the dark Gods Below themselves - marched on Dawnguard itself to topple the great Kingdom of Vahkran. Only as half the empire burned in their wake was an answer found. The crowns gathered, rallying every wizard, witch, and warlock to do battle at the Nexus, a site the Legion sought to conquer and corrupt for themselves. Even at the very source of their power, this Righteous Army of Avalon could not hold them at bay. As a last resort, their combined efforts channeled aetheric power back through the Nexus, and the resultant surge of energy purged the Legionnaires of their abilities to channel the dark aether, at the cost of shattering the great crystal in the process.

The day was won, but only at a terrible price. Two whole kingdoms lay ruined, their people scattered. The city of Silverwick, capitol of Illya, was a scorched crater. The sister kingdom of Arc'zhaan was also shattered. Neither would recover from the diaspora, being relegated to a distant memory and a footnote in history. The Great Kingdom of Wrelm also suffered greatly at the hands of the Legion's army, though the people of Wrelm Forest fared better than their plainsfolk brethren.

The Second Age: In the wake of the defeat of the Shadow Legion, the world of Avalon did come to know peace as prophesized, but it was not to last. After two centuries of rebuilding the world without the power of the aether, a new threat presented itself. Brutal subhuman beasts from somewhere beyond Avalon arrived on the shores. The orc war tribes razed for sport, crushing any settlement they could and leaving nothing but burned, bludgeoned, dismembered corpses among the flaming wreckage. Some said this was the return of the Legion, a final curse they placed upon the world. Fearing for their lives, many of the remaining treefolk fled the Wrelm Forests to the free cities. They simply could not rebuild their serene bastions in time without their mystical power. Those who stayed were believed to be killed by orcs, but one after another different war tribes went into the forests of Wrelm, but never came out. Legend has it that the inhabitants were practitioners of the dark aether. Most believe such a thing is impossible, as the influence of the Gods Below would corrupt and destroy them.

Most of the kingdoms of man never successfully rebuilt after being scattered by the Legion’s march across Avalon. During this time, their descendants founded and grew great cities in the plainslands, uniting under the Alliance of Free Cities. They too, were forced to raise walls and garrisons to defend against the brutish hordes that ravaged villages without warning. All the while, fueled by paranoia, the Imperium of Man grew. Some say that the allegedly-illegitimate ruling family is certain of the Legion’s prophecy. Most in Avalon have since dismissed it as folly.

The Third Age: Five hundred years have passed since the legion’s defeat. Their souls have wandered all of Avalon floating from trinket to trinket, passing from person to person, all the while waiting and searching for their heirs. The people have dismissed it, yet the prophecy comes true all the same. The Legion has returned to once again rewrite the world order.