They say the rains that flooded the world began four centuries ago. By the accounts of some scholars it was five. It was a deluge that began not without our knowing, having wrought it upon ourselves by our own making. It was atonement for the sins of humanity, whose vast and glorious empires dominated the world. The glittering lances of our knights and champions were hoisted defiantly against all those who would challenge their nobility. All had succumbed to their pride, lent their hearts over to their emperors and their Worldly Gods. And that when the great world spirits saw what had become of mankind they sought to punish humanity and sent great beasts.
But these monsters were not seen as a collective punishment, not by man. No, the lands they dragged their tails through and the villages they scorched was not a mere punishment. But a challenge. The billowing earth-shattering calls the great serpents issued were not a warning to the proud of heart and the vile of intention but a challenge. The self obsessed grandees took to them like the horns of war and the tourney. For over a century valiant souls set forth and one by one slew the beasts in combat and through treachery until man claimed ultimate victory and the divine beasts were laid upon the earth and their bodies salted the soil as they boiled in necrosis.
But the gods, stricken and taken aback saw what man had become, beyond their control and their capacity to rule through their divine providence. In their wisdom they felt shame. In their humility they felt sorrow. For their creations, small to terrible they wept for the sinful curse that had fallen man and their tears fell upon the world in a torrential rain. A rain which did not relent and as it poured across all four corners it began to sweep aside civilization in a flood. At once the men who had proclaimed themselves gods were without realms. The Emperors watched as they fled as their territories were broken and washed into the growing great sea at each fall of the raindrop. Mankind was sent into retreat and crowding onto shrinking high grounds they fought to escape the tide, entire people's forced into one another in a retreat of tragic poetry. The terminal sounds of war clang out under thundering storm clouds as a century of battle as kings lead their retinues to war against one another, always seeking to stay one step ahead of the other. The boots and hooves of men and horses turned the ground and weakened it until it too was washed away into the great rivers and made them greater. The gentle slide of marble palaces and granite castles crumbled away into broiling froth.
As the waters rose mankind scrambled upon its rocks, where sitting perched as the sirens they rose their heads to sing their invective rage against the great gale. With no more man to fight, and the rains washing away the civilization of man the barbarity of the gluttony and pride they had so carried revealed themselves to be barbarism and there was naught but anger. But as the rains continued, the rage turned to remorse as greatness faded to memory, then into misery as the sirens of man became husks in their meager existence. Finally the rains ended as the misery of man became its own storm, and the gods ceased crying. As the rains ended, and the sky opened for the sun to emerge the world slowly normalized.
Though the land as it once was would never return, as the gods had released such a storm of sadness, man could again repopulate it. Coming down from their rocks they dispersed through swamps that dried to forests, and were cleared for farms, and in the centuries after kingdoms returned. Man, tempered rebuilt and saw themselves across wide channels and ocean rivers. All had not perished, and all still holds promise for further songs.
This was their new world. A world for thalassocrats.
Welcome to Children of the Thassalocracy, a medieval post-Apocalyptic RP. Centuries ago a hundred-year long rain storm washed away Empire of old, whose vast territories spanned the globe and challenged the gods themselves. In the imperial vanity of civilization, the gods sought to punish them and knock them down a peg. First in sending greats beasts to destroy them. But these beasts were eventually defeated by the knights and champions of the old world. In their sadness the gods cried and brought the rains, erasing the old world and its politics and driving life into the highlands of the world. The sea levels swelled and the rivers burst into channels as lakes became seas and mingled with the oceans. The receding waters left behind only a world of islands, which is where mankind is today.
The world now post-Deluge is the equivalent to the early or mid 15th century, having now redeveloped to suit its current and new climate. What new songs shall be written?
It is permissable to play as other races than human, but I would prefer them to be roughly human. No extremes. Elves and the like are fine, but dwarves in the typical sense of short mountain dwelling people wouldn't likely belong, we can get away with saying they either drowned in their caves or are sealed away forever due to the great rains flooding their caverns. Magic though, I would rather not dabble in that. The most I will permit is some sort of mythical, esoteric interpretations. Or even something like Magical Realism (see: Hundred Years of Solitude).
Without further ado, the app and territory map:
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