Basically, I have an idea that I think is rather neat. To sum it up, in a fantasy world, in a land called Arkonia, King Uther, referred to by the rebels as the Mad King, has reigned for the past few years, with no end in sight. The players, who will be heroes (or at least enemies of Uther), seek to end his reign despite being doggedly hunted by Nicolo, Uther's right hand man. Besides that, I want other people to help create this world. I'm looking for a medium group, maybe 5-7 people (give or take). If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Now here's a little tidbit I wrote from the perspective of the rebel hunter Nicolo:
It had been a long time since King Harold of Arkonia had died. A long time since the rebellion, a long time since King Uther had taken reign. The most prosperous kingdom in the land, brought to its knees by the mad king, was now rising back from the dead, its once-noble warriors now vicious and malevolent. It used to be that the most kind, the most intelligent, the most honorable were chosen to be leaders; now it is those with power, those who wield the magic. King Uther, using undead warriors and his fellow mages, now ruled with an iron fist. His tyranny seemed without end.
At least, that’s what a rebel would say. And Nicolo was no rebel.
Nicolo rose from kneeling, bowing to the king. King Uther was imposing despite being hidden behind the curtain in the royal throne room. The lights were kept dark, allowing one to only see King Uther’s vague outline.
Nicolo turned and walked slowly out of the room. He could feel the raw necromantic energy emanating from Uther until the doors slammed shut behind him. Nicolo couldn’t help but allow himself a small yet grim smile. He was Uther’s right hand, not leading the armies nor the cloaked Holy Men, yet somehow above those who did. He himself was well versed in necromancy, yet he was more warrior than mage. Who would have imagined a half-shifter as the right hand of the king?
It took a while for Nicolo to reach the lower chambers of the castle. As he entered the dungeons, two Holy Men appeared, guiding him to the prisoner’s cell. The first thing he saw as he entered the cell was the prisoner, curled up in the corner, shivering with the cold.
The prisoner, now humbled, had once been a leader of a band of rebels, rebels who had caused Uther a great deal of irritation. While the prisoner- a man named Waylon - was a competent mage, he had simply been caught off guard and outmatched by two dozen soldiers and four Holy Men. Nicolo strode up to Waylon.
"It's time," Nicolo growled. He unsheathed his blade, an exotic thing called a katana. It was not a blade native to Arkonia; it had been a gift to Uther by the Emperor to the far east.
Waylon uncurled himself, slowly standing with shaking limbs. Scars were emblazoned across his bare back, evidence of what the man had been through. "I suppose you will not be needing anything else from me," he mumbled.
"We know everything we need to know," Nicolo said shortly.
Waylon took a deep breathe, closing his eyes. He said, "I am -" and then was interrupted by the katana slicing cleanly through his throat. Waylon fell, clutching at his throat. Nicolo watched over him with cold, almost uninterested eyes.
It was a few minutes later when Nicolo left the cell. Executing the prisoner was not the only order Uther gave him, so Nicolo was better off gathering his men and leaving as soon as possible.
After all, someone had to put down the rebellion.
Now here's a little tidbit I wrote from the perspective of the rebel hunter Nicolo:
--~--
It had been a long time since King Harold of Arkonia had died. A long time since the rebellion, a long time since King Uther had taken reign. The most prosperous kingdom in the land, brought to its knees by the mad king, was now rising back from the dead, its once-noble warriors now vicious and malevolent. It used to be that the most kind, the most intelligent, the most honorable were chosen to be leaders; now it is those with power, those who wield the magic. King Uther, using undead warriors and his fellow mages, now ruled with an iron fist. His tyranny seemed without end.
At least, that’s what a rebel would say. And Nicolo was no rebel.
Nicolo rose from kneeling, bowing to the king. King Uther was imposing despite being hidden behind the curtain in the royal throne room. The lights were kept dark, allowing one to only see King Uther’s vague outline.
Nicolo turned and walked slowly out of the room. He could feel the raw necromantic energy emanating from Uther until the doors slammed shut behind him. Nicolo couldn’t help but allow himself a small yet grim smile. He was Uther’s right hand, not leading the armies nor the cloaked Holy Men, yet somehow above those who did. He himself was well versed in necromancy, yet he was more warrior than mage. Who would have imagined a half-shifter as the right hand of the king?
It took a while for Nicolo to reach the lower chambers of the castle. As he entered the dungeons, two Holy Men appeared, guiding him to the prisoner’s cell. The first thing he saw as he entered the cell was the prisoner, curled up in the corner, shivering with the cold.
The prisoner, now humbled, had once been a leader of a band of rebels, rebels who had caused Uther a great deal of irritation. While the prisoner- a man named Waylon - was a competent mage, he had simply been caught off guard and outmatched by two dozen soldiers and four Holy Men. Nicolo strode up to Waylon.
"It's time," Nicolo growled. He unsheathed his blade, an exotic thing called a katana. It was not a blade native to Arkonia; it had been a gift to Uther by the Emperor to the far east.
Waylon uncurled himself, slowly standing with shaking limbs. Scars were emblazoned across his bare back, evidence of what the man had been through. "I suppose you will not be needing anything else from me," he mumbled.
"We know everything we need to know," Nicolo said shortly.
Waylon took a deep breathe, closing his eyes. He said, "I am -" and then was interrupted by the katana slicing cleanly through his throat. Waylon fell, clutching at his throat. Nicolo watched over him with cold, almost uninterested eyes.
It was a few minutes later when Nicolo left the cell. Executing the prisoner was not the only order Uther gave him, so Nicolo was better off gathering his men and leaving as soon as possible.
After all, someone had to put down the rebellion.
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