Fyn Makdavi Vail. Is the second son to Her Majesty Vail the II. Considering the bloody events of the recent civil war and the killing of the nobility, the daughter of the deceased Emperor Vail gathered support from the rising merchant class in return for greater rights and freedoms. She arrived as a third force and quickly swallowed up her sister and brother who had expended the bulk of their strength against each other. Subjugating the religious officials and extinguishing the nobility, Her Majesty rapidly consolidated her power and played the merchants against each other. While they stood divided over different issues she worked to undermine the new political system and restore her absolute monarchy.

Queen Vail eventually succeeded, but not before some of the outlying territories succeeded under the influence of the surviving nobility and disillusioned merchant families. The once vast kingdom of Faolain stands divided now between Old Faolain and the smaller Clarmort Provinces. Neither side having the strength to continue the conflict created an unsettling peace between them. Hostilities are still strong and trade between the two nations is all but forgotten.

The Queen has three children by her late husband. The eldest, and heir to the throne as stated by her rewriting of the law, is her daughter Elizabeth. Who prefers to take on the role of a warrior to the traditional traits of ladyship. She is very much her father’s daughter, born to grasp things beyond her station. Elizabeth has dedicated herself to the honor code of knighthood. Her skill with the blade and understanding of war is unmatched.

Her middle child is Emeil. He is of a noble and peaceful character, born to be the diplomat and mediator. His disposition for fairness and charity has made him a favorite among the masses. He is intelligent and thoughtful. He is not as brash as his older sister and prefers to take an indirect approach when confronting conflict. His quick wit and clever political maneuvers made him a natural follower of his mother.

Her youngest is Fyn. Fyn Makdavi Vail to be precise. He grew up in the shadow of his brother and sister. While Elizabeth took after her father in the ways of combat, his brother Emeil was praised for his naturally pleasing demeanor and rapid understanding of his lessons from tutors. Fyn got to enjoy the hidden state of being unimportant. With all the events going on around his young life, and being out shown by his older siblings, he faded somewhat into an after thought. It was in that loneliness that he learned the value of being overshadowed. The secrecy, that loneliness afforded him, allowed him to learn about the things that happened behind the scenes and about the darker things in the human heart. He learned of the dissent that rested over the two kingdoms. And Fyn understands well the hunger that resides in every fellow coveting heart.

Character.

Name: Fyn Makdavi Vail
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: (The closest I could find.) imgur.com/eMNRo
Personal History: He grew up in the shadow of his brother and sister. While Elizabeth took after her father in the ways of combat, his brother Emeil was praised for his natural pleasing demeanor and rapid understanding of his lessons from tutors. He got to enjoy the hidden state of being unimportant. With all the events going on around his young life and being out shown by his older siblings he faded somewhat into an after thought. It was in that loneliness that he learned the value of being overshadowed. The secrecy that it afforded him allowed him to learn about the things that happened behind the scenes, and about the darker things in the human heart. He learned of the dissent that rested over the two kingdoms. And Fyn now truly understands the hunger that resides in every coveting heart.
Position and standing: Son of Her Majesty Queen Vail the II, third in line for the throne of Faolain.

Elizabeth’s appearance: imgur.com/s9NEX

Emeil’s appearance: imgur.com/kjgle

((This isn't quite advanced Sci Fi but close so that means some plot and not just characterization will be happening.))

The Dinyara are an intelligent predatory species that view all non-Dinyara as enemies. They are dark gray in color with hardened skin and rigid spiked bodies. Their males are larger and bulkier typically about six to seven feet in height. The females are smaller in height and size, but more deadly with sharpened spikes on their hands that are poisoned. Matriarchal in society the females are the center of authority and the males are often used for grunt work and open warfare. It is not uncommon however to find a female at times on the front lines.

The Manarith are a highly advanced race of diminutive stature standing only three feet in height. The have dark fur and rounded eyes. Asexual they reproduce by fertilizing each other’s eggs at hatching time. They prowl the galaxy in their ships looking to improve themselves and establish an “orderly” galaxy. They see the universe as dangerous place that must be controlled or kept at bay. They are quite skittish in nature.

The Harazin are a proud race of reptiles that view mammalians as lesser life forms. They and the Dinyara have been in conflict for generations now, but ever since the Harazin’s first attempt to enslave them there has been a constant cold war going on between them. Frequent border skirmishes keep entering their space dangerous.

The Humans are relatively new to space travel but have more than made up for it in that short time. Establishing many outlying colonies and outposts. Their relatively quick progress so soon after learning how to effectively travel through space has placed a great deal of either cautious interest or dangerous attention on them.

The Verania are a spider like race. One of the few that are not in some humanoid form, they are not really trusted by anyone. Most often they are of black appearance with powerful legs and poisonous fangs. Like most arachnids it is the females that are the larger more dangerous sex, often times reaching the size of a human in body alone they prefer to reside on their intricate webs. Their ships designed mostly though their enzymes, they are as much organic as they are technology. They are skilled in the art of hiding and masking their presence on the ground and in space.

The Alahem are a furry humanoid race that follow carefully a path to peace. They are a very religious race that always dress in simple robes, and never make aggressive moves. They seem quite content to leave others alone. They are experts in shield technology and their strategies revolve around disabling or misleading an enemy. Their wayward brothers however are a different story.

The Zig-Non are the Alahem’s distant cousins. Their culture is devoted to “the kill.” Like their brothers they dress also in the plainest of robes however underneath instead of parchment and holy texts, you will find an assassin’s array. They have little in the way of territory like their cousins the Alahem. They are however in no danger of attack, because their counters are so swift. Their ships are coated with a precious allow that helps to hide them from normal scans. And where as the Alahem are all defense, the Zig-Non believe in absolute offence. Sacrificing defense for speed. A common tactic for large enemy ships is to drive themselves through it with their smaller Kazi craft. Their life is not as important to them as is their honor of the kill. Speed and stealth are their best friends. They train their whole lives to achieve those ends.

Situation

Ever since the incident at Delta V with the Dinyara freighter hostilities have risen significantly between the Humans and the Dinyara. The discovery by a Human exploratory vessel of a mineral rich planet near the border of Dinyara Space has sparked increasing threats and fleet posturing by the Dinyara. Star, the current name of the human defense force, has not been taking the threats seriously believing that the Dinyara have too much to worry about from their cold war with the Harazin. But as a show of support to the colonies and mining worlds bordering the Dinyara Star has increased its patrols along the rim and authorized increased security on merchant and cargo ships.

The Ship

The Navi is a military surplus ship converted for exploration by a privateering Captain. Designed for deep-space missions it can comfortably accommodate a crew of ninety-five. Currently charting the Magdolan Expanse, a dense region of cloud that masks sensors readings and is dangerous to navigate at high speeds. The pay for completion of the job is poor for the risks however by Star law anything of value found belongs to the crew that discovered it and a finder’s fee would be paid for it. Greed can be a powerful motivator for progress, however as this is a military commission a token force of Star personnel are required to accompany.

Your character options

You can be Star personnel or members of the Navi’s crew or families for the roleplay. Secondary characters can be other races or if you have an idea of how to explain the presence of an alien crewmember or Star personnel then please talk to me about it privately. Most likely I will accept it.

Standard rules apply for this Roleplay.
I’ve created and own this universe it belongs to me.
Respect other players.
No God-moding.
No violating any of the site’s rules.

Character Template

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Appearance:
Personal History:
Specialization:
Combat experience:
Position and standing:
Beliefs and moral standing:
Personality:
Interests and hobbies:
Fears:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race: (Though I had originally intended only for humans, I’ll open this up in case someone wishes for more options or a second character.)
Appearance: (Either a picture or description.)
Personal History: (Family and past events worth noting.)
Specialization: (What does your character excel at or concentrate on?)
Combat experience: (This can be zero if your character’s green.)
Position and standing: (Where are you stationed and what is your rank? In regards to rank nothing to high.)
Beliefs and moral standing: (This is just here to add some depth to your character.)
Personality:
Interests and hobbies:
Fears:

Name: Zeck Philip Moriarty
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: His dirty blonde hair is kept fairly short and his eyes are a light blue of the cool sort. He’s built a medium 5’11 in size. He dresses often in form fitting black, sometimes with magazine clips strapped around his shoulder, and also a pair of comfortable slacks. Two guns are always hustled on his thighs, and his daily routines help keep his reflexes sharp and muscles strong from the hours of work.

Personal History: Born on the outer rim of a young colony he grew up with his large extended family on a farm. It was boring work being among the first to settle the planet. And he resented the fact that he was so removed from the big cities. Though life was boring it was peaceful it wasn’t until the incident with the Dinyara freighter that he felt compelled to leave his home and join the Star defense fleet.
The incident with the Dinyara freighter left some deep scars on his mind which he has to combat at times if only for the sake of others.

Specialization: Weapon specialist. He prefers to tinker and design his own weapons. Two pistols he always carries one is a modified ray gun designed to penetrate a Dinyara’s thick hide. The other is a standard 9mm Beretta Seven Strom pistol with a magazine of seventeen.

Combat experience: Other than training as a fighter pilot and in ground combat, was the time he fought in the thrown together militia against a downed Dinyara freighter’s crew on his planet.

Position and standing: Acting Warrant Officer and Private First Class
Beliefs and moral standing: Rather ridged in regards to regulations but couldn’t care less when off duty.

Personality: He can put up a good face for the sake of social grace. Cold in combat he is straight and to the point and is somewhat serious in nature. In the mess hall through he is pleasant enough. And his smile is fairly warm when seen. Has a sense of humor but doesn’t show it too often.

Interests and hobbies: He sketches things and people of interest when he has the time.
Fears: Has strong fear of heights.

*A note about Ray and Blaster guns… They may be powerful but they are expensive and inefficient for humans at their current tech level. They take time to recharge and sometimes burnout four for a pistol to twelve for a Blaster rifle is all the human versions can currently shoot.*

A Labyrinth of Wrong is a fantasy roleplay where there is no picture perfect answer to the problems. This is not a world of black and white moralities but a place filled with shades of grays. A world where prejudice is the norm and power is ever changing. Who you are and where you come from define you. Will you join with the rising power of the King of Nevithal, or do your allegiances lay with The Circle that rules from the shadows? Are you loyal to the Kingdom of Nevithal, or do you seek to further the influence of the Matriarchy? Will you support your own race above all others, or are you one of the half breeds that the Matriarchy favors? Come and play in this world of choices, see where your exploring will take you in the Labyrinth of Wrong.

1. Magic - There will be three kinds. Divine, Arcane, and Tribal. Divine of course will the related to the Gods and Goddesses being worshiped. The Matriarchy will rely on divine magic the most. Arcane the study of how the world works and of manipulating magical energies from the other realm, will fall mostly under the strict supervision of the Circle. Tribal is magic that will be derived mostly by the non human races, often very nature driven with sparks of divinity from their various Gods. Anyone can wield magic, but only the most practiced, dedicated, and focused (or devoted) can use it safely. Some do however seem more able to use it then others. Often following bloodlines. It also taxes the body and is very dangerous. Studying the bodies of dead magic users, there is a remarkably different pattern to their brains then other normal people.

2. The Circle - The ruling body of the human kingdom run, in theory, by the most powerful families. In practicality only the heads of the families or exceptionally powerful individuals have any real say in what happens. They are divided between the four, currently ruling families, each of whom serves a different God or Goddess of the four.

3. The King - Who originally was little more than a glorified general and figurehead, has become increasingly critical of The Circle. He is steadily eroding away at their authority, placing his own trusted allies and even non-humans into positions of power. Seeing as the Kingdom can't continue indefinitely as it now stands so divided, he is actively trying to integrate the various races together into a more stable unified kingdom.

4. The Priestess Caste - The ruling class that controls virtually all of the Matriarchy. Spiritually, Economically, and Politically they rule under the guidance of their beloved Goddess. Who gives her word to a presiding Matron, generally the most powerful practitioner of divine magic at the time, who then hands down the directives from the Goddess.

5. The Son - The King, who's Queen is barren, had an illegitimate son from a priestess of the rival kingdom. And that son, knowing who he is, decides to seek his fortune as a knight under his father's command. (Their relationship would have to be secret) His mother and the other priestesses are hoping to use this as leverage to gain control over the kingdom gradually, while the Circle seeks to solidify its power by removing the King all together. As for the son himself well, he has his own ambitions.

6. The Plot - A power struggle between the King, the Circle, and the Priestess Caste, with the son merely turning to his own advantage what is happening around him. Everyone else is affected because they are tools or allies to be used for one cause or another.

7. The Orcs - The Orcs are soldiers born. Strong and brave, but also heavily disciplined. When the commander speaks, a god may as well have descended from heaven and given the order himself. They have few interests of their own, though, and are loyal to whoever can offer them the best life. At the moment, that's the Humans and the Circle. They were originally created by the Elves through alchemy for use in their war against the humans long ago. Gray skinned. They clearly come from Elvish physiology, totally hairless, even the tops of their heads, but they are also about a foot taller in general and broader. Very muscular and strong jawed. Their culture is aggressively deferential. There is always a hierarchy in place; matters between two equals can come to a stalemate because neither one will ever defer to the other until someone of superior standing steps in. One's rank is earned by deeds, but must be given by a leader. Because of this the Orcish hierarchy, which was once self-governing, is now at the whim of the Circle.

8. The Gnolls - The hyena folk have been greatly reduced in number and oppressed by the Orcs who now occupy the majority of their ancestral lands. Because of the Circle's support and recognition of the Orcs' right to the Gnolls’ lands. The tribal Gnolls have been forced to remote inhospitable places, and the captive Gnolls as little more than a labor force for the Orcs. The Gnolls also claim that they were here long before any other race came to this continent.

9. The Elves - The Elves, while being long lived by any other race's standard do die. They occupy the Northern tip of the continent in a rather arid climate. The Elves were originally from the same plain as the Gods but crossed over into this mortal world. Theologians of different schools of divinity debate as to if this crossing was intentional, or rather forced by the Gods. The Elves cannot reproduce with each other, at least in the traditional sense, and their inability to do so eventually compelled them to be at war with the Humans and their Circle. A long-lived race whose means of immortality is akin to that of the Phoenix. The Elves, through use of their magic, have discovered a way to be reborn, retaining some of their memories and experience from their past lives. While not true immortality, it does make them extremely apprehensive about engaging in war. The Orcs were created to be their front-line soldiers against the increasing threat of the humans. When they were forced to surrender, due to too many Elven deaths, they handed over control of the Orcs to the Circle. While pure elves cannot mate with each other, they can mate with other races. These half breeds are then mated again to Elves to create 3/4's elves who are deemed worthy enough to join elven society. Only the pureblooded Elves however can be reincarnated. As a result, most of the Elves seen by others are not pure despite appearing so. And while still fairly long lived, are not immortal in any sense of the word but can reproduce. And so Elven society is divided into tiers based on how pure the elven blood is. As a result, half-breeds and lower are not very welcome.

10. The Matriarchy, is however quite welcoming to half-breeds. Because of their unique belief in one Goddess, any mixing of the blood is thought to be in tune with divine will. (Everything is one after all.) Controlled by the Priestess Caste, they are a highly religious and female dominated society. Often at odds with the Kingdom, they call anyone who does not worship their Goddess a heathen. The Priestess Caste performs a function similar to the circle. Under the direct command of the Goddess the Matron gives those commandments to the Priestess to carry out and enforce.

11. The Kingdom - Human dominated. Under the leadership of the Circle the human race has risen to be the most powerful on the continent. The King functions as a military general and figure head for the nation, answerable to the ruling body of Circle. Because of the vast territory and diverse subjugated tribes and non-human races living within the kingdom. The risk of uprising is ever present and is usually crushed by the King's army aided by the heavy infantry Orc horde that answer directly to the Circle. Recognizing that all empires fall, the King rather then waiting for internal pressures collapse the land from within, has begun to undermine the Circle's authority. Consolidating power by placing his allies in key position, he has also begun to allow non-humans chances to advance within the Kingdom. The Circle because of dealing with infighting and keeping tabs on the other nations activities, of which the Matriarchy is of chief concern, has been unable to contain this latest threat to its authority. Political intrigue and plots continue to grow, leaving the future of the continent hanging in the balance.

12. The Amphibians - The newest race to arrive on the continent, they have taken up residence on the island in the middle of the Grand Lake. Independent through still subject to most of the Kingdom's demands, they tend to keep to themselves, and lend support the Kingdom's naval forces at sea. They are not particularly fond of humans seeing as for a while their eggs were considered a delicacy by the wealthy. In return for their new home at the Grand Lake where no natural predators lurk, they supply the Kingdom with generous amounts of fish and treasures from the sea.

13. Religion and Gods - There are many tribal Gods and Goddesses about. But the most important are the Four that the Kingdom recognizes, and the One Goddess that the Matriarchy worships. In the Kingdom the Fire God is the God of war and destruction. The Water God is the God of Justice and Law. The Earth Goddess is the Goddess of nature, seasons, the natural order of the world. The Air Goddess is the one in charge of the ethereal and the afterlife. The One Goddess is the Goddess of everything that is worshiped by the Matriarchy.

And below is the map. Shown as a whole and from each corner. I ended up adding quite a bit extra to the southeast part of the continent for the Matriarchy. But otherwise, the Old-World Map is unchanged.

Red = The Kingdom, Orange = The Matriarchy, Green = Gnolls, Blue = Orcs, Purple = Amphibian Race, and Dark Brown = The Elves.

Things can be edited and names altered. However, as it is fantasy, we can have strange names for places, and it will fit in naturally. Let me know what you think.

Character creation is open OCC!
The World's name is Tavolis.

And here is the whole world's map except that the main continent is larger then on this one. (See previous maps.)
i953.photobucket.com/albums/ae16/Ivar…

And here is the nation map to get a better sense where the counties and groups are on the main continent.
i953.photobucket.com/albums/ae16/Ivar…

God's Names
Fire-Palo
Water-Vesi
Earth-Maa
Air-Ilma

Goddess's name
Jumala

(Character Format and my own two characters.)

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Appearance:
Personal History:
Specialization:
Position and Standing:
Beliefs and Moral Standing:
Personality:
Interests and Hobbies:
Fears:

Name: Ravin Haboth
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Appearance: A young face framed with dirty blond hair cut short for easier helmet wear. Average build and height there is nothing the would make him stand out in a crowd. Neither handsome nor homely, the one trait that might have set him apart was the wide-eyed wonder with which he often viewed the world around him. His guard dress made of cheap iron worn and battered. The breastplate refitted from an older knight that had fallen in ambush near the Matriarchy. His two-edged long sword was similarly well used and had been sharpened down to near its core. He had a motley appearance for one of the palace's guards, but until his father could afford to buy fresh fitting armor, he would have to bare with it.

Personal History: He was born from the love of a poor nobleman's daughter and his magically gifted commoner father. Because of a friendship between his Majesty and his father Venron. Despite the likelihood that Ravin might be one of the few to have the bloodline of a Mage from his father, Venron insisted that his son would not be learning magic. With the King's protection the Circle, already upset to have a mage of Venron's power outside of their influence, was unable to get their hands on Ravin. Raised up in relative poverty, and alienated from higher society, Ravin had to fight for whatever knowledge and training he could find. Having grown up with tales from his mother about noble knights, and great leaders, as well as hearing about the King's vision for the future of the kingdom. Ravin has strove to serve in any way he can. Though it took long years of study and practice he has finally achieved recognition from the captain of his majesty's guard. For the moment he is only a lowly guard, but the day will come when his father will have enough money for a proper suit of armor and weapon.

Specialization: He is no wonder with the sword, but he has a drive and will that few his age have. Willpower born not of ambition, but of sincere desire to do what he believes is right.

Position and standing: Knight Guard under his Majesty's command.

Beliefs and moral standing: Has full confidence in his Majesty and his father's vision for a new future. A devote believer in the Four Gods, he does not however pay much attention to the priests who are under control of the Circle.

Personality: Eager and incorrigibly trusting of others, he has developed a strong sense of loyalty and honor from a very young age. Perhaps a bit naive.

Interests and hobbies: His one pleasure outside of fanciful stories lays in the playing of the wooden flauto. A gift to him at age six from his mother he studied music with her throughout childhood. It is one talent he regularly finds time to cultivate outside of swordplay.

Fears: He fears dishonor. Or to be more accurate, he is afraid of disappointing his family or King to the point of phobia. Perhaps another reason he is so driven to prove himself.

Name: Garrite Mardoval (The Son)
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: 3/4 Human 1/4 Elf

Appearance: Tall, imposing built, and touched with the sun. He cuts a striking figure with his dark hair and sharp grey eyes. There is little evidence of his Elven ancestry in his ears but despite his powerful form has an aura aerial of grace about him. Dressed in a hybrid armor of the Kingdom's full plate and the Matriarchy's turban chainmail, he is impossible to miss on the battlefield.

Personal History: Garrite Mardoval is the Son of his Majesty King of Nevithal, and the half elf priestess Velaria of the Matriarchy. Conceived when Velaria visited the Capital city of Nevithal, she kept his true birth a secret for the majority of his life. Garrite, who's name roughly means sacred tool, was trained from birth to be the best warrior and strategist he could be. Taught by the priestesses to be the perfect instrument of Jumala's glory, he was indoctrinated and shaped only because of who is father is. Yet even his royal bloodline and his priestess mother could not hide him from the fact that he was born a man and thus a lesser being in the eyes of the Goddess. Even the lowest priestess could order him around if they wanted to, and his vast education on Nevithal's inner workings and culture introduced to him the idea that it was men who were born to take charge. Learning whose son he really is he was told that he was to go to the Kingdom and infiltrate it's highest levels of nobility. The recent power struggle between the King and the Circle, was thought to be the perfect opportunity to introduce the heir to the throne to his father. With orders to gain trust in the kingdom and bring glory to Jumala he headed towards his new home.

Specialization: Trained as a highly skilled combatant and general.

Position and standing: The bastard son of the King. Agent of Jumala's glory, and rightful heir to the throne of Nevithal.

Beliefs and moral standing: Trained his whole life to serve Jumala and the priestesses, he has come to see things in a different light from his extensive education about other God's and cultures that hold men in higher regard then women. Ultimately where he stands is between worlds, and where his loyalties lay even he might not know.

Personality: He is confident, and indirect. A bit brash with a strong sense of pride.

Interests and hobbies: He has developed a unhealthy interesting in mixing divine magic. Something that no priest, priestess, or shaman would ever allow. Garrite nevertheless has become increasingly obsessed with the possibilities that would open up from this blasphemy.

Fears: Losing control. The thought of being trapped or forced by circumstance or fate is something he refuses to believe. Despite both Nevithal and Matriarchy's theological claims that one's fate is ultimately sealed by the Gods/Goddess.

The Scroll of Rebirth


In the underground kingdom of Arith there exists one tower where all the magical knowledge is stored and studied. The Mage's Tower contains over 200 different rooms not including the various hidden doors and magical barriers that have sealed off different sections from students and even in some cases the teachers and masters.

In the 7th month of the year 158 the discovery of the knowledge of immortality by the mage Martin Travis was written down on a scroll. Martin Travis then placed a curse on the Nether Tunnels where he had discovered the secret and traveled north to what is currently called Wizard’s Bane Cavern. It was to the west of the cavern that he founded the Mage’s new tower and gathered Wizards of all sorts to study the scroll he had written.
As the new order was being established it attracted the eye of many unwanted creatures and outcast magicians. The records and knowledge was secured safely in the new tower but the experimentation was all conducted in the Cavern near by. IVAR STONEHART was a mage who had dabbled into the beginnings of necromancy. Mirabel Caster was a powerful sorceress who advocated on Ivar’s behalf. Reluctantly Martin agreed to let him come. It then that everything began to unravel. Attacks and mishaps increased resulting the death of more than a few prominent Mages. Martin Travis suspected treachery after finding several things misplaced several times when he came in the morning. Martin waited in the cavern at night to see if the culprit would come. He found not one but two. He watched silently as Ivar and Mirabel both cast spells and chanted over the script of the scroll. Martin recognized the ancient tongue of demons. It was one that necromancers often used in their incantations. He watched as the words he had written down glowed in response. They were making strides in unraveling the mystery he had copied from the ruins. Martin waited until they were gone and then approached the scroll. It took him the rest of the night to create the magical circles and traps. But he finished his work before the others awoke and then left, calling one of the younger mages, who he trusted, to deliver a message to the elder wizards telling them of what he had found out last night.

Martin then retired saying that he felt ill and left the work to others for the day. In his chambers he rested readying himself for the coming night when he planned to confront Ivar and Mirabel. When night arrived he entered the cavern secretly as he had before and waited. When Ivar entered the room he was carrying a scroll and strode up to where Martin’s scroll was and began to transcribe Martin’s writing. It was then that Martin realized what had happened. Somehow the word had come around that he had seen the two of them last night and now that they had been discovered they had planned to create a copy of the scroll and leave. Because of the spells laid on the scroll at the beginning of its research it would be clear to all that Ivar had transcribed a copy and fled. Martin was glad that he had not told anyone that he had planned to act tonight.

Martin whispered a small fire spell under his breath and cast it on the parchment in Ivar’s hand. Ivar yelled as the scroll in his hand burst into flames. “Clever Martin to destroy the paper in my hand so I would not be alerted to the attack. However, you should not have come alone.” Martin blocked Ivar’s frost attack with a magical barrier spell he had prepared while Ivar was speaking. And then answered Ivar’s attack with a powerful fireball.

The battle went on between them with neither side gaining any clear advantage. Ivar had finally had enough of exchanging spells and hid behind a stone pillar. Speaking the ancient language of the lost ones he summoned from the grave a binding spirit that reached up from the ground with ghostly hands and held Martin in place. Exhausted and spent from his battle with Martin he tried to gather together the last bit of energy he had to finish him off for good. “You put up a valiant fight Martin but this is the end.” Ivar turned shot out an electric spell from his wand that would stop Martin’s heart. A spell circle then glowed over where Martin was standing and negated the attack. Ivar’s eyes grew wide. “Surely you didn’t think I was idle after you had left last night. Your fate was sealed the moment you chose to confront me in this cavern Ivar.” Martin broke the binding spell that held him. He then summoned a poisonous snake that shot out from his wand and bit Ivar on the arm. “This battle is decided Ivar.” Ivar smiled “Yes, it is.” Ivar cast the necromancer’s linked curse on Martin. “If I die then so do you. Our lives are one.” Ivar knew it was only a matter of time before the poison killed them both. But he also knew that Mirabel was already on her way to collect him. “Farewell Martin it’s been fun.” Ivar vanished as Mirabel teleported him to her side and they escaped together. Martin finally undid the curse but not before his body had been badly damaged by the spell.

After the others came in and found him asleep on the stone floor, they set about the task of healing him. It was decided that the scroll, though for the moment safe, was too much of a risk to have around. And so, they spent several days preparing to seal off the cavern completely until the location of Ivar and Mirabel would be revealed and they could end the threat they represented. High-level traps and seals were placed on the cavern that today is known as Wizard’s Bane because no one person could know all the curses and spells that are protecting the scroll. And the many that have tried have ended up dying sometime soon after.


The year is now 276 of the 4th month. 118 years after the events that led to the sealing of the Scroll of Rebirth. Martin Travis has been dead for over two years. The kingdom of Arith has come to be the dominate power in the around the Mage’s tower after waging a long and bloody war with the Lycans (a wolf/humanoid race) in the South-west, and with the Shifter’s (A blue-skinned race that resembles a mix between goblins and humans who can meld with the shadows) in the North-east.

The goblins in the north were probably what saved the kingdom of Arith from defeat as they had bread over the course of a year to a large number uncheck by the Shifters who then had to protect their western borders from the masses of goblin marauders. It gave the Arith forces the time they needed to turn the tide. The peace treaty has been in effect for 8 years now and although tensions are still high. Arith has grown strong in this border province with the mass of immigrants and adventurers coming from the heartland. It is very unlikely that either the Lycan or the Shifters have the strength to fight against Arith even if they could combine their forces.
Mabel Galihad is the daughter of Martin Travis and was widowed soon after she had her son Nerith Martin Galihad. Mabel was starting to feel the effects of age at 48 when she had Nerith and decided to step down from her honorary position of head instructor in order to take care of her son. She remains a part time instructor in the art of magical barriers.

Ivar Stonehart still couldn’t believe what his eyes saw… Lying before him on the table was the notice, which spoke of Martin Travis’s death. There it was written in black ink, the great mage of the order was dead. Mirabel Caster opened his door and entered into his private chambers. A large the collection of tomes and crystals lay against the wall gathering dust. In more civilized parts of Arith they would be worth their weight in gold. Here they served only as reminders of their past.
Ivar lifted his hand motioning for her to stop. Mirabel held her foot an inch above the floor. Ivar took his wand and tapped the leg of his chair, and a brilliant glow of purple shown from the intricately crafted circle now visible on the floor as Ivar stood up and walked to the center of it. Razing his wand up to his lips he blew and the circle disappeared. “Careful my dear. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt.” His scarred face smiled hideously at her. His sickly ashen appearance was a testament to the effectiveness of Martin’s deadly use of poison in their battle over the Scroll. Even after all those years of exile he had never truly healed from it.

Mirabel smiled back sweetly her flesh not yet corrupted by wounds or dark magic. “Ah yes… that would be a pity… what are your plans now that Martin Travis is dead.” The chamber’s flickering yellow candles mirrored his dark eyes as he considered. “In time everything will proceed according to our designs. But first…” Ivar strode past Mirabel into the hallway and down the through the cold stale corridor. The ancient cavern of some forgotten people who once had apparently ruled much of the underworld with an iron fist, it was now little more than a massive tomb, converted into the necromancers’ solitary fortress.

Mirabel walked behind him matching his pace. “The adepts are reporting they are ready to commence the ritual sacrifice.” Ivar sneered. “Adepts… they haven’t a tenth of our talent.” Ivar raised his hand and the double doors parted to reveal the sacrificial champers. The whole place was alight with the glow of candles and red crystals, which were reflected in the fresh river of black goblin blood. The ancient stone pillars and alien statues that surrounded the circle of darkly clad adepts only added to the eeriness of their work. Ivar walked down the broken steps gracefully with Mirabel in tow, until he came to the alter where the sacrifice lay. Ivar gazed down with a malevolent smile at his gagged and bound apprentice. “You have served me well in this life Atton. May you serve me better in the next.” Ivar took the ritual stone knife in his hands and began to chant. The adepts began to repeat him, their voices echoing off the stone chambers in perfect harmony with Ivar’s own.
Mirabel watched on the side as the spell took shape in the form of four wraiths. They approached the sacrifice rushing down upon him from the four winds forcing themselves inside the new host’s body. He twisted and turned but was held down by the adepts, his agony heard through his muffled mouth as he screamed in a tortured rage. Ivar’s voice fell silent, and everyone in the room hushed, all that could be heard was the labored breathing of the victim in that vast chamber.

Dearest of friends
Before you we bow
Through this man’s end
We summon you now

Ivar drove the knife into the man’s heart. Atton started suddenly at the stab and then exhaled his last breath and relaxed into the arms of death. “Ashes to Ashes… Amen…” Ivar clapped his hands together making a terrible crack that broke through the still silence and pulled his hands apart straining to open them as before him the very air appeared to rend and tare. A thunderous sound shook the very halls of the tomb as reality ripped between the land of the dead and of the living.

Ivar spread his hands out and addressed the portal. “Lords and Masters of the dead the hour of my release has come, our contract is broken!” Ivar reached towards the hole in space pulled out of realm of the dead the cursed spirits of the greatest necromancers ever to walk the path of the damned. The spirits sped quickly across the floor howling in their distress and anger. The acolytes screamed as their pitiful magic defenses were obliterated before the wraith of the Lords of the dead. Ivar’s eyes lit up in delight as he beheld the slaughter before him quick as lighting the ancient spirits of the dead moved through his followers. Mirabel calmly flicked her wand repelling any spirit that dared to try and take her. While Ivar welcomed them with a laugh, casting each spirit down that attacked him. He began to sing out the spell to bind them to his will.

Fear and shadows all around
No trumpet for you will ever sound
The darkest ones of all my kind
In my darkness I will bind

The chamber quieted until all that remained was one spirit, which hovered over Atton’s dead body. Ivar raised his wand and pointed at his apprentice’s body. “Now for my challenger, Greyhelm the Wise, a body prepared for you from my apprentice that died.” He gathered his will to cast the spell, careful not weaken himself as he struggled to maintain control over all his captive spirits. The flesh of Atton cracked and broke soaking the alter with a deep crimson red, and from his body his bones gashed out slowly rising out of its fleshy cocoon. The bones floated in midair and snapped together, cracking as it was set down on its feet for the first time all its joints fitting in place. The spirit entered into the bone matter and its eyes lit with a glowing blue flame. “Grayhelm will be bound to no living man!” His was voice airy and cold.

Ivar wasted no time with banter. As soon as Grayhelm was fully intergraded into his host’s bones he attacked. Ivar whispered a spell of fire and shot it straight at Grayhelm. Grayhelm blocked it with a wave of his hand shielding himself in ice, and quickly shattering it into a thousand pointed shards, which he shot back at Ivar. Ivar snarled and clamped down hard on the spirits trying to escape him. With a whirl and whisper he created a vortex that gathered the all of the ice shards together focusing them into one pointed attack which he held back with all that was left of his willpower. With an earth shattering cry Ivar threw it back at his adversary breaking the Lich’s defenses and slamming him against the wall. Ivar quickly reached for Atton’s soul and sent it to the Lich binding his apprentice’s life force to Grayhelm’s soul.

Ivar smiled as all the spirits submitted themselves to his will, Grayhelm the Wise now bound bowed his knee to him. “What would you have us do my lord.” Ivar finally relaxed exhausted from the incantations and brief combat. “Welcome my servants. We have much left to do…”