yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible
- Milton, Paradise Lost
Ten years ago Dagon IV, Emperor of Aldebaran, covetous of the lands he did not rule and fearing his own mortality, enacted a heinous rite with the help of his closest lieutenants. What they did, exactly, is the source of constant speculation: some say they sacrificed the children of Aldebaran's capital, Kuranes, to the spider-god Nyarlthos in exchange for a share in the deity's power. Others that he consumed the souls of the city's populace, increasing his might immensely, though at the price of being dependent on continual human sacrifice to survive. Others still maintain that Dagon found an ancient artifact of immense power and so ascended to become a demigod.
Whatever the Emperor and his circle of followers did, it caused the sun to shine an angry, dull red for ten full days, with no moon at night, only strange and sinister constellations. From the Red Night, which ruined crops and plunged the world into panicked chaos, the Emperor emerged as a being of immense power, whose armies swept over the other nations of Geryon. His circle of acolytes too had become something more than human, wielding powerful and dark magics, and in time became known as the Perfecti, his most fearsome servants.
The powerful kingdom of Varyon, neighbor and ancient rival to Aldebaran, was the first to be destroyed, crushed by Dagon's unexpected onslaught. After the shocking defeat and enslavement of Varyon, some nations bent the knee, others actively collaborated with the new god-emperor, but most were enslaved and destroyed in their turn.
Aldebaran, once a rich and fertile riverland, slowly became a twisted, haunted place filled with the husks of once proud cities, now sinking into poisonous bogs and fens and haunted by monsters and demons. Where once was a thriving culture and economy, now there is only slavery amid ruins, and the omnipresent totems and shrines of the Cult of Dagon. The citizens of Aldebaran are changed too.The Emperor's dreaded Legions are made up of horrible mutants and abhumans, with bulging, vaguely insectoid eyes and sharpening mouthparts and claws.
Now Dagon IV is now nearly master of all, ruling with the aid of his Perfecti. They enforce a strict caste system in the lands they control directly, and demand tribute in the form of children, woman and blood-slaves from the nations they've subjugated. Human sacrifice is offered to the god-emperor night and day in his haunted capital of Kuranes, and the nights grow longer and darker as the world itself begins to sicken. Strange, unpleasant plants and fungus have begun to spread beyond the borders of Aldebaran, and wildlife is becoming increasingly strange and violent.
Some, however, resist still. The Scarred King, the brother to the late King of Varyon Theophilius II, has continued to inflict defeats on the Legions, and is a legendary figure of hope to the masses chafing under Dagon's yoke. The situation of the rebels is growing desperate, but it is rumored the King has learned of an ancient weapon capable of changing the course of this war. Risking all, he has assembled a fellowship of allies and friends to undertake a perilous mission to secure what may be the last hope of defeating Dagon.
-
Welcome!
This is a fantasy RP that takes place after the victory of the sinister God-Emperor Dagon over the fantasy world of Geryon. Players will write as characters who have been recruited by the Scarred King into the rebellion.
The setting is what I call "High Fantasy OOC/Low Fantasy IC", meaning that the world would have as many fantastic elements as we like, but there would be limited magic "on camera" in the IC, as both an aesthetic choice to keep magic... magical and mysterious, as well as to put a limit on IC power levels while allowing for maximum creativity and freedom OOCly. There will be no magic system and no 'canon' cosmology for this RP, so competing and mutually incompatible understandings of the world, gods, and magic are fine.
-It is (grim)dark fantasy RP set in a harsh and unforgiving fantasy world slowly succumbing to a mysterious darkness. -I'd like this to be an exercise in collaborative world building. That means that we want characters that feel like they inhabit a shared world. Players should collaborate heavily on designing their characters and the setting. -It is low-medium fantasy: magic exists. It is powerful, dangerous, and rare. Rare.
A note on Magic: I am not a big fan on fixed magic rules or magic systems. I do want to stress that this is low(ish) fantasy. That means no armies of reanimated dead or golems, no legions of fireball casters, balrogs, etc. We're going to err on the side of how the LotR handled magic rather than say, D&D. Meaning, it is present and powerful, but mysterious and often indirect.
This is what I call the Tolkien/GRR Martin approach to magic and religion. Magic is real, mysterious, and powerful, but for the most part takes place 'off-screen', and is for aesthetic purposes somewhat subdued or indirect. Likewise, the RP will take the GRR Martin approach to religion: there are as many religions as we can come up with here, but we will leave it an open question as to whether any of them are true. Conflicting mythos and cosmologies and visions of god(s) are encouraged.
-It is vaguely 1600 AD tech. Gunpowder, muskets, cannon, etc all exist, though they are not used by the Empire of Aldebarran. -original fantasy races are enouraged -Inspired by Tolkien, Warhammer fantasy and 40K, Lovecraft, Morrowind, Song of Ice and Fire...looking forward to seeing what others bring to the table. - Advanced writing standards.
Players can create characters from player-created nations that were conquered or are being conquered by Dagon, or ones which are still resisting Dagon's advance (though I will limit the latter category). Characters need not have heroic motives- mafias, pirate gangs, brigands, cults, etc, etc may all have in interest in defeating Dagon. Likewise, characters may be all manner of fantasy archetypes (including magic users) and races (preferably creative twists on or something different than the bog-standard human/dwarf/orc/gnome/elf lineup). World building will be a big part of this RP.
Some details on Geryon
Aldebaran A once-fertile riverland that has quickly turned into a dark and twisted place, more and more populated by abhumans and strange plants and beasts. Once great cities are now husks of themselves; many are being dismantled for metals and stones needed by the Legions. Dagon's capital of Kuranes is a center of economic activity, however, as slaves are marched in from all across Geryon either to serve as sacrifices or labor on the immense temple-palace the Emperor is constructing. The Empire has reorganized its caste system along the following lines:
The Perfecti: the nobility of the Empire, serving as priests, commanders, elite troops and administrators of conquered territories. Known for their cruelty, cannibalism and decadence, many sport horrifying mutations. They are stronger and faster than an average human, and many are skilled blood-mages.
Aldebaran Legions: abhuman soldiers in service to Dagon, they are disciplined and brutal, fanatically devoted to their God-Emperor. Infamous for their ravenous, cannibalistic tendencies.
Slaves: the rest of the population is made up of various levels of slaves, many of whom are slowly mutating into servile, mindless beastmen as Aldebaran continues to decay.
Varyon Large, human kingdom located amid the fertile valleys of the Godsfang Mountains, Varyon resisted Aldebaran expansionism for centuries, but was quickly crushed by the transformed Dagon. It is now ruled by brutality and fear, its cities burned, its farmlands collectivized to feed the soldiers and slaves of Aldebaran. It's population is harvested regularly for slaves and sacrifices to send to Kuranes. A collaborationist puppet regime 'rules' Varyon from its decimated capital of Valens. King Odyssion V and his circle of nobles (known as the Marked for the brands they bear on their faces that denote them as servants of Dagon) ensure that quotas of feed, flesh and metals are met. In exchange for their service, they or their children can be raised to the status of a Perfecti.
The mountains and pine forests of Varyon are haunted by brutal rebels serving the Scarred King, who continues to elude capture by the Legions and has been a consistent thorn in the side of the pretender-king Odyssion.
Being adjacent to Aldebarren, Varyon's forests and fields are beginning to twist and sicken as the blight that plagues Dagon's lands spreads beyond its borders.
This looks rather interesting! I have to think on whether I'll be able to join since I have so many rps... But I am super tempted. What would the expected posting speed be?
All right, just chiming in here to let you know I'm still on board and making progress with my character draft. I've written up some paragraphs for religion, appearance, personality and equipment, and tomorrow most likely I'll finish up personal story (if I decide to spell it out at all - most of it is already stated or implied in other categories, or better left to mystery/interpretation) and skills, as well as some words on a side character I'm introducing along with my main.
All right, just chiming in here to let you know I'm still on board and making progress with my character draft. I've written up some paragraphs for religion, appearance, personality and equipment, and tomorrow most likely I'll finish up personal story (if I decide to spell it out at all - most of it is already stated or implied in other categories, or better left to mystery/interpretation) and skills, as well as some words on a side character I'm introducing along with my main.
This looks rather interesting! I have to think on whether I'll be able to join since I have so many rps... But I am super tempted. What would the expected posting speed be?
What sort of characters are others considering? I was imagining either a minor noble or knight, who's lands were taken by Aldebaran, or a noteworthy mercenary/brigand that merged with the rebellion.
My character concept is a man from a tribe of steppe nomads, inspired by such peoples as the Mongols, Turks, Cossacks, etc. You know, horse and bow and all. Spruce it up with a touch of shamanism and tribal magic involving hallucinogens and ritual self-mutilation to channel the power of terrible things (unspecified) that lurk at the precipice between life and death, at the potential cost of the channeler's sanity.
I have an idea for my religious beliefs where it's thought that if a person is murdered, their spirit cannot find rest until they're avenged (some tie-in here with my shamanistic magic is quite possible here, I reckon), and it falls upon kin and tribesmen to carry out vengeance. Debts and especially revenge will be important in my people's culture.
I want to work this into my character's motivations for fighting Dagon somehow, but I'm not sure yet how I'll connect all of this. I've thought of my tribe having a kind of vassal relationship with the kingdom of Varyon, or maybe they're just rubbing up against Dagon's border enough to warrant his wrath. (These kinds of peoples are famed for being a menace to societies that border them, after all...)
All right, here it is, my first draft. I uh, did not actually include a biography section for a variety of reasons. Here's why: Most of the relevant information that would have come out of it is already in this sheet in some form or another, either directly explained or at least implied. I didn't feel the need to bloat this sheet further with largely redundant or uninteresting details. Secondly, the things that *are* important and that aren't directly explained (such as the incident with Nitsa) are far more effective from a storytelling perspective if left unexplained, so again writing it out would just diminish the quality of the character. So all in all, unless you really want me to do it, in which case I will, I'd prefer to leave it out.
The only detail that would have been addressed in the story, that needs to be addressed, and has thus far not been treated in the sheet is how my duo of characters came to join the Scarred King's ranks. As far as that is concerned, I don't know, I'll leave it vague for now. I don't know much about the King in the first place, or his rebellion, or the company he keeps. Considering their location and my character's origin it can always be conveniently explained that they simply met by chance and saw mutual benefit in working together.
So, well, there you go. Hope you like it.
Edit: Oh right, I almost forgot:
-Inspired by Tolkien, Warhammer fantasy and 40K, Lovecraft, Morrowind, Song of Ice and Fire...looking forward to seeing what others bring to the table.
Berserk. I bring Berserk to the table. My character is Berserk.
Edit 2: After mulling over it a bit, maybe I'll add the story after all since I have more to tell now. Point stands that it's technically redundant, but it might make for a nice read, round the character off. Will see about it tomorrow. No promises though.
Name Serilda
Race Human (Mostly)
Nationality/Nation Description The Highland Clans of the Wounded Mountain
The northern part of the Godsfang Mountains surrounding Varyon is home to a particular peak named the Wounded Mountain. Its name is derived from the majestic glacier that extends down its frosty slopes, which assumes a deep red coloration near the top that narrows down into trickling streams or veins of red inside the ice until finally petering out to indistinguishable fibers. Seen from afar, it would appear that the mountain carries a mortal wound, perpetually bleeding. The glacier and mountainside feed into a lower plateau where the air is cool and game is rich in the dark pine forests dominating the zone. In its center is a sizeable, cold lake with fresh mountain water whose taste carries a hint of iron.
The region is large enough to provide ample living space for multiple little hamlets that have sprung up around the lake and elsewhere underneath the protective boughs of the ancient pine woods. Often referred to as clans, the villages are mostly just isolationist communities who chose a life away from the hustle and bustle of the southern kingdoms. That said they did not completely break contact when they built their settlements, and frequently send trade caravans down the mountain to barter for products they have difficulty producing themselves and supplying high quality lumber, iron, steel and artisanal goods in return.
The mountainfolk gradually adopted a new religion centered on the Iron God, a nameless, formless deity that apparently dwells in any and all iron – including that in the blood. To outsiders it would seem that this faith is the result of minds addled by decades of consumption of their strange tasting water which, judging by the glacier’s appearance cannot be healthy. And perhaps these outsiders have a point, but no missionaries who tried showing them the path to another religion were ever truly successful in toppling their beliefs. Although the Iron God does not truly have a church or a clerical organization, there is an old temple high atop the icy mountain, near the glacier’s origin, where a handful of ascetic monks and the sage – their leader – live in isolation from even the isolated hamlets. Generally seen as aloof by almost everyone, their council and their blessings are often sought by mountainfolk who would ask for mediators in difficult disputes, blessings for their children or fortune in battle. Rumor has it that the monks know a secret path that leads inside the glacier’s heart, to where the mountain’s blood flows free and undiluted, yet none could confirm that rumor to this day, nor has anyone ever found out where exactly this “blood” comes from. Some take the name quite literally and assume that the mountain is alive and sentient, and indeed has a wound from which blood flows as from any man’s wound. Others assume that it is not the mountain proper but something inside of it. Something old and nameless that is trapped or buried underneath the glacier and keeps bleeding into it.
When God Emperor Dagon IV rose to power and crushed the adjacent kingdoms, it was only a matter of time until his inhuman legions would climb the Godsfang Mountains and invade the plateau surrounding the Wounded Mountain. And so they did, leaving naught but misery, smoke and ashes in their wake. Survivors tell of a particular village by the lakeside that took the brunt of the assault and which was pillaged and raped over a matter of multiple days. So great was their misery that the sage in the mountain temple could watch no more and did the inconceivable: he drank the mountain’s blood, greedily, until his body could take no more. The rest is highly speculative and highly exaggerated, but as the tale goes, the entire plateau echoed with the alien screams that boomed down from the frozen peak of the Wounded Mountain, as if some antediluvian demon had been roused from its slumber. A formless monster composed of rage and blood descended upon the lakeside, obliterating any of the invaders that stood in its way and routing the rest into the woods where it followed them and murdered them one by one. Those who claim they had seen the beast can no longer be considered sane of mind, their account made dubious, but it is true that the great sage no longer dwells among the monks, and they speak no more of what happened on that day.
Occupation Vagrant Warrior
Religion The Iron God
Belief in the nameless Iron God is restricted mostly to the small northern region around what is known as the Wounded Mountain. According to the lore, the god is not only nameless but also faceless; he is in everything that is iron, most obviously the ore found in the earth and mountains, but also in the blood. That there is power in iron ore and thus weapons is uncontested (who would argue, after all, that might does not make right?) but believers hold that by drinking blood and/or eating the raw flesh of things, they can acquire part of that being’s power, while others say one simply gains the Iron God’s favor. Either way, the ritual eating of their enemies is widely spread among the mountain folk in this region, a practice that used to be considered barbaric by the more civilized kingdoms to the south in the old days. Eat your enemy and you eat his strength, so the saying goes.
Appearance Ask a hundred men to picture a woman, and you will hear a hundred different descriptions – but none will fit Serilda. She is tall, almost uncannily so, easily standing shoulder to shoulder with most men. Her face a perpetual grimace veering between pained anger and a disapproving frown. Even a stranger will recognize that no smile has graced her colorless lips in what must be years. Where her left eye should be there is only a dirtied, brown bandage from underneath which a trail of old, caked blood paints her unwashed cheek, past the puckered mouth and down to the chin. The remaining eye, encircled by a dark tone and amber in color, stares cautiously, perhaps disdainfully from one corner to the other, always watching for danger, for something to kill. Her head is crowned by a wild mane of unkempt black hair whose tips end just above her chest.
A coarse, dark gray linen hood covers her head and hair at most times to shelter her from the weather and shelter others from the displeasure of seeing her more clearly. The hood itself is part of a wide cape, embellished by a simple coiling pattern of black lines, which is slung around her shoulders, concealing a large part of the armor that she wears underneath. A harness made of hard boiled leather protects the chest and abdomen, while plate gauntlets protect her hands, forearm and elbow and additional plates which form part of her well-worn boots cover her kneecaps and shins. The rest of her arms and legs are clothed in simple, faded hemp fabric that looks to have stiffened with layers upon layers of dried sweat and blood. A simple necklace produced from animal sinew, pieces of bone and wood hangs around her neck. Various utility pouches and bags are fastened to her belt containing a variety of necessities like compact food, bandages, rope, a whetstone and more. When travelling from place to place, she additionally carries a decently sized knapsack on her back and underneath the cape, bearing supplies for herself and her companion for the journey.
Personality In a world of monsters, only a monster can thrive.
At a glance, Serilda is cold, gloomy and full of bitterness. Although her demeanor can be offputting, she is not one to reject the company of others if they appear trustworthy. She may not reveal much about herself or her companion, but is willing to at least be a good listener to anyone who shares her manic hatred for Emperor Dagon and his fiends. Catch her on a good day and give her a strong drink and maybe she is willing to tell a story or two. For the most part, however, it appears Serilda is too absorbed in her own sorrows to care much for life – except, of course, towards the one person in the world she cares about, more so than for herself.
Nitsa, her fourteen year old daughter, is the only reason Serilda has not yet thrown away her life by doing a death march to Kuranes. To those who merely know Serilda as a stone cold butcher of all that is evil, it comes as nigh a shock to see her being warm, tender and caring when interacting with her child. In truth, the lass is the source of her every emotion. She is the reason she can feel warmth and happiness, and she is the reason for her constant depression. An unknown amount of years prior, Nitsa bore witness and possibly became subject to such heinous events that they have traumatized her. Ever since, she’s not spoken a single word and is deathly afraid of everything besides her own mother. Serilda fears that her daughter may never recover, may never speak or laugh or love in her young life. That fate would spare her child only to cast it down with madness is the true reason why Serilda has given up on her humanity and decided to become just another monster in a world of monsters.
Understandably, her outlook in life is bleak – she is pessimistic, distrustful, hopeless and if there is any humor left in her it is of a deeply cynical sort. That said her sober view of the world has made her very conscientious. She’s honest, having nothing worth lying for. She’s industrious and pragmatic, seemingly channeling her frustration into physical labor and exercise. When she’s not training her skills or her body, or caring after her daughter, she is most likely doing work of some other kind like chopping fire wood, maintaining equipment or preparing food. Although she is brave to the point of recklessness, she has also become extremely stubborn and set in her ways. The only one who could conceivably talk her out of a given course of action would be Nitsa, and she speaks no more. Fortunately, at least, she still values living more than dying a hero’s death, if just to continue protecting her fragile child.
Secretly she harbors the dubious hope that Dagon’s death by her hand will cure Nitsa of her mental ailment.
**I’d like to mention that my descriptions of personality are never fully inclusive or final; they are to be understood as guidelines I set for myself, as the idea I had of my character at the time of conception. As such, it is not impossible for the character to reveal new facets not described above, or even contradict one or more of the above descriptions, within reason. Characters, after a while, become living things with a mind of their own, and sometimes they simply do things we have not accounted for.**
Equipment • Cleaving Sword The cleaving sword is a local oddity, used primarily by the tribes near the Wounded Mountain. Although it is technically a sword, it is used more like a halberd than anything else. The most unusual part of this weapon is its abnormally long handle which measures just about 70cm (27.5 inch) and is made of hard, heavy oak wood. The grip is wrapped in hemp rope to provide a better grasp. Affixed atop the long handle is a 90cm (35.5 inch) long, straight and 15cm (6 inch) wide blade with a single edge and which narrows down to a point at the tip. At the bottom of the blade, a rudimentary iron cross guard is in place. Typical use of this weapon involves chopping motions in an attempt to dismember opponents (very effective on horse legs), although the pointed tip allows the weapon to be used as a heavy spear as well.
• Hand Axe Intended as a tool, not a weapon, this hand axe has a length of 45cm (17.4 inch) and features a simple iron head while the handle is made from sturdy oak wood. Largely used to chop wood, but if it can split a log it can split a skull, can it not?
• Flint and Steel A chunk of flint stone and a small, irregular block of steel to start fires.
• Knife A small, iron knife not intended for combat.
• Whetstone A worn whetstone to keep all of her blades sharp.
• Oil Roughly half a liter of oil contained in an iron flask. Used to prevent rust on the blades and create torches.
• Rope About 9 meters (30 feet) of hemp rope.
• Blankets Four rolls of wool cloth that can be used as sleeping mats and blankets.
• Bandages A few old rolls of coarse linen cloth that can be used to treat wounds.
• Curative Salve A herbal salve with a strong, alcoholic smell contained in a small wooden jar.
• Blood of the Mountain A sealed iron flask containing about half a liter of undiluted blood from the Wounded Mountain’s glacier. Can be mixed into water in small quantities to create a sort of battle potion that increases aggression and lowers inhibitions, or be ingested pure… even if the consequences might be catastrophic.
Skills • Devour the Strength of thy Foe Most civilized folk would easily dismiss the old mountainfolk claim that blood and flesh is power, and thus eating it strengthens the self. But perhaps there is truth to the ramblings of the old folk, or perhaps it is a property unique to these people whose bodies and minds have been addled by generations of living near the infected waters of the Wounded Mountain. Wherever the truth might lurk, it cannot be denied that the mountain tribes can whip themselves into an unearthly battle rage if they gorge themselves on the taste and smell of fresh blood. If the legends are true, then they can even gain a portion of their prey’s strength by eating them.
• No Hatred is greater than Mine There can be no doubt that most free men and women hate Emperor Dagon IV with a passion, but there is a difference still between their unbridled hatred, and the violent turmoil that boils in Serilda’s heart. It has deadened her sense of mercy or compassion. Anyone and anything that she even suspects of being tainted by the emperor can expect to fight or flee for their life. While this makes her a ruthless and efficient killer in battle that leaves no loose ends, it can be a liability all the same. She makes no prisoners, does not differentiate between voluntary and forced servitude, absolutely does not negotiate and has no interest in liberating slaves or improving the state of the world.
Motivation Wants to kill Dagon and everyone related to him, willingly or unwillingly. She has no interest in liberating others, or improving their lives. She cares only for the total destruction of Dagon and his taint, wherever and in whomever it might be. Revenge is the likely motive.
As a minor motivation, she also hopes that Dagon’s death will cure her daughter of her trauma, though this is doubtful and she knows it.
Name Nitsa
Race Human
Appearance Taking after her mother, Nitsa is taller than the average fourteen year old girl and more akin to what a boy her age might be. In spite of this she appears very diminutive, instinctively sagging her shoulders and lowering her head to lower her profile. Her dreamy eyes also have the same color as her mother’s, but unlike her she keeps hers constantly cast downwards, regardless whether or not she is currently working on something in her lap. Almost nobody knows that behind her soft, pursed lips she is missing two teeth. She keeps her dark auburn hair at chin length, trimming it herself when necessary. Years of a life in the wilderness have not been kind to her, she is meager and dirty, but not altogether malnourished.
Her clothing is plain, a simple brown linen dress with dull white overlays that would be common in any peasant community in the lands. The most expensive thing on her might be her boots, which are of solid quality and keep her feet comfortable and warm even on daunting marches. She wears a self-made necklace from natural materials (sinew, wood, feather and bone) and a bracelet of similar make on her right wrist. A travelling bag is slung around her shoulder and rests comfortably at her side, containing some food and drink, a handful of personal affects (a doll from her childhood) and materials and tools necessary for knitting yarn and working with fabrics in general (knitting needles, scissors).
Personality Nitsa has closed herself off to the world; something unspeakable must have occurred to her in the unknown past and it defines her very being. Ever since that incident, she speaks no more. She’s not stupid, understands others perfectly well and communicates as well as possible without words, but simply refuses to talk. Often it’s not an issue because she is incredibly afraid of everything foreign, a disposition that makes her disinclined from conversing with others anyway. There are only two things she is not frightened by: her mother, and children below her own age. While her travels rarely take her to children, she has shown a real knack for getting along with them, speaking to them on a more primal level than mere words can convey. She could sit down and play with any child and gain its trust in a heartbeat. Perhaps this is because she herself has remained somewhat childlike in spite of her growing age, playing with a doll every now and again, sleeping in her mother’s embrace and seeking her approval on everything. A part of her wishes she could be this open towards adults too, but every time she sees one a knot forms in her stomach and she feels insurmountable dread and panic.
For the most part she keeps to herself, is shy and reserved and bothers no one. Similar to how her mother tries to forget through physical labor and exercise, Nitsa tries to forget through creating new and pretty things using cloth or impromptu jewelry. Often she can be found sitting by herself, knitting something of her own design or repairing a piece of clothing she or her mother wears. Deep down, there is a Nitsa who wants to be happy and live the life she was meant to have, but the shadow of dread has completely engulfed this version of her, hiding and muting it.
@FlaggTell me if this sounds too wild to you: I'm thinking up a noblewoman of a province, or a princess of a minor state under Aldebaran's sovereignty. Once loyal to the empire, her house and others allied to it began to renounce their allegiance to Dagon after witnessing the horrors wrought by his pact. However, they found themselves changed by the sorcery ravaging the country, turned into something resembling vampires or strigoi. One way or another, they avoided loosing their minds and fled, escaping Dagon's tyranny, but becoming branded as traitors in the process. Left with no choice but to join the Scarred King, they fight against their former subjects, hoping that one day, they might see their land restored to normal. Despite their good intentions, the magics unleashed by Dagon's pact have transformed them into vampiric beings, possessed of powerful abilities, but in a constant struggle to remain in control of their bestial urges. On top of this, they are ostracized by most of their new allies, being a product of the magic that they fight against.
This looks interesting - I noticed that it was intended for a small group and there were a fair few respondents in the Interest Check. Might I be able to join or was I a little late to the party/fellowship?
My character is the re-realization of a character I never had a chance to fully realize from an amazing concept by @Dead Cruiser.
Name: Hadar Mizrahi - The Scholar Swordsmaster - Hadar the Windwalker. Age: 40 Gender: Male Race:Human Nationality: Nomad of the Sand Kingdoms
The Sand Kingdoms are less a collection of monarchies as they are a vast expanse of dust, stone and sand, buffeted by wind and scorched by the sun populated by warmongers and warrior tribes. Thousands of years ago the desert peoples have studied alchemy, astronomy and mathematics, and have erected mystifying structures in the sands of their homelands. In the times now, they are a far cry from the once genial people, eager to trade and share with outsiders, and are now a region with such a long history of harsh conflict and grudges held. Bitter, bloody war of centuries-old transgressions is common among the Sand Kingdoms; the insurmountable pride of its people the only thing stronger than the harsh conditions of living in such a barren land. The arrival of Dagon of Aldebaran has been met with mixed feelings by the inhabitants of the Sand Kingdoms. Many warlords join the Aldebarans in return for power and conquest, while others resist him for the same reason, all the same, the people die.
Occupation: Wanderer Religion: The Pursuit of Knowledge
Hadar's calling is arguably the simplest- the pure pursuit of knowledge of any kind. Hadar is not satisfied unless he has learned at least something new each day, and as a result scours the world for books he can read, people who can teach, and things he can learn. This knowledge is not limited to scholarly learning either- Hadar also has interest in learning different forms of swordplay, different types of cuisine, dialects. In particular Hadar has the desire to explore the world to rediscover the lost and dying arts of the world.
Appearance: A tall and lean man, Hadar is a man in his prime. His posture is decidedly casual, but his build is obviously of one used to travelling. His coarse, dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, his tanned skin is set off by his hazel eyes, his beard is rough, but maintained, and his mouth is often curled into a wry grin. His body is marked by numerous scars, the most obvious of which crosses his face. His garb is comprised of white and purple robes, loose fitting and easy to move in, and of the traditional Old Sand Kingdoms style. However, during his time outside the Sand Kingdoms, Hadar occasionally dons leather and steel to protect himself.
Personality: Confident and charismatic, Hadar appears outwardly jovial and warm-hearted. His lazy and carefree demeanor, combined with his near perpetual times of thought is occasionally mistaken for a lack of spacial awareness and carelessness. Underneath his relaxed persona lies an innate brilliance, a highly intuitive and calculative mind. Highly perceptive and logical, Hadar shows an almost insatiable appetite for knowledge and learning of any kind, be it scholarly or practical to the point that his lazy and carefree demeanor is broken by a manic, almost obsessive disposition when presented with relics or tomes that are magical in nature. Despite his lazy demeanor, Hadar is a dedicated scholar boasting considerable knowledge of geography, mathematics, and alchemical theory. Hadar possesses a well developed moral compass, and can be fairly protective of his students.
History:
Hadar was born the second son to a petty warmonger in the lawless wastes of the Sand Kingdoms. Of his many siblings, only Hadar and his older brother lived past their childhood. His childhood was tumultuous and chaotic, their tribe wasn’t large enough to control any of the major remaining settlements, and were stuck constantly waging war against the other small tribes for the desert’s rapidly dwindling resources. As soon as he could walk he was put to work, gathering what little plant matter there was and helping out his family and other tribe members however he could. As a youth, Hadar was forced to the sword in order to fight for his family and for their collective survival.
As Hadar and his brother grew older, they were brought along with their father and the other men of the warband as they raided and skirmished with other tribes for control of water and resources. As their father and the other men waged battle against the warriors of the other tribes, Hadar and the other youths would make a beeline for the opposing tribe’s valuables: water, food, livestock; and steal them. As Hadar and his brother grew older they were taught in the way of the blade in order to further aid their tribe.
Showing considerable promise as a swordsman, Hadar proved to be quite competent with a blade, and would eventually be regarded as one of the most talented swordsmen in the tribe. He showed considerable promise as a combatant and joined the ranks of his tribe’s warriors. Extremely proud of his skill, Hadar quickly propelled himself to be among the most prominent of his tribe’s warriors, and eventually became known throughout the deserts. Taking victory after victory for his tribe, Hadar would eventually become well known throughout the Sand Kingdoms as the 'Windwalker', for his near inhuman dexterity and grace. So inhuman was his speed, it was as though he could control the wind at his back, or he could he could detect a man's movements before he even made them. With his skill with the blade, and his fearsome reputation, Hadar helped take his tribe to glorious, heights smaller tribes surrendering outright rather than face down the man that was worth a hundred men.
Hadar led his tribe across the deserts, his tribe believing him blessed by the gods, and following a path of fate. Hadar eventually led his tribe to a secluded shrine that historians had once referred to as Al-Kibrit, the temple in which the original Philospher's Stone was first created. The inhabitants of this shrine were a cabal of warriors possessed of an obscure and and mystic power, claiming to have guarded the temple for the past century. As Hadar led his tribe into the battle, he found himself fighting those who seemed to wield the powers of the gods themselves, faster and stronger than mere mortal men. As his kinsmen struggled to fight off the cabal and were slain, Hadar found himself in single combat with the leader of the strange warriors.
Only through his own inhuman speed and reflexes was Hadar able to survive the encounter, receiving a gruesome facial and chest wound as the enemy champion seemed to cut into him despite being several feet away. With every ounce of Hadar's skill, alongside considerable amounts of luck, the Windwalker eventually bested the cabal's champion, after a full hour of fighting on the last strands of his life. Claiming the cabal champion's blade as his own, Hadar found himself in possession of a magical weapon, a blade whose edge never dulled, and could cut through the very air around him, maiming men from distances out of his reach. With help of this blade, Hadar managed to return to his tribe, injured, but alive.
Though family, he and his brother often times butted heads. His brother, while a capable warrior in his own right, paled in comparison to his brother Hadar- a mere spark in comparison with a raging inferno. With their father making plans to have Hadar succeed him as the next warlord; Hadar’s brother was wracked with jealousy. Hatching a plot, Hadar’s older brother overthrew him, blaming Hadar for the loss of so many of the tribe's warriors, and accusing him of treason and attempting to lead the tribe towards destruction. Cast out and exiled, Hadar left his tribe, and wandered the desert sands.
Though he had been abandoned by his tribe, it appeared that those whom had granted him his unique abilities had not. The same wind that propelled his motions guided him forward through the desert. However, still suffering from his wounds, and With little more than his swords and the clothes on his back, Hadar didn’t last very long in the desert and an untold amount of time fending for himself, he finally collapsed.
Hadar awoke to find himself in the care of a hermit, weakened and sick from the desert. Nursing Hadar back to health, Hadar stayed with the hermit for a while-he had nowhere else to go, and the Hermit was kind and knowledgeable. Hadar learned much from the hermit, the cave in which he lived was devoid of the constant conflict that characterized the desert, an oasis of peace in an otherwise lawless land, affording Hadar a taste of peacefulness and calm that he had never before experienced. Hadar learned how to read, and how to write, he learned of compassion, humility and slowly learned the value of human life. The hermit taught Hadar how to read ancient texts and alchemy, and while Hadar never had any talent for the craft himself, he was content with learning about it for the sake of scholarly pursuits. Now able to read the ancient runes inscribed upon his sword, Hadar learned of the powerful spirit that resided within his blade. This spirit was of the same power that guided the wind at his back, and now that they had been united, the wind pulled even stronger. The ancient hermit eventually grew old, and died peacefully in his sleep.
After burying the hermit, Hadar took the hermit's texts, and works of knowledge and set off back into the desert as a changed man. Following the pull of the wind Hadar ventured west, eventually arriving in the Kingdom of Varyon. For the next several years, he traveled through the lands of the Varyon, seeking knowledge and teaching wherever he went. At times he drew his blade in the defense of the weak, and often stepped up in the name of defending knowledge and learning. His appearance, and swiftness in combat and his near inhuman speed spread across the realms of Varyon and it's neighbors. Similar to the stories of the Windwalker, a swordsman believed to be born of demons that tore his way through the Sand Kingdoms, word spread of a swordsman who could move faster than the wind, a near peerless swordsman, who instead of blood, glory and gold sought out books and dusty trinkets.
Known as the Scholar-Swordmaster, Hadar has been sought out by many across Varyon seeking to prove themselves against him in single combat, or enter his tutelage and learn the ways of the sword. He rarely drew his blade, and often turned potential students down, only choosing those who he believed were of pure body and soul to learn from him.
Since the destruction and take over of Varyon be the Aldebarans, Hadar and his cohort have gone into hiding. Hadar has temporarily pledged his service to his old friend and colleague, a man known as the Scarred King.
Equipment: A traveler by nature, Hadar holds a precious few things. On his person he carries a satchel, filled with various tomes, scrolls, artifacts, and objects of knowledge and learning, several are of magical nature, others are of more mundane. Also contained in the satchel are the necessary tools for weapons and armor care.
Steel Saber - For arms, Hadar carries with him two sabres. The first, is a mundane saber, crafted of fine steel and well balanced. It is a long, thin blade with a slight curve, and is kept in a sheath of fine, black coated oak.
Zulfiqar - The second saber, is Hadar's most prized possession, a sabre taken from an arcane foe from the ruins of Al-Kibrit, an ancient Sand Kingdoms temple. Known as the Zulfiqar, the blade's silvery sheen reflects brightly in the dimmest light, and is near blinding in the harsh desert sun. Capable of cutting through the air and maiming men from several feet away, its blade is inscribed with ancient runes and grant Hadar even greater control over the winds that guide his movements. The Zulfiqar is sheathed in a scabbard of fine white ivory and its hilt and pommel are adorned with gold.
Pupil - Not technically holdings, but accompanying him is his student Emil, a Varyon orphan that Hadar had come across a few years prior. The young Varyon peasant is just over 18 years of age, and is Hadar's first and only student to be taught in the way of the blade.
Beast of Burden - Collectively, the two of them share a large beast of burden (imagine large water buffalo) named Clavat, which they use for transport and to carry their more mundane belongings- spare clothes, food, water, cooking implements, and trade items.
Skills:
The Winds of Fate - Present with Hadar since his birth, strange winds follow Hadar wherever he goes, pushing him ever forward. They guide him in a never ending journey towards a goal Hadar will never discover. In return for his eternal following, the winds grant him great speed, pushing his arms and legs forward when he strikes, and allowing him to sense the minute vibrations in the air and predict the motions his enemies may make.
Force of Knowledge - Years of studies and research have made Hadar very well versed in the ways of the world, both old and current. His base of knowledge is only surpassed by his thirst for more knowledge.
Motivation: Hadar values knowledge, learning, and personal growth. He constantly seeks to better himself, and encourages those around him to do so as well. While outwardly lazy and carefree, Hadar holds compassion towards those who also embody his values. Though selective in his students, he believes teaching to be one of the ultimate methods of learning.
Hadar also values freedom, and the ability to pursue growth at ones own pace. He doesn't like the idea of being stuck in any one place for too long, and is commonly afflicted with wanderlust. This is occasionally attributed to the fact that he follows the pull of the winds, following what he calls the Winds of Fate.
Compassion and humility are also core values of Hadar. While one can argue how much compassion a man who so easily fights with a sword may be, Hadar truly values human life and dignity- though his displays of 'compassion and dignity' may not always coincide ideals held by others.
This seems interesting. I love world building after all, since this is low fantasy IC wise what are your limits for a wyvern rider or a human with dragon's blood?
As I've had an idea for a dragon-centered culture and society, for my character to hail from.
Not sure on the posting speed yet- probably once every week to ten days.
Left with no choice but to join the Scarred King, they fight against their former subjects, hoping that one day, they might see their land restored to normal. Despite their good intentions, the magics unleashed by Dagon's pact have transformed them into vampiric beings, possessed of powerful abilities, but in a constant struggle to remain in control of their bestial urges. On top of this, they are ostracized by most of their new allies, being a product of the magic that they fight against.
Sounds awesome to me.
This looks interesting - I noticed that it was intended for a small group and there were a fair few respondents in the Interest Check. Might I be able to join or was I a little late to the party/fellowship?
Nope, welcome aboard!
This seems interesting. I love world building after all, since this is low fantasy IC wise what are your limits for a wyvern rider or a human with dragon's blood?
As I've had an idea for a dragon-centered culture and society, for my character to hail from.
Either of those would likely be fine.
My character concept is a man from a tribe of steppe nomads, inspired by such peoples as the Mongols, Turks, Cossacks, etc. You know, horse and bow and all. Spruce it up with a touch of shamanism and tribal magic involving hallucinogens and ritual self-mutilation to channel the power of terrible things (unspecified) that lurk at the precipice between life and death, at the potential cost of the channeler's sanity.
I have an idea for my religious beliefs where it's thought that if a person is murdered, their spirit cannot find rest until they're avenged (some tie-in here with my shamanistic magic is quite possible here, I reckon), and it falls upon kin and tribesmen to carry out vengeance. Debts and especially revenge will be important in my people's culture.
I want to work this into my character's motivations for fighting Dagon somehow, but I'm not sure yet how I'll connect all of this. I've thought of my tribe having a kind of vassal relationship with the kingdom of Varyon, or maybe they're just rubbing up against Dagon's border enough to warrant his wrath. (These kinds of peoples are famed for being a menace to societies that border them, after all...)
Looking forward to seeing what you come up with!
@Ashgan & @vietmyke- will review the CSes shortly and get back to you!
Throw those characters up in the Character tab. As I flesh out the Scarred King, it might be good to work out how our characters are related. Ashgan, it is likely Serilda is close with the King, since they are similarly ruthless and are both from Varyon/the Godsfang mtns.
I'm still working on this CS (bits like appearance/equipment/skills which I have planned out but not had the presence of mind to write up still missing and others needing some tweaking) but I thought it was worth just posting my progress so y'all know I'm not fading away!
Name: Elaeria Fendril Age: 153 (barely an adult in the eyes of her race)
Race: Elfin Seelie
Nationality/Nation description: Seelie Court of the Ghostlight Forest
The Seelie are split up into individual 'Courts' and adhere to a belief of belonging to a single nation, one that encompasses all land where Seelie live as well as everything in between. Within this grand 'nation' each group of Seelie operate a 'Court' which oversees the running of their particular surroundings. Most will be found in forests, mountains or caves where nature is abundant and far away from other races and civilizations as the Seelie are not overly fond of involving themselves in the struggles of less cultured nations. Within these enclaves they will adapt to leave as little a footprint on the environment as possible. As such it is often difficult to locate a Seelie settlement and most will stumble across the Courts by accident rather than by design.
The Seelie Court of the Ghostlight Forest, named for obvious reasons and located far to the South in an area of a temperate climate and swathes of woodland, is predominantly made up of Elfin Seelie who can be found in their greatest numbers in woodland areas. According to ancestral lore they are descended from the huntress Brindel Fendril whose name the leaders of the Ghostlight Forest court bear and to whom they can trace their ancestry directly. Within this Court, Brindel is honoured as a veritable deity even by those who do not claim direct ancestry due to her woodland craft which is still observed rigorously by the Elfin Seelie.
Now the Ghostlight Forest is almost empty of its Seelie caretakers. All but the very young and injured left to aid a Seelie Court within a country neighbouring Aldebaran threatened by the encroaching forces of the crazed Emperor. Now they remain to fight alongside those survivors of that Court, their homes destroyed and most of their clansmen dead from the crushing defeat they suffered in the initial defence. Even the Chief Fendril has been terribly wounded and many suspect that his days are numbered, looking to any potential successor.
Naturally that would be his daughter, the only surviving clan member to bear the name Fendril. However, with exposure to heavily patriarchal practices in other races and the perilous situation they face, many have begun to question whether such a young woman could lead the combined Courts better than a male. This would mark a break from an aeon old tradition with an indirect descendent of Fendril usurping the position of a direct, main line family inheritor. The divide between the two sides is hidden but behind closed doors and in the shadows plots and schemes are conjured and before long it will no longer be a conflict that can be contained, concealed or delayed.
Occupation: Chief's daughter/heiress
Religion: Ancestor worship
Unlike most other races, the Elfin Seelie do not practise a Monotheistic or Polytheistic religion. Rather, they turn to their long and meticulously recorded family histories for guidance. Prayers for guidance, protection and strength are offered to famous members of their dynasty or the most celebrated of deceased leaders from aeons past. Songs and dances are attributed to their ancestors and form an integral part of their worship; celebrating in the accomplishments of their ancestors and commemorating the feuds long since ended.
When the first leaf falls for Autumn the Elfin Seelie gather to toast their predecessors and many believe it is the time in which it is easiest to commune with their ancestors; seeking guidance and wisdom from those whose name echo down the aeons.
A consequence of this religious adherence to their ancestral lines, and to maintain their diversity, is the avoidance of all inter-marriage amongst the Elfin Seelie. Instead, to maintain their ancestral identity, they will take mates from other, compatible, races (often humans) but rarely will they choose a lifelong companion. As such the families of the Seelie will not mix and lines are only lost through infertility or premature death. The children will almost always show traits specifically of the Seelie rather than the other races but there are occasionally those born displaying traits of the mate's race; these children are disowned by the Seelie.
Appearance:
Lithe, tall and toned from two lifetimes of hunting and arms training, Elaeria walks with the stalking nature of a panther. She is light on her feet and has an air of perpetual grace as if every movement is to a rhythm audible to her alone. Her limbs are largely in proportion with nothing especially notable although she is very slightly long-legged but this is more apparent in her stride length than in an aesthetic sense.
In the traditional style amongst Seelie, especially those Courts based in woodland areas, her glowing red hair has grown exceptionally long to rest barely above the back of her knees. In a more formal setting this might be braided painstakingly in whatever fashion is currently in favour by one of the branch families charged with the care taking of the head family but in these troubled times it is usually pulled back into a carefully tied ponytail (or one long braid when there is the time to do so).
At all times she will be found with her long hunting spear, an heirloom said to have been wielded by Brindel herself and often only used as a ceremonial item due to its unwieldy nature. However, Elaeria has fallen into the group of those few of Brindel's descendants who had a natural affinity for utilising the spear as it is: a deadly weapon suited only for a master in spearcraft. Along with this she will almost always be found in hunting leathers dyed a deep green, perhaps with a royal blue cloak when she is acting in an official capacity or is on the battlefield.
Personality: Despite her many years, Elaeria is young in age for her kind and this is partially reflected in her manner. She is cheerful in a manner only the young are capable, seemingly unperturbed by the horrors of war. Fond of celebration, dancing and singing with others given even half a chance, Elaeria is one who will take the spotlight at any festival. Her other love is of men. Specifically human men. She revels in their company and enjoys their determination to make a mark with their short lives, in sharp contrast to the cautious manoeuvres of the Elfin Seelie One should not be fooled by this carefree exterior, however. Raised to lead the Court from birth she has a mind for politics and is both cunning and strong-willed, the steel of her conviction something those attempting to subvert her birthright will find unexpected.
Biography:
Born to her Seelie father and human mother whom she knew only 'briefly', Elaeria was raised exclusively in the Court with an education fit for a leader. War and conflict were far away events, the Seelie not involving themselves in other conflicts unless requested by another Court to join their fight, but this was not a reason for relaxation in her father's eyes. As such she has been trained relentlessly in the art of hunting, both animals and sentient species. Constant training has left her with a lithe frame and toned body and she will be rarely found without her elaborately carved hunting spear, an heirloom from several generations past.
The spear had seen plenty of conflict before it came to Elaeria and has seen much since. When the Court responded to the plea for aid from another under threat from Dagon, Elaeria accompanied the warriors and most of the Court to battle. They arrived late to find most of the threatened Court dead or missing and instead evacuated those left and beat a fighting retreat from Dagon's forces, eventually meeting up with the Scarred King and his forces by sheer coincidence. Now Elaeria, and the Court, accompany the Scarred King, but the situation is fraught due to her father's wounded state. There are rumblings within the Court of choosing a more battle-hardened warrior to lead them during the conflict before allowing Elaeria to resume her father's position but few see this as nothing more than the power grab that it is.
Partly due to her status as the heiress of the Court, partly due to her natural charisma, Elaeria has a strong cohort of friends and companions of her generation who hunt and revel together. For decades she has built lasting connections with almost every family in the Court and so, whether by deliberate action or not, has ensured that any attempt to deprive her of right to lead the Court would not pass easily.
Edit 2: After mulling over it a bit, maybe I'll add the story after all since I have more to tell now. Point stands that it's technically redundant, but it might make for a nice read, round the character off. Will see about it tomorrow. No promises though.
Just letting y'all know I did just that. It's big, has tons of technically needless details, but fluff can be nice all the same. Hope y'all like it.
I'm still working on this CS (bits like appearance/equipment/skills which I have planned out but not had the presence of mind to write up still missing and others needing some tweaking) but I thought it was worth just posting my progress so y'all know I'm not fading away!
Name: Elaeria Fendril Age: 153 (barely an adult in the eyes of her race)
Race: Elfin Seelie
Nationality/Nation description: Seelie Court of the Ghostlight Forest
The Seelie are split up into individual 'Courts' and adhere to a belief of belonging to a single nation, one that encompasses all land where Seelie live as well as everything in between. Within this grand 'nation' each group of Seelie operate a 'Court' which oversees the running of their particular surroundings. Most will be found in forests, mountains or caves where nature is abundant and far away from other races and civilizations as the Seelie are not overly fond of involving themselves in the struggles of less cultured nations. Within these enclaves they will adapt to leave as little a footprint on the environment as possible. As such it is often difficult to locate a Seelie settlement and most will stumble across the Courts by accident rather than by design.
The Seelie Court of the Ghostlight Forest, named for obvious reasons, is predominantly made up of Elfin Seelie who can be found in their greatest numbers in woodland areas. According to ancestral lore they are descended from the huntress Brindel Fendril whose name the leaders of the Ghostlight Forest court bear and to whom they can trace their ancestry directly. Within this Court, Brindel is honoured as a veritable deity even by those who do not claim direct ancestry due to her woodland craft which is still observed rigorously by the Elfin Seelie.
Now the Ghostlight Forest is almost empty of its Seelie caretakers. All but the very young and injured left to aid a Seelie Court within a country neighbouring Aldebaran threatened by the encroaching forces of the crazed Emperor. Now they remain to fight alongside those survivors of that Court, their homes destroyed and most of their clansmen dead from the crushing defeat they suffered in the initial defence. Even the Chief Fendril has been terribly wounded and many suspect that his days are numbered, looking to any potential successor. Naturally that would be his daughter, the only surviving clan member to bear the name Fendril. However, with exposure to heavily patriarchal practices in other races and the perilous situation which they face, many have begun to question whether such a young woman could lead the combined Courts better than a male.
Occupation: Chief's daughter/heiress
Religion: Ancestor worship
Unlike most other races, the Elfin Seelie do not practise a Monotheistic or Polytheistic religion. Rather, they turn to their long and meticulously recorded family histories for guidance. Prayers for guidance, protection and strength are offered to famous members of their dynasty or the most celebrated of deceased leaders from aeons past. Songs and dances are attributed to their ancestors and form an integral part of their worship; celebrating in the accomplishments of their ancestors and commemorating the feuds long since ended.
When the first leaf falls for Autumn the Elfin Seelie gather to toast their predecessors and many believe it is the time in which it is easiest to commune with their ancestors; seeking guidance and wisdom from those whose name echo down the aeons.
A consequence of this religious adherence to their ancestral lines, and to maintain their diversity, is the avoidance of all inter-marriage amongst the Elfin Seelie. Instead, to maintain their ancestral identity, they will take mates from other, compatible, races (often humans) but rarely will they choose a lifelong companion. As such the families of the Seelie will not mix and lines are only lost through infertility or premature death. The children will almost always show traits specifically of the Seelie rather than the other races but there are occasionally those born displaying traits of the mate's race; these children are disowned by the Seelie.
Appearance:
Personality: Despite her many years, Elaeria is young in age for her kind and this is partially reflected in her manner. She is cheerful in a manner only the young are capable, seemingly unperturbed by the horrors of war. Fond of celebration, dancing and singing with others given even half a chance, Elaeria is one who will take the spotlight at any festival. Her other love is of men. Specifically human men. She revels in their company but, as is common amongst her kind, has fleeting relationships as their lives differ so in length and experience. One should not be fooled by this carefree exterior, however. Raised to lead the Court from birth she has a mind for politics and is both cunning and strong-willed, the steel of her conviction something few could expect.
Biography:
Born to her Seelie father and human mother whom she knew only 'briefly', Elaeria was raised exclusively in the Court with an education fit for a leader. War and conflict were far away events, the Seelie not involving themselves in other conflicts unless requested by another Court to join their fight, but this was not a reason for relaxation in her father's eyes. As such she has been trained relentlessly in the art of hunting, both animals and sentient species. Constant training has left her with a lithe frame and toned body and she will be rarely found without her elaborately carved hunting spear, an heirloom from several generations past.
The spear had seen plenty of conflict before it came to Elaeria and has seen much since. When the Court responded to the plea for aid from another under threat from Dagon, Elaeria accompanied the warriors and most of the Court to battle. They arrived late to find most of the threatened Court dead or missing and instead evacuated those left and beat a fighting retreat from Dagon's forces, eventually meeting up with the Scarred King and his forces by sheer coincidence. Now Elaeria, and the Court, accompany the Scarred King, but the situation is fraught due to her father's wounded state. There are rumblings within the Court of choosing a more battle-hardened warrior to lead them during the conflict before allowing Elaeria to resume her father's position but few see this as nothing more than the power grab that it is.
Partly due to her status as the heiress of the Court, partly due to her natural charisma, Elaeria has a strong cohort of friends and companions of her generation who hunt and revel together. For decades she has built lasting connections with almost every family in the Court and so, whether by deliberate action or not, has ensured that any attempt to deprive her of right to lead the Court would not pass easily.
Equipment:
Skills:
Motivation:
<Snipped quote by Ashgan> Just letting y'all know I did just that. It's big, has tons of technically needless details, but fluff can be nice all the same. Hope y'all like it.
