“I was sitting in a tavern when the messenger arrived. I told myself tonight was going to be a special night, figuring I could make some quick coin there singing songs of ages gone by while drinking down my fair share of grog. I was well on our way to our drunken stupor when the young lad burst through the tavern. Mud had already caked the bottom of his pants, and we all could see a few cuts and bruises taking shape on his arms. A look of exhaustion pained his face and he braced himself against a chair as he strained for each breath; he must have ran for hours to reach us. Somehow, through the crowds of people and loud noises his message was heard by all.
“The great King Baelnorn marches on the Mad King Vyshaan; he has our enemy corned and request that all bards and anyone able to bear witness to his triumph to make their ways to the Fields of Amarillis.”
The kid nearly fainted after he told us his message, and not a second passed after he finished did a loud cheer erupt from the mouths of everyone in the tavern. Everyone scarfed down what alcohol and food they had and made for the door. These were simple folk, they feared the Mad King so much so that they were willing to brave the wilderness and possible encounters with bandits and the Mad Kings soldier just to catch a glimpse of his demise.
But we got more than we bargained for. We all did.
It took most of us only a days ride to make it to the outskirts of the battle and we were all left with a sense of awe in what we saw. "An army, many thousand strong, made up by all the races of Arvandor all fighting under one banner for the first time in recorded history. Even as I crested a nearby hill my eyes strained to take in everything before me yet even as far as I was away from it, I saw the battle being engaged in earnest. On the far edge of the field, where Amarillis met the Cold Mountains, the Mad King as his army were corned. Backed up against the mountain itself, escape was no longer an option for Vyshaan, and my fellow bards and I watched as our forces slowly advanced on their position. Their bright armor shining out in stark contrast with the darkened armor of the cultist before them.
My fellow bards and I were writing down poems and stories when we felt the ground shake.
My first thought was as simple as a siege engine's projectile flying high into the cliff.
And then the ground shook again, this time twice as strong as the first.
Quickly, we all rose to our feet and looked out onto the battlefield below us. The soldiers nearest us were just as surprised as we were, and the sound of combat in the distance was soon replaced by the worried whispers of all of us. The soldiers in the distance were pulled back from the front-lines of combat, they knew something was up but from out vantage point we could not see.
Then the ground shook a third time, even harder than the last. The sound of rocks breaking bellowed out from the mountains in the distance as if itself was being torn asunder. Large rocks fell from the mountains, many bigger than a house. All of us, perched onto of our little hill, could see everything happen ever so clear. We watched as whole squads were crushed under the weight of these massive boulders. Our King Baelnorn himself removed himself from his heated fight with the Mad King and took shelter with his soldiers.
And that's when we heard it. At first it's sound was muffled from the stone prison surronding it. But as more and more rocks fell, the beast bellowed louder until there was no mistaking what was locked inside that mountain.
“Dragon.” I said in disbelief. The others looked at me like I was crazy, dragons were creatures of myth and legend or so they say. But the earth shook once more, this time the side of the mountain broke apart in a storm of stone and fire as the beast burst free from within. The soldiers caught in the massive blast were burried alive, their screams piercing even my own ears. Even from the distance I stood from the beast I could see clearly the crimson scales that covered the beast from head to toe as it crashed down to the battle below. I could even make out the massive muscles shifting under it's armored hide. I stood there for a minute, watching as the beast coiled it's neck back, facing our beloved king, before letting out a sea of fire that melted the flesh from bone of all unfortunate enough to be caught within it's reach. Their screams were louder then the first bout of that dragons victims, but they only lasted a second. Our king, and hundreds of his faithful warriors were reduced to ash.
As it's wings began to raise it's massive body off the ground, speeds that rivaled the worst storms in history gushed out and swept away those unfortunate to be near. And that's when it let out it's blood curling roar. I, and those around me, fell to our knees with our hands covering our ears in a desperate attempt to block out the deafening noise to no avail. As it flew ever higher into the air I swear it looked at me, it's bleak yellow eyes like a snake striking into the very fabric of my being. It was at this moment I ran, as even more monstrous creature poured out of the rift in the mountain. As I looked around I saw many soldiers turn cold and run, could you blame them?
From what I was told, we lost almost half our army in the first battle. Of those another half were lost in the days that followed. Even now as I finish writing this we are being hunted by many ungodly creatures. The only thing we can do is pray to the gods that we see our next sunrise.”
~Found on a dead Bard, far from the battlefield, early one morning.
What is history?
The land of Arvandor has a history shrouded as much so in secrecy as blood. Books are filled with stories of great warriors leading massive armies to victory against the forces of darkness in battle. Demons and their kind have always tried to find ways to pry their way into the realm of mortals, be it through the use of a desperate mages desperation through power or through a weakness in the barrier that separates our realms. Often, these hero's arise when an Elder Demon arises; and together with the people of the land thrust a sword deep into their black hearts and end the conflict.
But often times the stories are not as simple as the books would lead us to believe. Often times the worst conflicts to spill blood was not a war waged against a demon, rather often times the most bloody wars were caused by revenge. The current war that threatens our kingdom has spilled more blood than any in the past, yet the reasons behind the war are shrouded in mystery. Most, even our King Baelnorn ,say the Mad King is a demon himself, ripped from the planes of Oblivion and thrust into our world by the mage cultists that fight and die for him. Yet the question remains, is he really who we think he is? Some have begun to speculate that this problem hits much closer to home than the king would admit.
What are our example races?
These are just some generic races and some possible sub-races. You can have some creative freedom with this. Don't see a race/sub-race that fits you? Create one! Within reason of course
Firen
The most numerous of the humans, the Firen pride themselves on their ability to talk their way out of any conflict while being able to back up any words with action. They are different in most physical traits, yet they all are equal under their devotion to the God's as well as their King. Before the Mad King brought death in his wake, they also had the largest army available to any race but have found their core depleted after numerous failed battles. The first loss came when the King and most of his army were felled by the fire of a dragon, followed weeks later by the loss of The Guardians of the Light when Feer la Den fell.
Glamhoth
The humans of the north are called Glamhoth, and they pride themselves on battle and raids. They are a barbaric race of men who fight, eat, drink and make love to pass the time. They value little of outsiders, and their strict religious code allows them to kill those who believe in the new gods. But this is not to say that they are without kindness, or without understanding. Far from it, among their kin they appear to be a friendly and generous race. With each sharing what they have to those in need, and each celebrating the life and death of their friends with drinks and boastful tales of their exploits in battle. Even though they view outsiders with a cautious, and often aggressive eye, they treat every last one of their kin with an air of respect and kindness.
Lavas
The Lavas folk are the most prosperous of all the human races. They are the master shipbuilders, sailors and traders that claim home to most of the south coast, and many islands that dot the sea off the coast. Their ships are fast, and their soldiers well trained in the art of naval warfare. They are a greedy people, often compared to the likes of Dwarves, valuing coin and the parties to any other need. For with coin they can buy food, and at these parties they can gain favor. Indeed, to an outsider they are one of the most judgmental people in all the lands. They like to play what is called the Grand Game, where people's life and fortune are put on the line in a test of wit and charisma. Grand Cleric Orion said it best when he said “I'd rather deal with an angry Glamhoth than a friendly Iavas noble, for at least the Glamhoth will see reason!”
Lebethron
The Elves of the eastern woods are know as the Lebethron, a race of Elves who claim on the woods have stretched back for as long as history has. Many times have both Humans and Dwarves attempted to lay claim to these woods, for the tree's are strong and the land plentiful, but each and any time an army invaded they were driven back by a fury of arrows from the tree top's, from their rear, and front the front. The Lebethron are a very long lived people, with most reaching around several hundred years old with some even reaching a thousand years. As such, they are the keepers of both history and tradition.
Mûl The Mûl are the Elves who left their ancestral homeland and tried to find a life elsewhere. By customs, any Lebethron who is exiled or leaves without permission becomes a Mûl. More often then not they become one or two things outside their homeland; either they become a sell sword and fight for others or they are captured and forced into servitude for many of the other races. They are more aggressive than their Lebethron brothers, but also more cunning. They are forced, often from an early age to steal and murder. They make perfect assassins and thief's thanks to their light feet and quick hands.
The Half-elf's often fall into this race.
Andrann
The Andrann Elves of the forest and the fortress that bears the same name, Galadhon, are some of the most powerful mages in all of Dalan. The Lebethron hold great fear over magic and it's uses, and often mistreat those who present themselves as such. It was only natural, that three hundred years ago, the Great migration occurred. Angry at being abused by their brothers, five hundred mages and their families moved west and found the abandoned stronghold of Galadhon and claimed it as their own. They rebuilt it, and made the walls stronger with magic. The humans of the area have tried to reclaim this great fortress many times but are driven away at each turn. Their foot soldiers boast light armor fusedwith magic, their swords enchanted with fire and ice, and with more mages than any army the firestorms that they can bring wipe any doubt of their power.
Though they have been forced into a long retreat, their army and people still stand strong. They have the most numerous forms of battlemages around, with the most valuable being the Elemental Archer; who brings exploding fire arrows and ice shots that render you frozen.
Dwarven races
Anfangrim
The Anfangrim are a rather large tribe of Dwarves who claim hold over the great Iron Bottom Mountains in the south and the south east and all the fortresses within them. They are a stout and proud people who value gold, and a good story. They spent their days fighting or mining, and spend their nights drinking to tales of Dragon Slayers and other great hero's. Their fortune is only surpassed by those of the Iavas people, and only because their ships carry the Anfagn trade to other parts. They have a close relation to the Iavas, both understand the power of money. Yet both will often mock each other in public, as the Anfagn people value combat while the Iavas loves the game.
Hadhodrim
The Hadhodrim are the Dwarves of of the Middle Range, stretching from the south, all the way into the north. They are not as wealthy as those of the Anfagn, yet they are much better warriors. They pride themselves on their craftsmanship; often being the top of the line from swords to plate-mail. They often fight the Glamhoth in the north over the limited resources, yet they keep a close relationship with those barbarians. Often fighting in the morning, and if the fight was not resolved retreating to great halls to fight again; this time with alcohol. Indeed as time has gone on, less blood has been shed between these two and more ale drunk.
Surface Dwarves
Surface Dwarves are the Dwarves who have, for one reason or another, been forced out of the mountains and banished from ever returning. The other clans of Dwarves never accept an outsider, so often they are forced into many different criminal enterprises. From gangs to murder, to thiveving to assassinations, these Dwarves are often forced to do it all. Yet this is not the only thing these Surface Dwarves find themselves apart of. Depending on which clan they hailed from, some will become great warriors, traders or even a bard. Indeed, they may not be as skilled as others in specific traits, yet they are often the most diverse of all the races.
User created races.
BytheSpleen - Credit due for @BytheSpleen who created this race during my first attempt at this RP. He gave me permision at the time to keep on using it, even if it is for lore purposes.
Over the course of thousands of years, countless numbers of demons and otherwise alien creatures have invaded the world. Many bring back slaves from this land, and others are made slaves with a bit o' magic tampering. Others, as soon as the summoner died or something of the like, were loosed in the world, and most were forcibly shoved back into the Hell they came from, if not outright slain.
And then you have leftovers. Orcs, Goblins, Bugbears, the whole mess of things. Some are decent mages, as they descend from unwilling Elves, humans, and Dwarves, and others are decent warriors. 90% of the time, they fit in with the next army and get themselves killed in a big war...or something like that.
Then you got 10%. Half of those are wanderers - hobos, vagrants, bandits, bards, cartographers, etc. They're as hardy as the rest of them when it comes to travelling, but in the face of danger, they tend to panic a little too much. After all, nobody bothered to tell them that bears live in caves. Makes sense as to why they're usually just fodder, right?
The other half bear the most semblance to what could've been their races if it weren't for some meddling eldritch force selling them to the biggest sacrifice. Distinct cultures and exotic weapons come into play here. Among those races that can forge, the Hobgoblins are most righteously deserving of their title.
Hobgoblins are renowned for their expertise with fire, or more specifically, what they can make with it. As coined by their "favorite creatures", the Humans, Hobgoblins are great cooks and ironsmiths, and specialize in various steels from just about every kind of metal you toss at them. This puts them at odds with a few other races (or, did, in the dwarves' case; you don't see too many Hobs for a reason) for the honor of being the best craftsmen, but considering the Hobs (for short) just got their distinction from the rest of their ilk not too long ago, it isn't surprising to say that the Hobs were given the benefit of the doubt when their blacksmiths opened up. Like orcs, they love to use lamellar designs, as they're light, maneuverable, and protective for all their troubles, using as little steel as possible (because from where the goblinoids originated, most iron was refined via iron sand. Large chunks of ore were unheard of.) Their skin tones, unlike those of their greenish-yellowish-rainbowish colored brethren, are always shades of grey, and are a lot more matte because of their hygenic nature. They have eyes the color of gold, amber, and ruby, and stand about the same height as humans, as well as stand in the same weight range. Rumors say that the hobs have a bit o' man blood in them, which might be true, considering there's also a million hues of half-hobs half-men and whatnot running around the world without a surname to stick onto themselves...or well, wherever they came from.
In terms of being assets for war, they boast more dexterity and strength than their run-of-the-mill counterparts, but are best known for being the smiths of the fallen heroes' armors - again, one cannot stress enough that they can manipulate metal as though it were a draught made by dwarves' hands. Hardening, tempering, and honing are children's play to them. It's also why they're one of the most hated races in this land.
Just a forethought : only one clan of these Hobs are truly, truly submissive and friendly - the Aulds. As the name implies, they're probably among the first Hob clans to get around to being smiths, and as such, have developed the most stable culture. To protect themselves from magic that would otherwise enslave them to the will of others, they have developed high-pressure forging of raw iron, as 'cold iron' has the damnably strange property of attracting and deflecting magic. Protection is decent, at best, because they're nomads. Iron isn't always so plentiful at times, and elves willing to accept the coin for protection enchantments are even harder. Traditional forging has become a bit of an uncertainty with the Aulds.
Off in the Western Ocean, there is a series of archipelagoes and islands that are so expansive that they are the entire world for several nations. Inhabited only by humans, these island chains are referred to in their native tongue as the Land. Not having contact with the mainland for over a millennia, their culture and magic developed in an entirely different way. Because of the danger of flooding and other natural disasters, magic and the culture as a whole has evolved to advocate maintaining a harmony within nature. Among the archipelagoes, there still exist violent raiding societies that will roam in long boats, threatening the other peaceful settlements. Although resistance to attack is expected, to seek the violent destruction of these groups is considered horrific by the rest of the societies, and rather peaceful envoys occasionally approach the raiding groups, seeking to enlighten them. Magic is primarily focused on channeling the weather, healing the ill, and other activities that improve the life of others. Combat magic is unheard of, though there are several schools of magic that teach their students how to combat forces of darkness, as well as several games popular with Mages that have been adapted centuries ago from magical combat drills. The mainland made contact with the Land only 50 years prior, when a deep water Lavas trade vessel was blown off course and was rescued by a group of far flung fishers. Since then, there's been a steady growth in trade between Lavas and the Land over the years. Lavas nobles value the exotic goods the Land sends, while the Sunset Islanders all enjoy the goods made by the Dwarves. Although there are embassy's in major Lavasian cities, and a dedicated port city for Lavasian vessels, the Sunset Islanders have chosen to keep interaction between the two at a minimum, aware that there is a danger in opening the door all the way with these sometimes untrustworthy strangers. Hearing about the Mad King, several dozen of the best Mages began to travel to the mainland
What is our goal in this RP
Our goal is survival. Our story starts with us on the run, being ruthlessly chased by all sorts of monsters and evil creatures. Our only hope is the castle that stands defiant against time, one that has seen dragon fire and survived. We must run to the Sky Bridge, make our way across and find refuge in the Castle Estel. It is here, us fortunate few, will wage one last defiant stand against the Mad King Vyshaan.
Notable people, enemies, and armies.
Notable enemies:
Shamblers:
WIP: With their defeat at the fields of Amarillis, the Combined Armies left behind a number of dead and dying soldiers. The Mad King now corrupted with Dark Magic, lifted their dead bodies off the ground and stripped them of everything that made them who they were. Their flesh was peeled off, their souls forever banished to the darkest reaches of Oblivion, and their will absolute towards the Mad King.
Shamblers are the most numerous adversary that the survivors face today. While they are frail in build, and lacking in skill, they more than make up for this with numbers. Silence is their friends as they can move across vast distances without making a noise. Not one will talk, they do not step with a heavy foot nor do their armor clang. They often creep up on camps and overwhelm the guards with sheer force of numbers before converting the casualties to additional Shamblers.
They are rather easy to defeat, as any blow to their skulls will take them out of the fight for a moment. But eventually, without aid of a Sorcerer, they will find a way to put themselves back together.
Shambler Shock Solider:
WIP: Many great warriors fell when the Mad King Vyshaan played his trump card, and like the common shamblers these great warriors fell victim to the Mad King's magic. These former warriors still poses their great skills in combat yet lack any morals that would hinder an attack. Women and children are not immune to these monsters, many fall to their swift and brutal strikes.
In one on one combat, this monster will beat even the most seasoned of warriors with ease. Feeling no fatigue, these beasts will keep coming at you with strong strikes until your guard is broken, you run out of energy or you simply give up. The ease of killing a normal Shambler is lost on these creatures, with most boasting their strong armored helmets and chest-plates to protect from errant strikes.
The past few days have shown these creatures, while imposing in a one on one match, will fall with relative ease when two or more soldiers attack it at once.
Wraiths:
WIP: Wraiths are former assassins of the Mad King corrupted into something far worse. While shadows were the friends of their mortal self, these creatures thrive in the darkness. Able to move from any shadow, dark corner, or dimly lit space with ease and without notice, these creatures are almost impossible to detect before they launch their assault. Once they do, however, blood will flow. Their daggers are often coated in a Dark Magic poison, making even the smallest scratch a near fatal blow if not treated.
The Mad King Vyshaan - Post-Corruption
WIP: The Mad King Vyshaan's origins are as big a mystery as the man himself. It is common knowledge that he and a small following of cultist appeared in the south around five years ago. Within a month they had sacked the Lavas city of Trealo, and defeated the Firen general Atrimus and his massive army in battle. It was after the second month did his first infernal Black Crusade start.
He was once a human man, standing near six foot four with a fierce reputation as both a skilled fighter and powerful mage. He has since been exposed to the corrupting influences of the Dark Magic used in the spell to release the Dragon and his body reflects this. Under his custom armor, featuring the skulls of many soldiers he has bested in one on one combat, his skin changed to an Orkish color. Green skin dominates his body with black lines running the length of his body where his veins once were. Under his hood and mask, many speculate that there is no face to this creature.
Notable humans & armies:
King Baelnorn:
The great King Baelnorn is a man who has seen everything under his long rule. From a prosperous golden age, to a famine that ravaged his country, to the current war against the Mad King. He has seen it all and more often than not, he has triumphed in the face of adversity. He was the one who brokered a deal with the Dwarven King Bofkral, bringing riches for not only the Firen people, but the Lavas as well. The Lebethron Elves broke an age old war with the Firen with his help, and supplied the Firen people with food in their time of need. It was also Baelnorn who bested the Mad King's army on numerous occasions and ground his first Black Crusade to a halt.
With his defeat and apparent death at the Fields of Amarillis, his soldiers and his people have lost a lot of faith in the war. His soldiers flee without direction from the approaching monsters, and some of his people have pledged their loyalty to the Mad King in the hope that their lives will be spared.
The scouts of the Lebethron armies have reported an ominous sight. At the side of the Mad King there has appeared a man chained from head to toe. Their description matches that of the king.
Lavas Soldiers:
The soldiers from Lavas are some of the better armed and armored soldiers found in human ranks.
Glamhoth Wall Crushers:
The Wall Crushers from Glamhoth have a reputation that proceeds them.
Firen Shock Soldiers:
Firen Man at arms:
Notable Elves and their armies:
Lebethron Foot soldiers:
Mûl Sword company:
WIP: A group of Mûl who have banded together and formed a mercenary company. They are not the most skilled in combat but they make up for it with high quality weapons and armor and strong leadership from their commander.
Andrann Mages:
Andrann Elemental Archers:
Notable Dwarves and their armies.
High King Bofkral:
Anfangrim Dragon Slayers:
Hadhodrim Bone Crushers:
Surface Dwarves Forsaken:
Events that changed the world. In this section I will be putting events, both current as we write and historical as per our Character Sheets. The more things we accomplish, the longer this list grows!
The War of Lavas Aggression -Three years’ prior, a massive war broke out between the Lavas Empire and the Glamhoth Confederation. The war started when a Lavas General named General Jean-Guy Niel led his forces into Glamhoth territory on accident. The General was simply lost, as he had trouble reading maps correctly, and when Jean-Guy was confronted by the Glamhoth Earl of Hildisey, Earl Skuvif, the General confidently, and accidentally, boasted that he was not in Glamhoth territory and was in fact in Lavas territory. Earl Skuvif did not take kindly to that. To her, in her poor understanding of the common tongue, the General had just said he had invaded her territory and claimed her city as his own. A large scale brawl ensued. Earl Skuvif’s army gained the upper hand in this fight, causing numerous causalities and forcing General Jean-Guy Niel to retreat.
When General Jean-Guy Niel told his superiors of the battle, he made sure to emphasis the point that he thought the battle was fought in Lavas territory. The Council believed him, and just three weeks later the War began in earnest.
In the early few months, there was no real traction made by the Lavas army. The Glamhoth Confederations Army was content with defending their own borders and simply fell back to what would be came the First Defensive Line. The Line was a series of Castles, towns, and military outposts that stretched from the top to the bottom of the Glamhoth Confederation. From these encampments the Glamhoth launched counter-offensive after counter-offensive any time the Lavas Generals attempted to siege anything. Surprisingly, this strategy worked. Any time a city came under siege, neighboring Glamhoth forces would converge on the location and overwhelm the Lavas armies with strength of numbers and flanking maneuvers. While a few, smaller settlements, were lost to the Lavas, the big prizes for the invading army remained in Glamhoth hands.
For the first eight months of the war, Glamhoth forces held their line and prevented the superior Lavas army from advancing in towards the heart of their Confederation. Eventually, however, the Lavas came up with a plan to counteract the Glamhoth. Instead of spreading their army’s out, attacking many different settlements at once, they focused their attention on just one city; the city of Wruxvine. This city was a particularly hard city to siege, as it now only had strong exterior walls made out of stone, it had three additional series of wooden walls inside the city. In the middle of the city lay the Temple of Rofella. While most major cities had a temple for Rofella, this particular temple held an important spot in the Glamhoth’s faith. It was here that the Council of Rofella met, and where their Rofella Guard were stationed.
When the massive Lavas army surrounded the city, it was a common assumption that this siege would last a month or two before the real battle began. The city was in no danger of running out of food or water in the short term, and the Lavas were simply looking for a knockout blow. Yet when a traitor in their ranks sabotaged the gate mechanisms on all but the final interior wooden wall just two days after the siege officially started, did the battle start.
The Battle of Wruxvine itself was fought in a series of smaller battles, scattered all across the city; the bloodiest of which was the Battle at the Front Gate, where countless souls lost their lives trying to take the main gate. In total the Lavas empire lost a quarter of their soldiers in their attempt to take the city but the amount that the Glamhoth paid was even more severe. Fifty percent of their soldiers lay dead and dying, and another twelve percent of their nations military force were reported as missing or injured. The scared Temple of Rofella was razed to the ground, and the Lavas soldiers stole countless priceless relics from within. In the aftermath of the battle, it was clear that there was very little chance for the Glamhoth to recover, and as such the Glamhoth commander, Hrossbjorn, was forced to sign a treaty to end the hostilities and save his people from further bloodshed.
The treaty itself favored the Lavas greatly. Not only did the Glamhoth lose all territory taken by the Lavas, they had to pay a tribute each year to the Empire. A portion of their farmed goods had to be sent. The Lavas empire also restricted the army size of every Earl’s army, effectively making them a non-threat in the future. They also required the Glamhoth Confederation to allow Lavas observers free pass through the country, there to make sure the Glamhoth follow the treaty. The worst part of the treaty was the final provision. Five percent of the Glamhoth population, give or take, were taken as laborers back to the Lavas empire. The Lavas claim to be treating them fairly while giving them wages for all the work they do, the Glamhoth know that they are in fact slaves to the Lavas empire.
The effects of war were terrible for the Glamhoth people. Anger and resentment are at an all-time high, and many commanders are looking at ways to start another war with the Lavas to regain their lost territory and honor.
Other.
Name:
Gender:
Age:
Race: (I will allow custom races, but I need a thing or two from you. First you'll need the culture and religion of the race, provided with a location of where they call home. Next I need a basic history of your race, what wars they fought etc. On my go, this will become an official race that others can join if they see fit.) Appearance: (Descriptions are preferred, but if you find a picture I'll take it. Just no anime pictures.)
Personality: (Who is your character? What do they fight for? Don't make this part bland or cliche, but not overly long either. Enough detail for us to know your character but leave enough for us to uncover in the story.)
History:(Give us the basics, a paragraph or two will be sufficient. I want our characters to find out about each other as we would in real life. Put frankly, I want us to learn about each other as we go and allow us to grow our characters as we learn more about them.)
Equipment: (Anything that you carry. No detail is needed unless it warrants it. Sword, shield and backpack with supplies? Have them in a simple, bullet point list. A family sword with a special and beautiful design? Best explain how it looks ;) )
Other: (Anything else we might need to know. Be it special skills, such as you character being able to play a musical instrument, random bits of information to small to include elsewhere, what have you.)
Thou shall not be a dick. Seriously, no arguing here or in the IC thread. Take it to a pm.
Thou shall not be caught godmodding. No explanation here, the golden rule so to speak of an RP.
Thou can die. Don't make stupid decisions ;) If you think i might have placed a few wraiths in the shadows, get close to both friends and a light source.
Thou shall have fun. If we don't have fun, than what's the point?
Hello, potential participants in this RP. My name is Nariata, formerly The_Silence and Zeoul, and this is an RP I have been trying to get going for a long time now.
The basics of this story are that we are the remaining few soldiers from an ill-fated attempt at killing the Mad King and his forces. We are currently attached to a small army, but through the course of the RP we may find ourselves cut off and alone in our quest to reach the Sky Bridge. It all depends on you. I may present situations that could change the course of this RP, situations like risking your characters life to save a civilian or things of the sort. I may use an online dice roller for these situations, but for general combat you should keep it reasonable.
A lot of the lore is still a WIP, but if you'd like to contribute I will update it :)
The Va’sha are human in build and general appearance. With Skin as pale as the snow, flawless and smooth. Their hair comes in the colors of nature, and almost always affected by their vocation. The average height is slightly above that of an ordinary human. They do not posses any other bodily hair, other than the hair on their head, and their rather bushy eyebrows. Their irises glow vibrantly, usually in hues of blues and greens. Rarely in other colors yet some have been noted.
The Va’sha are magic in nature their entire society forms around its study and most would even say that they worship it. Outsiders are rarely permitted into the walled city of Va’shar. Depending on the type or types of magic learned the hair of the Va’sha changes. They care little of the politics of the outside world and keep only a small standing military, although all of the Va’sha have military training few ever choose to pursue a life of marching, and sword play. Even fewer study the Black magic, things considered by the Va’sha to be taboo. Those who are caught are executed, a very few escape and are banished to never return.
Those born without magic often take on a craft, in recent years a majority of those born posses almost no magical ability, they labor under spellcrafters creating ordinary objects such as chairs and assisting in crafting magical objects. After the battle with the mad king, and the death of King Baelnorn Va’Shar’s military force was obliterated, and only a few managed to straggle back to the homeland.
Appearance: Hair as black as coal with strands of glittering silver spattered throughout his mane, it resembled the night sky dark and beautiful with white lines highlighting his age. He had always kept his hair shorter on the sides and faded up into the longer portion atop his head. The longer hair was slicked back so it laid neatly against his skull. Irises like the raging sea they were dark blue flaked with sea foam green. He had lovely facial features from his prominent cheekbones to his squared jaw. Three long jagged scars ran from his jawline, stopping short of his eye and another scar ran across the bridge of his nose, removing with it a small chunk of cartilage. Each of the scars were as wide as man’s finger, and smooth to the touch. His lips were thin, and his mouth was wide, when pulled into his normal lopsided smile it showed healthy white teeth.
His body was well toned and fit from years of traveling on the road. He wore an old wool cloak, the bottom caked in dry mud and dirt. It had once been grey like a storm cloud, but now it had mostly faded. It had patches sewn into the gown to repair the damages done by travel on the roads. The garment was complete with a few stray strands of thread poking from its seams. Underneath the cloak he wore an off white tunic with a black double vest it had two small pockets on the front. In addition to the tunic and vest he wore a pair of dark brown trousers, and a thick leather belt. Several pouches were secured to his belt to include his coin purse. His boots were dark brown with squared toes. They were well worn in and the soft leather had many creases. On his back he carried an old black rucksack, it had a large flap with two smaller side pouches, one of buckles securing the smaller pouches seemed to have worn out, and no longer clasped properly.
Personality: Unlike a majority of his race Walden prefers to travel, often finding company with those on the road he reveals little about himself but takes interest in those around him. He fights for his continued survival often going the extra length to make sure of it. He doesn’t shy away from silencing those who know to much or slow him down in dire situations. At first meeting Walden seems friendly, kind and caring. After one gets to know Walden they notice the strange idiosyncrasies about him; his secrecy, his cold crase demeanor, and other oddities. On rare occasion he feels compelled to do acts of good or kindness, something that always unsettles himself afterwards.
History: Walden was born to prominent parents in the Va’sha, they held seats on the council of magi for several terms. His life was a whirlwind at a young age, he attended the Magi Academy of Va’Shar, the most prestigious school in the city. His off time was filled with tutors and extra lessons, he was recognized as one of the more promising students from the academy. At the end of his twelve years of schooling he graduated top of his class and with full honors. After his schooling he began his independent study of Ancient magic, which quickly took a dark turn. He spent most of his nights and days pouring over old texts. In his pursuit of knowledge and better understanding he lost touch with society. His parents sent letters though he left them unanswered, they piled on a stand next to his desk. On a unseasonably warm fall day, a new book had arrived on his desk. One his servants couldn’t answer for.
It was bound in black leather, with a silver clasp for locking the book shut. The pages within were well worn, having been flipped through many times, its ink reddish-brown similar to dried blood. The author had written the book in the book in a dead language. Each letter of every paragraph was masterfully crafted, the drawings that were included were done with painstaking detail, and care. After several weeks of searching he found an older text that translated the dead language, he labored for months to finish the translation, but had gotten no where. Every time he shut the book the contents changed, he was growing furious with his work, so much so he had attempted to get rid of the book only for it to return to his desk. He spent every waking moment on the book, and after several years he became competent enough to speak the language and read it.
He had began to perform the magic within the book, and things took a turn for the worse. Certain spells required fresh blood, more than he could offer. He bound his servants to the house with the magic of the book. They continued their duties, often doing their best to avoid him. Although once in awhile one of them would go missing, and they would say a silent prayer for them. He carried on like this for several months. The families petitioned the council for support, and were granted help from the city guard. Walden was caught off guard when they battered his manor gate down, to slow the guard down and to give him time to escape he turned the few surviving servants into thralls, they held would hold the guards for only a minute. He escaped out the back and managed to flee the city.
He managed only to take a few supplies with him, leaving behind years of work. He tried to continue his work but found it hard when coin was short and people traveled in caravans, instead he began his work as a Mage for hire, and was quickly picked up by a Mercenary Company. Eventually the company was hired on under King Baelnorn’s army. The battle went well until the unit he was attached too pushed to far forward and nearly cut itself off from the bulk of the army. In the heat of the battle walden was wounded, his face gashed open and bleeding. His blood blinded his right eye, he was one of the few left standing in the unit, he had to hold the line. Otherwise he’d be cut down in retreat. He held his tome aloft in his hand, the other out stretched, the Mad king's warriors charged the thin line with only the Necromancer standing between them and the wounded soldiers being carried to the back. “Klaatu Bradaaa Netpto.” The dead that lay on the field around him began to convulse and quake, Their eyes a ghostly white. They stood slowly, just in time to engage the enemies. The dead and the enemy warriors locked into battle. His undead servants were not as quick as their live counterparts, but it did scare them a good deal. His hand was held upwards with fingers curled in, wet with his own blood. The ground shook below the enemy warriors, they'd just dispatched the last of the undead and were about to advance when a hands of stones erupted from the ground grabbing the men they scream as Walden crushed them in his projected hands their blood soaking the stone. It caused the second wave to falter and Walden took advantage and escaped in the chaos, but not before raising a rear guard.
Equipment: Ritual Knife, Cloak, Rucksack with supplies, Boots, and Tome of Black Magic.
Other: A well versed necromancer, and a skilled black mage.
I just saw that I forgot to add in an AGE to the CS sheets while working on my two character sheets. Please remember to tell me how old your characters are :0
The Va’sha are human in build and general appearance. With Skin as pale as the snow, flawless and smooth. Their hair comes in the colors of nature, and almost always affected by their vocation. The average height is slightly above that of an ordinary human. They do not posses any other bodily hair, other than the hair on their head, and their rather bushy eyebrows. Their irises glow vibrantly, usually in hues of blues and greens. Rarely in other colors yet some have been noted.
The Va’sha are magic in nature their entire society forms around its study and most would even say that they worship it. Outsiders are rarely permitted into the walled city of Va’shar. Depending on the type or types of magic learned the hair of the Va’sha changes. They care little of the politics of the outside world and keep only a small standing military, although all of the Va’sha have military training few ever choose to pursue a life of marching, and sword play. Even fewer study the Black magic, things considered by the Va’sha to be taboo. Those who are caught are executed, a very few escape and are banished to never return.
Those born without magic often take on a craft, in recent years a majority of those born posses almost no magical ability, they labor under spellcrafters creating ordinary objects such as chairs and assisting in crafting magical objects. After the battle with the mad king, and the death of King Baelnorn Va’Shar’s military force was obliterated, and only a few managed to straggle back to the homeland.
Appearance: His hair black, a few silver strands peeking through. It was short and well kept his eyes off colored on Blue the other a purple. Once his face would have been considered handsome, but now its marred with scares, a large one across the bridge of his nose, three going down his right cheek. And a final one on the left side and at the corner of his lips, curling ever upwards in a smile. He was fit from years of travel, his body hidden in an old tattered grey cloak.
Personality: Unlike a majority of his race Walden prefers to travel, often finding company with those on the road he reveals little about himself but takes interest in those around him. He fights for his continued survival often going the extra length to make sure of it. He doesn’t shy away from silencing those who know to much or slow him down in dire situations. At first meeting Walden seems friendly, kind and caring. After one gets to know Walden they notice the strange idiosyncrasies about him; his secrecy, his cold crase demeanor, and other oddities. On rare occasion he feels compelled to do acts of good or kindness, something that always unsettles himself afterwards.
History: Walden had the traditional childhood of the Va’sha he studied magic day in and day out. His mind was hungry for knowledge, so much so that he often snuck into the library after hours and poured over the books. Then on a day like any other he discovered a book out of place, it was bound in a dark black leather with rough thick stitches across its cover. He resisted to touch it at first but soon was overcome. It was a very interesting book, one that could be read over and over again, one that the reader could never truly learn everything it had to offer. With every read the pages would change offering new information. Always seeming to know what Walden needed at the time. Over the years of study Walden grew more and more withdrawn, eventually he cut himself off from his social circles completely. Once he’d been a flowering Mage, often sought after for potential job offers. Now not a soul dared to near his manor, many of the locals feared his residence as they say some go missing, and that Walden conducts wicked research. Then on a particularly cold Autumn morning the guards came, their cadence echoing down the streets, they were there for Walden, to investigate him for the study of black magic. He knew it before they were even on his block. He grabbed what little possessions he could carry and hurried out the back with a rucksack on his back and his book within it. He spent years traveling after, eventually ending up as a mercenary he was ruthlessly efficient in what he did, and often times was employed to scare the enemies of his employer or to handle problems most wouldn’t touch. He was at heart a Mage, but more akin to a Necromancer.
Eventually he was hired on under King Baelnorn’s army as a mage and unbeknownst to his employer of his true nature and practice. The battle went well until the unit he was attached too pushed to far forward and nearly cut itself off from the bulk of the army. In the heat of the battle walden was wounded, his face gashed open and bleeding. His blood blinded his right eye, he was one of the few left standing in the unit, he had to hold the line. Otherwise he’d be cut down in retreat. He held his tome aloft in his hand, the other out stretched, the Mad king's warriors charged the thin line with only the Necromancer standing between them and the wounded soldiers being carried to the back. “Klaatu Bradaaa Netpto.” The dead that lay on the field around him began to convulse and quake, Their eyes a ghostly white. They stood slowly, just in time to engage the enemies. The dead and the enemy warriors locked into battle. His undead servants were not as quick as their live counterparts, but it did scare them a good deal. His hand was held upwards with fingers curled in, wet with his own blood. The ground shook below the enemy warriors, they'd just dispatched the last of the undead and were about to advance when a hands of stones erupted from the ground grabbing the men they scream as Walden crushed them in his projected hands their blood soaking the stone. It caused the second wave to faulter and Walden took advantage and escaped in the chaos, but not before raising a rear guard.
Equipment: Ritual Knife, Cloak, Rucksack with supplies, Boots, A sack full of knuckle bones, and the teeth of wild beasts and Tome of Black Magic.
Other: A well versed necromancer, and a skilled black mage.
I ran into a sever case of writers block yesterday, so very little progress was made on my CS/CS's. I will try and get at least one history wrote before my next class.
Off in the Western Ocean, there is a series of archipelagoes and islands that are so expansive that they are the entire world for several nations. Inhabited only by humans, these island chains are referred to in their native tongue as the Land. Not having contact with the mainland for over a millennia, their culture and magic developed in an entirely different way. Because of the danger of flooding and other natural disasters, magic and the culture as a whole has evolved to advocate maintaining a harmony within nature. Among the archipelagoes, there still exist violent raiding societies that will roam in long boats, threatening the other peaceful settlements. Although resistance to attack is expected, to seek the violent destruction of these groups is considered horrific by the rest of the societies, and rather peaceful envoys occasionally approach the raiding groups, seeking to enlighten them. Magic is primarily focused on channeling the weather, healing the ill, and other activities that improve the life of others. Combat magic is unheard of, though there are several schools of magic that teach their students how to combat forces of darkness, as well as several games popular with Mages that have been adapted centuries ago from magical combat drills. The mainland made contact with the Land only 50 years prior, when a deep water Lavas trade vessel was blown off course and was rescued by a group of far flung fishers. Since then, there's been a steady growth in trade between Lavas and the Land over the years. Lavas nobles value the exotic goods the Land sends, while the Sunset Islanders all enjoy the goods made by the Dwarves. Although there are embassy's in major Lavasian cities, and a dedicated port city for Lavasian vessels, the Sunset Islanders have chosen to keep interaction between the two at a minimum, aware that there is a danger in opening the door all the way with these sometimes untrustworthy strangers. Hearing about the Mad King, several dozen of the best Mages began to travel to the mainland
Appearance: A tall, lean brown skinned woman with tightly curled hair wrapped in a colorful cloth and a generous smile, Kat wears sturdy Lavasian travel clothing. The left shoulder of all her clothing has additional padding on it. She carries with her a tall engraved staff with her at all times. She has a tattoo of a snake eating its own tail on the back of her shoulder. She wears a bronze knife on her hip, and carries a quiver and bow with her, strapped to the massive backpack she carries. She speaks with an accent, and uses many Lavasian vernacular. She has the ornate piercings of a Purification Mage, someone who defends the Harmony against forces of darkness that try to disrupt this world. On her shoulder rides Samedi, a crow.
Personality: Characteristic of nearly all Sunset Islanders, Kat values a strong sense of humor and friendliness. Kat feels a deep sense of personal responsibility towards making sure that harmony is maintained throughout the world, seeing it is as her duty and honor as a magic user to protect and serve others. She is incredibly generous, and will share as much as she can with others, sometimes letting other people use her sleeping roll for the night instead of her. She delights in nature, and enjoys spending time in the mainland wilderness, so different from her home.
History:
The daughter of the local midwife and bronze smith, Kat had a positive and loved filled childhood, playing with her siblings and helping her parents at their work. By the time she reached 9, it became apparent that she possessed magical ability, and desiring to learn more, began spending much of her time with the town mage, a kindly old man who delighted in having a student to pass on some of his knowledge to. He had never attended any of the major schools, however, and could not perform the greater magics that Kat began to express interest in. And so, after numerous letters and a visit from another mage to observe Kat's natural ease with magic and her deep love of harmony, was admitted into the Yard of the Crow, a prestigious mage school. Kat's family wished her well, promised to write letters to her, and loaded her down with all the supplies she would need for her schooling. Kat took well to the Square of the Crow, delighting in the pure study of magic, history, and philosophy. It was here that Kat mastered the great Chant Spells, which could summon or calm great storms. She assisted older students in preparing to carve their staff, the mark of all Sunset Islander Mages. When Kat saw a violent Salt Demon be banished from it's attack on the school, Kat vowed to study how to maintain the Harmony against vile forces. And the school Kat attended had one of the best Purification Mages in the Land- Arlo Tence. Arlo was at first skeptical of letting the scrawny thirteen year old girl study to become a Purification Mage, but when Kat appeared at the door of his quarters every day for a month, he finally gave in, and gave her an hour of tutoring to start with, certain that the hard work of Purification would drive her off any notions on the romance of being a Purifier sooner or later. Much to his surprise, Kat took to it like a fish to water, and soon Arlo gave more and more of his time to teaching his young prodigy. When Kat was 17, she carved her staff, officially recognizing her status as a Mage. She returned home for a short time to celebrate and see her family again. After a month of being home, however, Kat desired to return to becoming a Purifier, and returned back to the Square of Crows and Arlo. For the next few years, Kat and Arlo would travel across the Land, blessing villages with protection spells, dealing with complex village feuds that resulted in curses being flung, and banishing demons back into their own realm. After Kat returned the ghost of a king to the realm of the dead on her own, Arlo decided that she had earned the rings of a Purifier. Upon receiving the rings, Arlo gave her another gift, a psychopomp, a guide of the dead, in the guise of a crow named Samedi. Shortly after earning her rings, Kat began to hear talk about the forces of darkness that were facing the mainland. Concerned about the danger the Harmony was in, Kat arrived in Lavas with a group of young Purifiers, all of whom enlisted with the Lavanian military as Mages. Kat was the only Purifier to survive the initial battle, and is currently beating a retreat, trying to find the best way to return Harmony to this war torn land.
Equipment: Wooden Mage Staff, imbued with magical power. Bronze dagger, a gift from her father, with several Purifier runes carved into it by Arlo. Sturdy Lavanian leathers, common gear worn by Lavanian Mages. Samedi, a psychopomp who leads the peaceful souls of the dead into the realm of the dead. He is accompanying Kat to act as her guardian, helping her improve her control over her magic, and assisting when she needs to see into the world of the dead. When asked, he once half jokingly said he was older than the sun. A giant backpack loaded with all the supplies a young woman needs to save the world. (includes an outfit for dances)
I may be flexible on this final slot. If your friend wants to join have him shoot me a PM and we can discuss it! If his character concept is something I like, he can join.
EDIT: First draft of my characters CS sheets are live. I will continue to edit these when I can, expect a lot of lore to be coming, in reference to the events that my CS has created. Such as the war between Lavas and Glamhoth, the religion, and whatever I can grab from your character sheets.
I've never read the books, but it sounds like an interesting series.
We are still waiting for two character sheets, potentially three. Once those get in we can start. I will start writting the IC this weekend, as I have a few exams here tomorrow.
