[OOC] Reforged

[Tessaract]

_{A C T I: T O T H A T W I T H O U T B O U N D}

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In ancient times, men became gods, laid claim to the stars, and sought to solve the mysteries of the infinite. Yet as they became saviors, they also became their own damnation. For it was not divine intervention, plague, or cataclysms which brought there great and terrible histories to a close. No, in the end it was nothing more than simple hubris. And so their world came down, the threads frayed and their lives shattered. As time has moved onward and wounds thought too grievous have hence healed, much of the world before the Long Silence has been relegated to myth and scripture based on the remnants which remain.

As things are life today is too dangerous to dwell on a past that cannot be understood. So we excavate just enough to help us survive in the world which we must dwell. We know that energies and knowledge are suspended invisibly in the air, that reshaped continents of iron and glass—below, upon, and above the earth—hold vast treasures, and that secret doorways to stars and other dimensions and realms provide power and secrets and death. To call it magic, may just as well be truth for all of our understanding.

Upon the eastern expanse of the reclaimed world lies a loose confederation of city-states collectively called the Holdings. Each of these independently-minded entities has a ruler to call their own, but all are under the watchful gaze of the Priory, the central faith of the reclaimed world. A faith based upon the understanding of the past, treating its technology as divine and the Long Silence; the punishment for its abuses. Its leader, the Archon arguably being one of the most influential, if not thee most influential figure in all of the Holdings.

Yet beyond the Holdings, the world is still a wild and untamed place. What clusters of civilization exist do so as isolated islands avast uncharted lands filled with dangers. Here death lurks around every corner as monsters, the loose remnants of past attempts at creating life, roam the lands unchecked by the protective aura of civilization. Yet where there is danger there is also opportunity for wealth and power. These wild lands are the domains of krewes, teams of adventures for hire paid fair compensation for their work to plunder the ruins of old in search of technology. These brave souls are the lifeblood of existence, their blood allowing for civilization to flow.

It is the third day of the Budding Winds. After a long and hard winter, the Reclaimed World has begun to thaw. The great trade city of Mournhold is steeped in merriment and celebration admist the week long festival. Yet even as others drink and dance, there are those that are preparing to venture forth beyond the Reclaimed World and into the Beyond. A clergy caravan from the Priory set to bring supplies, scholars, and pilgrims to the excavation site at Ashfoot. Along with them travels two dozen of the mercenary krewe known as the Vigil, for the roads are long and filled with peril.

_{G E N E R A L G U I D E L I N E S}

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▲ Have fun. This arguably thing if any I'd love for you to take away from this. This about telling a story with some cool folks and having a fun time while doing it. There is no winning here in the conventional sense, but considered it a victory if you take out something from this that was worth your while.

▲ Don't be afraid to speak up. If you have question about anything or if something or somebody is making you uncomfortable, please, please, please speak up. As a GM it is my job to make an enjoyable story for you guys but I can only do that if you communicate with me.

▲ Don't post your sheets to the Character Tab until they are approved. This is a really simple one to comprehend right? Just don't do it. You may post/send a draft of your sheet to me if you want any opinions on it, but for the final review it is only fair that I do it in front of everybody, so when you post your sheet to the OOC, I'm going to consider that your submitted application unless otherwise noted.

▲ Post all the things. Posting guidelines go as follows. Preferably once a week and in such a manner that it displays effort on the part of the poster. Personally, I tend towards the longer side of things because I'm terrible at condensing down my verbal vomit. You may be the master of the written word and get as much detail in a single paragraph. So do by you. Also if you won't be able to post for some time please tell me or I will consider you gone and that won't be fun for anyone.

▲ I'm not God. I'm some twenty something trying to distract themselves from the perpetual horrors of medical school, through magical worlds. Yet it is you the players that breath life into these worlds, the GM is not God. I may be the referee, I may be your encyclopedia, but my job is not to control you or command you. My job is to facilitate a story in such a way that everyone can have an awesome time. Don't be afraid to critique me, that's the only way I learn.

▲ Do your best. Don't sweat it, everyone is just as worried and insecure as you are. No one is a perfect writer, I mean if you want to show me your Noble Prize than yes maybe we can talk. I for one suck at proofreading and there will probably never be a day, I don't have to edit a post to spell a word correctly. But I'm trying to make an effort to be better at it. That's what I'm asking you, to try your best.

[Tessaract]

The Reclaimed World is the backdrop of a young civilization that has grown up amid the ruins of very old, very advanced forebears. In the time of the Reclaimed, the landmasses have rejoined to form a vast supercontinent, and a few scattered islands surrounded by seemingly endless seas with perilous storms. But did the world come to be in this march of time, or did humanity design it to be so? Certainly the ancient inhabitants of the previous worlds had the ability to shape their planet; as humanity's mark is a normal part of the topography. Islands of crystal float in the sky. Inverted mountains rise above plains of broken glass. Abandoned structures the size of kingdoms stretch across great distances, so enormous that they affect the weather. Massive machines, some still active, churn and hum. But for what purpose?

_{T H E H O L D I N G S}

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Along the eastern coast of this vast supercontient lay the Holdings. The Holdings comprises elven different city-states. Collectively, the rulers are often referred together as the Eleven Presiding. These kings, queens, princes, and councils share no love for one another and truthfully have no relationship except that each rules over a land whose people follow the Priory. Generally speaking, the Holding is more settled and civilized than the Wild, but it can be just as dangerous. Communities are isolated. Travel on the roads is risky and nearly unthinkable at night — but at least the roads actually exist.

The Eleven

Varkhym

The largest city in the Holdings and one of the most wealthy. Located off its northeastern shores, she is often called the Floating City for this particular reason. This of course is a misconception as Varkhym is in fact built atop of large ancient platforms that jut out from beneath the waves, and it is believed that they are in fact anchored to the sea-floor down below,. Yet the city does not rely on the waters to protect it.

Varkhym projects an air of wealth and opulence, with large estates the dwellings of the rich merchant princes that call it there homes, and who do business sailing up and down the dangerous coast as traders. Rulership of the city occurs every two years when the Princes Council assembles and they elect a new High Prince. It isn't the worst place in the Holdings, and is a fairly accepting of you as long as you have the coin that is. Though because of their rather let us say often arrogant thoughts about themselves. They are often dislked and “Humble as a Varkhym merchant” is a saying in the Holding that almost always has implied negative connotations.

Varkhym's merchant fleet is controlled directly by the Princes, who are at heart are sailors more than anything else. The fleet has more than 200 vessels that travel up and down the coast, trading goods and collecting money. The ships range in size from small coasters and cogs to multimasted caravels and carracks. These ships suffer heavily from piracy, and many are plated in synth or light metals to ward off attacks. Some carry weaponry as well, though this is usually only aboard their armed escort ships.

Kragpool

Kragpool is the closet neighbor to Mournhold. Yet the main danger of Borscrek is not the monsters or barbarians, but the very winds themselves. It is Located on the edge of the vast Rust Sea, a large graveyard of machiens and parts that struches for miles in every direction. Occasionally without warning large storms of Nanites that sweep across the sea, consuming and reprocessing the refuse to rebuild it into something new, as part of the world's new "natural cycle", will become lost and end up washing coming towards Kragpool. As a result most of Kragpool is in fact located underground, within the remnants of a large mining complex that seems to stretch endless into the ground below. Geothermic energies powering the numerious system that have perpetually provided Kragpool with clean air and water. As new citizens come they city expands deeper and deeper.

As a result the social structure of Kragpool has developed in such a way that the closer you are to surface, the more well off you are. The primarily lively hoods for many in Kragpool come in three forms. Pipe Menders - those that repair the large pipes that stretch all across the complex and bring water from far off places. Mushroom Farmers - Those that produce the priamrly foodstuff of Kragpool, and of course those risky and brave enough to go scavenging in the nearby Rust Sea. The leader of this underground metropolis is currently Queen Elphra, a young woman barely out of her teens.

Hektra

The centrally-located palatial city of Hektra, may be the most important of all the cities in the Holdings for one singular reason, it is home to the Priory. It is safe to say that in most cases the people make the city, but in the case of Hektra once could say it had a life of its own. It is a glided and brilliant city of towering spires of crystal, that shines with an awe-inspiring luminosity under the watchful eye of the high-noon sun. Besides Mournhold, it is arguably the most welcoming city to all the races.

For Hektra is as much a holy city, as it is a place of knowledge. The home to the largest archives of recovered documents before the Long Silence and the Reclaimed World's history after it, and the largest repository of recovered technology in the world. It is a city without doors peculiarly enough, as all of the city is connected by the few remaining remnants of the world's once vast teleportation networks and one enters and leaves buildings through said portal nodes. If Hektra wanted to it could use its knowledge to conquer the rest, making armies appear in the middle of its victim cities. Yet all are quite lucky for instead of power hungry rulers, Hektra is watched over exclusively by the Priory. The ancient order has its largest and oldest cathedral here, along with the entrace to the University where its trains members of its order and all those that wish to seek knowledge. Hektra is the closet city to capture the splendor of the World Before, but even then it is a small spark in comparison of the powers that once were.

Everbright

Everbright is a lonely city that sits atop a large plateau. (If you can only the risen mass of earth and steel, a plateau that is.) Most have never been to the city, but they have heard the legends. The Fall of Everbright is a popular tale told by many a traveling bard. It is filled with everything that you could ask for in a good tragedy: forbidden love, a mad king, divine intervention, death, and loss. Whether, you believe the bards tales or not what is known is that once long before the Holdings existed, Everbright stood at the heart of a great kingdom, but some sort of recovered technology was activated and wiped out every living thing within the walls of the city, leaving all the stone and steel intact.

These days the small population that does still live within Everbright, do so within the area protected by the first of its two famed walls. The inner part of the city where the palace still stands and the innert device presumably still sits, lays untouched. It would not be without cause to call Everbright, a cursed city. Those that live there are sure to never be caught outside after dark, and they lock their doors tight. For there are rumors of wandering spirits flickering in and out of existence and the wandering lost dead, whose moans can be heard beyond the inner walls.

Wessmound

Wessmound is a land of everlasting rain and thunder. The marshland city was built around the foundations for a large tower that stretched high into the sky, the top glowing like a large lighthouse. Created before the Long Silence, this tower was at least some sort of attempt at controlling the weather. Though with it's instructions lost long ago, and the mechanisms having been degraded with time, it has been constantly generating a storm system over the surrounding area for as long as anyone can remember, saturating what was once barren earth, into the swampy marshland that Wessmound now resides in. The people seem to be used to the constant downpour at least, thankful that while the storm doesn't do much it does keep the waters around them too dangerous to navigate save for their small and nimble wave-traders, high speed floating platforms built upon old tech that they use to naviagate the costal waters and the swamps without being slowed down.

The citizens of Wessmound are lead by King Valrun in theory, but King Valrun is in fact still no more than a three old child, and so at the moment his cousin Queen Regent Alya governs things until it is time for the boy to come of age. The bounty of Wessmound comes particularity from the marshland itself, home to a wide variety of fauna and flora found nowhere else in the Reclaimed World. Particularly, a type of worm known as the Steel Thread Worm, who as the name implies can produced silk that when woven into clothes makes them almost like wearing a set of armor without the weight. The people of Wessmound guards these large beehive like worm hatcheries with their lives as they are the main source of their livelyhood.

Gaerth

The famed City of Blood. It was once a city perpetually fueled by the business of a large consortium of Slaver Kings. They sent out raiders to abduct or buy individuals from nearby villages and barbarian tribes and then sell them off all around the Holdings, making a tidy profit in the process. Slavery was then and still is just something that happened in the Holdings. A simple fact of the calculus of life in that the easiest way to get work done, was to keep others on a leash. For a time it was the wealthiest city in the lands and the most prominent behind Hektra. All of that changed with the Ukanuq wars.

It was in Gaerth, that the wars had their beginnings and it was Gaerth's fall that prompted the other holdings to rally together the crush the rebellion before its fate would become theirs. A revolt ten years in the making broke up in the Slave Quarters, who as they tended to be were primary filled with Uknauq. When they escaped the cells and walls of their, as more slaves existed than regular citzens in Gaerth, they slowly began to overrun the city. The battle for the city was a brutal close quarters affair fought, house by house. In the end as the streets ran red with Blood, the Ukanuq claimed the day and would use Gaerth as their launching point for the rest of the war.

In the end though, the combined armies of the Holdings would besiege Gaerth and in the end take her back, killing every rebel that lay within be it man, women, or child. Those that survived slip out into the surrounding wilderness, transforming into the roving bands of maunders and guerrillas known today. Gaerth for its part is still under military occupation after all these years, made up of a constant guard of small professional troops from each of the other cities, and prisoners conscripted to serve rather than face the headsman's axe. And still today they fight the same enemy, that they repulsed from its walls long ago.

Plent

Plent, the so called City of Bridges lays suspended in the middle of the Byknew Canyon. The entire city seems to hover in midair. Connected on either side by two large bridges. These bridges in times of conflict and trouble are able to be retracted, making the city into somewhat of an impenetrable floating fortress, that hovers over the Byknew. Originally serving as a military outpost by the nearby Everbright, after its near destruction, Plent was able to grow into its own functioning and flourishing city.

Most of the citizens work on the Canyon which has been turned into marvelous fields of farms. These fields are watch over by the Riders, who serve as protectors of the city and ride atop of great bird-like creatures called Arvens that they have domesticated. In fact Plent is more known as the agricultural capital of the Holdings, supplementing their own knowledge with recovered technology that help increase the growth rate of the plants. Plent is overseen by Queen Selphie, who was installed as ruler after a military coupe overthrew he old and dogmatic father King Robb, who was threanting to drop Plent into the Canyon below by disabling the grand mechanisms that keep it afloat, found in the subleves below the royal palace.

Vallstead

Located in the frigid climes of the Far South, it is safe to say that Vallstead may be one of the few places where Jotun make up the largest members of the residing population. The city lay within the caldera of a long dead volcano, the remnant geothermic activity producing the many surrounding hot springs whose heat and warmth are used to make living in such a place bearable. Supposedly, the city was built upon the site of an ancient battleground, and has traditionally been since as a natural and somewhat holy location by the wandering Jotun tribes. In the ancient past, the place would be where the moots were held and a High King would be elected to lead the tribes. But the Jotun haven't had a High King in centuries, but the honor of the place still remains and no blood shall be shed upon it's land.

In technicality, Vallstead is watched over by Lodge Master Corrin, an elderly Jotun who served the previous Lodge Master and the one before him. In reality though, Vallstead is very much a "free city" without much in the way of guards or rules. As the Jotun way expects people to be able to watch over themselves and do their own business. Much of said business that occurs is between traveling merchants and the tribes that occasionally stop in Vallstead, to rest and sell their bounties gained from conquest and raids.

Baroon

The citadel of Baroon has always been more of a military base than it has anything else. Built in the South long ago, originally as a bulwark against the Jotun Tribes, before the more recent times of peace. She appears almost like a strange cyst upon the Earth, a giant rising bubble of steel that within Contains the city. Despite its start as a military fortification, the defenses provided allowed the flourishment of a small communcity that has grown to one of the largest populations in the Holdings. Life in Baroon, is fine as long as you follow Duke Arnle's orders and decrees. Those that do, find life as a simple if comfortable affair. Those that don't are hung as an example.

Baroon has the largest standing military of the holdings if you exclude Gaerth since it is an inter-city effort. They possess a rather hardy professional standing army and in times of war peasant levies are drafted to supplement these forces, each peasant required to spend at least two months of the non-harvest season in training camps to brush up upon their combat training so that the can fight when the time comes. Despite it's large armies and its rather intimidating appearance, Baroon is rather peaceful having strong diplomatic ties with many of the other Holdings, particularly Hektra do to the strong Priory presence in the city, as they use it is a expedition point for ventures into the Far South and nearby Vallstead who they have a close relationship with Vallstead trading metals and ores in exchange for food surplus from Baroon.

Essrin

The city of Essrin is built around the base of the large Tower of Essrin. A structure made of an unknown metal that stretches far above into the sky. There is a singular entrance into the tower at its base, but no successful attempts have ever ascended past the first floor. For in a peculiar case the interior of tower seems to be much vaster than the exterior, a strange land of constantly shifting metal and rising and falling platforms. The interior is protected by what the citizens call the Guardians, large robotic creatures that look like angels who attempt to kill any and all that enter their domain. But still hundreds enter the Tower each year chasing after the myths that if you reach the Top of the tower, you get a wish.

The city itself is built in large circle around the tower. This circle is then split into sixteen Cores, and each Core is ruled by a guild. The guilds control Essrin and guild politics is a dangerous and deadly business of deceit and violence. As each guild wants to secure control over the city, so that they can launch an organized force into the tower to get their desired wish. Resultantly, Essrin is a city where information, not coin is the greatest of currencies and all who enter somehow or another end up being forced into its great and terrible game.

Mournhold

Mournhold is the youngest of the Holdings and the furthest separated from its kin. Built out of the collapsed remnants of a large robot found on the edges of the Tyrick Jungle. The city is an amalgamation of wood, stone, and collected metals that juts out of the surrounding overgrowth, rising above the canopy. It has its origins as a small trading post used by Krewes as they ventured out into the Wilds. Overtime as more and more people came the small trading post evolved into a large and functioning city. Walls were erected, laws were put into place, and governance was found as the merchants elected a Viscount.

Now Mournhold stands as its own breathing, alien like entity. In other civilized places they will lie to you and put restrictions, in Mournhold they go be a philosophy of "I don't care what you do, as you long as you pay me." Coin is the great equalizer and anything can be bought or sold in the city for the right price. Much of this wealth and income comes primarily from its major market, the many Krewes that use the city as a base of operations. They come back from the Wilds with treasures and technology which they sell to merchants in exchange for better weapons, food, and loading and in turn those merchants sell the technology to caravans that hall it back into the Holdings proper. It is a cycle that has fueled, the city's growth for generations and with all hope and luck would continue to do so.

Though the wealth of the city makes it a target particularly for nearby raiders and barbarians looking to plunder its riches. As of recently though such problems have become less of an issue ever since the Viscount has hired a retinue of the Vigil, to help maintain order and train his guard.

_{T H E W I L D S}

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The Wilds is a very Holding-centric term, used essentially to describe any area of the world that isn’t part of it. As the scope of the world known and understood by even the most learned scholars in the Holding is limited, however, what the Beyond technically includes are the lands south of the Vallstead, west of Mournhold , and north of Wessmound. The people of the Wild are even more disparate and isolated from one another than the folk of the Holdings are. Although these lands are full of would be rulers, most communities are truly independent. Many have little contact with the world outside their own limited bounds, and some have none at all. The scattered villages of the Wild are numerous but there numbers are unknown, the only ones upon which any certain can be found are those built around Prioy Enclaves. The Wilds as they are as mostly uncharted filled with dangers and secrets a like. Lost laboratories, colossal structures and other mysteries dot its landscape.

Some Places of Note

Ashfoot

Ashfoot can be seen far on the horizon if you look from the tallest building in Mournhold. It appears as a giant mountain that stretches far into the sky, above the clouds and keeps on ascending. It was not until recently that a Priory excavation time was able to make its way through the dangerous Tyrick Jungle and beyond, to get to the base of the mountain. When they got there they discovered something mircalous, something which turned Ashfoot into the greatest archaeological find of a century. The mountain was in fact not a mountain but the remnants of great floating city that had crashed into the ground during the Long Silence, and over time foliage and life had grown atop of it concealing its true nature.

Since then the Priory has spent a considerable amount of resources excavating the site and sending research teams into the particularly well preserved city. A small community three hundred or so people currently live at the base camp at the base of the "mountain", and while they have been able to set up their own little farms and a functioning well, they still need the occasionally supply caravan to make the long trek to them.

Tyrick Jungle

Most that know of the Tyrick, know of its outskrits where the city of Mournhold is built. Yet it stretches farther and its secrets are much darker than one could possibly imagine. Covering more than 500 square miles, the Tyrick Jungle is dense with trees, underbrush, rivers, fog, and rain. Natural and mechanical creatures stalk its shores, lie in wait along the branches, and wing their way down upon prey in the dark of night.

Why go at all, then? Why enter its dark borders and risk life, limb, and sanity? The jungle has treasures to be found, ancient gods to be awoken, and wonders to be discovered. Makeshift camps have sprung up at various points around the edges of the jungle. Typically created by people who canceled their trek at the last minute, these camps are places of shelter and information sharing. They sell jungle maps that point out the locations of various gods and features, but every map is different from camp to camp (and sometimes even within the same camp). Explorers can also purchase slightly used tools, as well as great quantities of strange fruits that tantalize the tongue and unknown meats that spark with dozens of flavors.

Though the most dangerous quantity of the Tyrick are those that live within it. First you have the Ukanuq tribe that call the Jungle home, and aren't too kind towards visitors. Beyond, that you have whispers of strange slug-like creatures that live in the deepest parts of the jungle where even the Ukanuq dare not to traverse. Here where the forest canopy is so dense that the sun never reaches the ground. The stories speak of strange dark magics and the ability to wrest the control of one's mind away from them. Though sightings of this creatures are thought to be little more than stories, those that do have to travel through the deeper parts of the Tyrick do so with great care and expedience.

The God Stone

South of Vallstead admist a frozen wasteland and surrounding by beautiful pillars of ice lae, a strange rectangular object that juts out from the ground. The stone radiates heat and within a five meter radius of the God Stone, there is not snow upon the ground but the green of life. This stone has a great deal of importance to the Jotun people in their stories and history. The legends have that only those who are able to prove their strength may be able to approach the God Stone, a sign shown by the many frozen corpses that dot the approach to it. When the worthy approach the great monument, they may speak one question and whatever deity lays trapped within the Stone will answer the question for you, and that answer will always be correct.

The Ventari Expanse

Past the storms of Wessmound, the ground begins to dry out transitioning from fertile marshalnd to the vast Savannah that is the Ventari Expanse. The plains are vast only occasionally dotted by small towns and settlements. There are no cities though and the largest of settlements only has a population of maybe eighty or so souls at any given time. The people here grow foods of many kinds and are typically self-sufficient but trade with the caravans that occasionally leave from Wessmound. There are also nomadic tribes of hunters that erect temporary villages of hide tents and yurts on the plains. These tribes tame the strange buffalo-like beasts of the plains and ride them as mounts. Some of the nomads have turned to raiding more settled communities and even other tribes.

The most peculiar thing about the Expanse, may in fact be their faith. Rather than following the orders and decrees of the Priory, the people of the Expanse following the so called Mother. The Mother is said to by the goddess in the skies who controls the sun and the life-giving rains. Throughout the Expanse, typically upon hills and other risen mounds that are closet to the sky, one can find temples and shrines run by strange priests, who posses strange magics that can do miraculous things like heal lost limbs. The Priory believes these shamans to be using some sort of technology, but from outward glances it seems they are nothing more than simple men and woman.

The City in the Fog

A legend known by all Varkhym sailors. The City in the Mists speaks of a strange and rare occurrence, when on clear and cloudless nights, a fog thicker than the smoke of a raging fire will drift out over the sea. And in the distance if one watches one the horizon they will see light shining through. This is the fabled City in the Fog and it is a specter of death and destruction. For ships come from the City, ships of raiders seemingly impossible to kill. They never kill the crews but instead abduct them to transform them into whatever they have become, leaving only their empty vessels to slowly draft back to shore.

The Tear

Only one group has seen the tear and lived to tell the tale. Located far away from the Holdings, beyond vast stretches of dangerous land, it lays a hole in the ground that stretches for 1,000 feet from north to south and 800 feet wide and stretches down further than anyone can imagine. The area around the tear is broken, but not in the traditional sense but it seems that reality itself bends and folds around it. Gravity reverses itself, molecules rearrange themselves. It is a place of pure chaos and strange creatures that call it home. There are many rumors and ideas of what the Tear actually is, but the most accepted variation is the teaching of the Priory - that the Tear is the origin of the Long Silence itself.

Tyel

In a quiet meadow seemingly untouched and forgotten by the world lays a tree that seems to be made of a white crystalline substance. This "tree" serves as the gateway to Tyel. When touched, the individual is transported to an extradimensional space. The interior of this space is a strange with the ground itself reminiscent of the same crystalline substance that the tree is made out of. While there is weather, there is no day or night with the sky fixed in what seems to be perpetual twilight. In this strange world within a world lays a city, a city called Tyrel where the rules are unwritten and mystery lays abound. Things seem to be controlled only be sheer force of will and thoughts can conjure entire buildings into existence.

This strange paradise has been ruled by the Lady. While she looks human, she would have to be impossibly old which may very well be true for she seems to remember the Long Silence itself. The Lady is a benevolent ruler who seems to truly care for every one of her subjects and does all she can to make them comfortable and happy. Yet the Lady protects Tyrel and the secret of its existence and once you enter this strange world you are not allowed to leave again. But why leave paradise?

_{T H E V I G I L}

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Thirty years ago, a small group organized themselves into a Krewe calling themselves the Vigil. In the years since, the Vigil has grown into an international effort of associated krewes led by an elected council. Though the Vigil are generally well trained and supplied, their success can mostly be attributed to business branch - the administrators and representatives responsible for contract negotiations - who are perhaps even more ruthless than those in the field.

The Vigil is not one singular outfit, but rather a conglomeration of dozens of smaller krewes who have submitted themselves to the authority and standards of the Leading Council. The benefits of signing with the Vigil are notoriety, access to requisitions at reduced cost, and the option of pooling together with another Vigil chapter to meet the requirements some of the larger contracts stipulate. That the Vigil typically sends the closest local chapter to fulfill a contract also helps protect the reputation of the organization. Krewes comprised mostly of locals helps mitigate some of the more disagreeable behaviors that foreign mercenaries might exhibit, especially when the land and people they are protecting are not their own.

If all the local companies under the Vigil banner were to assemble, their numbers would surpass five-thousand. This, however, is a theoretical estimation that in reality would be virtually impossible without breaking dozens if not hundreds of ongoing contracts across the Holdings.

The viscount in Mournhold has contracted a retainer of one-hundred Vigil soldiers to remain in the city to aid in training and transitioning military responsibilities to the viscount's footsoldiers.

You are one of those one-hundred.

[Tessaract]

As one might expect humanity in its current form is the main racial group within the Holdings. Yet there are other sentient and not-so sentient creatures that exist in the Reclaimed World, the left over remnants of attempts to create new life either from altered flesh or steel. Acceptance is a hard word to use in a world where racial preconceptions still exist, but there is at the least more cases of mutual beneficial coexistence then there is without, especially now with stronger foundations of the Holdings taking place. In fact it may be more common for sectionalism to be a problem than racism do to the independent nature of the cities the settlements that make up the Holdings.

Races

H U M A N S

Humanity kind most easily be described as a tenacious bunch. They were the gods of the World Before and they will become the gods of the Reclaimed World if they have anything to say about it. The first to start to gather the technologies of the lost ages, it is upon their initial settlements that the great cities of the Holdings are built upon.

C E L L V A

The Cellva are a queer people that tend to favor the isolation of the forest and the jungles than they do the hustle and bustle of the cities. There most striking features of course is there skin which come in many varied shades, colors, textures, and their hair which forms in what can only be described as petals. For the Cellva are in fact plants or at least the blueprint of their creation was based upon plants. It is a common misconception that the Cellva draw their strength from the sun, where in the fact they are more similar to Fungi having to draw nutrients from the dead much like a human, through digestion and eating. While no exact lifespan of the Cellva is known for certain, the oldest of their kind those that survived Long Silence, several thousand years ago at this point, are just now beginning to die of old age.

The Cellva were one of the last races 'birthed' before the Long Silence, but hold their creation in a strange regard. They view their creators which they call the Makers, who they view as distinctive divine entities separate from today's humanity as gods who created them to continue their will was they were stricken down. And it is actually the teachings of the old Cellva faith, which created the fundamental ideology of the Priory and which is why many of its most exalted members are of their blood.

J O T U N

The Jotun are a genetically engineered variant of humanity, close enough to resemble them in feature but with a cultural identity distinctive enough to separate themselves. Originally bred as soldiers and manual laborers these tower colossus ranged anywhere from eight to twelve fight in height, they are naturally hairless and both males and females posses a pair of large horns that crest the tops of their heads. Most of Jotun live in wandering barbarian tribes in the World Beyond, those that live in the Holdings are typically descendants of tribes that ended up becoming krewes losing their nomadic ways in exchange for income and an easy source of living doing hard work they were typically accustomed to already.

Jotun culture is one traditional based upon the gaining and lose of honor and power. A fact that many a poor fool has learned when they accuse a Jotun of cheating or lying, a most terrible insult which most be answered only with the death of one who would say such baseless accusations without proof. A Jotun will never back down from a challenge, they will always want to face a threat with force of will rather than deceit, and they are some of the most stalwart companions a person can find. Just for heavens sake don't try and get into a drinking competition with them.

U K A N U Q

More commonly and derogatorily called Snag-Tooths, in their own language Ukanuq means Those of the Claw. The term compress all of the animal kind that was 'raised in sentience by humanity' Before the Long Silence, they were kept as exotic servants, companions and labors. These days, the Ukanuq are seen more as free-loading vagrants and wanderings. The shortest live races with the oldest of their kind living to a meager fifty years, though more often thaan not their lives are cut shorter. Though, they can be varied from fur, to scale, to feather they because of their disenfranchised place in society they tend to group together and all have a sense of unified kinship.

Much of the hatred for them comes from the Uknauq Wars some forty years prior, where the resentment and feelings of anger boiled over into full-blown armed conflict that while having been dealt with rather swiftly, many armed guerrilla groups still roam the wilderness intent to fight on for freedom and their place in the world. This of course leads to life for those that choose to coexist and dwell within the bounds of society as something of a general pain, as the actions of their kind make their lives worse, leading to many of them joining up with the guerrillas which only continues to prolong the problem longer. Like the Jotun many of them find work typically as hired-swords.

C L A N K S

Clanks is a catch all term for one of any race that has replaced part of their body with a robotic replacement. While the use of remnant technology is commonly accepted as it is the foundation for all of civilization, most cultures believe that the flesh is sacred. This comes from no small part due to the Priory's influence whose own beliefs are based on recovered documentation of conflicts with rogue AIs and other synthetics in the past. And so even in a world where robotic limbs are not that hard to come by, a man is much more likely to live with an amputated arm than he is to get a cybernetic replacement. Clanks as it were are even more ostracized than the Uknaqu, thought of as abominations whose souls have been stolen away by devils. Still doesn't stop people from doing it especially those in career paths where having a gatling gun arm might just be considered useful.

[Tessaract]

_{T E C H N O L O G Y A N D I T S T Y P E S}

---

Although the comparison between “magic” and technology is worthwhile, taking it too far is likely a mistake. For example, you can imagine someone disbelieving in magic even in a world where it exists. No one in Reforged “disbelieves” in the technolgoy. It’s all around them. It cannot be denied. It’s also more common than magic would be in most fantasy settings. And yet it’s still just as mysterious and strange, mostly because the technology is varied and unpredictable to those who don’t understand it.

There are people, however, who do understand it—at least to some degree. Not everyone merely scavenges technology from ruins. Some study it, comprehend a bit of it, and then create their own. Results are mixed, but in certain villages, the local tinkerer or Priory member has made a fabulous discovery not just of technology, but of understanding. Now, with the right resources, they can make the device, concoct the drug, or develop the process. A whole community might have access to advancements that are far beyond anything else they possess —a group of farmers using automatons to pull their plows, a village whose thatched roofs are coated in fire-retardant spray, or a band of soldiers with chainmail, spears, and short-wave communicators in their iron helms.

It’s important to remember that the people don’t look at technolgoy the way that 21st-century people look at technology. A force field projector and a two-way radio would seem not only like magic, but magic of the same level of power. In fact, the radio might seem more potent because its use is more broad and its effects are “invisible.” These people have no perspective on what sorts of technology are more advanced than others, and they take none of it for granted.

Technology in all its forms is categorized generally into three distinct formats depending on what they do and how they do it. These are typically called Level I, Level II, and Level III tech for simplicty particualry by Krewes who use said terminology.

Level I is basically strange little oddities and trinkets that are found almost everywhere. They are simple things such as a stone that floats in the palm of your hand, or a small rod that glows when you shake it. These weird and interesting little trinkets and gadegts can be given as gifts or commonly sold to merchants for a quick piece of coin.

Level II refers to technology that has power, but can't hold onto that power for long. These are simple things like a magical elixir used to cure poison (anti-venom), a small sphere that when throw emits a bright display of light or maybe an explosion of fire and metal (grenades), a device that points you towards its sister device (a tracking device), a pill that lets you breath underwater and so on.

Level III technology are typically along the same lines of power as Level II tech, but they are much more durable lasting for extended uses or as long as their batteries maintain themselves. These can be reforged and made into much more versatile equipment like weapons, armor, and other utility items like radios and flash lights.

Still, all tech is rarely straightforward in actual use. Rather than find a device that was meant to be used as a “gun,” a person is far more likely to find an item that was originally intended for another purpose but that has been modified (as best as the Reclaimed World understanding can manage) and now can be used as a ranged weapon. So instead of having a laser pistol you have a modified wielding device, and some reactor coating can be made into a reflector shield. Given the right tools and parts, some characters will be able to construct such items on their own. All tech are incomprehensible devices, as likely as not powered by transdimensional siphons using nanotechnology to rewrite reality on an atomic or subatomic level. Even to someone who understands a great deal about technology, most artifacts appear to be more magic than machine.

_{D R A F T E R S}

---

Drafters are sometimes called mages, wizards, sorcerers, or witches by the people of the Reclaimed World. Some claim to be the representatives of gods or other supernatural agencies. Whatever they’re called, these individuals have come to understand the mysteries of the past to the degree that they seem to perform miracles. They tap into Technology to alter reality or learn things that they couldn’t otherwise know.

Drafters come in two distinctive forms which are dependent on how they interact with the technology around them to perform their magic. Those who through various tiny devices that they possess, which seem like magic charms to the uninitiated, “conjure” energy. By accessing the surrounding web of connectivity transmitted across the world, they connect with machines — including the nanites — to change their environment. As a result the magic does not come from inside or any potency, but from the understanding of these charms making it more "totemic magic" if you want to call it that.

There are also of course what are called High Smiths. These alchemists and artificers have spent their entire lives analyze and understanding the underlying mechanism behind recovered technology. Using their knowledge they are capable of jury-rigging seemingly useless odds and ends of recovered technology into fabulous creations. Anyone can split a few wires to make an old battery into a bomb, but a High Smith can make wrecks into cannons and gravity generators into personal deflector shields for the right price of course. Because of the skill and knowledge it takes to perform such feats High Smiths are very rare especially beyond the Holdings and most if not all are of Cellva blood as their long lifespans work mean that spending seventy years submerged in reading old recovered mechanical designs and taking apart salvaged tech isn't too much of a time sink.

[Tessaract]

@Treue@Pariah@Sisyphus@71452K@vietmyke@Tangletail@Za Warudo@Nariata@boomlover
Hey look at that. There is a thing!

[Nariata]

Wooooo! Working on my CS :D

[Tangletail]

Working on the CS

[vietmyke]

Making progress on my CS as well

[Za Warudo]

OH BOI

Working on CS :D

[boomlover]

gentlemen. Lets get this party started !!

[Tangletail]

Just need to work out the history and my CS will be complete.

[FoxFire]

@Tessaract , does the Ukanuq mentality and maturity show a growth at the same rate as their physiological age? For example, a Ukanuq of 13 years of age has the same mental and physiological maturity that a human of the smae equivalent age would have? 13 years of age is around a quarter of the life spectancy of Ukanuq (50 years), so would that make a Ukanuq of said age be as mature as a human of 21 (which is a quarter of the life expectancy of a human at 85)?

[Tessaract]

Does the Ukanuq mentality and maturity show a growth at the same rate as their physiological age? For example, a Ukanuq of 13 years of age has the same mental and physiological maturity that a human of the same equivalent age would have? 13 years of age is around a quarter of the life spectancy of Ukanuq (50 years), so would that make a Ukanuq of said age be as mature as a human of 21 (which is a quarter of the life expectancy of a human at 85)?

@FoxFire

Yep, you go it right!

[Tangletail]

Vin Kastral| 16 | Female | Feathered Ukanuq

Vin Kastral| 16 | Female | Feathered Ukanuq
"A story is not lost to the ages at a teller's last breath. It just needs to be rediscovered."

Apperance

Vin is a feathered Ukanuq, and a mutt at that. She has a mixture of many different birds of prey in her genealogy, but the most dominant one would be that of a hawk which is mostly apparent in her facial structure and some parts of her body. Standing at a slightly below average, this feathered being is roughly 5'6" and weighs a mere 120lbs. Most of her body is covered in tan-esque orange feathers that blends into brown tips. And she has talons for feet.

On her head, the area starting just above and between her eyes and rolling back to her shoulder blades, and reaching around her collar is home to a segment of wildly varying lengths of feathers. These feathers keep the same color, but set themselves apart by being speckled with a pattern of quickly alternating hues of orange, white, and browns.

A collection of feathers juts from the sides of her head at controlled lengths forming what could be described as 'ears'. When in reality, they are just feathers similar to what can be found on some raptors. And finally, what many humans would often times describe as wings. Unlike actual wings, these do not cover Vin's arms, and has no substantial bone structure outside of the shoulder blades. Starting near the base of her neck, a cape of long and large feathers drapes down and will nearly brush the ground when she walks. They are layered, shorter ones on top, the longer ones on bottom.

The final main feature of her body is a break in the feathers at the front base of her neck. There is a visible line where the cover of feathers had been disrupted, but not badly enough to reveal skin without moving them. If one were to move the feathers, they would reveal the scarred tissue of a life threatening injury that had turned Vin mute.

And even though a Ukanuq was once an animal, they have ascended high enough to understand modesty. Even if a feathered Ukanuq often has very little on display when naked.

Vin wears a dark ashen blue wrapping on her head that keeps the wild arrangement of feathers to lay down a bit and forced backwards. And a matching cloak draped around her shoulders. It features an amount of excess cloth building up around the neck to help hide the scar, and to give her a bit more utility out of it when needed.

She does not wear much in the way of protection. She wears a pair of leather bracers and a vest on her torso. The vest is a mix of soft and hardened segments. And features plates that only protects her chest. Covering her lower body is a pair of sturdy brown trousers. And finally a pair of gloves.

History

First A drifter, and now a fighter for the Vigil ; Vin was born to one of the few tribes that willing inhabits the Shattered Plains. Her father, died sometime during her mother’s pregnancy. Her mother, Reeva, is a noteworthy and graceful hunter among the tribe. She was often described to make the act of killing another creature look beautiful as she danced, pranced, and pirouetted through the hunting grounds while letting loose a volley of arrows. So much so… that it is said that her large pet, a dire fang, was there to simply contrast and balance her out with the creature’s natural brutality. The only time a creature had cried during her hunts, was when she allowed her pet the kill instead. It was a great surprise when her child, Vin, inherited so little of her mother’s talent for the hunt.

In fact, Vin was possibly the worst hunter in the tribe. While she did inherit her mother’s grace and acrobatic skill. None of her skills with a bow, tracking, or stealth had actually been passed on. Where her mother could pin a human to a wall by his ear with a single arrow, Vin could barely manage to keep an arrow flying without it tumbling through the air, much less stay on path. But, there was one major defining trait that she had picked up from her mother, which kept her completely from falling in her shadow. She was a deadly killer. Not in the sense of a hunter, but a warrior. Her natural talent for combat matched her mothers perfectly, but in the form of a sword and unarmed combat rather than a bow and arrow.

While under training during her adolescent years, she helped fight off raiding tribes from outside the small community of the Shattered Plains. Garnering an amount of combat experience, and a sense of curiosity for the outside world. When she tagged along her mother’s patrols towards the more dangerous places of the ruins hidden inside the plateaus, she would often find herself lost in wonder as she observed little momentous of the past. Skeletons littering the floor all held their own little stories. The way they fell, their dying position, what they held in their hands… all spoke wonders of what may have happened, or the functions of particular curiosities. Some, as her mother explained, even gave hints and clues to locations the tribe people may not have found otherwise.

This interest soon lead her into joining The Paths of the Scholar. A way of life that pursues knowledge and relics to expand the collection in the archives. The Way of the Drifter was right up her ally. Despite the dangerous, glory-less, arduous, and lonely journey a Drifter is often left with – it makes up with it by the sense of discovery and the thrill of the journey alone to the tribesman that takes up the way of life. And once Vin was near adulthood, she left home with the blessings and the wishes of good luck from her mother.
She traveled for many months, to a few years. Her journey took her too many locations, while suffering just as many violent waylays. Many of which had been well traveled paths. Some maybe only seeing a wayward vagabond or two trying to escape the dangers of the night. And with each place she stopped by, she took her time exploring and recording and downloading information on the Datapad that is given to Drifters for their journey. Eventually, her journey took her to the Rust Sea.

If you were to take three parts of violent racial tension, two parts of dog-eat-dog slums, and one part tetanus pit, and a dash of abduction to slavery and mix it into one big geographical bowl, you’d get a recipe for mean as hell. And that, is what the Rust Sea is to those who knew it well. To outsiders however, not much is known outside of rumors. And many of which is often taken with a grain of salt by those who lived in harsh climates.

Needless to say it was a major mistake for Vin to stay while being completely unware of just how dangerous such a place can be to a naïve tribesman. The Rust Sea had shown a level of aggression and desperation that Vin has never seen before, but she had thought nothing of it. Many of her aggressors were down right pitiful, why would she worry? They’d turn tail and run when she lashed at them with a sword, a fresh wound somewhere on their body. Those that didn’t would fall to the earth and go still, the telltale signs of handiwork often being a limb that was removed or badly damaged in combat before the killing blow.

Her success in the Rust Sea had blinded her from the possibility of the worst happening. And when it crept up on her, the stormy weather had caught her cold. Her stay had inside the depths of the Rust Sea had extended to at least two weeks before she was ambushed by a group of humans. A glance at their clothing, the shit-eating grins they wore, the tools they carried, and hunger in their eyes… they were most definitely Slavers.

They had presented her with an Ultimatum. Surrender and submit, and she gets to live. The other wasn’t spoken… but obviously the stakes were high if she did not accept the first option.

She had heard stories of these kind of people. And no matter which option she took, accepting a collar or death, neither one would be the most immediate results. No… the time between now and then could easily be the worst hours of anyone’s life. Not one to accept a collar, and not one to die so easily – Vin had denied those demands and instead chose to stand her ground.

The fight began, and it was certainly not going very well for Vin. It was not for the lack of skill, but simply for the fact of a number’s advantage and better knowledge of the area. Vin is no fool. She knew it would be a death sentence to fight them all at once, and even worse to get surrounded. She used every little trick she could to try and cull off their numbers. Running and immediately turning to fight the individual who had caught up to her alone. Shoving people off of cliffs. And all around being a nuisance. But it wasn’t enough. And she had taken many injuries in the process. Both from the persuer’s weapons, and from the multiple deep cuts from jagged strips of metal that littered the Rust Sea.

The collective severity of her wounds, and exhaustion soon caught up to her. She began to move sluggishly, and eventually a single trip was the final nail in the coffin. When she struck the ground, she could hardly push herself back up to her feet. This was all that was needed to overcome her.
And like those stories told, before the kiss of the executioner’s blade came the chains that defined what sort of ‘mercy’ awaited. She struggled and kicked to try and get away. But one final act of defiance, grabbing a piece of slag metal with her talons and kicking it into their leader’s face, had immediately earned her a knife being slammed down into her throat.

Lying in a pool of blood, the avian kicked, thrashed, and writhed in agony. A mix of fear, bewilderment, and rage filled her head as her energy began to flee from her. When her body grew still, she stared off into the distance clinging desperately onto her consciousness. Things finally went dark when she saw a shadow loom over.
A few days later, she regained consciousness and found herself in an unfamiliar location. Her throat hurt as much as it did then, but a brush with her fingers revealed that she had been patched up. She kept her life at the cost of her voice, and to a heart crushing realization… her identity as a Drifter when she found that the Datapad had been ruined.

When she made a full recovery, she sought out the rabbit again.. and began to follow him despite his desires. To her… there was a mixed bag of feelings. Mostly debt, but other good hearted things as well. When her companion ship was finally accepted, they had eventually joined the Vigil together.

Skills

Close Combat: Back when she was with her tribe, she was trained like many feathered ones to be an avid hunter, and a fearsome killer when it counts. Maybe not in Vin's case. While hunting and archery stuck to her as poorly as glue does to something covered in flour... sword play, unarmed combat, and just general all out aggression was practically second nature to her. And when it comes to fighting, she strongly desires to just GET IN THERE! Well, contrary to her fast pace in and out fighting style.

Cooking: Even the feathered ones, whom are colloquially known as murder birds, have some softer traits to them. Well, maybe a few of them do. And if it's only a small number, Vin is in that group. After leaving her tribe to pursue her own agenda, and eventually entering a companionship with Irving Whitepaw, she began to look into other skill sets that she would enjoy. Cooking happened to be one of them. At first she was horrible. She could burn a salad, make meat as hard as a rock, burn dough before it could become bread, and some how make soup that was more toxic than cyanide (figuratively speaking on the last bit.) But over time she grew more skilled... and now she can make some interesting dishes without proper materials.

Lore: The reason why she left her tribe alone to become a drifter. She absolutely adores history, past beliefs, lore, and technology. She has developed a second nature to sniff out the story of a scene in derelicts in ruins, from skeletons, discovered notes, logs, and nearby structures. This little skill even helps her find some interesting tech, as a story can often times lead to discovery.

Perception: Not much can escape the eyes of a raptor. Unless it happens to be dark. Then well... she's blind as a deaf bat.

Hardlight Modeling: Spending years using hard-light both as a weapon, and a means to communicate eventually resulted in Vin having a near second nature of shaping things from imagination quickly while using hard light. This skill is mostly used as a form of communication by quickly projecting symbols and images into the air.

Equipment

Hard light Projectors Lvl III: Salvaged and prepped by Irving Whitepaw, these are small little circular RGB hard light projectors that lines her clothing. The main input device is clipped inside the feathers on her head, and further hidden under the head wraps. The input device reads the user's brain waves and transmit them to the projectors. These projectors form and solidifies a creation based on this input. This device is virtually Vin's only means of communication. In a pinch, it can be used as armor... but due to the brittle nature of phase hard-light it's often a last ditch method to quickly form a plate and soften a devastating blow by letting it shatter and disperse some or most of the energy. However, the creations can be used to produce some simple tools that can perform as long as there is enough structure to it, and the labor is not too rigorous for the material.

Hard-light Sword Lvl III: A militarized use of hard light technology, the hard-light sword is just that. A sword made of hard-light. The blades handle is the actual projector and proves to be quite heavy and durable for its size. The handle is capable of supporting a one and a half hand grip. When activated, the projector creates the blade and guard proper. The blade is durable.. and absurdly sharp. However, steel has one benefit over a hard light blade. It is softer. That is to say that while the hard-light blade is very hard, it is also brittle when compared to steel. Too much stress on the flat of the projection can result in the projection 'shattering'. Steel would simply bend a bit or catch the offender if it was cut into. After the blade shatters, the user is required to re-project the sword. Thus it is more beneficial if the user avoided blade to blade contact by dodging, or minimizing it by parrying. This problem doesn't seem to be too much of an issue on the edges of the blade, the hilt, or a thrust. However, the threat is still there.

Feathered One's Dagger: A dagger that acts as Vin's tribe's diploma for completing their training as hunters. The dagger is actually a durable seven inch drop-point knife. A ring is shaped into the blade's edge at the base, and is large enough to allow a finger or two inside. Half of the ring extends past the edge and remains flat. The pummel of the knife is a small but thick ring. And finally a feather is etched into the side of the blade. On the handle is a red wrap, which symbolizes that the owner is martially talented. And hanging from the pummel ring are a few charms. One from her mother, Reeva - a small charm fashioned out of a fang of a large creature she had slain. And another which symbolized "Pluck", meaning "Keep what you take, earn what you keep." And lastly, one charm to show that she had chosen to follow the path of the 'Drifter' - one who seeks, collects, and protects the past.

Broken Drifter's Datapad: While classified as level 3 technology. It's been reduced to a completely inoperable disaster in the ambush that had nearly stolen Vin's life. It contains data and lore from many months of exploring. Without the proper parts and tools to repair it, it's not worth much more than a glorified paper weight or an object to chunk into someone's face. In other words... just junk. But to her... it is still something worth dying over when there is just barely a fraction of a chance to fix it.

General Nonsense

Despite her small size and stature, Vin is a woman that eats and loves her food. You might look at the food in front of her and think that she's being wasteful. Then you'll find yourself staring in awe or horror as she's able to put it all away with minimum effort. It is a wonder how she weighs so little.

She's also a bit of a shit-talker in combat. That has not changed even after she has gone mute.

While Vin isn't very discriminating on the outside. The loss of her voice has made her more on-edge near other races when alone. Part of it is due to the dramatizing experience of human hatred and what would have happened before she was stabbed. And part of it is now due to the inability to make a sound that would likely draw attention. Frequent suspicious activity will make her nervous, and likely to cut someone down immediately if they make a move she does not like.

Shattered Plains

A wild area to the south of the Ventari Expanse. It is a land where the earth begins to rise up and break apart into a massive cluster of plateaus. The gaps between them are large and massive, and any bridges placed are mostly temporary. This land is called the Shattered Planes, and it suffers a regular, yet predictable cycle of super storms. High Storms, as what the local tribes call it, produce severe winds that can sweep away anything that is not secured to the ground, and harsh rains that can pulverize a living creature's bones to dust. Whats more is that internal tunnels and the gorges between plateaus will flood during these times and create dangerous rapids. Fortunately, these storms only appear two to three times a month best.

Strangely, while the geology of the plains is natural - it does have a foundation it was built from. It turns out that the entirety of the shattered plains holds a ruined city within it. Virtually all of the skyscrapers and buildings, collapsed, listing, or other wise are hidden within the plateaus built up from years of rapid erosion and deposition.

There are a few tribes around the area, and they have formed together to build a small but spread out community. One particular tribe is located near a source of history more ancient than what is currently seen. A source of old lore, books, and data banks... as well as relics from a much more distant past. This location is just called "The Archives" and has sprouted a new optional practice within the community. "The Way of the Scholar", is the best translation of the Ukanuqian language.

This practice has three major Branches.

"The Path of the Drifter" Often described to be a lonely, and dangerous life. Few take up the mantle, and glory would not be one of the reasons to do so. These are tribals whom travel and seek out, and collect new additions to add to the collection. They are often provided a datapad to collect lore to be eventually given to the Archives, and will fiercely defend it with their lives. While losing it is only seen as a set back, the owner will often be left dismayed.

"The Path of Librarian" which is a way of life where a tribal takes up the mantel of being a scholar. New and old discoveries are studied by librarians, who records their thoughts, theories, and beliefs.

"The Path of the Custodian" Plainly put, the guardians of the archives. Not only do they care for and maintain the archives, but they will fiercely defend it with their lives. And no mercy will be shown for those who dare threaten the sanctity of the archives.

I hope everything is in order!

EDIT: Redid the history. For the most part it is the same, just less rushed.

[Dogematix]

Very interested! I'm considering making a Cellva drafter (I normally go knight/warrior types so let's mix it up) I've just got a little question about how their charms or "spell list" works before picking my type of drafter.

It says the totemic style works with nanomachines and energy to alter their surroundings, in what way would they alter them? Like I can picture them interacting with AI and programs to navigate ruins and opening locked doors but does interacting with energy mean they can channel it to act like a more traditional "spell" as well like creating lightning or one use shields?

Edit: never mind, I just read over the character tab again and answered my own question lol now it's just a matter of picking between the two styles.

[FoxFire]

Naarrah Nuukis

<sub>Naarrah Nuukis| 15 | Furred Ukanuq

Nobody really knows where he or she goes in this life; the difference lies in that I, at least, have clear that I do not know…</sub>

Appearance:

Naarrah is part of the many species of Ukanuq that roam and settle the lands, while she mostly identifies as a female for convenience, her particular race, which calls itself the Shiriah, is made entirely of hermaphrodites. Of a slender and nimble body, she stands up to just 165cm., though what she might lack in apparent muscle mass she makes up in agility and dexterity. This is helped in great measure by being digitigrade. While her kind isn’t particularly strong by nature compared to many others of the Ukanuq, she is likely more so than a strong man a head or two taller. Compared to some of the Jotun which could rip her in half with no effort, that isn’t much to say.

A species whose members are only hermaphrodites is a rare sight but not one that is unheard of among the Ukanuq, though that is something completely different in the Holdings and the cities, where said knowledge has been something to be discriminated for, and, also, the first weapon ever used against her. In this manner is that by this point in time, Naarrah has learned to live and pass as a female, something that isn’t that hard considering her kind is of androgynous shape which is made harder to discern with their winter coats of fur. In the remaining seasons, Naarrah prefers to use loose clothing, specially greatcoats and ponchos, in the beginning to avoid suspicion and now as a habit inherited from the days when she lived in the snowy plains to the south of Vallstead. It is a plus that said coats can be customized and adapted to blend in with the surroundings when the need arises even so far from her home and in circumstances so different from their original purpose of hunting.

Naarrah’s species sheds their winter coat of fur each year; of this is exempt a scally tail that is as long as two times her height crowned by a tuft of fur at the end. Another curious fact is that in the place of her smaller finger on each hand, instead lies a second opposable thumb.

Contrary to what might be recommendable for a hunter, Naarrah has let her hair grow very long, which she ties into several braids, sometimes dyed in bright colours for her amusement. It is something hard to take care of and for this she is proud of it… Even when she had several try to grab them to slit her throat.

History:

Ever since she was very young, Naarrah has been in contact with the remains of before the Long Silence. She had been chosen and then raised by a witch, not the shaman of her tribe of Shiriah, but a renowned Ukanuq powerful enough that was said to take a pilgrimage to The Tear every ten years.

Of untold age, the witch, by the name Kirata’a, had trained a number of apprentices so large that is said that the first had been forgotten by the great-grandfather of the great-grandfather of the oldest surviving Ukanuq, even when their kind shouldn’t live a tenth of said time. Naarrah wouldn’t be anyone special in that long succession of chosen ones, however, with the sudden sickness of Kirata’a, everything changed. A young and scared Shiriah was taken to the deathbed of the witch and given a blessing. After that she was forced into a bed and tied until a dark liquid came from the now dead witch and entered her body. The numbing sensation was as terrifying as anything could be for the young Naarrah, causing her to hyperventilate until she passed out. She would wake up a week later to a tribe that revered her, despite that, no one could help control the new abilities which she would awaken involuntarily with time.

She knew she needed learn to take care of herself if she was to ever understand what kind of powers she held now within herself. Naarrah had always had the heart of a wanderer, now, that was to be her fate both by own hand and by the circumstances. There was something pulling her, pulling her towards different directions at the same time, telling her things nobody she knew could know, disjointed and probably useless knowledge, and taking her to places beyond the veil of the Long Silence when she was behind the veil of sleep.

Naarrah awoke many a night frantic and illuminated in a hypnapompic half-trance whishing she was where the shard of magic in her soul called. Thus, when she was old enough, when she learned enough to survive by her own means in the wilderness, then she left her tribe behind and headed towards the closest city: Vallstead.

In Vallstead she found a life a tracker and hunter, much like on her tribe, and learned from the circumstances that everyone wasn’t as honest as back home. That she was another shade of grey, though light she was, in a world where black and white didn’t really exist as more than concepts to define the greys by. They weren’t harsh lessons, but she was a good learner. Soon she would take her firsts jobs as a mercenary, without any kind of special recognition. She was another face in the crowd, even in the crowd of mercenaries. Naarrah left Vallstead after some time and decided to wander the cities of the Holdings. The treks were harsh, nonetheless, it wasn’t something she was unaccustomed to thanks to her previous life. So, with the shared purpose of arriving at other cities, she guarded caravans between them. Tracking in the snow was different than doing so the savannahs or in the desert, however, she managed to grasp the concepts much further than well enough.

Now Naarrah feels the pull in her soul ever stronger, the Shiriah is in Mournhold and now she knows, somehow, that what has been calling her is around Ashfoot. Because of it, now she has joined a krewe and appealed to become part of the Vigil under the Count of Mournhold.

Skills:

• Self-Healing: The main power granted to Naarrah by the witch seems to be the ability to heal from all wounds she has experienced in her life without fault or scar though it takes time. The Shiriah doesn’t know how far this ability extends though and she isn’t about to receive a grievous wound to find out, after all, if she managed to survive this long without really needing to use this ability except to get rid of scars that is a testament enough to her ability to survive, self-healing or not. Her worst punishment has been in the scale of breaking a few fingers and she isn’t sure if the ability can do much more. Maybe this is the reason the witch survived for so long, who knows?
• Manipulation of momentum and weight: Naarrah can manipulate the weight of small objects she is intimately familiar with to add or remove momentum or weight to them. They still weight the same to her in all moments though. For example, if she is to hunt a great beast she can make her arrows change to weight several hundred kilograms in mid-air without them losing momentum for a few seconds. Should she, by some strange reason, were to catch one of the arrows in mid-flight during that period of time though, their weight for her would be normal.
  
  As stated before, this can only be done with objects she is intimately familiar with. Taking a random stone and trying to kill a person with the same technique used in her archery would most likely result in nothing more than a bruise.
• Tracking: Her tribe was specialist in tracking through snow and cold climates. Through her travels, Naarrah has become an expert on tracking through almost any kind of terrain.
• Hunting: How useful would be to be able to track if she couldn’t hunt? Naarrah is an expert hunter, being able to bring down terrible beasts with ease through many means such as traps, archery and poisoning.
• Knowledge of poisons: Poison is a great equalizer for many small creatures such as spiders and scorpions, the tribe knew this in spite of their rare appearances, and respected it. Naarrah respects it too, that’s why she spent most of her life before being able to hunt, read childhood, in learning about the different poisons that exist in nature around her. With her more juvenile years she discovered how this could be applied to reinforce her already prodigious prowess as a hunter and with the passage of time and different environments, it was only a question of time until she was considered an expert, or maybe even an artist.

Equipment:

• Great bow: A powerful bow, longer than the height of its user in most cases. Its reach and accuracy are unrivalled in the lands from which Naarrah comes from and, up to this point, very few weapons have been able to compete with said legacy of the tribe of Shiriah.
  
  
  
• Assorted sharp instruments: Naarrah possesses a collection of sharp instruments and blades, many of which spend most of their time in her persona, the majority hidden and covered in some sort of toxic substance, from push-daggers to the equivalent of trench-knives.
• Inventory of poisons: The Shiriah always carries with her small doses of extremely concentrated poisons and their antidotes in case they are needed apart from her poisoned weapons. Also with her are implements necessary for the extraction and/or preparation of everything stated before.
• Capes and camouflage: As well as hunting, this tribesperson prides in her physical aspect, from being able to disappear in every environment she has been subjected to, to her clothes, meaning capes more than anything else. This is the reason she dyes her hair, secretly she tries to look her best in every circumstance were she can allow it.

General Nonsense:

Naarrah knows that is likely that her kind existed as pleasure toys for the humans before the Long Silence. It took her a long time to accept as the pain and stigma she didn’t deserve felt justified in some weird manner, but all the pieces fit. She received this knowledge in part through her life experiences and through the visions given to her by the power inherited from the witch.

Naarrah has clear in her mind that she is, at best, an average fighter and that she depends a lot on her bow and poisons to be able to do damage to more powerful enemies.

Visions sometimes come in unexpected moments, most last mere milliseconds in real time but some last more and Naarrah is always afraid to be caught in an important moment or even a life and death situation, by a vision.

Another disadvantage is that, while their species and similar ones are well known for their heightened senses, this also brings with itself a tremendous sensibility to pain.

[vietmyke]

Wow a lot of Ukanuq applicants, considering mine is planned on being one as well- almost done by the by, just finishing up history now

[Za Warudo]

Wow a lot of Ukanuq applicants, considering mine is planned on being one as well- almost done by the by, just finishing up history now

@vietmyke

I'm making a human, so it shouldn't be too furry focused :D

[boomlover]

Yeah i should get to work on mine. Dont be suprised when mine,s like a lot worse. XD

[vietmyke]

Irving Whitepaw

<sub>Irving Whitepaw| 19 | Ukanuq

Call me Snag-Tooth one more time and I'll use your skull as the shell for my next bomb!</sub>

Appearance:

A small Ukanuq by most standards, Irving stands at a diminutive 4'11", and weighs in at 150 pounds of compact sinew and fur. Despite his compact size, he is quite well built and sturdy, and has a stout and hardy strength that belies his shorter stature. His fur is a dark ash grey, save for his chest, paws- where his namesake stems from, and a strip of fur down the center of his face white, which are white. His large eyes are a deep amber in color, and long white whiskers are typically worn in a cocky smirk or a nasty grimace. Over most of his form Irving wears a tough leather overcoat with small steel plates woven in, and thick canvas breeches tucked into a pair of leather boots. Over his head he wears a leather cap, and over his hands he sports a pair of leather gloves. A cloth knapsack is attached to the back of his belt.

History:

A scavenger, salvager, and part time saboteur, Irving Whitepaw was born the first of eight sons of Alyssa Whitepaw and Darren Cragtooth. Or was it Alyssa Whitepaw and Hutch Longtail? Grig Cheks? Father for the most part unsure, and relative little importance, Irving was born into an all Ukanuq Krewe known as the Scarred Hides, based in Kragpool. Living in a Holding from birth, Irving grew up used to the general racism and ostracism by the other races and learned to cope with it in his own, fairly aggressive way.

As Ukanuq matured rapidly, and the life expectancy for a scavenger Krewe in Kragpool wasn't particularly long anyway, Irving was put to work just about as soon as he could walk and talk, his thin frame allowing him to fit into passages his adult Krewemembers could not. From the earliest times he could remember Irving had perpetually hammered into his brain what kind of scrap to look for while scavenging, what sold for the most, and what was the most useful, as well as what to avoid- all the while managing to outlive at least seven of his 'uncles' and all of his siblings while out in the wilds.

All things considered, Irving adjusted quite well into the life of a scavenger, managing to reach maturity without getting crushed, or blown up, or stabbed, or shot- at least not to the point of death. He spent his days travelling into the Rust Sea to find salvage and selling it in the marketplace, and his nights getting drunk and getting into fights. As he grew older, Irving also discovered that he knew enough about the technology he was scavenging that he could throw a few things together and reliably have it explode or otherwise cause harm and damage to impeding structures or flesh- depending on the situation.

At around the age of 9, Irving transitioned from scavenging to salvaging, taking technology, and rendering it in a more usable or convenient way, to be sold for more money and more favors. He'd still join Krewemembers on scavenging runs in the Rust Sea, except now, instead of picking through the scraps for things that might be useful, he led the small expeditions, picking out the things that they could use to build weapons or otherwise sell for profit.

The Scarred Hides, while never officially disbanded, ceased to exist when Irving turned 11. During a large scale expedition into the Rust Sea, under contract by a fairly wealthy patron in Kragpool, Irving and his Krewe ran upon another rival scavenging Krewe. Seemingly seeking the same artifacts for different patrons, a disagreement broke out between the two Krewes, which then led to a fight. Outnumbered and underarmed for a true conflict, the Scarred Hides found themselves beaten, broken and scattered, with Irving looted and left for dead in the Rust Sea.

Irving was found and saved by a group of Ukanuq Guerrillas, with whom he spent the next few years with. During this time, he repaid the guerillas for saving his life by fighting with them, learning subtitles of sabotage and guerilla warfare. He also built weapons and bombs for the group and served as their 'face' for a short while, the only one 'civilized' enough to interact in the Holdings without starting bloodshed. He never did pick up the mentality of a guerilla however, and after one too many arguments with the group's leadership, Irving struck out on his own and returned to the Holdings.

It was around this time that Irving ran into his current traveling companion Vin Kastral. By chance he came upon the feathered Ukanuq in the process of being chained down and kidnapped by a group of human slavers. The slavers looked somewhat bloody, and it looked like the ukanuq was more trouble than she was worth, because the slavers eventually stabbed her. With an uncharacteristic act of compassion, Irving rushed into their midst, and stabbed one of the slavers and shot another before the rest of them decided to cut their losses and run.

Though not a doctor, the injury was not as life threatening as it appeared, and after a appreciably shoddy bit of needlework, and a large amount of luck, Irving was able to save the ukanuq's life. Irving found that his random act of compassion had earned him a companion- not that he really wanted one. Though, after a week or two of the ukanuq following him around, he finally gave in and began to enjoy the quiet fellow's company.

The two traveled together for the next few years, during which Irving salvaged parts for a laser rifle, as well as some military grade hard-light generators which he managed to convert into Vin's blade and communicator. They eventually joined up with the Vigil, looking for a source of steady income in return for some of the only things Irving was good at.

Skills:

• Artificing - A salvager and machinist by trade, Irving is an adept at throwing scrap materials and tech together, generally resulting in objects that are explosive in nature. Though occasionally he is able to build more unique and functional equipment - such as Vin's communicator, such contraptions are usually a 50/50 shot- excluding the chance of spontaneous combustion.
• Sabotage - A natural saboteur, Irving is well practiced in guerrilla combat and the the art of underhanded destruction. Explosive traps, cutting fences, disabling machinery, destabilizing structures. With the right tools, Irving becomes a veritable living swiss-army knife.
• Marksmanship - While no sniper by far, Irving is a decent shot with his rifle. Preferring to fight from beyond arms reach, Irving is an appreciably accurate shot with his laser rifle and generally engages at medium ranges.
• Close Combat - While he prefers ranged combat, Irving is not opposed to engaging in close quarters battle. While capable of holding his own against others in a stand up fight, Irving rarely enters melee combat straight on. Instead, he prefers to sneak up on enemies, and use surprise and flanking attacks to defeat larger foes.
• Stealth - Despite Irving's abundance of loud-noise causing contraptions and inventions, Irving's background and history with guerrilla fighting techniques has instilled in him the values of stealth, and he understands its concepts fairly well, even if his general practices are rather contrary.

Equipment:

• Bolt-Action Laser Rifle - Level III - (Ignore the scythe blade) The remains of an ancient weapon, gutted, and placed inside a wooden shell, Irving's rifle is a high powered energy weapon. After firing, the rifle generates a large amount of heat, stored in a heatsink, which must be released by opening the bolt. Heat sinks generally have to replaced every half dozen shots. In front of the trigger is a small black box- from the original weapon itself, where the energy source can be inserted.
• Multi-Tool - Level III - A variety of tools conceivably used by those in ancient times. While too small and light to be useful for modern day applications, it interacts extremely well with ancient tech. It posses a pry bar, small steel rods that can remove the bindings of ancient technology (screwdrivers and wrenches), pliers, a monofilament saw, corkscrew, and even a micro-torch.
• Scrap Grenade - Level II x2 - A pair of handmade bombs, filled with scrap materials. A metal pin around the center keeps the bomb safe until ready to be thrown.
• Curved Blade - A foot long steel scythe blade- not uncommon on modern day farming tools. Affixed to a sword handle and secured in a leather wrapped wooden scabbard.
• Steel Knuckles - At the knuckles of Irving's gloves are bits of steel, they focus the force of Irving's blows into harder, more concentrated points.
• Leather Overcoat - A tough leather coat with steel plates woven on the inside. Provides appreciable levels of protection without sacrificing too much mobility.

General Nonsense:

Irving is often referred to as a smartass, and his fairly aggressive and sarcastic disposition doesn't do much to win him friends. He does however have a strong sense of loyalty, and refuses to leave debts unpaid- a small sense of racial pride granted to him during his short stint with ukanuq guerrillas.

He does however, take great care to keep his dealings with ukanuq guerrillas secret, due to the general public's disposition towards them. He has not talked about them since his departure from the guerrillas themselves.

He's Rocket Raccoon. Except a rabbit.