Once upon a time, there was a Faraway Land. It was a land of magic, a place of mythical creatures and dangerous monsters, the home of mighty heroes and deadly villains. It wasn't always that way, though. Many eons ago, it was a desolate place, whose simple inhabitants struggled endlessly for survival. Then, great vessels appeared in the sky and deposited humans upon the earth. These humans scattered abroad and remade the world to their liking, and in so doing, made it a better place. For the first time in millennia, the natives flourished, not merely scraping by, but truly living and enjoying life. Humans, too, lived in harmony with the planet, and in blissful isolation from their home culture, they advanced further than ever before.
But the peace didn't last long. One day, a hole appeared in the sky, and through it poured millions upon millions of black monstrosities from the underworld. They swept through the planet, killing and terrorizing everything in their path. The humans hastily constructed five mighty fortresses, called Havens, throughout the continent to repel the invaders, and a great battle ensued. But they were sorely outmatched. With billions of invaders piling along the edges of the continent, each one more than a match for any human soldier, the fortresses fell in a matter of hours. Humanity came to the brink of extinction on the world.
Then, from the dust of the ground, twelve tremendous beasts rose to existence. Bearing immense power over the elements, they fought the invaders and drove them back to the hole whence they came. The humans called them Guardians. The beasts sealed the portal and retreated to the furthest corners of the earth, where they would remain in case the invaders ever returned. Before they left, however, one Guardian gave to humanity power over magic. Using this newfound power, the survivors sought to rebuild their war-torn world. The environment had taken a turn for the worse, and the creatures that once lived in peace had turned violent. To facilitate survival in this new world, the survivors turned to genetic engineering. They designed the tough, hardy Orcs to live in the desolate north, the agile, perceptive Elves to live in the treacherous forests, and the short, durable Dwarves to live in the western caves. More importantly, if the invaders ever returned, they would have to reckon with the new and improved humanoid subspecies specifically tailored to defeat them.
Centuries passed. The memory of the war faded into legend, and thence into myth. The subspecies forgot their common heritage and began to see each other as aliens. War broke out, and it wasn't long before the entire continent was embroiled once again in a bloody struggle for superiority.
You will begin this story as a resident of this world. Whether you arrived here from the modern world through a portal or grew up here from your youth, you're here now. A dragon, one of the Guardians, has kidnapped the Princess of Dragan and holds her at the center of Stonehune Volcano, in Westhaven Tower. The King of Dragan has summoned All Able Adventurers to come to his palace to prepare for her rescue. On the way there, you'll receive a letter that changes everything...
How did she get here? Miles from the wreckage, a little girl, no older than a tot, trudging through Northern snow on diminutive legs. Pudgy with frost pasted to her face, positively freezing, and drained in her delirium; near unconscious. The staggering, abandoned soul dared to fall into the frozen bank. (Her story nearly ended there.)
She was caught. Hoisted before a bonfire, where within a smoke-suffused indentation in the mountain face, a lone adventurer's apparatus turned ice to fresh water. His last image of her was framed in the fur of the freshly-slain beast, whiskers tickling her forehead; her eyes pooled with wonder as the adventurer led her true family towards her through the backing incandescence of the flame. Meanwhile, the child sat in ponderance as the orc's footsteps vanished in the blizzard's white haze. In a few years, she might think to follow them.
For now, another unaffiliated party had discovered the wreckage, what remained of the minister and his wife buried under slabs of splintered-off wood. And, of course, in a neighboring hollow.
Miles from her birthplace — one so long forgotten, it proves insignificant to her —, a little girl, no older than thirteen years, wields the tallest staff she can possibly brandish in hopes of feeling taller. The offspring of elf and dwarf — either so long forgotten, she wished their memories would prove insignificant sooner or later —, it's blatant where the latter succeeded in stature, the former in musculature; the girl's both bungling and willowy with point-ears and button nose. Who the owl-eyes came from is uncertain. And Édain herself refuses many things: a smaller stick, for one. To cut her hair, ash-blonde and braided, as well. And to change the pelt blanketing her attenuated shoulders and psuedo-developed form, the flank of the "mystery beast" whose identity has stumped all her compatriots thus far. It's fun to imagine she slayed it herself, even when it starts to smell a tad.
Background: A sorcerer born into the equivalent of dwarven luxury in Westhaven, the Minister had power; with that came privilege, namely the exclusivity to confidentiality. Unknowingly, he united with a seafaring elf maiden, a merchant and a witch, labeled the latter due to dabbling in unscrupulous magical arts: rituals, oaths, and the people of Stonehaven later gossiped frantically amidst themselves about evidence of necromancy. But, at the time, the Minister and his mistress practiced their arts undiscovered. The Minister, of course, had a true wife to which fellow dwarves would not throw up arms over controversial bloods like "incidental mixed blood offspring" and the like. Unfortunately, when such became a reality for the Minister with his not-as-true wife, and with Édain, the reality of the secret affair became irrefutable. As it dawned on him and his partner, and on his traditional dwarven wife who awoke to his absence, a change of scenery was necessitated. They fled with their child to the mountains about Midhaven, in which they were discovered in the midst of their getaway, trailed, and thusly devastated by a patrol of elves. Their mutt was left behind.
...
Powers, Abilities, & Equips: ... Desired Class: Mage Character Flaws: Fragile in psyche and stature. In her youth and blistering fear of abandonment, she labors to validate all who have done good to her. ... Famous Quotes: ...
Whipped something up, very much a work-in-prog. Was looking for more info on the world, particularly on how the different subspecies live. Are they segregated by region? Would it be uncommon for a member of a subspecies to live in a region they weren't originally engineered for? Would it be outright forbidden? And some more general world-building info that would help me build my sign-up: What, alongside the Kingdom of Dragan, are the main governing bodies of the Faraway Land? Are there other defining aspects of the three subspecies that can't be inferred from other fantasy series? Are there only the orcs, elves, and dwarves as existing humanoid subspecies?
Since I'm looking to build a mage character, too, do you have any preexisting expectations or, like, concepts for how magic might exist in the Faraway Land, or is it entirely free-form? I'm thinking Édain might draw spells from nature, maybe dabble with the four elements as they're commonly known (might also subvert a little in that category, like bring back wood, lol), with some "dark magic" influence. Maybe even summoning?
On my end regarding world-building, through my char's background, I want to establish being an "adventurer" as this sort of rogue occupation that appeals to idealists, as well as there being a collection of nomadic "witches" outcast from society based on the types of sorcery they practice; alongside being stigmatized within most societies, the magic itself could have a mental toll, leading to obsessiveness that later incites near-total isolation and monomaniacal study.
And if there are some discrepancies with my WIP so far, definitely hmu, especially regarding any unintentional tonal or setting dissonance. (For the later, I'm assuming this is high fantasy with medieval-era technology. If you intended for there to be other cultural influences in terms of names, dress, language, social standards, etc., let me know!)
Magic is the art of turning soul energy, or "mana," into physical energy. Mana binds the spirit to the body. A spirit is the "spark" that gives you life; it's what makes the difference between a corpse and a person. A corpse has all the ingredients for life, but without that "spark," or spirit, it will remain a corpse. Mana is needed to keep your spirit attached to your body, but most people have enough that expelling some of it won't kill them. Sleep is often sufficient to replenish it.
However, mere humans don't have much mana to spare, relatively speaking. Demons, and Voidspawn to a lesser extent, possess considerably more, enough to destroy whole worlds with nary a thought. So some humans will make contracts with demons to gain access to their great mana reserves and become "witches" and "warlocks" in exchange for letting the demon absorb an equivalent or greater quantity of mana from other people. However, if the seller uses more mana than the demon absorbs and becomes incapable of restoring the balance, the seller's soul becomes forfeit. Most sane individuals would rather not face the moral dilemmas and risks associated with such an arrangement and avoid it like the plague. __________
The most populous species are humans, elves, orcs, and dwarves. Humans are characterized by their long lives (max 120 years), superior strength, dexterity, and durability. Elves trade strength for improved senses, and they can usually see, hear, smell, taste, and feel with more acuity than most other races. However, they are quite spindly, and their strongest male bodybuilders are little stronger than a typical human female soldier. Thus, the elves rely heavily on magic for their strength, and have developed superior mana reserves as a result. They tend to live in the eastern forests where they can draw upon the ambient mana to boost their powers. Their unnaturally long lives come not from any genetic ability, but from anti-aging spells. Without them, their average lifespan is about 50+ years.
Orcs are the polar opposite of elves. Ordinary orcs are at least as strong as some of the best human bodybuilders in the world, but their senses are about half as good. Big objects, loud noises, pungent smells, and such don't bother them. Magic requires a certain finesse that the dull senses of the orcs usually doesn't allow, so very few, if any, are capable of using it. Most live in the barren Fellmoran desert up north.
Dwarves are a little odd here. They're basically humans, but considerably shorter. Unlike in most fantasy lores, dwarves and halflings are both the same species; it's just that beardlessness is a heritable trait that some dwarven communities gather around. Most dwarves live in or around the dormant volcano out west.
All four major species are ruled by a monarch. Alexander Dragan rules the humans, Erudessa Durvain rules the elves, Innocent Patronus III rules the dwarves, and Throk of Westpier rules the orcs. There are other races in the world, like centaurs, fauns, satyrs, gnomes, gremlins, goblins, and such like, but they are not nearly as populous as the major four.
Technology is a little strange out here. Magic freely intermingles with it, and it's not uncommon to find a swordsman watching a video on his magic tablet while wizards rocket around in experimental steam-driven carriages. Dwarves tend to focus more on the tech side of things while elves focus more on the magic side of things. Orcs have neither the time nor the resources to focus on either, since they're too busy struggling to survive the harsh climates and incessant raiding parties.
So I guess technology is more Renaissance Era than Medieval.
Decided. This isn't finished, but a short beginning.
Name: Ravadon of Xyllodan (Rav, Don, Ravaladon of Meramune, Ravaladon of Aven.) Image: How you got here: By boat.
Background:
The ballad of the first leaf. Ravadon was born, as youngest of 3, into a wealthy family, “Sroon Aven, Safeffe Aven, Ravadon Aven.” The city of AvenHault was even named after their family. However, when his birth was taking place, the town was under a heat wave. His mother barely had the power to allow for his birth. Being stuck halfway, the doctors decided to cut him out of his mother. The dagger that pierced her, hit the baby in his eye-lid. And surprisingly enough, the baby dropped out the natural way. The father had caught Ravadon. And of course, he was a man and did what men do in this culture when they see a small smirk of blood. They whipe it off, firmly. Which is how he got his name. It then also means “The emperor comes, the blooded beggar leaves.” Ravadon, already marked for life from before being born, would be holding grudges against his family. Though they were important as landlords of the city, providing both the wealthy and the poor with homes, they were not the uttermost wealthy living in town. This was not given knowledge to the general public.
The ballad of branches. Mallock Aven, his father, provided him with all his siblings no longer required. Be it a set of cooking pots, princess gowns or an expired horse. Needless to say, he had access to all he desired. Parental love, great compassion for things handed down to him and, of course, the cleaning and scrubbing tools he needed to take care of his personal beauty. This made him look more than decent enough to marry any woman he’d so desire. Even the kings daughter, Melanoi was not out of his reach. But he missed something, something that couldn’t be rewarded by it being given to him. He had a desire for his own glory, possessions and earnings denied to him. His urge became nearly an obsession as it was denied to him so fiercely. “Oh, my boy, why would you go and risk your life working or fighting, when you can freely get your siblings bard to write tales about you?” ‘My boy’. Oh, how he disliked those words beyond compare. It was his mother’s way of telling him he wouldn’t be able to do it, though she told him in that same conversation that he could do anything he wanted. His mother taught him many things, though she knew not that she taught him to twist words and drive through his will, even unto others. At the age of 12, this young boy had been a happy, hunger-free scrap-user.
The ballad of fall. 13. The year everything changed. Ravadon rebelled against his parents and their protective behavior. Ravadon would go and get himself in all sorts of trouble. The time he set ablaze a corrupt guards house was the cherry on the cake for him and the droplet that breaks the bucket for his parents. Not only would they beat him, disown him and get him thrown in jail, they planned on doing it did it publicly. A wealthy patron of the circus heard(by spying of course, the siblings bards were well undercover) about this young ambitious risk-taker. Not hesitating, he told the family he could take the boy on an adventure with the circus. It would take them past mages and monsters, though not actually being in harms way. In return, he would drop (on their very table as they stood there looking at it) more gold(in special wealth-people coins) than their family had ever earned combined and multiplied. The little rebel caught notion of what was discussed in the room next door. He had, in fact, spend time learning things from bards rather than instructing them. As soon as the table was filled, Ravadon learned the way greed was a motive his parents upheld. He decided to not deny himself such pleasure..
The ballad of promise.
Having taken part of the money his parents were given, the young boy, a teenager now, was sent off on a journey that would change his life. In more ways sorrow than the little hero would know. Being saved public embarrassment, he proceeded to be more lenient towards his new caretakers. They let him do all the things he wanted all by himself. He wanted to start a fire, he could gather the rocks, the wood and figure out a way to make it spark. He wanted to sleep late in a tavern, the circus left him behind. Life was well for the young man as he sought out a person to be his master at arms. After all, if he was going to make a name for himself, he would do it by having monsters slain by his own hand. It didn’t take long for him to realize there was only one person that could tell him, who of all the capable people could be his trainer, the old blind sage that owned the fate-telling section of the circus. He entered the room. Cards would represent his future.
Ballad of Cards The first card was that of the warrior. The second was a map, travel along a road. The third was the card of ballads, song and praise. The fourth was a card of powerful magical conflict. The fifth displayed a serpent, more specifically, a wyvern. The sixth was a ‘lady death’ card. The last was a family tree, the symbol for birth and life. The old man told him.. ‘Sonny, you are destined for something great. Never let anyone tell you you’re not worth what you work for. These cards will fade.. as does time… This is the last time I will read cards. There’s no more to see.. Keep the cards. Let them remind you and keep you from fear. The promise remains.. and until fulfilled, you shall not die.” The winter would follow would caused bandits and marauders to attack caravans and travelers. The boy was going home. He had been traveling for a year now. The circus came back to the town they left during its 14th year of existence.
The ballad of Ice.
A warrior card, surely it would be him! He said to himself as he rolled into town with the circus. He could completely picture it. The trumpet sounds as he arrived, becoming a master swordsman. Battle-noises and the ecstatic screams of the women and children all loving him and his glory. The towns bells being rang. Fire, Fire! Fight, Fight! All chanting as he stepped forward to defeat his enemies. Bar the doors! Hide the women and children! They totally wanted to capture him and a glimpse to bask in his glory. Protecting their women and children from his good looks, afraid to lose them. The Hunara bandits are attacking! The hunara.. wait what?
It was not long before the town was overrun. Big and mighty basilisks broke through the walls of the city. The guards were either dead or about to be. The horses were captured, the bears released. One of the bandits picked up the boy from the wagon. Ha! I found one for the stake! Ravadon couldn’t resist the grip from the bandits firm armored grasp. He was carried and thrown unto before the leader of the Hunara, Cho Samoth. “Tell me, why should you be left alive?” Ravadon spilled on how he would be a warrior. Cho laughed at the little boy. Threw a 2-handed great-sword at his feet and told him to pick it up. The boy tried as best he could. Lifting the handle unto one of his shoulders, Cho tested him. “Tell me, why do I want a warrior when I have so many?“ Barely able to hold himself up, Ravadon answered him. “Because I’m the face you need to keep your gold and your people. I can read, I can write. I can provide you into the house of might!” He thought of his greedy parents and how he’d always forget the key in a pot nearby the entrance. “Go on!” Cho commanded. Sending 2 guards with the boy. And surely, he came back with every last penny paid for his release unto the circus. His family now brought before Cho. Cho asked the boy a final question: “What is more.. a son or a coin?” The family assumed they were home free and started hugging already. The real shock came when Ravadon’s answer came: “A coin.” The Hunara bandits razed the village. With the gold payed for him, the entire kingdom would follow soon. Cho ordered one of his recruiters to take care of the boy. To pay him a single coin and murder everyone before him because they deemed him not capable of killing anyone with his weak arms. The warrior card in his hand faded. The old man that had given him the cards had a request. To bleed over the coin as he died. The old man, by chanting a few spells enchanted the coin to supply an endless amount of blood at dripping speeds. The boy was now traumatized even worse. Every person he ever knew kneeled before him and died. The years that followed he would travel many miles. And until he was powerful enough to replace and bring justified death unto Cho, he would be one of them.. A bandit with Stockholm Syndrome. He was kept in a cage the first 3 months. He went from fighting chickens to fighting boars and even cows. This boy was brought up to be strong. He earned 1 coin every fight he won. After that time, the latest of captains in the Hunara ranks got assigned to train the boy. He taught him backstabbing, sword fighting and which types of species he could expect to encounter in the journey. It did not help him a lot that before then he was helpless when he was also sexually abused by this very person for 3 months long.
Ballad of Mead.
But the training persevered… In the cities they heisted, bombarded and plundered, Ravadon was the one sneaking around telling the hidden children to remain hidden. Bringing out weak and feeble old men that wanted to die fighting if he absolutely had to. He proceeded to be a man with very little patience. And with a child offering him a coin he was reminded why he was that way. You cannot get praise without people to praise you… it started gaining on him. His morals were now so backwards from what they were. He clenched the coin and put it in his blooded coin bag. It was time… In the highway tavern he gathered the coins he had and threw a party. Cho was amused by his new protégé. “First he works for coins, now he’d spend them on the person who paid him.” The party was a success.. or rather.. reason to excess. Drunk. And that’s exactly what he needed. To get them all nice and slow. While sniffing through Cho’s stuff he remembered what they always said about him. “A wench without a future.”… Would he really crave the praise from thugs? No.. that just isn’t right. Besides.. everyone laughed at him anyways.. The childs coin was burning on his moral conscience. Had he really forgotten who he was… No… the blood in his bag was proof of who he was. He might have had a promise, but it was his moment to make it happen. He found Cho’s private journal. In full amazement, he found out everything about the Hunara. Their safewords, their treasury.. their purchase history… everything. Though his normal memory was superb. Everything in song he would know forever. He would remember, no matter how bad the rhythm…
And humming to himself as he went towards the tavern, he considered his options… being a lousy bandit for the rest of his life or try to get word out somehow and end this madness. He’d need a real distraction.. people wanting him to go do something else… He might know a messenger, but it would take too long to reach him on foot without someone noticing. If he could even remember what to say…
As he approached the tavern, he knew heard singing in different tones and it made him almost forget his song. He needed to write it down or have them sing it. He wouldn’t get away from these people, neither have a shot at that journal again for.. too long. The journal’s locations would have all been changed by then. But how? Who was going to listen to him? Even if he had their attention, He couldn’t learn these men to read. They were too uncultured.. they wouldn’t know ‘fine wine’ from ‘toxic poison’ until they drank it. He couldn’t hope to teach them the song by letting them read it … By singing, though..
It struck him. Irony! A joke!
He knew he could let them sing along if they were drunk. He knew he could dance and keep anyone serious from shutting him down. He knew how to get to Cho, he knew the locations of all the Hunara hideouts..
He just needed something to make a noise.. or a.. dynamic entry! Taking his options into consideration, he would have to do it tonight. The full moon was upon him. He crawled up the tavern side, took out one of the swords he’d received over the many years and cut a hole into the roof. He left the lid on, but he would have to remember it’s spot in pitch darkness..
He came in ignoring everyone and everything. As did most of the people there. The central fire which lit the room, he swiftly threw a cloak over. The room was suddenly in an angry uproar. A swooping dagger sounded. Moonlight came unto a table. A table with one person standing on it. The room turned to see Ravadon shout “Cho is fat, cho is wet!” As he scooped a drinking horn from the table and bit of its end to use it. The room was needle drop dead silent. A few blades left their sheath. As he started to produce a tune on the horn and throbbing his foot against the floor, the people started slapping and clapping along on the table. “Cho is fat, cho is wet” The other musicians started playing along, the people who now were certain of what the young boy said, started laughing and dancing. As he took a small torch and threw it back on the central fireplace, he could leave the spotlight. The song Was loud through the tavern. He blew his horn mighty and started to sing the second part. “Rav is way better, he is from Meramune!” Some people now got slightly offended and started coming after him. He started running and dancing his way through the room. It may have been the chaos, the spotlight entry, the very many liters of ale, just plane luck.. but all of his moves were copied. The dancing prevented him from getting caught. He jumped from table to table, avoiding the angry crowd. Ant there was laughter when they tripped, there was joy when he kicked mugs at them. The place became alive and every note he’d add to the song the people would savor for hours on end. Eventually Cho himself stood up. The atmosphere completely made a 180.”Enough. I’ve heard enough. “ He stook out his arm. The smile on Ravadons face turned to a surprised and serious one. Depending on what followed he might get slaughtered by all of the tenor and the bass “You! You are our new bard! Someone get him some paper! And take it from the top. This will be our anthem song for the ages!“ He rose his hand and landed back on his seat. “A toast to the hero of the East!” The entire room toasted along. “To Ravadon of Meramune!” Laughter broke out and the singing started all over again. Paper, song.. He could send himself a letter! Giving the unreadable letter to his contact, he would sneak into the next city “exploring.” But in reality warning the authorities and getting back at cho for what he took from him.
The ballad of Roses. The morning came. The courier had done his part. As planned he went in and scouted the city streets, arriving openly for the king. As the king was highly confused by the letter that he received only earlier that day. When He sang a song about himself, Ravadon of Meramune, he remembered every last word of the journal. The king was shocked to hear he was willing to trade his entire band of bandits in for a single coin. The king brought a choir. As Ravadon directed the choir, he presented the information to the general and the scribes. Hence forth he became known as Ravadon of Meramune. And (ironically enough) the capital city of Meramune rewarded him with a home, access to inform the army while they were at war with the Hunara and even a family. He was renowned throughout the city. He was given a place on the battlefield. Little did he know, his journey card had become faded. As he was in the mages tower where they thought him to enchant and evoke, he undertook travel to various caves and often. He was always the first to get the treasury of the Hunara. He’d ensure to take the very best piece of equipment before telling the king of what he found. Logically, the king would tax him over what he found. Leaving him with a green cape(dark on the inside with cowl, without face mask), Half armored in a shoulder pauldron with breast-piece both metallic in color, various swords. But most important of which Excelsis Deo. A weapon that could be infused with enchantments without ever running out or forgetting which it has had before. Gloves of Red icesteel, armguards of red icesteel were his reward for helping these old few wizards and enchanters.
Reinforced fur boots(fur shin-guards, metallic boots), he created himself.
Besides the ballads and the praise in every tavern, a transparent belt with metal-wooden buckle of brute force was his reward from the king.
A short and finely woven white scarf around his neck, hid away the amulet of a blooded coin.
A sky-blue tunic that was torn on the upper part of his left sleeve, a small red kilt revealing the muscled shape of his thighs made up the rest of his own purchased clothes.
Yes, they did know how to spell fashion, sadly.. He protected the kingdom for 5 years. In that time he’d not only won the hearts of the people, but also of the king.
And the king would gift him his daughter and a kingdom with it. Ravadon would have accepted.. but living with his wife becoming a concubine, there would be very little problems. The only true problem that would arise was that the king had 2 daughters. Soon Ravadon would know to either demand both or to reject an offer. Both of these women looked gorgeous. Both were proficient in the use of magic. But one had the character of a serpent, the other of a little girl. As their ages did differ a subtle 9 years. His natural inclination was to choose the older, the serpent. But after seeing how she would use transmutation and evocation to try and actually kill her sister, no money involved or anything, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted.
Ravadon would now build himself up to choose one of the 2 ladies to be his lawful wife. He entered the chamber where he’d make the decision only to find the two ladies throwing around spells at each other. As fire and goo flew through the room, he dived in to protect the young from the serpent. The older sister was even more outraged that he wouldn’t choose her over “that little tree huger”. She rampaged. She transmutated herself to be a dragon. More specifically, a wyvern. The wyvern breathed fire through the chambers and through the halls of the city. It was rampaging, destroying buildings, families and ruining life everywhere.
By an ancient divination spell, the young daughter (who had magical resistance and was still bleeding) stabilized the one she loved. Ravadon was now unconscious. As she looked at the hopelessness of the situation, she could do no other… She, Xyllodan, would take Excelsis Deo and fell the beast. As she grew wings of eagles, she flew up high, mightily high. She’d smitten the foul beast with a ray of lightning. The creature was now de-winged. It tried to get away as best she could, but she was no match for the weapons strikes. As her sister laid bleeding out, she would turn her into a dead tree.. never to harm anyone again. Upon flying back to her lover she realized he’d been awakened by the clashing of the sword and the skull of the creature. The girl now granted him the sword. As He took it, an idea flashed into his mind. A helmet. He might have been a mighty slayer of creatures.. but a helmet would be so much safer! He proceeded to marry Xyllodan. For he would be renamed again for slaying the beast. The young sister didn’t have great curves, but people recognized the blade used to slay the beast. The 2 made for a lovely couple. He would act big and dance a lot, she would be doing the actual political work. To his surprise the card was still glaring. Maybe this was something for later.. He made a helmet from the wood of a magical tree in the middle of the capital city. He would know it to be mere wood, but it could do great for protecting him. As time moved forward, the problems started. First it was conflict over who should get credit for stopping the wyvern, next there was the discussion of who should own the sword, the fight over the wooden helmet not being safe enough.. with every victory and successful protection of the city another fight would be waged in their marriage. Ultimately, he would be away for many days before he got back. In that time, he never noticed how his helmet had a strange red eye growing on its side. Because of him being away so often, his council ordered him to share his knowledge of his scripts, ballads with his wife. The woman would do the same in return. The rest of the time passed on. And again more and more fighting came over time. There was no helping it. But this time, yes, this time she could read his encrypted writing. The very writing he used as a journal the night of the sisters fight. And in it, there was the, to her accursed, claim that he would not choose her as a first pick. And this was that moment… the card burned. The magical conflict was over. She confronted him about his texts, he assumed this would pass. He tried to comfort her by saying she had won a great prize. In her return she’d slap him across the face. He would get angry and try to leave. She would scream out “open fire” as she transmuted, all that was left of the Hunara would jump from the shades. Realizing her betrayal, he lost his cool.. he lost all of his promising futures.. as he drew his sword the serpent card burned halfway through. Yet another wyvern was slain at the hands of a wielder of Excelsis Deo. He took the skin and got it wrapped around his helmet. A real dragon helmet. What more than appeal would a man need? The hero paraded the streets… but the people knew.. the people all knew.. Their kingdom now under rule of a man who had only eye for himself. They denied him the crown. They wouldn’t mind him joining a protectors or mercenary guild, but a lord he wouldn’t be while they lived. His price? But a single coin. He spend the rest of his days hunting all threats that weren’t a serpent, wyvern or a dragon. He knew what it would mean if he did.. the next card would not be in his favor… Having lost the will to live due to his ballads no longer being sung, he prepared himself to be old. The nation was re-using clockworks and he had no intention of giving up self-earned glory. He dropped out of society and started to travel by his last name… and that last name would come back to haunt him. He sought out dragons, wyverns, truly any beast of magical or powerful origin he hunted. Acquiring ropes, languages and more paper for him to write ballads on. It had been so very long. He sought out a spirit to grant him power beyond the promise of the card he held in his hand. He wanted it to make him a legend. A hero beyond compare. She said she had the answer for both cards and she’d fulfill his every dream for glory and power. She imbued(enchantment) his helmet with the power he desired. It would take the spirit of a beast first, though. Any beast he’d take would do, but she had a special one for him.
He sought out the cave she'd mentioned. As the cards burned in his hand, he walked in through a crack in the rocks. After a brief moment of flailing his bodyparts in any direction, he plunged face first into sandy floor of the human city Southhaven.
Powers, Abilities, & Equips:
Handy: Both left-handed and righthanded for sword fighting or ranged attacks. Excelsis Deo: A blade that sings the songs of Ravadon and makes the songs words come to life for a second. (i.e. the word tree makes a frame of wood surround the sword.) An appealing peeling of a peel peers apparently feel: Oddly sexy when eating fruit or vegetables.
Desired Class: Bard / fighter. Character Flaws: Overconfident in his own abilities. Obscured vision in his left eye. Bad temper when sleepy. Horrible handwriting. Holds bad grudges. Self-justification. Extreme vanity. Proud snob. Greedy. lusty. Famous Quotes: "Vegetables before dinner!"
Every so often, an individual will appear with a + cross symbol on their right hand. It's partially heritable, but sometimes distributed irrespective of heritage. The individual upon whom it appears gains immense talent and incredible strength in their area of expertise. They can develop their skills at a supernatural pace, gaining mastery beyond their elders in a matter of months, weeks, or even days. Thus far, the Mark has only been granted to those with strong moral compasses. While its origin is a mystery, a certain white-haired elf is always seen at or around its appearance.
The Mark also sometimes appears upon multiple individuals at the same time. Thus far, there live three people who are known to have it.
The existence of demonic contracts is a perfect vein for that "stigmatized (dark) magic" I was aiming to allude to through Édain. I might allude to King Patronus the Third in her sign-up as well, in regards to her father.
Poor orcs seem to have it pretty bad out there! I'd imagine they'd be easy to stereotype as a bunch of dumb brutes by members of the other subspecies.
But technology has a sort of steampunk-ish vibe to it, too. I will definitely keep Renaissance in mind. That era's appealed to me for a while, so that's pretty cool! I might make some tweaks to Édain as a whole to reflect that interest.
@Thinslayer Any class you want me to play? Could you also describe what the desired class means?
The available classes are the usual fantasy ones. Fighter, Mage, Ranger, Rogue, Cleric, Paladin. Player characters don't have to immediately start out in a class; it can be later assigned to them at an early point in the story.
The elves have a mildly different conception of these classes. Paladins are always female, Fighters are always knights, Rangers and Rogues are patrol infantry, and Mages and Clerics are ruling class. They still perform their usual class roles.
Please choose whatever clasd you feel best suits the story.
@Thinslayer If I don't want to be an elf that's okay right? What races are availible?
@Juicy Those are excellent questions!
Magic is the art of turning soul energy, or "mana," into physical energy. Mana binds the spirit to the body. A spirit is the "spark" that gives you life; it's what makes the difference between a corpse and a person. A corpse has all the ingredients for life, but without that "spark," or spirit, it will remain a corpse. Mana is needed to keep your spirit attached to your body, but most people have enough that expelling some of it won't kill them. Sleep is often sufficient to replenish it.
However, mere humans don't have much mana to spare, relatively speaking. Demons, and Voidspawn to a lesser extent, possess considerably more, enough to destroy whole worlds with nary a thought. So some humans will make contracts with demons to gain access to their great mana reserves and become "witches" and "warlocks" in exchange for letting the demon absorb an equivalent or greater quantity of mana from other people. However, if the seller uses more mana than the demon absorbs and becomes incapable of restoring the balance, the seller's soul becomes forfeit. Most sane individuals would rather not face the moral dilemmas and risks associated with such an arrangement and avoid it like the plague. __________
The most populous species are humans, elves, orcs, and dwarves. Humans are characterized by their long lives (max 120 years), superior strength, dexterity, and durability. Elves trade strength for improved senses, and they can usually see, hear, smell, taste, and feel with more acuity than most other races. However, they are quite spindly, and their strongest male bodybuilders are little stronger than a typical human female soldier. Thus, the elves rely heavily on magic for their strength, and have developed superior mana reserves as a result. They tend to live in the eastern forests where they can draw upon the ambient mana to boost their powers. Their unnaturally long lives come not from any genetic ability, but from anti-aging spells. Without them, their average lifespan is about 50+ years.
Orcs are the polar opposite of elves. Ordinary orcs are at least as strong as some of the best human bodybuilders in the world, but their senses are about half as good. Big objects, loud noises, pungent smells, and such don't bother them. Magic requires a certain finesse that the dull senses of the orcs usually doesn't allow, so very few, if any, are capable of using it. Most live in the barren Fellmoran desert up north.
Dwarves are a little odd here. They're basically humans, but considerably shorter. Unlike in most fantasy lores, dwarves and halflings are both the same species; it's just that beardlessness is a heritable trait that some dwarven communities gather around. Most dwarves live in or around the dormant volcano out west.
All four major species are ruled by a monarch. Alexander Dragan rules the humans, Erudessa Durvain rules the elves, Innocent Patronus III rules the dwarves, and Throk of Westpier rules the orcs. There are other races in the world, like centaurs, fauns, satyrs, gnomes, gremlins, goblins, and such like, but they are not nearly as populous as the major four.
Technology is a little strange out here. Magic freely intermingles with it, and it's not uncommon to find a swordsman watching a video on his magic tablet while wizards rocket around in experimental steam-driven carriages. Dwarves tend to focus more on the tech side of things while elves focus more on the magic side of things. Orcs have neither the time nor the resources to focus on either, since they're too busy struggling to survive the harsh climates and incessant raiding parties.
So I guess technology is more Renaissance Era than Medieval.
Name: Kiera Akello Image: Gender: Female Race: Elf How you got here: Kiera was born in Aetherion and grew up in the far away land. Background: Kiera was always told by everyone she had amazing healing powers. Her mother and father were good clerics, so this made sense to everyone. She always enjoyed healing things, because she always felt at peace when she did it. Well, she would heal people if they complimented her. She was incredibly vain and would refuse to heal you unless if you said she was beautiful. Either that or whip up a sob story out of nowhere. If she felt bad for you enough, she will end up doing whatever you wanted her to do. Even though she was a good healer, she created a bad name for herself in her hometown because she wouldn't heal anybody who had done something bad to her one time or another, but even though she is unreliable she knows a lot about herbs and can heal broken limbs. When Kiera wanted to get out of the village and explore the world, she took this opportunity and went to King of Dragan and decided to help heal people while experiencing the world for the first time. Powers, Abilities, & Equips: Power: Advanced Healing Abilities: Can use daggers Equips: Healing staff, poison, burn, etc. antidotes, an iron dagger, and a cape to keep herself warm. Desired Class: Cleric Character Flaws: Gullible, know to be absent minded at times, naive. Known to be spiteful at times. She is very vain and selfish. Famous Quotes: "I don't understand why people don't like being clerics. You basically decide whether you companions live or die!"
My CS is done. Can I get an A-proof-all? ^^ @Thinslayer
Ravadon's background seems more like a whole life-story than a background. It starts with his birth, which is fine, but ends with his death, instead of ending at the point where our RP begins. It tells me a lot about Ravadon except for where he is now in his life.
The "How you got here" section needs work. She can't have come from another world if she was born here. Please don't feel compelled to give her any weird origins if you don't want them. She can have nothing to do with other worlds whatsoever if you so choose. That section is there in case you felt like giving your character a more interesting introduction to the world (like being summoned, walking through a closet, falling from the sky, arriving by starship, etc.). If she was born here and was never even remotely involved with other points of origin, that's perfectly fine. But as-is, the section looks really weird.
In general, I'd like to see more work put into the character's background and personality, especially the character flaws. The simple, traditional nature of this RP was designed to give greater freedom to make strong characters. Please take advantage of it.
One place I would start is with the character flaw. This is the single most important part of the CS, because it's what you're developing about the character over the course of the whole story. If you're prepared to make a huge deal over Kiera's gullibility, naiveté, and spitefulness, and to let it cost her within an inch of her life, then run with it, but otherwise, consider other possible flaws.
For a healer, a good flaw to consider would be conceitedness. Thinking only of oneself presents interesting and violent conflicts with the humble generosity of the healing profession, and it would make for an incredible story. You don't have to use this flaw, but that's the kind of flaw I want her to have - a fundamental contradiction in her character that will take a whole story to work through.
Some examples of mine: One healer character suffered debilitating PTSD following years of torment - the healer needed healing, in other words. Another healer was racist (the healer refused to heal some people) and had a long fall from grace as a result.
Kiera could work, but find me a good flaw first. ;)
Ravadon's background seems more like a whole life-story than a background. It starts with his birth, which is fine, but ends with his death, instead of ending at the point where our RP begins. It tells me a lot about Ravadon except for where he is now in his life.
At what point in the story does our RP begin?
I'm guessing near end. Must have gotten a bit carried away with my storytelling... xD
I'll cut out the princess + death and then post it in CS. (Though his seasoned hero-days are something he's not used to in this universe and will start out like everyone else...) "He sought out the cave she'd mentioned. As the cards burned in his hand, he walked in through a crack in the rocks. After a brief moment of flailing his bodyparts in any direction, he plunged face first into sandy floor of the human city Southhaven. "
@Thinslayer Yahoo! It's finally done. It's a bit weird especially about her powers and stuff so tell me if it needs improving?
Name: Isabella Stonebridge
Gender & Race: Female and Human
How you got here: Isabella has lived in Dragan her whole life. She grew up here ever since she was born and knows every crevice of the small town she lives in by heart. She never believes she could be anywhere else and if she is away for a long time she misses the warmth of fireplaces by her feet and her favorite velvet cushion she has on the couch. No place but home, she always says.
Background: Isabella carries royal blood and is distantly related to the Princess of Dragan. She even remembers playing with her when she was little. However, ever since she was a child her parents were always away on a foreign trip and therefore, she was raised by stablehands and petite handmaidens, leading to her slightly boyish personality, mixed with gentle carefulness and a sense of elegance not many can impersonate.
Powers, Abilities, & Equips:
- Earth Sword The Earth Sword was gifted to Isabella by her father. If the sword strikes dirt the ground splits, . The Earth Sword is sworn allegiance to Isabella and so, therefore, it does not respond to any other owner
Desired Class: Knight
Character Flaws: Isabella can seem very cold hearted at times, making most people want to avoid her. Whenever she faces something that she can not get over she gets stubborn and angry with herself. In simpler words she is scared of failure and everything associated with it. She’s always managed to get through almost everything her life, therefore any problem is not a hard problem, right?
Famous Quotes: Be a girl with a mind, a woman with attitude and a lady with class
N’zaeri’s mother was Shazarii Vermul dul Skybor of house Skybor-Tulmult and was, by birth and pedigree, near elven nobility. She was esteemed as a woman of great beauty, even amongst the beautiful elves, and elegant poise and grace. Her entire life was of praise and congratulations. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was highly intelligent and gifted with the ability of clairvoyance to the degree that she held a power in her mind that allowed her to read the intentions of others, shifts in the atmosphere and environment as well as predict outcome with near perfect probability. Her gifts enabled her to take advantage of every person, place, and situation to elevate her family to a higher caliber. She was, in short, a well known gem of Easthaven.
Shazarii’s skill, looks and witt gave her an inflated ego and made her somewhat of a narcissist as she matured and she would marry a man of high standing, also a close cousin, to strengthen her family line. Her life was set. She had money, influence, power, and was sought after by everyone...But one man. The very man that changed her entire life. Rickard Natalist.
Rickard was a human thief and he was quite skilled. Rickard heard of the great wealth of the Skybor-Tulmult and wanted to rob them blind of the supposed “Gem of Earthaven”. When he was in the middle of robbing Shazarii and her husband of all their wealth she confronted Rickard and he scoffed, told her she was full of herself, and told her to run along before she got hurt. They would fight, he would harm her, and it created this chase in which she was hunting him down for the insult he committed against her family, herself and her future!
The chase between the two would lead to retrospection and self reflecting in which the two learned of their love of each other and how to be better living creatures in this world and, accidentally going on adventure after adventure, the two would settle down together. Their romance was a wild one. There was a time where Shazarii saved an entire village and there was another in which Rickard saved one! Shazarii stole from a noble elven house, thus losing her name and respect within the elven community, but gained it back as Rickard showed that house for the corruption and secrecy it housed. The two were an impeccable team.
Shazarii, still married to her husband in Earthaven, would eventually bear Rickard and her child N’zaeri Natalist.
