It was night time in the City of Ash and it was alive with revelry.
Every table in every bar on every street corner found itself packed with the smelly, sweating, and ravenous patrons one would expect for a night like tonight; for tonight was a night unlike any other. Today marked the anniversary of the horrid Blight War many centuries ago after all. The patrons dug into their food with a rabid intensity as onlookers waited anxiously for their meals to arrive, jealously alive in their eyes, while the rest of the crowd drowned themselves, mug after mug, with the various alcoholic drinks available; mostly mead and Something Else, a local favorite. The floors looked as if they were assaulted by the God of Decay with half-eaten chickens and gods-knows-what littering the floor while bile and unknown liquids poured forth like a torrent of awfulness. This was expected. This scene is one that many a soul has traveled to be seen. While in normal times owner would be appalled to see the state of his bar, the bartender looked on with a smile on hand for today was the day everyone celebrated, and nobody was upset. Unless of course, you knew better.
No one alive today experienced it, but the stories are still remembered, albeit seldom spoken in whole, by the bards, and by the elders. They spin a tale of rotting corpses stumbling through the countryside, whole villages being abducted and transformed into monsters, and the near defeat of the living at the hands of plaque. They know the stories of many a great hero, many that died and fewer yet that lived, that helped curb the tide of the assault on the mortal races. They also know that today was never a day of celebration. Today to them is a day of remembrance. Remembering the errors of the all the races that led to the blight, the errors of commanders who led their soldiers to slaughter, and the greed of the many who prayed on the few still living during it all. Today they remember and look on at the parties with a stern gaze and speak a cautionary tale to those who will listen.
It was such an elder who found himself sitting on a famous corner, deep in the heart of the City of Ash, judging the crowds from a distance. As he sat, he was approached by a young man in search of a tall tale. The man towered over the frail build of the elder, though he approached with a smile and asked if a seat next to the old man was taken, to which the old man responded no.
"I hear you know a story or two about the Blight Wars, old man," the towering individual asked as he sat down.
"Old man," the elder asked, "I'll have you know I am no older than your parents may be, are they so old to you?"
"I meant no disrespect, elder," the towering man said with a chuckle, "I am a student at the great magic school at Itos, and I and my fellow classmates have traveled far to this city to hear the tales of the war. I have been told you know a story or two, and I would like to know where we went wrong in the past."
"Not interested in the parties," quizzed the old man.
"No, especially not if I can learn something to tell my friends back home," the towering man responded.
The old man smiled weakly and pulled his posture straight as he did. "Perhaps there is hope for you youngin's after all," he responded with a wink. "This is a story of heroes, who did not know they were such at the time, who came together and saved all life as we know it. They came from all walks of life, some of noble pursuits and some not, that threw their past grievances behind themselves for a common cause. The war was terrible in all accounts, but I will start my story off at where It all started, right here in the city of Ash, three hundred and seventeen years ago; though the city went by a different name back then. The city of Athenvu, under the steadfast watch of her king, was a prosperous trading town that was turned to ruin, " the old man paused as his head tilted to the left, "that was home to," pausing again, this time standing up, "what is that ruckus?," the old man stopped speaking as he rose to his feet.
The towering individual turned his head, the same direction the elder did seconds before, and listened. "Heyyyyy, I am soo not drunk guys – Where's my food – where are we- what did – for – somebody needs to -I think you've – did you grab my – what is the mean- how oft- wherein th-" The more the towering man listened, the less he heard and the less he understood. He turned his attention the old man, who was visibly shaking now, and asked; "what do you hear old man?"
"Don't you hear it? The screaming," he answered back.
The towering man listened again, and this time he heard it; growing louder every second he did, the sounds of people panicking and shattering objects, blood-curdling screams that filled the nights' air only to be silenced, and he listened as it was getting closer and closer and closer. "Stay behind me elder," the towering man shouted as he stood up and his hands erupted into flames, "I will protect you," he promised. Though promise as he did, the towering man's voice was soon added to the melody of screams, as the chorus of horror began to fill the air and erupt throughout the City of Ash. From miles around people could see the fires that raged that night, and even further could people see the plume of smoke the next day. And to this day, nobody knows of what befell the people that day.
Though this did not go unnoticed; almost immediately after hearing the fate of the City did the Council of the Combined races hold an emergency meeting where it was decided that an Inquisitor unit was to be set out to investigate what happened there.
The Inquisition has been summoned.
The cobblestone surface of the Grand Road heaved with exhaustion as the strain of bearing the weight of the full might of the mortal races began to take its toll on its surface. All across its many mile lengths, cracks formed that ran the width of the road, while potholes and ruined sections threatened to swallow the unlucky, and unknowing, soldier whole. The Grand Road found itself in a state of disrepair once thought impossible, with many villagers weeping tears at the sight of its misery. Damaged as it may be, the villagers were not sad. Through the roads surface was now cracked and its formerly leveled surfaces, they watched on it pride. The soldiers happy. The soldiers that trampled it, the carts that crushed it, and the horses that defaced it were not some random unit that marched towards a pointless war; no, these soldiers had a divine purpose and this road was going to see them to their destination, whether or not it made it out intact.
All along the mighty road marched the Inquisition. Soldiers from every army and every race marched side by side for the first time in modern history. All hatred was thrown by the wayside under a common goal, survival. The Elves normally would never catch themselves in a formation with Dwarves in it, while the Dwarves themselves did not scoff of the notion of fighting side by side with the goblins, who needed little convincing to work with their hated big cousins the Orcs, that did not hesitate to follow the humans, and so on. They all knew what was coming. They knew better than to face the darkness alone. Stories passed down through the generations told of a dark and evil time, where monstrous enemies crashed over the mortal races and nearly drowned them under their might.
The soldiers of the Inquisition marched together towards the Darkness, all ten thousand strong, led in front by the Inquisitor Vanguard. The Vanguard was already a full day's march ahead of the main body and was gaining ground. The prized unit of the Council of the Combined races, the forces of the Inquisition proper were clad in the best armor that could be made and boasted some of the most combat ready soldiers in the realm. A mere hour away from the City of Ash, and as the sun above began to set, the Inquisitors brought their forces to a halt as the lead Inquisitor Anora called for a scouting party; asking for volunteers.
You couldn't help but respond first. A hunger deep inside of you burned to face the age-old enemy. While many others volunteered, and they all did, you were selected to find the first trace of the Blight under the lead of Ardur, the battle-tested and powerful battlemage whose legend was rightfully earned. The age of heroes is coming to a close as darkness spreads all around; the age of the Inquisition has arrived.
Our story
Our story starts as we advance on the City of Ash as the first soldiers in on a scouting mission. Our goal is to identify where the enemy has their forces, pull back, and join the final assault on the city after the mortal races and their armies finish their envelopment of the city and the surrounding area. We come from a variety of different races with many different skill sets, however, we are all Inquisitors. Some of you may know each other quite well, while some you may have only heard of in passing, yet you are ready to face the darkness side by side to the end if needed. We fight so the world so the world will never see the horrors of the Blight again. If we do our job, we will see the light prevail and the darkness forever banished to the hell it crawled out of.
Rules
1.) No controlling another players character in any shape or form. Pretty standard but it has to be said. 2.) Combat is usually free form, meaning that you can write your character killing most enemies. Sometimes I will throw out specific or special enemies that you can not kill so simply. We can either write a collab post or possibly roll a dice to determine the success of the fight and/or action. 3.) Stupid decisions can lead to bad results. Don't charge at the enemey alone. 4.) Our Inquisition has a rule about blue cloaks, make sure it is posted in your CS Equipment section so I know you have read this. 5.) No arguing in the OOC, take it to a PM or to discord. 6.)Have fun!
How magic works in this RP
Magic works on a similar system to that of strength in this RP in the sense that the more training one has the more powerful they can become; and on the same note, there are rare prodigies that are naturally good. The magical talent would reveal itself to the mage at a young age in a way that is reminiscent of their magic. A fire mage would create sparks or accidentally burn something while a force mage would levitate something. Early on the power of the mage would be highly unstable so, by law, they are either sent to their nations magic school or to the Inquisition for training.
Magic use drains stamina. Prolonged use of magic in a short period of time will tire out the mage much like a warrior in battle. Furthermore, over-casting is a real problem that mages are taught to avoid. A mage can break through the exhaustion and keep using the magic but it comes with the aforementioned risk of over-casting. Over-casting is a fatal condition where the magic of the user consumes them, often detonating in a grim explosion in relation to their power (a fire mage would be consumed by flames, a force mage would be crushed into the ground, and so on and so forth).
Over two-hundred years ago, their realm was beset by a plague of violence unlike anything seen before it. In the course of just a few years, numerous villages and cities were razed to the ground with nary a soul to survive the horrors they witnessed. In the dark shadows of the night, monsters leaped out at travelers and dragged them off to fates worse than death and returned to their posts waiting for the next unlucky souls to cross their sights. These monsters are very well known today as the evil found within all mortal races. Humans waged war after war with anyone who had anything of value to them, the Elves guarded their sacred forests with a rabid intensity, while the other races did one horrible thing after the next. Countless lives were lost during this time, later known as the Days of Suffering, and much more witnessed the depravity of the mortal condition.
All this pain, suffering, and evil called out to the darkness; and he answered their prayers.
Not much is known about where the beast came from, however, in the City of Athenvu he arrived with a thunderous strike. From the woods that surrounded it, his horde descended on the walls of the city. The defenders fought them on the walls, through the streets, up the grand stairs, all-over the Chieftain's hall and finally in the depths of the cave network; though they were swept aside like a young boy who challenged his combat trainers to single combat. While this instance proved to be the turning point in the Blight War, it was not its first battle nor were the defenders of the city the war first casualties.
The Blight War started off as something else entirely. It started as hushed whispers spoken by the commoners who noticed something the leaders did not. They told stories of empty villages with no signs of a battle or an escape; with clothes drying on their lines while weapons and traveling gear neatly tucked aside. In private they spoke of ghostly figures stalking their caravans in the forests, of sunken black eyes watching from afar. Fearing a monstrous presence, the commoners all over began to report their fears to the various different militaries to investigate. They would not. Instead, the captains and the commanders spoke of their true enemy that is trying to instill fear in the populace; the Orcs, the Elves, and numerous others depending on where you were located of course.
The commanders, generals, and every other person in some position of power assumed this was the public fear of the numerous wars being fought. They assumed that the boogeyman in the night the public thought so real were all stories. If only they were paid attention. As they focused their attention on the war more and more villagers disappeared. And it spread. Human, Orc, Elven, Dwarven, and every other race soon found themselves dealing with this evil. In a sense, the destruction of the city of Althenvu spurred forth the cooperation that eventually saved the realm from the darkness. While reluctant to toss aside past grievances, the many militaries soon found themselves forced to work together to fight the Blight Monsters.
It took two years of constant bloodshed before the combined races forced the dark beast, now called Fuin, into an epic final confrontation where the combined races found themselves victorious and Fuin killed by a human soldier named Rora. With his death, his Blight Monsters succumbed to their darkness and fell to the earth below dead. Without their master, they could not survive. To this day there is much debate as to how Rora killed Fuin, with the most widely held belief that Rora simply got lucky. That is the modern interpretation of what was recorded however and not what the historians and Inquisitors understand. The stories clearly state that a miracle happened in the fields of that battle; with the Gods themselves having pity on our plight. They gifted Rora a mighty spear imbued with the magic of the heavens above that pierced the twisted hide of Fuin; a spear that mysteriously vanished as the battle ended. To this day one of leading goals of the Inquisition is to figure out two things; where the spear is and how to create a weapon of similar strength.
The aftermath of the Blight War saw a new era come to light. While many cities were destroyed, they were rebuilt. Stones sourced from Dwarven mines rebuilt walls and buildings with labor supplied by the Orcs and Humans, among other races. The Elves opened their sacred Healing Forests to those whose minds were twisted by the sights from the war, healing their affliction and sending them back out to repair the world. Food was donated by farmers of every race. In a matter of years, the world was rebuilt.
The leading rulers came together in the centralized human city of Firen and established the Council of the Combined races to continue the improved relations between everyone as well as prevent future Blight Wars. To achieve this goal, the Council brought together the best warriors of every military and formed the Inquisition and tasked them with studying the remnants of the Blight as well as search out and preventing future ones.
The Inquisition is an order that dates back to the end of the Blight war that has searched out and destroy signs of the Blight. They are highly trained in many different areas, from combat to the Blight itself and its signs, and the sight of them in an area usually brings a sense of fear in the local populace. Since their foundation, no major Blight outbreak has occurred since the end of the war. Their history is steeped in tradition, with many generations of Inquisitors filling many parts of their many ranks.
The Inquisition has a thousand capable fighters at its disposal with most being trained from birth while others are donated to the cause by numerous armies. They are led by the Inquisitors themselves when they travel out in the world. The soldiers wear effective plate-mail armor overtop their chain-mail while adopting long spears and various other polearms as their primary weapons. The Inquisition soldiers form the basic level of the Inquisitions fighting force. Everyone who aspires to be an Inquisitor must start first as a soldier. Through training and study, especially studies related to the Blight and the monsters it created, they can eventually maneuver themselves up the ladder and don the title of Inquisitor
Inquisitors themselves are a much rarer force that numbers just in the two-hundred range. They are well versed on the history of the Blight War, the Blight itself, and on the ways to overcome the Blight Monsters in combat. They are inquisitive by nature, seeking answers to the problems caused by the Blight as well as other forms of Demonic, and occasionally occult, forces. When travelling, an Inquisitor can select whatever armor choice suits them best but no matter where they travel they wear their light blue cloaks with the insignia of the Inquisition on the back; the white sun.
After reaching an age where their physical prowess starts to slow, they transition themselves onto the Inquisition council or into the roles of the teachers and trainers that will serve the future generations of warriors; with the former reserved for particularly note-worthy individuals. The Inquisition council has broad authority, granted to them by the Council of the Combined Races, to send out Inquisitors to investigate the Blight; though for their full force to be sent an approval from the Council of Combined Races is needed.
The Blight was a demonic magic-induced affliction that ravaged the countryside during the Blight War. A corrupting magic, the Blight transformed the host living creature from within; corrupting and twisting both their minds and their bodies to serve Fuin. The affliction took only a few days from contact with the afflicted person suffering great pain throughout the transformation. Though from recorded encounters and official studies on the matter, it was discovered that the transformed creatures often had subtle variations that intrigued the Inquisitors.
One of the most important tasks that an Inquisitor has is identifying the Blight and it is not difficult. Within hours of contracting the foul plague, the unlucky individual will often wail in pain as their bodies are twisted apart by the magic. Hair loss, teeth falling out, and a pale complexion are all signs of the early stage of the infection. After another few hours, the individual will often be subjected to a series of painful readjustments of their bone; causing their back to adopt a slight hunchback and their stature shortened. Finally, with the final stage of infection, the eyes of the individual undergoing the least painful but most visually startling to witness. Their eyes quickly lose their white color and are instead replaced with the dark black color of evil itself, with thin wispy vine-like lines protruding out and across their eyes sockets down their cheeks. At this point, some strong souls can still try and resist the call of Furin but resist it they cannot.
While the total time varies with each inflection, the generally accepted amount of time it takes for the infection to run its course is within a day. It is for this reason the Blight went unnoticed for so long initially. Furin guided his initially small forces towards simple targets like villages and caravans, dragging their populace back to their hidden lairs, and subjecting them to the Blight. Generally, it is believed that the creatures operate under a 'hive' mentality and respond to situations accordingly.
Though even in the prolonged battles that took place, the Blight Monsters never truely sought to kill. Only to transform.
Another curious aspect of the Blight is how the transformations varied from one individual to the next. The most commonly encountered Blight Monster is commonly referred to as a 'Skinnui'. They range in height between five feet tall and five foot five inches, with the trademark pale and sickly looking skin and body. Their heads are always void of any trace of hair, with sharp fang looking teeth slightly protruding out from their mouths. Their sunken eye sockets and black colored eyes and surrounding areas give them a sadistic look. Any clothing or armor worn during the transformation is still present on their bodies, though it has been recorded that the longer the monster lives the more tattered and destroyed the clothes appear.
Another recorded variation is dubbed the 'scar guards' for the thick layers of scar tissue that have formed on their forearms and arms. Though the process by which these creatures obtain their scar tissue, the intent behind them remains perfectly clear. Reported as strong as well-made leather armor, the scar tissue can withstand most strikes with one-handed swords.
There are also countless other variations that range from as simple to some being as small as children all the way to the intense and terrifying Scarui (a monster that is reportedly taller than the tallest man), they are far too limited to know everything about them and as such their records are scarce.
I knew I was forgetting someone :/ I went through the pages and tried to figure out who I had not gotten with the tag, obviously I failed so I am sorry!
Appearance Kharne takes after both of his parents very heavily. His mothers size and strength, his fathers natural defenses and coloration. He stands at an intimidating eight feet and six inches. Fairly above average even among other Goliaths. He's built much like a barbarian or a fighter, thick muscles ripple beneath his scales even at a near idle. Speaking of his scales, most of his body is black with a blue sheen in the right light while the plating along his chest and underside of his tail are a dark royal purple. His massive wingspan and strength doesn't make up for the half-formed membrane that decorate it, only allowing him to glide or gain a boost to jumping distance.
Strangely his horns are as white as freshly fallen snow, each one is about a foot long and curve back slightly. Three spikes line the back of his jaw, the longest of which is four inches, the middle being three, and the bottom a mere two inches long. The spikes seem to protect his ears which can swivel to catch sounds and are pointed. Much likes his horns and spikes his claws, both hands and feet, are just as white. But the claws on his feet are clearly larger and designed to tear. Lastly his eyes, which are red with a reptilian pupil, sometimes glow depending on his mood. The more agitated and angry the brighter the glow.
Personality Kharne can best be described as a blunt individual. He despises most races flowery language that beats around the bush and instead goes right to the point. Despite his bluntness he has the patience of a mountain, only the truly stupid things in the world getting him to actually get snappy. Given his bestial nature though he's a natural empath. Able to sense true emotions to a limited degree, his humanoid nature sort of getting in the way with more reason and logic. Like almost any race if he's treated correctly he's a good ally. Treat him wrong and you'll find no friendship, no aid, and potentially a pissed off stream of acid.
History Kharne rarely gets into his history unless a superior has asked about it. He was a part of a Goliath tribe up in the mountains, his father unknown but clearly draconic, his mother a pure-blood Goliath. Once he was mature enough physically he left the tribe behind to survive in the mountains on his own. His draconic nature driving him to hunt and solitude while his Goliath side felt he was a drain on his single parent.
Very few things could contend with him in the mountains that he wandered. Getting that nice Goliath size before finally leaving into the warmer climes beneath the mountains. Down below there was far less solitude than he thought there would be. There were these soft bipedal beings in houses. Dozens of them that ran and screamed merely at the sight of him. He didn't understand their gibberish, only the Giantish and Draconic from his people and own instinct.
During the brief time he had been in the "valley" he encountered an old Inquisitor. Such an odd being, this old man. Extremely few Goliath's lived to old age and even they went out to one-up their previous exploits. But the other odd thing was this old man could speak Draconic. So instead of yelling and screaming as he fled he held a conversation with the huge draconic man. Asking where he came from, what he planned on doing, typical stuff people wanted to know when they encountered a new and rare being.
Kharne found himself without answers to some of these questions. He had been following his instincts so much that he never really thought about his own future aside from his next meal. Finding no answer he was given a choice to follow the elderly man and learn from him or continue on with his instinctual life. It's obvious what Kharne picked, he followed the man and learned things about the world that even his ancestors and tribe didn't know. He didn't know it but his mere presence helped the old man, who'd try to rob a guy with a nearly nine foot behemoth nearby during their travels?
Cut forward a few years and here we have a Kharne that had gained a good amount of knowledge, learned to suppress his instinctual dragon nature, and even push aside, most, of his Goliath competitiveness. He wasn't the scholarly sort but he wanted to learn things that could help him in the long run. Like potentially locating his dragon father if he ever felt like going that far. In his 'off time', meaning when he didn't have his face in a book, he learned the humanoid ways of fighting. With weapons, armor, and shields instead of tooth and claw.
Kharne was a natural warrior, like all Goliaths, and had a ferocity in battle that only half-orcs and dwarves could really match. The whispers of a new Blight possibly cropping up got him curious while he was sparring. So he hit the history books! It was one of the more recent crisis that had occurred. A mere two hundred or so years ago. There seemed to be a continuous threat since the Inquisition was always called out somewhere. Or so he heard, he never personally witnessed it.
Shortly after his perusing of the history the entire Inquisition was called. The City of Ash had been...burned? Sacked? The details were sketchy on what happened. Getting what little gear he needed he set off with the rest. People talked of the blight potentially returning but this didn't sound like the blight at all. But they'd certainly find out eventually.
Equipment
Kriegmesser: A single edged sword with a, roughly, four foot blade. It's capable of being wielded two handed but it isn't necessary.
Steel Arm: Steel plates cover his right arm, his first knuckles to his shoulder. This is in place of a shield, allowing more maneuverability to parry melee attacks.
"Champions" Belt: A particularly large steel clasp that goes around the waist. It's an inch thick and about five inches wide. Attached to the belt is a "skirt" of red fabric with a gold border that reaches his ankles. Offers minor protection and public decency.
Dragon Tooth Bangle: A leather bangle on his bicep that has a ring of dragon teeth. A keepsake from his tribe up in the mountains and offers nothing but memories.
Inquisition Tabard: Cloaks didn't exactly work due to the massive wings and discomfort of having the cloth wedged between the limbs. So he has a custom tabard that is tied behind his neck and tucked into the front of his belt with the Inquisition emblem emblazoned proudly on the broad front.
Magic
Dragon Breath(Acid): Due to his draconic heritage he can fire a spray of acid in a 60ft line from his mouth. This can only be used twice daily
Dragon Resistance(Acid): His dragon heritage gives him resistance to his own breath weapon damage type.
Appearance complete! Many thanks to @iTem for help and the amazing drawing ^_^
Name: Cyterius Yranov
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Race: Human
Appearance:
Standing at 5'8, he is tan-skinned with an average body build. He has green eyes, and short black hair that tends to get messy from the hood he usually wears. When not wearing his usual armor with the blue inquisition cape, he wears a white undershirt and leather pants with a brown leather hooded cloak with a black silhouette of a Falcon etched onto the back
Personality:
Quiet, Calculative, Cynical, and Cold. These would be the words to describe Cyterius by his friends. He maintains a practical and realistic worldview, not putting much weight on goodwill or that people won’t have some underlying agenda. He’s not one to take old tales of heroism and legends at face value, always trying to see characters from the perspective that a person of their time would. He’s the kind of person that would willingly let others die if their deaths served an important purpose or a greater good. The exception to that however would be his close friends in the Luna Falcons; a small group of men and women who he grew up with and faced countless dangers alongside. Cyterius doubts he has it in himself to let them die if there was even a remote chance of saving them. In combat, Cyterius keeps his cool, and remains calm and collected as he analyzes the situation and the danger he is presented with. He thinks and processes information faster than most, trusting logic more than instincts or feelings, which make him more suited to a tactician role than a frontline fighter.
History:
Born to a poor family, Cyterius lost his parents early on as they were locked away by the men of the city’s lord when they tried to steal from a particularly influential merchant at the marketplace. He was left alone on the streets, though his parents had helped him by teaching him how to survive off the scraps of the street, and to steal what he needed. He eventually found a sense of belonging and brotherhood from a group of street children led by a large kid named Samson Karinus. Their small group of 6 shared food and money together, helping each other survive the cruel realities of their urban environment. One day, they were approached by a relatively famous Bounty Hunter who went only by the name “Sicario” who was tracking a few of his targets in their home city. When he encountered the street children, he enlisted their help by paying them to spy on his targets, and cause distractions wherever it was needed to buy him time to either capture or kill his marks, depending on what the bounty asked.
Cyterius and the other children enjoyed working for him, and liked the amount of money they got as a share from Sicario’s earnings. The bounty hunter in turn liked the kids and their moxie and took them under his wing. Though they began doing the same tasks they did once before, they eventually became full-fledged bounty hunters as they grew, inter-dependent with each other’s skills, as efficient in the shadowy forests and in the tight crowds of cities; no target would ever remain out of their sight for long. After their master Sicario chose to go into retirement, Cyterius took on the overall leader role for the group, with Samson acting as his right-hand and leading the others as the others liked and trusted Samson more than Cyterius. They continued their activities as the Luna Falcons, furthering their reputation as a feared group of hunters for those who had the misfortune of being marked as targets for collection by the authorities. When mercenaries hired by a crime group went after Sicario in his retirement home and killed their old master, they sought revenge and went on a bloody campaign of abduction, torture, and killing of the members of the slave-trafficking ring that carried out Sicario’s murder. Those who survived were left battered and broken in the streets of their home cities, with a note telling the local authorities that the Luna Falcons will not ask for any payment for the capture of the criminals.
After their mission of revenge, they continued their usual activities for a time, until one of their members a girl named Nischa Ariteni, convinced them to enlist their group as a unit in the Inquisition’s army. Cyterius was skeptical at first, but eventually relented and they joined the Army, offering their services as a reconnaissance unit thanks to their experience and expertise in observing and tracking down targets, with their reputation as the Luna Falcons being an impressive resume for new enlistees. They underwent training and drills together, as well as exercises and war-games that taught them how to adapt their hunting skills to be most efficient on the battlefield. Cyterius in particular, caught the attention of their superiors with his quick tactical mind, and ability to quickly comprehend situations on the field. He was recommended for Inquisitor training, where they felt his talents would be of most use: directing the movements of both large and small forces in battle.
Equipment:
Salvo-Arm: Wrist-mounted, magazine fed custom crossbow that fires by flicking the wrist downward, with a leather strap that is tied to the palm of the hand. Each magazine holds 5 bolts but can be quickly reloaded. Has a tendency to jam with improper wrist movement, needing to pull the wrist upright quickly after firing to reset the string before the next bolt slides down. Bolts will also not slide into the firing chamber properly if not fired with the top-mounted magazine facing downwards to have gravity pull the bolts down.
Light armor with thin metal plating on the torso, arms, and legs, but leather on joints and thighs. Allows quick and agile movement while providing protection from indirect blows. Blue Inquisitor cape attached to the shoulders and neck-area of the armor.
Flying Snares: Throwable Bolas With two weights on each side. Used for both tying around a victim’s leg, or hitting them in the head with the spinning weights to disorient
Officer’s Talon:a Curved Saber Primarily used by the horse-mounted military officers of their home region
Man-Traps: A variation of a bear trap used by the Luna Falcons. Using a pressure pad in the middle, a vise snaps closed around a victim’s leg. Digging into flesh with small spikes to keep it attached. Cannot be unwound without the Falcon’s unique master-key for their Man-Traps. Often has a chain attached to a tree or other anchor to keep the target in one place
Im aware we are basing it off stamina and have the over-cast feature but was unsure as to how many spells we could start off with or what a good number you believe would be i.e.no more than x
There would be no limit to the number of spells known only a limit on how many spells that can be used in a certain timeframe. The more intense the spell, the greater the toll type of deal.
oh ok cool! I assume just about any race is welcome (upon approval ofcourse) and is magic all purely innate and relatively similar or can there be variations on how its cast i.e. wand, staff, grimoire, crystal ball, tool-less?
I lean more towards humanoid in terms of shape and size but I can make changes to it. I will say that magic is more or less Innate. I don't like enchanted weapons/armor and I also do not like devices that can be used to give an individual magical ability when they did not have any present beforehand. I will accept, however, something that could further enhance one's innate abilities albeit slightly.
ok thats more towards how i was leaning. Was like a grimoire that helps to enhance my stamina or magical abilities to lessen the burden/toll my body takes with each cast.
Basically a tome that has geometric designs that are similar to natural ley lines as well as a base understanding of how the magic works which when combined together allows you to have the same result of magic you could achieve with no tome but with less strain to the body
as for the race it was a very humanoid race, essentially a 4' elf like creature (i can provide a pic to show you )
River is one of the tallest Plains-Elf within his community. He stands at the height of four feet with midnight blue hair that resembles the depths of the ocean and is typically worn up. His eyes are hetero-chromatic, where in one eye is blue and the other a crimson red, coupled with a vibrant almost glowing aetheric blue tattoo that swoops beneath each eye accenting them both; this same coloured tattoo can be seen on his forehead going down the direct center towards the bridge of his nose in an intricate design giving him a very distinct visage. His skin of a light caramel colour and is just as smooth with no scars nor blemishes to note. His body is rotund yet slender as is the shape of many of his peoples bodies and the ears are long and come to a point similar to that of an elves though a bit more elongated. He notably wears a long black cloak with copper embellishments,black leather belts,book strap, a white pin-striped undershirt, black leather arm guards, black pants, and brown and black leather shoes. He carries with him a grimoire at all times to help aid him in his casting as well as spectacles that are admittedly just for show.
Personality:
River has an almost childish personality, though he understands he must show his maturity and discipline in times of peril or of importance. His longevity as an elf has not hardened his heart like those of his other kind who tower above him, no he views the other races short lives as something he must cherish and understands that although they are but a passage of time with him that he to them may be their life long friend. He attempts to make bonds where he can and will do what he can to help those who need it. His mission against this blight is just as focused as anyone's although it may not seem like it at times.
History:
Magic is as natural as breathing to those of the Plains; although they do not wield it any easier than some of the other races they are almost all magically inclined in one way or another, using ley lines gifted to the world by nature alongside their study of the arcane they help to make life a little easier for themselves for such things as gardening, cooking, and even healing. Rivers parents were no exception where in his father was born with analytical magic that allowed him to study creatures for weaknesses, strengths, and much more and his mother had the ability to manipulate and create water. When it was time for his birth they placed down ley lines that would pass on their gifts to him which resulted in Rivers appearance and innate sense for both analytical magic as well as hydromancy. He began his training at an early age with the sages of his people teaching him how best to manifest his powers as well as their knowledge on the worlds natural magic conductors ( the ley lines ) and how to inscribe them into the geometric shapes they make up for the use of grimoire's, runic jewelry and so forth. As the years progressed he was able to control his powers more and more and eventually began to meld them together to create what they called “summoning” although this practice took more than the usual amount of energy to cast as it was combining two separate forms of magic to create one end result. It wasn't till later when the call for the inquisition beckoned him to help the others of the world and ensure that he can make the realm safe for all.
It was a day like any other, the young mages practiced to hone their skills while the elders attempted to learn more of the world and how best it can serve them. Families were preparing meals for their kids so that they wouldn't wait a second to have to eat after a long days work at the school, after all casting magic was a draining experience. The meals would have to wait however for while River was atop a balancing pole his eyes caught a glimmer in the distance. He immediately began to scan the area using his magic. His archiac tattoo began to glow as his pupils dialated, whilst each eye darted back and forth through the areas as they scanned for any potential threats. Finally he had caught what he'd believed to be the worst thing that could've appeared, it was a blighted monster like from the tales of his parents. He immediately yelled out to his village warning them of the danger as he hopped off the pole, creating jets of water at his feet before the land to cushion his fall. Tall green vines began to rip from underneath the ground around the village as it formed sturdy interwoven walls. A monstrous grunt could be heard as a loud thud responded against the wall. A Scar Guard was attempting to brute force it's way into the village followed by a few Skinnui. The students were asked to retreat to their homes but River could not stand idly by while other fought. He rushed forward snagging a grimoire from the school and decided to make best use of it. Waiting for the opening that would allow the elders to step out and fight he saw his chance and bolted through immediatly creating a sphere of ice around him to cut off any attempt at contact. After a long and arduous fight they managed to combat the blights as the Inquisition arrived. They explained they had been tracking this group in attempts to stop them from spreading to far out and thanked the village for their service against the monsters. River stepped forward and declared he could no long stand by while the world still has nightmares such as this, he would petition to join the Inquisition and leave his village in hopes to help better the world. With tears in their eyes the villagers held out a ceremony for Rivers departure and gifted him the robes and grimoire he uses to this day.
Equipment:
-World's Soul: A grimoire made of leather hide from the sturdiest creature of the plains and its pages crafted from a piece of their oldest living tree. The pages have been inscribed with geometric designs using gold flecked ink and the tomes cover embellished with leather straps, golden buckles, and a naturalistic design.
-Battlemages Robes: Black robes as described and shown above.
-Blue Cloak: Gifted by the inquisition, River keeps it on himself yet only wears it when prompted or during formal inquisition meetings and missions
Magic:
Hydromancy:
River's abilities to create water also allows for his manipulation of it. He can use it as a torrent to rip through enemy lines allowing for them to be pushed away from one another breaking ranks, or simply using the rush to knock his enemies prone. He may also create a barrier to help slow down projectiles or even a gaseous area to reduce visibility. In times of need he may even craft a whip for which to fight with though he typically attempts to have battlefield control.
Analytical:
River wields this magic to spy enemy weaknesses, strengths, and much more. Casters equipped with this have higher battlefield control as they can scan the areas for quick escapes or terrain hazards that can be used to their advantage, after all a well placed blade may be the deciding factor in a match, coupled with his hydromancy Rivers battlefield control takes new heights.
Summoning:
Of all his abilities this one is not only unique but also exhausting to an extent. If studied enough River begins to see all the similarities in creatures, how they're built, how they flow, move, etc. He can combine this extensive knowledge along with his ability to shape and create water to do something of a similar nature and shape a more dense and solid form resembling the creature in question. Though he cannot actually summon a steed he can replicate it using his magic, however the larger the creature is the more it takes out of him. While a small cat may be simple to summon and aid in a fight a lion would take much more out of him.
