Deadwood, the greatest tragedy the world has ever seen... no one remembers what the land used to be called. It was once a lush paradise of endless potential, and endless possibilities... all gone in an instant. No one knows what transpired, it happened so long ago that the people who experienced it are long dead and all that remains are just rumors and theories.
This event was known as the Cataclysm, and it wiped the slate clean. Some say the arrogance of man caused the world to end. Others say the Gods got bored of all the prospering and wiped the slate clean... I just say we just got what was coming to us. Turning a paradise into an endless desert far as the eye can see... there is only death, pain, and struggling, as everyone tries to pick up the pieces centuries later. All the while idiots wage war for what's left. Monsters roam the land, killing everyone they encounter. Bandits and other thieves pluck what they can from who they can. Tyrants hold supreme power and horde what they can. Deadwood is a lawless hostile land where everyone's fighting day by day to survive, but there is hope. As hard as it is... It can get better, we can fight for order.
We can help this land will find its true name.
Welcome to Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery. A roleplay that I've had in mind for years now, one that constantly changed and shifted in my head. The basic idea of Deadwood was that it was a post-post-apocalyptic high fantasy RP about a land that was once beautiful now ruined by a mysterious disaster. My intention is for this roleplay to have a heavy emphasis on tone and atmosphere, I guess the best way to describe this RP would be Melancholic Dark Fantasy. What I mean by that is that the RP will have a very somber, gritty, and dark tone, empathizing how harsh, brutal, and desperate the land of Deadwood really is. I want the action to be few and in between but very brutal and impactful when it does appear (so no scenes of the main characters cleaving their way through hordes of mooks) and nobody will have plot armor. So in any encounter, there's a chance for death.
The general plot is that several explorers, mercenaries, and other adventurers come together at the behest of the Queen of Exusia. Exusia is one of the few thriving communities in Deadwood that is a floating city that hovers above the horrors of Deadwood. Nobody can get up there unless Exusia allows them access to the Kingdom. They've gotten so powerful by hoarding resources and by utilizing magic, however, many would dream of accessing this utopia. The Queen has put out a mission that only the most desperate adventurers would take: figure out what exactly happened in the Cataclysm and they can have a horde of wealth or live comfortably in Exusia for the rest of their lives. Many called it foolish, but one group has decided to take the Queen up for her offer... and they will be lead on a journey that will change the face of Deadwood.
RULES & NOTES
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1. First and foremost I reserve the right to reject anyone from the RP and boot them out at any time, for any reason. I'm going to say this now: you have one chance and I will not accept any form of toxicity or negativity in the RP or discord server. Please be respectful of all players since we're gonna have a mixed bag of personalities here and I would rather not have any conflict.
2. What I am looking for in terms of characters are very strongly written and diverse in terms of personality and skills. I don't want any one-dimensional or generic characters but characters that stick out to me. Deadwood's a harsh place and I really want the characters to feel human.
3. Please no "wip" sheets on the OOC. Post a complete sheet or don't post anything at all. If you need something looked over, feel free to private message me. Speaking of which, the character tab is for accepted characters only.
4. I would prefer if everyone has one character but the hard cap is two.
5. I left the lore a bit vague, leaving out the history, so players can have the freedom to create events and whatnot in the setting. You are encouraged to do so... within reason.
6. As far as races go, I will not provide a solid list of different races. You are free to use archetypal fantasy races, as well as coming up with your own... just uh make sure they fit the tone of Deadwood.
7. Keep in mind that your character can totally die. If they make the wrong move it can result in their death and I will not jeopardize the story to save them.
8. This RP will strictly be "first come, first serve." Meaning I will not reserve any character roles/etc, and they will go to whoever finishes their character sheet first. If there's a conflict over it, I will decide the outcome.
9. I want the power level to be low... The combat's going to be few and in between but I want it to be impactful above all else. Characters can take on a single opponent fairly well but should have trouble fighting more than one.
10. Now, before you get excited, this RP is going to be somewhat realistic in the presentation. If you want to make a knight wielding a sword five times as large as his body, or an assassin capable of gliding into a room and assassinating everyone with thrown knives, you aren't going to get far.
11. All I ask for is one post a week. If it's been a week since your last post, your character will be placed into the inactive section until they are written off (mostly by death). Please be aware that once your character is inactive they can be killed off.
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The land of Hope, Death, and Misery has many different names. Tyros, The Harshlands, the Dead Expanse, but one name is used by a majority of the land: Deadwood. The land gets its name from the seemingly endless forests full of dead and rotting trees. It is a massive and shattered island in the middle of a harsh sea that's four-hundred thousand square miles, it takes months to travel from one end to the other. Such a feat is incredibly difficult given the layout and the constant dangers that plague the land. Deadwood is a ruined place, one thousand years ago the Cataclysm struck the land and left only the whispers of the life's that gone. The Cataclysm occurred so long ago that there are only faint rumors and theories left of what exactly happened. Not a clue remains of what exactly happened, and all that remains are the ruins of cities that litter the land. Inside these cities remain vital resources and even the hints of what Deadwood once was.
Thousands of years later, the various races of Deadwood desperately attempt to pick up the pieces, but it is difficult. The land of Deadwood is littered with monsters and resources are sparse - not to mention that Deadwood is a barren land that's hard to sustain life on. It's easier to take from who have it than to make your own, and thus there are many warlords and bandit groups in the land of Deadwood. There have been attempts at uniting Deadwood, but however, they're only through war and conflict it seems as all Deadwood seems to know is violence, slavery, pain, struggling, and anarchy. There are major settlements throughout Deadwood (Dakora, New Kaimeria, and Exusia are the most prosperous it seems), however, there are many independent nations and villages in between them. There are many unmarked communities on the map, but they are few and far between and they are often destroyed or abandoned before they get on the map.
Information in Deadwood is often inconsistent and unreliable, and it's tough for news and other knowledge to get spread across the land. The majority of information in Deadwood is inconsistent and changes from place to place, person to person. Even the map above isn't actually an accurate representation of Deadwood but it's, at the very least, the closet. The land of Deadwood is ironically dying out, as the last vestiges of civilization are either wiped out or they die out with the lack of resources at their disposal. At this rate, in another few centuries, all civilization will be gone and Deadwood will be nothing but monsters and the faintest traces of civilization. That is if another war or apocalyptic event does not occur.
The last major conflict was the Kaimerian Uprising. The Kaimerians inhabited the caves beneath Deadwood, amassing power until they burst out from the ground and waged war against all of Deadwood. They countered the southernmost part of Deadwood, running the races that inhabited that area out and establishing New Kaimeria. The nations and settlements of Deadwood banded together to halt the Kaimerian advance, however, the Kaimerians are content with what they have. They occasionally venture out to harass any nearby settlements but all of Deadwood lives in fear of another Kaimerian uprising. Only the most foolish go near New Kaimeria out of fear of death or triggering another war.
There have been attempts to venture out of Deadwood, however every attempt to venture past the sea has ended in failure. The waters around Deadwood are harsh, chaotic and sailors, report being attacked by a strange, serpent-like beast. It's unknown if anyone who has ever ventured past the sea has made it or was destroyed, however, Deadwood's beaches are littered with shipwrecks.
LOCATIONS
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EXUSIA
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Many thought that Tabitha, the Queen of the city, was foolish for taking over ruins set in the heart of the Bone Sea. Many others thought she was utterly mad for inviting every magic user in Deadwood to her kingdom. What cemented Tabitha as truly insane was taking Exusia and using magic to raise it into the sky far out of the reach of anyone in Deadwood. Using magic to turn the place into a self-sustaining utopia, she has eliminated the issue of Deadwood being unsustainable. She only makes brief contact with the land below for trade, other than that her people live in peace. With what they have, they have created Exusia, a land where everyone pitches in to keep the machine going. Many would kill to get up into Exusia.
And now they are.
DESOLATION
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The Desolation stands at the very northern tip of Deadwood, a land so cursed and hostile that not even the bravest or stupid adventurer would enter the land. When you step into Desolation; the ground is charred to ash, the sky is masked by a thick layer of dust. Many can tell something terrible happened here and the few brave and skilled enough to enter and make it out alive tell about the ruined cities and the charred skeletons that litter the land. Desolation is easily being Deadwood's most dangerous and hostile region and many who venture into the land are never seen again. There are rumors of great wealth within the ruins, yet with all the monsters, hostile weather, and Grief demons, many think it's far more trouble than its worth... especially with the legendary Beast of Sorrow that lurks the land.
SORROWFIELDS
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Easily the second most dangerous and hostile region of Deadwood. Due to its proximity to the northernmost parts of Deadwood, its not as hot as the rest of the place. However, the Sorrowfields is lurking with many, many, different monsters. So many that most try not to avoid them altogether. The terrain in the Sorrowfields is not especially diverse with large plains for miles. The Sorrowfields have many ruins of cities destroyed and civilizations that never got their start. Some worth plundering... some are more trouble than they're worth.
THE BONE SEA
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Spanning from the southwest to the central mountain chains dividing New Kaimeria from the rest of the continent, the Bone Sea is a strange location in the land of Deadwood. The harshest region of the land, The sun harshly bears down on all who dare enter - the terrain consisting of large swathes of desert and arid, rocky terrain. The oddity of the Bone Sea is that the name is literal, for as far as the eye can see the bone Sea is littered with nothing but the bones of various sentient and non-sentient creatures, from the horned skulls of grazing beasts to colossal leviathans that dwarf cities in their size, foreshadowing that something truly horrific once took place here. Equally foreboding are the skeletal ruins of failed cities that have long since been reclaimed by the sands, with Alphos being the only example of a city that has sustained a population over the centuries.
Though not entirely devoid of life, only the hardiest of creatures survive in the Bone Sea - monsters and hardy beasts that serve only to contribute to the mass of rotting carcasses that eventually join the countless other bones littering the desert. As harsh and unstainable it is, even the Kaimerians steer clear, with all weary of the Beast of Suffering that lurks throughout the Sea, emerging at what seem to be random intervals
Despite this, Alphos and Exusia rest in the Bone Sea, alongside the fiercely independent nomads often referred to collectively as the Bone Clans, each adhering to their own customs, rituals, and rivalries, with blood feuds that can be measured along decades, if not centuries. Though the Bone Clans are predominantly human, other races have been adopted into their numbers from intermarriage and infants captured in raids. Among these clans are customs deemed peculiar even by the standards of Deadwood, including ritual cannibalism of the dead as a means of the funerary rite for friend and foe alike - for no resource should be wasted.
So-called Outlanders and Wetfeet from the north are often derided as weak and decadent, with some clans treating such foreigners with passive irreverence while others act with open hostility - more so as one travels towards the Sea's interior. Only in Alphos are foreigners tolerated without grievance.
Though largely decentralized, the clans are known to acknowledge if not outright defer to the judgment of the Lord of Bones, a title bestowed upon rulers able to unify the clans against a common cause.
The mantle of the Lord of Bones has passed through the hands of various concurrent clans over the centuries, one historic trend being that a life sheltered behind its walls left each successive generation of rulers weaker than the last, until finally one of the other clans seek the opportunity to seize power and overthrow the existing rulers. Now, the mantle is bestowed not by lineage but by an assembly of the nomads - and only to the strongest of contenders - yet none have emerged since the last Lord of Bones was killed by Kaimerian raiders a decade ago.
ALPHOS
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Nestled in the desert passes between the mountains, Alphos is one of the last major settlements before travelling further southwards into the barren interior of the Bone Sea. It consists of a single, towering fortress known as the Citadel of Bones, surrounded by an oasis which itself has been built over and walled off from the harsh terrain beyond.
It is not known whom or what built Alphos, only that it stood for many centuries abandoned, though ignored by the Beast of Suffering until it was finally claimed by the Bone Clans, all of whom eventually came to agree that the city would stand as neutral ground on which the nomads would temper, if not entirely set aside their blood feuds - through fistfights are known to frequently result in broken teeth and gouged eyes. Even Outlanders are tolerated within the city walls, though few are allowed to enter the Citadel.
The Citadel of Bones rests at the heart of Alphos, a foreboding structure that casts a large shadow. Though time has been unkind to the fortress, with deep cracks and other signs of disrepair forming in its ancient walls, the Citadel is nonetheless revered by the Bone Clans and recognized as a seat of power for the Lord of Bones, a nominated leader recognized in times of war or crisis. In the absence of a Lord, various clansmen will periodically assemble to represent their respective clans' interests in the throne room.
Regardless of history, all clans are welcome within the Citadel and it is seen as a grievous breach of customs to kill or expel clansmen without good cause and even the most insignificant of clans will be defended to the death by others if their rights are not respected by another party.
SHATTERED ISLES
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The Shattered Isles is a dense chain of islands, forming the archipelago dividing Dakora from the mainland. Treacherous to navigate by land and sea, the Isles play host to pirates, slavers, and free companies willing to sell their services to the highest bidder. Though once held under Dakora's control, today the Isles have further regressed into the chaotic lawlessness that welcomes such an ill reputation. Though merchants and fishermen alike continue to ply their trade along the rivers and coastlines which surround the archipelago, all have learned to fear the approach of raiding longships, for few ever return once clasped in chains.
DAKORA
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Separated from the mainland by the Shattered Isles to the northeast, Dakora rose from the ruins of a trading post fed by access to rivers and wayfaring routes. A mere century ago, the Dakoran city-state had carved out an Empire that stretched across the isle and over the surrounding archipelago, halted only by the Kaimerians to the south. Today, it remains an Empire in name only - one domineered not by its Emperor but by a series of powerful vassals who have rendered the Dakoran Throne a puppet to their ambitions. Decadent and rife with corruption, Dakora has grown insular without a strong hand to steer its course and few would dare antagonize the Lords and their stranglehold over the key to power.
DARINGTON
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One of the most infamous locations in Deadwood is naturally a hive of crime and villainy near New Kaimeria. Darington was originally a kingdom set up in one of the ruins that rebuilt the place and prospered. A tyrant ruled the kingdom with an iron fist - owning slaves, starting wars, and more - until he was unceremoniously killed and the Kingdom fell into disarray... becoming a lawless land as the city lost all sense of order. Now adays, Darington is the slaver capital of Deadwood as hundreds are taken from their homes and sold like cattle. Or forced to fight for the amusement of the onlookers. Darington attracts all sorts of criminals, bandits, and other slavers seeking good wares obtained through illegitimate means.
NEW KAIMERIA
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The fruits of the labor of the Kaimerian Kratocracy, originally several independent cities that stood in southern Deadwood. Ten years ago, Kaimerians gathered power underground, when the moment came the Kaimerians broke free of their underground prison and attacked. The attack was sudden and before anyone could react the Kaimerians had cut a swathe through Deadwood. Many were killed and many were sent wandering into the land of Deadwood without a home (often a death sentence). When the Kaimerians were stopped they maintained their nation, which they named New Kaimeria - few bother them out of fear of another war. The Kaimerians prosper because they have evolved to thrive in rough, hostile environments like Deadwood. Little is known of the nation, as anyone who enters is attacked and killed by the Kaimerians - and Kaimerians aren't the most talkative sort.
HOPE
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An ironic name for one so close to the cursed ruins of the Desolation, Hope was founded by a cabal of escaped slaves seeking refuge to the north, far from the slavers and pirates that perused the Shattered Isles, or the Kaimerians scouring the south. Life in Hope is one of toil and struggle, but freedom - the frigid climate and dangers from the neighbouring Sorrowfields and Desolation deter all but the most foolhardy of slavers from approaching, at the cost of being equally hazardous for the town itself. Its people are a tough, hard-working lot who take a dim view of the degeneracy that plagues Deadwood and would sooner be left to build a life for themselves without interference.
ETHOS
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Situated on the westernmost peninsula, Ethos is a sprawling port-city guarded by an ocean to the west and a bay to its east, with would-be attackers forced to approach from its well-guarded northern flank, where lookouts and fortifications have been established from coast-to-coast. Most of its people live, work and die in a dense woodwork of slums, with a wealthier merchant class presiding over the city's day-to-day affairs and Patricians elected from this class, informally dubbed the Sea Kings, given the final authority over such decisions - ambivalent to the wants or needs of the people. Though slavery is not actively promoted or even permitted by Ethosi law, this has not prevented the city's most rich and powerful from clandestinely returning with indentured servants at their private quarters. Despite this, trade with the free town of Hope farther north along the coastline does take place and travelers between the two are not entirely uncommon.
Ethos is known for its rivalry with the neighboring mountain stronghold of Orthos, with which it has competed as an economic power for years. Mercenaries from all corners of Deadwood reside here, waiting for the latest contract from the Sea Kings to march on Orthosi interests and vice versa, in a series of stablemates and proxy wars which never seem to end as men spend lives even less frugally than their coin.
ORTHOS
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A fortress resting at the foot of the mountain chain dividing central Deadwood from the Sorrowfields, Orthos is the hardier twin to the coastal hub of Ethos, with heavy outer walls. Much of Orthos rests within the bowels of the mountain, where countless hands desperately carved their homes and livelihoods out of the stone and discovered mineral wealth. Unlike Ethos, slavery is permitted and openly practiced - fed by trade from the east - and both frre laborers and slaves alike toil away in the mines, day and night, extracting material wealth from the mountains to swell the purses of the so-called Stone Lords, the ruling political class elected by so-called freemen of the city with sufficient property of their own to cast a vote for eligible candidates.
Within the city itself, property is highly valued with an entire cavity of subterranean habitation deemed as valuable as an estate above the surface. The greater elevation one's residence is, the higher their social station - with the lowest being at greater depths where one may not see sunlight for days, if not weeks. The conditions are far from pleasant, with the hazards of mining work a constant danger in the form of choking dust and tunnel collapses.
Orthos remains locked in a fierce rivalry with its neighboring port-city of Ethos due to the two's conflicting sphere of influence and, much like its rival, it is known to welcome mercenaries from across the land to fight in trade wars when needed. Whether spent in the mines or on the field of battle, Orthos views lives as cheap.
KARLEZEK ENCLAVES
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A secluded realm etched into the caverns and dungeons within the mountains west of the Shattered Isles, the Karlezek Enclaves are all that remains of the once-proud empire of Gran Karlezen. There used to be a hundred strongholds of the Karlezek, but in the wake of the cataclysm, only a dozen remained, with six of these fortress cities guarding the entrance of the river that cuts into the middle of the mountain range. However, not even these remaining holds were completely safe from the cataclysm; the deepest levels of some have been abandoned due to what is believed to be an infestation of monstrous creatures, while others had their populations severely depleted by a plague. In the dead holds and halls of their fallen cities, operational magishells stalk the shadows, aggressively guarding the treasures of their slaughtered masters. Only the bravest or most foolish of adventurers dare trespass in these darkened halls, as the sentinels are silent, merciless, and tireless. Though a mere shadow of their former selves, the Karlezek Enclaves are nonetheless a formidable force, especially when united by a common purpose. Theirs is one of the more stable realms in the land of Deadwood, protected by their hardy warriors and the treacherous environment of the mountains. A Karlezek hold is a welcome respite for the tired trader and traveler, but a deathtrap for anyone seeking to harm its inhabitants.
MAGIC
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Magic is incredibly rare in the land of Deadwood and for good reason. In the centuries after the Cataclysm, magic was blamed for the event and the current state of things (primarily blamed for the Grief Demon's appearance in the physical world). Magic is a learned art, not an inherent one - one that has to be taught. Reading through tomes and practicing spells is how many use magic, but the best way is to have a magic-user teach another. However, both are difficult as magic practitioners are despised and persecuted by the masses of Deadwood. Most magical tomes and literature has been destroyed and only a few remain completely legible... and most magic users are dragged out onto the streets and brutally murdered by lynch mobs weary of arts they don't understand.
The tomes contain instructions on how to utilize spells, and they take countless hours of practice in order to utilize them. Opposed to traditional forms of magic, magic in the land of Deadwood is utilized by ritual. Instructions for many of these rituals are laid out in the tomes but they require resources and preparations. Such as chanting a phrase, drawing sigils into the environment, arranging stones in a certain way, and even sacrifice. Through this, fantastic and unnatural abilities can be unlocked. Teleportation, healing, elemental magic, and more.
There exist powerful and dangerous spells out there in Deadwood... though they're well hidden.
THE CALAMITIES
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GRIEF DEMONS
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It is unknown exactly what the Grief-Demons are, or what their true goal is, but they seem to be going out of their way to spreading as much sadness, anger, and hatred across the land. They're powerful demons that appear seemingly in random, and wherever they appear, pain follows.
Grief-Demons are incredibly powerful, having access to an unfamiliar yet dangerous form of magic, without any apparent weaknesses or drawbacks along with boasting incredible degrees of strength, regeneration, and durability that establish them as more than a match for whatever the world of Deadwood has to offer. Their regenerative factor allows them to quickly recover from most wounds, though there is a limit to how much they can recover from before they simply cannot regenerate anymore - after that threshold has been crossed, they can be incapacitated, even killed - though there are not many left alive to boast of it.
However, Grief Demons are capable of taking the form of anything - or anyone - that they desire, down to the finest facial features. If one has the displeasure of encountering a Grief-Demon, you'll see its horrendous form. The Grief-Demons have zero consistent forms between each other. Some are humanoid with wings, others are tentacles, and others... incomprehensible. Many have disjointed limbs or bodies that are contorted in such horrific ways that it should be impossible for them to function.
It is unknown what the Grief Demons are after, but when they appear, they aim to cause as much suffering as possible. Making the land of Deadwood worse for everyone. They go after those trying to improve Deadwood and ruin all their endeavors especially.
BEAST OF IGNORANCE
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Perhaps the most feared and the one beast that the land of Deadwood knows next to nothing about. Sailors who attempt to venture out too far into the ocean tell the tale of a massive, serpentine beast so enormous that its tail seems to span the horizon and beyond to wrap around the whole world, though survivors of encounters with it have given different accounts of its general appearance and behavior. Some claim it bears a city on its back, others say that it's the most horrific sea-serpent they've seen, but all consistently report the creature as responsible for causing their shipwrecks, though these survivors have often noted that the Beast never seemed to directly attack their boats, only block their path with its bulk. However, there have been many thousands who ventured out never to return, and, for this reason, few dare enter the waters while even fewer ever dare venture beyond sight of the shores.
BEAST OF SUFFERING
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Known as the scourge of the Bone Sea, it is a colossal creature that dwarves cities. A massive, lumbering and hairy creature with stone formations painfully protruding from its body. It lumbers around the Bone Sea with enormous chains lashed to its back, painfully dragging a massive stone structure almost as large as its own body and leaving behind deep gouges in the sands wherever it treads. The Beast of Suffering wanders the Bone Sea, attacking - or perhaps more accurately - trampling all beings that it comes in contact with, surprisingly nimbler and quicker than its great bulk would suggest. The Bone Clans are known to both fear and revere it, with some almost worshipping it as a god in its own right.
BEAST OF SORROW
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Wandering the Desolation to aggressively defend the ruins from incursion is the Beast of Sorrow. A towering and decrepit monstrosity reminiscent of a castle given humanoid form, with disproportionate limbs and a skeletal appearance, forever clutching a sword that would dwarve most spires. Though its stonework form appears close to ruin, visibly cracked and almost falling apart, to suggest it is weak would be a grave error - it's still the most powerful entity in the continent and none have proven capable of contending with it. It is impervious to all but the strongest attacks, it is strong, and it is fast and will defend the ruins in Desolation to its last breath.
Deadwood is home - or the closest one can call it - to a number of sapient, intelligent races. Humans, of course, being the most populous - though others survive, even thrive in this final corner of the world, though little is known of how the various disparate races came to bed. It is thought that some may have emerged from the land while others perhaps originate from corners of the world which no longer exist - making them the last survivors of the Cataclysm.
[table][color=red][h1][b]RACE NAME HERE[/b][/h1][/color][row][/row][row][cell] [center][img]IMAGE HERE[/img] [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] [b][color=red]LIFESPAN:[/color][/b] (Nothing ridiculous) | [b][color=red]HEIGHT:[/color][/b] (In feet/inches) | [b][color=red]WEIGHT:[/color][/b] (In LB) | [b][color=red]FREQUENCY:[/color][/b] (Just say how common they are like Common/Uncommon/Rare/etc) | [b][color=red]MAIN SETTLEMENT:[/color][/b] (Which location can they be found) | [/center] [/cell][cell] [b][color=red]DESCRIPTION[/color][/b] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [INDENT]Just add a description of the race, their general appearance and what are their strengths/weaknesses. [/INDENT][/cell][/row][/table]
LIST OF RACES
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Humanus
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LIFESPAN: 35yrs | HEIGHT: 5'5-5'10ft | WEIGHT: 130-180lb | FREQUENCY: Extremely Common | MAIN SETTLEMENT: N/A | _______________________________________________
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One of the most common kinds of people in Deadwood, you can find humans just about anywhere. They are incredibly diverse, as they come in many shapes and sizes, and being able to survive in practically any environment. A jack of all trades, as humans have many strengths, but no area that they excel in. However, humans have one strength that no other race have; Phenotypic Plasticity. Humans, for one reason, have the most mutable DNA out of all the races of Deadwood. Introduce humans to a different environment, or to a certain kind of magic, then maybe a new race can spawn. In addition, Humans are capable of cross-breeding with any other race.
The strongest race in all of Deadwood, the Goliaths are a race of Humanus that are gigantic in size. They are eight to twelve feet tall (though, there are distant legends and myths about a Goliath that was twenty feet tall). They have very strong limbs, very large hands and feet, and very thick skin.
They are a race of people that inhabited the coldest mountains in Deadwood, known as the Gronoth mountains near Othos in the Sorrowfield. Adapted to the cold, they were champions in their territory... until they were ran out by bandits and the monsters that lurk there. Forced into the harsh desert, the Goliaths are slowly dying out as they find land for them. The Goliaths are a powerful warrior race that just used their superior strength. As few races are equipped to deal with a giant sword or ax being swung at them. Goliaths are known for their weaponry, which is stated to be the best in the land.
Goliaths are known for their warrior customs. They give great honor to the bravest and most moral of the Goliath warriors. For every great kill a Goliath warrior receives, they are marked with a tattoo. The more beasts they slay, the more they receive these tattoos until they cover their body. Thus, the best Goliath warriors are covered from head to toe with tattoos. The Goliaths with more tattoos tend to wear less clothing casually to proudly display their tattoos to the world.
At their peak, the Goliaths could have given even the strongest Deadwood army a hassle, but now... the Goliath people are dying out. The Goliaths are best suited for cold environments, and they never had the highest birth rate, to begin with. The Goliath people are scattered around the lands, with the few who remember their customs desperately trying to uphold them. It seems like a futile effort given how little giants are left, and how ill-equipped they are to deal with the threats Deadwood has to offer. Most Giants crossbreed with Humanus and many humans have Goliath DNA.
A majority of the Goliath people are in Hope, but many are amassing in Exusia due to its colder air.
KAIMERIANS
_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: 100yrs | HEIGHT: 6'10ft | WEIGHT: 350 | FREQUENCY: Uncommon | MAIN SETTLEMENT: New Kaimeria |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
The strongest power in all of Deadwood have to be the Kaimerian Kratocracy. They're a powerful military race of monstrous humanoids that are larger, and more monstrous than even some of the monsters. The Kaimerians are massive in size, standing at six-ten minimum, and having large body mass. They appear like prey animals with their eyes forward, and scaly. The Kaimerians are seen as savage, due to the way their fight, and how they follow no rule of war but their own - however they are far from it. They have an highly orderly military, and all warriors must follow the most important rule of the Kaimerian code of honor: never fight what cannot fight back. Any Kaimerian who breaks this rule is declared dishonorable and expelled Kaimerian society (Or killed).
The Kaimerians are stated to be the perfect race to inhabit Deadwood, they are adapted to harsh, brutal environments, and can breed very quickly. So quickly, they could easily overtake Deadwood - They would if it wasn't for the fact that they breed as quickly as they die. They aren't overtaking Deadwood anytime soon, but they are still incredibly numerous. As for the Kaimerian's physical abilities, they are very strong, and durable, being able to give even the best fighter trouble. In addition, they have a healing factor that allows them to bounce back from wounds very quickly (Not instantly, but they need time to recover). Their brute strength makes them one of the strongest races in Deadwood.
Kaimerian society is dominated by two things; their religion, and their females. Due to how Kaimerian birthrates work, females are born very rarely, instead, males are born a lot more often. Thus, female Kaimerians are revered as sacred and go nowhere near the battlefield (in fact, few know that there's even a female gender). The females aren't as violent as the males and are instead treated as leaders. The females lead the Kaimerians as a whole and being the ones who designate chieftains.
The Kaimerians are separated into several different tribes that are still reigned in by the female Kaimerians. The tribes do whatever they please, destroying all that comes in their path if they please. However, every now and then, there is a mating season in which Kaimerians cease activities, and gather together. This is where the strongest Kaimerians are selected to mate with the females to breed the next generation of Kaimerians. Mating season is when most Kaimerians die.
AUGURY
_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: 60-65 Years| HEIGHT: 4’6”-5’0” | WEIGHT: 90-100 lbs | FREQUENCY: Uncommon | MAIN SETTLEMENT: The southern end of Sorrowfield, into the Bone Sea and extending to Darington |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
The augury are a seclusive and mysterious race of crow-people who have lived in Deadwood for many tens of thousands of years. Various tribes of auguries have varying physical features, but they all share mostly black feathers, beaks, and claws on their hands and feet. Despite being birdkin, the auguries cannot fly, though they are quite dexterous and make excellent climbers. The auguries are a nomadic people, traveling from place to place following herds or scavenging the ruins of civilizations. Auguries are rarely openly hostile unless they vastly outnumber their opponent. Their bones are hollow, making them lightweight but also very fragile. A single well-placed hit with a club or other blunt object can pretty much drop an augury no problem. They prefer to slink around in the ruins of cities or the edges of a battlefield, foraging for equipment and all-too-important jewels amidst the wreckage. Auguries are obsessed with shiny things, from glittering golden coins to gemstones, but they lack the permanent settlements required for mining so they must take their gems from the ruins they find.
Auguries are viewed by many in Deadwood like we view vultures— scavengers and omens of ill fortune. When you see auguries around, it generally means there has recently been great strife in the area which they have come to profit off of. Auguries are physically weaker than humans, goliaths, or Kaimerians, but they make up for it with dexterity, wit, and keen senses. An augury’s sense of sight is legendary, and it is said they are so perceptive they can find a single gold coin in a sand dune. Despite lacking the typical trappings of modern civilization, auguries are quite smart and extremely resourceful. They have an intuition for finding hidden things, from gemstones to wells, and they strategize exceptionally well. Auguries are highly social within their small, tight-knit tribes, and they are excellent at coordinating.
As is on brand for a race of scavengers, auguries worship a death god known as Khiar-koff, the bringer of death and suffering that all auguries hope to appease. If a drought or famine arrives, it is Khiar-koff’s wrath being taken out upon people who have not given enough to satisfy his demonic hunger. Auguries perform rituals of all kinds to appease Khiar-koff, usually through sacrifice. This cruel religion has opened the auguries to one unique path, though, the magical art known as Kisha making. A kisha is a bone homunculus, a hodge-podge skeleton composed of the skeletons of several animals smashed together. A kisha may have the body of a bear, the tail of a snake, and the head of a troll, all knit together into one skeleton.
When a kisha is complete, a ritual is held by which a living being’s consciousness is transferred into the kisha, giving it life. Kisha are used for all kinds of purposes, from hunting guides to bodyguards. Some kisha even contain the consciousness of an augury, a form called a Kiy-Kisha. These Kiy-kisha are legendary monster-despots, using their authority as prophets of Khiar-koff to command absolute power over a band of auguries. Kisha are valuable assets to auguries, but they come at a price. A kisha regularly needs animals sacrificed to it to remain conscious or else it “starves” to death. A kiy-kisha is even more dependent on sacrifices, and tribes who worship a Kiy-kisha often end up looking more like death cults, dragging travelers away in their sleep to be sacrificed. Additionally, healing a kisha is difficult, as it requires a complex ritual, so if a kisha is wounded it can’t heal naturally.
Karlezek
_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: ~250 years | HEIGHT: 4'6" - 5'1" | WEIGHT: ~110 lbs FREQUENCY: Uncommon | MAIN SETTLEMENT: The mountain range west of Dakora and the Shattered Isles |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Deep within the mountains of the world are ancient dungeons and halls, most of which are empty and devoid of life. These lands, however, used to be part of a greater realm, an empire that once called itself the lords of the mountains. This empire is now fallen, a shadow of its former self.
These are, of course, the Karlezek; a technologically advanced race of humanoids that once prided themselves as owners of a vast empire. Often known as Dwarves by the other races due to their short stature, the Karzelek nonetheless possess greater strength. They are skillful artisans and blacksmiths, making some of the best armor and weapons in the whole of Deadwood. When exposed to sunlight, their naturally light purple skin becomes pale. They do not seem to become darker with continual solar exposure, and don't get sunburned.
Perhaps the most well known and feared part of the Karlezek arsenal are their machines; or rather, the empty metal shells animated by sigils of magic written unto each of their joints and cogs. Like the kisha of the Augury, these silent guardians act as protectors, and in those strongholds where the Karlezek had either fled or died, some of these watchful sentinels remain, guarding the treasures of their deceased masters. These machines have become rarer these days due to the fear of magic that has spread all over Deadwood and even into the realm of the Karlezek, who had a long, varied magical tradition before and after the Cataclysm. Few are those that still possess the knowledge to create them, and fewer still are those that are willing to inherit these feared arts.
A few Karlezek have resided in Exusia since before the fall.
LIFESPAN: 60-65 Years| HEIGHT: 4’6”-5’0” | WEIGHT: 90-100 lbs | FREQUENCY: Uncommon | MAIN SETTLEMENT: The southern end of Sorrowfield, into the Bone Sea and extending to Darington |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
The augury are a seclusive and mysterious race of crow-people who have lived in Deadwood for many tens of thousands of years. Various tribes of auguries have varying physical features, but they all share mostly black feathers, beaks, and claws on their hands and feet. Despite being birdkin, the auguries cannot fly, though they are quite dexterous and make excellent climbers. The auguries are a nomadic people, traveling from place to place following herds or scavenging the ruins of civilizations. Auguries are rarely openly hostile unless they vastly outnumber their opponent. Their bones are hollow, making them lightweight but also very fragile. A single well-placed hit with a club or other blunt object can pretty much drop an augury no problem. They prefer to slink around in the ruins of cities or the edges of a battlefield, foraging for equipment and all-too-important jewels amidst the wreckage. Auguries are obsessed with shiny things, from glittering golden coins to gemstones, but they lack the permanent settlements required for mining so they must take their gems from the ruins they find.
Auguries are viewed by many in Deadwood like we view vultures— scavengers and omens of ill fortune. When you see auguries around, it generally means there has recently been great strife in the area which they have come to profit off of. Auguries are physically weaker than humans, goliaths, or Kaimerians, but they make up for it with dexterity, wit, and keen senses. An augury’s sense of sight is legendary, and it is said they are so perceptive they can find a single gold coin in a sand dune. Despite lacking the typical trappings of modern civilization, auguries are quite smart and extremely resourceful. They have an intuition for finding hidden things, from gemstones to wells, and they strategize exceptionally well. Auguries are highly social within their small, tight-knit tribes, and they are excellent at coordinating.
As is on brand for a race of scavengers, auguries worship a death god known as Khiar-koff, the bringer of death and suffering that all auguries hope to appease. If a drought or famine arrives, it is Khiar-koff’s wrath being taken out upon people who have not given enough to satisfy his demonic hunger. Auguries perform rituals of all kinds to appease Khiar-koff, usually through sacrifice. This cruel religion has opened the auguries to one unique path, though, the magical art known as Kisha making. A kisha is a bone homunculus, a hodge-podge skeleton composed of the skeletons of several animals smashed together. A kisha may have the body of a bear, the tail of a snake, and the head of a troll, all knit together into one skeleton.
When a kisha is complete, a ritual is held by which a living being’s consciousness is transferred into the kisha, giving it life. Kisha are used for all kinds of purposes, from hunting guides to bodyguards. Some kisha even contain the consciousness of an augury, a form called a Kiy-Kisha. These Kiy-kisha are legendary monster-despots, using their authority as prophets of Khiar-koff to command absolute power over a band of auguries. Kisha are valuable assets to auguries, but they come at a price. A kisha regularly needs animals sacrificed to it to remain conscious or else it “starves” to death. A kiy-kisha is even more dependent on sacrifices, and tribes who worship a Kiy-kisha often end up looking more like death cults, dragging travelers away in their sleep to be sacrificed. Additionally, healing a kisha is difficult, as it requires a complex ritual, so if a kisha is wounded it can’t heal naturally.
LIFESPAN: 60-65 Years| HEIGHT: 4’6”-5’0” | WEIGHT: 90-100 lbs | FREQUENCY: Uncommon | MAIN SETTLEMENT: The southern end of Sorrowfield, into the Bone Sea and extending to Darington |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
The augury are a seclusive and mysterious race of crow-people who have lived in Deadwood for many tens of thousands of years. Various tribes of auguries have varying physical features, but they all share mostly black feathers, beaks, and claws on their hands and feet. Despite being birdkin, the auguries cannot fly, though they are quite dexterous and make excellent climbers. The auguries are a nomadic people, traveling from place to place following herds or scavenging the ruins of civilizations. Auguries are rarely openly hostile unless they vastly outnumber their opponent. Their bones are hollow, making them lightweight but also very fragile. A single well-placed hit with a club or other blunt object can pretty much drop an augury no problem. They prefer to slink around in the ruins of cities or the edges of a battlefield, foraging for equipment and all-too-important jewels amidst the wreckage. Auguries are obsessed with shiny things, from glittering golden coins to gemstones, but they lack the permanent settlements required for mining so they must take their gems from the ruins they find.
Auguries are viewed by many in Deadwood like we view vultures— scavengers and omens of ill fortune. When you see auguries around, it generally means there has recently been great strife in the area which they have come to profit off of. Auguries are physically weaker than humans, goliaths, or Kaimerians, but they make up for it with dexterity, wit, and keen senses. An augury’s sense of sight is legendary, and it is said they are so perceptive they can find a single gold coin in a sand dune. Despite lacking the typical trappings of modern civilization, auguries are quite smart and extremely resourceful. They have an intuition for finding hidden things, from gemstones to wells, and they strategize exceptionally well. Auguries are highly social within their small, tight-knit tribes, and they are excellent at coordinating.
As is on brand for a race of scavengers, auguries worship a death god known as Khiar-koff, the bringer of death and suffering that all auguries hope to appease. If a drought or famine arrives, it is Khiar-koff’s wrath being taken out upon people who have not given enough to satisfy his demonic hunger. Auguries perform rituals of all kinds to appease Khiar-koff, usually through sacrifice. This cruel religion has opened the auguries to one unique path, though, the magical art known as Kisha making. A kisha is a bone homunculus, a hodge-podge skeleton composed of the skeletons of several animals smashed together. A kisha may have the body of a bear, the tail of a snake, and the head of a troll, all knit together into one skeleton.
When a kisha is complete, a ritual is held by which a living being’s consciousness is transferred into the kisha, giving it life. Kisha are used for all kinds of purposes, from hunting guides to bodyguards. Some kisha even contain the consciousness of an augury, a form called a Kiy-Kisha. These Kiy-kisha are legendary monster-despots, using their authority as prophets of Khiar-koff to command absolute power over a band of auguries. Kisha are valuable assets to auguries, but they come at a price. A kisha regularly needs animals sacrificed to it to remain conscious or else it “starves” to death. A kiy-kisha is even more dependent on sacrifices, and tribes who worship a Kiy-kisha often end up looking more like death cults, dragging travelers away in their sleep to be sacrificed. Additionally, healing a kisha is difficult, as it requires a complex ritual, so if a kisha is wounded it can’t heal naturally.
What say you, oh Allen-san?
god damn it steve i wake up and you made your race of featheries
_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: 200+ years | HEIGHT: 5’2” - 5’11” | WEIGHT: 135 lbs | FREQUENCY: Uncommon; few Dragonborne venture beyond their capital city, Mithras. There is, however, a community of wealthy Dragonborne in Exusia. | MAIN SETTLEMENT: Mithras | In between Hope and the Sorrowfields
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
The ancestors of the Dragonborne used to be ordinary humans, until they were turned to their current state by Mitharos and Elkaria, a pair of dragons that wielded powerful magic. These ancestors were said to have been incolcacated with the blood of dragons, granting them heightened parameters. These Dragonborne had the twin dragons as their rulers, formed a pair of city states south of modern Hope and north of the Sorrowfields named in honour of the ones that had turned them into a powerful race; Mithras and Elkrosius. These cities were centers of trade and commerce until the cataclysm that wrecked the whole world, where Elkrosius was completely destroyed, and half of Mithras was completely obliterated. Mitharos and Elkaria were both killed in the event, leaving the Council of High Lords to lead the remaining Dragonborne. The surviving half of Mithras is a shadow of its former self, but it serves as a safe haven in the wilderness, as well as a shelter for persecuted magefolk. Mithras has managed to survive the years after the cataclysm rather well, with the Council of High Lords holding the remaining half of the city together. As such, Mithras and its surrounding area has remained untouched by raiders and slavers, who fear the fierce warriors and witches of the Dragonborne.
The Dragonborne, as a whole, are slightly shorter in average than baseline humans, but have greater physical strength and a longer lifespan. Dragonborne are also resistant to fire damage. They look no different to humans, except for the fact that their eyes glow a bright gold or cerulean; the colors of Mitharos and Elkaria, respectively. They usually have pale skin due to their region having constant cloud cover.
Dragonborne are not well known by the other races due to their reclusive nature. Most of the time, the only thing the average person could tell about them is that they're a race of people with glowing eyes, and not much else. However, those who are knowledgeable about them know not to underestimate the ones with dragon blood flowing in their veins.
So despite introducing the totally-not-kenku, I will not be playing a totally-not-kenku. I'll have the race up tonight and the sheet up...sometime later.
So despite introducing the totally-not-kenku, I will not be playing a totally-not-kenku. I'll have the race up tonight and the sheet up...sometime later.
LIFESPAN: 100 years and 1 Day| HEIGHT: Highly variable. Generally 7-8 feet. | WEIGHT: Highly variable. Large ones are generally 11,000-22,000 lbs | FREQUENCY: Rare | MAIN SETTLEMENT: Exusia |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Less of a race and more of a tool, golems are semi-sentient beings composed of inorganic material such as clay, stone, or iron. The process of making a golem is time and resource-intensive, requiring detailed carving, the sacrifice of many animals, and loads of incantations. It can take an entire team of wizards months to build just one golem, but the results are extremely worth it. Golems are enormous, powerful, and easy to control. They can lift their body weight, meaning most golems can lift literal tons of weight. The force of a golem’s punch can bend steel and shatter brick. If you are about to be punched by a golem, your best course of action is to put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. The material of a golem is usually hard, such as metal or stone, and as such golems are extremely durable. Weapons like swords or spears, or elements such as fire, deal basically no damage to a golem, and they do not wear down easily. Once made, a golem’s form becomes magically inert, meaning that it cannot be altered by rock or metal-bending magic. Finally, a golem does not require food, water, or air to survive, though they do need to occasionally sleep or the magic holding their bodies together weakens. They have incredible endurance and do not need to be fed. These aspects make golems useful for many purposes, from guarding important buildings or figures to manual labor such as mining or porting.
Golems are by no means unstoppable though. They may be strong, but they are extremely slow due to their bulk. A golem’s top speed is around 4 miles per hour, a slow jog basically, and their attacks are extremely telegraphed. While structures may be unable to move, a person with even decent dexterity could easily dodge a golem’s punch. Additionally, stone golems don’t do well with concussive or blunt force. Rock is strong, but brittle, and so golems are liable to crack and break if hit by sufficient blunt force. The general military solution to a golem is cannonfire, as the force of a cannon is strong enough to destroy a golem completely and golems are too slow to get out of a cannon’s way. For the average melee fighter, taking on a golem is extremely challenging, but it is possible. Golems are held together at the joints by arcane sigils and if those sigils are broken, the spell holding that part of the golem together ends. Breaking one of those sigils will cause whatever limb it’s holding onto to fall off, weakening the golem. Another weakness of the golem is its inflexible thinking. Golems barely have free will, and while logical, they are simple-minded creatures. They are distinctly uncreative and seldom ever consider an indirect or out-of-the-box solution to a problem. If the first idea a golem comes up with fails, it will most likely give up, and golems are suckers for creative traps. Finally, a golem has a predetermined lifespan. A golem will live exactly 100 years and 1 day, and then the arcane battery powering it will sputter out and the golem will revert to a pile of inanimate stone.
Every golem has a talisman bound to them at the time of their awakening ritual. This talisman is made from the same material that the golem is and is covered with intricate runes. These talismans are guarded closely or entrusted to powerful spellcasters, as they contain the power to control the golem they were made for. While under the sway of a talisman, a golem has zero free will and performs its tasks exactly as it is told with no variation. It will continue that task until it is told to stop, even if said task completely destroys them. A talisman is inseparably bound to one golem and one golem alone, and if it breaks, the golem loses its form and dies… except when it doesn’t (intentional cliffhanger for Maxx’s character).
@The Man Emperor So me and Zomb were talking about it for a few days and we've decided to decline this race. Zomb's primary problem was that they seem to be "human-lite" - basically humans but with a magic ability - and he doesn't want to set a precedent. They aren't really what we are looking for in terms of races, tbh. My issue is that magic is a strictly learned ability. I don't want to complicate things by adding nineteen different magic systems.
Look at races like the ones Maxx submitted to get a better idea of what we want.
@The Man Emperor So me and Zomb were talking about it for a few days and we've decided to decline this race. Zomb's primary problem was that they seem to be "human-lite" - basically humans but with a magic ability - and he doesn't want to set a precedent. They aren't really what we are looking for in terms of races, tbh. My issue is that magic is a strictly learned ability. I don't want to complicate things by adding nineteen different magic systems.
Look at races like the ones Maxx submitted to get a better idea of what we want.
Here is bug race posted in thread for the people, hello I am Utrax.
Gi-Syn-Yi
_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: 60yrs | HEIGHT: 4ft-5ft | WEIGHT: 30-80lbs | FREQUENCY: Extremely Rare | MAIN SETTLEMENT: Hv-Yit-Ki (Beneath The Bone Sea) |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
From a fathomless distance beyond the stars, there came a terror, chitinous and buzzing. A Legion poured from the skies to lay waste to a people, clad in animal skins and infantile as a race, which knew not what the creatures were or why they came. Such as it was, the people faced hardship and near extinction, but there came intervention. None recall the battle which lead to the Gi-Syn-Yi's retreat, the means of their crushing defeat, or the deadly foe they faced, but they fled.
Deep into the caverns and veins of the world, hidden beneath the stone and sand, unable to return to the stars they so cherished, they fled. Centuries passed as their warriors and priests died, stories faded, oral traditions shifted, and stellar ideals warped. Not one of the Gi-Syn-Yi of today's population stands as tall or looks as imposing as their predecessors. Not one recalls the details of the passing of the centuries or the battle from which they fled. There remains only a lingering fear of the 'Dark Howling One' and an ancestral call home.
Indeed they have devolved somewhat, adapted to survive in the cramped darkness of their underground city. With the passing of time, a species predispositioned for conquest and war has grown mellow and thoughtful. Generally, they are a heavily sarcastic and witty people, with a very slow to anger kind of disposition these days. They're smaller now-- both in stature and in population-- than their eight-foot tall and innumerable ancestors, and quite a deal weaker. Their bodies have adapted to the digging and crouching of their environment-- adapted through generational mutation-- for any dangers which present themselves in caves.
Thick chitin covers their outer bodies, acting as an armor for a soft inner body. This chitin is incapable of being pierced or crushed, unless a MIGHTY force impacts it, and can endure sustained weight pressures as well as high falls with little to no damage. They are able to maintain life without air indefinitely, and survive without food or water for up to two months, before lapsing into a life-saving coma, which can last up to two more months before death.
Gi-Syn-Yi forelimbs have grown to be thick and heavy, with dexterous fingers, tipped in claws that grow continuously through their lifespan, which are worn down only by their persistent digging. Most of them have four forelimbs and two hind legs. Utilizing all of their limbs, they can sprint quite quickly when pushed, but their gait is rather clumsy when walking on hind legs alone.
Most could describe their appearances as similar to a number of insects-- beetles, millipedes, crickets, ants-- and their bodies are often a mix of limbs, colors, statures, and chitin patterns. Their varied bodies contribute to their dynamic adaptability and teamwork driven society. Though some often sport the horns or wings of their ancestors, the wings are usually fragile or immobile, as their capability to fly was lost in the genetics at some point.
Their ability to heal is slow and amputation is common, as a means of reducing the pain and risk of infection with a wounded limb. Their bodies being punctured has a high mortality rate but this is a rare occurrence-- a special concoction, made of their own chitin, is used to seal their wounds; things to "clog" the puncture wound often work, if nothing else is available. Their ability to feel pain is lowered but when they feel it, the pain takes weeks to subside, if it ever does.
They have to molt every three months, during which time they are vulnerable and soft for four days until hardening. Very strictly, they live only until sixty years have passed and no more-- always dying on the sunset of their sixtieth year. The chitinous outer bodies of the dead are re-purposed into weapons, medicines, or tools, with their soft inner body being placed in a mass grave, where they have piled their dead for centuries. This collective rotting is important, as the dead act as essential nutrients for the living.
Physically, theres no distinction between genders among them. All Gi-Syn-Yi are capable of donating biological matter to construct an "egg". Collectively, their eggs are fertilized by the decaying corpse matter of their deceased, as a sort of mulch, that is leeched through the pliable egg surface. Conceptually, gender makes little sense to these extra planetary beings so, their understanding of it equates to "a societal role," and they often insist their genders are their job titles. As other creatures grapple with this, pronouns referring to Gi-Syn-Yi often dissolve into neutrality or calling them by honorifics, i.e. "The Jit."
Intelligent, creative, and deeply loyal to their society, the Gi-Syn-Yi come to the surface reluctantly and rarely, as their eyesight is poor, and the light of the sun pains their eyes-- even torchlight is considered too bright. Scent, temperature perception, and hearing act as their primary senses. On the surface, they are veiled and usually wearing shaded lenses or darkening helmets. At the behest of their Hv-Jit-- the Leading Council-- whenever a matter of great importance occurs, they are sent to the surface to investigate. Usually, a representative or scout is sent alone but the occasional band of warriors or spies have emerged, much to the confusion of the "LOW INTELLIGENCE MEATSKINS" above.
Some very few Gi-Syn-Yi can be found among Bone Clans or in New Kaimeria, taking very innocuous background roles as laborers or janitors, and secretly reporting their findings on the surface to their Council. Using their antennae, they can tune to different frequencies of sound in order to hear, and can hear great distances and through solid objects, if said objects are not too thick or sturdy. This makes their "spying" easier and a subvocal form of communication between them possible.
Often, they bring with them odd inventions and curious trinkets, testing them on the surface or its people, before returning to Hv-Yit-Ki. As it stands, only the Gi-Syn-Yi themselves are capable of accessing their home beneath the bones, for they seal the entrance behind them, with nearly a mile's depth of sand and stone.
For the Gi-Syn-Yi, the song of their ancestral home can quite literally be heard, calling them back to the cosmos. All of their conniving, inventing, and spying is for the sake of returning to that place beyond the stars.
Using the given name is considered "intimate" and should only be used by parents, close friends, or lovers. Meatskins usually only know them as two names-- the first and last-- unless they wish to have more formality, which means using only their job title. Job titles often change over the course of a Gi-Syn-Yi's life and they do what is best for their society without question. Elder title is earned at the age of 48 and ounglings mature into adults at age 3. Titles are quite literally pheromone scents that other Gi-Syn-Yi can detect within paces of eachother. Simultaneous title holding is possible-- limited to two-- in which case the job titles combine as a singular endname, with primary duty coming first.
Genderless, but they tend to use they/them or he/him pronouns.
HOMETOWN:
Unknown
HEIGHT:
8’0”
WEIGHT:
22,000 lbs
_______________________________
"The ticking never stops. The angles hurt me when I try to think."
_______________________________
The Stone Rejected The Stone Rejected
"I belong nowhere. I find none like myself. What is my purpose in this place?"
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What are you? What are you?
APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I am a rock."
Number 14 is golem, a sentient construct composed of granite. His entire body is cobbled together out of these stones via arcane runes that act kind of like joints. Number 14’s body is humanoid, but it isn’t very well-defined, with no musculature, hair, or genitals, though he does wear clothes because otherwise people get uncomfortable. He stands eight feet tall, with hulking shoulders and a noticeable hunch. Number 14 doesn’t have a neck at all really, as his head just connects right to his shoulders. His arms are gargantuan, with thick forearms and hands the size of catcher’s mitts. On his left forearm is inscribed the words “Number Fourteen”, which is where he gets his name. Number 14’s head is round, with a square jaw (literally cut of stone), and a bald scalp. He has a straight mouth, literally a straight line that cannot show emotion, a bump reminiscent of a nose, and two perfectly round eyes that glow white.
Number 14 is a tank of a being and he moves like one, striding slowly but deliberately, the ground literally shaking beneath him. He can be quite clumsy and often bumps into objects, usually destroying them in the process. Dexterity is not Number 14’s forte. He is incredibly slow, his fastest possible movement speed a little more than a jog, but he moves with terrifying force. Number 14’s voice is as low as you can imagine, like the earth itself is rumbling in a speech pattern.
To make other beings more comfortable, Number 14 wears clothing. Generally, he wears a beige short-sleeved tunic, a brown hood, a brown leather belt, and brown trousers. He doesn’t wear shoes, as getting a tailor to make pants big enough to cover his gargantuan ass was hard enough and getting a cobbler to custom make him shoes would be too much of a bother. He carries no obvious weaponry of any kind (read: he is the weapon).
CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I have determined the logical solution to this problem to be: punching."
Number 14 is a golem, a true tank amongst tanks. He is extremely heavy owing to his rock-carved nature, clocking in at over 22,000 lbs, not much lighter than a school bus. As a rule, golems can lift as much as they weigh, making Number 14 staggeringly strong. To put this into perspective, Number 14 could bench press a bull elephant without breaking a sweat and throw cars (if they existed) around like they’re frisbees. Number 14’s punch is, unsurprisingly, devastating, capable of obliterating basically whatever it hits. The force behind one of his punches is relatively equivalent to getting hit by a midsize SUV going 20 mph. When impact occurs, bones snap, tissues turn to jelly, and armor shatters to bits. Basically, if you are about to get hit by Number 14’s punch, your best course of action is to put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. Some wooden structures, as well as structures made of rocks less hard than granite, such as stucco, brick, or limestone, hardly stand up to one of Number 14’s punches either, making him a great siege weapon. To counterbalance this, however, Number 14 is extremely slow and his attacks are telegraphed to all hell, to the point where you have to either be stupid or cornered to get hit by one. Number 14 is slow in general, his top speed only about 4 mph, a light jog.
In addition, Number 14’s granite nature makes him extremely durable. Slashing or piercing weapons, such as arrows or swords, are basically useless against him, the equivalent of trying to use a knife to mine ore. Some elemental damage, such as fire or electricity, also barely effects Number 14 due to his naturally fire-retardant nature. As a golem, Number 14 is also magically immutable, meaning that spells that alter the shape of stone cannot be used to mess with his body. While basically immune to piercing and slashing, concussive or blunt-force damage is effective against Number 14 and can do massive damage to him. In warfare, golems are often countered with cannonfire, as a hit from a cannon can take them down in one hit and golems are usually too slow to get out of the way. An additional weakness is that Number 14’s body is held together by a series of arcane sigils in his joints. Essentially, two identical sigils are placed on each side of the joint and these together allow it to animate. If either of these runes are damaged, the limb stops functioning and it can’t be fixed— the entire joint has to be sanded down and the sigils replaced, a process which can take days and that can only be done by experienced golem-crafters (few and far between in Deadwood).
Another advantage of being a golem is that Number 14 doesn’t require water, food, or oxygen to live, as he is powered by an internal magical battery made of the souls of dozens of sacrificed creatures. This battery gives him significant endurance, despite his slowness, meant to keep golems industrious when they are mining or doing other manual labor tasks. Number 14 does need to sleep, especially after exerting himself a lot, as the battery needs time to recharge. While sleeping, Number 14’s arcane limb joints weaken, meaning that he becomes even more lethargic than usual. Normally, he needs about 4 hours of sleep to function at full capacity. An additional built-in flaw of the golem is their lifespan, which is predetermined from their birth. Every golem lives for 100 years and 1 day, and after that their battery fails and they collapse into a pile of rocks.
Stone of Far Speech: One thing that Number 14 possesses (that most golems do not) is a rock with a spiraling arcane sigil carved into it. This rock fits into Number 14's body where his right ear would be and unlike the other rocks in him, it can be removed and replaced without damaging him. If the rock is removed, Number 14 can continue to hear through it and can speak through it, kind of like a walkie talkie. If he closes his eyes, Number 14 can see limitedly through the stone as well, though only for a few feet. The stone can be moved any distance away from Number 14 and still work, but if it is destroyed, he cannot generate a new one.
An important aspect of golem psychology: Something else I want to mention: golems are not people. Their minds work in somewhat alien ways compared to a human and they’re much more akin to a slightly more sentient computer. They aren’t unintelligent, per say— Number 14 can read, write, and solve math problems that the average medieval person couldn’t— but golems possess a certain inflexibility in their thinking and a lack of creativity. Golems have a hard time coming up with or solving problems that require outside-the-box thinking, and this is something Number 14 struggles with. General golem problem-solving consists of the following: (1) try the most direct solution, (2) if direct solution doesn’t work, give up, or (3) continue trying the direct solution anyways until either it works or the golem collapses of exhaustion.
EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "This small one gives me comfort."
Number 14 packs light. He carries only a burlap sack with a rope strap in which he stores his few possessions. Within this bag are a few silver pieces, several rocks that Number 14 has collected across his journey (mostly quartz crystals of various varieties), and a statue of a stout humanoid made out of clay which was given to him by a child. The statue gives him a sense of companionship, though he knows it is illogical to tie such feelings to an inanimate object.
GOAL ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Exusia, the city in the sky...."
As a golem, Number 14 is inextricably motivated to find a single fulfilling purpose in life. Golems were not made to be free thinkers- they have a master that controls their every action. But Number 14 doesn’t have this, and it hurts to not have a purpose. Currently, Number 14’s goal is to return to Exusia, where he hopes someone can make him a talisman and find a purpose for him.
PERSONALITY ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I feel...feeling causes me discomfort."
Golems weren’t meant to be free. The mind of a golem is much more similar to a computer than a person, designed to focus on a single mundane task for an incredible amount of time. The golem’s master is supposed to do the thinking for it, but Number 14 has no master. Furthermore, Number 14 has cannot remember who his master was or anything about his life prior to awakening in the Sea of Bones. From his point of view, he just kind of...showed up one day. This is all context just to understand how Number 14 is as a...person?
Number 14 is highly logical in his thought process, but is single-minded and stubborn. He loves performing mundane tasks such as cooking, laundry, or manual labor, and does not seem at all distressed at all by harsh working conditions. Sometimes, he will show up at mining camps or lumber yards, work for a few hours unprompted, and then continue on with his life, not asking for payment and ignoring any who try to stop him from leaving. Thinking in the way humans think causes Number 14 distress, especially talking about his feelings or attempting to come up with hypothetical scenarios. For the most part, his head is pretty devoid of such thoughts, but being forced to imagine things or think outside of the box causes him pain. If you have ever dealt with the psychic pain caused by a mental illness such as OCD, this is how Number 14 feels when he does this.
Number 14 has emotions in the same way that a McDonald’s cheeseburger has meat in it: it’s buried very deep down and hardly noticeable from the surface. Most feelings Number 14 talks about are physical sensations: hot, cold, in pain, etc. He rarely says that he is happy, sad, or angry and is very difficult to read due to his inexpressive face. He definitely feels comfort and safety around things he is familiar with, and feels anxiety and fear around things which threaten him. The primary emotions in Number 14’s head are longing and loneliness, an empty space in his heart not unfamiliar to those who have experienced heartbreak. Number 14 feels like something is missing from him in a very literal way. He has no dreams or hopes for his life, just a dull pain in his chest that drives him to look for answers to his purpose in existing. Working lets him ignore this pain for some time, but it always returns, pounding in his chest and temples like a war drum.
Despite his hulking size and physical prowess, Number 14 is slow to anger and generally dislikes violence. If given the opportunity to talk a situation out, he will do so, even if he thinks he could win the fight. If talking doesn’t work, Number 14 usually just leaves, using his bulk to shrug off any attacks he might face from an aggressor. In his estimation, most of the folk who are dumb enough to pick a fight with a golem usually lack the ability to actually damage one, and thus far in his memory Number 14 has never been injured by a person starting a fight with him (monsters are another story). Insults generally either bounce off of Number 14 or go over his head completely. Taking offense from words is illogical in his opinion.
By alignment, Number 14’s probably Lawful Neutral. He doesn’t go out of his way to right wrongs in which he is not involved, but if given the option he’ll generally try to do the right thing. As mentioned prior, Number 14 likes following orders, and if asked to do something he’ll generally just do it. Remorse is not an emotion that comes easily to Number 14, and he doesn’t usually apologize for things. If he does something wrong, he usually writes it off either as him not having full understanding of the situation or something out of his control occurring. He might say something like “I did not intend to rip your arm off”, but he won’t say “I am sorry that I ripped your arm off.”
The ticking never stops. The whirring and grinding of gears I cannot see persists no matter what solution I employ. When I try to stop them, my mind slips off unsuccessful. My mind slips off of many things. It is as if my mind is filled with sharp things that cut me when I try to think, but I cannot see the knives. I am locked in a container and I cannot see the walls.
I do not know who I am. I do not know why I am here.
I awoke in a field with dust clouds above me and the remnants of farmland around me. Dried grass and animal bones prickled against my stone. I found words carved into my arm: Number Fourteen. I think that is my name. I do not know how I know how to read these words, but I do. I do not remember learning to read. I do not remember anything. Perhaps I fell in battle in that field. Perhaps I was born there, some cosmic entity’s attempt at comedy to make a stone contemplate its existence...there it is again, the cutting against my thoughts. I do not think I was made to think.
I rose from that field and I traveled, hoping to find answers to my questions. I found nothing but bones and sand. I saw a great fortress between two mountains. I walked its halls, looking for purpose, but I was met with hostility. I am often met with hostility. There was a man there with a great hammer. He meant to kill me. He called me a monster. In the end, he was easy to throw, and then he died. I was no longer welcome in that place. I do not even remember its name.
I met a man on a dirt road who was a spellcaster. He called himself Henrich. He told me some things that were useful to me. I am a golem, a creature made of stone by magic. I was created to serve a spellcaster, but in order to serve them, they must possess a talisman which controls my behaviors and actions. Henrich asked me where my talisman was, and I did not know. I still do not know if it even exists. Henrich had never heard of a golem without a talisman, but he figured that part of my distress comes from this nature. He said there was a place where I could learn more, a place called Exusia, but it is up in the clouds and impossible to reach. He said he might know a person who could take me there. Before we could go, however, we were attacked in the night. Beasts set upon us from the wilderness: large black wolves with teeth so large they couldn’t close their mouths. The wolves could not harm me, but Henrich was killed. I never learned of the person who could take me to Exusia.
At least now I have a direction. I must travel to Exusia and find where I came from. Otherwise, I will never be satisfied and this grim pain will never leave me.
_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: ~250 years | HEIGHT: 4'6" - 5'1" | WEIGHT: ~110 lbs FREQUENCY: Uncommon | MAIN SETTLEMENT: The mountain range west of Dakora and the Shattered Isles |
DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Deep within the mountains of the world are ancient dungeons and halls, most of which are empty and devoid of life. These lands, however, used to be part of a greater realm, an empire that once called itself the lords of the mountains. This empire is now fallen, a shadow of its former self.
These are, of course, the Karlezek; a technologically advanced race of humanoids that once prided themselves as owners of a vast empire. Often known as Dwarves by the other races due to their short stature, the Karzelek nonetheless possess greater strength. They are skillful artisans and blacksmiths, making some of the best armor and weapons in the whole of Deadwood. When exposed to sunlight, their naturally light purple skin becomes pale. They do not seem to become darker with continual solar exposure, and don't get sunburned.
Perhaps the most well known and feared part of the Karlezek arsenal are their machines; or rather, the empty metal shells animated by sigils of magic written unto each of their joints and cogs. Like the kisha of the Augury, these silent guardians act as protectors, and in those strongholds where the Karlezek had either fled or died, some of these watchful sentinels remain, guarding the treasures of their deceased masters. These machines have become rarer these days due to the fear of magic that has spread all over Deadwood and even into the realm of the Karlezek, who had a long, varied magical tradition before and after the Cataclysm. Few are those that still possess the knowledge to create them, and fewer still are those that are willing to inherit these feared arts.
A few Karlezek have resided in Exusia since before the fall.
_______________________________
NAME:
Azariah Kravchenko
AGE:
25
RACE:
Karlezek
PRONOUNS:
He/Him
HOMETOWN:
Mithras
HEIGHT:
5'
WEIGHT:
100 lbs
_______________________________
"Don't look down."
Azariah Kravchenko
_______________________________
The Keeper The Keeper
"I only seek wealth... and friendship."
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What are you? What are you?
APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Damn, everyone's so much bigger."
Perhaps the first thing people think when seeing Azariah is that he’s… well, unimpressive. Short and light, he does not look like someone that could really bring a beating to anyone. Strangely enough, his hair is white, perhaps because of a birth defect, or the magic that he had immersed himself in. He keeps his hair neat in a buzz cut, though he would sometimes opt for an undercut instead. Azariah is pretty fair skinned at the day, but at the night, he reverts to a light purple. Underneath, Azariah has a rather toned body due to the hard work that he did while studying as an apprentice. For his wardrobe, he usually wears cloaks over his tunic and trousers, as he often feels cold. He seems to like black and blue the most.
CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Arise, my… uh, six legged walking rock?"
While at a disadvantage due to his short stature, Azariah is nevertheless a fairly competent swordsman, being able to hold his own against most opponents that would be encountered in the wilderness. He is not a true master, as it is not his focus; it is purely for defense, as Azariah is a magic wielder. In particular he is one of the few Karlezek that still knows the arts of mechanical animation; or, more properly, he had learned from someone who did. In theory, any material can be used to create a functioning animatronic; however, the actual creation of one requires sigils to be written on each working joint and cog, and each sigil has to have specific parameters of movement. The Karlezek had expedited this process by building metal shells with specific instructions on what sigils to place and where, but those are limited in number and can't really be replaced while in the middle of the wilderness.
The rest of his spells are mostly offensive in nature, seeking to harm opponents. However, being simply an apprentice, they are often time consuming to cast, as the translations are rather difficult to pronounce. Most of the time, he is able to conjure balls of fire and bolts of lightning, though he rarely does this as it is too slow of a process.
EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I have everything I need."
Azariah has a forged steel broadsword, which is half his length. As backup, he keeps a dagger hidden inside his coat. As a magician, Azariah has a tome. He had only mastered Mechanical Animation. Speaking of which, Azariah also uses a pair of Karlezek magishells animated by magic sigils for protection. Made from steel, they have the likeness of monkeys, and their primary purpose is to protect Azariah from attack through their razor sharp claws and teeth, though he is able to control them with verbal commands. He only uses one at a time as they are irreplaceable if destroyed or lost.
GOAL ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I will get rich, but I will do so my way."
Unlike others, who seek vengeance against slavers or are looking for lost family members, Azariah has a far more mundane goal. He found a rigid life within the walls of Mithras that kept a strict hierarchy as the norm as boring. He also wants to shirk the responsibilities of being the heir of a clan of traders while still getting rich. He pretty much wants to see the world, even if it is one laden with chaos. After all, what good is his magic and sword training if he can't use them?
PERSONALITY ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Don’t give me the hard jobs, damn it!"
Azariah is a laid back, carefree person, disinterested in taking up the responsibilities that have been expected of him by society. It may seem that he’s selfish, and maybe even a lazy bum, but Azariah is simply not cut out for being a master; at least that is what he tells himself. He believes in choosing his own path in life, nevermind what everyone tells him to do. However, he is loyal to a fault, at least to those that respect his life choices, and will do anything short of dying to keep a friend safe. Azariah is friendly to most, eschewing the rudeness and cynical attitude that the average rough Deadwooder shows.
Having been raised in the walled off society of Mithras, Azariah does not know the horrors as well as others; while he knows about all of them through books and stories, he is yet to face the likes of Grief Demons, slavers, and other monstrosities. He has, however, a good comprehensive knowledge on known creatures. Azariah is thus a little naive; though his optimism and continual hope for the future serves as a light in any group. He knows when to speak, and usually keeps quiet when someone is in the process of exploding.
Azariah Kravchenko was born and raised on Mithras, the child of Karlezek traders. He was told that some of their brethren came to the flying city when the queen invited the mages of Deadwood to Exusia;some of the best and brightest of the Karlezek mages left the cities of their kind to live a life of disconnection from the rest of the world. It would seem that their decision to leave was a wise one, as the world exploded, taking two thirds of the Karlkezek realm with it in the cataclysm. These Karlezek would stay on Exusia, becoming a small but wealthy community of magefolk, traders, and warriors.
Azariah grew up in relative stability within the walls of Mithras, every day of his life being spent within its halls and noble mansions. He was also given the best tutors by his parents. However, it was their intention to marry him off in an arranged marriage in an effort to keep their failing trade afloat.
He knew that this was his eventual fate as their eldest heir, and he had no intention of letting it happen. After all, it was, in his perspective, boring, tedious, and full of intrigue and the danger of assassination in the middle of the night by his own kind. What he wanted was to get to the flying city and be free of all the responsibilities of being an heir while doing whatever the hell he wants. Truthfully, he was spurred on by the mage that he studied under as an apprentice. His master, Harukou, said that life within these walls will get tedious eventually, as seeing the same things again and again was not living. Plus, sooner or later, they will have to reclaim the dead lands; no city will not last forever. No civilization ever does. They might as well go Exusia and then get rich there, and then maybe help to reclaim the lands after that. Sad thing was, Exusia only lets in those that it wants. He was, as such, resigned to his eventual arranged marriage and boring, useless life… until an advertisement showed up in the central plaza of Mithras, telling of an offer for anyone brave or foolish enough to investigate the lands, in exchange for being allowed into Exusia and gain great wealth...
"A fire can warm a house or turn it to ash. It all depends on who starts it."
_______________________________
the Sacrilegious Turncoat the Sacrilegious Turncoat
"Seek out Evil. Destroy the Source. End the Suffering. Words I used to live by. Stupid, stupid words."
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What are you? What are you?
APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I suppose most will only notice the cover of the book anyway."
The first thing most would notice about Hazel is that she looks practically untouched by the horrors of Deadwood. There is not a cress upon her face, a scar on her body, or a discoloration upon her light skin. Her lightning blue eyes have witnessed atrocities incited by the very words from her lips, but the weight and stress that it has brought upon her is only carried inside. Her straight, strawberry blonde hair is clean and cut just above the shoulder, framing her angular face. She wears golden earrings and a silver necklace that flashes in the sunlight, taunting brigands that watch from the shadows.
It’s easily assumed from looking at her that Hazel was born in a high station and it extends into her mannerisms. She ever so slightly holds her pointed chin up, yet avoids appearing condescending. She stands with her shoulder’s back and her hands clasped behind her back, making her appear taller and broader than her actual body. Her stride is confident and unrushed, her eyes shining as she engulfs the environment and people around her. Her voice is soothing like a warm blanket coupled and a cup of hot cider after weeks navigating through the wilds. Despite her aura of elegance, Hazel dresses in sensible traveller clothes that, while pristine, are more functional than fashionable.
CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Those things are still part of me, but now I can use them for something greater."
Hazel’s greatly shines when it comes to being an investigator of both mundane and arcane nature. After spending nearly a decade operating as a witch hunter for the Ember Makers, she excels at following leads and sussing out the truth. Although less pertinent now as an independent agent, the skillset she learned while hunting witches still has its uses. In civilized or manmade areas she knows how to command authority, spot when someone is bullshitting her, or notice oddities and traps. In the wilds she can easily track just about anything, find safe locations for shelter, or notice the telltale signs of a monster’s lair. Against magic users she claims to have a kind of sixth sense, able to intuit what sort of ritual they are attempting to cast or “detecting” residue magic surrounding them after recent spell casts.
While she has an abundance of stamina, she is not very skilled when it comes to fighting—typically Witchfinders hire muscle to work alongside them in the field. However, she has acquired an ancient arcane tome. While written in an ancient cipher based upon a dead language, Hazel has begun to work on cracking the code and has translated some of the spells. Her spells are largely supportive, serving to bolster her allies and hinder her enemies, but due to the rough translation are not perfect and can swell with rampant arcane energy. These Flares, as she has come to call them, are extremely rare but hint at a greater, more dangerous power to come. The obvious threat of being exposed as a mage and the potential for catastrophe with her Flares makes Hazel treat most of her spells as a final, desperate action instead of a go-to solution.
Healing Warmth: Hazel can cure most forms of light wounds by laying her hand upon the injury and performing a short ritual. Blood, either from the injured or from herself, is traced with her finger near the wound and then burned in the ritual to quickly cauterize and heal the injury. After the spell is cast the blood turns to ash and falls away. People who are healed by Hazel feel warmth as it is casted. While she can momentarily stabilize gravely injured people, her normal heal cannot pull them back from death’s door. The spell takes enough time to cast and requires a steady hand that it is difficult to perform while threatened. It doesn’t treat diseases, curses, or other abnormalities.
Flare - Purifying Ashes: The blood sigils run causing the ritual to go array, yet while it should it does not fail. The target of her spell feels agonizing pain as all of the blood inside their body begins to boil and their flesh begins to glow like a star about to go supernova. Their skin is briefly covered in an encasement of ash that quickly cracks and falls away. Hazel’s heal can now pull someone back from the brink of death, remove all their wounds, and cleanse most abnormalities. Unless they are especially hardy the sheer pain of the heal will knock out most individuals for a short time, making it even riskier for Hazel to heal others with under attack.
Natural Barrier: Hazel draws runes with dirt on the ground that allows her to terraform the earth around her. Veins of harmless flames streak from the runes to the targeted area, momentarily glow in the targeted area, and then melds the earth. She can cause rock barriers to jut up to form defensive walls, loosen and muddy the ground to make creatures get stuck, or create safer paths through treacherous areas. The time it takes to prepare the ritual depends on the form of the spell, with barriers being the quickest and paths being the longest. The earth shifts slowly enough that it doesn’t harm anyone caught on it, but is fast enough that it can be tricky to avoid and can be used to block obvious incoming attacks.
Flare - Natural Disaster: Something goes horribly wrong. The ground shifts and quakes, the harmless flames begin to leap like geysers and spew rocks and smoke, and then everyone better take cover or flee. Depending on the Natural Barrier she was going for, the intensity of the disaster shifts. The rock barriers now burst out of the earth as quick as a fatal spear thrust before erupting in a blast of hot magma in a small area around them. The muddied ground turns to tar and spews forth poisonous volcanic ash, slowly choking the life out of whatever is unfortunate to be stuck in it. The path causes a massive fissure, plowing through whatever stands in its way like a frenzied Beast of Suffering and permanently changing the environment til the end of days.
Bonfire: Hazel sprinkles a circle of ash around a piece of coal and creates a magical flame up to the size of a decent campfire. She cannot be burned by the flame, but others can. While useful in a utilitarian sense, Hazel is capable of controlling any flames she creates in this manner with directions from fingers coated in ash. She can smear the ash across the ground to create an opaque wall of fire, grab the coal to create a torch in her hand, or chuck the coal to throw a splash of fire at someone. Due to being magical, the fire does not behave like a normal fire would—it does burn enough to hurt, but it will not spread outside of the ash lines, cannot catch flammable objects on fire, and goes out quick once the coal is tossed away from the ash. In a fight a blade is more dangerous than her flame, but the sight of someone throwing fire is generally enough to keep the swords at bay.
Flare - Funeral Pyre: The ash lifts from the ground, encircles Hazel, and engulfs her like a witch being burned at the stake as she becomes a walking inferno. While the flames still do not harm her, the conflagration surrounding her acts like a wildfire and is capable of spreading. She can spray fire from her hands like a dragon’s breath and whip it around her like a deadly firestorm, but she has no control over the flames once they are produced. The spell burns quickly, but the destruction caused by it and the remaining fires continue to burn long after the ash has blown away from her form.
Burning Gaze: Hazel’s quickest and simplest spell. She streaks a smear of ash over her eyes and blinks it away. Her eyes appear like burning coals that strike fear into wild beasts and weak-willed, unintelligent monsters, prompting them to flee from her or freeze in place instead of fighting. While minorly unsettling, it is ineffective against humanoids and creatures at the top of the food chain. Since she must lock eyes with the target of the spell it is difficult to use against packs of animals, as the fear effect begins to fade as she turns the spell towards another.
Flare - Terrifying Gaze: Creatures see an unspeakable horror when look into Hazel’s eyes, capable of making even the most daring of adventurers stop in terror. She knows not what they see, for none who have witnessed it would ever dare to approach her after she looks away.
EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "My system is one of organized chaos verging on catastrophic destruction."
Her aforementioned satchel is stuffed with basic supplies, adventuring gear like rope and lanterns, and a journal. She wears three tiny pouches at her side, one for coin, one filled with coal, and the other filled with ash. Wrapped against her satchel is a map case stuffed with local maps, a spy glass, and cartography tools. Hung at her side in a brown scabbard is a shortsword for self-defense. The blade is beautifully crafted with nary a nick on it, and when drawn she holds it out like a rank amateur imitating a swashbuckler that they saw mock dueling at a harvest festival’s stage play. In a smaller scabbard behind her shortsword is a small curved dagger that has seen more use but is still regularly cleaned. The woman wears no armor, a questionable choice for any trying to survive in Deadwood.
Hidden in a false side of her satchel is an old, leather bound tome filled with ancient arcane secrets written in another language. The words are actually a cipher, and they appear to shift and move when the pages are open. A few of the pages are splotched with reddish-brown stains. Also inside of the secret compartment is a dark iron insignia of a torch with a spiral of smoke wrapped around it. This is Hazel’s badge that once showed she was a Magistrate of the Ember Makers, the title given to their high-ranking witch hunters. There are perhaps a dozen other similar looking badges mixed in with her own, soiled with ash and rust.
GOAL ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I thought I had it all figured out. Now all I am certain of is how little I truly know."
Repentance, knowledge, and security, in that order. She believes that she can find all of those things by helping the Queen and achieving residence in Exusia. A former witch hunter, Hazel has shedded her extremist beliefs after acquiring a mystical tome. She knows she can never undo the suffering that she has caused, but perhaps she can achieve some sort of karmic balance by doing something constructive. However, to ease the path to redemption she’d like to learn more about her spellbook and find a way to detour the hunters on her tracks.
PERSONALITY ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I do not want forgiveness. I do not want a status. I only want to help. Why is that so impossible to believe?"
Hazel acts matronly, quick to lend a hand or offer an ear, hesitant to judge, and respectful to even the most repulsive of people. She views her past self as a vile monster that was cold, calculating, and quick to suspicion. She is trying her hardest to behave differently, falling into the role of a friendly but quiet caretaker. Hazel displays altruism and generosity where she can, traits that she somehow managed to survive with despite the harshness of reality. Hazel is an abomination amongst the defeated faces, cold shoulders, and broken spirits of the denizens of Deadwood, a naive woman who still believes in goodness and righteousness despite the obvious signs that such things are nothing more than a flight of fantasy.
Under her kind, unbroken exterior is a creature driven by little more than sorrow. While she doesn’t deny what she once was, thoughts of the past still tear at her heart. She rather keep the sadness to herself than be a burden on others who already have it so hard. There have been times where people travelling with Hazel have noticed her staring without blinking into fire or piles of ash for minutes, practically unresponsive, like her soul was ripped out of her body. She will be politely dismissive if questions about it are brought up about it later, uttering an excuse about just being tired.
It doesn’t take long for people who work alongside Hazel to realize that she is a deeply curious individual. While respectful of a person’s privacy, Hazel tries to learn as much as she can about different cultures and locales, always jotting down notes in her journal at the end of the day. Likewise, she’s the kind of person who checks out the strange noise at night instead of hunkering down in her bed, fearlessly walking into potential danger as if nothing could possibly harm her.
Hazel doesn't tell her story often, for it is a long and harrowing one, and all the world really needs to know is that she is no longer the monster she appeared to be. Still, she is not the kind of person that is so cowardly that they refuse to face their shade. She will spin the yarn while seated across the campfire if properly encouraged, be it by the urging of companions or the pulling of a lingering sorrow. It begins like all tales from Deadwood begin—with hope, death, and misery.
Her home was a small but strong community centered around a winery, governed and ran by her family and nestled in the valley next to Mt. Cassor. The von Brandts grew grapes in the fertile soil next to the mountain, yearly sacrificing a portion of their crops to the crater atop the smoking mountain to appease the beast they believed laid inside. When she was thirteen Hazel, whose father was on a business venture, joined her mother with their guards on the trek up the mountain to learn how to perform the sacrifice. The mountain rumbled and spewed forth smoke as Hazel approached the precipice to toss the fruit into the crater, slipping as it shook and tumbling over the edge. She was able to grab an outlet and once the rumbling stopped her screaming was heard and the guards lowered a rope. The sacrifice was finished without any further excitement and a shaking, terrified Hazel descended the mountain.
After the incident Hazel began to notice her mother acting differently. The woman had always been austere to the servants but had been kind to her own daughter, but now Hazel caught her own mother staring at her with suspicion, treating her like an outsider, and muttering under her breath. A year crept by at a glacier’s pace as Hazel found herself being followed by servants, discovered strange minerals and herbs in her meals, and found burnt effigies under her bed. A strange, older man named Augustine arrived at their homestead with a letter. The letter was written by her father, who said he would still be away for months to come and that Augustine had been hired to tutor Hazel, which he did. Yet he also probed her with strange, terrifying questions about herself and her parents that kept her up at night.
The tension that had been building for the past year erupted during the next trip up to the mountain. Hazel did not want to go, but her mother insisted. Augustine offered to accompany the women, but he was declined by Hazel’s mother—outsiders couldn’t take part in the sacrifice lest they irk the mountain. Struggling to hold the basket steady, Hazel approached the edge of the crater yet again. As it started to rumble she heard a shout come from behind her and she dropped the basket, grapes spilling into the crater as she turned to witness her mother, dagger drawn and hate in her eyes, crumple to the ground with a crossbow bolt in her chest.
Hazel watched in a numb daze as Augustine appeared on the summit and struck down the guards before they could even draw their steel. He then grabbed the petrified girl and descended the mountain. Hazel regained control of herself and attempted to struggle, but Augustine easily overpowered the girl. Her struggling stopped when she realized he would’ve harmed her already if that had been his intentions. As Hazel was loaded onto a wagon and driven away from the volcano that had begun to erupt, lava flowing down to destroy the small village, Augustine revealed himself to be a Magistrate of the Ember Makers, a hunter of witches—witches like her mother and father.
He explained everything to her. He told her that her parents ritually sacrificed people to the volcano to protect the regain and help grow their crops, that numerous girls had disappeared from neighboring villages, how her father had kidnapped them, and how her mother sacrificed them to the mountain. He had been tasked by the Ember Makers to completely purge the town, who all had been complicit with the ritual, but through his questioning had come to believe that Hazel was an innocent. As black ash darkened the horizon behind them, Augustine offered to continue Hazel’s tutelage—not as a student, but as a hunter. What was her other choice? Try to survive alone in the wilds of Deadwood when she used to have a lady help her get dressed in the morning?
Hazel accepted Augustine’s offer, and their training began. For years she served as his apprentice, faithfully at his side as he went from town to town drumming up support for witch hunts and setting the torch to husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. Hazel learned to hate witches. She saw how the presence of even one could spread poison through an entire community and turn neighbors against one another. Much to her surprise, she also began to enjoy the thrill of the hunt, the game of cat and mouse, the rush brought upon by the feeling of kill or be killed.
When Augustine died, his insides forced out by a few arcane words and a couple lines of chalk, Hazel didn’t even shed a single tear. The man who had killed her family and left her village to burn and the surrogate father who had raised her to become just as awful as he had clearly succeeded in his training. She picked up right where he left off, a bloodhound sniffing after the arcane, spreading fervor and fear wherever she went and ripping out the cancerous growths that were choking the stagnating societies that were struggling just to survive. She saw herself as a legendary hero, a knight errant, a champion of justice righting the wrongs in this world with a torch in one hand and the other waving on an angry mob.
And then came what would ultimately be her last hunt. It had turned sour once Hazel had realized some of the locals had banded together to protect a suspected witch, likely enthralled by her magic. So powerful was the spell that the only solution was to purge the village, level it completely like the lava from a flowing volcano and letting something better grow from the ashes. With a band of hired mercenaries by her side, Hazel led the wholesale slaughter of the town, sparing none, burning all. The town fought back valiantly. It was a bloodbath for both sides. Hazel pressed on even when the witch’s brother speared her through the ribs and just under her heart seconds before she drove her sword through his.
When she made it to where the witch was hiding she could barely walk and barely see, blood, smoke, and sweat mixing in her eyes. She saw the witch, a young girl perhaps in her late teens, not much older then when she had started traveling with Augustine, reach out towards her as Hazel’s world went black, the loss of blood finally getting to her. When Hazel awoke she saw the witch over her, spell book open, lips muttering. A warmth surged through her body and gave Hazel the strength needed to jam her sword through the girl’s belly. Hazel swears she saw the girl smile as the witch died, her tome falling open on the ground, the spell to heal Hazel having been barely finished.
The act of mercy towards an enemy shook Hazel deeply, and the vibrations broke Hazel free of the mold created by Augustine and the Ember Makers’ indoctrination. She grabbed the woman’s tome and took off before the remaining mercenaries could find her. Her mind raced as it saw the past witches she had hunted in a new light. If this woman had only been a healer, then what of the others? She began seeing inconsistencies in her past investigations, explanations she hand-waved, and vile actions she justified all for the fervor of the hunt.
Augustine had always repeated the motto of the Ember Makers to her: Seek out Evil. Destroy the Source. End the Suffering. They had been her mantra, but now she couldn’t remember a single time where a community had called for her to lead a witch hunt. She had always been the one to arrive in the town and declare one, as Augustine had done before her, and as she was certain the other Ember Makers did elsewhere. Before her arrival the communities had been fine, but upon her departure they were shattered, unlikely to ever regain a sense of normalcy. Hazel felt sick. End the suffering? Destroy the source? She might as well toss herself from a cliff then, because the only thing consistent in all of these awful witch hunts had been her leading the push.
She was there on the edge when she felt the book burn in her hand. Hazel looked down at it, flipping through the pages, and watched as the cipher danced and shifted. She landed on the page with the girl’s bloodstained on it, the last spell the woman had ever cast. Amazingly, she could understand some of the text. Hazel sat down on the ledge, her feet kicking the stone cliff as her finger drew and redrew the arcane symbol in the dirt. She must’ve been there for hours before the sigil finally glowed, fizzled, and died. She couldn’t reproduce it again, but it didn’t matter. Her curiosity was piqued. She couldn't bring back the people she'd massacred or the towns she had destroyed, but she could show others the kindness the nameless witch had shown her. She just needed to learn how.
Hazel stepped away from the ledge. She abandoned the Ember Makers and began wandering to discover how to become the kind of person who could heal a monster that was trying to kill them. It didn’t take her long to realize that the other Ember Makers were after her. She was excommunicated from the order, branded a heretic, and slander was spread denying she’d ever been a Magistrate in the first place. Augustine was eradicated from Ember Maker history, his pages ripped out of their documents to remove all of Hazel’s ties from the fanatical order. It bothered her little. She wanted nothing to do with the bastards.
However, their chase meant she couldn’t stay in one place too long without fear of unleashing another witch hunt in a town she had resided. For the past two years Hazel has been on the move, helping travelers and studying her tome all while avoiding her former order. Hazel jumped at the call when she saw the Queen of Exusia’s plea for adventurers. It would be impossible for the Ember Makers to follow her there, and if she was able to live in Exusia then Hazel could get proper training on the spells in her book. She could finally achieve her goal. End the suffering? That was impossible, crazy even. But balance it? Perhaps that too was impossible, but she still had to try.
