Welcome to my roleplay idea, 'Of Elves and Men'. Drawing on similar themes from the series, 'A Song of Ice and Fire', this tale will follow our two characters as they embark on a journey. I'm looking for a story rich in character development, various characters and lore, with gritty and mature themes. Read the introduction below, and feel free to hit me up if you're interested. Questions, or anything you'd wish to bring to the tale and setting, are more than welcome. The story will primarily follow our two characters; Raylan Roose, a dishonored Knight, and you, the first of the Elven race to be seen my mankind in centuries. It'll follow the relationship that develops between the two, and as I've said, will be very character development heavy.
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The flames flickered and danced against the still air. Smoke plumed into the sky, corrupting the canvas of white and blue into a sickening display of grey and black. Not a word was spoken amongst them, the people of Carthage, as they stared at the women whose throat let loose a primal howl as her body turned to ash within the fire. The pyre burned into the night, long after her screams ceased and her burnt form faded to nothingness. The last Witch was dead, the flames cleansing her soul of the corruption that had tainted her. No longer would men and women fear what lay in the darkness, and children would finally rest as the sun set. Aeris and all her Holds were finally free of the affliction that can caused so much bloodshed and pain for decades; the Witch-Hunt was over, and peace would finally fall upon the Kingdom.
It’s the seventy-second year of the tenth reign of the Valentia dynasty. After decades of war and rebellion, brought on by the notorious Witch-Hunt which saw men and women pulled from their families and put to the torch, was finally at an end. King Waylon Valentia, the first of his name, cursed decades ago to not father any children by an old hag whom was denied the Kings hospitality, saw that all Witches in the lands were to be burned, leading to an outcry from his people as innocents were accused, and in turn, burnt alive. From the cold, northern Hold of Carthage, to the meadow of the southern Hold of Glenn, all Lords bent to the Kings will in the end, and permitted their suspected citizens to burn. Any and all uprisings were quickly cut at the root, and it seemed that the Kings subjects had no choice but to follow the Kings will.
The last Witch was burnt three years ago. The ‘noble’ Witch Hunters became nothing but glorified soldiers, and the Kingdom fell to peace once more. The King, still maddened by the loss of any child any of his wives bare, has long since lost any love his people had for him, with only fear brought on by his insanity keeping him on the Throne of Man. The people are oppressed and tormented, and the seeds of a revolution are ready to be sowed.
But times of peace are fickle and short; light that mankind tries to keep the darkness back with flickers and fades. An older, long since forgotten danger is soon to return, a sign that the age of man is soon to be gone.
Raylan, once a Knighted Witch-Hunter under the King, travels the Long Road through the Beastmarch, a northern woodland so dense that there are parts mankind has never stepped foot upon. Under the pretense that a lone Witch may still wander those woods, what he finds is far more harrowing and forgotten; the first of the Elves to be seen by man in a millennia. Convinced on bringing her to the insane King to restore his honor, they embark on a journey together that will not only decide that fate of the Kingdom, but of mankind’s rule as a whole. The return of the Elves marks only the beginning, and there is a greater threat lying dormant, a threat of Wings and flames.
A short opening:
Nature had long since reclaimed the ruin, its grasp rooted into the crackled stone of the relic to times gone by. The narrow, dirt-trodden passage that snaked towards the entrance, surrounded on either side by the same dense nature, disappeared into darkness through the caved doorway, the fingers of vines and bed of moss ran tracing inside with it, fading into black. The stars above provided little light through the thick foliage, and only the torch guided their path from the whispers and eyes that watched from the wilderness, surely ready to engulf them were it to fade. Raylan placed one hand upon the aged stone of the ruin, the walls cold to the touch. It had been far too long since another living soul had entered this place, where the wardens of the dead stayed vigilant. All except one living soul who, Gods be good, still lurked the halls of the catacombs that riddled this place. Thrusting his hand into the cracked entrance and into the darkness, the warm glow lit the steep steps that lay before them, the end invisible, only leading to more darkness. If the tales held true, she would be awaiting them within this place, but whether they were prepared for her greeting was another question.
“Thom, leave the horses,” Raylan spoke, his eyes not leaving the abyss that awaited at the bottom of those shadowed stairs. “Let us meet this Witch.”