[OOC] The Curse of the Crown [1 OPEN spot] Page 6
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Jinxer The British One
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
The Captain HE WHO HAS NO ENEMY CAN NOT BE SLAIN
Member
Seen
3 yrs ago
I've got a potential water stone bearer. As far as I can tell no one's pursued the spot yet, so I'll give it a go.
Backstory ended up a bit longer than I expected. But y'know. And, yeah, he's not a native to the Barrens. But maybe we could reconcile that somehow?
Backstory ended up a bit longer than I expected. But y'know. And, yeah, he's not a native to the Barrens. But maybe we could reconcile that somehow?
Name: Karsten Ruman
Age: 36
Kingdom: Trasidion, Princedom of the Misted Rivers
Gemstone: Apo'rithil, the Water Stone
Appearance: Karsten was never truly handsome, never blessed with the rugged good looks so often prescribed to the heroes of epic verse and high myth. He was forgettable, standing some inches short of six feet, his frame not at all imposing. He was almost wiry, really. He could more easily be likened to a furtive, cunning creature of the earth, a ferret or a raccoon, than to a great warrior beast like a lion. He was, quite simply, unimpressive considering the lofty expectations of the stations that had been doled out to him by virtue of his deeds. "I'd thought he'd be taller," or, "He looks like a merchant. Not a 'hero'," were some of the more common gossipy quips he's had to bear the brunt of in recent months. Not that he lets it get to him.
He is gaunt, his features severe. His lips are thin and his eyes are sunken. He looks old, far older than he truly is, his slicked back hair continuing to gray at an alarming rate. It is, perhaps, the stress of the cataclysmic war and its aftermath that he wears so openly. He bore a great weight of duty, of loss, on his back, and only now, as the daunting task of leadership is draped across his shoulders has he truly begun to show it. All of wear and tear has been complemented by a quiet dignity, however, an unmistakable sense of purpose and duty that just seems to radiate from him.
He wears, in perpetuity, a thin sneer. Lips pressed together, and yet drawn back, as if he alone was forever privy to, and beholden to, some joke made in poor taste. Indeed, an expression of mirth, of joy or amusement, was as rare as it was genuine in his case. He did not grin for the sake of others. His frankness, or tactlessness, as some amongst his court call it, is just as apparent in expression as it is in his mannerisms. He appears always impatient, always marginally displeased, and while in many cases he very well may be, it's simply the way in which he presents himself. No offense is intended, usually.
While perhaps not seeming a man given to great fanfare and ostentatiousness he does dress for the station that he now so shakily holds. He is the new Grand Prince of the Kingdom of Trasidion, and to ward off even further skepticism from his new subjects he has embraced the title and the traditions, and has taken up the old Amencurt lion as his symbol. He wears it with a quiet pride, and dresses in the rich, princely blues that mirror the lifeblood arteries of the kingdom. In private he'll often to dress more conservatively, opting for earthy tones and simple garb more akin to his wardrobe in simpler times.
Background: What promise was there in the mediocrity of the life of a ferryman? In a life devoted to moving the riches of the world up and down the great Esuilt River? The songs and stories were so fanciful, the riverman was so romanticized in Trasidion, but the truth of it, at least to Karsten, was so awfully different. Days spent drifting on the current, taking turns at the pole to guide the ferry or the barge. There was no glory in it, only the modest fee exacted of the fat, velvet-swaddled merchants. Or at least this was the attitude with which he first met the life, as an adolescent, under the urging of his ferryman father. A man of simpler wants maybe, a man more able to enjoy life on the winding rivers.
It all perplexed Karsten though. He'd been educated with his father's coin, made literate and given the skills necessary for proper business, thought. What good was moving up and down a river when he could become rich off the river, buying and selling, paying to have things moved? In truth, he found there were many similarities. He had a manifest to consider, he had contracts to consider, he had to keep precious cargo accounted for and safe. But then there was, in fact, the romance of the ferryman life. The stories of the passengers. The stars above. The gentle sloshing of the water. The fishing.
Warm summer days. Balmy summer nights. A lazy paradise, he eventually found. It had seduced him.
How quickly he missed those days, the ones that he had initially resented, when the victory against Armagen became less and less of a certainty for the four allied realms. Wise travellers and heavy, expensive cargo were replaced with knights and their horses and their ragged peasant levies. And then there came less and less of them. The manpower of Tresidion was spent futilely over the course of five brutal years, and soon enough it was bodies he was ferrying. Karsten's father left the barge in his care and returned home two years into the war, old and ill, long overdue for retirement.
Then the bodies stopped coming, the clean orderliness of moving soldiers down the river and bodies back up broke down under the weight of the struggle. It was no longer a battle of territory and power for the four allied realms, but one of existential survival. Fields now stood untended, women fought in the stead of men, and a great tide of refugees clamored for places on the barge, to escape upriver, away from the merciless butchers who fought under the banner of the mad king. Tresidion was all but broken, with a dead Grand Prince and indecisive, fearful nobles looking to save their own demesnes rather than continue the fight.
Karsten Ruman, the sullen ferryman, and others of his trade, came together amidst the chaos and agreed to devoting themselves to a new humanitarian cause. To the movement of the people en masse, to the securing of foodstuffs. They were joined by the bravest and strongest of those they took on board, and the barges came to tangle with encroaching Armagen forces. They had the luxury of knowing the rivers by heart, of knowing the forests and marshes that surrounded them, and they, in their own scrappy way, provided a new line of defense that proved far more frustrating than any Tresidion knights ever could.
Karsten, with his ferry and his trident, became a leader of men, a conductor of ruthless raids on enemy camps and enemy ships sailing in from sea. Soon he seized a dromon, one built to fight Armagen's men but then lost to them. He became a captain, and then there were more victories, more wily guerilla combat that led to the seizing of more ships. And soon Karsten found he'd become an admiral. The dreaded mad king's men had found themselves overextended, and their offensive buckled.
A great, ragged fleet of ships great and small emerged from the Esuilt Delta. The traditional lifeline of the kingdom had been reclaimed, and fighting spread again to the rest of the realm, now in the opposite direction. The tide had gone in, and now it had gone out. Where the princes and dukes of Tresidion had failed, a humble ferryman had succeeded, like a Misty Rivers childrens' rhyme. The irony was not lost on Karsten, but he was humble in his victories. He fought to win. He didn't fight for himself. For gold or glory. He had a vendetta.
And this vendetta took him out across the gulf between the realm of the Misty Rivers and the Barrens, a people united again, with what remained of the Tresidion Navy joining them. It was an armada, an ugly one composed of ships of all shapes and sizes, but perhaps the largest one presently assembled. They took to the harbors of King Amragen and set what ships were at anchor ablaze. His admirals and captains had expected the people of the Misty Rivers to continue the fight at home, to struggle against the still sizeable hosts that occupied their cities.
And so Karsten's fleet asserted itself as the deadliest force on the high seas, and Amragen's soldiers suffered for it, now forced to rely on the lands they occupied for provisions. The very lands they had sabotaged and poisoned. Many hosts withered away without the support of their homeland, and Tresidion was slowly reclaimed through methodical encircling and destroying of the invading forces. And yet, it was a pyrrhic victory. There was no chance of the people of the Misty Rivers being able to launch forays into the Barrens themselves, and any coordination with the other realms had long since broken down.
And so they waited. And news of the mad king's death came to them.
And finally they rested. And rejoiced.
Tresidion had no master, but those soldiers who still lived had found more to admire in Karsten Ruman than in the nobles who had sent them to join him in his final push. And so, when the Prince of the Barrens, a man who was by all accounts sane, sent for a delegate to discuss peace and the future of the five kingdoms the unanimous call from those who fought for the Misty Rivers was for Karsten. He should speak for them. And so he went, and he did. An arrangement was quickly found. Karsten returned home with Apo'rithil pulsing in his hand, a reluctant 'knight' and a Grand Prince.
The story he told back home was very different. The Barrens had surrendered, he said, he made no mention of his knighting. He swiftly cemented his position as the only logical choice of monarch for the people of the Misty Rivers. He did not lust for power, he told himself. He just didn't trust anyone else with the job at this point.
Weeks had passed. Busy ones. Rebuilding began in earnest. People settled down and repopulated desolate cities and townships, and the Grand Prince sailed north a second time, now along the river that greened the Nazaerth Desert's western edge. He had only a small contingent of handpicked men, those he knew he could trust, no matter what Edgar had in store for him.
Personality: There may have been a time where Karsten Ruman was quick to laugh and joke, always ready with a tall tale or a rousing song for the campfire, but there are precious few now who remember it, and even fewer who still stand with the man following his ascent to the misted throne of Tresidion. The Grand Prince Karsten is a taciturn man, one who appears to solely occupy himself with the business of ruling. There is no malice in him though, none for his own people at least. In truth, his heart aches for them, he worries over them night and day, poring over correspondences and plans for the future by candlelight well after the sun has set. The flinty facade he presents is one born of a recognition of the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, who are dead or maimed or without food and shelter. All those whose welfare is now his responsibility and who can not be consoled by any measure of ancient magic. What good is twisting water and ice and rime to one's will when Tresidion remains poisoned and its people continue to suffer?
Fighting Skills: In days past, when the war still raged, Karsten Ruman fought with the trident, the traditional weapon of the people of the Tresidion coast. He speared the soldiers of Armagen just as any simple fisherman speared his catch, with an exacting precision and an unnerving patience that went beyond the brawling and struggling of common soldiering. There was technique in the way he fought, refined technique, which few on either side of the War on the River could match.
He still carries a trident, though now as a scepter of office rather than as an implement of war, but the skill he developed on the battlefield has not left him. He's no stranger to any manner of polearm, and has found another niche for himself in pursuing the graceful, ruthless art of Tresidion fencing. To that end carries a slender, straight blade of perhaps two and a half feet, one which he can wield with a slippery agility that more than compensates for his small frame.
Karsten wears the mysterious stone Apo'rithil upon his ring finger, letting it shine openly with the ebb and flow of otherworldly power. It has become just as much of a symbol of his power as his trident, and though he wields its powers sparingly for fear of the truth of what it power it may wield over him it has done much to restore some degree of order and prosperity to the Misty Rivers.
Age: 36
Kingdom: Trasidion, Princedom of the Misted Rivers
Gemstone: Apo'rithil, the Water Stone
Appearance: Karsten was never truly handsome, never blessed with the rugged good looks so often prescribed to the heroes of epic verse and high myth. He was forgettable, standing some inches short of six feet, his frame not at all imposing. He was almost wiry, really. He could more easily be likened to a furtive, cunning creature of the earth, a ferret or a raccoon, than to a great warrior beast like a lion. He was, quite simply, unimpressive considering the lofty expectations of the stations that had been doled out to him by virtue of his deeds. "I'd thought he'd be taller," or, "He looks like a merchant. Not a 'hero'," were some of the more common gossipy quips he's had to bear the brunt of in recent months. Not that he lets it get to him.
He is gaunt, his features severe. His lips are thin and his eyes are sunken. He looks old, far older than he truly is, his slicked back hair continuing to gray at an alarming rate. It is, perhaps, the stress of the cataclysmic war and its aftermath that he wears so openly. He bore a great weight of duty, of loss, on his back, and only now, as the daunting task of leadership is draped across his shoulders has he truly begun to show it. All of wear and tear has been complemented by a quiet dignity, however, an unmistakable sense of purpose and duty that just seems to radiate from him.
He wears, in perpetuity, a thin sneer. Lips pressed together, and yet drawn back, as if he alone was forever privy to, and beholden to, some joke made in poor taste. Indeed, an expression of mirth, of joy or amusement, was as rare as it was genuine in his case. He did not grin for the sake of others. His frankness, or tactlessness, as some amongst his court call it, is just as apparent in expression as it is in his mannerisms. He appears always impatient, always marginally displeased, and while in many cases he very well may be, it's simply the way in which he presents himself. No offense is intended, usually.
While perhaps not seeming a man given to great fanfare and ostentatiousness he does dress for the station that he now so shakily holds. He is the new Grand Prince of the Kingdom of Trasidion, and to ward off even further skepticism from his new subjects he has embraced the title and the traditions, and has taken up the old Amencurt lion as his symbol. He wears it with a quiet pride, and dresses in the rich, princely blues that mirror the lifeblood arteries of the kingdom. In private he'll often to dress more conservatively, opting for earthy tones and simple garb more akin to his wardrobe in simpler times.
Background: What promise was there in the mediocrity of the life of a ferryman? In a life devoted to moving the riches of the world up and down the great Esuilt River? The songs and stories were so fanciful, the riverman was so romanticized in Trasidion, but the truth of it, at least to Karsten, was so awfully different. Days spent drifting on the current, taking turns at the pole to guide the ferry or the barge. There was no glory in it, only the modest fee exacted of the fat, velvet-swaddled merchants. Or at least this was the attitude with which he first met the life, as an adolescent, under the urging of his ferryman father. A man of simpler wants maybe, a man more able to enjoy life on the winding rivers.
It all perplexed Karsten though. He'd been educated with his father's coin, made literate and given the skills necessary for proper business, thought. What good was moving up and down a river when he could become rich off the river, buying and selling, paying to have things moved? In truth, he found there were many similarities. He had a manifest to consider, he had contracts to consider, he had to keep precious cargo accounted for and safe. But then there was, in fact, the romance of the ferryman life. The stories of the passengers. The stars above. The gentle sloshing of the water. The fishing.
Warm summer days. Balmy summer nights. A lazy paradise, he eventually found. It had seduced him.
How quickly he missed those days, the ones that he had initially resented, when the victory against Armagen became less and less of a certainty for the four allied realms. Wise travellers and heavy, expensive cargo were replaced with knights and their horses and their ragged peasant levies. And then there came less and less of them. The manpower of Tresidion was spent futilely over the course of five brutal years, and soon enough it was bodies he was ferrying. Karsten's father left the barge in his care and returned home two years into the war, old and ill, long overdue for retirement.
Then the bodies stopped coming, the clean orderliness of moving soldiers down the river and bodies back up broke down under the weight of the struggle. It was no longer a battle of territory and power for the four allied realms, but one of existential survival. Fields now stood untended, women fought in the stead of men, and a great tide of refugees clamored for places on the barge, to escape upriver, away from the merciless butchers who fought under the banner of the mad king. Tresidion was all but broken, with a dead Grand Prince and indecisive, fearful nobles looking to save their own demesnes rather than continue the fight.
Karsten Ruman, the sullen ferryman, and others of his trade, came together amidst the chaos and agreed to devoting themselves to a new humanitarian cause. To the movement of the people en masse, to the securing of foodstuffs. They were joined by the bravest and strongest of those they took on board, and the barges came to tangle with encroaching Armagen forces. They had the luxury of knowing the rivers by heart, of knowing the forests and marshes that surrounded them, and they, in their own scrappy way, provided a new line of defense that proved far more frustrating than any Tresidion knights ever could.
Karsten, with his ferry and his trident, became a leader of men, a conductor of ruthless raids on enemy camps and enemy ships sailing in from sea. Soon he seized a dromon, one built to fight Armagen's men but then lost to them. He became a captain, and then there were more victories, more wily guerilla combat that led to the seizing of more ships. And soon Karsten found he'd become an admiral. The dreaded mad king's men had found themselves overextended, and their offensive buckled.
A great, ragged fleet of ships great and small emerged from the Esuilt Delta. The traditional lifeline of the kingdom had been reclaimed, and fighting spread again to the rest of the realm, now in the opposite direction. The tide had gone in, and now it had gone out. Where the princes and dukes of Tresidion had failed, a humble ferryman had succeeded, like a Misty Rivers childrens' rhyme. The irony was not lost on Karsten, but he was humble in his victories. He fought to win. He didn't fight for himself. For gold or glory. He had a vendetta.
And this vendetta took him out across the gulf between the realm of the Misty Rivers and the Barrens, a people united again, with what remained of the Tresidion Navy joining them. It was an armada, an ugly one composed of ships of all shapes and sizes, but perhaps the largest one presently assembled. They took to the harbors of King Amragen and set what ships were at anchor ablaze. His admirals and captains had expected the people of the Misty Rivers to continue the fight at home, to struggle against the still sizeable hosts that occupied their cities.
And so Karsten's fleet asserted itself as the deadliest force on the high seas, and Amragen's soldiers suffered for it, now forced to rely on the lands they occupied for provisions. The very lands they had sabotaged and poisoned. Many hosts withered away without the support of their homeland, and Tresidion was slowly reclaimed through methodical encircling and destroying of the invading forces. And yet, it was a pyrrhic victory. There was no chance of the people of the Misty Rivers being able to launch forays into the Barrens themselves, and any coordination with the other realms had long since broken down.
And so they waited. And news of the mad king's death came to them.
And finally they rested. And rejoiced.
Tresidion had no master, but those soldiers who still lived had found more to admire in Karsten Ruman than in the nobles who had sent them to join him in his final push. And so, when the Prince of the Barrens, a man who was by all accounts sane, sent for a delegate to discuss peace and the future of the five kingdoms the unanimous call from those who fought for the Misty Rivers was for Karsten. He should speak for them. And so he went, and he did. An arrangement was quickly found. Karsten returned home with Apo'rithil pulsing in his hand, a reluctant 'knight' and a Grand Prince.
The story he told back home was very different. The Barrens had surrendered, he said, he made no mention of his knighting. He swiftly cemented his position as the only logical choice of monarch for the people of the Misty Rivers. He did not lust for power, he told himself. He just didn't trust anyone else with the job at this point.
Weeks had passed. Busy ones. Rebuilding began in earnest. People settled down and repopulated desolate cities and townships, and the Grand Prince sailed north a second time, now along the river that greened the Nazaerth Desert's western edge. He had only a small contingent of handpicked men, those he knew he could trust, no matter what Edgar had in store for him.
Personality: There may have been a time where Karsten Ruman was quick to laugh and joke, always ready with a tall tale or a rousing song for the campfire, but there are precious few now who remember it, and even fewer who still stand with the man following his ascent to the misted throne of Tresidion. The Grand Prince Karsten is a taciturn man, one who appears to solely occupy himself with the business of ruling. There is no malice in him though, none for his own people at least. In truth, his heart aches for them, he worries over them night and day, poring over correspondences and plans for the future by candlelight well after the sun has set. The flinty facade he presents is one born of a recognition of the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, who are dead or maimed or without food and shelter. All those whose welfare is now his responsibility and who can not be consoled by any measure of ancient magic. What good is twisting water and ice and rime to one's will when Tresidion remains poisoned and its people continue to suffer?
Fighting Skills: In days past, when the war still raged, Karsten Ruman fought with the trident, the traditional weapon of the people of the Tresidion coast. He speared the soldiers of Armagen just as any simple fisherman speared his catch, with an exacting precision and an unnerving patience that went beyond the brawling and struggling of common soldiering. There was technique in the way he fought, refined technique, which few on either side of the War on the River could match.
He still carries a trident, though now as a scepter of office rather than as an implement of war, but the skill he developed on the battlefield has not left him. He's no stranger to any manner of polearm, and has found another niche for himself in pursuing the graceful, ruthless art of Tresidion fencing. To that end carries a slender, straight blade of perhaps two and a half feet, one which he can wield with a slippery agility that more than compensates for his small frame.
Karsten wears the mysterious stone Apo'rithil upon his ring finger, letting it shine openly with the ebb and flow of otherworldly power. It has become just as much of a symbol of his power as his trident, and though he wields its powers sparingly for fear of the truth of what it power it may wield over him it has done much to restore some degree of order and prosperity to the Misty Rivers.
Liar Aspiring Conqueror of the Known World
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
It's kind of amusing my character is the only girl of the knights.
Nomi Yanimura
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
This sounds pretty fun and I like the story background and plot.
Is that Water Knight position still open? I'll submit my CS if it it ^^
Is that Water Knight position still open? I'll submit my CS if it it ^^
Whoami All things atmospheric...
Member
Seen
16 hrs ago
Applying for the position of the Earth Knight if it is still open. Here's hoping!
39
The Dragon Mountains
Mag'rithil; the Earth Stone
Shae is a calm warrior from the Dragon Mountains who prefers to pass wisdom onto her companions rather than aggression. She has a strategic mind and is often two steps ahead of her opponents. Shae is comradely and desires safety for others above herself, it is this nobility and selflessness that earned Shae her title and reputation. Shae is very maternal and tends to younger individuals, usually giving her money to homeless children. When Shae takes an oath, she sees it through to the end. She took the Earth stone on the oath that it would never leave her while she lived and has carried it for years because of that oath. Shae doesn't abuse the powers of Mag'rithil, she thinks that using it would attract unwanted attention. Only when she is in grave danger or if the situation presents no other options, will she unleash the full potential of Mag'rithil. Shae will spare a life when she can.
Shae was born into a noble family that has many dealings with the royalty of the Dragon Mountains. Her father, one of the King's Dragon Knights, saw it fit that Shae know how to wield a spear and fend for herself. At the age of fourteen, Shae was given her own short spear and a personal trainer. Being the daughter to one of the Dragon Mountains' greatest heroes, she caught on quickly to the art of the short spear. Shae took from her father's style as well as her trainer's and added some of her own into it. The result was a spear wielding style that earned its own name throughout the Dragon Mountains; Shae'talla which meant Shae's Pierce. Shae'talla became a common martial art throughout the Dragon Mountains.
By sixteen, Shae was a well known knight, the youngest of the nation's knightly roster as a matter of fact. She and her friends quested throughout the mountains, taking jobs from villages and local lords. Eventually, Shae's reputation surpassed even that of her father and she was invited to the court so she could be recognized as one of the king's Dragon Knights. Shae accepted and sat next to her father in the war council.
Only months after her promotion into the king's court, King Armagen of the Barren Lands began encroaching on their lands. The armies of the Dragon Mountains held back their new enemy for months until Armagen finally unleashed the power of the stones. Within days, the mountains had been conquered. Nine of the thirteen Dragon Knights were killed during the invasion. Shae, her father, her oldest friend Tokarr and another knight by the name of Cyllis were all that was left of the king's court. The four of them led a resistance against Armagen's occupation force which over the years left just Shae and Tokarr standing.
She didn't mourn over her father's death as much as one usually would. A knights death in the Dragon Mountains was a good death and it meant eternal peace in the next life. Though the pain of her father wasn't great, the fatigue of the war was bringing Shae down. Tokarr, having been a childhood friend of Shae's kept her level. When the ashes had subsided and things eventually seemed to find a new calm, Shae and Tokarr married, had two children and lived quietly in the mountains.
Armagen's invasion had all but destroyed the culture of the Dragon Mountains. There was no longer any Shae'talla or the Court of the Dragon Knights. The new king was just as tyrannical as Armagen. While the prince of the Barren Lands began stabilizing power, the new king of the mountains was enforcing strict laws and hogging what little resources were left after the war. Shae and Tokarr disputed the king, and it led to being exiled by the new king. Outraged, Tokarr struck out at the king, which resulted in his execution.
Shae fought off the guards of the palace and escaped, returning to her home only to find it burnt to the ground, her children nowhere in sight. With nothing left for her in the Dragon Mountains, Shae left to the Barren Lands. Despite the treacherous war between her land and theirs', she had a sort of respect for Prince Edgar. That respect lead her to him, where she pledged her service to him after explaining the circumstances back in the Dragon Mountains.
Her reputation had apparently reached farther than the mountains as she found herself among Edgar's best knights. She was entrusted to Mag'rithil, the Earth Stone. Never one to break an oath, Shae guarded Mag'rithil. The knight studied and practiced with its power. She was fascinated but knew that others would covet the stone, so she kept it hidden from view and never used it unless she absolutely needed to. Her recent summon from the Prince was received by Shae and now she rides to meet with the party despite being far behind.
Shae is a master with the short spear, using not only its blade as the weapon, but the shaft and the blunt end as well. Her fighting style is quick, utilizing rolls, leaps, strafes and feints to expose her enemy. She also possesses keen strategic aptitude and will outsmart her opponent rather than overpower them. While her short spear is her favored weapon, she is a knight and is quite capable with a sword. She wears traditional Dragon Mountain clothing, often sleeveless robes and tunics as well as leather armors. Shae is a competent horseback rider, combined with her spear, she becomes a lightning quick force to be reckoned with.
Shae's power with Mag'rithil is rather unknown as she chooses to not use it. Shae is seen sometimes practicing its power but it isn't known just how much experience she has in wielding the powerful artifact. Rumor has it, Shae has learned to unlocks its greatest secrets and has even formed a canyon somewhere in the world, but any such claims haven't been proven and probably never will be.
As this RP has already started, I will most likely start my first few posts with Shae riding to catch up with everybody. So she doesn't just appear out of nowhere.
EDIT: Also just noticed Kirin'Taq, I sense another Broken Sky enthusiast. This makes me very happy.
EDIT #2: Aaaand I noticed I unintentionally made a carbon copy of another Earth knight. Spears... Strategy... Riding... Kinda good with swords... *facepalm*
Shae Terra
Age
39
Kingdom
The Dragon Mountains
Gemstone
Mag'rithil; the Earth Stone
Personality
Shae is a calm warrior from the Dragon Mountains who prefers to pass wisdom onto her companions rather than aggression. She has a strategic mind and is often two steps ahead of her opponents. Shae is comradely and desires safety for others above herself, it is this nobility and selflessness that earned Shae her title and reputation. Shae is very maternal and tends to younger individuals, usually giving her money to homeless children. When Shae takes an oath, she sees it through to the end. She took the Earth stone on the oath that it would never leave her while she lived and has carried it for years because of that oath. Shae doesn't abuse the powers of Mag'rithil, she thinks that using it would attract unwanted attention. Only when she is in grave danger or if the situation presents no other options, will she unleash the full potential of Mag'rithil. Shae will spare a life when she can.
Background
Shae was born into a noble family that has many dealings with the royalty of the Dragon Mountains. Her father, one of the King's Dragon Knights, saw it fit that Shae know how to wield a spear and fend for herself. At the age of fourteen, Shae was given her own short spear and a personal trainer. Being the daughter to one of the Dragon Mountains' greatest heroes, she caught on quickly to the art of the short spear. Shae took from her father's style as well as her trainer's and added some of her own into it. The result was a spear wielding style that earned its own name throughout the Dragon Mountains; Shae'talla which meant Shae's Pierce. Shae'talla became a common martial art throughout the Dragon Mountains.
By sixteen, Shae was a well known knight, the youngest of the nation's knightly roster as a matter of fact. She and her friends quested throughout the mountains, taking jobs from villages and local lords. Eventually, Shae's reputation surpassed even that of her father and she was invited to the court so she could be recognized as one of the king's Dragon Knights. Shae accepted and sat next to her father in the war council.
Only months after her promotion into the king's court, King Armagen of the Barren Lands began encroaching on their lands. The armies of the Dragon Mountains held back their new enemy for months until Armagen finally unleashed the power of the stones. Within days, the mountains had been conquered. Nine of the thirteen Dragon Knights were killed during the invasion. Shae, her father, her oldest friend Tokarr and another knight by the name of Cyllis were all that was left of the king's court. The four of them led a resistance against Armagen's occupation force which over the years left just Shae and Tokarr standing.
She didn't mourn over her father's death as much as one usually would. A knights death in the Dragon Mountains was a good death and it meant eternal peace in the next life. Though the pain of her father wasn't great, the fatigue of the war was bringing Shae down. Tokarr, having been a childhood friend of Shae's kept her level. When the ashes had subsided and things eventually seemed to find a new calm, Shae and Tokarr married, had two children and lived quietly in the mountains.
Armagen's invasion had all but destroyed the culture of the Dragon Mountains. There was no longer any Shae'talla or the Court of the Dragon Knights. The new king was just as tyrannical as Armagen. While the prince of the Barren Lands began stabilizing power, the new king of the mountains was enforcing strict laws and hogging what little resources were left after the war. Shae and Tokarr disputed the king, and it led to being exiled by the new king. Outraged, Tokarr struck out at the king, which resulted in his execution.
Shae fought off the guards of the palace and escaped, returning to her home only to find it burnt to the ground, her children nowhere in sight. With nothing left for her in the Dragon Mountains, Shae left to the Barren Lands. Despite the treacherous war between her land and theirs', she had a sort of respect for Prince Edgar. That respect lead her to him, where she pledged her service to him after explaining the circumstances back in the Dragon Mountains.
Her reputation had apparently reached farther than the mountains as she found herself among Edgar's best knights. She was entrusted to Mag'rithil, the Earth Stone. Never one to break an oath, Shae guarded Mag'rithil. The knight studied and practiced with its power. She was fascinated but knew that others would covet the stone, so she kept it hidden from view and never used it unless she absolutely needed to. Her recent summon from the Prince was received by Shae and now she rides to meet with the party despite being far behind.
Fighting Skills
Shae is a master with the short spear, using not only its blade as the weapon, but the shaft and the blunt end as well. Her fighting style is quick, utilizing rolls, leaps, strafes and feints to expose her enemy. She also possesses keen strategic aptitude and will outsmart her opponent rather than overpower them. While her short spear is her favored weapon, she is a knight and is quite capable with a sword. She wears traditional Dragon Mountain clothing, often sleeveless robes and tunics as well as leather armors. Shae is a competent horseback rider, combined with her spear, she becomes a lightning quick force to be reckoned with.
Shae's power with Mag'rithil is rather unknown as she chooses to not use it. Shae is seen sometimes practicing its power but it isn't known just how much experience she has in wielding the powerful artifact. Rumor has it, Shae has learned to unlocks its greatest secrets and has even formed a canyon somewhere in the world, but any such claims haven't been proven and probably never will be.
As this RP has already started, I will most likely start my first few posts with Shae riding to catch up with everybody. So she doesn't just appear out of nowhere.
EDIT: Also just noticed Kirin'Taq, I sense another Broken Sky enthusiast. This makes me very happy.
EDIT #2: Aaaand I noticed I unintentionally made a carbon copy of another Earth knight. Spears... Strategy... Riding... Kinda good with swords... *facepalm*
Liar Aspiring Conqueror of the Known World
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6 yrs ago
Sorry, mate. I became Earth Knight. Though it's all up to the GM.
Whoami All things atmospheric...
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16 hrs ago
Sorry, mate. I became Earth Knight. Though it's all up to the GM.
Had seen that right after I posted the CS.
The Captain HE WHO HAS NO ENEMY CAN NOT BE SLAIN
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3 yrs ago
A GM being missing for five days really never bodes well.
Whoami All things atmospheric...
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16 hrs ago
Hmmm... I see. Well, I'll just keep my eyes on the interest checks then until something else catches my eye.
Jinxer The British One
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1 yr ago
@The Captain
I'm handling general OOC running until Mant is back properly but I won't be accepting any CS officially as that's his decision.
I'm handling general OOC running until Mant is back properly but I won't be accepting any CS officially as that's his decision.
RPforthatPR
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9 yrs ago
On what authority are you taking over?
Jinxer The British One
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1 yr ago
@RPforthatPR The authority he and I agreed via PM very near the beginning.
RPforthatPR
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9 yrs ago
RIP.
Jinxer The British One
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1 yr ago
RPforthatPR
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9 yrs ago
Just giving the thread a burial.
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