When the walls beckon - Interest check

How do you fight something that can't die?
~Unkown

“I was sitting in a tavern when the messenger burst into the bar.    We were foolish that evening, my guardsmen and I.  Some of us had just taken out a small group of bandits and we had decided to celebrate the victory with a pint or to.  We were well on our way to our drunken stupor when the young lad burst onto the scene.  Mud had already caked the bottom of his legs, and a few  cuts and bruises.  A look of exhaustion pained his face and he braced himself against the door frame; how weak he looked.  Somehow, through the crowds of people and loud noises his message was heard by all.

“Our Great King Amar is dead, his army slaughtered.  A horde of unknown creatures pours out of the canyon in the far west and marches unopposed here.”

“Silence quickly fell upon the crowds, all stunned what this young boy had just said.  We all took a quick look at each other before we rushed out, heading first to the armory then to the walls.  We numbered only five hundred hundred men strong, five hundred hundred men left to defend a city of many.  I, as this great cities Watch Capitan, quickly issued orders to my men, sending fifty of my youngest and most inexperienced guards to escort the civilians out of the town through the mountain path in the east.

But for me and my men, we stayed behind.  We needed this unknown enemies to focus his attention on us, and allow our civilians to escape.  We thought our walls were strong enough to hold for a night and a day, two if lucky.  We thought we could hold our own against this unknown enemy.  But as the forms of the enemy came in view, and their features made known, we learned our situation to be hopeless.  Spread out in front of us for as far as the eye could see was a sea of monsters.  Many were small, broken at the back and ugly in the face.  Their body seemed to be partially bent at their back, forcing them to run and walk with the assistance of their free arm.  Their faces were shrived like a prune, and their hair more thin and coarse than any old or sick man I have ever seen.  Some were larger, and carried a shield and long sword.  Their form most resembled our soldiers, yet their faces made them distinct.  Massive tusks jut from under their dark helmets, and their corpse like hair made me cringe with fear.  Our walls held for an hour before they were breached, and the flood of those unholy creatures flowed into our city.  We tried to fight them in the streets only to be washed away; like we were not there to start with.

At day break, only me and four of my men had escaped the bloodshed.  Upon the nearby hill we looked down at the monsters below.  Burning every house they could get a torch on, and murdering those  stragglers who had fallen behind or refused to leave.  

Our city, Talamor, was once the crown jewel of the west; a thing we were all proud of.  Now all that remains is a bloodied and burnt out corpse of a once great center of wealth.  We fought our way out of the area; through scared and scattered bandits and the vanguard of that dark army; only to learn our city was the first of many.  Feer la Den fell later that month and her famous guardians, the Knights of the Light, massacred.  Then the Elves of Galadhon were driven from their ancestral homeland.  Indeed, only the Dwarves and their strongholds deep in the mountains have been spared, but reports indicate that they themselves face a great evil lurking in the depths.

And here we sit, in this dim lit tavern just down the road from the Great divide and the Sky bridge that crosses it.  The enemy approaches this gateway to the east, and we are ready to stand tall against the darkness.  We will hold this castle for as long as we can, and allow the great castle across the bridge time to ready it's defenses.  But we will not just bide time for them to live, we shall hold and we shall be victorious!”

A speech by Knight – Commander Lord Bali, commander of the garrison at the Castle First Reach, gate way to the bridge and to the east.  He and his men have lasted one week against all odds.  The enemy makes ready for their final push, will he and his men hold?

What is history?

The land of Dalan has a history shrouded as much so secrecy as blood.  Books are filled with stories of great warriors leading massive armies to victory against the forces of darkness in battle.  Demons and their kind have always tried to find ways to pry their way into the realm of mortals, be it through the use of a desperate mages desperation through power or through a weakness in the barrier that separates our realms.  Often, these hero's arise when an Elder Demon arises; and together with the people of the land thrust a sword deep into their black hearts and end the conflict.

But the land of Dalan has found itself faced with an even more sinister threat, and no hero nor army to face it.  The God of the Dead, Alun, along with a horde of soldiers so massive it is considered numberless has invaded the realm in an apparent bid to grab power.  With conventional means of stopping them useless, and the other gods silent, rumors have spread about his plans.  All arrows point to one thing; the God of Death plans to create his own kingdom here in Dalan.  

Our story starts with us; soldiers of that ill fated defense at the gateway to the east running from the burning remains of a once great castle.  We must not only trek our way across the half long Sky bridge to the relative safety across the way.  The greatest castle in all the land beckons you to defend her, Castle Solvano calls for your sword.  Will you be the hero we need?  Will you help the hero even if it is not you?  Or will your choices lead to the death of our land at the hands of the God who preaches it?

What are our example races?

Firen

The most numerous of the humans, the Firen pride themselves on their ability to talk their way out of any conflict while being able to back up any words with action.  They are different in most physical traits, yet they all are equal under their devotion to the God's as well as their King.  Before the God of the Dead began to walk this plane, they also had the largest army available to any race but have found their core depleted after numerous failed battles.  The first lost came when King Amar, followed weeks later by the loss of The Guardians of the Light when Feer la Den fell.  Combine this with the many more losses suffered in the coming months has left this faithful population shaken and broken.

Glamhoth

The humans of the north are called Glamhoth, and they pride themselves on battle and raids.  They are a barbaric race of men who fight, eat, drink and make love to pass the time.  They value little of outsiders, and their strict religious code allows them to kill those who believe in the new gods.  But this is not to say that they are without kindness, or without understanding.  Far from it, among their kin they appear to be a friendly and generous race.  With each sharing what they have to those in need, and each celebrating the life and death  of their friends with drinks and boastful tales of their exploits in battle.  Even though they view outsiders with a cautious, and often aggressive eye, they treat every last one of their kin with an air of respect and kindness.

Lavas

The Lavas folk are the most prosperous of all the human races.  They are the master shipbuilders, sailors and traders that claim home to most of the south coast, and many islands that dot the sea off the coast.  Their ships are fast, and their soldiers well trained in the art of naval warfare.  They are a greedy people, often compared to the likes of Dwarves, valuing  coin and the parties to any other need.  For with coin they can buy food, and at these parties they can gain favor.  Indeed, to an outsider they are one of the most judgmental people in all the lands.  They like to play what is called the Grand Game, where people's life and fortune are put on the line in a test of wit and charisma.  Grand Cleric Orion said it best when he said “I'd rather deal with an angry Glamhoth than a friendly Iavas noble, for at least the Glamhoth will see reason!”

Lebethron

The Elves of the eastern woods are know as the Lebethron, a race of Elves who claim on the woods have stretched back for as long as history has.  Many times have both Humans and Dwarves attempted to lay claim to these woods, for the tree's are strong and the land plentiful, but each and any time an army invaded they were driven back by a fury of arrows from the tree top's, from their rear, and front the front.  The Lebethron are a very long lived people, with most reaching around several hundred years old with some even reaching a thousand years.  As such, they are the keepers of both history and tradition.  

Mûl 
The Mûl are the Elves who left their ancestral homeland and tried to find a life elsewhere.  By customs, any Lebethron who is exiled or leaves without permission becomes a Mûl.  More often then not they become one or two things outside their homeland; either they become a sell sword and fight for others or they are captured and forced into servitude for many of the other races.  They are more aggressive than their Lebethron brothers, but also more cunning.  They are forced, often from an early age to steal and murder.  They make perfect assassins and thief's thanks to their light feet and quick hands.  

The Half-elf's often fall into this race.  

Andrann

The Andrann Elves of the forest and the fortress that bears the same name, Galadhon, are some of the most powerful mages in all of Dalan.  The Lebethron hold great fear over magic and it's uses, and often mistreat those who present themselves as such.  It was only natural, that three hundred years ago, the Great migration occurred.  Angry at being abused by their brothers, five hundred mages and their families moved west and found the abandoned stronghold of Galadhon and claimed it as their own.  They rebuilt it, and made the walls stronger with magic.   The humans of the area have tried to reclaim this great fortress many times but are driven away at each turn.  Their foot soldiers boast light armor fusedwith magic, their swords enchanted with fire and ice, and with more mages than any army the firestorms that they can bring wipe any doubt of their power.  

Though they have been forced into a long retreat, their army and people still stand strong.  They have the most numerous forms of battlemages around, with the most valuable being the Elemental Archer; who brings exploding fire arrows and ice shots that render you frozen.

Dwarven races

Anfangrim

The Anfangrim are a rather large tribe of Dwarves who claim hold over the great Iron Bottom Mountains in the south and the south east and all the fortresses within them.  They are a stout and proud people who value gold, and a good story.  They spent their days fighting or mining, and spend their nights drinking to tales of Dragon Slayers and other great hero's.  Their fortune is only surpassed by those of the Iavas people, and only because their ships carry the Anfagn trade to other parts.  They have a close relation to the Iavas, both understand the power of money.  Yet both will often mock each other in public, as the Anfagn people value combat while the Iavas loves the game.

Hadhodrim

The Hadhodrim are the Dwarves of of the Middle Range, stretching from the south, all the way into the north.  They are not as wealthy as those of the Anfagn, yet they are much better warriors.  They pride themselves on their craftsmanship; often being the top of the line from swords to plate-mail.  They often fight the Glamhoth in the north over the limited resources, yet they keep a close relationship with those barbarians.  Often fighting in the morning, and if the fight was not resolved retreating to great halls to fight again; this time with alcohol.  Indeed as time has gone on, less blood has been shed between these two and more ale drunk.

Surface Dwarves

Surface Dwarves are the Dwarves who have, for one reason or another, been forced out of the mountains and banished from ever returning.  The other clans of Dwarves never accept an outsider, so often they are forced into many different criminal enterprises.  From  gangs to murder, to thiveving to assassinations, these Dwarves are often forced to do it all.  Yet this is not the only thing these Surface Dwarves find themselves apart of.  Depending on which clan they hailed from, some will become great warriors, traders or even a bard.  Indeed, they may not be as skilled as others in specific traits, yet they are often the most diverse of all the races.

What is our goal in this RP

Our goal is survival.  We are fighting a losing war against the God of Death, and we must find a way to stop him.  This RP will place a heavy emphasis on your choices.  Make the right one and be rewarded but make a mistake and accept the repercussions of it.  If there are five enemies in front of you armored head to toe with darkened steel armor waiving around massive weapons like they're nothing, it's probably not a good to attack them with just a short sword and a shield, especially alone.  

This is my second attempt at this RP on this site.  Would like to see 5+ people in this story :D
When the walls beckon - Interest check

Nariata The Silent

The Cook A Shireling Hobbit.

Nariata The Silent

mindpalace Inside Your Head
