calmgale — Roleplayer Guild

oh, you're here! that's great! have a seat, assuming you're not already doing so! if you are already doing so...stack a chair on top of your current posterior resting place and have it. bc we gotta get some stuff done, man. like, really done.

 so, lemme take a sec to say something actually meaningful. thanks! so! much! for stopping in! it really means a lot! now, please, bear wit me on this one...bc i've got a lot of explaining to do and stuff to kinda pander and panhandle about. so, before we get to the crazy information i wanna throw at your brainpan...please read this flavor intro! i wanna do something in a high fantasy world with a few traditional aspects and a lot of what i'd go so far as to call 'twists' on the norm! i hope ya dig in and enjoy! as you may see, below the intro is some info. check it and lemme know whatcha wanna throw my way. i know there will be questions, bc i haven't fleshed out EVERYTHING! but i'm down for some discussion and answering those burning riddles gestating in your gourd.

 and doooooooon't worry, i don't type like this all the time ; )

Cers made his way through the Guild Hall with an imperial air, his heavy boots thudding out a soldier's rhythm. Chatter did not cease at his approach, but it did wither to a near hush. Though his Company did not know the truth, the Black Adders suspected that their leader often went to his sanctuary to consort with Demons and draw upon their wisdom and malice. So feared was he, even among his own, that few would gaze long upon him. His armor was jagged and black, nicked and battered with nearly two decades of use...and, truly, most of them had never seen the man without it. Even in the bright light of their hall did he seem to be an umbral steel shadow. 

 He paid the majority little mind, casting brief glances from within his ophidian helm at those he kept closest. Sylvare, the Elven assassin he had come to know first through conflict. Noxys, the True Mage he had taken as a trophy during a raid on the Arcana Demense...and "Knees", the Faithful of Eldra who had come to him willingly, seeking to remain by Noxys' side. Cers valued them...the closest thing he had known to true friends. Sylvare gave him a small smile and brief nod, turning back to the hooded figures that surrounded her without offering a further word. Even if he had smiled in return, the woman could not have known; encased as his face were in the visage of his nameright.

 Instead, he made his way from the main chamber; leaving behind the quieted conversations, curious glances and slight smiles. A heavy door parted for him without so much as a touch, quietly swinging to a close as he passed its threshold. Shadows washed over him in waves, once the lock affixed its self. Cers stood still, for a moment, willing his energy into nearby Runes. They flared to life instantly, casting a blue, flickering light; emulating fire to their fullest extent. 

 This room was not so ornate as the Black Adder Company's hall, but held an incorporeal weight that would make the knees of lesser men shake. In truth, he distantly recalled, he, himself had shaken once the thing had appeared. That thing was what dominated the center of this 'sanctuary' a massive statue...a statue depicting a figure in tattered robes, wearing a mask of bone. At the Dead God's statue were a set of stairs, carved in the likeness of skinless serpents. He drank in the sight, more elated than the man who had entered this room five years ago. All around him, the runetorches flickered violently; a portion of their energy draining into the shadows that lingered heavily at the back of the room. 

 "My lord," he spoke calmly, plainly, his voice deep and rough, even as he observed the coalescence of living shadows, "I have heard your summons." Cers approached, his boots no longer pounding against the floor...here, it seemed, that all was muted...suspended, in some way. A clawed gauntlet touched against the forehead of his helm, and his other hand crossed across his midsection; an acknowledgement and salute, all together. He strode forward at a respectful pace, much as he would expect a king to expect of his subjects and lowered himself to one knee; just before the first skeletal step.

"Every child knows the tale, do they not? The tale of the Heroes."

 His voice was a venomous mist, drifting down in a very much apparent plume of indigo and shadows; the azure torchlight shifted with his ragged rasp and a slight chill arced through the marrow of the man who now knelt before the once-slain God of Chaos and Death. Cers, the Black Adder himself, dared to lift his eyes, again, to gaze into the nebulous pocket of shadows that lingered above him. It traced tendrils down an immaculately crafted representation of Dekruvitomen...the Dead God, touching tenderly on its masked imitation. 

 "Yes, my lord," the Black Adder replied, lowering his eyes, not willing to risk testing his master's patience, "and there are those who remember witnessing the final battle between yourself and-" 

 A cold, grating chuckle made his words stillborn. He could hear the shadows slithering closer, undulating just beyond the limit of his periphery, wrapping themselves around the statue. 

 "It has been but the blink of an eye, Black Adder, yet so much has changed. I am not surprised that this world still bears the scars I willed upon it," the essence of Dekruvitomen seemed contemplative, if Cers could claim to know the thoughts of his vile patron, twisting around the base of the statue and winding its self up to envelop it, "Do the Heroes," that word, as ever, was whispered with a barely restrained malice, "know that they have failed? That despite my sundering, I have come to be once more?"

 The Black Adder opened his mouth, slightly, but held his tongue.

 "The Elves still hold my dear Mother's Heart...and her other pieces have come to be these fragile Deities. How disgusting. I would have you and yours reclaim the pieces of my mask, Cers...the corporeal pieces of my power hidden away or held by those repulsive mortals."

 Cers allowed himself a smile...a feral smirk that left the distant taste of blood lingering in his mouth.

 "As you wish, my lord. I will not fail-"

 The shadows rushed forward all at once, writhing down the stairs and, with surprising force, lifted the Black Adder's eyes to the twisting umbrage that spoke to him. His heart skipped a beat; a sudden fear, colder than ice, invading his veins.

 "I know you will not, dear Black Adder. You have cause to hate the Heroes...nearly so strong as my own," Dekruvitomen chuckled, a sound that rattled Cers' skull, "I will not permit you to fail. You will be my champion...and you will be the herald of my return."

 There was something sinister in the words that Cers did not notice was already manifesting. Acidic, rancid indigo drifted in through the eyes and mouth of his serpent's shell; an arcane electricity coursing through the Black Adder as he stared into the darkness...as he felt it enter him. Pain wracked the Black Adder, as it never had before. Breath had left him, subverted by the words and blessing of his master. His scream was silent and his body convulsed...his vision overtaken by darkness.

Fifteen years prior to the events depicted above, and all those to follow, the Goddess Eldra was Sundered by Dekruvitomen, her shadow. Long had the struggle between Eldra (Compassion and Order) and Dekruvitomen (Chaos and Death) been the subject of legend through the Divided Kingdoms. With Eldra's Sundering...she was no more, at least not in the sense that one could commune with her directly. Left behind were countless corporeal Shards of the Goddess, cast all across the mortal world. Dekruvitomen then assumed the mantle of sole deity. 

 The Nine Heroes rose to defy and eventually defeat Dekruvitomen, Sundering the essence of Chaos and Death as he had, before, Sundered Order and Compassion. It took these Heroes five years to complete their goal. Rising to the status of legends, themselves, the Heroes went their separate ways after Dekruvitomen's defeat...each of them in possession of a fragment of the "Dead God's" mask, that supposedly contained his essence. These fragments were hidden away from the world or kept by their respective Hero.

As something of a rite of passage, before heading to Essia, it is common for fledgling adventurers to visit the Stone of Nine (in a small grove a few miles outside of Oakheim, if'n ya don't recall) to both pay their respects and immerse themselves in the very ideals (whatever those are to the individual) of adventurin'! Fate connives in interesting ways, when the Gods are absent or busy playing at their own devices. It is here, gathered around the Stone that we first view OUR HEROES (that's you. yeah, you! oh! and probably me, too!) as they pay their respects and reflect on the journey yet undertaken. Unbound by familiarity or companionship, these strangers stand with a great distance between them; soon to be united by the machinations of Fate its self.

 Reality is ever attempting to right the wrongs within it, to restore a semblance of balance to the worlds it contains. These strangers are the instruments of Fate, yet to be tuned. With silent steps, a hooded figure arrives and places a pair small offerings at the base of the Stone (as is customary for those who wish to pay respects). A tiny thing, the first, wrapped in nothing but paper; the barest edge revealed. A bone fragment, jagged and yellowed, peering out; wordlessly enticing these gathered strangers to gaze upon it. Beside it a translucent shard, silver mist swirling lazily within. Before these strangers have been placed the beginnings of discord and suffering...but also the essence of hope. 

 The stranger flees as quickly as they had come, giving no glimpse of their face (wonder who that could be...), leaving the choice before the fledglings; already knowing the tune they will play and the chaotic steps that follow their raucous melody.

 Fate, the stranger knows, is a predictable force...

In the last decade, there has been a rather large reform to the way that adventurers and adventuring its self work. Where once those starry-eyed and bold of heart would simply leave home and seek their fortune...the kingdom of Drasil instituted a system to allow for a more organized, less dangerous method of allowing those with a passion for exploration and combat to indulge themselves, benefit their lands and help remove the still lingering taint Dekruvitomen left on the world.

 Guilds, or Companies, are formed by adventurers with a vision. To form a Guild, one must have a Deity. A Deity is spawned from a Shard of Eldra kept close to a mortal being. The process of converting a Shard to a Deity is simple...one must simply imbue the Shard with enough of their vital energy...giving life to a piece of the Goddess. Each Deity is supposedly an aspect of Eldra herself, each unique. However, it is risky for some to nurture a Shard; as the energy required to give the contained Deity a corporeal form can be quite impressive. Deities are necessary to adventurers or mercenaries in that they can augment and improve the abilities of the Guild or Company that they are tied to.

 The Drasilian Vault is a rather idyllic gauntlet for new Companies to test their mettle. With entrances scattered throughout the city (all connected by the vaunted Warp Nexus), the Labyrinth (as it colloquially called) is always within reach...and rarely unpopulated. While the Drasilian Keepers (an official, government funded, Guild devoted to the safety of other adventurers, comprised mostly of merchants, healers, blacksmiths, alchemists and other tradespeople) have certain failsafes in place to prevent the permanent death of adventurers within the Labyrinth, it is not terribly uncommon for novices to face their demise in lower levels of the Vault. While rumors surround the Vault, it is known that the lower levels contain riches beyond measure. However, entry to certain levels of the Labyrinth can be restricted due to the Ranking of a Company. 
 
 Rankings are given based on merit and the completion of certain missions given by the Keepers, but can be increased in a variety of ways. All new Guilds are given the lowest possible Rank; E. There are bi-weekly tournaments held by the Drasilian Monarchy for each category of Guild. Aside from these sanctioned tournaments, there are several events that are given a certain amount of weight towards increasing (or decreasing) a Guild's Rank. 

 While each Guild has an overall Rank, it is possible for individual members to fall above or below that margin. Much as their Company, adventurers may increase their Rank through several different ways; though this often takes a much longer time and yields a more 'tangible' reward for the adventurer. With each increase in Rank, the adventurer is allowed to Commune with their Deity; allowing the Deity to bestow upon them greater abilities. Usually, the Deity is instinctively aware of when an adventurer has earned their advancement. Communion with a Deity requires a spirit Conduit; a tattoo or marking gained upon joining their specific Guild, which is etched onto the adventurer during a brief initiation ritual. The artistry of these tattoos is usually determined by the founder of the Company.

 Despite the fact that most Guilds based in Drasil prefer exploration of the Labyrinth, there are often contracts (assorted by estimated Rank) available, through the Keepers, which send adventurers out for more 'mercenary' styled work; often dealing with a problem on a different part of the continent. Some prefer to make their living this way. Currency in Drasil is rather different from most of the Divided Kingdoms, being simple wooden (lacquered) disks with an etching of a mare (the essian mare, more specifically; their standard) inlaid with copper, silver and gold. The value is rather simplistic to keep track of; fifty copper to a silver, twenty five silver to a gold. Drasil has maintained this system for quite some time, to conserve precious resources.

Those who are touched by Darkness carry with them an eternal burden, a constant conflict in their mind. It is always there, whispering dread thoughts that would usually be suppressed. They are always there, lurking just behind the afflicted's eyes. This 'other' is the Shadow Self...an amalgamation of pain and distress, malice and sorrow. The Shadow Self is many things, but foremost it is a distorted reflection of those that it inhabits. While the Shadow Self is, usually, subverted by those who bear them...there comes a time when they demand indulgence. When the moon is pregnant with light, hanging high in the night sky; her fullness spread across the land, the Shadow Self is released from their heart-prison. A macabre imitation of their host, the Shadow Self is truly more twin than doppleganger; knowing everything about those that they were born from. They are in every respect the equal of the heart they are spawned from, possessing the abilities and knowledge of their progenitor.

 With each full moon, the duel begins. Death to the Shadow Self mean a loss of control...and subversion. For it is never the aim of the Shadow Self to slay their counterpart, but to assume control of their physical form. Defeating the Shadow Self forces it to lie dormant for a time. Being defeated by the Shadow Self allows it to assume control of their former host. What happens thereafter is often tragic and painted in bloodshed. However, subversion is not permanent. One can be shaken from the possession with sufficient applied magical force or bringing their own willpower to bear. More often than not, however, the Shadow Self will begin a rampage; forcing conflict with those around it...forcing former allies to draw their blades and ready their spells.

As in all worlds, Magic is made manifest by willpower. However, there exists a disparity in Magic...which has lead to something of a debate among the more scholarly denizens of the Divided Kingdoms. For so long as mortal recollection stretches to the past, Magic has been an integral part of both society and survival; though its implementation has two distinct variations. 

 True Magic is, in essence, the very heartbeat of Kallore; an immensely powerful reservoir of Eldra's energy, still lingering long after the creation of the world. Though it exists in abundance, the aptitude for using True Magic varies in all individuals...those with high aptitude (some would say attunement) for this form of Magic tend to become Mages (formally referred to as True Mages by the Arcana Demense). True Magic tends to have differing effects on those who wield it...touching their minds in a way that both limits and bolsters their abilities. Some experience a euphoric feeling when reaching out into the vast web...others feel a cold and unempathetic emptiness. The emotional state (often called Throes) tends to determine what a True Mage can do with True Magic. 

Those ill-suited to wield True Magic may still be capable of calling briefly upon the essence to shape a weak spell, or heal a minor wound (on occasion), but find themselves far more taxed than a Mage for doing so...and experience only one form of Throe...giving them a sense of disquiet...as though they were wading into deep, still waters with no true knowledge of swimming. 

 Those with low apititude, but a fascination with Magic tend to gravitate towards the more commonly used form of Magic. Runes, said to be the Words of Eldra (or, by some, surmised to be the language of Gods from long before Kallore and the Divided Kingdoms existed) are used similarly to True Magic...though without the limitations that sometimes afflict True Mages. While Runewielders (other names for such types exist and are often regionally specific) do not experience Throes...they do experience a sort of feedback during the enactment of their will. This feedback is called the Whisper and is supposedly an echo of whatever element they have called upon, manifested as a word or phrase that repeats endlessly in their mind while their Runes are active. Runes may be carved into an object, which is a fairly basic aspect of enchanting, or sewn into garments. Runewielders also commonly trace the shape of their desired Rune in the air during combat, if a projectile is desired. Runes may be etched onto the ground to create traps or protective circles. While Runes are common, finding those who have truly mastered them are rare.

 (As a note, both forms of Magic are based on elements.

  Throes tend to reflect the emotional ideal of the element evoked; for example, True Mages using fire are often infused with vigor and passion when calling upon their Magic. Ice Mages would be emotionally distant, as though their heart were filled with the element. The Elemental Principles that exist are Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Earth, Void and Genesis. Void and Genesis are essentially the Elemental representations of Dekruvitomen and Eldra, respectively; Void holds sway over the ideas of Chaos and Death, being something of a substitution for generalised 'Shadow' Magic, while Genesis is formed from the concepts of Order and Compassion, being a substitute for generalised 'Light' Magic. 

 More examples of Throes can be provided, if anyone is curious. 

  Runes follow the same Elemental Principles, having the same basic set of Elements. Whispers vary from person to person, in strength, speed of the word or phrase and volume. As with Throes, the Whisper often has some connection to the invoked Element. Examples can be provided for the curious.)

The Heroes; Those who weathered the storm brought in the wake of Chaos and Death have been left scarred...but stronger for it. Though most of the true Nine Heroes remain, all of their stories are told in near perpetuity by bards, singers, gossipers, laymen and adventurers. They are a varied group, brought together, once, by their common purpose; now, they are splintered and scattered across the land...guarding their Mask Fragments, living simpler lives or still pursuing the adventures demanded by their restless hearts.

 The Nine Heroes;

 Elise Ethra, The Silver Glint. [Beastkin. Runewielder, Genesis. Living.]

 Tempa, The Firebrand. [Human. True Mage, Flame. Living.]

 Seralle of The Shadowed Countenance. [Elf. True Mage, Myriad. Living]

 Granz Granwald, The Gargantuan. [Beastkin/Human. Berserker. Dead.]
 
 Julian Schultheiss, Opulent Summoner. [Human. Summoner. Dead.]

 Kalayron, The Protector. [Elf. Priest. Living.]

 The Knight of Cracked Mirrors. [???. Knight. ???]

 The Shadow. [???. Ninja. ???]

 Abelene Ayshford, The Iron Prisoner. [Human. Warden. Living]

Drasil has long been the strongest of the Divided Kingdoms, in political influence, armed forces (of both the mundane and magical varieties) and wealth; given that most adventurers found the Drasilian Monarchy far more lenient...and far more generous than other nations. Known as the 'Mother's Kingdom' in ancient texts, long have the blessings of Eldra rained down on the Drasilian peoples. So, too, it was that Dekruvitomen most iresome towards this kingdom and sought to use it as his home on the mortal plane; as such, it was Drasil that bore the brunt of his wrath.

 The capital city, Essia, has been rebuilt within the last five years; towering higher than ever before, situated on the edge of Eldra's Throne (a mountain that stands proudly in the center of Drasil), so spurred by hope, after Dekruvitomen's defeat, were the survivors. Though Eldra is Sundered, there still exist many shrines to her worship throughout the kingdom...and the Deities that protect Guilds are often treated as nobility by those who govern the country (though there are those who lobby that the Deities should be treated as Gods, rather than simply privileged mortals). Situated, but somewhat scattered around Essia are smaller cities.

 While the land has begun to heal, the scars of battle and the Dead God's spite still mar the rolling plains and hills.

  To the south, where Eldra's Throne is but a distant vision, there are several small villages that have risen from the ashes. It was here that most fled when Dekruvitomen appeared, seeking refuge in their sister kingdom of Attenia. After the conflict, those who fled returned to the scorched remains of their home...and found not despair for what they had lost...but a new appreciation for the life they had been granted. As such, these small villages tend to share in both cultures...and have a higher population of Beastkin than the more northern portions of the kingdom. Most folk from the southern portion of Drasil are hardy and fond of their labors, whatever they may be. It is here, in these small hamlets, that dreams of adventure are often born...sending throngs of the young and eager towards Essia to prove themselves. 

 The eastern quarter of Drasil is an amalgamation of forests, rivers and marshes. It is here that Dekruvitomen's darkness still lingers most heavily. The villages here are often wrapped in loving, high walls to defend against frequent Monster incursions and even Volanci war parties. Not uncommon is the sight of Drasilian guard parties, or contracted Guilds patrolling the paths or between the trees; searching for threats or simply making their patrols. Rarely is this part of the country or its people at ease...but here is where most Runewielders (called Crafters, 'round these parts) can find the root of their trade in Drasil. It is from the city of Nemea that most high-quality enchanted items are crafted. Smaller cities are often logging or mining communities. Many caves exist in this area and serve as the lair of Monsters or bandits. Several contracts given by the Keepers will send E or D Ranked Guilds to this area. 

 Western Drasil is noticeably colder than the rest of the kingdom; bearing a demure cast, resembling autumn, even in the tightening grip of summer. The rest of the seasons are similarly cast, with the exception winter clamping its fangs viciously around this portion of Drasil. Often wet with recent rain, or laden heavy with still-falling snow, villages and cities in this area often seem quiet and peaceful...nestled as they are within mountains or in deep valleys. It is here that the Arcana Demense is located. This is where the majority of Drasilian wealth is mined or transported for refining. The most noteworthy city, aside from the veritable fortress of the Arcana Demense, is Hubris. Hubris is a city that extends deep into a range of mountains, and is a relatively new addition to the Drasilian major cities. Forged to spite Dekruvitomen, in conjunction with the Mages, Hubris has several similarities to Essia; in that it hosts tourneys and the cave system beneath it serves as something of a Vault.

Arid and studded with errant rocks, the northern reaches of Drasil is much the withered and near-barren twin of the south. Some fled beyond the northern Drasilian borders to seek solace in the Dreamlands (the vaunted and somewhat mystical home of the Elves) and then returned, after the Nine Heroes' victory. These migrants carried back with them two important things that would allow what was once a burning waste into something that now resembles habitable. The first of these is Elven irrigation techniques, which allow farming in the northern reaches using both natural and Magic skill to gain greater yield from otherwise unsuitable lands. The second is a handful of Elves, themselves; who have, since accomplishing their mission have returned home or made new homes within the Drasilian borders. Sparsely populated and known for its preposterous amount of dangerous wildlife (both natural and Monstrous), those who live in the north are generally reclusive and wary of the very land they've made their home in. It is here that one can find the Dreampass; a gateway, now sealed by a Magic barrier, that at one time allowed passage into the Dreamlands. Its most noteworthy city is Ravaraught "the Silent City", where the very Order of space and time were ravaged by Dekruvitomen's arrival. To travel to the Dreampass, adventurers must first traverse the Silent City; where countless horrors constantly slip between realities.

Humans; The youngest of Kallore's races, gifted with malleable souls. A diverse group, Humans are believed to stand perpetually on the precipice between Order and Chaos; capable of swaying between either on a whim. It is this unpredictability and versatility that have earned Humans a certain degree of distrust among the other races, throughout history. Whether they wield a sword, spell or merely words; Humans are fairly capable in most regards, though physically weaker than Beastkin and less magically inclined than Elves. Humans tend to cluster in great numbers, cutting their homes from places other races would rather avoid. Despite being the youngest, Humans have quickly become the most populous of the races.

 Beastkin; The first children of Eldra, Beastkin are generally known for their prodigious strength of arm and the resilience of their spirits. Known throughout time as nomads, their presence in the Divided Kingdoms is a rather recent event. The Migration (known formally, in most texts, as the "Beastkin Influx",) took place nearly two hundred years ago and lead to a prolonged and rather bloody conflict with the Humans and Elves who inhabited the lands they "invaded". Despite the plague that forced them from their ancestral homelands, the Beastkin, weakened and thrust into war, held their own and eventually managed to create a tentative peace with the Humans...while the Elves withdrew completely from the world. 

 Since the end of the Migration and subsequent battles, (with the fighting officially ending and the Beastkin being given citizenry of the Divided Kingdoms) just under one hundred years prior to Eldra's Sundering, the Beastkin have made themselves rather comfortable in Human civilizations; though some still live in small tribes, honoring their ancient ways.

 Beastkin are thought to be the 'precursor' race to Humans, given that both have glaring similarities in appearance; the difference being that Beastkin possess one or several aspects of the beast that their bloodline resembles. The souls of the Beastkin are attuned to Compassion, giving them a hearty outlook on life and their lot in it. However, Beastkin are not known for being very creative.

Elves; With souls given solely to the ideals of Order, Elves are the younger cousins of the Beastkin and almost completely their opposite. While their bodies are generally weaker than either of the other races, Elves tend to more easily tap into the primal forces of True Magic and embrace their Throes more readily; allowing them to become more potent shapers of the arcane. Elves have long been reclusive and untrusting of the other races...and once ruled where the Divided Kingdoms now stand. 

 It was not war or sickness that drove them from their lands...once they finally did withdraw from the world, it was by the choice of their King and Council; for it is they who hold the Heartshard, the largest piece of Eldra known to exist. While trade and occasional political ventures are made outside the Dreamlands...most Elves that make their home in the Divided Kingdoms are either exiles or adventurers of sorts. They are possessed of incredibly elongated life spans. Generally living around five times longer than that of other races.

 Dwarves; Possessed of the strength of Beastkin, the Magic inclinations of Elves, the infinite possibilities of the Human soul...and the prized creation of Dekruvitomen. They are stocky, staunch and hairy creatures; prone to bouts of insatiable bloodlust and long spells of insane inebriation. It is they who haunt the dreams of lesser mortals...it is they who are the ultimate slayers...it is THEY WHO ARE DESTINED LORD OVER KALLORE WHEN THE LESSER RACES ARE CONSUMED AND DESTROYED! IT IS THEY WHO HAUNT THE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DRIFT THROUGH THE NIGHTMARES OF THE COWARDLY! THEY ARE THE ULTIMATE LIFE FORMS!

 (they also don't exist! so there's that! no, seriously. you read that right. they aren't real. no dwarves. none. ever. they're just short elves. or...like...midgets.)

 Monsters;

 Monsters have always been a problem in the world, albeit one that never seems to fade away. With each Monster slain, another seems to ready its self in whatever nebulous void of divine consciousness dreams up their often horrid forms; prepared to slip into the mortal world. Some surmise that Monsters are a punishment for abusing the remnants of Eldra's energy...some say that Monsters simply are and always will be. None can be certain as to purpose of their existence; save to say that they are the result of willpower exerted and that they, in turn, exert their will upon the world.

 Monstrous creatures come in many varieties and varying strengths. There will be many along your path. However, there are some Monsters that rise above the others, through their willpower...or the amount of blood they have shed; none know why these particular creatures rise to the height of power that they possess. Stronger Monsters possess stronger souls, making them more cunning or ruthless...yet, there have been cases of Monsters that once caused unimaginable carnage, Monsters that once inflicted dread and horror simply disappearing; vanishing before the adventurers who had sought to slay them.

 Monsters are generally mysterious, but given the sheer variety of them that inhabit Kallore...it is practically impossible to tell if they share any true similarities beyond the method of their creation.

 (note from me; monsters is a pretty loose term. so we'll see lots of these things. maybe even some surprising ones. wink wonk wink wonk)

 (mind you! stereotypes are bad! do whatcha want with whatcha want! these are just ideas and terrible, terrible generalizations!)

Name: (this one is obvious!)
Race: (this one too!)
Title: (you can give yourself one, if you're super pretentious or something!)
Age: (like, how old you are and stuff?)
Appearance: (like, a picture is fine...or some words. idc. they're all beautiful to me! include a little run-down of your gear, here, please.)
Personality: (acting up to smack 'em up!)
Abilities: (like, what you're good at and stuff. if a mage of some sort, be it runewielder or true, include the general scope of your abilities and your throe or whisper in this area.)
History: (where ya from? where ya been? whatcha do? doesn't have to be super lengthy.)

 oh, um...uhhhh...since I didn't really tell you much about the world...i'll...go work on that RIGHT NOW! and FYI (for your investigation) the name of the world is Kallore, as stated above and the Divided Kingdoms are; Drasil, Volance, Meita and Attenia. we will be mostly focused on the Drasilian side of things in this...which i am planning to have be CHAPTER ONE!

 i'll also..uh...come up with a title...soon...kinda.

 BACK TO WORK! PLEASE LOVE IT...

 edit; we have an ooc and a (superfluous) character thread. keep posting here if you wanna join up, though. bc that's how i WANNA DO IT, OK?!
calmgale Member

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