Enigmatik

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

@MagusDream

I mean, sometimes giganerds manifest in different ways.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

A not-insignificant amount of Johnny Clegg's songs would work for Malleck's theme.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

Malleck

Malleck 'Freepaw'

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Malleck belongs to the Ainok- a race of humanoid canines indigenous to Alywne's savannahs and deserts, with significant variety between individual specimens. A quick way to irritate almost all of them is to mistake them for Gnolls, their bitter enemies. He's young for most races, at 20, but reached maturity five years prior, and has been travelling with the caravan for three years.

Appearance:
Malleck has dusty fur, blotched with natural camoflague in hues that range from sandy khakis to deep blacks, with a noticable cross pattern that stretches from his muzzle to his nose, the crossbar reaching to the ends of his brows. He has a shaggy plume of hair that's been braided and tied with baubles and other accessories in an attempt to tame it, and bright amber eyes with black sclera. He stands at around 5'5", a normal height for Ainoks, with the typical tight-wound muscle. His fur serves double duty to both cool him in warm environments and warm him in cool ones, meaning he usually eschews more clothing than a simple tunic, covered in straps and bags to help him carry anything he needs on the road.

History & Personality:
The Ainok are a semi-nomadic peoples who live as a periphery ally of the desert's great Dinnin kingdoms. Travelling throughout the dry seasons, Ainok clans, usually made from extended family units settle into temporary pastoral settlements during the wet season to reap the benefits of nature's sudden flourishing. A true-blood Ainok through and through, Malleck has grown up with this cycle- from his time as a pup on his mother's back to an adult of fifteen, expected to be able to hunt and provide for his family.

But, Malleck always sought out more than this. He was born under the light of Otota the dancing star, his paws always itched during the wet season, eager to be on the road again, eating up the dusty miles. He bid farewell to his family when he was sixteen, departing alongside a merchant caravan returning from trade with one of the Great Clans deeper into the desert. Although he had had brief interactions with outsiders before- the Ainok are no strangers to traders, caravaneers, hunters and even the occasional hostile band, this was the first time he had been truly exposed to different cultures and ways of thinking, and he loved it.

He drank in the diversity and the uniqueness, adding their tales sand stories to his own mind, and whenever he could took the opportunity to tell them and retell them at the fire, enhancing his own tales as he did so. It is one thing to have a firm grasp of a single method of storytelling- quite another to begin to understand the universal traits that sapient species use in their myths and legends, and to weave them together.

Soon after the caravan arrived in settled lands however, one of the guards informed him that there was an even better option out there. The Pilgrim's Caravan was, coincidentally, in the same city they were, and with thanks to his previous travelling companions, he joined up, bringing with him his stories, while being always eager to learn more.

Motivation:
Malleck is a classic example of someone filled with wanderlust, and travels both out of a desire to see the world and to imitate the passage the Dancing Star of Otota makes across the skies. He knows not when his wandering will end, or if it even will at all, but is more than happy to stick with the Pilgrim's Caravan for as long as it stops his feet from itching.

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:
As an open and gleeful follower of Otota, Malleck is expected to be able to bring cheer wherever he wanders. to this end, he has immersed himself in the entertaining arts- music, singing, storytelling and dance. He can work his magic with only a willing audience, but any instrument is obviously a boon. A not-insignificant part of his memory is dedicated to the countless tales he's heard and repeated across his pilgrimage, but for all this knowledge, he is undoubtably rather 'book dumb.' Coming from an oral culture, Malleck can neither read nor write, and he has neither inclination nor patience to dedicate himself to learning how to do so. He also cannot swim and easily and violently becomes motion sick, preferring to walk if at all possible over sitting in a caravan or boat.

As with most long time travellers, Malleck can defend himself- after all, he comes from a community of hunters and herdsmen, frequently in conflict, but fighting against other sapients always sat wrong with him. It felt wrong- dirty, almost indivine in a way, and so instead he much prefers to laugh off an insult than to take a swing. For self-defence, he prefers anything that can extend his reach, distance between himself and his foe- be that a spear, stave or simply a sufficiently long and durable stick. When it comes to magic, Malleck's powers are extremely limited- he is neither a shaman nor wizard- although he practices the Ainok's typical astronomical fortune-telling and can produce a few minor illusions, mend a broken rope or help seal a small cut, anything greater than this is beyond his abilities.

Optional: Extra Details

What They Most Want:
They'll figure it out at some point!

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:
Chaotic Good

Three Likes:
The sound of laughter, a well cooked meal, a new story to learn.

Three Dislikes:
Gnolls, betraying his trust, being unable to see the stars at night.

Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:
Heart! Part of the job, honestly.

Worst Fear:
Forgetting

Favorite Color:
All of them!

Most Like The Animal:
'Dog' would be pretty stereotypical, but also wrong. Malleck's more like a songbird of some kind.

Favorite Time of Day:
Deepest night- where the stars shine the clearest, and the fire seems that much brighter.

How They Dress:
As minimally as possible so other peoples aren't offended. He has fur for a reason.

Favorite Season:
The dry season! What do you mean most places don't count a 'wet' and 'dry' season?

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers They Worship (If Any):
The Ainoks of the savannah worship the stars- which come into view so brightly and clearly each night when the sun sets. They believe that these stars are each Gods in their own right, and that those born under the light and influence of various celestial bodies are favoured or disfavoured by these Gods. Born under the light of the so-called 'Dancing Star,' otherwise known as the Goddess Otota. Being both an incredibly bright star, and one that appears to be the most mobile in the night sky Otota holds a special place within the Ainok pantheon as the Goddess of gaity, enjoyment, fertility, pleasure, and so on and so forth. Malleck considers himself a staunch follower of Otota's light, and it is under her auspex that he travels.

Notes/Worldbuilding:

Ainok do not traditionally use last names, as by and large they stay within small familial groups, and even during interactions between groups, misunderstandings are easily avoided. 'Freepaw' is a rough translation of the Ainok term for a wanderer who has willingly left their family, distinguishing Malleck from a banished and disgraced Ainok.

Took me longer than anticipated, but here it is!

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

Jesus I go away for a day and there's six pages of ooc when I return? What in the goddamn?!

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

@Smike

Crusty yeens will be bopped with a large stick should they do anything suspicious.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

I'll finish tweaking Malleck at some point this weekend and get him submitted.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

@Katakuri She can hitch a ride on Malleck’s staff!

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

Always happy to see you around Tort. A basic idea thrown onto a WIP character sheet.

Character Sheet

Malleck

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Malleck belongs to the Ainok- a race of humanoid canines indigenous to Alywne's savannahs and deserts, with significant variety between individual specimens. A quick way to irritate almost all of them is to mistake them for Gnolls, their bitter enemies. He's young for most races, at 20, but reached maturity five years prior, and has been travelling with the caravan for three years.

Appearance:
Malleck has dusty fur, blotched with natural camoflague in hues that range from sandy khakis to deep blacks, with a noticable cross pattern that stretches from his muzzle to his nose, the crossbar reaching to the ends of his brows. He has a shaggy plume of hair that's been braided and tied with baubles and other accessories in an attempt to tame it, and bright amber eyes with black sclera. He stands at around 5'5", a normal height for Ainoks, with the typical tight-wound muscle. His fur serves double duty to both cool him in warm environments and warm him in cool ones, meaning he usually eschews more clothing than a simple tunic, covered in straps and bags to help him carry anything he needs on the road.

History:
As long or short as you like; just try to give us an idea of who they are.

Personality:
Try to think of how it ties into their history, and into the next section:

Motivation:
Malleck is a classic example of someone filled with wanderlust, and travels both out of a desire to see the world and to imitate the passage the Dancing Star of Otota makes across the skies. He knows not when his wandering will end, or if it even will at all, but is more than happy to stick with the Pilgrim's Caravan for as long as it stops his feet from itching.

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:
As an open and gleeful follower of Otota, Malleck is expected to be able to bring cheer wherever he wanders. to this end, he has immersed himself in the entertaining arts- music, singing, storytelling and dance. He can work his magic with only a willing audience, but any instrument is obviously a boon. A not-insignificant part of his memory is dedicated to the countless tales he's heard and repeated across his pilgrimage, but for all this knowledge, he is undoubtably rather 'book dumb.' Coming from an oral culture, Malleck can neither read nor write, and he has neither inclination nor patience to dedicate himself to learning how to do so. He also cannot swim and easily and violently becomes motion sick, preferring to walk if at all possible over sitting in a caravan or boat.

As with most long time travellers, Malleck can defend himself, but considers conflict to be a dirty and undivine action, preferring
to laugh off an insult than to take a swing. For self-defence, he prefers anything that can extend his reach, distance between himself and his foe- be that a spear, stave or simply a sufficiently long and durable stick. When it comes to magic, Malleck's powers are extremely limited- he is neither a shaman nor wizard- although he practices the Ainok's typical astronomical fortune-telling and can produce a few minor illusions, mend a broken rope or help seal a small cut, anything greater than this is beyond his abilities.

Optional: Extra Details

What They Most Want:

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:
Chaotic Good

Three Likes:

Three Dislikes:

Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:
Heart! Part of the job, honestly.

Worst Fear:

Favorite Color:

Most Like The Animal:
That is, which animal they are most like- not which one they like the most.

Favorite Time of Day:

How They Dress:

Favorite Season:

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers They Worship (If Any):
The Ainoks of the savannah worship the stars- which come into view so brightly and clearly each night when the sun sets. They believe that these stars are each Gods in their own right, and that those born under the light and influence of various celestial bodies are favoured or disfavoured by these Gods. Born under the light of the so-called 'Dancing Star,' otherwise known as the Goddess Otota. Being both an incredibly bright star, and one that appears to be the most mobile in the night sky Otota holds a special place within the Ainok pantheon as the Goddess of gaity, enjoyment, fertility, pleasure, and so on and so forth. Malleck considers himself a staunch follower of Otota's light, and it is under her auspex that he travels.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [NEW PLAYERS WELCOME!]

THE GRA WAKES

| A collab between @Irredeemable and @Lady Lascivious |

Boots crunched and business shoes snapped through the halls of the Meeting Place.Four Azulvistan marines, shadowing a stern-looking man. This was not the de-facto spokesperson for the Gran Republic, but instead one of several professional diplomats that had been dispatched to serve as the true arms of the state.

He was unsurprised to find it even more guarded than he. A truly staggering amount of firepower was on display before him, and even his protectors seemed a little intimidated by the showing. Nonetheless, he pressed on, raising a single hand towards them. There was a checkpoint now. That was new.

He approached it formally, drawing out a series of documents from within his business suit. “Rafael Mendoza- official representative of the Gran Republic of Azulvista. I’m here on urgent business.”

A heavily armored Gorgon Strain slithered forward, the heavy weapon cradled in two of her arms with ease while the other two reached out expectantly. “Please present proof of identity, and stand still for scan.”

Proof of identity was happily provided. Inside one of the folders was a detailed document- there had been no agreement on passports or visas between the Republic and Ishtar, and so this was the best they had. Letterheaded with the Azulvistan eagle, it had a full body picture, smaller portrait, and an almost invasive level of detail for full confirmation.

The guard surveyed it for but a moment, cybernetic eyes scanning the documents in rapid succession, before conducting a full body scan of the ambassador for confirmation. Satisfied, she nodded, handing the documents back and moving aside.

Another Ishtari soldier strode forth, Strain indiscernable underneath the armor she - or he - wore. “Please follow me.” He - it was a he then - said, nodding to the Azulvistans, as a squad of similarly armored Ishtari arrived in backup to accompany the group. “Please keep your hands off your arms, any action in contradiction may be interpreted as hostile.”

He lead the group through the station, passing by a small arsenal’s worth of ordnance on the way. The Ishtari embassy of the meeting place was, evidently, prepared for the worst. Where all these weapons had been kept until now was another matter - in the weeks and months prior the entrance had been manned only by two guards in ceremonial uniform, and civilian receptionists. Now it seemed prepared for a full blown siege, and exterior observers would note that its defensive railguns and torpedo bays seemed prepared to open fire on anything that posed a threat.

The Ishtari ambassador waited in her office, fingers neatly steepled at her desk. Scheherazade, the same delegate who had met with the FEU, and with the Chosen during the very first contact, nodded to them. “Ambassador Mendoza. You come at a difficult time.”

Mendoza had taken it in grim-faced. There was little else to do. Azulvista’s protocols were similar, although they wouldn’t quite be escalating to this level of preparedness after their declaration.

Taking a seat before Scheherazade, he removed a datapad from his briefcase and eased himself into position. “I hope to make it significantly less difficult. The Gran Republic has heard the report of the usage of WMDs against civilian targets. This is unacceptable by every metric, and shows New Terra to be rabid dogs in need of putting down. We are going to enter the war.” It wasn’t a request, it was a statement. The Ishtari didn’t need to change any minds.

Scheherazade paused, seeming to need a moment to process the information given to her. “Well, then.” She said after some time, “I am… glad to hear that. We may have had our differences, but against the madness of New Terra, there is only one answer. There can be no negotiation. No compromise against this cancer. Only eradication, swift and uncompromising. We are one on this subject, at least.”

Mendoza adjusted the datapad a little, before placing it on the desk and allowing it to broadcast a small homographic display.

“We can mobilise an initial fleet without compromising the security of Azulvista in less than a month. 50 small vessels, a frigate and 20 heavy vessels. We can also arrange for the mobilisation of 50,000 professional soldiers in a similar timeframe, along with some 230,000 marines along with a classified but large number of special forces. We want to disrupt them rapidly- a breakthrough assault to establish a beachhead while we finish mobilisation. Take control of their gateway and force them onto defence.”

The agreement was made swiftly. Details could be hashed out between military commanders, but the broad brushstrokes were agreed upon. When Mendoza packed up his documents and his datapad, the question was no longer ‘if,’ it was simply ‘when.’

And the answer to that question would come shortly.

---

Marines strode through the halls of the Meeting Place, escorting Alfonso de Caravajal, dressed to the nines in his finest admiralty wear. The procession took their places surrounding a press podium, the diplomat allowing a few pictures before clearing his throat and beginning.

"The current state of the galaxy has not escaped the notice of the Gran Republic. For too long, we have remained silent on the actions certain nations have seen fit to take. Today, we break that silence."

He fluffed the sheet in front of him, gazing out across the gathered witnesses. "The People's Union of New Terra have unilaterally decided to violate not only the conduct of reasonable and peaceful peoples, but have taken a step further, to heedlessly use the same weapons that doomed our home planet. They are waging a war of destruction and terror against their galactic equals, seemingly under the belief that they are the legitimate inheritors to Earth's legacy, and that none will keep them from assuming their lofty yet destined throne."

"They are unequivocally incorrect in this assumption. They have already sown the seeds of terror and devastation. We stand ready to kill this crop before its insidious roots can spread further. From this day forward, the Gran Republic of Azulvista considers itself in a formal state of conflict with the People's Union, and will persue all methods, both military and diplomatic, to bring their wayward and unwarranted actions to a halt. Thank you."

With that, he departed. Nothing more needed to be said.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [NEW PLAYERS WELCOME!]

Azulvista System

Mt Sajama

The nurse's face was impassive. He set the IV drip in place, then gave a few tugs at the leather straps to make sure they were secured tight. He took up a position in the rear of the small interrogation room, before the door swung open and a well-dressed OSE operative entered the room. He took a seat opposite the prisoner, before smiling genially. "Hello there." He rummaged through an office satchel, before taking out a few small electronic instruments and a notebook.

"¿Who the fuck are you?"

The interrogator glanced up for a brief moment, before clearing his throat. Then, he pressed a small button on the first of his instruments, the screen lighting up. He paused for a moment, shifted its position on the table, nodding to himself.

"Interrogation 11 with Rebel Prisoner."

"Interrogation 11?"

The operative paused for a long moment, then turned towards the prisoner. "I'll explain in just a moment." Another genial smile, then he repeated himeslf. "Interrogation 11 with Rebel Prisoner, 2/9/2/600. Prisoner is restrained and short-term memory blocks applied."

"¿Short term WHAT?"

"Ahem. Let us begin." He finally turned back to the prisoner. "I feel confident in saying this because I have explained it to you before, but each time you forget." He chuckled a little. "Don't worry, if I disliked it, I wouldn't do this job." He clicked the end of his pen once, then began to scribble down a few notes, the sound of the pen on the paper deafeningly loud in the otherwise completely silent room.

"The IVs that my assistant there kindly applied to you are some of our most fantastic pharmaceutical advances yet. We know Earth governmwents were experimenting with chemically induced mind control as far back as the 20th century. Now, what they wanted to do was impossible, as far as we can tell, but what we can do would no doubt impress them immensely. Narcosynthesis." He tapped the end of his pen down a few times.

"A suggestive and pliant state wherin the subject's ability to generate short term memory is suppressed. I'm afraid we've talked to each other before now."

The drugs were starting to take effect now. The prisoner seemed to want to react with horror, but he seemed quite incapable of doing so. The interrogator scribbled down more notes.

"So tell me friend, what's your name?"

---

"Interrogation over. Thank you nurse." The man folded his instruments back into his satchel, and rose from his seat, spine clicking into place. With a brief wave to the nurse, he unlocked the heavy, soundproof door and stepped out into the wider facility. He always found sites like this to be so needlessly imposing. It wasn't as if those imprisoned here would not be sufficiently imposed by the guards and enhanced questioning techniques, now would it?

Still. Somebody had to do it. The people in Mt Sajama were terrorists, traitors and enemies of the state. The gusanos ranted about how they swept people off the street in black vans, but that could hardly be further from the truth. The man only saw the worst of the worst. He gave his watch a brief glance, nodding quietly to himself. He had time enough for lunch and some paperwork before his next appointment.