Yeah sorry, I figured that might be a bit of an issue, but I wanted to the first posts to be more about introducing your character. Make their interactions to the world around them unique. It doesn't necessarily have to be two paragraphs, but give us a sense of why your character is looking to find Dantel. How do they feel about Caracas? About the Bull Pits? Then make them try and scout him out. Remember you're just looking for him right now, no need to chase him down. Maybe your character is particularly perceptive? (in which case you can message me asking what your character might notice)
This preliminary series of posts is just a vehicle for learning to understand your character and their motivations.
BOOM! The ICs are up, and just like with the Owls post I'll be tidying it up every few moments just so it looks neater. You have everything you need for now on either side to get started!
You've found yourself on a manhunt in Caracas, "Canal City". The lingering summer smoke a vial concoction of cigars, sewage, and ineffective perfumes. Even the streets of Caracas seem a dramatic affair as every back alley and road has a constant stream of rose water tickling the bottoms of your boot. Continuing towards your target you notice various banners adorning city walls, and what must be state buildings given the protests that echo around them. The banners are orange in color, and outlined by a gold trim. In the center of the banner is a golden scale; even as a foreigner you'd recognize this as the city-states symbol.
Handmaidens and bards alike spun tales of the romanticism of Caracan city days, but none of that mattered now. You now neared the Caracan Bull Pits, a fanciful and stunningly massive Colosseum rumored to have housed the fearsome Elven dragon 'Deis the Conqueror' during the War of the Splitting Branches. You find your hand tracing the bricks of the structure, it's mystery and grandiosity somehow enticing. Less enticing were the numerous stairwells you were now forced to climb to find yourself a suitable vantage point to find your man.
His name is Dantel Ernesto Amarillo de Caracas; the leader of the Caracas League of Magi. Rumors of his unparalleled knowledge in the arcane was no doubt brought many a hopeful benefactor from a myriad of lands. Given his status a man such as he would be sitting somewhere important. You just had to find where that is. --
You take your seat as you, but as your eyes scan the stadium you hear the sounds of loud grunts and the clanging of swords. It seemed two new combatants, an Orc and a human had already begun their war dance. You found yourself looking onward.
You find yourself entranced by the fluid movement of the two fighters. They were no doubt well-versed in swordplay. One of them, the human, had a bladed whip on his hip. Your experience in battle alerts you to the reality that this man has most certainly claimed many an unfair victory. You extend your body excitedly as you nearly off of the edge of stone beneath you. Now seeing the fight more clearly you realize just how much faster the human is compared to the lumbering Orc. He makes quick strides around his oafish and lethargic opponent. His sword movements are swift and deliberate, but infrequent. You notice his preference for defensive posturing. Less glorious, but effective in a duel to the death. Your interest with this increasingly slow paced fight seems to be waning.
To your horror it seems the Orc and the Human were battling to the death, but what did you expect in the Caracan Bull Pits? Legends told of brutal deaths in the arena, and you wanted little part in it. You found it hard to pull yourself away from the escalating scene below as your sense of empathy for the fighters betrayed you. You take a sigh of relief as it seems that the human's strategy is to tire out the Orc. You wished that they'd just cease this cruelty, but at least there hadn't been much dismemberment yet. Sinking farther into your seat you find yourself growing used to the rancid smells and even worse sounds that permeate the Pits.
To your annoyance, the dueling Orc and Human seemed intent on distracting you from your objective. The clashing of sword against sword was enough to draw your gaze, but you cared little for the mundane barbarity of Caracan brutes. No, you needed to find Dantel before the Pits event ended. You had not come to here for the trivial romp, and you had no desire to slosh through any more of that damned rose water. It seemed that the fighting had settled into a waiting game. Regardless, you found yourself slouching rather lazily in your seat. This stone had to be the most uncomfortable seating you'd ever experienced.
You hear the distant sound of Human tears, and the valiant war cries of a victorious Orc. The poor sod had been hoisted up into the air, impaled by a mighty great sword. Blood showered the Orc who seemed to revel in his glory. The crowds erupted into blissful chaos and from the swell of voices all that you could gather was the name Baenash the Impaler.
Sensing yourself losing focus you re-adjust. You begin to inspect the area looking for any significant differences in seating or vantage point that might identify its occupant as Dantel. He was a apparently a noble; surely that meant something. The crowds of noisy spectators certainly didn't help matters, and you couldn't help but feel an ever-increasing tension looming in the Caracan skies. Was something amiss? Regardless, you needed to find Dantel and the League of Magi.
This is where your story begins. Whatever you may choose, you must find your answers, in the way you see fit.
@Bishop Yessir! You'll be in the 'Characters' tab as a member of the 'Wolves' party. Finishing up the IC now! It's pretty easy to get lost in all of the messages in the OOC don't worry about it.
The fogs of the foreign city of Caracas were enough to choke even the hardiest of Vicelles smokers. The fumes paraded the city streets. The crowds of curious onlookers was almost enough to smother Isobel. The Foreas was foreign to this land, its people, and those who had beckoned her here. The ‘Caracas League of Magi’ was a guild that Isobel had not yet heard of in her travels. Perhaps the allure of Valenndale called to her, or perhaps it was her own curiosity. Unfortunately she did not suspect that such curiosity would lead her here. Legends of the Caracas Pits were nearly as gruesome as the whispers shared about the city itself. Overlooking the arena she saw it’s bloodied circular canvas surrounded by water. Gates on either side of the Colosseum served as an entrance for each combatant.
A lone dark elven warrior, metallic whip in hand, stood against a mighty Dalic Bull. The beast and the elf stood opposite one another; the former quite easily more menacing. It huffed threateningly before charging forward. The elf narily dodged it’s offensive burst. They continued circling each other. It was if nature was still trying to determine which animal was the prey and which the predator.
Thunderous cries from anxious spectators filled the air just as the fog and the summer heat did. Large braziers dotted the outer rim of the stadium, and orange banners emblazoned with a golden scale hung from multiple sections of the structure. There was a thick tension looming over the spectacle. Isobel found herself next to Dantel Ernesto Amarillo de Caracas. He carried an air of sophistication and esotericism about him that was both off-putting and intimidating.
“Enjoying the show, tesoro?” The man’s dark eyes glimmered under the fire of the brazier above them. Dangling from his earlobe was a rather eccentric golden chain. It extended past his jaw and ended at a shimmering topaz jewel. His quick and fluid manner of speaking was common among the Dalic, particularly those in the human city-states. Their exaggerated dialect was what made them ruthless in the art of commerce. His face shifted from one of content to a half-smile as he looked back down at the spectacle before she could answer. Despite the apathy in the gesture it still somehow felt arrogant. Not a hostile arrogance, but a confidence uncommon in most humans that Isobel had observed.
“I suppose not; this is all quite dreary. I trust your journey wasn’t too strenuous Signora?”
Isobel cocked her head to one side as she tried to read the man's intentions, before shrugging, "It's very interesting," she said, turning back toward the spectacle as if mimicking the human. She turned her gaze right in time to see the Dark Elven warrior barely dodge a charge. And though it was difficult to see from so far away with all the smoke and commotion, she noticed it, "Oh! Is the warrior hurt? He's holding his side."
The young mage chuckled softly, the jewelry that decorate his lithe frame rang out in harmony. "My scouts said you were well versed in the healing magic. That's good." Dantel lazily took a sip from the chalice beside him. He swirled the lilac wine in his mouth before spitting it into a bucket that sit at his feet. It was common Caracan tradition to taste expensive wine rather than drink it.
"I won't mince words with you. I've had..friends in Carthus studying your people." Dantel seemed almost coyly oblivious to how intrusive this sounded.
"Huh," Isobel muttered.
"I believe you may be able to help me with a problem," he reached behind grabbing a chalice and a half-empty bottle of wine.He offered it to Isobel, who hesitated for a split moment before grabbing them.
Slowly and carefully, she poured herself a small quantity of the wine. A tentative sniff of the liquid had Isobel wincing and pulling away almost instinctively. Foreas usually only drank water or their own cultural beverages, so Isobel had had a very tough time getting used to wine and mead.
Dantel hadn't spent much time thinking on how the women sustained herself. He reclined a bit giving one more smile.
"I've been working as the representative of the League of Magi here in Caracas. That title comes with certain...responsibilities." It was as if Dantel could hardly keep himself from bragging, which made the Foreas chuckle quietly.
"Unfortunately, a rather virulent sickness has made its way throughout Caracas. It seems to only infect those of elven decent, particularly wood elves." Dantel sighed keeping his gaze towards the fighting pit. "Such a pity," his finger circled the rim of his chalice as the rings chimed against the glass.
"I believe that I've narrowed down essential components in engineering a cure. I had sent an emissary to your people on our behalf...it...did not end as intended."
"Yes, we Foreas generally like to be left alone. At least, that's what the Chief used to say, heh." Isobel sat back, taking another sniff of the wine before finally setting the chalice down.
"I considered myself quite lucky when I had heard reports that a Foreas had been living away from her clan," Dantel thought to himself for a minute. His right hand now rubbing his beard. "Is it...clan? Village? Commonweath, perhaps?"
She shrugged, "I guess you could call it a Village, but they're more like my Family, you know? We're not born like humans or elves. I was once told Dwarves grow in the ground like potatoes though, so they may have more in common with Foreas than I originally thought..." Upon noticing the mage looking at her in humored bemusement Isobel held a hand over her mouth and shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, I trailed off. About this illness... won't it spread to me as well? And why is the League of Magi dealing with illnesses? Don't Magi spend all their days making sparkly spells?" Isobel grinned to herself.
"The smart ones do, yes." Dantel returned Isobel's grin with a warm one of his one. She was quite inquisitive; a trait he admired. Despite the airs he put on it was clear he wasn't entirely the best in dealing with others. Not for lack of eloquence. "For the rest of us curing plagues, settling disputes, and filling the city coffers make up the majority of our day. Much to my brother's dismay."
"As for the illness, no, it's caused by a foreign fungai. No doubt brought by some Wood Elf refugees. It has only shown potency when in contact with..." Dantel was hesitant; he was unsure of the appropriate contemporary terminology when compared to Foreas.
"Meaties? Meatbags? Flesh-plants? I think I get you," Isobel laughed setting her untouched wine down beside her.
"Meatbags," Dantel offered with a chuckle. "I quite like that."
"Okay okay, fungi are tame! What are the ingredients for the cure, Representative of the League of Magi?"
"We've found that deeproot allows for a better balance of the humors, it effectively stops the spreading of the fungus. At least temporarily- it's likely that once the blood begins to clot the body in turn resists the deeproot nectar. We need a blood type that is much less easy to clot. I'm not entirely sure how your physiology works, but my peers have theorized that we could use magics to manipulate your blood in a way that allows us enough time to cut the fungus out without it spreading."
"Oh-" Isobel pursed her lips, "That may be difficult, I don't have enough sap to heal dozens of elves, you know. Even if I had enough, isn't blood magic, uh... forbidden in human cultures?" "Of course not, darling. We don't want to drain you dry," Dantel shifted upward slowly in his seat. All the while his eyes shifted between watching the scene below and Isobel. “As for the legality of our magic...you just leave that to me.”
"My alchemists will create a serum using a transmutation spell. Once they've studied the properties of your blood the process should be relatively simple. Or...at least that's the hope."
Isobel took a moment to look at the scene below, rolling her eyes when she saw the warrior on the ground, "Ugh, will the bull eat him already? This was interesting in the beginning, but it's dragged on a bit too long. Maybe if the fight was against one of those tall, muscular green humans!" Isobel sighed.
"I believe they're herbivores, dear." Dantel genuinely liked the Foreas. She was relatable on some base level that the Caracan couldn't quite understand.
"Herbivores!" Isobel shuddered at the thought of it.
"I know this all seems like an extravagant expense..." The man sighed. There was no doubt he’d paid a pretty penny to gain audience with Isobel, something he was unaccustomed to doing for woman. He not only paid for Isobel's boarding, but for her- rather expensive- stay while in Caracas as well. "I need to bring faith to the people of Caracas. It's something they're sorely lacking."
"Maybe you should build an altar to their preferred God of choice. They need something to worship around here if you want to give them faith..." The Foreas then fell into an uncomfortable silence, letting Dantel's wording bake in her mind. She continued before Dantel could respond. No doubt another one of her humorous tangents. “Are the Magi the chiefs of Caracas? Because I'd think only a chief worries about those things for his village."
"In...in a rudimentary sense. It's a complicated mess if I'm being honest. The Union of City-States are a conglomerate of...let's say very big tribes. These big tribes are governed loosely, and are often times about keeping the wealthy chiefs in power. Sometimes this does insurmountable damage to the people. It's not so much that they've lost faith in the Gods, but in humanity. In our ability to protect them." For the first time in their conversation Isobel could feel a shift, a stammer, in Dantel's confidence. Though he tried not to show it; his mannerisms spelled it out quite clearly.
"I have to admit that either you people complicate yourselves too much or we Foreas are too simple," Isobel looked down at the battle shaking her head in mild confusion. She watched as handlers load the now caged bull onto a boat as the gates to the colosseum eased open.On the other end of the arena the Elven warrior lay on another row boat either unconscious or dead; Isobel wasn’t sure., "Okay, forbidden or not, I'll give you some of my sap, but I want something in exchange..."
Isobel grinned slowly and Dantel could see her bounce a little on her seat, "I want a pet parrot and a bunch of bone tipped arrows, the strongest bone you have."
Dantel looked at her curiously for a moment. "What I can realistically do for you is supply you with gold, and point you in the right direction. Give someone gold, no one bats an eye; give someone a present and all of Caracas is chattering, you understand."
"I understand, but what's so bad about giving a present to a little plant?" She leaned back in her seat puzzling over her rhetorical question. After a few moments, she sprung up with excitement. "But yes, I can accept the gold."
"Lovely, a pleasure doing business with you, teroso." Dantel extended his chalice motioning for Isobel to do the same. Of course, the poor girl had no idea what that signified. Allowing silence to loom between them for a few pauses, he softly crashed his chalice into hers. It wasn't every day that he made the acquaintance of such a fascinating person as she. That was about to change.
In regards to Avan's post, sometimes your characters abilities, backstory, or demographics will grant them access to additional bits of interaction/lore. This is a great opportunity to find out a few things about characters/events/etc. These scenes will be denoted by a 'hider' and will typically be a joint collaboration between myself and another player. That would also explain why there is an "Atlas update" notification in a post not by me.
Yes, around 5'9'' is average for humans (5'11 for half elves). Dark Elves (average 6'4'') and High Elves (6'2'') are usually rather tall, but Wood Elves are typically shorter than those two (5'8").
Orcs, Tieflings and Briths (pretty sure everyone has forgotten this race of felinoid vikings) are usually the tallest ranging from 6'-7'8"
Obviously Dwarves and Gnomes are quite small in stature. I'm not sure about Sirens or Foreas.
Also, for reference the Brith are based off of this (obviously not futuristic attire):
