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Current Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
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Don't mind me. Just shilling a thread: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
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So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
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Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
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Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
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Bio

Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?

Stay awesome, people.

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Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau



Manfred had made it no more than a handful of yards, when he paused at the top of the steps. The ship's towering twin stacks let out a mighty puff of white smoke and then it died down to a trickle. From below came the sounds of shouting and clamour.

Dami damn it! He shouted inwardly. "Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße" he muttered under his breath. The Kerreman gritted his teeth and turned on his heel, marching back towards where he could get a better view. He could hear breaking glass and see the glow of fire reflected on the water's surface. This was why you didn't send children to do the work of soldiers, even if they were talented children. Manfred knew himself for half a child as well and even he was not so unwise. Either the old man has lost it or else he is doing this for a reason.

Making it to the forward railing, not so far from where the second mate, helmsman, and an unfortunate seaman slept by the pilothouse, Manfred peered over. Their plans had called for a measure of order and teamwork. Instead, there was naught but chaos and Dorothea was in the midst of it. With a growing panic that he tamped down on with the practiced mindset of a soldier, he scanned the scene below for her. Of Carmillia, he saw nothing. She had either pitched overboard or else abandoned Dorothea at her first sign of need. Zarra, too, had gone gallivanting off on his own self-appointed errand. Perrench schwein-hunde! he cursed at them. Dami-damned slimy, unreliable people!

His eyes found her: lost, scared, and alone in the surging mob. That vile agent of the Traveler's had outmaneuvered her. Under pressure, she'd consumed an aberration. Dory... He knew how much his had meant to her. He knew about her dreams but now she was part of a nightmare. She was giving it her best, though. He saw a flash erupt from Dory's hands and then she clubbed her disoriented foe on the temple and he spilled into the water. Manfred rushed to the side railing, closest to where she was, grabbed it, and checked that nothing would fall from him as he leapt over.

"Not proceeding as you'd expected?" inquired a voice. The former soldier froze. He had just swept the area there was nobody -

Everything was still. It was... like somebody had stopped the forward march of time itself. It was not only people; it was everything: the flash of Dory's magic, the flicker of the fires, the lapping of the waves. But not him. Manfred whirled in the direction of the speaker, eyes wide, hands going instinctively for his weapons. "What are you?" he asked.

The figure was a woman in a dark, hooded cloak. She was seated on a bollard. "Nobody you know," she assured him, her voice not the least bit assuring. He could feel the pinch of chemical magic in his mind. He had trained to recognize it but he also knew that someone capable of time-stopping magic could easily have hidden her deed. She wanted him to know. "You hide your true face," he growled.

"A necessary precaution," said the mysterious woman, "for my enemies are many."

A cold prickle worked its way up and down Manfred's body. Such power and secrecy, many enemies... His mind did not want to accept its own conclusions. "And you recognize me for one, Traveler."

He could not see her eyes, but he could see the soft smile on her lips. "I recognize you for many things, Manfred Hohenfelter: lost but too afraid to admit it, dutiful but with no one to serve, good but unable or perhaps unwilling to see the path to justice."

"You are the archdemon Zathra here to tempt me, like Dami in the wilderness!"

She regarded him steadily and said nothing for a moment. "I do not need to tempt what I could kill. Not that I shall do such a thing. There has been far too much death already; far too much of those with power misusing it against those without."

He was about to issue an angry retort but it would've done him no good. His way out of this was not to oppose the monster, but to appease it. He remained silent and nodded slightly.

"I know you for a good man: one who has seen the senseless slaughter that results when one person holds the effortless power of life and death over a great many others. How can he resist when he knows himself better? How can there be equality when, in truth, there is not?" She shook her head sadly and he listened. After a moment he replied. "There cannot," he admitted quietly.

"And yet I am a villain for trying to share the power that was placed within this world for us? For trying to empower the common people so that they might not be mere fodder for those who hoard the Gods' Gift?" Her voice rose and she unknitted her fingers.

"That power is unholy," Manfred retorted, finding his conviction once more. "Unnatural! It is not of this world and it turns people mad when they touch it!"

"Does it now?"

"One need only look below," he snarled, twisting to regard the frozen scenes of violence below. "That is madness!" he finished, twisting back to regard her but, instead of a grown woman, he was now face to face with a young boy. He recognized that boy from somewhere. Where, he could not precisely say.

The boy frowned. "That is the problem. As things stand now, most people cannot cleanly handle the power that comes from without. Its effects are temporary, yet dangerous nonetheless." His feet dangled as he talked and, momentarily, he hopped off of the bollard and half-turned. "I... wanna change that," he continued. "You don't know how much the church lies." He shook his head in annoyance and his eyes met Manfred's again. "The things that they say about 'aberrations'." He made his fingers into air quotes.

"The church is the word of the gods," Manfred replied with a coldness more certain than he felt. "Are you questioning the gods?"

"No, for the love of Shune," retorted the boy. "I'm questioning the people who make up that church. Did not Ahn-Dami give us free will? Do not we have choice? Who is to say that same choice does not corrupt the will of the gods? Who's to say your beloved priests and bishops - users of the Gift all, from families of wealth and privilege all - are telling you the truth?"

That gave Manfred pause, for he had long known that people in positions of power lied. His own family lied. Jurgen lied about the woman he had raped. Father had lied to his soldiers about the war. Mother had lied to him about Nina - dear Nina - and then his sister had disappeared. "Then what are they lying about?" he challenged.

"Everything," the boy snorted derisively, "but most of all, the 'threat' that their 'aberrations' present." He walked right up to Manfred and gazed up at him, expression implacable. "What we're doing down there -" he gestured "- it's imperfect, though your friends have made it look worse, but you can absorb that power safely: in small amounts, weeks apart, and it will work. It'll make you stronger." The boy turned abruptly and skipped away, leaning against the rail on his tiptoes. For a moment, he seemed so like a boy and so little like The Traveler that Manfred nearly forgot who he was. "But the real solution," he continued, "is in the hold of this ship or... one part of it, I guess."

"The Lyre?"

The boy grinned mischievously. "Old Hugo didn't tell you why it was so important," he teased, "and unlike those Rednitz fools who just want it for status, he knows what it can do."

"And I suppose you'll tell me?"

"Yup!" the boy replied, and Manfred waited. The Traveler's expression grew impish for a moment before he relented. "You see how just that tiny bit's affected them down there?"

Manfred glanced that way again and when he looked back and opened his mouth to speak, he was speaking to Nina. "You are not her!" he roared. "Don't take her face! You have no right to!"

He blinked and the Traveler was an old man with a long beard. "Apologies if that was jarring, but I have met her and she believes me. Search your feelings. You know your sister. You know her heart."

"Say your piece, sorcerer."

The old man let out a snort. "I cannot let you and your group succeed." He shook his head regretfully. "That artifact can reconcile the without and the within. In layman's terms, it and its peers can remove the taint of madness from aberrations. With those, we can change this world for the better. We can bring The Gift to all of those who deserve it."

"And each holy artifact can do this? How do you know?"

"I have already said enough. I do not like to kill but, for such a greater good, I would scarce hesitate. That is why I need to know whether I must risk my loyal friends or whether I can trust you and your people to make the right decisions."

Manfred's heart was hammering. He could feel it within his chest. This truly was the Traveler. There truly was something to the artifacts, or so it appeared. He would test that later. "I cannot speak for others," he warned.

"I will speak with them in time," replied the old man.

"The artifact is safe so long as it is in my hands," Manfred promised, though he truly had no other viable choice. "I will put your theory to the test," he amended, "and if it should turn out not to be -"

"I would expect nothing less," the old man interrupted. "In fact, I would encourage it. Just... be careful who you call an ally or a friend." He nodded sagely. "Now, I believe, you were in the middle of being a hero," he concluded. "I would rescue the girl and head for the hold as quickly as possible. There's a hidden access near one of the wheels, not far from where she's standing. It'll take you to the engine room."

How can he know all these things? Manfred wondered, his sense of unreality ebbing and flowing with each sentence in their exchange. Now, he understood, the unsettling encounter was about to be over. He would be left with much to think about and little time to think. "One last question..." he began, and the Traveler twisted and nodded. In truth, Manfred felt stupid asking it, but he had come this far down the rabbit hole of reality and it was now burning in his mind. "Are you... a God?"

The old man merely chuckled. "Only to some," he replied. Then, there was a flash of darkness and Manfred found himself standing not one yard from Dorothea. She turned and regarded him, startled. "Yes, I snuck up on you," he assured her. "Easy to lose me in the press of this madness."

"It is madness!" she near-shouted, "total madness! Dami, I should've never touched that gods-damned aberration!" He kept his newfound perspective to himself for the time being, for it wouldn't help. Instead, he knew something that would. Manfred took Dorothea by the hand and pulled. "I'm very glad you're alright," he said simply. "Come with me. I know a way out of this."



Long ago, along the banks of the rivers now called the Asquelle, Oreuse, Vitroux, and Meine, there lived five tribes: one for each of the Gods, though these people were as yet ignorant of the Pentad. The land that Oraphe had gifted them was lush and green nonetheless, the climate fair, and the forests rich with game. At times, it was true that Echeran raised his mighty sword and there was war among them but, more often than not, there was bounty enough for all and so they lived in IptΓ©'s peace.

Centuries passed and, as Chune granted them more of her wisdom, the five tribes began to apply her Gift of magic in simple ways. They built villages and towns, pushing back the forests with their dark, rugged reaches and savage beasts. Farms came to cover the hillsides: swaying seas of golden rye, barley, oats, and lentils dotted with thatched-roof huts and cottages. Gradually, the five peoples became one and their numbers grew. They began to call themselves something new: Parren. Dami was pleased by their sound judgement and blessed them greatly for many years.


But the five tribes-turned-one were simple yet, compared to their neighbours from the rocky, sweltering north. These had built a vast empire on blood, gold, and magic. They, too, were many, and greatly blessed by Echeran, whom they worshipped in marble temples. Now, they turned their greedy eyes south towards the lands of those they called Parencii. How simple was the conquest.

Yet, for all of their initial brutality, these Avincians proved just and fair as masters and, in time became brothers with the Parencii and the others whose lands they had marched upon. Once again the people of the Asquelle, Oreuse, Vitroux, and Meine thrived. They learned a great deal in this time - most of all, the names and magics of the Gods - and nobody could call them simple anymore. They built their homes of stone and plowed their fields with oxen and slaves gained from conquest. Their victories became those of the Avincians and the Avincians' theirs.


However, the same was true of their defeats, for such are the Gods of the Pentad that they give and they take. The peoples of Sipente ebb and flow no differently than their world does. Too much, those of the arid north liked their gold, and their empire weakened from within. From the south now, lands cold and unforgiving, blessed only with winds, snows, and a wealth of minerals, came a new threat: the Eskandr.

Their magics were fresh and strong and their fury and lust like nothing the Parencii nor their Avincian masters had ever seen. By fire and sword, they set upon the more civilized peoples' homes, farms, and businesses and razed them to the ground. To their frigid and desolate lands, the Eskandr took the accumulated wealth of generations: the gold, spices, and marble, the strong men as slaves, and the beautiful women as unwilling wives. Those left behind howled for vengeance and, within a decade, formed the backbone of the mighty Avincian legions which struck south.





On the banks of the Meine, the two armies fought to a bloody standstill. The empire recovered itself somewhat and staggered on for another two hundred years. The Eskandr bided their time but, when the thousand year city of Avince and its civilization fell, it was not they who did the deed. Rather, among others, it was the Parench. For quite some time, they had been doing the dragon's share of the work and receiving scant little of the reward.

For their greed, Dami judged them wanting and Echeran laid them low. Plague and famine swept the lands of the dead empire. Petty kings, conquerors, and strongmen carved the great corpse into small, feuding realms. Roads fell into disuse, temples into ruins, and forests full of wolves and bandits encroached upon farmland. As they lay bleaching in the subtropical sun, bricks were scavenged from the great, overgrown bones of the old Avincian cities. Public baths, stadiums, and libraries became humble huts and longhouses. Books became kindling and the practice of magic became strange and arcane.


Now, the Eskandr returned, and they feasted on the soft lands to the North. Under many banners but with one purpose and a common set of heathen gods, they raided up and down the coast and then began to strike inland. The villages of the Parench burned once more and there were a hundred different men who claimed that they would act as saviour to their people: the one to take on and defeat this scourge of Echeran. They would not share their glory, however and, instead, they carved their own lands up in bloody warfare. Only after dozens of these would-be heroes lay dead and the heathens ran rampant, extracting tribute and taking slaves, did the remainder swallow their pride and adopt the titles of dukes, counts, barons, and margraves.

On the shore of the Γ‰troite Sea lies the old Avincian city of Solenium, with its handsome stone buildings, cobble streets in their original grid pattern, and palm trees that sway in the maritime breeze. Renamed Solenne by the Parrench, it was here that the proud lords of the land, near to broken from their wars against each other and Eskandr alike, gathered on the Ides of Verdi. As cathedral bells chimed and the year’s first flowers bloomed outside, they bowed their heads and pledged their fealty to a new king: a first among equals.


The ruler of the unified Parrench people, Arcel, is a young man, for it was truly his father Rouis who won the crown and then expired too soon to wear it. Some say he is clever, handsome, and strong in The Gift. Others say that his are a young man's dreams and too grand to make for reality. Dukes and counts whisper and scheme. Margravines curtsy and court him. They say he will fail but, in truth, he must succeed, or the bold experiment that is one Parrench nation will fail with him and become a feast for the Eskandr.

To that end, in cities, towns, and even the largest of villages, King Arcel's agents now appear. For those few who can read, parchments are hammered onto posts and church doors while innkeepers and town criers relay the king's message for the many who cannot. Arcel, first of his name, King of the Parrench, calls all willing and able warriors skilled in the use of The Gift to the town of Relouse, on the southern frontier. Knights, Wizards, Rangers, and Scoundrels alike, he calls them to fight for the future of their people.





Your Legend_________ __ __ _ _

First: The Story This is a low fantasy RPG set in the same world as The Hourglass Order, but eight hundred years prior, during the Dark Ages. It shares much of the same lore and deals with the coalescence and founding of the nation of Perrence. This takes place against the backdrop of merciless and persistent raids and invasions by the southern 'barbarians' known as Eskandr. Yet, these invaders face issues of their own. Their northernmost brethren - the Drudgunzeans - are increasingly forsaking their ancient ways and the faith of their fathers in favour of Quentism. You'll be playing warriors of a great many sorts who have answered the young king's call to fight for their country or else the very barbarians who seek to destroy it in order to preserve their ascendance.

Second: Character Creation This RPG involves magic and a handful of fantasy creatures, but is more concerned with a degree of realism than most fantasy. To that end, you'll be playing human characters. These should be setting-appropriate, which means no clockwork tinkerers, half-elves, unusually tall emo kids, rebellious princess-knights, or anime main characters. The people that you create don't have to revel in their outward uniqueness simply for its own sake. They can be archetypes but still be compelling if thought, nuance, and heart go into making them. Good Dark Ages character art is also very difficult to find, so I'll be allowing some leeway, but this is not a D&D campaign or an anime. Characters attire should be practical and reflect their setting and role.

Third: Conduct This will be a fast-paced game with plenty of action, intrigue, politics, and exploration. It will have a clearly defined goal and ending. Players will be expected to adhere to the standard rules on powerplaying, metagaming, and 'asspulling'. Play this game in good faith and it'll be rewarding. If you find yourself very focused on 'winning' against other players as opposed to telling a collaborative story, then I'd ask you to look elsewhere. In terms of activity level, I'm looking for at least two paragraphs per post a minimum of once per week. If you don't think that you can keep up with that activity level, then this isn't for you. If you go inactive on the forum and on discord without prior notice for more than a week, I will ping and Direct Message you. If you fail to respond after a second week of inactivity... your character will fall in service of the kingdom or join the Visitor in GrΓΈnhal.

Fourth: Deaths As participants in a wartime game, you run the risk of character death. These will not be random acts of the Gods, but risky choices are, well... risky. That is not to discourage risk-taking. There may be sizable rewards as well, but ill-advised decisions (and you will always receive a warning of the risks and possible benefits if you would like one) can also result in the maiming or death of your character. You are free, however, to re-enter with a second character if your first is taken by Echeran. You'll only be permanently kicked from the game in instances of counterproductive behaviour or extended inactivity without notice.

Fifth: Character Roles There are three main factions and ten Callings (otherwise known as classes). Some are fairly unique and there will be caps on how many characters are allowed of these types. For the sake of realism, if your character is going against the societal grain, I would like to see good, nuanced, developed reasons as to why. If you're rebelling in some way, it needs to have a compelling internal logic and thoughtful emotional justification. In general, to ensure a balanced spread of characters that reflects the spirit of the game, we'll be using a quota system. If there are too many characters submitted for a particular quota, the one best suited to the direction of the narrative will be taken. The other player may submit an alternate character if they wish.





The World_________ __ __ _ _


The world of Sipente, where our story takes place, is vast and complex, governed by the laws of nature and magic but, to its people, by those of the divine Pentad as covered in the holy Menanne. All Parrench and many Drudgunzeans believe firmly that it was through the will of the Gods that all things were brought into existence, by their leave that man flourishes, and by their wrath that he fails.

Distinct from most fantasy settings, this world is very much in its equivalent to the Dark Ages (though the later part of them). Tactics and technology are simpler than in later medieval times: castles humbler, siege warfare in its infancy, good steel more valuable, and mounted knights a relatively new innovation. Full plate armour does not yet exist. The trebuchet has not been invented. Still developing, too, are the social codes that will come to define the middle ages: chivalry is a mere idea that some people have, nobility is still as much a state of being and behaviour as it is a status that one inherits. Magic has become less schooled and more arcane, still widely used but with much of its written form and finer points having been lost. Kingdoms are generally small and evanescent in nature. Parrence is the first truly large one to form north of the Asquelle since the fall of the Avincian Empire. Its success or failure may very well determine what the continent's future will look like.

Many are the peoples, places, beasts, and legends of this world. However, in this brief guide, only those that may play a role in our story will be covered.




















B L A C K F L A G























J O C A S T A R E


"Five encounters five," said Creep, doing that thing that people of a certain height did, looking down their nose at you in a subtle assertion of power. "One for each of our party to trial against." It gave Jocasta pleasure knowing that hers was the power to break this arrogant girl should she have chosen. "Agreed?" The Virangishwoman concluded their one-sided conversation. Jocasta gave her the satisfaction of the eye contact that she so obviously sought. She gulped and nodded. "I...I'll give it everything I have," she promised. Or... perhaps ten percent, you peon. It was easy to turn the smirk that threatened to burst out of her into a brave smile. Then, she watched the children launch themselves headlong at giant tortoises. Jocasta had lived inside one of their shells once. She had eaten their putrid flesh: rubbery, bland, and slimy. What moisture it had contained!

The magics that they hit the halassa with were about what she expected. Slut played a pretty little thing on her flute, splashed some paint and vibrated the sand. Oh, Jocasta thought, you're a sonic mage. Truly a stunning development. Still, she slowed the aberration-mad beasts a little, and that made it easier for the others. Subtly, the Tethered began drawing energy.

There was nothing subtle about Bitch, however. It was clear that the sisters weren't on ideal terms - and I wonder so ever why? Jocasta mused wryly - but they were oh so much alike beneath their superficial differences, pointy hats, and gaudy jewellery. This one just charged in and began jumping and dancing around the biggest oldest tortoise of them all, making a lot of unnecessary noise. Ugh, Virangish. She was entertaining at least, though her attempts to poke at its shell were not likely to yield any sort of dividends. For a moment, Jocasta considered intervening, but the girl was quick and probably wouldn't die. She'd find her opening eventually.

The boy that the Tethered had hardly noticed earlier - she'd thought there were only five of them for the longest time - she dubbed Sucker (for bloodsucker, since he looked like a vampire). He... started disintegrating sand. This was wonderful, honestly! The vampire was a blood mage! Left to her own devices, Jocasta would've struggled to make something so good up! Thankfully, the nonexistent gods had done it for her. Or just this guy's parents, she amended. She watched him sweat and strain and set himself as if he were about to defecate in the sand. A barrier materialized in front of the charging halassa and the big old tortoise hammered right into it blindly at a... breakneck pace. Well, not really. It did slam hard into something of considerable mass, however, and it staggered, stumbled, and... Jocasta gave it a little bop. It crashed to the ground, dazed and wounded, one of its chunky forelimbs twitching spasmodically.

As Sucker was busy nearly getting a nosebleed and giving a halassa one, Creep, for all her subtly disdainful talk of pulling one's weight - which Jocasta was all too used to being on the receiving end of - attacked the third animal with... a screaming puppet. The Creep is a puppeteer. Let me guess: the priest prays the next one to death. Just what the second Virangishwoman intended to do with a little black birdy and a cuckoo jester was beyond Jocasta's imagining, and that actually annoyed her slightly. If this one dies, she told herself, I think I'll let it happen. Would the sisters reconcile as one lay there, expiring? That would be worth watching. A part of her now hoped that one would, indeed, take a mortal wound, but she wasn't invested enough to make it happen.

β€œAnd thus Shune said unto Rakda, I shall take thy sight from thee, so that thou may ponder thine own iniquity…!” Jocasta felt a distinct buildup of energy in the area of the fourth halassa and the beast let out a horrible braying, hissing yowl. Well, at least one surprise among the group. Yalen was straining, she could tell. For all of his Tethered powers and enviable degree of ambulation, his RAS was pitifully low. Boiling its brain, she recognized. He was the smartest of the group, the girl knew, for she had done it the same way. He made the most of his powers and ended its life quickly and mercifully. Animals were stupid things, but innocent, and there was no need to make them suffer for humanity's follies more than they had to.

Then, one was upon her. She'd been paying so much attention to the others that she'd neglected its approach. There wasn't time for anything fancy. With a speed approaching instinct, her arms flashed out in front of her and, eyes wide, she hit it with a massive kinetic shove. The enormous tortoise tumbled backwards, end over end, and landed on its back some fifty yards distant, struggling to right itself. Mercilessly, Jocasta drew the energy both from its flailing limbs and from the final halassa, which was heading straight for Ayla, and made a slight twisting gesture with her fingers. The inverted animal's neck snapped and its suffering ended.

While her draw had slowed the sixth giant tortoise to a more appropriate tortoise-speed, it was still headed for Ayla. There were three still very much alive and in the fight and a fourth down but not completely out. Jocasta began panting. She used chemical magic to cook up a sweat. Clearly, the Tethered girl had done her part and was rightly exhausted. She reached out with her manas. Even now, she could feel her former prison-mates stirring a ways away. She wondered who the caretakers' favourites were now: who'd told them about the disruption out in the sands. She could sense them moving: on a sortie out to investigate. The other five could handle three and a half halassa and, if they couldn't, they weren't worth having around anyways. "I-I'm sorry," Jocasta called, panting as she spoke, "That's one more down, b-but it took a lot out of me. I've got your backs, though! I'll...I'll scan in the distance for any more. Gods help us if there are!"

That would cover the surge of energy that they might feel from her. Four figures: caretakers, including Mirabel, the Tan-Zeno; Al-Qorrah, the Binder; Esparza, the Internal Chemist; and Gutierrez, the rapist. They would never make it over here. Jocasta drew from the desert and reached out with her energies: she would see to that.



World Expansion


Alright so, given the popularity of this game and its associated world and lore, I'll be opening up a second game during the summer (yay, teacher life!) set in an earlier time and different place. Below are a few potential options and we'll choose one. Feel free to chime in with any feedback, questions, or interest! Let me know which you'd be most interested in. On that note, I intend to open an interest check for the one chosen before the weekend.

1) Regium Anguis (Royal Snake): set during the height of the Avincian Empire, this RPG follows the political intrigue and growing conspiracy to assassinate an emperor who some feel is decadent and corrupt and others feel is strong and stabilizing. Yes, this means magical gladiators, barbarians, and centurions.

2) η§˜ε―†ζˆ¦δΊ‰ *Himitsu Sensō* (The Hidden War): set during the collapse of the Danegashima Shogunate, this RP follows the various warring clans and hidden agents of the Retanese twin emperors as they attempt to establish control over late medieval Kanjiki. Yup, we have magical ninjas, geishas, and samurai.

3) City of Stone: set in the fertile Miharapori Delta during the agricultural revolution, this RP follows a small band of hunter-gatherers as they encounter civilization and the establishment of the very first kingdom, formal discovery of the seven magics, and enshrining of the earliest pantheon of gods. Yes, this means magical cavemen, but think of it more as Mesopotamia/Babylon.

4) η™ΎηŽ‹δΉ‹ζˆ˜ *Bǎi wΓ‘ng zhΔ« zhΓ n* (War of the Hundred Kings): set in Dark Ages Re Tan following the collapse of the Sui Dynasty, players would either lead or be part of one of the dozens of factions and sub factions vying to establish the great nation's next dynasty or at least prevent it from splintering. Yes, this means magical shaolin monks.

5) Oriflamme: set in Dark Ages Perrence, Eskandish raiders pillage up and down coasts, rivers, and trade routes, extracting tribute from petty nobles and threatening the capital. The young king Arcel has decided to establish the Knights of the Red Table to counter their threat. Players would take on the roles of knights and mages in this quest. Yes, there be dragons.

6) By Reed and Wind: set during the expansion of the Palaparese peoples into the islands of the Solemni Ocean, this RPG follows the harrowing ordeal of one clan as they set off on their trimarans and catamarans to find a new home safe from the dangers of volcanoes, typhoons, great sea beasts, and internal sabotage. Yes, this means magical Maori warriors.




Feel free to take this survey: docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfJ1…
World Expansion


Alright so, given the popularity of this game and its associated world and lore, I'll be opening up a second game during the summer (yay, teacher life!) set in an earlier time and different location. Below are a few potential options and we'll choose one. Feel free to chime in with any feedback, questions, or interest! Let me know which you'd be most interested in. On that note, I intend to open an interest check for the one chosen before the weekend.

1) Regium Anguis (Royal Snake): set during the height of the Avincian Empire, this RPG follows the political intrigue and growing conspiracy to assassinate an emperor who some feel is decadent and corrupt and others feel is strong and stabilizing. Yes, this means magical gladiators, barbarians, and centurions.

2) η§˜ε―†ζˆ¦δΊ‰ Himitsu Sensō (The Hidden War): set during the collapse of the Danegashima Shogunate, this RP follows the various warring clans and clandestine agents of the Retanese twin emperors as they attempt to establish control over late medieval Kanjiki. Yup, we have magical ninjas, geisha, and samurai.

3) City of Stone: set in the fertile Miharapori Delta during the agricultural revolution, this RP follows a small band of hunter-gatherers as they encounter civilization and the establishment of the very first kingdom, formal discovery of the seven magics, and enshrining of the earliest pantheon of gods. Yes, this means magical cavemen, but think of it more as Mesopotamia/Babylon.

4) η™ΎηŽ‹δΉ‹ζˆ˜ Bǎi wΓ‘ng zhΔ« zhΓ n (War of the Hundred Kings): set in Dark Ages Re Tan following the collapse of the Sui Dynasty, players would either lead or be part of one of the dozens of factions and sub factions vying to establish the great nation's next dynasty or at least prevent it from splintering. Yes, this means magical shaolin monks.

5) Oriflamme: set in Dark Ages Perrence, Eskandish raiders pillage up and down coasts, rivers, and trade routes, extracting tribute from petty nobles and threatening the capital. The young king Arcel has decided to establish the Knights of the Red Table to counter their threat. Players would take on the roles of knights and mages in this quest. Yes, there be dragons.

6) By Reed and Wind: set during the expansion of the Palaparese peoples into the islands of the Solemni Ocean, this RPG follows the harrowing ordeal of one clan as they set off on their trimarans and catamarans to find a new home safe from the dangers of volcanoes, typhoons, great sea beasts, and internal sabotage. Yes, this means magical Maori warriors.




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The Imit tried hard to radiate power and dignity and maybe even succeeded. It was not difficult when he already possessed one of those things. Azar had seen men like him before - and they were almost always men - of course. Sitting there above her upon his fancy chair, his gaze had flickered momentarily to lewd. She didn't need to be particularly perceptive to notice it.

The ayiralite bowed low before him. These Tawrish thrived on recognition of their awesomeness. "I am Azar, your excellence, called Al-Hashimi or else Masoumi by others." She rose in a single, sinuous motion, her hair momentarily enfolding her in ebony and flames before settling about her back and shoulders. "You may, of course, address me however you desire." She paused for just long enough before continuing, aware that she should probably reference the Tawrish pantheon lest he suspect her of not being a follower. "I am grateful to have saved a man of such value. Indeed, I have come here from a place of some hardship to serve the will of the Gods and of Maatrho himself -" And, by extension, you, she thought, though she did not say it. "- in any way that I may be of use. Of course, as you know, my nature lends itself better to some pursuits than others..." With a thought, she conjured five small tongues of flame that danced at her fingertips.

It was near to noon and dusty columns of light streamed in through the tall narrow windows of the palace. This place reveled in that rarest of indoor commodities: sheer open space where utilitarian function was often the order of the day. Azar's attention, however, was on the Imit and her own performance, with which she found herself pleased. Nailed it, she thought, hiding her smirk of triumph. The jinnblood's expression remained beatific, or so she imagined it. She stood before the Imit's throne, feet together, chest out just a touch, for too much would make her appear low and that wouldn't do. She allowed a slight smile to crease her lips as she snuffed out the flames in her palm. A curl of smoke arose from it and, ever so slightly, she bowed her head and awaited his words.



Location: The Crows' Nest // Date: February 24, 2057 // Time: 21:50 // Interactions: Erik



Lysandra'd had the perfect amount of wine and reached the sweet spot of being drunk but not too drunk. One of the vanishingly few benefits of using a wheelchair was that balance was... less of an issue. If she was tipsy - and she was - nobody else had quite cued in to the extent of it and, if her singing threatened to give it away, then Lys was just a bad singer.

She'd just finished belting out Wonderwall and was anticipating a duet with Vincent when she heard Erik's voice and felt herself being pushed from behind. She'd gone so far as to remove the handles from the back of her wheelchair specifically to prevent just such incidents, but he used the grab-bar instead. Lys was about to protest in no uncertain terms. She was tired of people just moving her around as if she wasn't a person with her own will and impulses, but then he told her about Amelia's issues. She grabbed her own wheels and whirled to face him. "Not a shopping cart, dude, and the mic is literally still in my lap," she growled, "but I'm coming, whatever good it'll do." It took Lysandra all of fifteen seconds to hurry back into the Great Room and toss the microphone gently onto the couch. She paused only to scratch at an itch on her elbow. Amelia was probably just waking up and it was going roughly as it sometimes did. The body's metabolic processes were being totally reworked, after all. But just in case it isn't, she thought to herself, wheeling after Erik, God, how I wish I was sober right now.

Good to have an original back aboard. Looking forward to running into you down the line.
double-ewe bee to the guild.
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