Goldeagle1221

Grisaille Genesis

Map has been added to the Know All.

Grisaille Genesis

And so our story begins…

The night was clear; there was not a single cloud in the brooding midnight sky. All along the great walls of a Illistair, braziers threw out a flickering orange glow. This gave the wall a certain halo and illuminated the stones below, showcasing the frankenstein of architecture -- a mirror of its varied past. Atop the burly bastion, Silhouettes paced back and forth, their legs hidden behind the parapets.

Tink!

Something smashed into the wall. Heads peeked over the lip of stone.

Tink! … TINK!... TINKTINKTINKTINKTINK!

Shooting up the wall was a flood of crawlers, their stiff legs punching into the side of the wall and ripping large stones out as they clambered upwards. The orange of the braziers cast over their slimy bodies and reflected off their almost metallic spearheaded feet.

Bells began to chime, soldiers began to yell, and strings began to twang. Arrows whizzed through the air, some slamming into the mucus bodies of the crawlers, while others bounced off their legs. Stones and filth alike toppled from the side of the wall, but after the fourth volley, suddenly blood poured as well.

Two mighty legs curled over the edge of the parapet, suddenly shooting outward and punching through a cuirassed soldier before flinging him over the wall -- a curdling scream on his dying breath. Soldier’s leveled their spears, but soon a myriad of the crawlers swarmed over the lip of the wall -- and then there was a crumbling noise and the wall began to shake…

Elsewhere in Illistair…

“You’re very lucky you know,” The young nurse put on a sympathetic smile, her hands deep in a bowl of murky water, “Not many people take a hit to the ribs so well -- if the hoof had cracked it, it could have been a slow death.”

A wide eyed man with shaggy black hair and a stubbled face stared at her. He was naked from the waist up, a patchwork of white bandages over his chest and side. He was laying on a thin mattress of cloth and hay that itself was laid in the corner of a small room, an empty blood stained bed pushed up against the opposite wall with the nurse in between.

“I’m not sure if that makes me feel much better,” He said dryly, his eyes falling down to look at his bandaged side, “Now- now we are sure it’s not cracked?”

“Trust me, you would know,” The nurse flicked her hands dry over the bowl, old bandages floating atop the water.

“How?” He asked, leaning up on his elbows - -a wince of pain wringing his mouth and causing him to squint.

“For one the pain would be unbearable!” The nurse said with what the man could almost pin as joyful enthusiasm.

“It hurts, a lot,” The man quickly said.

“Unbearable?” She finally turned to look at him and he shook his head slowly, “Well there.”

“...How else?”

“Mr. Jarren,” The nurse chastised, “Don’t you think you may be a bit too distrusting of my diagnosis?”

Jarren looked away and the nurse continued, “This is Wisserbury, after all -- we are the best of the best… now please, try and relax. You need it.”

“I suppose you’re righ-”

Thump... Thump....

Jarren cocked his head, “What’s that?”

“Mr. Jarren…” The nurse turned fully to him, a scowl on her face. Before she could continue her scolding, a great crack deafened the scene, stones erupting from where the wall used to be. By the grace of god, gods, or luck, Jarren managed to spring (painfully) from his bed just in time to avoid a large chunk of building from collapsing onto him. His eyes widened with terror, grey dust filling the entire room alongside globs of silent monstrosities.

The grunts scampered quickly towards him, a great pool of blood seeping out from under a segment of broken wall and splattering over their legs. Jarren swallowed a gulp of air and dust, quickly turning away from the beasts. He sprinted full speed out of the room and into a long corridor. On either side people were darting from their rooms, wild with terror and all funneling into a singular direction. Something itched at Jarren’s skull and he turned around, sprinting in the opposite direction of the masses, his side flaring with pain.

The grunts began to pour out of where his room was, along with a handful of other rooms on his side of the corridor, but as he sprinted away and snuck a glance back -- they were chasing the panicked crowd going down the other end of the corridor, arms flailing at the stragglers and beating them to death with sickly thumps. Jarren’s head snapped back to his fore, and just in time.

Quickly, Jarren ducked under the swing of a lone grunt, the fist slamming through the open door it caught instead. Without missing a beat, Jarren kept running -- giving thanks to Teid for his luck. The hall whipped by him, and he no longer dared look to see what could be chasing him as he ran. He turned left, right, ran straight through a ward of the dying and sick -- turned left into an empty hallway, sprinted down it -- the ground shook.

Ducking again, he slid under a falling wooden beam and his side roared with pain. He cut off a squeaking yelp and pushed back to his feet -- right. Straight ahead he ran, the moonlight of the outside playing on the dust that now filled the hallway. Another slam and he gritted his teeth, the exit so close. Slam! Sweat began to form and he pumped his legs as fast as they would go, the pain ricocheting all over his body now-- SLAM!

Jarren leaped with all the force he could muster, the open night air washing over his body right before it was hit with a blast of rubble from behind. The impact forced Jarren forward through the air, eventually slamming into the debris and filth covered ground with a skin scraping roll. Dazed, he looked behind him.

Half of the Wisserbury hospital laid in a pile of crumbled stone and broken wood, a heart seizing gap in the Illistair wall next to it. A cold shiver fought his heated pain as his eyes were sucked into the emptiness that was between the two sides of the broken wall -- the emptiness moved, he blinked. His eyes quickly adjusted and there he saw in the distance, the largest giant he ever laid eyes on. It was at least seven men high and was engulfed in a swarm of grunts and crawlers, it’s massive arms colliding into the remains of the monastery. Its minions were making quick work of displaced soldiers and survivors alike in the most brutal fashion, the pops of bone and metal crackling over the crumbling battlefield. A powerful breeze blasted by Jarren and stole his attention away from the army of destruction, his eyes making out the culprit as it passed him -- a horse.

It was heading right for the army of filth, and atop sat a man dressed in chainmail with a fancy great helmet atop his head, a fine looking steel blade held high in one hand, and a well battered shield in the other.

“Idiot…” Jarren coughed to himself, slowly getting back up to his feet, legs shaky. He turned away from the onslaught, eyes scanning for his freedom. He cringed. There at the opposite of the fight a mass of soldiers were beginning to form, arrows notched and siege engines rolling up.

“Not that way,” He wiped the corner of his mouth free of gathering dust and spun back to the army of filth, the sight of the hero on the horse all but consumed by the lingering dust clouds. He furrowed his brow, dark brown eyes finally landing on the gap in the walls -- specifically the rightmost side as it was rather clear, with most of the filth coming around the corner of the leftern hip. His ears twitched -- the ropes of the engines were being pulled. His brow dropped and as best as he could, he began to sprint again.

The dust scratched at his eyes as he ran, tears welling. His heartbeat was in his throat and anxiety conquered his stomach -- he lost track of where he was. An arrow whizzed from behind him and he gulped. His fingers crossed, praying he was heading towards the clearing in the gap and not the-

He slammed full force into a grunt, the ooze slapping across his bare chest. He hissed, the gloop stinging his skin ever so slightly. The beast turned, bringing an arm with it. Jarren closed his eyes -- but the blow never came. A sudden shlink! erupted through the air, and Jarren opened an eye to peek.

The horseman sped off, his blade dripping with filth. Jarren looked down, he was standing in a puddle of filth. Saying a second prayer to Teid, Jarren continued his run but this time he found himself heading in the same direction as the horseman -- something wasn’t right.

Before he could turn around, a mighty ball of stone came crashing from the sky. As it landed near him with an amazing clap of sound, the dust was pushed aside, revealing a large puddle of filth and crushed crawlers. Another stone fell, then another. Jarren could feel his pulse in his teeth, his adrenaline boiling. A glint caught his eye, nearly causing him to trip over a clump of corpses.

He turned slightly, the glint signaled again. He squinted through the dust and dirt, it was metal. A curiosity overtook his sickened stomach and he sprinted over. As he approached his heart froze; there ahead of him the horse stood, wild eyed and frightened, it’s reigns pulled down to the ground by the metal clad knight that once rode it, a large pool of blood seeping from the helmet, several massive dents pulverizing it inwards.

Jarren swallowed hard and necessity overtook his compassion. He quickly scooped up the knight’s sword, and snagged his shield. Looking hard at the horse, he suddenly swung a leg over it. He kicked the knight’s hand from the reign and with his knees pressed against the saddle, he kicked the horses flanks -- and just in time.

A stone fell from the sky, smashing into the corpse of the knight and burying in into the debris and piles of bodies below. The rubble bounced off of Jarren’s back and spurred the horse faster -- CRACK!

A terrible leg that possessed the width of a bundle of pillars slammed into the ground next to him, causing the horse to buck. Jarren held tight, his eyes wide with horror as he looked up. The giant stood directly above him. Arrows littered the monster’s body, but still it attacked -- lifting a leg.

CRACK!!

Another near miss, Jarren barely holding onto the horse.

WHAM! A wet crash sounded as one of the stone projectiles of the defenders hit the beast squarely into the chest. It stumbled.

WHAM! Another hit; it fell to one knee. It lurched and then collapsed, nearly toppling over onto Jarren. The man held his horse still, he himself frozen with fear as the great monstrosity began to bubble and ooze next to him. He raised his stolen sword, either out of reflex or fright. Time slipped, the great big body began to melt and the dust began to settle. The sounds of the battle slowly quieted down, but still Jarren stayed still -- until…

“There he is!” A shout called out and Jarren turned in his saddle towards the voice. A line of soldiers, many maimed and battered, stared at him, most with large smiles of relief. Looking across, the soldiers saw Jarren sit on the horse of the hero, a giant melting right behind him and his sword raised high.

A cheer suddenly erupted from the soldiers as they began to chant, “Ratcher! Ratcher! Ratcher!”

Completely shaken, Jarren raised his sword, the cheer grew louder and so did the pain in his side.

Things to know

This will be added to the Great Know All:

Illistair has suffered its first wall breach in many many years, but it was thwarted by the combined effort of the wall soldiers and the strategy of an unknown hero named Ratcher. Ratcher had alerted the rest of the soldiers around Illistair of the breach, allowing them to reposition the siege capabilities to focus on the gap just in time. After this, Ratcher rushed selflessly into the battle. He managed to save many stragglers from the destroyed monastery of Wisserbury, only to once again dive into the thick of the fight. In the end he was found before the giant, the beast dead. He had discarded his chain and helmet at some point during the fight, but stood victorious over the giant nonetheless.

Wisserbury has been destroyed. Illistair has suffered a great many casualties.

Illistair has a new champion named Ratcher, claimed to be able to take down even a giant with his blade.

Rumors of the wall breach and Ratcher spread across Pertovia -- some Illistair citizens contemplate moving, uneasy by the idea that the walls could be breached. The Apothecaries petition the mayor of Illistair for help rebuilding the monastery but are denied, the funds going towards the repair of the wall and the recruitment of new soldiers, driving a wedge between the two parties. The destruction of Wisserbury -- a place of Parrel -- spreads doubts.

Kendles

“I would wager that they would rather slit their own throats before going with you,” Derick folded his hands together, a ring and pinky finger missing on his right hand. The man was in his early thirties, with predatory eyes the color of steel and cleanly cropped light brown hair. He sat on a throne of glorified wood, nails and knuckle-bones. His clothes were ratty and old, but not as shabby as the crooked hut he sat in. The man in front of him was completely bald, at least ten years older, and draped in an unusually nice black cloak. He wore a sneer that never seemed to leave his face, only deepening at Derick’s suggestion.

“Some have tried, but that’s a simple matter of a mallet to the hands now isn’t it?” His eyes narrowed, “Don’t concern yourself with the packages once they are out of sight, keep your eyes on the payment.”

“Anything for good old Kendles,” Derick opened his arms.

“So it’s a deal then?” The man smiled a yellow toothed smile and Derick returned it with one of his own.

“Not quite,” His words made the cloaked man wince, yet still sneer. Derick cocked a head, “You said this deal has been going on for quite some time, yeah?”

“The Friends of Foy participated,” The man jabbed a finger into his palm.

“Wolf?”

“He didn’t know, he didn’t need to.”

“Well if they did then I’m sure that means I should,” Derick gave a dumb look and the man greedily nodded, the sarcasm escaping him.

“Yes-- you’re the--”

“I know who and what I am,” Derick stood up, his height beating the cloaked man’s by an inch, “And that’s why I have to decline, find your elderly and beaten somewhere else.”

“But-”
“No buts,” Derick folded his arms behind his back, “Despite what you may have heard, the Filth Eaters do not deal in human lives, not at that price at least, not on my watch.”

“The Friends-”

“Then ask them,” Derick waved a hand, “If you can even find them anymore,” He laughed almost menacingly, his eyes turning to daggers, “I’m not to be insulted by such a price ever again or I’ll take both your ears and feed them to your-- I’m sorry are you married?”

“No,” The man grit his teeth, yet somehow was still sneering.

Derick stared for a while, “Who would’ve guessed.”

“An eighth more.” The man suddenly offered. Derick pointed one finger at him then slowly swerved it so it pointed at the ceiling.

“A quarter.”

Derick raised his hand further and the man growled, his sneer finally gone, “A half more.”

“There it is,” Derick flashed a charming yellow smile, “It’s a deal.”

“Good.” The other man seemed too ashamed to sneer any longer and Derick flicked his wrist.

“It’s getting late, Mr. Keeley.”

The sneer was back. Keeley looked as if he wanted to say something but instead pulled his cloak close to his body and stormed out of the room. Derick rolled his eyes and slumped back into his throne, a bored expression taking his face.

---

Boots silently crept across a dirty plot of land. Ragged shacks littered it in no real order, and the sound of both coughing and snoring filled the birdless sky. The owner of the boots were two large men, their footsteps eerily silent compared to their size. As they walked by a dark alley between two different rows of shacks a sudden laugh caused them to stop. They turned to the sound, a scabby man laughing into his own naked lap, his body bruised and beaten. Next to him a now bloated body laid, it’s face a hue of blue. A swollen tongue stuck out of the decaying fat cheeks. The men shared a look and continued, this was nothing unusual.

The pair passed shack filled with laboured grunts and moans, a dirt covered child squatting outside, fingers drawing in the mud, a big frown on his face. The kid’s gaze caught one of the men, the booted man giving the child a twisted face, forcing the kid to scramble away. The jokester turned to his partner, but received nothing but a stonewalled frown. The jokester rolled his eyes and flared his nostrils.

Slowly the two walked away from the cluster of shacks, finding one that was quite alone, far from the stench of the rest. Trees loomed over it, and the flicker of fire peeked through its thin wooden walls and a puff of smoke exited a latched hole in the roof. Without much ceremony the two thugs walked up to the front and only door, a thin piece of wood and slammed their foot right into it.

With a loud crack, the door jumped off its simple hinges and plowed into the one room shack, slamming into a kneeling woman and knocking her right into the open fire. She started to scream as her clothes jumped with flames, a young girl screeching in the corner while an older man scrambled to his feet. One of the thugs pointed at the young girl before roughly kicking the woman out of the fire, bringing a second boot with a resounding crack against her skull, her scream stopping, but her chest still rising and falling.

The old man tackled into the thug, but his frail body barely caused the tall man to flinch. With a strong hook, the thug slammed a fist into the man’s stomach, curling him over to the floor. The girl was still screeching madly, then with a snapping sound, the other thug brought his boot to her small body. The screaming stopped.

The thug by the unconscious woman and coughing old man turned to the other, who gave him a shrug. The little girl was slumped over, a drizzle of scarlet and saliva dripping out of the corner of her mouth. The first thug hissed a breath.

“Nevermind that, grab the woman, I’ll get the geezer.”

Things to know

These things will be added to the Know All...

Kendles is under a new administration. With the death of Wolf three years ago, Kendles was thrown into a gang war between the Filth Eaters and the Friends of Foy, and for the most part it was fairly even... until Derick showed up. No one is truly certain where he came from, but he joined the Filth Eaters rather quickly, his intellect rocketing him to the top, where his charisma and backing threatened the old leader of the gang. When approached about his ambition, Derick supposedly defended his own life by slaughtering the much bigger, much stronger and much quicker gang leader. This unexpected victory sent Kendles on edge, as up until this point he was simply a numbers man who brought in profit -- but now he was dangerous too.

Derick became the leader of the gang soon after, and as the leader he lead a pinpoint war against the Friends of Foy that not only broke their hold on Kendles but sent most of them into hiding, if not outright disbanding the bulk of the gang. He is now the de facto kingpin of Kendles, a fact he is quick to remind people.
Word is spreading, however, that abductions are on the rise in Kendles, more so than usual -- and strange men (clearly outsiders) have been seen with the Filth Eaters, the once ragged gang becoming slowly more and more rich and powerful. Some of the denizens of this lair of scum are upset with Derick’s iron grip, but none so far are brave enough to oppose him.

Grisaille Genesis

Reminder: don't forget to periodically check the Know All in the CS section. I will try to always mention updates in the discord chat, but in case I dont: I usually will update it following posts.

Grisaille Genesis

THE GREAT KNOW ALL

Known Settlements and Ruins

Illistair

Illistair is currently the largest settlement in Pertovia, and that's due to its high walls and thick regulations on who enters and when. The people are cramped and grumpy, but relatively safe when compared to the rest of the Pertovian population; that is not to say it is without its dangers. Illistair suffers from sieges every now and again, but luckily it's isolated northern position keeps it away from bulk armies of filth, or at least small enough regiments to usually outlast a siege -- but with casualties. Illistair has fallen in the past, having existed for roughly 300 years, and founded by a mythical figure known as Aethel.

It is currently run by a mayor named Orvin, an elderly man of great wisdom but perhaps calloused compassion. His great rise to fame was his introduction of the ration stamp, a piece of bark signed by him in brown ink -- nigh unrepeatable by the populace, as its ingredients are highly kept secrets. These stamps are exchanged as currency and are redeemable at the granaries for rations.

Illistair has just experienced its first wall breach in a very long time, the attack destroying the Wisserbury monastery and causing tensions between the Apothecaries and the Mayor.

Kendles

Kendles is the ever changing town. If you want something, you can likely barter for it in Kendles, but safely? Perhaps not. Kendles has no authority or government besides sour honesty and sharp points. Not many people go there to stay, unless they have no other choice. Roving gangs and thugs aren’t the worst thing you will find in this ragged park of debris and poorly built homes, no, the worst thing is the attention that it can garner.

The Filth has moved through Kendles more times than anyone can count, and each time is devastating, and yet -- it never seems to die. People are of habits, and when you pick one spot to be The spot, it stays, much to everyone’s aggravation.

Kendles is currently run by the Filth Eaters gang, headed by Derick Eight Fingers. The town is experiencing an unusual amount of abductions.

Jornorston

The least visited, yet populated, settlement in all of Pertovia (or at least our best guess) is Jornorston. It is said to be rather quiet and unsettlingly safe. As long as anyone can remember there hasn’t been any filth seen in the area, and the locals aim to keep it that way. Outsiders are not usually welcomed in Jornorston, the people being suspicious and downright rude.

This sort of attitude breeds suspicion of its own, and many have created rumors concerning what may really be happening down in Jornorston. Some say the high priest (An angular man named Thomas) of the highly religious settlement is a polygamist who steals young girls from surrounding area for his own pleasure -- a sick way to worship Oorick and thus pleasing the Filth. Others go right for the throat and suggest human sacrifice, or even cannibalism. No matter the rumor, many believe they are in cahoots with the Filth.

It is rumored that people are being smuggled into Jornorston by the droves.

Known Crowns

The Iron Crown

The iron crown is currently in the possession of Sister Candle and was discovered on one of her journeys through the wilderness. It was a miracle at all that she had found it amid the mineral and rock it was embedded in, it being a rusty iron itself. It is clearly very old and openly bears the hammer marks of when it was forged as well as very neatly carved etchings on the inside ring, giving it less the look of a blacksmith’s work and more of that of a long dead artist.

Sister Candle has not been able to discern the etchings to mean much of anything, not recognizing them as any of the letters she knows.

The Silver Crown

The silver crown is currently in the possession of Gerrick the Grey and was discovered in a stream. The ripples of water nearly hid its sheen, but the glint of red rubies gave it away. The crown itself has suffered some damage, with a dent in the soft metal and a ruby missing on the front left side. Strange overlapping circles only a pin’s nose thick are sculpted along the silver, leaving not a single area smooth save where the dent smooshed the metal flat.

The Ivory Crown

The ivory crown is currently in the possession of Isolda Foy and was discovered hidden in a ruin. It is a thin circulet with a large hunk of onyx on the front. It is uniquely smooth and somehow sculpted from a single piece of ivory -- but whatever has a ivory bone that big is beyond Isolda. The craftsman ship is impeccable and on the inside of circlet rin are four notch marks inlaid with a strange silvery white metal.

The Golden Crown

The golden crown is currently lost. It is a very vibrant metal adorned with many gems, all arranged in a strange circular pattern, with overlapping etchings inbetween the set stones. There is no telling how old the crown is.

The Bronze Crown

The bronze crown is currently in the possession of Kiera and was discovered in her old homestead. It is a heavily decorated crown, with a lot of stones (many replaced over the ages) and geometric patterns. Despite what should be a beautiful craft, something looks wrong.

The Ruined Crown

The ruined crown is currently in the possession of Rodrick the red and was discovered deep in a ruin. It is a mess, with no real telling what the real crown looks like underneath, and no real way to release it from its blackened, charred prison of grim and rust -- no matter how hard you try.

Known Artifacts

The Signet ring: Currently in the possession of Red, it has a puzzle motif on the head.

The Ledger: Currently in the possession of Jarren, it holds the key to finding Castle Hope.

The Map: Currently in the possession of an unknown Kend, it holds the way to Castle Hope.

Jank Blades: While not an artifact, jank blades are common enough to be important to note. They are what you get when you smelt all the scrap metal you can find into one questionable medley and pound it into an axe head or sword.

The Filth

Knowledge about the Filth

The filth tend to attack at night, sallying from their stone ringed portals -- but that is not to say all return to the portals after the night ends. The tend to bypass wretched fools who wallow in the dirt, but will bring entire armies against settlements. Worst yet, they tend to steal tools and objects as they leave the destroyed settlement.

The filth don’t react to pain or retreat, nor do they rely on sense of sight.

You don’t know too much more about the Filth yet.

The Filth Bestiary

Credit

The first three are shameless rips from the inspiration cited.

Grunt: Perhaps the backbone of any Filth incursion and everyones (hopefully) first encounter with the strange beasts. The grunt is the height of a short man, but moves incredibly quick on its short fat legs and is rarely alone. It has arms that train all the way down past its knees and pack a deadly whallop capable of breaking bones and caving skulls. The body of the grunt is bloated and stocky, covered in a viscious slime. It lacks a head or neck, with a simple puss covered lump atop its shoulders. Upon death, the grunt begins to melt into a puddle of filth… fitting (as do all the rest). Encountered by all members of the group.

Giant: Looking almost identical to the grunt, save for it’s towering size of easily four men and expansive girth. It is all muscle and much like all filth, seems to be immune to pain, moving forward until its goal is met or it is destroyed. The giant is a staple to every seige, their massive battering ram arms able to crack stone itself, leaving walls vulnerable to their assault. What’s worse is their ability to puke up grunts. It is not reccomended to attack or defend against a giant, not without some seige weaponry of your own. Encountered by Ethelsten, known by the rest of the group.

Flyer: What could only be described as a floating squid or perhaps tentacled clam of flabby flesh, the flyer is a very feared version of the filth. Luckily for most, they rarely are seen, seemingly saved for the defiant settlements and ambitious leaders. Their tentacles snap up people as they fly overhead, smashing them into their cavernous maw never to be seen again. The horrid truth is while the first two types of filth seem to focus on destroying civilization, the flyer seems content with simply destroying people. Known by all members of the group.

Crawler: a bulb of slimy flesh centered between ten razor sharp legs, the crawler looks like a bizzare spider -- if a spider could be the size of a horse. Unlike a spider, however, the crawler doesn’t rely on acrobatic legs to climb even sheer walls of stone, but pure power. It’s piston like strength slams it’s pointed feet into the stone as it climbs, making it insanely deadly to fight alone -- it’s front two legs serving as spears to the standing and all the rest serving as an executioner to anyone who may have fallen from their feet.. Encountered by all members of the group.

You don’t know any more types of Filth.

Reputations and Opinions

Most of you aren’t known by the people of Pertovia.

Isolda: known for killing the leader of the Friends of Foy in Kendles. Isolda isn’t known for anything else, anywhere else.

Ethelsten: Known as a doctor in Illistair, Ethelsten isn’t known for anything else, anywhere else.

Candle: Candle is known in the Kendles region for her charity over the past year. Candle isn’t known for anything else, anywhere else.

Red: Red is known as a scrapper working out of Kendles and Jornorston. Red isn’t known for anything else, anywhere else.

Greum: Greum is a well known scholar of the past, he works out of Illistair.

Orin

Orin is a barber/dentist, or so he claims. Not a lot of simple folk can move like he does in the thick of a fight.

Stats:

Might: 2
Coordination: 3
Fortitude: 2

Intelligence: 3
Wisdom: 3
Willpower: 2

Derick

Derick is the de facto kingpin of Kendles and leader of the Filth Eaters gang.

Stats:

Might: 2
Coordination: 2
Fortitude: 2

Intelligence: 3
Wisdom: 3
Willpower: 3

Ratcher/Jarren

Jarren is also known mistakenly as Ratcher, hero of Illistair.

Stats:

Might: 2
Coordination: 2
Fortitude: 5

Intelligence: 2
Wisdom: 3
Willpower: 1

Rat

Rat is a paranoid thief from Kendles

Might: 1
Coordination: 5
Fortitude: 1

Intelligence: 5
Wisdom: 1
Willpower: 2

Map of Pertovia

Map of the rest of the world

You haven’t acquired this knowledge… yet.

Grisaille Genesis

Banner the Terror of Kendles - WIP

Appearance:
Name: Banner Wayne
Title: The Terror of Kendles
Age: 60
Appearance: Banner is an unassuming older fellow with light colored skin, grey eyes, and gray wavy hair with a very well kept beard. He wears a thick glasses with gold and black colored frames necessary for reading. He also carries a light brown bowler hat everywhere he goes and when he's not smoking a cigarette he is lighting up his favorite black and red colored full bent billiard. Clark is big framed and built, although because of his age and his layered attire people easily dismisses him as portly or plump.

Personality and Background Information:
Banner is affable, calculating, and maniacal. It is evident that he understands what makes people tick. He then uses this to his advantage to lull people to a false sense of ease while around him. Although, the truth is that he is a violent, manipulative psychopath and everyone in Kendles knows this.

Stats and Skills:
Strength: An olympian among men (4)
Reflexes: Reflexes of a tree (1)
Fortitude: Skin of skin (2)
Intellect: The average (2)
Wisdom: Wise (4)
Willpower: Will of will (2)

@jimapple

Bad news! We just hit our player limit last night -- was just changing the status of the rp to closed. However, it may open up to non-crowned individuals later on, or if you think you have a particularly amazing idea you can attempted to woo me with an exceptional cs and concept.

Grisaille Genesis

Starting characters require an accepted character sheet (This is the basis for your enrollment in the RP after all)
- Put that sheet (once accepted) in the CS section.
- Please put it in a hider and underneath have a separate hider for every secondary character created after, these do not
require a sheet but do require a 15 point stat block. A secondary character is a reoccurring if not POV character
who fills all the roles of a protagonist or antagonist
- Supporting characters, NPC's, and minor cast do NOT require either a sheet or stat blocks.

That said, in this RP you are allowed to make theme fitting minor settlements (home towns, etc), characters, rumors, and the like at your own will -- and only require my permission to do so if in all good sense it is a major addition that we feel would be too intrusive to the story or setting to not to bring to a GM's attention. If this clause confuses you, refrain from using it and come seek my advice. Since this is a subjective clause, as GM I retain the right to be like "nuh uh, no."

Grisaille Genesis

PUT ONLY ACCEPTED SHEETS IN THE CS SECTION

Grisaille Genesis

Credit

Grisaille Genesis is heavily inspired by the game “Kingdom” created by Noio and Rawfury games. Knowledge of the game is definitely not a prerequisite but merely an inspiration point.

The Gods of Pertovia were partially inspired by the Riyria Chronicles

This game will focus on several main characters and countless side characters all at the control of the players and your story telling whims -- but what is the game? Well, here is the hook.

You are an inhabitant of the island of Pertovia -- I would say island nation, but it hasn’t been a nation for as long as anyone could remember. It’s a large dark land filled with secrets and covered in temperate forests, with many a mossy ruin and ancient dwelling. Long ago any semblence of true civilization was mysteriously struck from existance and what you can only assume was its replacement took precident: The Filth.

The Filth is a collective term for all that is wrong with Pertovia. Rings of black stone shuttle strange portals into existance and every night, hordes of strange monsters spill out to collect from the people, bypassing those who learned to wallow in the dust, but breaking down the walls of the brave few attempting to restart civilization. The Filth has been known to kill leaders, smite those with ambition and otherwise keep humanity in the darkness.

Over the years many have tried to right this wrong, or to unlock the secrets of the past, but none have been successful. It is rare to find a written work catalogued by one of these heroes of the past, even rarer to find someone who can read them, but oral stories are strong, if not carefully guarded as secrets. Crowns used to denote the leaders of yore, and some say certain crowns have escaped the claws of the Filth. It is rumoured that whoever discovers these crowns and wears at least one on top of their head, the people will flock, and civilization can start anew… however it is also said that other… more terrible things will also flock to these upstarts. Who will be the kings and queens who lead us back into the light? Will it be you?

You better hope so, because your character has found a crown on their travels through the woods. Whether you wanted it or not, you are now in possession of one of the most coveted items in Pertovia. Is it magic, does it do anything? No idea, but it is a symbol, a symbol of hope, and a beacon to the weary. It is now your duty to either rebuild civilization and unlock the story of the past, or die trying.

This story will focus on your characters going through the drama of setting up a civilization while battling the Filth and studying the past. There will be drama, there will be dives into ancient dungeons, there will be ruins and strange artifacts, there will be seiges, and there will be many a conflict. This is all done through you, the player. While your main character will be the crowned one, you are allowed to use and make any side character you wish, while I play everything else, including the Filth. This is narrative based and collaboration is encouraged. Skies the limit, and if it helps any, your technology level is aesthetically the end of the 11th to early 12th century. OH! Also, rumors have it that the main land is much… much worse off than Pertovia. Start small.

While making and using extra (NPC level) characters is encouraged, you will start off with a single main character who is a cut above the rest. For that character, you are required to fill out a character sheet, and in the case of their death or leave from the story, you should fill out a new sheet for your new main character or replacement. Please check out the ‘stats’ hider in the CS before filling out anything else and write whether your character is selfish, altruistic, or some scale in between in their personality section to show that you have read this.

Character Sheet

If you want to use a photo, put it here!

Name: Person McName
Title: The Example
Age: Newborn Baby
Appearance:

Person is a male bipedal hominin with no defining characteristics and is completely broke

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Personality and Background Information:

Person is jealous, easily angered, and is at a cross with his creator. His fury stems from his brief birth for the single purpose of being an example for actual players… etc Please include at least three personality traits to help you characterize your character (I.E Cheerful, Nihilist, Contrarian)

Stats and Skills(It’s not what you think!)

Six-by-Five tier stats. These stats do not define the personality of the character, nor will they have much room for change. They are simply the base psycho-physical attributes of the character, and will likely not play a large part in the story except in circumstances where we need to compare the character in a dubious situation or otherwise ensure the character is not breaking their mold. Zero is not an option. Write your character’s favorite food in their personality section to show that you have read this. Please note my use of ‘man’ in the following list is due to me not wanting to write out “Woman/Man” or “Person/Human” each time.

Points to spend: 15

Physical

Might: The output of the body, and how much strength it can deliver.

1. A child among men
2. A man among men
3. An athlete among men
4. An olympian among men
5. A legend among men

Coordination: The skill of the body, and how reflexive, accurate and precise it is.

1. Reflexes of a tree
2. Reflexes of a man
3. Reflexes of a cat
4. Reflexes of a mantis
5. Reflexes of a cobra

Fortitude: The input of the body, and how much stress it can withstand.

1. Skin of paper
2. Skin of skin
3. Skin of leather
4. Skin of bark
5. Skin of stone

Psycho

Intellect: The power of the mind, and how well it absorbs and recalls information.


1. The slow
2. The average
3. The quick
4. The smart
5. The scholar

Wisdom:The skill of the mind, and how well it applies all forms of knowledge to a solution.

1. Stumped
2. Straightforward
3. Insightful
4. Wise
5. Sage

Willpower: The truth of the mind, and how much stress it can withstand.

1. Weak of will
2. Will of will
3. Plenty of will
4. Strong of will
5. Paragon of will

Skills and Training:

Before he became an example, Person was actually a fletcher and thus is handy with the bow and arrow as well as with craftsman tools. Who knew?

A Travelers Guide to Pertovia

So you want to visit Pertovia, do you? Of course you don’t, you live there! -- but in case you’ve forgotten the key points about the dusky old island, let me remind you…

… it isn’t a well kept secret that while most of the land’s inhabitants had given up on building a proper civilization out of fear of the Filth, there is a few smatterings of what may be called ‘cities’ or at least glorified refuges that have historically either held off the Filth adequately enough or rebuilt themselves fast enough to still exist. The three most important to know is the refuge of Illistair -- City of high walls and angry people, Jornorston -- Refuge of questionable religion and a strange lack of Filth (The obvious kind), and Kendles -- The damned town, where life is short but as fulfilling as you may get in these dark times.

In case your forgot your manners after you left your mother’s camp, the Pertovians do have a set of dieties that have trickled down through the ages thanks to oral tradition and the rare leaflet. While there may be more, including regional dieties, the most common are The Four:

Teid the All: said to be the creator of the world and the other gods and the most contradicted in mythologies -- as some say they were slain by the other gods, others say they rule over the other gods, but most wonder what they did to deserve a world like this.

Parrel the Queen or Steward: depending on how you feel about Teid being dead (if anything at all), Parrel is either the Queen or the Steward, patron of health and care. She is said to look after your home and your family -- but the eagle eyed cynic may question this when observing the Filth. Self proclaimed practitioners of medicine often swear by her, and she is said to swear by their concoctions.

Ligdon the Wild: Ligdon is a mixed bag, just like the other gods of this pantheon. He is the caretaker of the wilds, as well as the proctor of virtue and other good moral qualities. He is the lord of the brave and right hand of the hunter. According to some, he and he alone is guiding the faithful through these most horrid times; often charms are made in his name to help fend off the filth or protect hidden caches… in some ways his name is a beacon in the dark. However there is a dark side to his coin: it is a resounding myth that during one drunken night after the largest hunt ever commissioned, he had become inebriated with lust and forced himself upon Parrel, bringing us to our last god.

Oorick the Hated: Pertovians are rather honest, and this Gods name says all. Oorick is the bastard spawn of Ligdon and Parrel as well as the harbinger of moral corruption and tragedies. Often depicted as a bubbling mass of everything that should never have been born, Oorick is often the target of everyone's hate.

As expected, having these four gods as your top of the line administration is rather depressing, but so is Pertovia right now -- I think that is the most important detail to keep in mind right there when visiting -- or rather living there.

Let’s cover one final thing regarding Pertovia: Law. There is none… but that doesn’t mean you can just do anything you want! While there is no official law, there are expectations and they are exactly what you think they are. That said, those large enduring settlements may have a thing or two to say if you break one of their expectations, so be mindful of where you are and look for bylaws -- which is a pain since most of you if not all of you can’t read, and hardly any of them are writing.

FAQ

Q: Wait, if there are four of us and four crowns, who is the main protagonist and who is the de jure ruler to be?
A: All of you are the protagonists and as far as government is concerned, you figure it out.

Q:How do we start?
A: Well, you recently stumbled across an ancient crown, marking you for death by Filth or renown by creating a civilization and unlocking the past. Take that, run with it and if you get stuck -- there are three others running around with crowns, that’s a talking point. If you are still stuck, well there is always me.

Q’s the mood of these RP, you’re acting pretty silly in the OP
A: It’s a rather serious RP oddly enough, with a lot of underbelly themes and impacting points. That is not to say a little light heartedness or wholesomeness in the face of abyssal darkness isn’t appreciated, but try to keep it reasonable to the theme.

Q:Is there magic?
A: How about you start digging up the past and figure it out on your own? There is plenty of ancient ruins and structures -- artifacts aplenty.

Q:Okay, but can my character use magic?
A: Maybe, but definitely not right now.

Q: Wait, if reading is rare -- how do you expect us to do any studying about the past?
A: You’ll figure it out.

Q: Can characters die?
A: Yes, but hopefully this won’t be a character death fest. That said, it’s best not to suspend belief so plot smart.

Q:So what sort of player are you looking for?
A: One willing to write a story for quite some time, put in some good posts and to be interactive with the world around them. There is a lot to uncover and really our story can go anywhere from here. If you are reading this, please put your characters most memorable moment at the bottom of their CS.

Grisaille Genesis

Gerick the Grey

Name: Gerick
Title: The Grey
Age: 24

Appearance:
Gerick stands at a respectable six feet, with unkempt jet black hair streaked with grey. His eyes themselves are also a dull grey, with dark circles looming underneath. His face is angular and gaunt; his skin an almost sickly pale. There are some who say he never smiles (perhaps to hide his rotted, decaying teeth), but he has been known to smirk on some occasions. His nose is somewhat crooked, having been broken once or twice in the past. Lastly, he is of an average build, perhaps somewhat frailer than most, but makes up for this with a surprising speed and agility.

For attire, he wears a rather plain homespun shirt and breaches, frayed with age. They were once green, but have mostly faded to a dull grey. Or perhaps the green is simply the result of grass stains. Who can say? Anyhow, he wears a pair of brown leather boots that are actually surprisingly well-fitting and sturdy, stained with a small speck of blood that just refuses to come off. Over all this he wears a thick, warm, grey cloak, stained with mud from his travels.

He also carries a steel longsword - the blade has a couple notches and a few flecks of rust, but is otherwise serviceable enough - which is kept sheathed at his hip on a worn leather belt, alongside a dagger in similar condition. His final accessory is one that serves absolutely no combat value; an old, battered, rotted flute that he may occasionally blow. He possesses absolutely no aptitude for this instrument, but it is dear to him nonetheless.

Personality:
Where to begin? At first glance, one would view him as grim, cynical, and depressed. He has a tendency to incline his head at an angle while speaking. As a result he may come across as rather creepy and unhinged - a fair assessment. He has a tendency to mutter or whisper to himself (but usually won't do this in front of others, unless he is deep in thought.) He is also generally pessimistic; quick to throw cold water onto other people's ideas, with a tendency to become paranoid, or to assume the worst when something has gone wrong.

Some may also note that he carries a dark sense of humour, with a tendency to take grisly or disturbing sights with nothing more than a grim remark - although he is in truth putting on a front, for both himself and others. He is not without altruism. He still has concern for others, but he does his best to suppress it, both as a coping mechanism and as a a means to avoid showing weakness. And for those who are just as jaded as he, his remarks may be genuinely amusing.

Also, don't mess with his flute.

Background:
Fifteen years ago, an attempt was made to start a new settlement. It started out small; various families and individuals from all over, who either voluntarily left their previous life or were driven out. Somehow they found each other, and for some reason or another, opted to stick together. Gerick was from one of these families, consisting of him, his mother, his father, an uncle, and an older sister. They found a promising site - flat-topped riverside hill - and set about the task of building a new civilization.

Why they tried this in spite of all previous failed attempts, Gerick does not remember. Perhaps they were optimistic to think that their fledgling village would be the exception. Or perhaps it was the opposite - they knew their community would fail, but were tired of wandering and instead dug in for a last stand. Either way, they made quick progress. They cleared away trees, stockpiled resources, erected crude shelters, and even some rudimentary defenses.

Within days, it fell.

The monsters came. The villagers didn't stand a chance. Gerick saw his father, mother, and sister ripped apart before his very eyes. Gerick would have died too, but his uncle - the village's best fighter and hunter - saved him. While the villagers died, he and his uncle grabbed what they could. While the village burned, they ran. Somehow, against all odds, they made it.

From that moment onward, Gerick had to be raised by his uncle.

He remembered his uncle once being an optimistic, good-natured, and good-humoured man. That changed after the death of their family. His uncle became cold, stoic, and grim. Gone were the jokes and smiles. The only thing that mattered was survival. And survive they did, sustaining themselves on berries, mushrooms, and what animals they were able to hunt. They spent two years in Kendles, with his uncle serving as hired muscle for a peddler of narcotic substances, until said peddler was brutally stabbed and his uncle decided they had to leave. After that, it was back to the woods.

Overall, it was a rather unconventional childhood.

Eventually, when Gerick was sixteen, things had grown exceptionally desperate. It was in the middle of winter; no forage was available, and they had been having terrible luck in their hunts. And one day, his uncle simply didn't wake up.

He was on his own after that, with nothing to do but wander aimlessly. All he had to remember his family was the aged flute once played by his sister, and the bow once wielded by his uncle, yet even when he held those objects close they still felt like distant memories. The bow was eventually broken and lost during a fight with brigands on the road, but he kept the flute. Although he would occasionally visit other settlements or temporarily join other groups, he lacked regular companionship, and quickly fell into the habit of talking to himself. Remembering the man his uncle used to be, he even took to making jokes about his circumstances, as a way of coping with the pain of it all, and he became increasingly numb to the hardship of life.

Because of his tragic past and his eerie demeanor, one might think Gerick is a broken man. But this isn't quite true. He has, despite everything that has happened, kept himself alive. While he has done some unsavoury things, he has never turned to banditry or unjustified murder like many others have. He may complain and appear unmotivated, yet his complaints are somewhat insightful, and his lack of motivation has rarely stopped him from doing what needed to be done.

There is still potential for him to recover, or to become something greater. He just needs a push in the right direction - something that can restore his spirits, or give him a higher purpose. Yet there is also potential for failure - after all, everyone has a snapping point.

Also: his favourite food is a hallucinogenic mushroom. He doesn't have a problem. Shut up.

Skills:
Strength: A Man among Men (2)
Reflexes: Reflexes of a Mantis (4)
Fortitude: Skin of Paper (1)
Intellect: Quick (3)
Wisdom: Straightforward (2)
Willpower: Plenty of Will (3)

His most memorable moment is, of course, his village being butchered.

@Not Fishing

You have stats completed but listed no skills! Otherwise its looking good.

Also, the OOC is up: roleplayerguild.com/topics/178561-gri…

Grisaille Genesis

I'd like to throw my interest in if there's still some room!

@Vox

Sure why not, send a CS my way!

Grisaille Genesis

@Adorablesaucer
@Dracolunaris
@Oraculum
@Lexicon

Okay, I am now accepting CS's. Take your time, OOC goes up probably after the first is accepted. IC after the fourth.