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9 yrs ago
Current Why is ecology so dry...

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20 year old skinny asian living in Australia. Nothing much to say really. Despiser of the YOLO generation. Acts more like a crochety old man. Has two dogs. Pets them a lot and applies the same logic to humans too.

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Those are just examples of beastmen. We have a bear running rampant right now for example. As for the spellsword i assume you read the magic section?
So after a relatively short period, life has devoured most of our players, or they have simply just unfortunately disappeared. This roleplay is now seeking fresh blood to join us in the story. The basic premise is that we are captured gladiators forced to fight for our (eventual) freedom. Clicheed, yes, but FUN cliche.



"In this world filled with death and blood...what better way to relax than watching others shed their blood and die?"
-Lucius Malleus, History of the Arena



The continent of Arkreides is a cesspool of violence, each race discontent with each other for even the most minor of infractions. The otherwise pacifistic elves wage an incessant war against the industrious dwarves in the eastern Myrian forests while waves of orcs and humans crash against each other in the far northern wastes. Caught up in all of this are the beastmen whose nomadic lifestyle often brings them into conflict with the other factions. This near constant conflict brings in a steady flow of very specific commodities. Grieving mothers, corpses and, of course, slaves. But one can only have so many domestic slaves until all work is done, so what can you do with the excess? Why pit them against each other in mortal combat for your entertainment of course!

What started as backalley duels between wealthy families soon evolved into a nationwide sport for Humans once they realised they could make a pretty denar for charging people to watch this bloodshed. This practice soon spread to the nearby war-like orcs who relished these fights and the opportunity to beat slaves into a pulp for their own entertainment (not that they didn't already do so). Suffice to say most orc gladiators are not slaves, rather they are trained pit fighters. Over time, arena fights spread to almost all major nations, even the elves who used these fights to settle matters with as little bloodshed as possible, using selected champions to settle political matters. These days arenas are more regulated, with fighter training requiring a specific license. Those who hold these licenses are called the 'Lanista', people who hold the keys to the shackles of dozens of trained fighters, and yet somehow still maintain control over them, whether through respect, fear or otherwise.

Arena fights are not only simply pitting slaves against each other, no, there is so much more to it. Sometimes these slaves may be thrown into a pit with ferocious beasts or forced to reenact famous battles of those peoples' history, but by far the most popular are the simulated environments, pitting teams of slaves against each other in a fabricated environment. That ends our brief history lesson children, tis time for lunch. Remember your hats.

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Races:











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Magic:

Magic is a gift given to very few and for good reason, for those who possess this ability and misuse it are the most terrible threats. These mages are able to discern faint shimmering strings hanging in the air, attaching to everything, although individuals are tuned towards specific elements. Nascent mages may dismiss these faint strings as simple tricks of the light but those that know how to use them are extremely dangerous. These 'fate strings' dictate everything about their environment. Those attuned to fire can see the strings which control the climate while those attuned to the air can see the strings as they enter a person's body. Of course, those can see them can also alter them, given some assistance. Utilising special gloves or staves, these mages can 'weave' these strings to create something else. The aforementioned fire mages may pull together fire strings to create an excrutiatingly hot fire ball and throw it, or an air mage can suffocate his opponent by simply pulling the air strings away.

While sounding and being fantastic, the use of these fate strings often has long lasting effects. They say the cold, frozen northern wastes which the orcs now inhabit was once a desert wasteland...which turned into a winter wasteland when their shamans discovered their primitive version of fate weaving early in their inception as a civilisation. Their flames acted as beacons for their people, but at the same time they used up more of the flame strings than could regenerate until eventually they exhausted most of the naturally occuring strings, creating their now sub zero hell. That being said, the opposite can be seen in the Myrian Forest where the elves dwell. Their powerful magics were mostly held in check and instead of using it to combat their dwarven enemies, they used it to encourage growth, creating a luscious forest within years and increasing the density of earth based strings in the forest (which they then use to combat their dwarven enemies).


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Notable Locations:

Capital Cities:









Human Cities:













Orcish Cities:



Elvish Cities:

Dwarven Cities:

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Historic Events:


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TO THE INTEREST CHECKIMABOB!
If this goes through should I bring them to the bandit encampment?
A single voice stopped him in his tracks. Turning his head back, he gave Arthyra a lazy half smile before turning around slowly and striding up until he was an arms length away. "We bandits ourselves have no use for money," he said as he folded his arms under his cloak, "but...your other offer doesn't sound too bad."
"Archie, she wouldn't survive 10 minutes in the forest," reprimanded a fiery voice from behind him.
"You're assuming we'd leave her alone," piped up another, "a healer is too precious an asset to be left wandering."
"And old Payle IS getting a bit senile..." murmered a quiet voice.
As his little band continued to banter, Archibald's single eye never left Arathyra's own, locking their gazes together. All the while, his half smile continued to dominate his face. Finally, he blinked and shook his head. "Elfie is right," he said as he opened his cloak to reveal a small clay pot which he dipped his ungloved fingers into before moving them to his mouth, a long trail of viscous honey-like liquid trailing behind it. Taking a moment to chew it like cud, he continued. "Just from looking at you I can tell you wouldn't last more than a day with our lifestyle," he said with a small shrug. He gave a moment for that to sink in. "However," he said afterwards, "though i like your sincerity," he looked over to the nobles who were already colluding amongst themselves. Typical nobleman fashion. "It looks like your companions do not agree with your course of action." He took a few steps back and gave her a half-apologetic smile. "Sorry, but your little lordlings don't want our help."

Two words stopped him in his tracks as he turned to leave. Sacred. Stone. His joking smile disappeared and his single eye dilated as he afixed it onto Alvin. He had heard legends of it, of its duty in the protection of the land. And now it was being moved? He started to chew slower. "You may know these woods like the back of your finely manicured hand," Archibald said as he again signalled for his band to stop, walking towards the Prince, "but you don't know these roads like a bandit's." The closer he got, the stronger the right side of his face twitched under the curtain of hair. At first he had just thought that it was the natural reaction he had to nobility but now...he was certain...it was much, much more. "The forests you hunt in are now crawling with Jehannen mercenaries, specifically the Dagger Guild, the Broken Blades and the Jagged Teeth," he said, drawing on the information his scouts had given him yesterday morning, "you wouldn't make it halway to Renais before you were run down like dogs." He stopped before it became physically sickening for him to be in the Royal's presence.
"Show me the stone."
We could try recruiting now I guess.
Unless we find more characters, unfortunely no. We could turn it into a 1x1 if you want.
Well thats depressing. Oh well...At least I can keep working on this world and keep it for future use.
For your ambient pleasure:

http://tabletopaudio.com/

Choose the medieval battle option
As soon as the Rose of Ilya turned away from Yuu, she barely had enough time to put up herbeam saber to block an intense strike from the Ravager. "How greedy, taking two partners madamoiselle!" Gerard taunted as he put all of his momentum and power behind that single blow, causing the already damaged surface of the axe to creak under the impact, "surely you have not forgotten about moi?" The sudden stop of the force sent both of them shooting away into space but the white MAS superior speed let it restabilise itself and commence an attack with Gerard was hard pressed to match. Used to the feeling of double handing his axe, the frenchman grunted as he used his shortened ravager to parry the rapid stings of the beam saber, though he felt more than a few of the attacks strike home against armour plates, leaving scorching piles of slag in their place. With another strike, Gerard put the Rose on the defensive, driving the edge of his axe against her beam saber.

"E-Echo, M-Marauder, Williams..enroute." Ari's voice chimed in through his comms. "Stay out of this rookie!" Gerard shouted as he renewed his attack, slamming the axe down again against the beam saber, "you are not ready for this yet!" With that split moment of concentration laxed, the rose broke free, too wily of an opponent to not require all of Gerard's attention. "Merde!" he shouted as she boosted away from him, before firing her damnable cannon again. Using the head of his axe, he dissipated her attacks against it, but it left it a melted pile of slag. A series of rather uncharacteristic French swears began to filter past his lips as he discarded what remained of the ravager. Ripping the Scattergun from its holster, he racked it and began to boost after her. He would not let this bitch get away.
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