Isotope

This Dark Age of Ours

Petaxaleena

The Illustrious Kingdom of Petaxaleena

Claim and Regions

Description:

In ancient days Petaxaleena was a province of the elves great domain, but from that time little has survived. The men of Petaxaleena were, and remain, hardy folk accustom to life farming soggy fields of the south; the departure of their overlords all those centuries ago meant little to them. Unlike Lorea or the many other regions both Humans and Elves cohabited it is largely only pure blood Humans that remain in Petaxaleena, a side effect of the harshness of the country and the rather unsettling wildlife that resides there.

However, there exist two notable exceptions. The first being the Elves of Gorstir. Situated deep in the southwest of the country Gorstir's Elves are the last remnants of those that once ruled Petaxaleena. They are mostly left to themselves, bound to the crown through a sacred compact but otherwise... Inconsequential. The second exception is that of the nobility itself. Concentrated in the nations northern reaches, below the great mountains that separate Petaxaleena from the rest of the east, the noble class has long sought to preserve the Elven blood in their veins. In most cases this has been accomplished through careful breeding, but the most charismatic of the nobility have found ways to seduce Elven brides. More than just blood, the nobility has almost nothing in common with those they rule over. The Great Lords of Petaxaleena worship the old gods Kepa and Ele, the sun and moon, whereas the common folk worship ill defined gods of harvest and the wild.

Of course the nobility might well worship the gods of the wild too, if they spent any time in the south. Among the swamps and fields of that godforsaken region there are real monsters, wicked beasts that spend their time in the water only to come up when they hunger for flesh. Every year the families of those crippled or killed by the beasts demand action from the nobles living their pampered lives in their resplendent castles, and every year they are mocked for the presumption. The monsters cannot be a problem unless the nobility says they are, of course.

In reality the nobles know they could never really end the beasts. The ancient elves doubtless tried, as did a dozen forgotten kings, none even came come to eradicating the scourge. Why waste lives more than are already lost? Peasants may be easily replaced, but to lose a whole generation in the foolish effort to extinguish the ancient beasts of the south would be catastrophic. Petaxaleena has never been rich, despite its size, to lose the workforce would be to lose the entire nation to anarchy and chaos.

In recent times though, the menace has been... Reduced. The beasts of the east, ever longing for a challenge, extended their services in exchange for a fortress in Petaxaleena and the chance to recruit a limited number of peasants, for an army it was all too easy an offer. Their valiant efforts rid the world of countless beasts, not enough, but still. For the first time in centuries the population of Petaxaleena has exploded as peasants start families without fear and clear land further into the swamps than was imaginable. The nobility knows that, in time, the beasts will replenish their numbers, but the luxury the boost in taxes has permitted them was well worth the bargain with the strange creatures of the eastern reaches.

Tear the World Down

@YungTweakShame to see you go!

@SierraStill around? Haha. Don't put off sleep to read the ic man. :p

Tear the World Down

Edited my post a little bit towards the end if anyone is interested in that sort of thing.

Tear the World Down

Lol. By the way @Sierra I sent you another pm :)

Also nice posts all!

Tear the World Down

Got a post out.

It's not as... Colorful, but hey.

Tear the World Down

The End of The Beginning

Jeshkan, Library of the Great Lord Tersh Dimeh’s Estate

The soft sound of her quill filled the library, the gentle scratches echoing off the domed ceiling in the absence of other noise. She sat at a desk all but covered in documents, new and old, decaying and freshly penned; the clutter was such that those papers and scrolls on the edges of her workspace were distant enough to receive only the dimmest remnants of the light that shone from the lonely lantern above her. Chaos to some, but Meera knew what was what. It was that eye to the details, after all, that had allowed her to rise to where she was.

Or rather, return there. Scribe, it was a simple job, a meagre payment for what she’d done for the Great Lord, but of course you don’t reward assassins with glory do you? Of course what the buffoon she served these days handed to her didn’t really matter. The real payment had been in the satisfaction in knowing that the last eighteen brutal years of her life hadn’t come to nothing, in knowing that the man who’d damned her and her mother was finally dead. In some ways she regretted not being there for it, but the gossip was enough. The former Great Lord of the estate had died in unthinkable agony, unable to scream even as his body ate itself from the inside out, instead merely writhing in a pain beyond what most could conceive of.

So here she was, copying mouldy scrolls in the dark of the night under the light of a lantern wholly inadequate for the task. It was, she considered, a peaceful respite. There were no lies here, no stakes beyond the smudging of ink. Here she was the ultimate power. Even if that power was over pen strokes. In another world, another life, she’d have contented herself with this blissful tedium forever, secure in the knowledge her life's work had been completed. In another world she wouldn’t have had that first dream all those years ago.

She’d worked her way up to the position of senior maid for a wealthy merchant family when she'd started having the dreams. At first they were vague, images of those she’d killed, warm feelings and words reassuring her that it would all be worth it. That everything she’d done had been justified. Over time they grew explicit, telling her where opportunities might arise, how to ingratiate herself to those she worked for and tended to. There had been a time when she thought her life of toil, the endless scheming, the work and the lies, had finally driven her mad. That time passed when she started to listen to what the dreams were telling her.

Perhaps if she’d not been so tired from the labours of her job she’d have noticed the details herself, but they were all there. The way the man of the house tended to get nervous when she cleaned certain cabinets, the way his wife treated him when he returned from his trips abroad. Cracks in the domestic life of the rich she could use as leverage to pull herself above the rest of the throng. The more she listened to the dreams the faster she rose in the world, and soon enough she was a lowly servant of the Great Lord she had spent the better part of her time on the world planning her revenge on.

The dreams had just been that, dreams. At least until the day she slipped the poison in the wine another girl had been ferrying to the Lord. The moment she heard word of that greatest evil in her life having been finally burned from the world like the scourge he was, she also heard the voice from her dreams while awake. It spoke softly, but with intensity. It urged her not to fall into idleness, it reminded her that what had been done to her was not something a single life in tribute would wipe away.

In time the voice revealed its name, Akat. Akat spoke of truth, of the cruelty behind every smile, the filth behind nobility and humility alike. Meera listened, and came to agree. Kindness and charity, she knew better than most that these were simple manipulations. Some deluded themselves into thinking otherwise, but she knew that every man, woman, and child had sinned and in their arrogance deemed themselves righteous anyway. The Great Lord who’d accused her father, his son, every bystander, every single life in Jeshkan, they all thought themselves the hero in their pathetic little stories.

Soon enough Akat came to speak of power, the power to ensure that nothing and no one could hurt Meera again, the power to do what needed to be done. The world was replete with delusion, it would never change unless it was forced to. Someone had to show people who they really were, beneath it all.

So now, as she copied letters stoke by stoke, she listened to the voice again. The melodies of Akat’s voice both demanded attention and soothed as ‘she’ spoke in Meera’s head, "The time for idleness is over child. That which you seek, which we seek, is not here. We must leave this land and make for the monument, for Silverwick."

Meera smiled, “The fallen city? How dramatic of you, though I suppose it is appropriate. I have enjoyed this short peace, but we can't dally forever can we? If it's time then it's time; we'll depart at first light, Akat.”

She put the quill aside and snuffed out the lanterns pitiful light. In the darkness of the library she was merely a shadow, but as she made her way through the dark halls she noted that she wasn’t the only one there. Allies she could truly rely on, ones devoid of pretension, flanked her as she opened the recessed door leading into her room. Akat had been generous, the least Meera could do was ride to the site of one of her partners greatest triumphs to help her with the next.

Tear the World Down

Weeeeeee!

It'll take about two posts for Meera to reach Silverwick, got some stuff to cover.

Looking forward to seeing how our little gaggle of baddies get along.

Tear the World Down

Meera Kaes

{{ FEMALE || 28 }}

APPEARANCE

Meera is a young human woman, notable for her substantial height. Unlike most of her people, whose hair grows almost universally black, Meera’s hair has a light brown colour she inherited from her father alongside her unusual green eyes. Her skin is also a tad lighter than the norm, but still a deep olive indicative of her origins. On the whole her appearance might be described as comely, though domestic. She is a far cry from the beautiful women taken as wives by the great lords, her crooked nose and somewhat gangly build alone marking that distinction.

BIOGRAPHY

Meera’s life began when her father, the mercenary fifth son of an ancient bloodline, settled down in Jeshkan. What compelled the man to end his long journey in one of the most desolate and unyielding climes the world over Meera would often wonder, her mother was far from a great prize herself, but perhaps she was enough. In the end her father joined the personal guard of a prominent lord, and Meera came about not long after. For ten years she was happy, her family one of the very few who ate full meals and never suffered the harshness of the Jeshkan sun; but it was not to last. Her father died in his duties, but in a cruel twist of fate he perished only after the great lord he served had been mortally wounded in the attempt on his life. Knowing his end was near he blamed and cursed the guard who’d failed him, and when the great lords son came to succeed him the boys first act was to put Meera and her mother in chains.

What came next was a blur, but perhaps mercifully one. Prisoners in Jeshkan are wasted water and food, so to live in chains is to live under the whip, at work for your captors. In the beginning that was all it was, work. Yes it was endless work, and there was pain, thirst, and hunger under a scorching sun that seemed to eat at her every day, but it was mercy compared to what came after. According to the work chief there were better uses for a passably pretty girl. By the time her supposed sentence was up she was nineteen, her mother was dead from starvation, and she was a husk among a throng of those just like her. Perhaps it would have been better if there had been truly nothing left of her.

Alas, she was not so lucky. She had known what it was like to live above the filth, and she knew who had taken that from her. Meera had been hollowed out, but among all the depredations of those who’d tormented her, none had robbed her of the hate and yearning that boiled her blood on the coldest of nights. For a time she returned to the work, the simple and comforting humiliation of labour for the slimmest of rewards. After it all it was bliss for her, but bliss with greater purpose. Organizing it took more humiliation yet, but she managed to ingratiate herself with one of the largest labour gangs among forsaken who toiled in the sun.

She earned their trust, and exploited it. Money for reporting on their activities, money from skimming, all things she knew she risked terrible punishment for, but punishment no worse than she was accustom to. Suffering was existence, and she had purpose enough to endure it. Eventually she had earned enough to bribe her way into a maids position, a life far more comfortable than most in Jeshkan, but not enough. Money was simple to steal, but the secrets of the great houses were far more valuable. Years passed, and in time she had accrued enough favour to earn a place in the household of the lord who’d once condemned her to the life she’d suffered through.

Years of toil, and in one moment—after excruciating months in the lords service—she took her revenge. A simple drop of poison in the wine another was preparing him, a flick of the wrist, and the pendulum began to swing. On some level she was prepared to die, but what good was revenge if you only tasted it once? She wanted more, or else she’d have never framed the other girl.

The lord died in agony, and the girl who’d served him followed suit. Meera, so far as anyone cared, was just another serving girl who hardly knew the traitor. It was mere coincidence that the lords heir and uncle rewarded her for her service a year later and elevated her from servant to the nondescript, but distinguished, role of scribe. To have her as a maid would have been a waste of a literate girl, after all.

Some would say that her return to society was miraculous, impossible without help, and perhaps she’d had some after all.

SKILLS

-- Quick Hand

Meera has survived on her skills, and in the beginning the ability to make a coin disappear, or a knife do the opposite, saved her many, many times.

-- Sly Tongue

Lies are life. One learns that quickly among the poor of Jeshkan, but not all embrace it. Meera has lied for so long that she may not even know, or possibly care, what the truth really is. Her manipulations allowed her to fulfill her first purpose. Surely they’ll help her the second time around.

WEAPONS

-- A Poisoned Dagger

Meera may not have needed it in the end, but she had needed it before. This simple dagger has dimples along its length, each one with a hardened wax laced with a different deadly poison in it.

AKAT THE WICKED

{{ FEMALE }}

A Silver Ring

Meera has been deprived of almost all she once had, but this ring is perhaps the one thing that remains of her father. It is worn and scratched to the point any original pattern it had is long gone, it fits none of her fingers, and all the same she would gladly kill to keep it on the simple brass necklace she had made a short year ago.

PERSONALITY

It is hardly surprising that Akat choose Meera, for they both value life itself below their revenge. For Akat the act was legendary, and profoundly excessive. Why she came to hate the Teferi family is unknown, though some speculate it was as simple as an unrequited love or a slight no more or less severe than any noble would have directed towards a commoner. Whatever the reason Akat set about the task of exterminating one of the oldest, largest, and most beloved noble families in her home country. By the time she was done her vengeance had expanded to the point that those even moderately involved with the dead family were being hunted by unimaginable beasts.

With that grand retribution carried out she looked further, towards all of mankind, and saw there was more to be done. That which had moved her to vengeance was being played out across the word, again and again. Human beings, despite their all but universal claims of righteousness, seemed to default to their animal instincts regardless of their rank or prior deeds. So long as people refused to see the manipulative intent behind their actions, they would continue to act in ways that demanded retribution. To this end Akat began to make examples of the common folk and nobility alike. Her victims were forced to admit their sins, all of them, and subjected to whatever cruel and imaginative punishments she devised. In the beginning she only wished to demonstrate the universal guilt of mankind, to expose the human animal for the liar it was so that in time it could grow into something greater and nobler. In the end she only wished to see men and women scream. Her cruelty became legendary as she subjected entire villages to mock trials and forced every single resident to admit to a lifetime of lies and misdeeds before she slaughtered them one by one. Her great ambition had become an excuse for her to take out a frustration even a river of blood would not wash away.

SKILLS

-- Bloody Confession

Akat can grant Meera the ability to compel individuals to admit their sins, and in the act inflict twisted punishments on themselves for each confession.

-- Those Who’ll Never Betray You

Akat made frequent use of otherworldly and terrifying creatures when she terrorized the world, and in some small ways she has conferred this power onto Meera. Meera can summon shadow like reflections of awful and bizarre creatures who, while largely incapable of inflicting injury, make perfect spies. It may be that in time her power to bring them into this realm in totality will grow.

Tear the World Down - Dark Fantasy Done Differently

Wowzers, we might actually get to the player cap haha.

This Dark Age of Ours

Aiiiight