Boreas is a world ruled by Highprinces without armies, their arsenals restricted to venomous words, blades in the dark and contracted guilds. Forbidden from recruiting soldiers by the powerful, if isolated, island nation of Miram to the East, the Highprinces hire guilds of Powder Mages to steal, raid and guard against their neighbours and rivals all under the guise of civility towards one another so as not to bring Miram's unstoppable armies down upon them once again.
Powder Mages, uncommon but not rare, are those who posses a Flare; an ability unique to each individual which can only be born into existence by the consumption of Adamant. This is a powder distributed to registered guilds from Miram Fields to the East. With no other way to gain this empowering substance many would-be Powder Mages join a guild for this express purpose while others do so to earn a wage, the gaining of power a mere happenstance on the way to a reliable income and possible celebrity.
Over the two centuries since an enduring, but uneasy, peace was forced upon Boreas, guilds have proliferated exponentially until they number in the hundreds, varying in size from a a small band to several hundred members. Each have gained a character and reputation based on the jobs they are willing to carry out, their Masters having to tread the path between keeping the contracts coming without earning the ire of the wrong Highprince. Many consider themselves righteous, only accepting contracts of a just, or at the very least a legal, nature. Others are openly known to indulge in orgies of violence and destruction at their employer’s request but must do so in as clandestine and deniable a manner as possible lest Miram cut off their supply of all important Adamant and leave them powerless or, worse, bring down the Smith enforces upon themselves.
Vale Craft Guild makes it home nestled into the rocky cliffs overlooking the port city of Dilei and the emerald sea beyond. Peculiarly, they have no interest in Powder Mages of repute, either good or bad, and are only interested in new blood. Known to be neutral in nature, declining the most bloodstained of jobs but otherwise happy to enter into most any other contract, they are a growing guild training up some skilled Mages and have easy access to Adamant through the port whereas many guilds must risk importing it inland. Most sensible guilds and bandits would avoid robbing a shipment of Adamant but some unregistered Powder Mages become desperate enough to do anything that will keep their Flare alive.
The Master is often absent, engaging in politics known only to her and leaving the running of the guild to a couple of trusted lieutenants who seem both entirely competent and totally harassed by the demands of their position. A new haul of recruits is due to be enrolled, keen to have the guild’s black feather emblem tattooed onto their body to proudly display.
Rumours of a new, more direct, era of conflict between the Highprinces is spreading and how Vale Craft steers itself through these tumultuous seas will dictate whether it survives and thrives or is cast down into the forgotten annals of history, destroyed down to the last mage.
Greetings and welcome to this interest check! If the above has interested you but you're looking for more information then please peruse the hiders below (they are in my note format, rather than full prose, so bear that in mind).
Hopefully the above gives you a clear idea of the format (at least, the beginning format) - your characters will be new entrants to the guild and will be placed into a group under the oversight of a more experienced Powder Mage to carry out contracts, there may be two groups based on how many join (groups are usually three or four). What those jobs are will be down a great deal to you, with some guidance from me (my idea is to have a 'jobs board' and we will roleplay the job choice out but this is very much up for thoughtful contributions). There is an over-arching plot but we will get into that gradually.
A lot of the world of Boreas is flexible and organic - I have some ideas and some structure in place but I want to collaborate with everyone to create a living and breathing world, allowing everyone to write as they wish. There will be some off-limits places/NPCs, of course, for future plot purpose and some of the geographical/historical features are ones I would like to keep in place but I'd be most interested in thoughts as we progress through the RP.
Rules... I hope I don't need to go into them as they're largely uniform across the roleplaying sites and I expect people to be mature and sensible (read: this is not synonymous with boring). Any queries, please give me a shout below.
Oh, and activity wise I'm understanding of situations. I'd like a post a week (this is aiming for Advanced, after all) but the key for me is keeping in contact and letting myself and others know what the situation is; there's nothing worse than someone simply vanishing (we might do a Discord chat or something to aid communication).
Below are some of my notes on the world and some wider explanations. Much of this is up for creative input and is not in full prose but it should be clear enough if you wanted to read further.
Adamant is a substance close to gunpowder in appearance and feel but tastes and smells very differently. It also lacks the explosive quality of gunpowder. If damp it loses some of its effect (water literally washes away its potency) so needs to be carried in protective packs. A small pouch, similar to one that most carry coins in, would be enough for an hour’s continuous and extensive use of most abilities (varies on the ability).
The powder cannot be consumed ahead of time - it follows usual digestive timescales and can be poisonous if not used and when left in the stomach. It can also become addictive if used extensively along with other more dangerous side-effects (burn out or the exact opposite in extreme cases).
Powder Mage abilities can vary from 'common' themes such as the ability to create fire at will or more complex abilities such as a form of clairvoyance, this is their Primary Flare. All Powder Mages also gain small but significant increases to their basic athleticism, this is known as Secondary Flare, again varying in conjunction with their power (someone whose Primary Flare is large/powerful will have a correspondingly weaker Secondary Flare as more Adamant is left over for it).
Largely medieval in weapons technology with some basic muskets becoming popular although very expensive. Most guardsmen will still wield halberds or spears, even if they own a musket.
Most energy has gone into economic advances with unpowered factories coming into existence and tests on the first trains being run between Dilei and Abraxashesperios but not yet available to the public.
Life is still distinctly feudal with the Highprinces kings in their own cities, their own bodyguards as well as forces to guard their cities but no armies capable of assault another Highprince’s lands. Poverty is fairly rampant but life is better than it might have been even for the poorest because of the lack of war and relatively rampant advances in social and economic technology.
Adamant cannot be sold and can only be bought by registered guilds. They work with ambassadors from Miram who are present in every major city who will arrange for it to be delivered in quantities relevant to the size of the guild. Those who try to buy or sell it illegally will be found by agents of Miram and dealt with, even Highprinces.
Miram employs people entitled ‘Smiths’ who are able to sense Adamant and can consume it like Powder Mages but simply gain increased physical capabilities. They are trained to fight Powder Mages and act as law enforcement. Some are on loan to each Highprince to keep rogue guilds in check but how many actually exist in total is unknown.
There are over a hundred different guilds, varying in size from just a dozen or so members to several hundred. Guilds can be deregistered if Miram is displeased with their activities, these will often attempt to steal a shipment of Adamant to continue on but Highprinces will not publically deal with them, for fear of angering Miram. Vale Craft sits near the high end with between a hundred and two hundred members although a large number of them are ‘inactive’, retired but remaining to advise the younger members coming in. Cities often ‘sponsor’ their resident guilds to ward off the illicit activities of other, hostile guilds but the resident guilds are not obligated to do so unless specifically hired.
The main island consists of tundra and savanna in the inland areas running in a north-west to south-east direction while the coastal areas are generally grassland and more fertile. Regis and Miram are both very fertile lands, Miram is particularly difficult to get to as the seas are very rough and they have neglected to share their charts with anyone else.
Blount to the south-west is the most isolated of all cities and is generally regarded as holy and a sight for pilgrimage. It’s surrounded by tundra and is vastly colder than the main island. Tikanddryi (south-east) is a stopping off point used by ships from Miram and exists almost solely as a seaport and nothing else.
Bidlip to the north-east is an abandoned city, a former Miram outpost used to keep an eye on the large island until it was no longer necessary. The people all left in an orderly manner, taking all records with them however the city itself still stands, if somewhat dilapidated. Criminals usually try to escape here to avoid justice being served.
Regis Hill and Guise sell crops to the central island, constantly in dispute with one another over the particularly fertile lands between the two cities but a string of mountains provide a semi-natural barrier between the two and is commonly accepted as the unofficial border.
Hatkadedyet was considered the capital once, a neutral city ruled by a Senate rather than a Highprince and once said to be the seat of an Emperor but that was centuries ago, long enough that no one much cares for such tales any longer. Now it is home to scholars, thanks to its legacy of lawyers and educated citizens, with the Grand Mausoleum nearby giving it a certain prestige despite its decline. A river heading to Nawade is navigable by small cargo ships and makes the city more accessible than it might otherwise have been.
Nawade largely survives from its tariffs on all traffic heading to the old capital and was built to protect the capital from sea-based attackers. It has diversified with a growing industry of animal farming.
Rynalem is a small coastal city, a stopping off point after Barclaybend with vicious storms often battering the coast between the two settlements. Largely subsisting off its inns and taverns, the city has a growing tourist trade and supports this with barley and other hops for ale.
Barclaybend is fed by commerce from Carneylem and Aoifetreba, exacting tariffs for sea access with cargo being shipped downriver to it.
Carneylem mines the mountains to the south for coal and iron, allowing steel to be produced. It also has some managed herds but the savannah is not great for highly organised grazing.
Aoifetreba makes jewellery, mining gems and silver in the massive mountain regions to the north-east, importing gold from Telmaorphninos upriver and then shipping to Barclaybend for exports.
Limenhypselos specialises in lumber and quarrying although both materials are easily found in other city regions. They send large excess amounts to other cities as well as crafting with the raw materials, making elaborate furniture and statues.
Napegeraios grazes its herds on the land just to the north-east, made fertile by a river delta, particularly sheep and then making textiles from the wool. These are shipped to Abraxashesperios for dyeing or other customisation, the more basic products being sold directly.
Abraxashesperios is becoming the centre of the known world, the closest mainland city to Miram and also easily supplied with livestock and grain by the Regis island. It leads fashion, its artisans using the raw materials from Napegeraios and creating increasinly absurd but creative designs. For the reason, and its proximity to the East, has made it the new unofficial capital, a neutral zone but unlike Hatkadedyet it is ruled by a Highprince in their own right, not a neutral Senate.
As was her custom, Valette had made herself relatively unnoticeable; shrinking into corners and standing far back from other groups to avoid unintended interaction. It was partly her nature as a former cutpurse, stalking her target and observing their habits and movements for some time before striking. Of course, it took longer to rob someone that way but she had gone unnoticed and free for years, thanks to her cautiousness, before finally being caught by the Vasel Town Watch. That had been poor luck on her part, with everyone on edge about the invasion the Town Watch had been on the lookout for spies and had spotted her tailing a well-to-do gentleman.
Mostly it was to do with her Darcsen heritage, though. Going unnoticed was better with her race's history. Being noticed usually meant insults and physical abuse being hurled her way and she was sure the suspicion around Darcsens was what had led the Town Watch to be initially curious about her activities the day she was caught. Either way, it had led her here and, by some strange twist in fortune, she had been given the rank of Corporal and her wages, meagre though they were, were sufficient to keep her extended family afloat back in Vasel. It was honest work and it would keep them safe so, for now at least, she was pleased with the development.
Having been ordered to report to the Northern depots for their CO's introduction she had hung back outside the workshop, watching some of the other squad members arrive from under the luxurious shade of an oak tree, one of the few left in the HQ with most having being ripped up to make space for tents, warehouses and other depots. She had decided that many of the conscripts looked very young although those in her squad appeared a little older than the average with some close to her own age but few appeared older. Either the older generations had avoided conscription or they had already headed to the battlefield and, presumably, perished.
Happy that she would not be the centre of attention when she arrived, Valette stepped out from the shadow of the oak and crossed the tarmac to the workshop, slipping in through the doors quietly. Having grown up on the streets she was used to moving quietly and smoothly, another testament to her less fortuitous upbringing being the knife hidden up her sleeve for that rare, close-quarters emergency although she envisaged few of those coming up.
The two tanks immediately caught her attention, one very clearly being a brand new model while the other looked well beaten with some non-standard and, quite frankly, desperate looking modifications. Frowning in disapproval, and worry, at the lack of proper materials apparently being made available to the militia, she crossed the workshop floor to join her fellow squadmates milling around. She nodded to a couple, seeking out the Sergeant she was second to and, feeling awkward at the unfamiliar movement, saluted him.
"Corporal Royeaux, I'm your second, sir."
It was simple but what more could she say? She was clearly a Darcsen and had no military experience so there was nothing more to say. She definitely was not going to bring up the reason for her conscription until it was relevant, especially with so many people, whom she might have to give orders to, around them. Life was going to be hard enough in the Militia as a Darcsen, let alone a Darcsen known to be a former thief.
A mad plan. Suicidal in nature, some might say, but it was the only way out for the surviving soldiers of Trost. They descended into a pit of hell where towering monsters dozed. Some made it to the gas supplies before they were noticed and the Titans began to awaken to their visitors, slowly lumbering towards the desperate soldiers pelting their way between the lift which had brought them to that death filled basement and the tubes which held their salvation.
Brave hearts all, they gradually filled up their cannisters, distracting and slaying Titans in equal measure to ensure their fellows could do the same but there were more and more Titans and fewer and fewer of them.
Captain Alice 'Al' Hart
"Well, ain't this just a right fucking mess?"
Titan blood still steamed from her clothes and cloak as she entered the armoury, stepping around the corpses lining the hallways of Trost's Garrison HQ to find the armoury, the place where she had heard the cries of battle and death. Behind her two members of the Survey Corps, she did not know their names, carried between them a downcast looking garrison soldier who avoided meeting anyone's eyes.
They'd returned to Trost to find the main gate cracked open and Titans freely roaming its streets. Abandoning their steeds and using their Gear to reach the top of the Wall the expedition had split into two groups, most heading with the Commander to find whoever was leading the Garrison forces and the other heading into Trost itself for intel and survivors, nominally under Alice's leadership. As one who did not care for command, Alice let the various officers below her organise the men and had contented herself with slaughtering Titan's in her path before the garrison soldier had been brought to her, having refilled his cannisters at HQ and then fled, leaving his fellows behind to whatever fate.
"Looks like y'all have got a bit of grit in you." She walked through the survivors, noting most of them were cadets with a small minority of Garrison soldiers standing amongst their number. There were wounded scattered around the room but, as always with combat with Titans, they were fewer than one might expect; most who were wounded by a Titan never escaped let alone have a chance to treat their wounds. Jumping up onto a pile of crates so that she could look over the gathering soldiers she gazed at their faces, seeing the determination to fight and survive there; these were soldiers who had gotten over the initial shock of facing a Titan and would still fight, at least until the terror truly hit them. Or until they were dead. Either way, they could be put to good use.
She saw some emerging from the hole in the floor of the room, a lift shaft as she recalled, gasping with damaged and bloodied blades before looking down into the room below and returning to whatever fight was going on down there. Leaping of the crates, Alice bounded towards the hole and looked down, seeing the melee below and grinned as she saw one of the cadets' skill, dispatching a Titan all the while using little gas. All of the survivors down below looked to be above average, desperate and inexperienced but above the average cut she had seen over the last few years. They had survived this far, so of course they would be worth watching. Worth saving, so that more of the damn creatures could be exterminated.
"You lot, let's get these greenhorns out of there. The more the merrier." She stepped off the edge and down into the hole as a Titan passed below her, hands reaching for a cadet struggling with their newly refilled cannisters. Its hands grabbed the crying lad and he swung wildly at it with his blades but to no avail. Alice dropped past the Titan, lazily turning her fall into a spin and slicing the nape of the Titan as she passed. Felled, the lad was released and slotted his cannisters in with fumbling hands before, contrary to her expectations, turned back to the fight.
Looks like there'll be some decent candidates here. If they survive, that is.
Focussing her attention on the battle before her, she shot her hooks into a beam down the hall and reeled them in, stopping her descent from ending in a leg breaking fall, and instead shot past another Titan, cleanly slicing its nape before she chose another target, nearer the gas tubes the cadets were refilled from and headed off, her heart thudded in savage pleasure as her blades began to sing their sweet tale of hatred and death.
Female 5' 5" 25 (15th October 1911) Darcsen Born in Vasel
Appearance Valette is thin, the kind of thin only one who grew up on the streets in near-poverty can be thin. She is short of stature but after the initial rigours of the training camp she has a surprising amount of muscle on her athletic frame, enough to surprise those making the mistake of assuming her strength by her physique alone.
Her hair is the raven colour and her skin the paleness that is symbolic of the Darcsen race, to which she belongs. Her eyes are a deep blue and are usually calm, expressionless in the way many of the oppressed race have become to protect themselves. With a rounded chin edging towards pointed and an angular jaw line, accentuated by her lack of body fat, Valette stops short of looking bony but only just.
The uniform she wears is clearly a hand-me-down but fits well enough and is in good condition, the colour is merely faded a little but still obviously of the Gallian Militia. The insignia of her rank is the only thing new about her clothing, freshly sewn onto the chest, shoulders and collar of her uniform. Otherwise she has gone with very little customisation, merely small metal plates at her elbows and a hidden knife sewn into the sleeve of her coat.
She has, thus far, scrupulously avoided the pattern symbolic of the Darcsen people.
Personality Valette is honest and forthright in all her dealings although she has the nuance to avoid confrontation and keep the pace; she is, after all, a Darcsen and has had to learn such tact to get on in life. She is proud of her heritage but does not shout about it, knowing it will only bring hate and distrust down upon her. Loyal to a fault and caring of her comrades, Valette will take the fall and shield her teammates where possible.
Rank Corporal
Role Scout
Biography Born in Vasel to impoverished Darcsen parents, Valette was the third child although not the last in her family. Her parents lived with her mother's two sisters and their respective families in a single house far too small for their extended family. The older children were depended upon to earn a living for the family with two of the fathers no longer able to work, both injured in a mining accident in Fouzen years before.
Valette went to work early in life, falling into a bad crowd and earned a living as both a cutpurse and a grocer's assistant, out of sight of course. The eldest children all left home, starting families of their own making her parents and younger siblings and cousins further dependent on her meagre income until war broke out. Two days later she was finally caught thieving and conscripted into the militia to avoid any conviction; her income goes entirely to supporting her family in Vasel.
Affiliations Although a Darcsen, she bears no ill-will to those prejudiced against her race although she is proud of her heritage and infinitely protective of those suffering frequent abuse. Her family are in Vasel but beyond that she has formed no other connections thus far. She is loyal to Gallia for its, relatively, good treatment of Darcsens.
