Current
That was the worst three months of my life. Health is close to normal again. Here's to making the insurance company cry!
1
like
1 yr ago
"Your copay today is $20,000" How about no.
3
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3 yrs ago
Well, the "I am but an ally" to "queer af" pipeline is real.
Bio
I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.
I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.
That is a toss-up and a great question at the same time. As it stands someone is creating a unique race, and I was hoping our roster would be more of the normal fantasy ones with more of a focus on subraces and stuff like that. That being said I love fostering creativity. I have never had someone attempt a plant-based creature before. One thing I will say the story takes place, at the start in the cold of winter with overcast skies. I will have to see more information before I say one way or the other if that's okay?
I am constantly adding things in as they become available as this will serve as the foundation of the OOC as well, I will probably split into 2 posts to start the OOC to make it a bit less lengthy. One thing I have not brought up and wanted to share is the Kingdom section. Our story revolves around seven commanders/representatives sent from the seven kingdoms and in an effort to allow creativity I am allowing you to create your own kingdom. If you don't want to and want one created by me instead let me know. Not a lot of detail will be needed.
It was night time in the City of Ash and it was alive with revelry.
Every table in every bar on every street corner found itself packed with the smelly, sweating, and ravenous patrons one would expect for a night like tonight; for tonight was a night unlike any other. Today marked the anniversary of the horrid War of the Breech many centuries ago after all.
The patrons dug into their food with a rabid intensity as onlookers waited anxiously for their meals to arrive, jealously alive in their eyes, while the rest of the crowd drowned themselves, mug after mug, with the various alcoholic drinks available; mostly mead and Something Else, a local favorite. The floors looked as if they were assaulted by the God of Decay with half-eaten chickens and gods-knows-what else littering the floor while bile and unknown liquids poured forth like a torrent of awfulness. This was expected. This scene is one that many a soul has traveled to be seen. While in normal times owner would be appalled to see the state of his bar, the bartender looked on with a smile on hand for today was the day everyone celebrated, and nobody was upset. Unless of course, you knew better.
No one alive today experienced it yet the stories are still told, albeit seldom spoken in whole, by the bards and by the elders. They spin a tale of monsters of flesh and metal stalking the country-side, whole armies annihilated by great beasts of war, and of the gods returning to the mortal realm, saving us in our darkest time. They know the stories of many a great hero, many that died and fewer yet that lived, that helped curb the tide of the assault on the mortal races. They know the stories of all seven gods that still reside in our realm, placed in fortified temples where they have kept the shield up that prevents the creatures of nightmares from returning. They also know that today was never a day of celebration. Today, to them, is a day of remembrance. Remembering the errors of the all the races that led to the Breach, the errors of commanders who led their soldiers to slaughter, and the greed of the many who prayed on the few still living during it all. Today they remember and look on at the parties with a stern gaze and speak a cautionary tale to those who will listen.
It was such an elder who found himself sitting on a famous corner, deep in the heart of the City of Ash, judging the crowds from a distance. As he sat, he was approached by a young man in search of a tall tale. The man towered over the frail build of the elder, though he approached with a smile and asked if a seat next to the old man was taken, to which the old man responded no.
"I hear you know a story or two about the Breach Wars, old man," the towering individual asked as he sat down.
"Old man," the elder asked, "I'll have you know I am no older than your parents may be, are they so old to you?"
"I meant no disrespect, elder," the towering man said with a chuckle, "I am a student at the great magic school at Itos, and I and my fellow classmates have traveled far to this city to hear the tales of the war. I have been told you know a story or two, and I would like to know where we went wrong in the past."
"Not interested in the parties," quizzed the old man.
"No, especially not if I can learn something to tell my friends back home," the towering man responded.
The old man smiled weakly and pulled his posture straight as he did. "Perhaps there is hope for you youngin's after all," he responded with a wink. "Alrighty, this is a story of heroes who did not know they were such at the time, a story of the gods who gave up their immortal life to shield us, and it is a tale of the common folk who banded together and saved life as we know it. They came from all walks of life, some of the noble pursuits and some not, while the gods themselves were our most holy. The war was terrible in all accounts, but I will start my story off at where we started winning, right here in the City of Ash, three-hundred, and thirty-three years ago. The gods, now walking among us, used their divine powers to seal the breach and thus ending the never-ending flow of nightmares that stemmed forth like a raging river into our real-,, " the old man paused as his head tilted to the left, "realm, that started," pausing again, this time standing up, "what is that awful ruckus?," the old man stopped speaking.
The towering individual turned his head, the same direction the elder did seconds before, and listened. "Heyyyyy, I am soo not drunk guys – Where's my food – where are we- what did – for – somebody needs to -I think you've – did you grab my – what is the mean- how oft- wherein th-" The more the towering man listened, the less he heard and the less he understood. He turned his attention the old man, who was visibly shaking, and asked; "what do you hear old man?"
"Don't you hear it? The screaming," he answered back.
The towering man listened again, and this time he heard it; growing louder every second he did, the sounds of people panicking and shattering objects, blood-curdling screams that filled the nights' air only to be silenced, and he listened as it was getting closer and closer and closer. "Stay behind me elder," the towering man shouted as he stood up and his hands erupted into flames, "I will protect you," he promised. Though promise as he did, the towering man's voice was soon added to the melody of screams, as the chorus of horror began to fill the air and erupt throughout the City of Ash.
From miles around people could see the fires that raged that night, and even further could people see the plume of smoke that trailed over the horizon the next day.
A few days later the city Arcadia, located fifteen miles away, was attacked and destroyed. Then Sev’mo, and then Barin, and so on. Soon there-after reports of a new, smaller than the one told of in the history books, Breach was received by the Council of Seven, and the armies of the mortal realm were quickly mobilized. Any questions as to how this could have transpired under the watch of the Gods were quickly answered, as a God was missing. Without notice Rofella, Goddess of War, had vanished from her temple and disappeared into the night. With her disappearance, the shield that protected our realm waned until it broke allowing the Breach to once again return; albeit in reduced effectiveness. As the main armies mobilized to surround and fight the monsters of flesh and metal, a plan was quickly put in motion. The Seven Kingdoms would each send a small force led by one of their best commanders to find the missing god.
Time is of the essence. For with each passing week, the other Gods grow weaker as the strain of maintaining the shield has already started to drain their energy. With each passing day, the enemy pushes closer and closer to their temples. With each passing hour, smaller Breaches open all across the countryside. The dawn of the apocalypse is here, and the fiery inferno of our end times have arrived.
- - - - - - -
The Basic idea for this story:
We are going to play the role of a Commander/Representative for the Council of the Seven, sent in to find the missing Godess and bring her back. As the name suggests, the Council is the seven major Kingdoms that inhabit our world. The council was founded during the War of the Breach to coordinate all the armies under one banner. For all intents and purposes, the War of the Breach was a war fought against a supposed demonic force that nearly destroyed life as we know. It took the combined efforts of all the races, as well as the return of the gods, to stop it and save life as we know t. The Council of Seven now serves as a mostly diplomatic body, that's primary goal today is to prevent large-scale war between the major Kingdom’s. It is now transitioning to a more military-focused group, as all the finest commanders have rejoined its ranks to coordinate the new war.
Our characters, the Commanders/representatives that represent the Seven main Kingdoms (if enough interest is present, and the Seven Kingdoms are already represented, minor Kingdoms might be represented as well. I am pretty firm that 7 is our number of players) the search for Rofella and the small armies that follow in our wake. Guided with her faithful weapon and set of armor, that yearns to be reunited with their master, our group sets out and faces challenges that threaten the fate of the world.
Setting for the story:
This will be a high-fantasy, though potentially dark, story. Standard fantasy-style races are the races, with some wiggle room for creating non-traditional ones as well. Small wiggle room is very tight.
The gods of our story:
The seven major gods of our story are Rofella, Vel’Dia, Ardur, Calim, Guurut, Haliopecia, and Yamthurr; each currently resides in the mortal realms in their “mortal” forms. While weaker, the gods and the Goddesses are still much stronger, faster, and smarter than most mortals alive. Their powers are weaker in our realm; however, they are still strong enough to use their divine magic in projecting a shield that has protected our realm since the first Breach was sealed. While their primary focus in our world is to maintain the shield that prevents the return of the monsters, their temples have become destinations for all who seek guidance. While getting into the temple cities are hard enough with the thick walls and protective nature of their guards, it is possible for the mortal men and women of all races to visit their deity's in the flesh.
Rofella: Goddess of War and of Peace
Temple Location: Arnafell (Arr-nuh-fell): Kingdom of Aurr
Rofella is the Goddess of War and all battles. In the mortal realm, she stands at a minor height for a god at seven foot three inches tall with a lithe, feminine frame that fills in nicely. Her ears reflect that of an elf, with sharp-pointed tips. While many are quick to make assumptions about her status as Goddess of war from her form alone, make no mistake about her skills as a fighter. Lightning-quick strikes and breathtaking agility in combat, Rofella will waste no time in disposing of any and all that challenge her. When a commander goes to her temple to seek advice in a military matter, she offers guidance on how to win a war or how to prevent the war from breaking out; her advice is usually very useful in either scenario.
Vel’Dia: Goddess of Life and of Death
Temple Location: Langren (La-na-gen)
Vel’Dia is the Goddess of Life and death. Her form in the mortal realm shifts depending on the person viewing her. To those young in life, she appears to be a hooded, sick-looking, witch with wispy white hair and sunken eyes. To those who see her in this form, a sense of dread and uneasiness washes over them like a river over a rock. To those old in life, she appears to be a sweet looking young lady with long blonde hair kept in a ponytail in the back while wearing a long, flowing, white dress. To those who see her in this form, a calming sense surges through their body like they are meeting a friend or a loved one after many years apart.
Ardur: God of Magics and the Arts
Temple Location: Magiee (ma-gee)
Ardur is the God of Magic and the Mundane. In his mortal realm form, Ardur is the shortest of the God’s standing at a height of just six feet tall. His attire is a simple white robe with an equally simple hood that falls way too far down his back. While every form of magic is known to him, he will very rarely divulge his knowledge to those that flock to him for information. Magic is a gift, something that needs to be learned through trial and error in the mind of Ardur and much too dangerous to be taught to those who have no notion on how to control it. Magic in the hands of a vengeful vagabond leads to tragedy while magic in the hands of a trained wielder rarely does.
Ardur will also turn away any who come to him for assistance with whatever questions or comments relating to their art. To him, art is not about the final product before you but rather the journey you went on creating it. Furthermore, as experienced over the years, those that come to seek his advice are not true followers of his message. His followers will instead gift him their art, be it a painting or a song, and expect nothing from it but the applause of a grateful god.
Calim: God of Chaos and of Order
Temple Location: Anvialia (Ahn-vale-ya)
Calim stands at a staggering height of twelve feet tall, making him the tallest of all the gods. Clad from head to toe in thick, steel armor with one eye dark as the darkest night that flows out of his helmet like a thick dark fog while the other is as bright as the sun above that lights up his temple. His frame is that of a dwarf, with his legs and arms being short and stocky while his chest exudes muscular bravado. His mission on the mortal plane, besides keeping the shield up, is to maintain balance on the scales of justice. Too much order in the world means too many laws which leads to a repressed populace while too much chaos leads to strife and uprising. Calim sees no guests in his court but instead uses his rather large following to do his work for him. If Calim senses the scale is off balance, he will send his followers to do his bidding for him.
If an area slips into an ordered mess, he helps incite the change in the populace. If an area is slipping towards a chaotic upheaval, he uses his followers to help guide the area back into the right. The world as a whole has become more balanced, and in Calim’s eyes, that’s how all things should be.
Guurut: God of the Sun and the Moon
Temple location: Solune (Sol-une)
Guurut stands nearly eight feet tall. During the day hours, his appearance is one of fiery fashion, with vibrant reds and yellows being the predominant theme while a loud, boisterous personality embraces all who come near. Parties as legendary as time has seen have taken place in his temple, with copious amounts of both alcohol and foods being consumed. Though as night rolls around, his appearance instead changes to more somber colors. Black and a dark blue color scheme wrap his body tightly during these hours, while a mellow and often sad personality pushes away any who come to see him. It is in these hours that people find that they have a chance to reflect on who they truly are in the temple.
It is during both dawn and dusk, do the two sides of this coin mesh. His appearance is a clash of purple and white, and a calm personality emanates forth. Those at his temple during these hours have a chance to reflect on what they truly want.
Haliopecia: Goddess of Love and the Mad
Temple Location: Nebuoste (Neh-bu-o-stay)
What you bring to her temple is what you see with Haliopecia. Newlyweds flock to her temple in droves to get the blessing of the Goddess, which she happily doles out. The couples are treated to pure white, pristine marble tiles on the floor with drapes flowing in the wind as a faint, but the identifiable scent of nature drifts through the air. Her followers will treat you with kindness and respect, and Haliopecia herself will give you her blessing for a life full of happiness and love.
The Mad who come to her temple is treated with a far different sight. Here, their madness is made physical. The voices that whisper to you before are now on full blast, the visions of things that could not exist are made physical, while the thoughts that you knew could not be true are confirmed. The pristine marble tiles are broken and covered with dust and the drapes that effortlessly blew before are tattered and torn to pieces. The smell of nature is replaced with that of brimstone. Though this is not without its purpose. Her temple allows your inner madness to be made real to gradually, over time, be cured. The insane, the broken, and the mentally unstable who find refuge here face the brunt of their demons with the kind hand of the Goddess herself guiding them along their path back to sanity.
Yamthurr: Goddess of the Wise and the Fools
Temple location: Intebunie (In-teh-boo-ni)
Yamthurr stands at the height of nine feet tall and is cloaked in a simple, black dress that flows behind her as she walks. Her temple is filled with endless amounts of scrolls and books, depicting the history of the world from when the Gods arrived in the mortal realms, to the study of all the known plants and animals; if it exists as a book or scrolls it is somewhere in her temple. Scholars flock to her temple to find information on their subject at hand and most, if not all, are left feeling empty as they leave without finding a shred of knowledge that they needed. The Goddess, and her followers, allow any and all to enter her halls and to seek out the knowledge they seek yet she rarely gives it freely.
A wise person, in the eyes of the Goddess, seeks knowledge and knowledge alone. Her followers read and read, and when they are finished, they read somemore. Random books and scrolls are grabbed from the shelves and placed on the tables, where they are examined from start to finish. Those that come seeking specific knowledge are met with books and scrolls that never seem close to their area of study, no matter how much of the library they search. A fool’s errand for the fools.
History: War of the Breach
Four-hundred and forty-four years ago, the War of the Breach started in unceremonial fashion. Near a major city in the depts of the strongest empire known at the time, the first Breach opened between or world and another. Strange creatures, descriptions long since lost to time, began to slowly emerge and engage the populace in brutal combat. The empire deployed its military might against the strange enemy, one said to be of metal and flesh. Initially, the army had success in their endeavors. Through trial and error, they found ways through the armor, into the flesh and they backed the creatures back towards the portal and encircled it. Somehow, they even managed to close the breach.
For the next few decades, the Breach never appeared again and the empire chalked it up to demonic magic gone afoul. The commanders stopped training their soldiers on how they initially sealed the breach, stopped telling their populace on what to do if there was another Breach, and started to forget all of the lessons paid for in blood decades earlier. Meanwhile, the empire spread further and further in their conquest of the realm, expanding their borders many miles in all directions as they waged a perpetual series of wars out of envy. When the breach returned, a century later, and three times as massive as before, they were caught off guard and with their pants down. Towns were overrun and burned to ruin as countless garrisons failed to defend their population. Armies were simply cast away by the never-ending horde of enemies that spewed forth from the abyss.
The enemies of this empire, sensing weakness while also underselling the threat of the Breach, began to push back and started to invade. In the five-year-long struggle that ensued, the Empire had set up an effective perimeter around the sight of the Breach, retrained its soldiers on how to kill the beasts, and was in the process of driving them back when her mortal enemies struck a killing blow. Three separate factions had captured the food-producing areas spread out across the Empire, depriving their soldiers of the sustenance they desperately needed to keep up their strength. As soon as famine broke out in one small section of the defensive lines, the monsters exploited it. As they routed the Empires' best soldiers the monsters quickly spilled out of the containment and began to flood the countryside. They fought too many wars in times of strife, and it led to their downfall.
The other kingdoms quickly learned of the grave mistake they made as the horrors from beyond descended on their own soldiers. At every battle and every skirmish, their armies were massacred. The other kingdoms quickly came together as one and banded under one banner, led by the remaining seven most powerful kingdoms. It was decided that they would create a defensive line, centered around the City of Ash, and make one final, triumphant stand against their foes.
History is a bit unclear on what happened next. Some Kingdom’s claim their prayers for help were answered while most others assume the Gods took pity on their creations and came to our aid. What is clear, however, is the effect they had on the situation. Their arrival brought with it the shield that now protects us to this day at the start. Every Breach that had sprung up in the decade long fight had quickly closed within seconds of their arrival. Secondly, the God’s began to use their abilities to both teach and equip us mortals with the tools to fight. Ardur gifted his magic to those who could handle it, Rofella gave her strategies for battle to the generals who would listen, while the other God’s focused on healing those that needed their help and bringing balance to the world.
Within a year, the fighting was over. The cost to the mortal realms was great, with the surviving population for all races being vastly lower than where it was even a few years prior, yet the mortal realm proceeded to usher in a new golden age of which we are still prospering from.
`Excerpt from the book “The War of the Breach”
Kingdoms:
Kingdom of Aurr:
Primary races: Dark Elf - Human - Dwarf
Situated as the farthest most Kingdom of the Seven, the Kingdom of Aurr inhabits a land that is under constant assault from the elements. Cold, snowcapped peaks dominate the landscape that host a hard, but sturdy people. The Kingdom as a whole came together when Rofella chose the fortress city of Arnafell as her temple. Quickly, the numerous warring bands that inhabited the mountainside fell under the banner of King Aurr himself, who used Rofella’s guidance to great effect. There are few major cities in the Kingdom, with Arnafell being the largest, instead, there are numerous smaller style towns, carved into the mountainside, that dot the landscape.
To their north serves an enemy as old as their kingdom, the Wild Ones. The Wild Ones are a large faction to the direct north of the Kingdom of Seven, with a standing army that is estimated to be half as strong as the combined armies of our own. They worship demonic forces and are twisted in both mind and body. Every year, they send an attack through the mountain passes to try and break into the Kingdom of Seven, but every year they are repelled by the Kingdom of Aurr; whose mountainside fortresses and large standing army are trained to fight in the harsh conditions.
With Rofella’s influence seeping into the core of the Kingdom of Aurr, the people have changed as a result. Warlike in nature, the people will always seek to end the enemies that threaten their safety before they can strike. Though if there is a way to keep the peace without bloodshed, the citizens of Aurr will always explore that option as well.
Enemies:
Current information about our enemies is scattered at best. The reports from the front have spoken of monsters of flesh and metal, with varying descriptions. Our enemies seem to be sentient, and unique in their actions. Though the history books have the information in the temple at Intebunie, Yamthurr has yet yielded those books to scholars or tacticians.
How magic works in this RP
Magic works on a similar system to that of strength in this RP in the sense that the more training one has, the more powerful they can become. On the same note, there are rare prodigies that are naturally good and whos power can rival masters with less training. The magical talent would reveal itself to the mage at a young age in a way that is reminiscent of their magic. A fire mage would create sparks or accidentally burn something while a force mage would levitate or move something. Early on the power of the mage would be highly unstable so seeking out proper training is a must for any would-be mage. Most temples have training in place for such mages, and their usage of magic often reflects the style of the temple.
Magic use drains stamina. Prolonged use of magic in a short period will tire out the mage, much like a warrior in battle. Furthermore, over-casting is a real problem that mages are taught to avoid. A mage can break through exhaustion and keep using the magic, but it comes with the aforementioned risk of over-casting. Over-casting is a fatal condition where the magic of the user consumes them, often detonating in a grim explosion in relation to their power (a fire mage would be consumed by flames, a force mage would be crushed into the ground, and so on and so forth).
Here are a few ideas behind the magic themselves. There can be different variation on each. You can use whatever form of magic within reason, so if you wanted to create a water mage or something new, let me know and we can work from there.
Fire magic is, in essence, as the title suggests. A mage would draw from their latent magical abilities, focus it, and unleash a variety of different firey spells. A young mage may only be able to send sputtering sparks, a more advanced could summon a torrent of flames, while a master would be able to direct it in a focused and tight beam. The result, however, would be fire all the same.
The fire could only be controlled as it exits the arm. Its destructive powers know no equal. The fire magic can burn through structures, melt armor, and ravage whole sections of an enemy's formation. Yet those who want to master the inferno need to seek control of themselves. A fire mage who lacks it can cause significant harm to both themselves and everyone around them.
With a lack of control, comes a lack of restraint. A fire mage who burns too bright runs the risk of their magic consuming them. When a mage sends forth their magic, their hand cracks and gives way to lines that glow vibrant colors of red and yellow. As their magic use prolongs, the cracks spiral and spread, heading up their arm. As it reaches their elbows, their magic begins to take a toll on their health. Every burst darkens the skin around the cracks and saps the strength of the mage. In turn, the flames dull with each cast, and soon enough, the mage will be on the verge of losing control. Their arms looking more akin to charcoal at this point, the fire magic will burst forth from the mage, consuming both the caster and all near.
The fire that burns the brightest burns the shortest. A fire mage is taught this from their earliest lessons. Therefore, if a fire mage wants to survive the horrors of war, they must learn to control the inferno, and act strategically, to starve out the fire.
An adept fire mage will be a gentle but powerful force. They will strike when the moment is right and save their magic strength when it matters the most.
Force magic is magic that can control or manipulate objects. It can move a sword into someone's side or remove their helmet to open up a new avenue of attack. Force mage's power range must more dramatically than the other magics. A novice may be able to nudge an object along, whereas a master could life a whole battalion off their feet and crush them in their armor. Though the force mages found on the battlefield can do something in the middle. They can often lift a group of soldiers off their feet, but that would require them to expel a great deal of their magic. Instead, most force mages work in tandem with other mages to supplement their strengths, such as launching pots of flaming oil into enemy ranks.
A force mage can manipulate most objects. They can fling a spear with high power, throw rocks and boulders, and even fight a swordsman with a levitating sword. Force magic is seen as a jack of all trades type of magic and is seen as less skill-intensive than a fire mage. Make no mistake, a force mage that masters their magic is a mighty mage who can control whole battlefields.
There are limits to this magic. If a mage tries to lift an object that is too heavy or exerts too much power on a throw, they run the risk of running out of magic and even the magic consuming them. Much like a fire mage a force mage will show signs in the forms of cracks that form in the palm of their hands and spread outward and up the arm. The cracks are a grey color and seem to pulsate with the beat of their hearts. If a mage uses magic as their stamina drops, they run the risk of their body subject to the same force they are exerting. Sometimes a leg will snap, or they could be forced to the ground. Exert too much magic after this, and the spell can consume them, crushing their bones and collapsing their chest.
Races
Standard humanoid fantasy races and subraces.
Rules:
1.) No controlling another players character in any shape or form. Pretty standard but it has to be said.
2.) Combat is usually free form, meaning that you can write your character killing most enemies. Sometimes I will throw out specific or special enemies that you cannot kill so simply. We can either write a collab post or possibly roll a dice to determine the success of the fight and/or action.
3.) Stupid decisions can lead to bad results. Don't charge at the enemy alone. Your character can die if there are repeated offenses! Per rule 2, combat is free form but that does not mean charge at 10 enemy soldiers and expect a good time.
4.) Our enemies called you stupid, are you gonna take that? Write me your response when you post your CS so I know you have read these
5.) No arguing in the OOC, take it to a PM or to discord.
It was night time in the City of Ash and it was alive with revelry.
Every table in every bar on every street corner found itself packed with the smelly, sweating, and ravenous patrons one would expect for a night like tonight; for tonight was a night unlike any other. Today marked the anniversary of the horrid War of the Breech many centuries ago after all.
The patrons dug into their food with a rabid intensity as onlookers waited anxiously for their meals to arrive, jealously alive in their eyes, while the rest of the crowd drowned themselves, mug after mug, with the various alcoholic drinks available; mostly mead and Something Else, a local favorite. The floors looked as if they were assaulted by the God of Decay with half-eaten chickens and gods-knows-what else littering the floor while bile and unknown liquids poured forth like a torrent of awfulness. This was expected. This scene is one that many a soul has traveled to be seen. While in normal times owner would be appalled to see the state of his bar, the bartender looked on with a smile on hand for today was the day everyone celebrated, and nobody was upset. Unless of course, you knew better.
No one alive today experienced it yet the stories are still told, albeit seldom spoken in whole, by the bards and by the elders. They spin a tale of monsters of flesh and metal stalking the country-side, whole armies annihilated by great beasts of war, and of the gods returning to the mortal realm, saving us in our darkest time. They know the stories of many a great hero, many that died and fewer yet that lived, that helped curb the tide of the assault on the mortal races. They know the stories of all seven gods that still reside in our realm, placed in fortified temples where they have kept the shield up that prevents the creatures of nightmares from returning. They also know that today was never a day of celebration. Today, to them, is a day of remembrance. Remembering the errors of the all the races that led to the Breach, the errors of commanders who led their soldiers to slaughter, and the greed of the many who prayed on the few still living during it all. Today they remember and look on at the parties with a stern gaze and speak a cautionary tale to those who will listen.
It was such an elder who found himself sitting on a famous corner, deep in the heart of the City of Ash, judging the crowds from a distance. As he sat, he was approached by a young man in search of a tall tale. The man towered over the frail build of the elder, though he approached with a smile and asked if a seat next to the old man was taken, to which the old man responded no.
"I hear you know a story or two about the Breach Wars, old man," the towering individual asked as he sat down.
"Old man," the elder asked, "I'll have you know I am no older than your parents may be, are they so old to you?"
"I meant no disrespect, elder," the towering man said with a chuckle, "I am a student at the great magic school at Itos, and I and my fellow classmates have traveled far to this city to hear the tales of the war. I have been told you know a story or two, and I would like to know where we went wrong in the past."
"Not interested in the parties," quizzed the old man.
"No, especially not if I can learn something to tell my friends back home," the towering man responded.
The old man smiled weakly and pulled his posture straight as he did. "Perhaps there is hope for you youngin's after all," he responded with a wink. "Alrighty, this is a story of heroes who did not know they were such at the time, a story of the gods who gave up their immortal life to shield us, and it is a tale of the common folk who banded together and saved life as we know it. They came from all walks of life, some of the noble pursuits and some not, while the gods themselves were our most holy. The war was terrible in all accounts, but I will start my story off at where we started winning, right here in the City of Ash, three-hundred, and thirty-three years ago. The gods, now walking among us, used their divine powers to seal the breach and thus ending the never-ending flow of nightmares that stemmed forth like a raging river into our real-,, " the old man paused as his head tilted to the left, "realm, that started," pausing again, this time standing up, "what is that awful ruckus?," the old man stopped speaking.
The towering individual turned his head, the same direction the elder did seconds before, and listened. "Heyyyyy, I am soo not drunk guys – Where's my food – where are we- what did – for – somebody needs to -I think you've – did you grab my – what is the mean- how oft- wherein th-" The more the towering man listened, the less he heard and the less he understood. He turned his attention the old man, who was visibly shaking, and asked; "what do you hear old man?"
"Don't you hear it? The screaming," he answered back.
The towering man listened again, and this time he heard it; growing louder every second he did, the sounds of people panicking and shattering objects, blood-curdling screams that filled the nights' air only to be silenced, and he listened as it was getting closer and closer and closer. "Stay behind me elder," the towering man shouted as he stood up and his hands erupted into flames, "I will protect you," he promised. Though promise as he did, the towering man's voice was soon added to the melody of screams, as the chorus of horror began to fill the air and erupt throughout the City of Ash.
From miles around people could see the fires that raged that night, and even further could people see the plume of smoke that trailed over the horizon the next day.
A few days later the city Arcadia, located fifteen miles away, was attacked and destroyed. Then Sev’mo, and then Barin, and so on. Soon there-after reports of a new, smaller than the one told of in the history books, Breach was received by the Council of Seven, and the armies of the mortal realm were quickly mobilized. Any questions as to how this could have transpired under the watch of the Gods were quickly answered, as a God was missing. Without notice Rofella, Goddess of War, had vanished from her temple and disappeared into the night. With her disappearance, the shield that protected our realm waned until it broke allowing the Breach to once again return; albeit in reduced effectiveness. As the main armies mobilized to surround and fight the monsters of flesh and metal, a plan was quickly put in motion. The Seven Kingdoms would each send a small force led by one of their best commanders to find the missing god.
Time is of the essence. For with each passing week, the other Gods grow weaker as the strain of maintaining the shield has already started to drain their energy. With each passing day, the enemy pushes closer and closer to their temples. With each passing hour, smaller Breaches open all across the countryside. The dawn of the apocalypse is here, and the fiery inferno of our end times have arrived.
- - - - - - -
The Basic idea for this story:
We are going to play the role of a Commander/Representative for the Council of the Seven, sent in to find the missing God and bring it back. As the name suggests, the Council is the seven major Kingdoms that inhabit our world. The council was founded during the War of the Breach to coordinate all the armies under one banner. For all intents and purposes, the War of the Breach was a war fought against a supposed demonic force that nearly destroyed life as we know. It took the combined efforts of all the races, as well as the return of the gods, to stop it and save life as we know t. The Council of Seven now serves as a mostly diplomatic body, that's primary goal today is to prevent large-scale war between the major Kingdom’s. It is now transitioning to a more military-focused group, as all the finest commanders have rejoined its ranks to coordinate the new war.
Our characters, the Commanders/representatives that represent the Seven main Kingdoms (if enough interest is present, and the Seven Kingdoms are already represented, minor Kingdoms might be represented as well. I am pretty firm that 7 is our number of players) the search for Rofella and the small armies that follow in our wake. Guided with her faithful weapon and set of armor, that yearns to be reunited with their master, our group sets out and faces challenges that threaten the fate of the world.
Setting for the story:
This will be a high-fantasy, though potentially dark, story. Standard fantasy-style races are the races, with some wiggle room for creating non-traditional ones as well. Small wiggle room is very tight.
The gods of our story:
CLAIMED: ROFELLA -
The seven major gods of our story are Rofella, Vel’Dia, Ardur, Calim, Guurut, Haliopecia, and Yamthurr; each currently resides in the mortal realms in their “mortal” forms. While weaker, the gods and the Goddesses are still much stronger, faster, and smarter than most mortals alive. Their powers are weaker in our realm; however, they are still strong enough to use their divine magic in projecting a shield that has protected our realm since the first Breach was sealed. While their primary focus in our world is to maintain the shield that prevents the return of the monsters, their temples have become destinations for all who seek guidance. While getting into the temple cities are hard enough with the thick walls and protective nature of their guards, it is possible for the mortal men and women of all races to visit their deity's in the flesh.
Rofella: Goddess of War and of Peace
Temple Location: Arnafell (Arr-nuh-fell): Kingdom of Aurr
Rofella is the Goddess of War and all battles. In the mortal realm, she stands at a minor height for a god at seven foot three inches tall with a lithe, feminine frame that fills in nicely. Her ears reflect that of an elf, with sharp-pointed tips. While many are quick to make assumptions about her status as Goddess of war from her form alone, make no mistake about her skills as a fighter. Lightning-quick strikes and breathtaking agility in combat, Rofella will waste no time in disposing of any and all that challenge her. When a commander goes to her temple to seek advice in a military matter, she offers guidance on how to win a war or how to prevent the war from breaking out; her advice is usually very useful in either scenario.
Vel’Dia: Goddess of Life and of Death
Temple Location: Langren (La-na-gen)
Vel’Dia is the Goddess of Life and death. Her form in the mortal realm shifts depending on the person viewing her. To those young in life, she appears to be a hooded, sick-looking, witch with wispy white hair and sunken eyes. To those who see her in this form, a sense of dread and uneasiness washes over them like a river over a rock. To those old in life, she appears to be a sweet looking young lady with long blonde hair kept in a ponytail in the back while wearing a long, flowing, white dress. To those who see her in this form, a calming sense surges through their body like they are meeting a friend or a loved one after many years apart.
Ardur: God of Magics and the Arts
Temple Location: Magiee (ma-gee)
Ardur is the God of Magic and the Mundane. In his mortal realm form, Ardur is the shortest of the God’s standing at a height of just six feet tall. His attire is a simple white robe with an equally simple hood that falls way too far down his back. While every form of magic is known to him, he will very rarely divulge his knowledge to those that flock to him for information. Magic is a gift, something that needs to be learned through trial and error in the mind of Ardur and much too dangerous to be taught to those who have no notion on how to control it. Magic in the hands of a vengeful vagabond leads to tragedy while magic in the hands of a trained wielder rarely does.
Ardur will also turn away any who come to him for assistance with whatever questions or comments relating to their art. To him, art is not about the final product before you but rather the journey you went on creating it. Furthermore, as experienced over the years, those that come to seek his advice are not true followers of his message. His followers will instead gift him their art, be it a painting or a song, and expect nothing from it but the applause of a grateful god.
Calim: God of Chaos and of Order
Temple Location: Anvialia (Ahn-vale-ya)
Calim stands at a staggering height of twelve feet tall, making him the tallest of all the gods. Clad from head to toe in thick, steel armor with one eye dark as the darkest night that flows out of his helmet like a thick dark fog while the other is as bright as the sun above that lights up his temple. His frame is that of a dwarf, with his legs and arms being short and stocky while his chest exudes muscular bravado. His mission on the mortal plane, besides keeping the shield up, is to maintain balance on the scales of justice. Too much order in the world means too many laws which leads to a repressed populace while too much chaos leads to strife and uprising. Calim sees no guests in his court but instead uses his rather large following to do his work for him. If Calim senses the scale is off balance, he will send his followers to do his bidding for him.
If an area slips into an ordered mess, he helps incite the change in the populace. If an area is slipping towards a chaotic upheaval, he uses his followers to help guide the area back into the right. The world as a whole has become more balanced, and in Calim’s eyes, that’s how all things should be.
Guurut: God of the Sun and the Moon
Temple location: Solune (Sol-une)
Guurut stands nearly eight feet tall. During the day hours, his appearance is one of fiery fashion, with vibrant reds and yellows being the predominant theme while a loud, boisterous personality embraces all who come near. Parties as legendary as time has seen have taken place in his temple, with copious amounts of both alcohol and foods being consumed. Though as night rolls around, his appearance instead changes to more somber colors. Black and a dark blue color scheme wrap his body tightly during these hours, while a mellow and often sad personality pushes away any who come to see him. It is in these hours that people find that they have a chance to reflect on who they truly are in the temple.
It is during both dawn and dusk, do the two sides of this coin mesh. His appearance is a clash of purple and white, and a calm personality emanates forth. Those at his temple during these hours have a chance to reflect on what they truly want.
Haliopecia: Goddess of Love and the Mad
Temple Location: Nebuoste (Neh-bu-o-stay)
What you bring to her temple is what you see with Haliopecia. Newlyweds flock to her temple in droves to get the blessing of the Goddess, which she happily doles out. The couples are treated to pure white, pristine marble tiles on the floor with drapes flowing in the wind as a faint, but the identifiable scent of nature drifts through the air. Her followers will treat you with kindness and respect, and Haliopecia herself will give you her blessing for a life full of happiness and love.
The Mad who come to her temple is treated with a far different sight. Here, their madness is made physical. The voices that whisper to you before are now on full blast, the visions of things that could not exist are made physical, while the thoughts that you knew could not be true are confirmed. The pristine marble tiles are broken and covered with dust and the drapes that effortlessly blew before are tattered and torn to pieces. The smell of nature is replaced with that of brimstone. Though this is not without its purpose. Her temple allows your inner madness to be made real to gradually, over time, be cured. The insane, the broken, and the mentally unstable who find refuge here face the brunt of their demons with the kind hand of the Goddess herself guiding them along their path back to sanity.
Yamthurr: Goddess of the Wise and the Fools
Temple location: Intebunie (In-teh-boo-ni)
Yamthurr stands at the height of nine feet tall and is cloaked in a simple, black dress that flows behind her as she walks. Her temple is filled with endless amounts of scrolls and books, depicting the history of the world from when the Gods arrived in the mortal realms, to the study of all the known plants and animals; if it exists as a book or scrolls it is somewhere in her temple. Scholars flock to her temple to find information on their subject at hand and most, if not all, are left feeling empty as they leave without finding a shred of knowledge that they needed. The Goddess, and her followers, allow any and all to enter her halls and to seek out the knowledge they seek yet she rarely gives it freely.
A wise person, in the eyes of the Goddess, seeks knowledge and knowledge alone. Her followers read and read, and when they are finished, they read someone. Random books and scrolls are grabbed from the shelves and placed on the tables, where they are examined from start to finish. Those that come seeking specific knowledge are met with books and scrolls that never seem close to their area of study, no matter how much of the library they search. A fool’s errand for the fools.
History: War of the Breach
Four-hundred and forty-four years ago, the War of the Breach started in unceremonial fashion. Near a major city in the depts of the strongest empire known at the time, the first Breach opened between or world and another. Strange creatures, descriptions long since lost to time, began to slowly emerge and engage the populace in brutal combat. The empire deployed its military might against the strange enemy, one said to be of metal and flesh. Initially, the army had success in their endeavors. Through trial and error, they found ways through the armor, into the flesh and they backed the creatures back towards the portal and encircled it. Somehow, they even managed to close the breach.
For the next few decades, the Breach never appeared again and the empire chalked it up to demonic magic gone afoul. The commanders stopped training their soldiers on how they initially sealed the breach, stopped telling their populace on what to do if there was another Breach, and started to forget all of the lessons paid for in blood decades earlier. Meanwhile, the empire spread further and further in their conquest of the realm, expanding their borders many miles in all directions as they waged a perpetual series of wars out of envy. When the breach returned, a century later, and three times as massive as before, they were caught off guard and with their pants down. Towns were overrun and burned to ruin as countless garrisons failed to defend their population. Armies were simply cast away by the never-ending horde of enemies that spewed forth from the abyss.
The enemies of this empire, sensing some weakness from the Empire while also underselling the threat of the Breach, began to push back and started to invade. In the five-year-long struggle that ensued, the Empire had set up an effective perimeter around the sight of the Breach, retrained its soldiers on how to kill the beasts, and was in the process of driving them back when her mortal enemies struck a killing blow. Three separate factions had captured the food-producing areas spread out across the Empire, depriving their soldiers of the sustenance they desperately needed to keep up their strength. As soon as famine broke out in one small section of the defensive lines, the monsters exploited it. As they routed the Empires' best soldiers the monsters quickly spilled out of the containment and began to flood the countryside. They fought too many wars in times of strife, and it led to their downfall.
The other kingdoms quickly learned of the grave mistake they made as the horrors from beyond descended on their own soldiers. At every battle and every skirmish, their armies were massacred. The other kingdoms quickly came together as one and banded under one banner, led by the remaining seven most powerful kingdoms. It was decided that they would create a defensive line, centered around the City of Ash, and make one final, triumphant stand against their foes.
History is a bit unclear on what happened next. Some Kingdom’s claim their prayers for help were answered while most others assume the Gods took pity on their creations and came to our aid. What is clear, however, is the effect they had on the situation. Their arrival brought with it the shield that now protects us to this day at the start. Every Breach that had sprung up in the decade long fight had quickly closed within seconds of their arrival. Secondly, the God’s began to use their abilities to both teach and equip us mortals with the tools to fight. Ardur gifted his magic to those who could handle it, Rofella gave her strategies for battle to the generals who would listen, while the other God’s focused on healing those that needed their help and bringing balance to the world.
Within a year, the fighting was over. The cost to the mortal realms was great, with the surviving population for all races being vastly lower than where it was even a few years prior, yet the mortal realm proceeded to usher in a new golden age of which we are still prospering from.
`Excerpt from the book “The War of the Breach”
Kingdoms:
Kingdom of Aurr:
Primary races: Dark Elf - Human - Dwarf
Situated as the farthest most Kingdom of the Seven, the Kingdom of Aurr inhabits a land that is under constant assault from the elements. Cold, snowcapped peaks dominate the landscape that host a hard, but sturdy people. The Kingdom as a whole came together when Rofella chose the fortress city of Arnafell as her temple. Quickly, the numerous warring bands that inhabited the mountainside fell under the banner of King Aurr himself, who used Rofella’s guidance to great effect. There are few major cities in the Kingdom, with Arnafell being the largest, instead, there are numerous smaller style towns, carved into the mountainside, that dot the landscape.
To their north serves an enemy as old as their kingdom, the Wild Ones. The Wild Ones are a large faction to the direct north of the Kingdom of Seven, with a standing army that is estimated to be half as strong as the combined armies of our own. They worship demonic forces and are twisted in both mind and body. Every year, they send an attack through the mountain passes to try and break into the Kingdom of Seven, but every year they are repelled by the Kingdom of Aurr; whose mountainside fortresses and large standing army are trained to fight in the harsh conditions.
With Rofella’s influence seeping into the core of the Kingdom of Aurr, the people have changed as a result. Warlike in nature, the people will always seek to end the enemies that threaten their safety before they can strike. Though if there is a way to keep the peace without bloodshed, the citizens of Aurr will always explore that option as well.
Enemies:
Current information about our enemies is scattered at best. The reports from the front have spoken of monsters of flesh and metal, with varying descriptions. Our enemies seem to be sentient, and unique in their actions. Though the history books have the information in the temple at Intebunie, Yamthurr has yet yielded those books to scholars or tacticians.
"Who could have known how our war would change? How our walls would become raked with barbs thrown from monsters with skin of metal, how our towers would crumble from the fire brought down as their beasts roared in the heavens above. Who would have known? Would it have mattered?
Our fortress lay bare, the once-great walls of the Knife's Edge litter the landscape and her towers broken and fragmented. Our home for a decade had finally fallen, and it wasn't even close. This fight was not a battle we could have won; no, no, this fights outcome was settled the day they began this war. With each defeat, they brought new weapons, with each setback new soldiers, and with each passing year, we found that our enemy was utterly unique, and our strategies were all for naught. And the battle at the Knife's Edge made that clear.
Their beasts on the ground sat too far back for our magic to hit, and the night sky hid the ones above. We lashed out like children as our fire mages illuminated the fields with their red and yellow glow while our force mages launched their boulders into the enemy formation. I don't know if we hit a single one. Yet each salvo sent and fire dropped, claimed lives as if it were a sport. I watched in horror as friends after friend met their fate at the end of a barb or under the crushing weight of our collapsing walls. I watched in shock as my fellow soldiers disappeared in a mist of bone and blood as the fire from above hit and exploded around them. I saw it all. It will be the end of us.
I led a desperate retreat from our home into the forest east and away from the carnage. Of all the commanders, only I and Ardur remain because we knew the battle was lost. Now, we must fight our way across enemy-held land with hunters on our heels, for there is a secret crossing into the Land of Whispers. From there, we can return to our home and prepare our final defense.
"Faith is an addiction.
Blind faith is a disease.
When we crossed the land of whispers, I had faith in my cause. I had hope because we were the last holdout, the final survivor if you will, that blighted the Empire of Aurr and their wicked creatures with skin of steel. I had faith because we have held out for nearly a decade as they threw flesh and metal against our walls and were repelled at each advance with a furious mix of magic and bolt. I held my faith.
But I have faith no more.
How can someone have faith in our ability to win this war after I’ve seen what I’ve seen?
Our leaders tell us to have faith in these strange lands while they sit comfortably behind their tall walls and high up in their durable castles. Have faith? How do you maintain faith in the cause when our castle walls rock with explosions dropped from their birds with wings of silk? How can you keep your faith as you watch your friends disappear into a mist of red and chunks of bone? Our leaders tell us that our magic will always overcome their machines. Have they seen what we’ve seen?
How can anyone have faith in our ability to win this war after they’ve seen what we’ve seen?"
The Basic idea for this story:
Hello all!
A whale here to talk about an idea I have for a story. The premise is we would be from the Saldonian nation and would have been apart of a long, grueling conflict with the Empire of Aurr. I plan to flesh out the details here soon but the general gist of the state of the war is that it is at a stalemate. The Empire, while much more technologically advanced, has had trouble pushing across the natural barriers (the land of whispers) and through the tall, thick walls that block the way through the various canyons that cuts through a dangerous and vicious mountain range. The Empire of Aurr would have some fun tech that would make most encounters dangerous. The weapons I plan to reveal upfront (repeater bows and their full plate armored soldiers, among others) will be what the war has seen thus far. These would come with some details but would still be an unknown as to how they work. I will slowly sprinkle in new and more dangerous elements. They as a race would be considered an invading force with their home being across the sea and unknown at this point. They would be likely a fantasy human race.
Setting for the story:
Our story takes place on the continent of Hal'van, one of the larger and more diverse landmasses in this world. From the tropical coasts on the most eastern side to the cold desert that is the land of whispers, there exists the possibility for every biome and lifestyle therein. This landmass is inhabited by a race called the Saldonians. They are generally around five foot eight inches tall and have a more tan color to their skin. Though there are regional differences, however. The Saldonians who call the Land of Whispers and the capital city their home, for example, are closer to six feet in height and their skin is generally more amber in color. Meanwhile, there exist some Saldonians who call the vast forests there home and have adapted shorter heights to assist in navigating their trees.
Over the past hundred years, many Saldonian nations were forced to retreat from their homes, and ultimately they find themselves across the Land of Whispers in the capital city. Though they are far from their home, those who have magic still retain their unique magic from their homeland.
Our story will start at the onset of winter in the westernmost area of the Saldonian Nation. We are one week removed from witnessing the destruction of our fortress and are running for our lives, trying to make it home. Behind us their hunters stalk our movements while ahead; we may encounter their soldiers and their beasts with skin of metal.
Enemies:
Our enemy is a very diverse force in terms of capabilities and threats. Our most commonly seen threat are the various footsoldiers that form their ranks. Covered head to toe in dark plate armor and with thick tower shields, their numbers will always be higher than ours. They are not very skilled, and their morale tends to break rather easy. The next, and most dangerous group, are their ranged core. They too are often armored in the same plate armor but they are equipped with a weapon that has claimed many of our comrades. They come with a repeater bow, a simple name for such a devastating weapon. While it remains an unknown to us how it works, its effects are made clear as bolt after bolt leaves the chamber of this weapon until their magazine is cleared. It appears to resemble a very large crossbow with a strange circular apparatus near the release. They first showed up for war about a year ago and have begun to change the tide of the war. Open fights are no longer an option and we have been forced into our castles and behind our walls.
It was dark when our enemy first revealed their monsters, not much is known at this time.
How magic works in this RP
Magic works on a similar system to that of strength in this RP in the sense that the more training one has, the more powerful they can become. On the same note, there are rare prodigies that are naturally good and whos power can rival masters with less training. The magical talent would reveal itself to the mage at a young age in a way that is reminiscent of their magic. A fire mage would create sparks or accidentally burn something while a force mage would levitate or move something. Early on the power of the mage would be highly unstable so seeking out proper training is a must for any would-be mage.
Magic use drains stamina. Prolonged use of magic in a short period will tire out the mage, much like a warrior in battle. Furthermore, over-casting is a real problem that mages are taught to avoid. A mage can break through exhaustion and keep using the magic, but it comes with the aforementioned risk of over-casting. Over-casting is a fatal condition where the magic of the user consumes them, often detonating in a grim explosion in relation to their power (a fire mage would be consumed by flames, a force mage would be crushed into the ground, and so on and so forth).
The Saldonians as a whole are naturally adept at wielding magic while the Empire of Aurr has reportedly never seen a mage born to their race.
Fire magic is, in essence, as the title suggests. A mage would draw from their latent magical abilities, focus it, and unleash a variety of different firey spells. A young mage may only be able to send sputtering sparks, a more advanced could summon a torrent of flames, while a master would be able to direct it in a focused and tight beam. The result, however, would be fire all the same.
The fire could only be controlled as it exits the arm. Its destructive powers know no equal in the magic of Saldonian people. The fire magic can burn through structures, melt armor, and ravage whole sections of an enemy's formation. Yet those who want to master the inferno need to seek control of themselves. A fire mage who lacks it can cause significant harm to both themselves and everyone around them.
With a lack of control, comes a lack of restraint. A fire mage who burns too bright runs the risk of their magic consuming them. When a mage sends forth their magic, their hand cracks and gives way to lines that glow vibrant colors of red and yellow. As their magic use prolongs, the cracks spiral and spread, heading up their arm. As it reaches their elbows, their magic begins to take a toll on their health. Every burst darkens the skin around the cracks and saps the strength of the mage. In turn, the flames dull with each cast, and soon enough, the mage will be on the verge of losing control. Their arms looking more akin to charcoal at this point, the fire magic will burst forth from the mage, consuming both the caster and all near.
The fire that burns the brightest burns the shortest. A fire mage is taught this from their earliest lessons. Therefore, if a fire mage wants to survive the horrors of war, they must learn to control the inferno, and act strategically, to starve out the fire.
An adept fire mage will be a gentle but powerful force. They will strike when the moment is right and save their magic strength when it matters the most.
Force magic is magic that can control or manipulate objects. It can move a sword into someone's side or remove their helmet to open up a new avenue of attack. Force mage's power range must more dramatically than the other magics. A novice may be able to nudge an object along, whereas a master could life a whole battalion off their feet and crush them in their armor. Though the force mages found on the battlefield can do something in the middle. They can often lift a group of soldiers off their feet, but that would require them to expel a great deal of their magic. Instead, most force mages work in tandem with other mages to supplement their strengths, such as launching pots of flaming oil into enemy ranks.
A force mage can manipulate most objects. They can fling a spear with high power, throw rocks and boulders, and even fight a swordsman with a levitating sword. Force magic is seen as a jack of all trades type of magic and is seen as less skill-intensive than a fire mage. Make no mistake, a force mage that masters their magic is a mighty mage who can control whole battlefields.
There are limits to this magic. If a mage tries to lift an object that is too heavy or exerts too much power on a throw, they run the risk of running out of magic and even the magic consuming them. Much like a fire mage a force mage will show signs in the forms of cracks that form in the palm of their hands and spread outward and up the arm. The cracks are a grey color and seem to pulsate with the beat of their hearts. If a mage uses magic as their stamina drops, they run the risk of their body subject to the same force they are exerting. Sometimes a leg will snap, or they could be forced to the ground. Exert too much magic after this, and the spell can consume them, crushing their bones and collapsing their chest.
Nations:
There will be two nations that will be the focus of our story; The Empire of Aurr and the Saldonian Nation
The Empire sailed to the shores of this continent some hundred years ago and since then has waged a constant, bloody war as they conquered nation after nation. Many smaller Saldonian countries have found a safe haven behind the walls of the Saldonian Nation, leaving their homes behind in the process. Throughout the now conquered lands, cities and towns have sprung to life as citizens of the empire move to their new homes. Their soldiers appear to be of the same race, each standing around six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms.
The Empire has advanced across three-quarters of the continent over the past hundred years, but the lines have remained almost static over the past ten. While they bring forward new weapons to try and push through the Saldonian Nation, the defenders have held the line.
They are a quick-lived species, and it is understood few make it past sixty years of age. Though, many have claimed that there exists those who age are closer to a hundred years old.
The Saldonian Nation is a kingdom that was born out of the waste that is the Land of Whispers. The cruel winds and vast expanse have caused many a traveler to lose their life in the desolate plains. The Saldonian's have long used natural formations in their defenses. The gorge before the desert is heavily fortified with castles and fortress covering the crossing points while a mountain range, the Fangs of God, offer only one way through which is walled off by the massive and thick walls of the Fortress of Sal'vear.
The native Saldonians of the Nation are tall and amber skinned. Still, over the past century, they have become a diverse culture filled with the survivors of the Empires' steady advances. The Saldonian nation beyond the wall is filled with numerous oasis, and even fertile farmland found along the river Val. Near the eastern coast, the desert gives way to another mountain range and beyond that a thick forest.
The native Saldonians here are fierce fighters and even more aggressive fire mages. They enjoy long lives of nearly one hundred and thirty years being common while many can make it to three hundred years of age.
The Saldonian, unlike the Empire of Aurr, has a very diverse and uniquely powerful military force. Mages are a plentiful occurrence for the Saldonian nation and as such, their army revolves around protecting and keeping their mages safe. Their footsoldiers are all dressed in matching fashion, usually covered from head to toe in plate armor with a focus around shields and long weapons such as spears. The mages tend to wear much lighter armor, such as leather or even cloth.
Rules:
1.) No controlling another players character in any shape or form. Pretty standard but it has to be said.
2.) Combat is usually free form, meaning that you can write your character killing most enemies. Sometimes I will throw out specific or special enemies that you cannot kill so simply. We can either write a collab post or possibly roll a dice to determine the success of the fight and/or action.
3.) Stupid decisions can lead to bad results. Don't charge at the enemy alone. Your character can die if there are repeated offenses! Per rule 2, combat is free form but that does not mean charge at 10 enemy soldiers and expect a good time.
4.) Our enemies called you stupid, are you gonna take that? Write me your response when you post your CS so I know you have read these
5.) No arguing in the OOC, take it to a PM or to discord.
After all this time, S'venia finally found herself back in Swathe Street’s Central Square and it was intoxicating. The people have eventually come together in search of a better world. Sure, they were misguided by their candidates, but the fact that they packed this square so tightly meant that they were ready for more. S'venia could tell they were prepared for a better life but did not know what that meant in terms of accomplishing it. They were just cattle at this point, but soon they could be a herd. One that could rampage through the corporations and politicians alike, only needing to be heard
And S'venia was all ears.
She had returned to this layer of hell on a mission. She wanted to hear the people speak. She wanted their truths, what they saw of the world, and what they thought was needed. While most of what they spoke would be useless as a journalist, she could use their messages to tailor her voice and bring the Truth to the masses. The Truth of this situation was as dire as ever, after-all. Each faction at play for the council seat wants to divide the people into their separate tribes and peddle to the common theme of them. Gatch's tribe wished to maintain a semblance of normal in a world rife with chaos. Walter and Samsara's wish to bring changes to those who want to be free. The sheep that believe in Serena want to play coy with the world and what it will do to their voices. And Chen Dao's tribe? S'venia did not know what they believed, but they sure creeped her out.
They were all cogs in the same machine, spitting out divisions and chaos instead of unity and compassion. That's what brought S'venia back to this accursed square. Not the free perception granted, but the Truth as spoken by the people. Their stories mattered just as much as these so-called candidates.
She needed to find someone willing to make their voices and faces attached to a message. Not an easy task in the reclaim district as everyone here has a plan, after all. For some, it is survival, to make it through the relentless existence that is reality. Others, to have others spread the message they are too scared to speak. And even more, pretend to be embarrassed that they are down-on-their-luck trillionaires reluctant to be interviewed by common trash. Whatever their reason, S'venia was finding it hard to get more than one person for every ten asked to agree to her interviews. While it was encouraging that some wanted to be honest, she knew she needed more. She tapped one of the buttons on the side of her head, causing the red iris of her eye cam to turn off. She required her drone. It was currently busy filming the last of the candidates entering the hotel.
"Return to me," S'venia spoke as the last candidate entered the hotel and vanished from sight, "cut recording."
The drone feed cut from her vision, though her head was quick to locate her little guy floating away from the mass of reporter drones. While this little bundle of electronic goods was not as advanced as the others, it was unique in its way. "Turn on recording on approach, three-second timer," she spoke as she watched as her drone approached. Taking a deep breath, she watched as her drone pulled itself back and stabilized in front of her, starting the timer.
3...2..1
S'venia smiled as a quick blink forced its action. "Hello! This is S'venia from the South City Blues here in the reclaim district, and you are all out in force!" She paused as her drone did a quick panoramic spin showing the crowd. "The last candidate has made it inside, That's probably gonna be it for the exciting stuff. I'm taking a pause from the candidates for now. Might try and get some questions in with those that have turned up here. Stay tuned for the videos," she finished as she waved with a smile before the drone cut its video once more. Quickly, S'venia unfurled her computer and quickly typed a message to her followers and attached the footage from her drone. She immediately went through the video to make sure everything looked decent enough for a quick post. Happy with how it turned out, she sent "Stay tuned for interviews!" and tagged the debate and sent the video out. S'venia wrapped the computer back up, S'venia looked around at the people nearby. Anyone who was following her profile would receive the notification in an instant, and she wondered if anyone nearby would get it.
"Track me; five meters follow," S'venia commanded as she shifted her focus back to the job at hand. Her drone obeyed, turning position until it met the desired conditions. Soon, the left part of her glasses was alight with the drones' feed. She began to move through the masses while her drone captured the bigger picture. From the drones feed, S'venia looked for her next subject. She had already interviewed individuals from each tribe, but she needed more. She thought she could interview some Gatch supporters and see if she could get the attention of the man himself. While the two would never see eye to eye, S'venia fancied herself the savior of the mayor. She danced with the thought for a second, briefly imaging the sweaty and scared face of the politician way over his head, trying to offer her a position. After a few minutes of dancing through the crowd, she spotted an abnormality.
"Curious," she whispered as she slowed to a crawl. S'venia rotated her hand, and the drone followed its command. She pulled her hand back and extended her fingers, causing the drone to zoom in. "Who are you," she mumbled as she focused on this person. The subject of her curiosity was unremarkable at first glance. His clothing was dull, his hair and beard unkempt, and he looked like any ordinary citizen of this district. Yet, there was no affiliation to any tribe on the surface; no way to identify who he supported.
You can tell a lot about a person just from the way they dress. While this is not true for every supporter, a lot of them tend to fall in line with their ideas. Outdated styles probably match an obsolete view that the centrist are suitable for the country. Voguish on the verge of excessive? A little harder to pin down, but S'venia knows to look for the augs to figure out which side of that fence they fall on. Not stylish but still on the verge of being excessive? Pirates. And Dao supporters? Well, she wasn't sure if he even had any but she'd imagine they would wear an orange robe. Every party had a style, an etiquette, if you will, that the brand as a whole has adopted. While everyone dressed their brand, often, people make it all too easy to read.
This man was a hard read. His clothes were dull, but they weren't some bargain brand design that so many centrists bought. They were a combination of this and that and had no rhyme nor reason for their haphazard mix. He wasn't stylish but was also not excessive in his look. So not a pirate, aug junkie, nor was he a violent hippie, at least on the surface. Was he a monk? S'venia focused her attention on his hair. While it was orange, the lack of a calmingly creepy demeanor meant he was likely just an average person here to enjoy the shit show. S'venia wondered what stories he could tell. Most likely he was a follower of Samsara, as his augs were well kept and proudly displayed. Yet that still meshed with how he carried himself. She allowed a small smile as she balled her hand into a fist, causing the drone to retract its lens. S'venia wanted to know a little more about what brought this average joe out to see some boring politicians ahead of the debate?
S'venia began to make her way through the crowd using her drone to guide her to her mark. She slid through the masses mostly unnoticed, though her hair made her an easy spot to those who paid attention. Soon enough, she found herself breaking through and arriving near her mark. She sized him up once more, noticing the stick that once contained some food. Her eyes shifted towards the food cart, lingering there for a second before they moved back towards the man.
At a slow pace, she began to walk towards the man. She moved her glasses on top of her head and smiled as she caught his attention with a wave. "Hello! I am S'venia, a journalist with the South City Blues. How's your day going?" S'venia finished with another smile.
[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEwNi5iNTBiZmUuU0dWc2JHOGdZVzVrSUhkbGJHTnZiV1VzLjA,/overunder-personal-use.regular.webp[/img]
I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.
I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEwNi5iNTBiZmUuU0dWc2JHOGdZVzVrSUhkbGJHTnZiV1VzLjA,/overunder-personal-use.regular.webp" /><br>I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.<br><br>I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.</div><br></div>
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