If you currently have a character post in the IC tab, make a quick post under the Character tab so I can update the PC roster. Just a few lines about your character is fine. Images should be similar to the portrait of Maren in the first IC post of the RP. Thanks!
Polybius Member
Rhymer
- Last Seen: 27 days ago
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6 yrs ago
Hello guild my old friend :)
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7 yrs ago
The nostalgia is fierce tonight...so many ideas. Where did the time go? roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
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7 yrs ago
The Archive is Activated
8 yrs ago
Guild issues making it difficult to post. Will update when the server errors stop.
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8 yrs ago
To Teluval, Farewell . A surreal fantasy adventure: roleplayerguild.com/topics/1..
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I missed your mention Harbinger, but I'm on board :)
Jumped the timeline to the morning. Maren is just waking up at the temple of Askari, goddess of healing and the sun. I had to cut short the scene because I have to go! If you guys want to do a early morning post or tie up any loose ends to advance the plot go for it!
Morning broke over the city of bridges and the light of the dawn revealed the chaos of the evenings attack. The north garrison had crumbled completely, the broken hexagonal towers reduced to little more than mounds of stone, timber and the slain. Karsusians and city militia alike had fought to a man there and died in the dark save for the light of the ever-burning marsh. The fetid stench of the marsh mingled and mixed with the air of battle, the smell of blood and dead hopes. Smoke drifted skyward as the slain, too numerous to bury were heaped into piles and burned, a grim offering to the gods above.
The walls had taken little in the way of damage. Only a few battlements had been lost, but many of the city militia had fallen to the Karsusians bloodlust. On the north shore, the mercenaries camp had been utterly destroyed and supplies and weapons abandoned. The attacking army had been completely routed, or died at the walls, or fled into the hills.
Maren opened her eyes. The morning light shone threw the shattered stain glass of the temple. She found herself in a makeshift bed of hay and ragged cloth. She winced, pain suddenly surging through her shoulder and back. Then she remembered the city wall, Cassius and the strange warrior woman. The battle. All of it. The orcs. Rushing down the stairs and then...darkness.
Oh...gods. I'm so foolish!
Maren had exhausted herself. Barely slept since the flight from Erlahd Castle. They had spent weeks on the road, always evading her brother's patrols. Gathering those to her cause where they could. Restless nights in tavern stables. Sleeping in the wilderness. She was a princess, not accustomed to this sort of thing. She steeled herself against her bruised shoulder and sat up.
She was in a small chapel, an annex of the larger temple. She was dressed in a light tunic, stained with dirt and ash. Beside her bed lay her tunic and robes, neatly folded. Her dagger rested on top. She snatched the dagger and slowly pulled on her tunic and robes. She looked around the room. A few beds, some occupied, some not were scattered around the room. Beneath the eastern window was a small altar with the idol of Askari, the Healing Mother. "Healing Mother," she whispered sitting up in bed, "Your care will be much needed today," She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the bed beside her.
There was a man. Eyes wide and staring. Dead. He wore fine clothes, a tunic of dyed silk and around his neck was the silver chain of the merchants guild. The man looked east, towards the statue of Askari and the shattered stained glass. He may have been handsome, but the bandaged wounds and the grimace on his face uneased Maren. Maren felt queasy and looked away.
"Viago, my most hated rival," said a weak voice. His words were fluid, with the accent of the distant sea kingdoms. Maren tensed, and gripped her dagger reflexively. In the furthest corner a man sat upright in his own bed. He too wore the merchants chain, but his clothes were simple, dirty and stained.
"Who are you?" said Maren.
"A very fortunate man, M'lady," said the merchant. He pulled his tunic to show Maren a jagged wound, sutured up and already reduced in swelling. "The monks here are very skilled," he said weakly.
"Not for Viago, it would seem," said Maren.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, away from dead Viago and glared at the merchant. "I asked your name sir, not your destiny,"
"My name is Iago Vontclaire," he said. "And you are Maren Trevoste," he said with a grin.
Maren scoffed. "No you are mistaken, my name is..." she began, but was cut short as the chapel door opened and there appeared a monk in dark robes. He said nothing as he entered the chapel, and approached the bed of Viago. He touch his brow, and then the deceased and said a silent word, closing the mans eyes. He lifted the sheet over the body and lowered his head in prayer. Maren and Iago watched in silence.
The walls had taken little in the way of damage. Only a few battlements had been lost, but many of the city militia had fallen to the Karsusians bloodlust. On the north shore, the mercenaries camp had been utterly destroyed and supplies and weapons abandoned. The attacking army had been completely routed, or died at the walls, or fled into the hills.
Maren opened her eyes. The morning light shone threw the shattered stain glass of the temple. She found herself in a makeshift bed of hay and ragged cloth. She winced, pain suddenly surging through her shoulder and back. Then she remembered the city wall, Cassius and the strange warrior woman. The battle. All of it. The orcs. Rushing down the stairs and then...darkness.
Oh...gods. I'm so foolish!
Maren had exhausted herself. Barely slept since the flight from Erlahd Castle. They had spent weeks on the road, always evading her brother's patrols. Gathering those to her cause where they could. Restless nights in tavern stables. Sleeping in the wilderness. She was a princess, not accustomed to this sort of thing. She steeled herself against her bruised shoulder and sat up.
She was in a small chapel, an annex of the larger temple. She was dressed in a light tunic, stained with dirt and ash. Beside her bed lay her tunic and robes, neatly folded. Her dagger rested on top. She snatched the dagger and slowly pulled on her tunic and robes. She looked around the room. A few beds, some occupied, some not were scattered around the room. Beneath the eastern window was a small altar with the idol of Askari, the Healing Mother. "Healing Mother," she whispered sitting up in bed, "Your care will be much needed today," She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the bed beside her.
There was a man. Eyes wide and staring. Dead. He wore fine clothes, a tunic of dyed silk and around his neck was the silver chain of the merchants guild. The man looked east, towards the statue of Askari and the shattered stained glass. He may have been handsome, but the bandaged wounds and the grimace on his face uneased Maren. Maren felt queasy and looked away.
"Viago, my most hated rival," said a weak voice. His words were fluid, with the accent of the distant sea kingdoms. Maren tensed, and gripped her dagger reflexively. In the furthest corner a man sat upright in his own bed. He too wore the merchants chain, but his clothes were simple, dirty and stained.
"Who are you?" said Maren.
"A very fortunate man, M'lady," said the merchant. He pulled his tunic to show Maren a jagged wound, sutured up and already reduced in swelling. "The monks here are very skilled," he said weakly.
"Not for Viago, it would seem," said Maren.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, away from dead Viago and glared at the merchant. "I asked your name sir, not your destiny,"
"My name is Iago Vontclaire," he said. "And you are Maren Trevoste," he said with a grin.
Maren scoffed. "No you are mistaken, my name is..." she began, but was cut short as the chapel door opened and there appeared a monk in dark robes. He said nothing as he entered the chapel, and approached the bed of Viago. He touch his brow, and then the deceased and said a silent word, closing the mans eyes. He lifted the sheet over the body and lowered his head in prayer. Maren and Iago watched in silence.
Hey I am absolutely slammed at work. Maren can wait out the battle at the cathedral if it's cool. And yeah, I was planning on playing her brother Mago Trevoste as the BBEG.
Maren Trevoste
For all her thinking, and planning Maren was not ready for the anarchy of a full blown siege. The mercenaries had momentarily beat back the orcish raid and now focused their assault on the city. The siege towers that Maren had watched grow ever larger with each passing day did not seem a threat at the time. Surely they would become bogged down in the fire-fens?. But Maren had underestimated the Karsusians. One of the towers lurched forward with the grunts and straining cries of the men and horses pushing and pulling the wooden monstrosity. Maren expected it to tumble into the marsh immediately, but it miraculously remained upright. Bastards must have filled the fens with rocks or wooden planks.. she thought. One of the towers seemed to be struggling to advance however and it would surely be an hour or more before they reached the walls.
A booming crash sounded from the gatehouse just as a volley of missiles soared over the city walls. Maren ducked instinctively. The gate exploded with such force Maren saw a dozen men tumble back. Then the enemy was through the gate and the battle ensued. She turned to Cassius.
"Defend the city Cassius! I am no use here on the walls. I will go to the Chapel to see if I can help with the wounded!"
Maren hurried down the stairs just as a large rock smashed into the wall nearby crushing a defender instantly. She grimaced. She had not seen such carnage up close before. The blood seemed to rush from her head as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Maren felt suddenly very, very tired. Her vision blurred. She looked up and saw a man flinging javelins into the mass of mercenaries hacking their way into the city. Then Maren collapsed at the foot of the stone stairs and fell into darkness.
For all her thinking, and planning Maren was not ready for the anarchy of a full blown siege. The mercenaries had momentarily beat back the orcish raid and now focused their assault on the city. The siege towers that Maren had watched grow ever larger with each passing day did not seem a threat at the time. Surely they would become bogged down in the fire-fens?. But Maren had underestimated the Karsusians. One of the towers lurched forward with the grunts and straining cries of the men and horses pushing and pulling the wooden monstrosity. Maren expected it to tumble into the marsh immediately, but it miraculously remained upright. Bastards must have filled the fens with rocks or wooden planks.. she thought. One of the towers seemed to be struggling to advance however and it would surely be an hour or more before they reached the walls.
A booming crash sounded from the gatehouse just as a volley of missiles soared over the city walls. Maren ducked instinctively. The gate exploded with such force Maren saw a dozen men tumble back. Then the enemy was through the gate and the battle ensued. She turned to Cassius.
"Defend the city Cassius! I am no use here on the walls. I will go to the Chapel to see if I can help with the wounded!"
Maren hurried down the stairs just as a large rock smashed into the wall nearby crushing a defender instantly. She grimaced. She had not seen such carnage up close before. The blood seemed to rush from her head as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Maren felt suddenly very, very tired. Her vision blurred. She looked up and saw a man flinging javelins into the mass of mercenaries hacking their way into the city. Then Maren collapsed at the foot of the stone stairs and fell into darkness.
@Lucius Cypher It's definitely your call as you created the character and event! :)
I would say the orcs have pretty much scattered and defeated the Karsusians. @Zaphander
@Lucius Cypher I don't know how else to describe low-magic beyond what I've detailed in the first post. Try this definition from Wikipedia.
"A soft magic system is vague and undefined with a mysterious list of rules and limitations that is never explained.[4] It creates a sense of awe and deepens the fantastical setting.[5] The focus of these types of stories is not usually on the magic itself and the main character usually isn't a magic user.[1] The main conflict is not solved by magic; instead, it's solved by valuable lessons the main character learns throughout the course of the story. Often when magic is used to solve a problem, it will actually make the problem worse. In these types of stories, the reader is never certain of the dangers and wonders that the characters will encounter and the characters themselves never truly know what can and can't happen"
"A soft magic system is vague and undefined with a mysterious list of rules and limitations that is never explained.[4] It creates a sense of awe and deepens the fantastical setting.[5] The focus of these types of stories is not usually on the magic itself and the main character usually isn't a magic user.[1] The main conflict is not solved by magic; instead, it's solved by valuable lessons the main character learns throughout the course of the story. Often when magic is used to solve a problem, it will actually make the problem worse. In these types of stories, the reader is never certain of the dangers and wonders that the characters will encounter and the characters themselves never truly know what can and can't happen"
<Snipped quote by Polybius>
I won't. And as I said, he'd be more of a background threat. If others should decide to gather armies and declare war, then he'll be in the spotlight. But he ain't showing up in the first scene as there's no logical reason for him to be there.
Thanks man! And hey, maybe there are other storylines that you could develop too? The world is barely fleshed out and there are many questions to be answered.
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