Red Wizard

Blackguards!

And there we finally are!

Blackguards!

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In the Belly of the Beast

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Thengil awakened, but his eyes remained shut. Not dead, then. Not yet. He took a long, shaky breath and listened. There were others there. Strangers. Monsters, perhaps. Then again, there were probably some who thought of him as a monster. He could name several. Not that it mattered much – they were all dead now. Mud. All because of him. And yet he was left alive. Such was his punishment.

The Warden remained in the center of the room, motionless. A few spoke to her, but if she noticed, she gave no sign. Once all had awakened, she began speaking. Her voice defied description. It sounded like the ice cracking beneath your feet, like the blade rasping against your ribs, like your home burning in the night. Most of all, it sounded like something not of this world. Thengil could understand the words, somehow, but he knew deep down that they weren't uttered in any tongue spoken in all the Westerlands. Other than fear, perhaps.

To the near east lies the land of Sulfrey, the Warden said, a rich and powerful land, ruled by the God-King Ael-Gol who is a loved as he is feared. Sulfrey has long acted as the bulwark of the east, putting a stop to the raids and invasions of the barbarian hordes from beyond the edges of civilization. They have been very successful in this, and have because of it enjoyed a long and lasting peace with the Westerlands.

Images flashed before Thengils eyes; armies of knights with horned helmets, vast cities centered around pyramidesque temples, throngs of people cheering and raising their hands to the sky as a procession passed through the streets, a horned knight riding on a great winged lizard routing a horde of primitive barbarian warriors, and then lastly, an image of a tall and slender man in a beautiful golden mask. The man was both wonderful and terrible to behold; the sort of entity that would and could make you die for it. The face of the mask was locked in an eternal half-smile, and there were no slits for the eyes, but the hairs on Thengils neck started to stand up as he realized that he was looking at him, that he knows and waits, and that he smiles with anticipation.

The problem is, however, the Warden continued, that they have become too successful. Too powerful. The easterling hordes are all but spent at this point, humbled by the forces of Sulfrey. Many barbarians have taken up worship of this false god and are spreading the faith further still. It will not be long until its influence finds its way westward, and with it, armies of horned knights. The King has decreed that this cannot be allowed to continue. I have been tasked with solving the situation, and so, I am tasking you.

Suddenly, the Warden turned to face him. The very motion was unpleasant, as if she suddenly snapped from one position to the next with a strange resistance to the fluidity of the turn as if reality tried but failed to hold her in place. She didn’t approach him, but somehow it seemed like she was getting closer. Her eyes - those bottomless pits of horrid darkness - stared right at him, into him, through him. When she continued speaking, Thengil noticed that her lips weren't moving. The sound of her voice came from within. She was in his head!

Your mission is threefold, the Wardens voice whispered in his mind, There are advance agents already in place in Sulfrey. We have however not heard from them for over a month. Their last known place of residence was the Golden Chalice, a tavern in the city of Malasta. Your first mission is to make rendezvouz with the agents. They are three in total; Tristana, Yorleif and Nashur. Your second mission is to learn of their findings and plans, and enact them. If you suspect that any or all of them have been in any way compromized, you are to kill them. Your third and final mission is to infiltrate the court of the false God-King and slay Ael-Gol.

The visions flooded Thengils mind once more; three shadowy figures, one female and two male, her hair a telltale red, his face carrying a telltale scar; upset and uprisings in the streets, confusion and mass panic, a burning pyramid or temple; a splendorous hall devoid of life, except... He was there and the hairs on Thengils neck starts to stand up as he realized that he was looking at him, that he knows and waits, and that he smiles with anticipation.

You are all enemies of the Kingdom, the Warden concluded, Monsters, villains, traitors... Blackguards, all. You have been chosen, because no one will believe you work for the King. You have been chosen, because no one will care if you die. Do your best, or do your worst - it matters not. Know only that you will do what I have said. That is all.

An eerie silence settled in the room, the moments stretching into seconds, or minutes, or hours. It was hard to tell. Then a rumbling began - quiet at first, but deafening within moments. It was as if a mountain toppled over, as if a river of rocks flowed through the room. Thengil couldn't think for the noise, couldn't speak. Then suddenly, something impossible occured. The walls started moving, folding and slithering and breaking apart. The room collapsed in on itself, and it was all he could do not to scream as his doom came crashing down on him. The Warden remained motionless in the centre of the room, but Thengil could have sworn she was smiling.

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Out of the Ashes...

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Darkness.

I am awake.

I am alive.

I must break free.

Open your eyes.

This time, Thengils eyelids snapped open. The light blinded him, but his eyes soon adjusted themselves. He was no longer in the Maw. He could feel the soft caress of the wind on his skin, feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He was in a field of tall grass. In the distance was a great forest, and beyond, high mountains. There was a river somewhere nearby; he could hear the water running. It was in the evening, just before dusk. The sun had not yet set, but was about to. Free. You was finally free. Thengil did not understand why or how, or where, but there he was. He took a deep breath, savouring the scent of the grass and the clean crispness of the air.

Then he saw them.

The Warden was nowhere to be found, but the others were. Monsters, creatures and other entities. Unknown factors. Certainly threats. Memory came back to haunt him; no, he was not free at all. Something impossible was demanded of him. Something that most likely will get him killed. And the only help he had were these villains, these... Blackguards. And Thengil didn't even know who, or what, they were.

Seems like he was going on an adventure. What a joy.

Ye Olde Laboratory

2nd post

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In the Belly of the Beast

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Thengil awakened, but his eyes remained shut. Not dead, then. Not yet. He took a long, shaky breath and listened. There were others there. Strangers. Monsters, perhaps. Then again, there were probably some who thought of him as a monster. He could name several. Not that it mattered much – they were all dead now. Mud. All because of him. And yet he was left alive. Such was his punishment.

The Warden remained in the center of the room, motionless. A few spoke to her, but if she noticed, she gave no sign. Once all had awakened, she began speaking. Her voice defied description. It sounded like the ice cracking beneath your feet, like the blade rasping against your ribs, like your home burning in the night. Most of all, it sounded like something not of this world. Thengil could understand the words, somehow, but he knew deep down that they weren't uttered in any tongue spoken in all the Westerlands. Other than fear, perhaps.

To the near east lies the land of Sulfrey, the Warden said, a rich and powerful land, ruled by the God-King Ael-Gol who is a loved as he is feared. Sulfrey has long acted as the bulwark of the east, putting a stop to the raids and invasions of the barbarian hordes from beyond the edges of civilization. They have been very successful in this, and have because of it enjoyed a long and lasting peace with the Westerlands.

Images flashed before Thengils eyes; armies of knights with horned helmets, vast cities centered around pyramidesque temples, throngs of people cheering and raising their hands to the sky as a procession passed through the streets, a horned knight riding on a great winged lizard routing a horde of primitive barbarian warriors, and then lastly, an image of a tall and slender man in a beautiful golden mask. The man was both wonderful and terrible to behold; the sort of entity that would and could make you die for it. The face of the mask was locked in an eternal half-smile, and there were no slits for the eyes, but the hairs on Thengils neck started to stand up as he realized that he was looking at him, that he knows and waits, and that he smiles with anticipation.

The problem is, however, the Warden continued, that they have become too successful. Too powerful. The easterling hordes are all but spent at this point, humbled by the forces of Sulfrey. Many barbarians have taken up worship of this false god and are spreading the faith further still. It will not be long until its influence finds its way westward, and with it, armies of horned knights. The King has decreed that this cannot be allowed to continue. I have been tasked with solving the situation, and so, I am tasking you.

Suddenly, the Warden turned to face him. The very motion was unpleasant, as if she suddenly snapped from one position to the next with a strange resistance to the fluidity of the turn as if reality tried but failed to hold her in place. She didn’t approach him, but somehow it seemed like she was getting closer. Her eyes - those bottomless pits of horrid darkness - stared right at him, into him, through him. When she continued speaking, Thengil noticed that her lips weren't moving. The sound of her voice came from within. She was in his head!

Your mission is threefold, the Wardens voice whispered in his mind, There are advance agents already in place in Sulfrey. We have however not heard from them for over a month. Their last known place of residence was the Golden Chalice, a tavern in the city of Malasta. Your first mission is to make rendezvouz with the agents. They are three in total; Tristana, Yorleif and Nashur. Your second mission is to learn of their findings and plans, and enact them. If you suspect that any or all of them have been in any way compromized, you are to kill them. Your third and final mission is to infiltrate the court of the false God-King and slay Ael-Gol.

The visions flooded Thengils mind once more; three shadowy figures, one female and two male, her hair a telltale red, his face carrying a telltale scar; upset and uprisings in the streets, confusion and mass panic, a burning pyramid or temple; a splendorous hall devoid of life, except... He was there and the hairs on Thengils neck starts to stand up as he realized that he was looking at him, that he knows and waits, and that he smiles with anticipation.

You are all enemies of the Kingdom, the Warden concluded, Monsters, villains, traitors... Blackguards, all. You have been chosen, because no one will believe you work for the King. You have been chosen, because no one will care if you die. Do your best, or do your worst - it matters not. Know only that you will do what I have said. That is all.

An eerie silence settled in the room, the moments stretching into seconds, or minutes, or hours. It was hard to tell. Then a rumbling began - quiet at first, but deafening within moments. It was as if a mountain toppled over, as if a river of rocks flowed through the room. Thengil couldn't think for the noise, couldn't speak. Then suddenly, something impossible occured. The walls started moving, folding and slithering and breaking apart. The room collapsed in on itself, and it was all he could do not to scream as his doom came crashing down on him. The Warden remained motionless in the centre of the room, but Thengil could have sworn she was smiling.

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Out of the Ashes...

---

Darkness.

I am awake.

I am alive.

I must break free.

Open your eyes.

This time, Thengils eyelids snapped open. The light blinded him, but his eyes soon adjusted themselves. He was no longer in the Maw. He could feel the soft caress of the wind on his skin, feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He was in a field of tall grass. In the distance was a great forest, and beyond, high mountains. There was a river somewhere nearby; he could hear the water running. It was in the evening, just before dusk. The sun had not yet set, but was about to. Free. You was finally free. Thengil did not understand why or how, or where, but there he was. He took a deep breath, savouring the scent of the grass and the clean crispness of the air.

Then he saw them.

The Warden was nowhere to be found, but the others were. Monsters, creatures and other entities. Unknown factors. Certainly threats. Memory came back to haunt him; no, he was not free at all. Something impossible was demanded of him. Something that most likely will get him killed. And the only help he had were these villains, these... Blackguards. And Thengil didn't even know who, or what, they were.

Seems like he was going on an adventure. What a joy.

Blackguards!

I have waited long enough. The plot moves forward tomorrow.

Blackguards!

Sorry for the delay! I really want the last player to get their IC post in before advancing. And it's the holidays after all, so a little downtime is to be expected.

Blackguards!

Good going so far! I'll be posting IC as Thengil within a day or so, and then move the story along after that. As we had an additional aspirant in the Int Check, I want to give them a little more time before moving ahead.

Besides, the holidays are around the corner, and as such I expect the game to move pretty slow.

Blackguards!

And there we are! Feel free to start posting in the IC, and do let me know if you have any thoughts or questions!

Blackguards!

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In the Belly of the Beast

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Darkness.

You are awake.

You are alive.

You must break free.

Open your eyes.

You force your eyelids open, grunting and groaning with effort as if a great weight has been placed upon them by an unknown hand. Your mind feels unfocused and your flesh trembles with weakness. Why this is, you cannot say. There is no memory of what came before this moment, only the distant recollection of your defeat and the subsequent disorganized days of incarceration. How long have you been in this place, this Maw? There is no answer. There has only been darkness, and silence, and the cold. But now, there is light. You blink your eyes, trying to adjust your blurred vision. You catch a shadow of movement to your side, but is powerless to investigate. Growling, you try to move your limbs, but to no avail.

You have woken. That voice –

You shut your eyes once more, not sure you are ready to face her again. Face it again. But there is no escape. No matter how hard you try, you cannot break free. With a final grunt of frustration, you open your eyes to face the terror. This time, your vision is clear.

You're in a large chamber, dimly lit by a ghastly blueish light of unknown origin. The stone walls are damp with moisture, rising upwards into a vault above. There are other entities here, their forms veiled in shadow, but you barely notice any of this. You only have eyes for the entity that stands before you in the center of the room. The moment your gaze falls upon her face, despair takes hold of your heart with merciless talons of ice.

The Warden.

She (It? You're not sure the Warden can be counted as a woman) stands perfectly still, observing you. Your mind screams whenever you lay eyes upon her; something is wrong. It is as if she is not really there, not real at all, but at the same time the only real thing in the room. Even the light and the shadows seem to fall upon her incorrectly, as if they have a conscience of their own and are reluctant to touch the abomination. Time stretches, your heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

The Warden remains motionless, as if you aren't there. You strain again, but cannot move. Inspecting your body, you find no bounds. You're upright, clothed as you had been the day of your capture, still as a statue. You grunt again, your frustration mingled with panic, fruitlessly straining against the invisible force holding you in place.

Patience, the Warden says, her voice like breaking glass. All in due time. They are waking.

The very next moment, one of the shadowed figures begins to stir.

Blackguards!

The Black Adder

The Black Adder

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Name

Thengil of Karmanjar, alias the Blackadder

Race

Human

Gender

Male

Age

600 years

Appearance

Thengil has a weathered and disheveled look to him. His grey hair and beard is unkempt, his sunkissed fair skin scarred and wrinkled, his eyes dark and sunken. He has a sinewy build, once well muscled and athletic, but shrivelled with age. The clothes and armor he wears, once rich and splendorous, is tattered and in disrepair. "Fallen from grace" is often the first words that comes to mind to an observer when asked to describe him. The one thing that still tells of his glorious past in his statuesque poise and stoic expression, an indication that, though fallen on hard times, there is still iron in the old man.

Personality

Thengil is a still and quiet man, prone to observation and introspection. He rarely acts on a whim, disliking rash action and mindless violence. Tempering this restraint is an iron willed disciplin, and once he has set his mind to something he rarely lets up, to the point of pig-headed stubborness. Thengil has developed a dark streak in his old age, not a defeatist but certainly pessimistic outlook on the world. There is a deep seated pain in his soul that cannot be mended, fueled by traumatic memories and losses. He still values honor highly, but hates himself for past deeds and choices, and thinks of himself a villain due for just punishment. These destructive feelings makes him look past the wrongdoings of others, or even himself, even though he knows he shouldn't. He tells himself that he doesn't care, that it's too late or too little, but this is a lie. Deep down the fire of his chivalrous ideals still burn, and his conscience gnaws at his guts.

Background

Thengil was born to a noble family in the fading city of Karmanjaka in the northern Westerlands. As the third son, he was destined for knighthood, not lordship. His childhood was joyful, surrounded by loving parents and close siblings. He was well-educated, mastering the skills of a knight and squiring under an uncle whose name is now forgotten. Thengil earned his spurs in his teens, ready for a life of duty.

From a young age, Thengil was plagued by strange, prophetic dreams and an uncanny sense of premonition. These visions set him apart, and one foretold a meeting with a man bearing a wyrm-emblazoned crest. Days later, he met Berondil Hiselion, emissary of the Roquen Lindwir—the Dragon Riders. Chosen by fate and paired with a dragon at birth, Thengil left his family forever to join their ancient, magical order.

The Roquen Lindwir trained him for decades, teaching both knightly and arcane arts. In his later years, he completed the order’s sacred blood-bond ritual, binding him to his dragon, Dunkelwirn, and extending his life unnaturally. For centuries, Thengil served, becoming a respected rider despite being the youngest during the rise of the White Tiger.

When trouble stirred in the realm, Thengil had a grim vision: his order would turn against the King and be annihilated. Sharing his vision, he was accused of treachery by the masters, who had foreseen a black snake—an omen of betrayal. Refusing to back down, he was banished on pain of death after five centuries of service.

Determined to save what he could, Thengil turned to King Tyronde, offering his allegiance to prevent the horrors of war. He brokered a promise: those Dragon Riders who surrendered would be spared, and the King’s armies would not march on the Boreals until Thengil's mission was complete. Thus, the Black Adder began his dark crusade against his former brothers.

Determined to prevent his vision from becoming reality, Thengil secretly reached out to trusted members of the Roquen Lindwir, urging them to see reason. A few, swayed by his conviction and their own doubts, joined his cause, forming a splinter faction bent on saving the order from its doomed path. Together, they sought to persuade the rest to lay down their arms and avoid a war against the King.

When diplomacy failed, the rift turned to violence. The two factions clashed in the icy peaks of the Boreals, a brutal battle of knights and dragons that shook the mountains themselves. Amid the chaos, Thengil faced Berondil, his old mentor, who accused him of betrayal. Thengil pleaded with him one last time, but when Berondil refused to yield, Thengil was forced to strike him down. The victory was bittersweet, as the splinter faction emerged victorious but gravely weakened.

Believing their struggle over, Thengil and his allies descended the mountains to negotiate peace with King Tyronde. Instead, they were met with treachery. Fearing the power of the surviving dragon riders, the King condemned them all as traitors. His armies attacked the battered remnants of the Roquen Lindwir, and the riders fought valiantly but were ultimately overpowered.

Thengil’s greatest agony came when Dunkelwirn, his closest companion and bondmate, fell in battle. The severing of their blood-bond left him shattered, but there was no time to grieve. Captured by the King’s forces, Thengil was delivered into the hands of the Warden, a cruel and cunning agent of the crown. Branded a traitor, he was cast into the Maw—the most infamous prison in the Westerlands, a place from which no soul had ever returned.

Talents

Thengil is both knight and scholar, a master of the blade and the quill. His decades of study have made him a repository of draconic lore, versed in the secrets of wyrms and their ancient bonds. Beyond his martial prowess, he wields arcane power with precision and skill. His talents include the ability to sense and influence thoughts through telepathy, command the unseen forces of telekinesis, and glimpse the threads of fate through premonition. These gifts, bestowed by the Roquen Lindwir’s ancient rites, make him a force both formidable and enigmatic.

Flaws

Thengil is a man burdened by the weight of his own choices, an old soul hollowed by centuries of loss and betrayal. He sees himself as a traitor, haunted by the faces of those he has slain and the trust he has broken. Bitter self-loathing festers within him, a poison that saps his resolve and clouds his judgment. Though he carries immense knowledge and power, his heart is a battlefield of regret, leaving him vulnerable to despair and the shadows of his past.

Equipment

His clothes and armor, tattered and worn from battle. He also carries a longsword forged from star-steel, a gift from Berondil on his inauguration to the order and his most treasured possession.

Miscellaneous

N/A

Blackguards!

@Andreyich Cool stuff! Accepted. You can but him in the character tab 🙂