Location:Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Southern Plateau, Dundas Island
First Class #2.13Shaken Up
Interaction(s):N/A(Open to interaction)
This place was supposed to be safe. That was the thought that was going through his head while he was attending Cass's funeral. Hyperion, of all people, was at the school. How did he get in? Plus, what he did to Cass for defying. Cass was brave for what he did regardless if it got him killed. Not many people would do that, and those pricks that joined Hyperion's side. Ruling as Gods, what was that nonsense? Hyperhumans are not gods, and Hyperhumans bleed the same as normal humans and can be killed as easily.
Anger started to swell in him, but Efraim remembered where he was and did his best to calm himself. He is at a funeral, and one for someone he did not know. Efraim wished he did after seeing how brave that guy was. Too late now as he watched Cass's coffin get launched off to sea caught on fire. A Viking funeral was something Efraim never expected to witness, and it felt somehow right to him. Cass being buried and honored this way.
After the funeral, Efraim lingered for a bit. Staring at the calm ocean before walking away. Why did he not do anything? Efraim questioned himself. He did nothing as Hyperion killed Cass and watched as those pricks joined him. Hyperion killed one of their own, and they still joined him. Anger once again started to grow in him as he walked.
Yes, he has to attend therapy because of what happened, but how can he feel okay? A terrorist got into the school, killed, and left without anyone stopping him. If he got in the first time, what is stopping him from doing it a second time? Is this school actually safe, or not?
But more importantly, he did nothing, and bone started to grow on his hands. In anger and frustration, Efraim punched the closest thing to him, which happened to be a tree. Breathing deeply as he looked at his fist and kept his fist on the tree, Efraim still felt frustrated and turned around and started to lean against the tree. He has been here a week, and this is how life here is turning out. Pizza and murder. Some school life so far, and Efraim would stay in his spot with bone armor still on his hands. Thinking about things, and well, he got time for that now.
"Roger that, Queen," Mateo replied as he was finishing setting up in the perfect spot to snipe some pricks. Looking through the scope of his silenced Remington MSR and tracking the IFVs as they came to them. To say that Mateo feeling tension was a understatement but only one he knew how to control. It helped that even though they are in a bad situation. Now they can turn the tables on these Artemis goons and give one last surprise to them.
"Contact!"
Mateo heard on the radio and watched with his scope as one of the IFVs exploded. "Right on Queen," he said to himself as he watched the lead IFV turn into scrap metal. Then as two other IFVs got hit by Glitch and Chaos. Three out of the four IFVs are down, and only one is left. Mateo smiled as they were getting payback on Artemis. Hack our drone and light us up. It will take more than a drone to take us out, and we still have time to get some payback. But his job was not the IFVs, and he was sure that his teammates could get the last one. Mateo's job is the troopers.
Now it was his turn, as he noticed some disembarked troops were on the move near the ship. So he took aim at and focused on the lead trooper. Slowing his breathing, and things seemed to slow down as he aimed, and once he was ready. Mateo pulled the trigger, and the trooper dropped to the confusion of his teammates. Mateo quickly bolted the next bullet and sniped the nearest trooper before the rest went to cover. Mateo watched them and waited as he bolted his next bullet. Then one of them peeked their head out enough and was quickly terminated.
They must be scared since not only is Mateo cloaked, but his sniper is silenced as well. So a very hard target to find and hear. But did he feel sympathy for them? Almost but these are Artemis goons after all, and they did hack their drone, so. They had it coming, and as his targets tried to move and Mateo picked off one and then the final one tried to run, they were taken down as well. One squad gone, he thought, and he moved on to other targets.
Mateo spotted a group that looked like they were going to get close to Glitch and Chaos. Can not have that, so he soon focused on the group and repeat. Picking them off as fast as he can bolt his sniper rifle. He went to reload and kept looking for targets once the threat to Glitch and Chaos was gone. There were still targets out there and Mateo just kept sniping. Time to see if they can pull this off.
In true Mandalorian fashion (according to almost every Coruscanti holo-vid ever made at least), the most striking thing about Toryn looks is... well, how little most know about it, what with how downright shy the Mandalorian is to be seen outside of his armour. Though a brief glance at the report drafted up by the Academy's medical examiner upon his arrival may provide some insight into exactly why this is; the dispassionate, clinical record noting the presence of scarring from blaster fire, shrapnel and vibro-weaponry throughout much of his body, with a not-insignificant amount of metal fragments still lodged in the Mando's torso in areas where they'd be risky to remove surgically. Additionally, the good Doctor describes at length a series a chemical burns traveling up Toryn's right arm into his shoulder— the apparent legacy of an inopportune breach in his armourweave in the middle of an Imperial gas attack during the Mandalorian Revolt— and that his left eye is, in fact, a cloned replacement; a procedure of questionable legality at best owing to it's chances of unforeseen complication.
What most do know, however, is that Toryn stands at around 5'9" and though not shaped like a bodybuilder or powerlifter, must be built with incredibly dense, potent musculature with how he carries himself and what can be gleaned through the shifting and flexing of his apparent uniform— that being his usual combination of armourweave, Jedi robes and beskar'gam. And, of course the sight of his scarred, sometimes stubbly mouth and chin on those occasions where he tilts his helmet up slightly to eat something. Often with a wry little smirk if he catches someone staring as he does so.
Rank:
Apprentice
Personality:
Reserved, extraordinarily clever and strong-willed, Toryn at first comes across as a consummate— if dispassionate— professional. That's not to say he's in anyway cold or unfriendly, mind you, and can in fact be almost charming in his own fashion, in spite of how he wields his bone-dry wit like a weapon. More that the man in question is an extraordinarily private person; rarely talking about himself nor sharing what he's thinking or showing what he's really feeling at any given moment and responding to any questions about any of the above with either a well-timed joke to change the topic or as laconic a response as possible to end the conversation right there. Seemingly preferring instead to focus on whatever task he has at hand in the moment and generally treating his (albeit, brief) time at the Order up to this point as just another job and wanting to keep some measure of professional distance himself and his peers.
...Though that doesn't quite tell the whole story.
For while he rarely shares much of himself, Toryn never disparages others for doing so and is always willing to listen patiently and, more importantly, help if needed. Asking nothing in return and more often than not, without actually being asked. Then there's his service history to consider, both during the war and what little record exists of his mercenary activities thereafter; the former, where he'd developed a reputation for nigh-suicidal charges into harm's way to save his comrades— Mandalorian or not— and the latter, where he became known for only taking on very certain kinds of jobs, often for less pay (or none at all) to put some mad warlord or depraved crimeboss into the dirt.
These things speak to a deeper well of compassion than Toryn will likely ever admit. And provide vital context to how, even if he never asks or is ever asked to be, he always seems to know his role— as the unbreakable rock that can always be relied upon to do what needs to be done. Or die trying.
...Even if people like Kada Vaa would note with concern that he was a much happier and less closed-off man when they first met two years ago.
Also a whole lot less shy about taking off his helmet.
Lightsaber:
Standard single-hilt with an orange kyber crytal. Though he has at least drawn up some blueprints for a crossguard design in his free time.
Skills:
Veteran Supercommando: Trained since the day he could walk in armour and hold a blaster like all good Mando boys and girls, Toryn was— to put it bluntly— extremely, alarmingly, damn-well terrifyingly good at his old job. Which, though his career has taken a rather drastic turn recently, still grants him a unique well of experience and talents to draw from amongst the majority of Luke's New Jedi Order.
(Slightly Modified) Form VI Niman: During his short time at the Academy, Toryn's main focus in regards to lightsaber training has been in the Way of the Rancor, valuing it for it's versatility and flexibility over the more rote and automatic movements of the more 'aggressive' styles. He's also found it to be more open than others to some level of adaptation, and has been quietly experimenting with incorporating techniques from Mandalorian swordplay into it to truly make it his own.
Efficient Armourer/Weaponsmith: "A Mando that doesn't know how to take care of his own kit is a Mando that ain't gonna live very long."; a lesson Toryn took to heart at a very young age. Being not only skilled at taking care of his own gear, but also being capable of something approaching Mandalorian Murder Sorcery if left alone at a workbench with rudimentary tools, half his weight in coffee and of course, malicious intent.
That's not to say this talent of his exists exclusively in the confines of a workshop, however. For Toryn does have a bit of a reputation for improvising in the field; being known for shenanigans ranging from jury-rigging an improvised thermal detonator from a half-dozen tibanna gas cylinders, a wooden stick and some duct tape to things like blowing out a mainframe on the other side of a building by ripping the fuse out of an ion grenade and shoving it into the right place inside a wall panel.
Decent Pilot: Having grown up on and around starships most of his life, Toryn's not too bad behind the controls of most craft. Though, he'll be the first to admit that there's better pilots out there.
Ad-Hoc Ship Mechanic: As the note above, Toryn has a pretty good handle on how to keep most starships up and running or, failing that, knows enough that he can figure it out most of the time through some brief trial and error and just a liiiitle bit of redneckery. Though if someone comes along who's an actual mechanic by trade, he's more than happy to let them take the lead and just be the extra set of hands or the guy holding the light.
Sketch Artist: A talent picked up over the war years when there was an excess of 'Hurry up and wait'. Honestly, he's actually pretty good at it; not just with blueprints for weapons, but people and especially scenery and architecture. Though he hasn't really had the spark to do it in a while.
Culinary Skill: Among his own people, considered a pretty good cook. Though it's also worth bearing in mind that the Mandalorian flavour palette can fall anywhere between 'Very Spicy' to 'HELP ME I AM MELTING', so Toryn's cooking might also count as just a bit of a warcrime when served among the wider galaxy.
Equipment:
Beskar'gam: Toryn's signature armour. Passed down unto him from his grandfather, who in turn had received from his own in a chain of hand-me-down going back generations, to which it owes it's somewhat 'vintage' appearance. Still, includes all the necessities for modern operations; a visor with multiple vision modes, a comms suite built into the helmet, the ability to seal itself atmospherically to protect against hostile environments or the void of space, magnetic hook-ups on the back for a jet-pack and on the soles of the boots to latch onto a hull or deck in the void if the need arises, etc...
Vintage Mandalorian Pistol: Another relic from his grandpa's day— a blaster pistol made for killing other Mandalorians. Hits like a damned truck, though the recoil takes some getting used to...
Lightsaber: Exactly what it says on the tin, a good ol' trusty lasersword.
Kal: Mandalorian fighting knife. Usually hidden in a boot.
Red Scarf: Hand-woven from a comfortable, fire-proof armourweave-based fabric by his mum. He's very rarely seen without it.
Personal Effects:
The Beskar'Ham: A cute little plushie of an anthropomorphic pig wearing Mandalorian armour; a gift from a little twi'lek girl he encountered during the Liberation of Taris. Has a place of honour on the desk in Toryn's quarters.
Bes'bev'ika: Traditional woodwind instrument among his people, similar to an ocarina. A memento from Toryn's childhood, it sits next to the Beskar'Ham on his desk.
Assorted Others: A few photos on his desk of Toryn's family and Aliit'ika. A few more featuring some other wartime friends (often in the middle of doing some silly shit) either on the desk or hanging on the wall. A few sketchbooks he's been doodling in since he was a boy, stuff like that.
Box o' Memories: Where Toryn keeps mementos from the war, including but not limited to; a tattered, stained Imperial banner stolen half out of spite and half to make an improvised field-dressing. Some bits of shrapnel that tried and failed to kill him, a few medals from the New Republic he's still not entirely sure how to feel about and a war-journal. Kept under his bed, out of sight and out of mind.
Weakness:
Mandalorian Complications: As a Mandalorian, Toryn already stands out almost immediately in any given crowd. Couple that with the reputation his people have developed over the course of a few thousand years and the post-war friction between Coruscant and Mandalore and he will most assuredly at best be incredibly unwelcome in most parts of the Core Worlds and the subject of constant suspicion, even amongst his fellow Jedi.
Old Wounds: One doesn't spend almost half their life at war and come out completely unscathed, and Toryn is no exception. From the grievous scars cover much of his body, the painful (and loud) cracking of his bones in the morning and a few times throughout the day and the occasional migraine brought about by his transplanted eye, it's pretty easy to surmise that the man is almost always in some kind of physical pain.
This does not tell the entire story however, as the Academy's medical staff have discretely noted down and passed on to the Knights and Master Skywalker that— even with all that Toryn has been through— much of this pain appears to be psychosomatic in nature. Coupled with frequent nightmares and the relatively recent appearance of an intermittent tremor in his hands whenever he's idle or left to let his mind wander (yet curiously vanishes when he's under stress or given something to do) which point to a much more alarming problem, one that is only compounded by his outright refusal to talk about it, if he's even aware of it at all.
Background:
Born to a House of Mandalorians that chose exile to the stars in the years after the Civil War as opposed to sharing a broken moon with the Death Watch— whom they viewed with a special kind of disgust— or throwing down their weapons and armour and joining the so-called 'New Mandalorians' in Sundari, who had preached and screamed about peace the entire conflict but hadn't lifted a finger to help anyone that didn't immediately buy into their ideals. Toryn's childhood was... actually kinda normal for a Mando kid, all things considered; despite growing up on a nomadic flotilla of Clan ships instead of anywhere in the Home Sector, him and his Aliit'ika (lit: 'Little Clan', his closest friends growing up) still went through the same beats as just about any other would— albeit, probably with a bit more intensity given the circumstances and the need of the Clans to have as many many hands working as they could.
About thirty seconds after he could walk, talk and hold a blaster (just enough time for mum and dad to stop cheering and his big sister to stop hugging him) he began to learn how to fight. By the age of six, he was apprenticed to an Armourer, repairing and maintaining gear for the teams that'd be sent out on Merc Detail to earn the House money and supplies in addition to his regular training. By twelve, he and his Aliit'ika were finally put out into the field on Recon Duty to 'Learn the Ancient Art of Sneak-and-Peak' as his grandpa put it and by sixteen him and the whole lot of his friends were finally inducted into the Ori'ramikad; The Supercommandos.
Juuuust in time for the rise of the woman who'd become known as Mandalore the Liberator. Who, enraged by the state of her homeworld— ruled by a brutal Imperial Collaborationist regime under the remnants of the Death Watch, disarmed and enslaved by Zygerrian slavers given free reign to drag anyone they pleased out of their homes to work until dead in the mines to fuel the Imperial war-machine or off-world to Zygerria itself where an even worse fate awaited them— would rally the disparate Nomadic clans scattered across the galaxy (those of Toryn's House included) and come home with sword in hand and wrath in her heart. Where she and the Nomads would link up with Fenn Shysa and his insurgent Mandalorian Protectors, and together form the nucleus of an organized Mandalorian Army.
Thus began the The Great Mandalorian Revolt.
A short, but brutal affair that would see not just the homeworld, but the entire Mandalore Sector erupt in flames. Where the Imperials (still reeling from the loss at Yavin), the Collaborator Regime and the Zygerrians would go blind with absolute panic trying to quell the uprising. Even resorting to terror-bombing and gas attacks on their labour camps, mines and whole cities. Only to find that not only did that not work— in fact, it only seemed to make the Mandos fight harder— but that it also caught the attention of the wider Rebel Alliance who were more than happy to run all kinds of guns into the sector, raiding any Imperial shipping going in and out of it and watch with all kinds of glee as the Empire suffered all kinds of consequences for sticking their proverbial schlongs in the Mother of all Hornet Nests.
This would be Toryn's trial by fire. Well, one of many as Mandalore— now free and very heavily armed thanks to smugglers from the Alliance, the seizure of all the arms and armour previously confiscated by the Death Watch and the discovery of a colossal vein of Beskar— aligned itself to the Rebel cause, joining the left flank of the Hydian-Perlemian campaign; both to tie up Imperial resources in the Galactic North and away from the Rebellion advances further south but also to relieve pressure on the vital shipyards of Mon Calamari. So, for the next two years, Toryn and his Aliit'ika would be constantly on the move and constantly fighting; in places like Taris, which rapidly devolved into a close quarters, three-dimensional slog as they took the city-planet room by room by blasting through walls and floors, or the dense forested highlands of Serenno or the open plains of Telos.
Or Mirial, which our boy remembers quite fondly for the fact that by the time they all got there, the Imps had already bugged the hell out. Allowing him to spend basically an entire week just napping and another after that acquainting himself with two of what would become some of his favourite words in the entire Galactic Dictionary: Mirialan Barbeque.
He'd need that reprieve before his next destination—
Zygerria. Where the Imps he had meant to be fighting on Mirial, and most other Imperial forces in the region had pulled back to, rather alarmed at the idea of all those slaves on the planet— who had more than enough reason to hate the Empire— suddenly getting free on the literal doorstep of the factory planets of the deeper corporate sector. And so, with the remnants of the Empire's northern forces digging in for one last stand, both prongs of the New Republic campaign converging on the system with an army drawn from across the Galactic Northeast and beyond, brand new warships straight from the driveyards on Mon Calamari and the Mandalore herself assuming overall command in the absence of someone like Ackbar— who was busy fighting his way into the core— the stage was now set for the final, bloody climax of the entire Rimward Front.
If Toryn rarely speaks about the war, then he very specifically speaks of the Burning of Zygerria even less. The savage fighting, the decision of the Imps to begin 'Liquidating Living Assets' across the world and the subsequent reprisals by outraged Mandalorian and New Republic soldiers leaving a bitter taste in his mouth for the rest of his days. It also made the medal they stuffed into his hands afterward feel like a slap in the face... but he managed to stomach it at the time as he knew that after a slog like that, he was likely to be on leave for a while as their forces reorganized and resupplied. And by the way things were going, it was entirely likely that the whole damned war'd be over by then.
...That was right up until Toryn, now an Alor'ad (the rough equivalent of a Captain) in charge of a Company was called up by the Mandalore directly who informed the young man that she was voluntelling him and his commandos to grab their shit and get ready to move; as a New Republic Admiral by the name of Renkar had been asking for them by name for operations in the coming Battle of Jakku.
Within a week, they'd be linking up with elements of the 10th Mountain Division from Corellia, the Tarisian 2nd Airborne and a unit of SpecForce shocktroopers, most of them Alderaanian. The batshit plan the Admiral had gathered them all together for? To be inserted into the atmosphere while the Imperial Fleet was busy duking it out with Ackbar in orbit, ride low and fast to within a mile of the Kiras Plateau— a huge rock formation absolutely bristling with AA and orbital defense batteries, sneak up to it, climb a sheer rock wall for a few kilometers, seize the base and then hold it while every AT-AT, Stormtrooper and Imperial army grunt in the same timezone started saturating them from all sides. And also start taking pot-shots at the Imperial Fleet above with their own damned guns, if they had the time.
'Operation: Mynock' the Mirialan Madman had called it. And hoooo boy, was it a helluva time; with the facility itself falling quickly, but their expected relief being delayed by the dogged Imperial resistance above. Leaving them all— a few hundred effectively trapped there on the surface— trading fire from all sides and repelling whole divisions of the Stormtrooper Corps and Imperial Army coming up the gentler slope up the one side of the plateau they'd specifically avoided on the way there because they knew the Imps'd be watching it like hawks.
But on they held— despite a casualty rate approaching ninety percent. Until finally, the New Republic fleet managed to break through and without the batteries on the Kiras Plateau to worry about, had free reign to deploy fighter squadrons and landingcraft en masse for miles around it. Finally bringing relief to the beleaguered defenders, who were cycled out on the first available ship.
Fighting would continue for months afterward, of course. But for Toryn and those on the plateau? The war was effectively over. Toryn and his Aliit'ika (what was left of them, anyway) would largely begin to part ways over the months following the official peace treaty, some staying, most of them going into civilian jobs, a few of them into teaching or private contracting and one or two just seeming to vanish altogether. Toryn for his part, would stay on with the Mandalorian Army— as, by that point, it was damn near the only thing he knew— eventually reaching the rank of Al'verde (Major) and spending much of the next three years either operating in Mandalorian Space itself, loaned out to the New Republic as a mercenary to 'Solve Problems' when they came up and every once in a while popping down to Anaxes with a few Supercommandos to play OpFor during military exercises; traumatizing an entire generation of New Republic recruits as the 'Scary Guy in the Woods' despite being not that much older than most of them and actually younger than a few.
Honestly? It was a life that suited him. He was out there actually helping the damned Galaxy, in his own little way and, despite a cooling of relations between Coruscant and Mandalore caused by some Senators from the former calling for the annexation of the latter and not being particularly impressed by the Mandalore's official reply of an actual paper note with the words "Fuck Off." written upon it in cursive High Galactic text, actually felt pretty damned good about it.
...But then one day, Toryn simply vanished. Him and his team seemingly dropping off the radar completely for nearly two years, until he was found— alone— at a bar on Terminus of all places by a Jedi recruiter chasing a funny feeling in the Force. Now a much colder and more reserved man than he'd been before his absence and not at all forthcoming about where he'd been, where his team was or what he'd been doing all this time.
He did, however, agree to follow said recruiter back to D'Qar. But only on the condition that he be allowed to travel home first to see his folks, to let them know he was alive, to pick up some of his things and also to make his report to the Mandalore.
In the months since, he's lived as an Apprentice among the Order. Studious, hard working and with a whole lot less incident than many thought would be the case with a Mandalorian enrolled in the academy, but still very closed off about where he'd gone and why they'd found him at the very edge of the Unknown Regions of all things.
Antarctica, the seventh continent and of ice and snow. For centuries, it was unknown to humanity until the 1840s. When the Americans and French discovered the isolated land for the first time. With the French setting foot on the continent for the first time. Since then, there have been several expeditions to explore Antarctica, and a treaty was signed to safeguard the land from most human activities, safe for science and tourism.
Which to most, Antarctica is just a land of nothing but ice and snow. They would be right and only a few thousand people would live in Antarctica as scientists to study it. Though there have been discoveries that Antarctica had once been a much warmer place. Fossilized plants have been uncovered that hint that the land had once been tropical in the far past. Giving the thought to what could have once lived in Antarctica. But, any more fossils and ideas would be buried deep beneath the ice.
Then, a major discovery was made in 2023 in the McMurdo Sound. Thanks to global warming, the resulting melting ice saw a glacier break off and collapse into the sea, and to everyone's surprise. Laying exposed was an ancient stone temple. When it was discovered, a team of scientists was summoned and dispatched to the site as soon it was possible. Proof that sentient life had once lived in this frozen land, and many were eager to study this temple.
But, for a group of scientists would do more than just study the temple. For in the main chamber of the temple while studying it, the temple would activate and send the group far into the past. Back when Antarctica was lush and green. Now in this unknown land, these scientists now have to survive and in the process. Learn more about what had lived in the land, both the animal and the sentient, and perhaps find a way home. If they can find a way home.
Rules: 1. Expected to follow standard site rules 2. No godmodding or powergaming or etc... 3. No OP characters 4. A max of two characters 5. Minimum one paragraph
Overview:
Hello and welcome to the rp. So as you can see, you will be playing as scientists that have been sent back in time to when Antarctica was lush and full of life. Though I will be allowing non-scientists in the rp as long as it makes sense for them to be there. What you will encounter in green Antarctica life that includes dinosaurs, non dinos, flora both common and unique, rare minerals/rocks, an unknown sentient race, and some magic in that mix.
While trying to survive in this lush Antarctica and maybe make some friends or foes in their journey to find a way back home and to the present. Which I will be doing less linear survival rp, mainly after the first act, the characters are free to do what they desire. So while there will be only one way home, there will be several ways to reach that end goal of going home. And hopefully not get eaten in the process. Plus, if we get far enough, it will be possible to play as a native if anyone chooses.
So that is it and if anyone has questions, feel free to ask.
A thing of marvel, the Radiant Gate, the only thing that can take someone to Ordai’el. The effort it must have been to make, but it was to be expected to save Ordai’el from its troubles. Vel had been to Ordai’el and lived there for a two years. He knows how important the city is and how important it was for him to come here.
Back again, Vel thought to himself as he arrived at the place as the light of the magic that brought him here waned. Light that, even while wearing one of his light-blocking goggles, blinded him for a time. But here he is, back in the holy city, and he can remember how lush with life the city was back then. But now, after a quick scan of his surroundings. It was clear that it looked abandoned and with no sight of life. If there are still living souls that linger in the city, they are not near him.
Looking up at the sky did little to scare him. Vel grew up underground. There was nothing but a black rocky ceiling above him. No light but ones from torches from outsiders that venture down to trade with the Orph cities. Since the light was of no use to an Orph with them being able to see in the dark. However, a thought did come to him that since there was no sun and yet there was light. Does that mean he could take off his goggles?
Vel took another look at the dark sky, and for a moment, he placed his hand on the side of his goggles before putting his hand away. No, he thought. He should not risk blinding himself if the light proved to be overwhelming for him. So the goggles remained, and Vel walked to the others.
"My name is Vel Arrianus, and I have also been here before, so I can help as a guide like lady Blackwell to an extent." Vel then took stock of his companions, and the one that stood out the most was Varandas. Mainly the crystal stuck in his chest and his appearance. Vel would have said something, but now is not the time for that. Like it or not, these people are his companions now as they ventured into the city and faced who knows what. Vel looked down at his ring, gazing upon the symbol of Dhorbris. "I am here now and I will see my duty done." Saying it under his breath so the others could not hear him. Now to see if he has failed his duty or not.
Outside in the Village || Talking to someone || Semi Relaxed, Semi Sad
Zrer was enjoying the nice weather as he was walking to the library when he spotted Boro with a wheelbarrow filled with books. A wheelbarrow? Why is he using a wheelbarrow? Zrer confusedly thought as the village's sole librarian spotted him and approached him.
"Hello there, Boro." Putting on a smile for him and speaking with a slight accent. He was wearing his normal attire. "Good morning to you too, and happy Market Day."
It was nice that Boro was helping him with his problem even if Zrer did not know much about the man. Well, a person, since he has no idea what he is, and asking just seems rude to him. But what Zrer can tell is that Boro is a magic user and one with a love for books. It almost reminds Zrer of a friend he had back at the academy but that memory is for another time.
"Yeah, Boro, it did not... But it was a step in the right direction." Zrer putting on a semi-hopeful expression on his face. Even if it failed, it was still useful to him."I am kinda surprised your library had a book related to regaining one's magic, but that means this library of ours is special." Especially in a village like this one, Zrer thought, and he would hand the book over to Boro. "Also, how are you doing today Boro? Good, I hope."
In the beginning, there was only primordial chaos. For untold ages until a being slowly manifested from the chaos. Laion it would call itself and, after ages of being alone and bored in a sea of chaos. Laion decided on changing that and used its power to create. The first thing they were a single solar system and moved to the fourth planet with one moon. Playful sculpting the planet to their desire, and when it was done, Laion created the gods to safeguard the planet and created the godly realm known as Leva, where the gods will reside. One thing about how the gods were created, each one was created as a pair that those domains were opposite of each other. So they would never be alone and act as a balance. The first godly pair was Aleyr, God of Light, and Neheyr, God of Darkness. Once Laion was satisfied after making the gods, they left the planet and went on to create the rest of the universe.
For ages, the gods safeguarded the planet now named Isyria and added their own creations to it. The most important of them was humanity as the gods watched and guided over the ages. Even having relationships with them and having children with them. These children are known to the world as demi-gods. Mortals with the spark of the divine from their godly parent. These demi-gods would be coveted by mortal rulers for their abilities and the honor of having a demi-god in their service. And there are rare instances of a demi-god leading a kingdom.
And for one demi-god, Balathu, wanted more than just to be a demi-god and either serve a king or to be a king or travel the world. He wanted to be the ruler of Isyria and knew that he had to deal with the gods if he were to ever do that. So he came up with a plan and had the help of Neheyr, as he was growing wavy of his brother Aleyr since making himself the sole leader of the gods. As governing, the gods were supposed to be a joint effort between the both of them, and Neheyr took this as a betrayal. So Balathu, with the help of a growing army of followers that were augmented by Neheyr. Balathu started his quest to take over the world and moved to the Holy Mountain of Calemis, which held the link between the mortal world and Leva. After betraying Neheyr and banishing him back to Leva. Balathu used forbidden magic and did the unthinkable. He severed the connection between the mortal world and Leva. Almost instantly, the world reacted to this violently and caused upheaval throughout Isyria. Violent storms raged, earthquakes rocked the planet, and more and in the end, after it was all done. No nation was left standing, and Isyria was left in a sorry state. Its soil is less fertile, its rivers and lakes less full, and even the sun itself was affected. While it was still shining, its light was dimmer, like something was covering it.
Balathu survived this and before he could enact his next step of taking control of the world. A group of demi-gods who had discovered Balathu's plans went out to stop him before he could bring more harm to the world. They ended up killing him but not before his followers killed the group except for one that got away. Leaderless, Balathu's followers, after his death, were lost of what to do now that their leader was gone. While their augments made them a force to be feared, it had started to change them. Now calling themselves Reavers, they now are trying to survive by pillaging the remaining settlements and are now led by a man known as the Reaver King.
But, the Reavers are not the only hazard that exists in the wasteland. With the gate to Leva closed, that means that the gateway to the afterlife is closed as well. Since the afterlife was located in Leva, so all of those dead souls that were killed after the severing are now stuck on Isyria. With nowhere to go, these lost souls have started to haunt the living and possess dead bodies. Creating the undead and now roaming the land seeking flesh to sustain themselves. Survivors now regularly burn dead bodies that can be found to counter this, but it is just a temporary measure since nothing can be done to get rid of the lost souls that now roam the land.
Along with the monsters that call Isyria home. Before the severing, these monsters used to be common in the world until humans and later first demi-gods appeared and went on quests to kill these monsters. Keeping them in check and living on the edge of human civilization. Now after the severing and the downfall of civilization, these monsters have started to appear outside of their normal territory. Making the already dangerous wasteland even more deadly.
Now of what of the demi-gods? The children of the gods that reside on Isyria. Those that survived the ordeal now find themselves fighting for survival in this new world, and one demi-god, Syagros has a different plan. For he does not just want to survive but to try to restore the world to what it used to be. Gathering what demi-gods he can find and settle in a settlement in an old fort called Byllina with a group of survivors. Here they plan on how to restore the world with his fellow demi-gods. Whether or not they can do this is up to fate.
Rules: 1. Expected to follow standard site rules 2. No godmodding or powergaming or etc... 3. No OP characters 4. A max of one character 5. Minimum of one paragraph 6. No mind control abilities
Overview
Hello and welcome to the rp. It has been three years since the severing, and in this rp you be playing as demi-gods that are on a mission to try to restore the world to what it used to be. Based out the settlement of Byllina which is located in an old fort. How the rp will run is that there will be quests that act as both basic and main story arcs that players will be expected to be in. Though there are opportunities for side quests or quests run by players during breaks in between quests. Also, it is possible to fail a quest based on how your chars do during a quest but . Just let me know the details of the quest you had in mind to see if it would be acceptable before launching the quest. The world was in the middle of a bronze age when the severing occurred, and as such, bronze weapons, armor, and tools are the norm for the world.
But, there exist weapons better than bronze, either star metal or celestial bronze. Celestial bronze is bronze that comes from Leva, mined by servants of Vulher. It is both stronger and more durable than normal bronze. Along with being potent to monsters that live in the world. Normally a chosen demi-god of either great prestige or skill would be granted a weapon or armor made of celestial bronze. Since the only way to get celestial bronze is access to Leva. It is now a finite resource, and all weapons, armor, and other objects are highly prized and sought after.
Star metal is a rarer and harder resource to work with but, one that is on par with celestial bronze, and some say greater. Harvested from meteorites that rain from the heavens. Star metal is a highly sought-after metal before the severing, as not only it was on par with celestial bronze but, is said to contain a certain property that makes it potent against unnatural beings. Obviously, no one starts with star metal weapons or armor, and I might let some people have celestial bronze weapons or armor depending on the quality of the app.
Now, what you will be facing in the wasteland, raiders/bandits, undead, monsters, and the Reavers. The wasteland is a dangerous place that most have survived have done so by banding together and fortifying their settlements. Like with Byllina which is the fortified settlement that the players will start in. Located in an old fort, Byllina where Syagros has gathered what demi-gods he could find and this will be their base and home in the wasteland. Which boasts a medium-sized but mostly self-sufficient population. Which is located near a major river with a bridge on it, and the fort has a well inside in case the fort gets besieged, and the defenders can't access the river for water. Along with an extended wooden wall to protect the farm that exists outside the fort.
Also, after thinking about it the plot of the rp. I will let the players decide. What I mean is that the during the first arc of the rp. There will be a choice that your char has to make. Since I have thought of two ways to restore the world and am not sure which to do and so these are the options. One, find a way to restore the connection to Leva or two, find a way to become gods and use your newfound power to restore the world. Both will be present and the majority pick will win and decide on how the plot develops.
That is it, and I may add more if I forgot to include it in the Overview part and you have any questions just ask.
Gods:
Aleyr, God of Light - The first of the godly pairs and the leader of the gods. Aleyr can be described as friendly, wise, and but at times also arrogant and bold. As when he took control of the pantheon after going from being jointly ruled by him and his brother Neheyr to only being ruled by him.
Neheyr, God of Darkness - The first of the godly pairs, Neheyr can be described as cold, brooding and at times being aloof. Yet, he has a bright side to him and loved his brother and took it was a betrayal when his brother took control of the pantheon and left him with nothing.
Ihana, Goddess of Life - Friendy and joyful. Inhana is what you would expect from a life goddess. Eager to use their life giving powers but not reckless with her powers. She respects her sister and the two view each other as part of a sacred cycle.
Mutia, Goddess of Death - Distant but, always watching. Mutia is somewhat a odd goddess. One that while can be cold or serious about her duties as a goddess of death. She has a sense of humor that oftentimes makes you forget she is the Goddess of Death. Like with Inhana, Mutia repects her sister, and view each other as part of a sacred cycle.
Ykdohr, God of Earth - Calm, friendly, hardy and always ready for a friendly brawl. Ykdohr is considered the most loyal of the gods and when he is needed. He is always there when he is needed.
Miaris, Goddess of Air - Carefree and always in a good mood. Miaris can be described as fun-loving and generally considered to be nice around. Though this can change if someone crosses her and expect a response from her.
Emes, God of Fire - The hothead of the gods. Despite being quick to anger, and quick to apologize. Despite his anger, Emes can be a friendly and passionate person.
Muotl. Goddess of Water - Generally a goddess that goes with the flow and is adaptable to what situation she is in. Though at times she can be peaceful and at other moments she can be fierce.
Ovthar, God of War - Warlike and always wanting to earn glory for himself. A true warrior with the mind of a tactician that tends to butt heads with Emes and Ykdohr.
Rusoi, Goddess of Love - Passionate and lovely, the master of seduction and rarely her charms fail to those she seeks. A free spirit that is loyal to those that she loves and has a dark side to those that cross her.
Taelia, Goddess of Nature - Motherly and protective of nature. Often called Mother Nature by her disciples and takes care of the plants and animals that thrive on Isyria. Often creating protectors to safe keep her sacred groves.
Vulher, God of Craft - Proud of his work and humble, Vulher takes great pride in his work. Determined to a fault to try and outdo what he has already created and can at times be distant while working on his next project.
Auna, Goddess of the Sun - Radiant and proud. Auna tends to get along with most of the pantheon, especially Taelia. Graceful in what she does and is a little too proud of her role in the mortal world.
Ydos, God of the Moon - The calmest and stoic among the gods. The wise Ydos is always willing to lend a hand or offer to consult someone. He is well liked by the gods and is the one to act as the mediator between disagreements between the gods.
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Titles:(If any)
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Age
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Gender
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Appearance
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Personality
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Godly Parent
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Abilities
Abilities here(Three and be related to their godly parent)
So, these people are going to be his new classmates. They seemed friendly so far, and Efraim had to admit he was a bit surprised to find a girl with copies of herself doing stuff around the camp. Since, well, this is the first time he has met with other Hyperhumans. If there were any in his hometown back in Mexico, they kept a low profile. So he felt weird about this, a good kind of weird since he could relax and not worry about people freaking out about him being a Hyperhuman and his powers. Efraim will have to thank his father for making this happen when he gets the chance.
When his pizza was done, Efraim took a slice and sat down. Eagerly devouring his slice and making sure no one was watching him do so. Whoever thought about having a pizza camping trip had a very good idea after the stress of day one at this place.
As he ate his second slice of pizza, Efraim watched and listened to what the others were doing and talking. Most were introducing themselves to each other or just talking in general. Everything was nice and chill, something he needed after today. Though the topic of their powers sprang up, and after seeing some examples of their powers. Efraim, after finishing his slice and getting up. He spoke to the ones near him.
"Since I am seeing how others are talking about it. I figured I should too. My power is that I can manipulate my bones. Nothing freaky like bending my bones in weird ways or anything like that. But I can do stuff like this." He stretched out his right arm, and a small bone ball grew out of his wrist. He then took it off his wrist and showed it to the ones he was talking to. "I can make stuff with it and some other stuff."
Efraim then started to semi-juggle the bone ball as he waited for the others to respond. He was just relaxing with his bone ball and smiled. It feels good to be among others like him and not feel like a freak. They all just getting to know each other and showing off their powers. To think he might not be here if it were not for his father despite him losing his job because of him. His father is one special person, and one Efraim hopes to not let him down again.
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