Vahir

Children of Aton - Demigod RP

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Children of Aton

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Have you ever played Zelda, or Dark Souls, or any other dungeon crawl, and felt awe at whatever boss you have to slay? Have you wondered what these mythical creatures are, where they come from, and what they're motivation for smashing you into bits is? Then this RP should be of some interest to you. The idea is simple: We play as these things of legend.

Now, the RP won't be combat exclusive (though I imagine some of you might enjoy smashing mortals to bits). Instead, it will be focused on rivals between the demigods you will be playing as, and the horrific ravages the Wars of the Children will deal to mortals.
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Background

At the dawn of time, Aton existed, omnipotent and omnipresent. Seeing the empty world, only ocean in every direction, it created land, valleys, and mountains. It created flora and fauna to fill this new landmass. Still not satisfied, it created mankind to populate its world. But humans were not mere animals; the souls they required demanded sacrifice, and so Aton made them from itself, each human carrying a part of its consciousness.

Perhaps it did not know the consequences of such an act, or perhaps it did, but went ahead anyway. But the fissure created by the departure of a part of its own life force grew. Aton was not a single individual mind, being the agglomeration of an infinite number of individual consciousnesses. It was ripped apart, its very existence erased from the world, replaced instead by a handful of beings… the Children of Aton.

These will be your characters.
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But what’s a Child of Aton?

Essentially, the supernatural. They can range from man-eating witches, to valiant knights, to Cthulu. They range in power from that of a mere mortal to... Cthulu. The only things they all have in common are that a)they share a common "life" with humanity, and so more humans = weaker children and less humans = stronger children, and that b)they can't ever die for good, always coming back to life centuries after being "slain" by valiant heroes. Some are good, some are evil, and some are just plain crazy.
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What would we do in the RP?

Good question! I present to you two options, one more NRP focused, the other a more conventional character RP:

Option #1, The Dawn

This option would see the RP start soon after the split of Aton (relatively, anyway; it'd be eons in the eyes of mortals). Civilization would be very minimal, with bronze being the metal of choice, and cities being quite small. Each Child would have a tribe of humans (5,000 - 50,000 people) attached to it, thematically at least. You are of course free (even recommended) to make a more complicated relationship between your Child and its tribe, such as the people turning against their demigod in favor of another.

The Dawn would be a more "fresh" start, the children not having as deep histories with their siblings. They would still have friends and foes among them, of course, but not the kind of burning, maddening hatred eternity brings about.

Option #2, The Dusk

The Age of Dawn has passed. At its end, the Children were betrayed by one of their own, and locked away for thousands of years, cut off from all interaction and trapped in the dark, left to brood on the treachery. And then, one day, the dam breaks, and the Children burst from their prison, sweeping across the land. Similar to the previous option, but with three main differences:

a) The tribes will be long gone, having been assimilated since then into a single civilization. This empire will of course not look favorably on a ancient demigods waking up and flooding their lands. Technology is at a post-rennaisance level (Arquebus, cannons, and swords all co-exist).

b) The human population will have boomed tremendously, making the Children weaker than during the Dawn.

c) There will be a lot more bitterness. Obviously, I imagine the your Children won't be terribly fond of the traitor, having been locked away for thousands of years. Additionally, they would have a lot more history with each other, so inter-sibling friendships and hatreds will burn much brighter.

So, questions? Tl&dr?

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

So my character is loosing a looooooot of blood. Not saying you guys should go out of your way to help, but, yknow, lots of blood.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

So who's going to post next?

Built From the Ground Up (World Building RP)

Hm. I want to make a steampunk republic, but the level of technology still seems vague. Are we already in space?

Built From the Ground Up (World Building RP)

Hm, very interesting! I'm in if you'll have me.

I might be willing to Co-GM. Let me start writting a nation sheet, see how much I'm into this, and I'll get back to you on that.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

I hope Haggis is still hanging around, because I could use some healing.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

Taranis rode as fast as he dared in the storm, soaked and numb from the sheets of frigid rain that kept pouring down. But his pace was still slow; the dirt road had turned to mud, and he knew from experience that riding hard in the dark could throw a man off his horse to his death. The thought of setting up camp flashed through the veteran Paladin's mind once or twice, which he discarded just as quickly. At first he was still panicking, physically unable to stop his flight if he wanted to, and later he justified pressing on by the need to warn as many towns as possible of the oncoming tide of death. It was no doubt a useless goal, his slow pace having allowed himself to fall behind the vanguard of the undead wave, silent, shambling figures sometimes visible through the trees, but he clung to it regardless.

He did his best not to think about what had happened in the past day. The horrors that he had witnessed in Lordaeron were without description: it was as if the vile cultists took sadistic pleasure in turning the bastion of civilization into a living hell. After hours of riding, the primal fear had ebbed away, his reluctance to think back now due to shame- shame at having fled like a coward as his brothers died and untold numbers of innocents suffered worse than death. He had been a soldier for twenty years, and seen butchery on an industrial scale in the wars against the orcs. How could he have lost his nerve? The thought haunted him.

It was from this self-deprecating thought that he was jostled when his horse suddenly whinnied and tried to stop, throwing him roughly into the mud. When he snapped back to attention, he found himself laying down in the freezing mud, too winded to move. Astonishingly, he survived, no doubt having unconsciously shielded himself as he fell by the grace of the Light. His horse was not so lucky, Taranis having not noticed its heart-wrenching screeches at first. Through sheer force of will, he pushed himself into a sitting position, his hand still pressed against the mud as he didn't trust himself to stay balanced.

The poor beast had fallen down and slid on its side in the mud when it tried to stop, he could see. It was a tangle of broken bones and heaving muscles, desperately trying to struggle. And though at first all seemed quiet except for its screams, he could hear faint noises of battle which he recognized all too well- no doubt that was what had frightened his steed. He had to get out, now. He grimaced as he realized that he was devoid of magical energy, having expended himself in cutting himself out of Lordaeron. Praying to the Light none of his injuries were debilitating, he forced himself forward, crawling to the trapped animal.

He realized with a jolt that its braying would attract any nearby undead like moth to a flame. Compassion and pragmatism uniting for once, he wasted no time in pulling out a knife (having groped around for it first in his dazed state), and driving into the horse's throat, slicing it open as best he could. Suffice it to say, the screaming stopped in short order. He was now soaked in horse blood, but between the rain and the mud it didn't seem to make the situation any worse than it already was. Momentarily safe, he took a minute to attempt to carefully stand up, succeeding in his third try. He felt like hell, and no doubt looked worse, but only staying still meant death, so he pressed forward towards the noise of battle, intent on redeeming his cowardice by a righteous death in battle against the dead.

* * * * *

The battle was raging in a small town, as it turned out. The undead were swarming into it from the woods to the east, and Taranis could tell at a glance at a line of destroyed barricades that the fight was already all but lost. He looked up at the sky, and cursed the torrent of rain that kept falling.

What a miserable day to die. He gritted his teeth, leaned against a dead tree, and pulled out his sword. His shield still hung on his back, his damaged left arm being mauled too badly to be much use, just dangling at his side. Still he pressed on, into the town streets.

He confirmed his hypothesis immediately, dragging himself over a pile of corpses that seemed depressingly full of guardsmen. All semblance of organization had fallen apart, the street ahead a chaotic, tangled mess of the living and the dead, with more dead every second. Trotting as fast as he could, he raised his sword, and brought it down into the shoulder of a shuffling zombie. He instantly realized that experience had lead him astray once again; the wound, which would have been fatal to any mortal, didn't even seem to bother the undead, which just turned around and lunged at him.

Instinct took over, and Taranis let go of his blade, tackling the undead with his armored shoulder. He caught a glimpse of its snapped jaw as they fell together onto the street. It rose almost immediately, only to be knocked down his a swift boot kick from the Paladin. He dragged himself up, and stamped down on the undead with his foot, holding it in place while he pulled out his sword and delivered a coup de grace through the thing's skull.

Though tired, Taranis had no time to rest, hearing the rustle of yet another fiend behind him. He spun around, and was stunned to find nothing, before looking down. In front of him was the still moving corpse of a child. It couldn't have been more than eight when it had died. Briefly, absurdly, he wondered where it had died, whether it had come from the capital. He tried to snap himself out of his stupour, to strike it down, but he couldn't. Memories resurfaced, of piles of small corpses in Alterac. He remembered how a little boy, about the same age as this undead had been, had tried to attack him with a knife when he was storming the city with the rest of the alliance expedition, punishing the people for their king's treachery. He'd cleaved that boy in half, without even thinking.

Why was he thinking these thoughts now? His life was in mortal danger, he had to move! But he couldn't, he seemed paralyzed. Time seemed to stand still.

A deep, booming horn was sounded, the sound reverberating through his body and mind. He blinked, and started bringing his sword arm up, but he wasn't quick enough, the boy... the undead jumping at him, snarling inhumanly. Its talon tore at his neck, and as he fell backwards from the impact, he saw his own blood spray forward. Oh.

His last conscious sight was of the child undead being run through, and someone stepping over Taranis to finish it off. Then everything went black.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

I might not post until next week, on account of workload. It's just been a very busy couple of days.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

So, bringing us back on to the topic, under what circumstances will this start? Will we all already know each other and have grouped up?

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

We should just drop the RP and go play WC3 already, that's where this thread's heading anyway.