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The Quest for the Lost God; Chapter One: The Heroes of All World
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Topic Started: Jul 20 2011, 03:36 PM (2,464 Views)
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Darkom
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Jul 20 2011, 03:36 PM
Post #1
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Philosophizer
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- July 26, 2010
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The Quest for the Lost God
Dark follows light, as surely as night follows day. We have lived for generations in the light, squandering our time in the day as if it would never end. Now night is falling, and we have only a single flame of hope to keep out the darkness. The sun has fallen from the sky. Night has fallen. The Goddess help us all to reach the dawn. King Richard of Sunkeep
The Goddess has abandoned us. Humanity has been left alone to face the coming Dark. Evil has swept down from the north, threatening to drown the lands of All World in a wave of destruction. Without the Mistress of Light to protect us, all is surely doomed. And yet, we cannot give in. A shred of hope is still within our grasp, and to save the world from annihilation, we will stop at nothing to reach it.
Scholars spoke of the world being cast into darkness, ages ago, before the Church of the Light united humanity against the Dark Lord's armies. Prophets have warned us that it would happen again, that our own sins would bring about our destruction. None of the High Kings believed them; no one thought it was possible. Even the Church itself ignored the warnings, growing fat from the people they claimed to save. Now the day of reckoning has come and gone, and the shadow of death creeps ever further upon the land.
The Lord of the Night has tried and failed to invade the Golden Kingdoms before. We thought we were safe, that the Creator would protect us. But now, even She has left us, and the Dark Lord marches ever closer to the beating heart of humanity. His minions have swept down from the northern mountains, from the Blighted Lands that lie beyond, to rain death upon the people of All World. Vampires, Orcs, demons of all shapes and sizes roam the land, slaughtering innocents with a horrifying abandon. Pestilence spreads from city to city, killing thousands more, and famine has struck even our most fertile valleys.
The High Kings have forgotten their petty squabbles, forgiven ancient grudges to meet in the white castle of Sunkeep. The most powerful men in the Golden Kingdoms have gathered for a great council, to decide what humanity can do to fight off this approaching evil. The pious kings of the south wish to pray to the Creator for forgiveness, in hopes She shall return and grant us salvation. The militant lords of the north call for the High Kings to rally their armies, to push back the Dark Lord through force of arms. Only one, the soft spoken Duke of Wellay, has proposed a third option: seek out the Lost God, the Preserver of Life. He cited ancient tomes, found deep within his castle's libraries, which speak of another time when Darkness enveloped the land. Only the Lost God, sought out by a band of mythic heroes, had the power to save All World.
The council, after many days of squabbling amongst themselves, has agreed to a compromise. Every soldier of the Golden Kingdoms has been sent marching north, to fight back the Dark Lord's armies. Meanwhile, a second call has gone out, assembling the greatest heroes of the land for a daring expedition. Any man or woman who thinks themselves worthy is to meet at the great castle of Sunkeep, on the first of March. Be their motives noble or selfish, these heroes heed the High Kings' call for their own reasons. They come from all across the land, from all walks of life. But no matter how different they may be, they share own thing in common: they may be the world's last hope for survival. For they undergo a mission unprecedented in the Golden Kingdoms: a Quest for the Lost God!
We brave souls who have undertaken this, the most virtuous of missions, are to meet at the grand hall of the castle at Sunkeep, on the first of March. Many will travel far to get there, but from the jewel of the Golden Kingdoms we shall journey further still. Our destination lies eastward, past the islands of the Tsydrian, through the jungles of the elves, beyond the borders of the known world. Our first destination, however, is the castle of Wellay, to the south, where Lord Chaucer shall prepare us for the journey ahead. From there we set sail eastward, moving along the southern coast, until we reach the fabled tree cities of the elves. The voyage shall not be easy, for even with the threat of the Dark Lord the southern seas remain a dangerous place. We must press onward, however, for our true destination still lies far away, in that uncharted place known only as the Shadow Land.
And the Goddess took those ashes the Evil One had left, and from them sprung forth life. Out of cold earth She drew wonderful fruit, and for this mankind must be forever grateful. She has been a loving Mother, guiding and protecting us from the Darkness for all these years. But we have squandered Her Gift, sullied it with our unclean hands. We were safe from the outer evils, but even She could not protect us from the Darkness within our own hearts.
Rules and Information:
This roleplay is going to be very free form in nature. Everything from the setting to the adventures we have along the way will be controlled by you, the players. The world itself has already begun to take shape under your creative hands, and as we progress it will only grow more and more exotic. Anything goes in the world creation, to an extent; I trust you all to be responsible with the duty you've been entrusted with. If you do have any ideas, however, for the world at large or an adventure for our little band of heroes, please, feel free to tell us about it in the discussion thread. If you want to fight a gang of vampires, or help a disgraced prince ascend his throne, I'm sure you're not the only one. The whole point of having such an open RP is so that anything is possible. So please, help us make this roleplay a fun one.
We're all mature here (hopefully), so I know there won't be any problems with the rules. I don't know what kind of restrictions you all have had in other roleplays, but given the nature of this one I'll allow a certain degree of freedom. You all know what is and is not acceptable, but just to avoid any incidents, I'll put up a small list of things not to do, along with a few things that are acceptable.
The Rules No character control. Not all of your characters have to like each other- disagreements should keep the long boat ride interesting- but talk to other players before picking a fight with them, and try and decide how the whole thing will go down before you even begin. This also includes smaller things, like dialogue. Do not just assume someone will agree with what your character is saying.
No single line posts. No matter how little attention your character may be getting, I'm sure you can come up with something besides a lonely line of dialogue. We're supposed to be writers, for heaven's sake.
No huge, wall-o-text posts. Please, do not fill up the thread with novel sized posts. We've all put time into our characters and want to write them fully and convincingly, but we don't all want to read pages of how your character's mother didn't love them enough.
Please use good grammar. We're not all English majors here, but punctuation and capitalization shouldn't be too hard. Use MS Word if you have trouble with this kind of stuff.
Do not contradict another player's worldbuilding or backstory. This is a free form RP, so each player has an equal hand in creating the world. Contradictions are bound to arise, but please settle them outside of the RP.
No "ubering", or making your character all powerful, all knowing, or without flaws. Your character does not know everything you know; he has not read the other character's CS's. Also, we are heroes, not gods. There are limits to the things your character can do. Finally, no one is perfect, please make sure your character has some flaws.
Romance is allowed, though the number of ladies going with us on the boat is fairly small, but explicit or sexual scenes are not. Your characters can do it if they want to, but don't tell us about it.
Finally, use common sense. Most of us have been doing this awhile, so you know what you can and cannot do. If any problems do arise, I do have the authority to handle them. I sincerely hope there won't be any issues, but if there are remember I hold final say in any disagreements.
All of my life I have devoted to gathering knowledge. My castle's libraries are without equal in the Golden Kingdoms; the oldest and most valuable tomes in the world are assembled there. Dozens of scholars have joined me in my quest, thousands of hours spent searching through texts for even a hint of salvation. And yet, for all my resources, for all my energies, my hunt has yielded only a single clue. An obscure reference, found in an ancient journal, of a rumor mentioned in another, lost volume. And yet, this rumor, this myth, may be all we have to fight the Lord of the Dark. Humanity's only hope lies in finding this Lost God! Lord Chaucer, Duke of Wellay
All World; the Appendix:
The world itself is, if you couldn't tell, a very generic, stereotypical fantasy land. This is to allow for maximum creativity for the players, as anything you want to create is possible. We will all be building the world as we go, so in order to keep some kind of reference, I'll be keeping an appendix of important lore concerns. For anything not explicitly covered, use your own imagination.
First off, we have a few maps of the world itself, which we will be adding to as we discover new lands. Here is the link to them; all will be going into that album, so I'd keep it handy if I were you.
The political map is labeled with various numbers, representing the countries of the Golden Kingdoms. Some have been named already, but most are still open for creative license. Here is a full list of the various states, along with a brief description and history of each. Also, if a player has already claimed that country as the homeland of their character, they reserve full control, so their name will be there as well. If two share the same country, they will have to agree on the facts.
The Golden Kingdoms 1 - The brown island in the west, these three kingdoms have a history of fighting amongst themselves, but recently banded together to fight off invasion from the mainland. They are at war with 2 and 3. The three allied states are Sartheria (1a), 1b, and 1c. (Sartheria is owned by Quirk)
2 - The aggressive Kingdom of Culfoss has begun expanding into the western islands (1), as well as making the southern island of 2c its vassal. It is allied with Sunkeep (4). (Owned by Colonel Mustard)
3 - Light green island in the midwest, has begun expanding southward. It has a tradition of conflict with countries 1 and 5, and growing tensions with 2. It is also allied with Sunkeep.
4 - The Kingdom of Sunkeep, the only yellow country on the map, is fairly content with its borders, and remains pacifistic. Few kingdoms dare to attack it, knowing the King can call several allies to help. The capital city, for which the state is named, is in the midsouth, west of the river mouth. The southern island, 4b, is the Duchy of Wellay, a vassal to Sunkeep. (Owned by Darkom)
5 - A small, trade based country that used to own much of the coast to the south. Its territories were diminished when country 3 invaded, leading to significant bad blood between the two. It also has a history of skirmishes with country 8b.
6 - The purple country in the south, one of Sunkeep's strongest allies. It is far more militant than its western neighbor, however, and was previously at war with both country 7 and 9.
7 - Another belligerent nation, it is the light gray country in the center. It has a history of conflict with countries 8 and 6, though it is allied with 12 and 5.
8 - A growing power, it is the orange country in the center. Known for its disagreements with Sunkeep, it rarely follows the king's orders. It has made vassals of its neighbors, 8b and 8c, and was previously skirmishing with countries 14b and 7. It is allied with country 13.
9 - One of the Free Cities of the south, it is fiercely aggressive despite its size. The two cities have agreed to an alliance in order to fight off invasions from 6, while trying to gain more territory themselves by attacking 10. Like the other two small southern states, it pays tribute to 12, who in return remains neutral.
10 - Another coalition of Free Cities, they are being invaded by both 9 and 11. It also pays tribute to 12.
11 - The last of the Free Cities, it recently conquered the island at 11b, and was attacking 10 before the Creator abandoned the world. It has recently refused to pay any further tribute to 12, and has since seen several skirmishes with the larger nation. (11b is owned by Darkom)
12 - The light blue country in the center-south, it has recently begun expeditions into the territory of the Jungle Elves, in an attempt to keep up with 13's relentless expansion. It is currently skirmishing with 13, on top of invasions into elven territory, and has blockaded 13's trade with the south while gaining wealth from their own trade with the Tsydra. It receives tribute from the Free Cities to the south, with the exception of 11, against whom it has begun sending punitive invasions.
13 - A super-militaristic country, the Atlas Empire has defied the odds again and again, gaining victory after victory in its near constant wars with the other nations of All World. Renowned for having a peerless military and some of the greatest forges in existence, the people of Atlas feel as though it is their duty to conquer and expand their law and order all across the world. Unfortunately for other countries, the laws of Atlas are ridiculously harsh, and very few non-citizens can stand to live under their rule. Even more unfortunately still, Atlas is a police state with a vicious secret police that enforces the laws without mercy. Still, if you're a citizen, life is good, and there is no dissent within Atlas proper. Notably, anyone can become an Atlesian citizen, so long as you are considered to a have a skill that Atlas desires. On a side note, the Church of Light is banned from Atlas, and all religion is controlled by the Council of Nine, the ruling oligarchy of nobles and generals. It is currently at war with 12 to the south and 15a to the east, along with its armed expeditions into Jungle Elf territory. Its vassal, 13b, controls the war with 12, while the main state of 13a defends against the militant 15. It is allied to country 8. (Owned by Ambrose and James)
14 - The first of the two militant nations of the north, full of hard fighters and tough citizens. Unlike its eastern neighbor, however, it also has an extensive sea trade, its ports kept ice free by warm water currents from the south. It has recently gained 14b as a vassal in its war with country 8, and keeps an uneasy peace with 15. It also has a non-aggression pact with 13, and a treaty with 23.
15 - The kingdoms of Themis (15b) and Amalthea (15a), allied through centuries of intermarriage, have been essentially permanently united in the war against the Dark Lord. While Themis is under heavy influence from the Church, and Amalthea is more independent of their "holy" influence, both countries are just as dedicated to the fight. A barren wasteland with only sparse vegetation, Themis is where the war is reaching ever new heights, and currently almost half the population of Themis has been conscripted into the army to fight the mass waves of the Darkness. Themis was formerly in a decades long blood feud with 14 before the disappearance of the Goddess, and Amalthea is still skirmishing lightly with the imperialistic nation of Atlas (13).
16 - The loose collection of islands inhabited by Tsydra, who band together to further their mutual trading goals. They control most long distance oceanic trade, and all goods coming from the eastern elves goes through them before it is sold to the human nations. Their naval supremacy was put in question when 12 conquered the island of 12c, but they have since then agreed to a treaty. (Owned by Half Tooth)
17 - One of many small states on the northwestern island, it has a history of conflict with 18 and 19. None of the kingdoms on the island trust each other, though they have been known to band together when an invasion threatens from the mainland.
18 - One of the largest kingdoms on the northwestern island, it is currently at war with 17, though it holds a tentative alliance with 19 and 21.
19 - A small coastal kingdom, it is being invaded by both 17 and 20, though its alliance with 18 and 23b has given it some protection thus far.
20 - A belligerent country, it recently invaded 19, only to be invaded in turn by 23b. It is allied to 22.
21 - Another small state on the northwestern island, it was previously at war with 22, and is allied to 18.
22 - A war minded kingdom on the northwestern island, it is at war with both its neighbors, though it is allied to 20.
23 - The last of the northwestern kingdoms, these two states have banded together to fight off their aggressive neighbors. They are at war with 20 and 22, and are allied to 19 and 21.
24 - The Jungle Elves are a tribal people, organized into several great clans, which are then broken down into villages. Their villages connected by the great rivers that run through their territory. They frequently have skirmishes between villages, though the elder council that rules the whole of the elven people prevents these from escalating into interclan war. They have recently been invaded by both 12 and 13, and are massing their guerilla tactics armies to the eastern border. They trade only through the Tsydra, though many of their goods are highly prized among upper class humans. It is rumored some come from a people even further to the east.
25 - The Withering Lands, a barren wasteland that lies beyond the fiery Ash Mountains separating the Lord of the Dark's territories from the human kingdoms. Infested with vampires, Orcs, werebeasts, and all manner of evil creatures, few humans have ever returned from it. (Partially owned by Ambrose)
26 - The great northern desert, a great expanse of sand lying beyond the elven lands. It is said that a fierce warrior people live here, though none have ever been seen by humans.
27 - The smaller, southern desert, also surrounded by elven jungle. Little lives here besides cacti.
Besides that basic information, we have a growing encyclopedia of worldbuilding, including the races, religions, and other threads in the tapestry that is All World. Much of it originated with the ideas of you, the players, so if you have anything else you'd like to add to the appendix, please, post it in the adjacent thread (cleverly titled, "Lost God Appendix"). Thank you.
The Appendix, continued The Magic of All World An in depth description of the magical system is currently in the works. For now, please work under the rule of a generic fantasy system, with the mage chanelling mana into spells using the power of their will. Specific details, like incantations and rituals, are up to the player to decide for their own character. If you have a mage, you are an authority on magic.
The Races of All World All World is made up of three primary races: the humans, the Tsydra or Sea Elves, and the Jungle Elves, tentatively called the Medra. The humans are biologically and psychologically similar to us, and inhabit the western reaches of All World, a domain they have named the Golden Kingdoms. They are split into multiple rival kingdoms, but are, for the most part, subservient to the Kingdom of Sunkeep, whose king controls the Church of the Light, the primary human religion. They frequently squabble amongst themselves, several kingdoms not even heeding the authority of Sunkeep, but are by far the most numerous people of the known world.
The second race, the Tsydra, are a seagoing people whose main economic purpose is ocean trade. They are amphibious, capable of living both under the water and on land, though due to their intimate connection to the sea they prefer to be somewhere at least near the coast. They have a natural ability to shapeshift, able to morph their bodies into more fishlike creatures, and most can manipulate water to some degree using a specialized form of magic. Their bodies are slim and toned, and commonly have blue or green hair. Their philosophy, as they follow no true religion, is based on the balance of nature, and the sea in particular. Their emotions are known to shift like the tides, and as such they have developed a reputation for untrustworthiness amongst the humans, though they themselves see no problem with it. Most are also rather self centered, always looking out for themselves before others, and typically have much more subdued emotions than humans.
The Tsydra are, however, excellent crafstmen, producing special clothing and art that is much sought after by human nobility, all of it having a distinctive watery sheen. They trade these goods with the humans using their specialized ships, grown from underwater coral and attached to giant sea creatures like shells, which give them a very large advantage in speed over wooden human vessels. Another factor contributing to their speed are the Ancestral Waters, special currents in the sea made up of the water of dead Tsydra, whose corpses are liquified in a secret ritual. Since the disappearance of the Goddess, these Waters have vanished, causing a great commotion among the Tsydra.
Finally, the third major race of the known world is the Medra, or Jungle Elves. They are similar, though parallel to the Tsydra, in that they are connected to the land and plants rather than the sea. Like the Sea Elves, they have the ability to transform, though while the Tsydra become fish, the Medra morph their body parts into various forest creatures. For example, they can grow feathers and turn their arms into wings, or sprout a prehensile tail. They are typically more hyper and chatty than the Tsydra, and are known to speak their mind no matter what. However, despite their normal jitteriness, they are excellent marksmen, preferring their own bows and arrows, and make effective guerilla fighters.
The Medra, like the Sea Elves, naturally live forever, but most choose to pass on quickly, living life to the fullest before deciding to reincarnate as something new. They live in isolated tribal communities, though are collected in large clans that are largely autonomic down to the family level; their preferred form of decision making is almost pure representative democracy, with each village voting on a topic, then that vote going into the clan vote, until the whole of the Medra people have cast their decision for a course of action. These decisions are then acted out by a clan council, though they wholly agree very rarely.
The Jungle Elves main exports include exotic fruits, beautiful woodcarvings, and luxury goods that they bring over from traders in the far east. Little is known of these people that live beyond the jungle, other than that they produce some of the most beautiful and bizarre products ever seen in the Golden Kingdoms. Clothing or art that came from the east is a rare commodity, and a sign of great wealth within the human nobility.
The Gods of All World A section on the various religions and dieties of All World will be coming shortly. For now, just know that humans worship the Goddess of Light, who has abandoned them to the evil Lord of Darkness.
More shall surely be added here as we go on, so check in frequently to see if any new worldbuilding has taken place. Most of it is being discussed in the Lost God Appendix thread, so if you want to keep up to date, check in there as well. Thank you.
And with that, it's on to the roleplay! We shall begin in the grand hall of the castle at Sunkeep, where the king will shortly be meeting with our heroes in his throne room. For now, get to know the other characters within the great hall, where refreshments have been provided. The door to the throne room shall be opened shortly, and from there we will move quickly on to Wellay, where my primary character will be meeting you. And after that, we head east, to find the Lost God! 
Let the roleplaying begin!
Edited by Darkom, Jul 25 2011, 01:47 PM.
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Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain
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Darkom
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Jul 20 2011, 04:12 PM
Post #2
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Philosophizer
- Posts:
- 245
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Character Sheets
Here, in no particular order, are the heroes that will be saving the world. If I've somehow forgotten you, or something is wrong with your sheet, please let me know so I can change it. Also, the original character sheet list was too long for the forum, so it will be split up into two posts. Thank you.
Character Sheets:
Duke Smugleaf Victoria Ambrose Name: Victoria Ambrose Gender: Female Race: Elan Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Age (Actual): 76 Age (Appears): 22 Height: 6'0" Weight: 154 lbs Class: Psion (Telepath)/Elocater Natural Abilities: Strength: Very Poor Dexterity: Above Average Constitution: Above Average Wisdom: Average Intelligence: Very High Charisma: Below Average Special Abilities: Aberration (Psionic): Having gone through the Ritual of Ascension, Victoria is no longer considered human and is, instead, a psionic aberration. This allows her to no longer require sleep, instead meditating for four hours a day. However, despite looking identical to any human, there is always something off about her, a subtle sense of wrongness due to to her aberrant nature. Naturally Psionic: Victoria now has pure psionic energy flowing through her body, allowing her increased psionic powers. Resistance: By expending some of her psionic energy, Victoria instantaneously boost her resistance to various forms of attack. Resilience: When taking damage, Victoria can expend psionic energy to reduce its severity. Repletion: Having a body brimming with psionics, Victoria can expend some of her psionic energy to sustain her body, needing no food or water for a day. Timeless Body: Because of the mass amounts of psionic energy flowing through her body, Victoria does not age and cannot be magically aged. She will also never die of old age. Scorn Earth: Using her psionic powers, Victoria constantly hovers a foot in the air, even while over water, maintaining all her agility and mobility as if she were on the ground. She can raise higher, but she very quickly looses her speed and maneuverability if she does. Sidestep Charge: With her levitation, Victoria can easily jump the the side and dodge charging enemies. Dimension Step: Victoria can use Dimension Door at will, teleporting short distances. Accelerated Action: Utilizing her powers, Victoria can temporarily speed herself up, allowing her to move and act more quickly than usual. Skills: Autohypnosis: Victoria has taken the concept of "mind over matter" to the next level, training her mind beyond that of regular people, allowing her to resist fear or mind-affecting effects, tolerate poisons, or even resist bleeding to death. She can also memorize long, complex strings of words, numbers, or other characters. Concentration: Victoria has a particularly focused mind, allowing her great abilities of concentration. Disable Device: Spending a lot of time tinkering with various things, Victoria knows much of the inner workings of various mechanical contraptions, like traps. Knowledge: After much studying, Victoria has a mind brimming with knowledge of almost any subject, or at least the ones she considers important. Open Lock: Though she has little need of or desire for theft, Victoria is still fascinated by the mechanisms of locks and has spent many a night thoroughly learning how they work. Psicraft: With her training in psionics, Victoria can easily identify psionic powers or effects. Survival: During her years of exploration, Victoria has learned the art of self-reliance and how to survive in the wilderness. Tumble: Being rather nimble, Victoria can deftly tumble around enemies or obstacles and can land softly, minimizing the effects of falling from great heights. Use Psionic Device: Having considerable knowledge over all things psionic, Victoria can easily use psionic items of any kind, even those that she normally could not use thanks to race or class. Psionic Powers: 1st Level: Defensive Precognition: Foresees events one second in the future, giving her a better chance to avoid or resist attacks. Energy Ray: Fires off a ray of destructive energy, choosing either Cold, Electricity, Fire, or Sonic for the energy type. Force Screen: Creates a mobile wall of pure force in front of her to act as a shield. Mind Thrust: Sends a blast of psychic energy directly into an opponent's mind, mentally attacking them. Psionic Charm: Deludes an opponent into seeing her as a friend. 2nd Level: Concealing Amorpha: Creates a quasi-real, rippling membrane around her, blurring and concealing her form, making it harder for others to see her and pinpoint her exact location. Read Thoughts: Allows her to read the surface thoughts of everyone in range. Psionic Suggestion: Compels a subject to follow a reasonable suggestion they would not have otherwise done. Swarm of Crystals: Shoots off a cone of hundreds of tiny crystals, slashing anything in their path. 3rd Level: Body Adjustment: Mentally increases her metabolism, quickly healing herself. Crisis of Breath: Disrupts an opponent's breathing, preventing their lungs from automatically working and forcing them to consciously gasp for breath or suffocate. Hostile Empathic Transfer: Transfers her injuries to another target, even one who does not wish to receive them. Touchsight: Projects a 60-foot field of psychic contact, allowing her to sense her surroundings even if blinded or deafened and even lets her ignore supernatural darkness or invisibility. 4th Level: Correspond: Allows telepathic discussion with anyone she has previously had contact with, regardless of distance or even planar location. Death Urge: Implants the desire for an opponent to commit suicide as quickly and efficiently as possible. Psionic Dominate: Completely and totally controls an opponent, allowing her to command them to do anything she desires save for self-destructive orders, and anything that contradicts a target's nature allows them to try and resist the power once more. Schism: Temporarily splits her mind, allowing the second one to manifest powers at the same time as she does, though at reduced power and capacity, and also allows her to more easily resist mind-affecting effects. 5th Level: Adapt Body: Alters her body to adapt to hostile environments such as extreme temperatures, underwater, or airless places and also allows her to reduce the effects from damaging features such as acid or lava. Ectoplasmic Shambler: Creates an ephemeral, manylegged mass of pseudo-living ectoplasm that moves around the field, damaging anything that comes within it. Mind Probe: Directly reads a subject's mind, finding even the most hidden of secrets. Psychic Crush: Attempts to completely crush an opponent's mind, leaving them unconscious and on the verge of death. 6th Level: Breath of the Black Dragon: Spews a cone of highly corrosive acid. Psionic Disintegrate: Fires off a thin green ray of pure destructive energy at an opponent, utterly obliterating them, leaving only a small pile of dust behind. Psionic Overland Flight: Allows her to fly for extended periods of time. 7th Level: Crisis of Life: Stops an opponent's heart, killing them instantly. Appearance:Victoria's appearance closely matches her scholarly life, being very pale and scrawny. Her light skin is contrasted by her shoulder-length, fiery red hair, its brilliant red/orange color making stand out amongst the crowd. Not caring about appearances, she never bothers to put it up or even comb it, leaving her head a spiky mess. Her deep blue eyes speak of mysteries and intrigue, that there is clearly more about her than what she lets on. Her most defining feature is that her entire body is covered in dark purple tattoos that glow when she taps into her reserve of psionic energy, getting proportionally brighter the stronger the powers she manifests are, though even at their brightest, they're still comparatively dim compared to real light sources, even being outclassed by simple candles. They are quite intricate in their design; however they don't form any recognizable shapes or patterns, being nothing more than a mass of curvy lines and twisted swirls. She says that they are representative of the complexity of the human mind and that staring at them for too long will reveal particular patterns reflecting your own psyche, no two people seeing the same thing. She keeps most of it covered, though, by typically wearing conservative clothing. Her usual outfit is an exquisite, flowing, blue-dyed robe with intricate silver trim around the edges forming complex patterns reminiscent of her tattoos. Underneath her robe, she wears a very fine suit of mythril chainmail armor as extra protection against potential attacks should her psionics fail her. She also has a collection of magical and psionic items that she has steadily gathered over her life. Upon her head is a thin, finely-made headband with a small green stone inset on the front that magically boosts her already impressive intelligence even higher. Around her upper left arm, underneath her robe and armor, is a psionic torc made of iron and inlaid with various precious metals like gold and silver which helps her more easily manifest her powers, using slightly less energy with each one. On her left hand is a ring made of special psionic crystal found deep underground that significantly boosts her reserves of psionic energy. Finally, there are three small ioun stones that constantly orbit above her head which grant her various magical enchantments. The first, a dusty rose prism, creates an invisible shell of magical energy around her, slightly boosting her defenses. The second, an iridescent spindle, continuously sustains her with a steady influx of oxygen, allowing her to survive without the need to breathe. The last, a pearly white spindle, feeds her a stream of positive energy whenever she is seriously injured, allowing her to regenerate or reattach lost limbs or organs if the need arises. History:Born in Berekell, the northernmost city on Sheodin Island (5a), Victoria spent most of her youth in relative peace. Being the child of a rather affluent merchant family afforded her many options growing up that most others lacked. From a young age, she had only the best of tutors due to her parents' desire for her to become educated, as rare as that may have been for women in the male-dominated society. Being a good natured child, she payed attention and even grew a real thirst for knowledge, becoming excited for the daily visits from the tutor. As she got older, though, she started to notice peculiar things happening around her, such as small objects occasionally floating or bits of ectoplasm popping in every so often. This all came to a culmination one day at the age of twelve when her newest tutor started flirting with her and even tried molesting her. She unconsciously sent out a blast of psionic energy, crushing his mind, almost killing him. Startled, she immediately ran to get her parents. Once she had explained the story, they had the tutor executed for his vile deviance, though they were unsure of how to react to her powers. After asking around for a while, they eventually came into contact with an old psion in Sunkeep who agreed to teach young Victoria about her powers. For the next decade, she trained under Master Calliel, learning everything she could about psionics, becoming adept at a number of different powers. As a present for "graduating," Calliel allowed Victoria to partake in the secret Ritual of Ascension, a ceremony in which enormous amounts of psionic energy is pumped into her body, turning her into a fully psionic creature and permanently halting the aging process. Accepting, Victoria spent the next month preparing herself while Calliel called over several other psions from around the known world after which they proceeded on with the ritual. After returning home with her new powers, Victoria quickly established herself as an adventurer, seeking the thrill of exploration. Over the next 33 years, she wandered the map, moving from country to country, hiring herself out as a mercenary whenever she needed money. She went on many exciting adventures, seeing interesting sights, meeting new people, and generally a lot of strange things. During this time, she built up a great deal of knowledge about the world as well as acquiring a number of peculiar items, both magical and psionic. Eventually, though, she got tired of that life and returned home once more. After selling off most of her accumulated gear and equipment, she came full circle by taking a job as a tutor, using her spare time for independent research on various topics ranging from history to engineering. The next 21 years were rather uneventful for her. However, once the Creator left and the call was sent out for heroes to hunt down the Lost God, Victoria felt that she had to do something. She couldn't sit idly by and watch the world turn to ruin. Thus, she signed up for the quest. From a scholarly point of view, she is also excited to actually see the elven lands with her own eyes. Personality:Though she may still look like a twenty year-old, Victoria very much acts her age, being an old woman on the inside. Her many years of living and her three decades of adventuring have made her mostly cold to the world. She's not antagonistic or even cynical, but it has been a while since she's truly enjoyed something as everything just seems to blend together. She realizes that jaded such thoughts will only get worse with age and that she should try to focus on the small things, but looking back on her life just fills her with so much nostalgia that it becomes difficult. This quest to find the Lost God has, however, rekindled that spirit that eventually lead her to adventuring in the first place, and she hopes that maybe having one last, grand adventure will act as the final closing to this chapter of her life so that she may finally move on to other things. When it comes to inter-personal relations, Victoria falls flat. She's never been very good at communications, though she does still enjoy the company of others. Aside from her social awkwardness, she's quite friendly. However, despite her appearance, her age has left her feeling somewhat distant from the youth. Through all this, she does also have a clear bias towards women. Even though she has pretty much gotten over the event with the tutor, the lasting trauma has left some residual bile towards men, and her 33 years of adventuring and mercenary work with mostly men has not helped that at all. Equipment: Weapons: None. Victoria relies on her psionic powers for all offensive attacks. If that doesn't work, she simply runs away and lets someone else deal with it. Armor: Mythril Chainmail. Though unenchanted, this suit of rare metal is still a great work of armor. It's thin, but strong construction allows it to be comfortably worn underneath regular clothing without it even being detected by anything less than a strip search. Despite its almost cloth-like feel, the mythril is still stronger than steel, allowing it to offer almost as much of a defense as two inches of plate armor. Clothing: While she once possessed a magically enchanted robe of scintillation, after quitting from adventuring, she found it much too gaudy and now wears an elegant blue robe with silver trim around the edges forming intricate swirls. Though it, unfortunately, possesses no magic. Headband: On her head, Victoria wears a magical headband that boost her intelligence beyond normal. It is made of a thin, silken thread with a small green crystal in the center that rests upon her forehead when worn. Torc: While normally worn on the neck, Victoria wears hers on her upper left arm underneath her robe and armor. The thin, flat metal band that encircles her arm is made from finely crafted iron inlaid with gold and silver. The torc's psionic enchantment allows her to more easily focus on her powers, allowing her to manifest them while expending less energy. Ring: Forged from a rare, almost metallic crystal deep underground that practically seeps with psionic energy, Victoria's ring is of a fine crafstmanship and is quite lovely, though she doesn't wear it for appearances. Due to the ring's construction as well as other enchantments, it fills Victoria with psionic energy, expanding her reserves. Ioun Stones: Possessing three particular stones that constantly orbit above her head, Victoria gains various magical benefits from them. First, the dusty rose prism creates a thin, invisible shell of energy to slightly hinder physical weapons, slowing them down enough to make it easier to dodge and making them hit with less force. The second one, an iridescent spindle, continuously supplies Victoria with oxygen, ensuring that she never needs to actually breathe, allowing her to survive indefinitely underwater or in other airless environments. The last one, the one she values most, is a pearly white spindle which gives her an influx of positive energy whenever she's seriously injured, allowing her to regrow or even reattach severed limbs and organs. However, it doesn't close wounds or replace lost blood. Other Personal Information: Hobbies: When she's not reading or studying, Victoria likes to assemble and disassemble locks, finding their mechanisms fascinating. She also has a keen interest in other mechanical contraptions. Virtues: Victoria is usually very honest, not because she's honorable and doesn't like deceiving people, but because she just doesn't see much point in it. She's also very studious, spending hours with her nose in the books. She's quite responsible, as well, and will not shirk her duties. Vices: Living almost entirely in a self-contained world, Victoria doesn't care much for companionship or camaraderie and doesn't particularly know how to get along with people. Though she doesn't have much need to break the law, Victoria also holds no real respect for it and will gladly break it if it gets in her way. Fears: Though she used to have many fears as a human, her mental discipline and control have allowed her to wipe most of them away. However, she does still have the usual fears of death and the unknown that most everyone possesses. Those fears just can't be overcome by trying really hard. Goals: Victoria's main goal is the pursuit of knowledge to ensure a brighter future for mankind, but mostly to satiate her own curiosity. Religion: While she, naturally, believes in the gods, Victoria doesn't particularly worship them, trusting in her own power to see her through any hardships. Motive for Joining: Despite believing that the people don't need the Creator in their personal lives, Victoria still understands the protection she gives from the Dark God and his minions. Realizing that she has the power to do something, it must, by necessity, be her responsibility to do something, as well. Fun Fact: I once turned Victoria into a pony. Noboru Hitashi Name: Noboru Hitashi Gender: Male Race: Human Alignment: Lawful Evil Age (Actual): 54 Age (Appears): 54 Height: 5'10" Weight: 141 lbs
Class: Monk
Natural Abilities: Strength: Average Dexterity: Very High Constitution: Above Average Wisdom: High Intelligence: Above Average Charisma: Average
Special Abilities: AC Bonus: After training his body to its physical peak, Noboru's natural defenses have improved so much that he can fight just as well in combat as those wearing armor. Flurry of Blows: With his great speed, Noboru can attack many times in quick succession while unarmed. Unarmed Strike: Unlike most people, Noboru's intense martial arts training allows his fists to be just as effective in combat as regular weapons. Fast Movement: When unarmored and unencumbered, Noboru may move significantly faster than regular people, peaking at 36 mph for a full-blown sprint. Still Mind: After years of meditation, Noboru's mind has sharpened and is more resistant to mind-affecting magic. Ki Strike: Utilizing an inner energy called Ki, Noboru's unarmed attacks can now pierce various forms of damage reduction and can shatter items regardless of their hardness. Slow Fall: While adjacent to a wall or similar structure, Noboru can use it to slow his descent, taking no injury from a fall. Purity of Body: Noboru's training has advanced his body so far that he is now immune to all sickness and disease save for supernatural and magical diseases. Wholeness of Body: Noboru has such control over his own body that he can partially heal himself from damage. Improved Evasion: Due to his unmatched agility and reflexes, Noboru can easily dodge many forms of attacks. Diamond Body: Noboru's training of his body also gives him immunity to all poisons of any kind. Abundant Step: Noboru has learned how to magically move in the space between spaces, essentially teleporting short distances as if he had used the spell Dimension Door. Diamond Soul: Thanks to his training, Noboru has hardened his body to magical attacks, gaining a resistance to them. Quivering Palm: After reading an ancient scroll given to him by his late master, Noboru has learned a hidden technique that allows him to set vibrations within the body of a living creature that thereafter allow him to attempt to instantly slay the victim if he so wills it. Timeless Body: Noboru has reached such an advanced level in physical perfection that he no longer feels the negative effects of aging and cannot be magically aged. However, he is not immortal and will still die of old age when his time is up. Tongue of the Sun and Moon: Noboru has the ability to speak with any living creature. Empty Body: From studying ancient techniques, Noboru has learned how to freely move between the Material and Ethereal Planes. Perfect Self: Upon reaching spiritual enlightenment, Noboru is now considered to be a magical creature and is forevermore treated as a Native Outsider. He also gains moderate damage reduction against non-magical weapons.
Skills: Balance: With his natural dexterity, Noboru has exceptional balance. Climb: Noboru's physical training allows him to easily climb many surfaces. Concentration: Noboru has a particularly focused mind, allowing him great abilities of concentration. Jump: Noboru's natural athleticism allows him great jumping abilities. Knowledge: Due to his childhood, Noboru knows much about religion. Listen: Having well-honed ears, Noboru's hearing capabilities are quite impressive. Sense Motive: With his many years of life experience, Noboru has gained a sense about other people, being able to more easily detect when they're lying. Spot: Possessing great eyes, Noboru's abilities of sight are very refined. Tumble: Being rather nimble, Noboru can deftly tumble around enemies or obstacles and can land softly, minimizing the effects of falling from great heights.
Feats: Combat Reflexes: Having especially good reflexes, Noboru can easily attack multiple people at the same time, and can even jump right into battle while flatfooted. Dodge: Being swift and dexterous, Noboru is quite exceptional at dodging incoming attacks. Improved Disarm: Noboru has learned how to quickly and easily disarm an opponent, even with nothing more than his bare hands. Snatch Arrows: With almost uncanny speed and reflexes, Noboru can catch arrows and other ranged weapons out of midair and can even throw them right back without disrupting the normal flow of combat. Stunning Fist: While fighting living foes, Noboru can deliver a special blow to stun the opponent, preventing them from doing anything for several seconds.
Appearance: Noboru's appearance is quite deceiving. On the outside, he looks like a weak old man who can barely throw a punch much less kill people. Those who know him, though, realize that this is just a façade to lull others into a false sense of security as he is actually quite capable, even being extraordinarily swift and agile.
However, Noboru still does not look like a kind old man. His wrinkled face always appears devoid of emotion, tough it still seems to always produce a sense of unease upon looking at it, as if he if just waiting for the perfect moment to strike you dead. His well-waxed bald head shines in the light, while his eyes are as black as his soul.
Being of humble origins as a monk, Noboru always wears simple, utilitarian clothing. He has on a loose-fitting cotton akidogi, the top half being a dark grey color while the bottom is a more pure black.
History: Born on the southern coast of Rhemmon (17), Noboru doesn't remember his early life with fond memories. After his father abandoned him as an infant, he was left with his sickly mother who was in no condition to even take care of herself, much less raise a child. As her last act as a mother, she gave Noboru up to the local Monastery of Light when he was only three years old, hoping that he would at least grow up with a roof over his head.
For the next several years, Noboru lived in the monastery with the other monks, leading a peaceful, if dull existence. While there, he learned much of the practices of the church and their beliefs regarding the Creator and the Dark God. Despite all this, he never accepted it. He figured that if the Creator truly did care about the people, then why was he abandoned by his parents?
One day, at the age of six, Noboru discovered ancient texts of martial arts. After asking the monks about them, he was told that long ago, their monastery was known for its powerful warrior monks who could down take down legions of armored soldiers with nothing but their hands and feet. Though it had been a long time since anyone had actually practiced the forgotten arts. Nevertheless determined, Noboru began attempting to read the manuscripts and teach himself their secrets.
It didn't take long for Noboru to attract the attention of someone who could help. While visiting from out of town, another monk by the name of Shou told Noboru about a hidden monastery high in the mountains where Master Aku lived, the last of the Rhemmon warrior monks and that he was willing to bring the boy up there to learn the forgotten arts of the Long Death. Excited, Noboru agreed, and the two departed the next day.
After a long and treacherous journey up the mountain, the two finally arrived before the small monastery, hewn from the very living rock of the mountain. After explaining their plight, Shou and Noboru asked if Master Aku would teach them to be warrior monks. Master Aku considered it for several moments before agreeing and beginning their training. for the next two decades, Shou and Noboru trained under Master Aku, the two of them learning many powerful techniques and abilities from the aging monk while also becoming close friends despite their rather large age gap.
Eventually, after much training, Master Aku brought the two of them before him, saying that he didn't have much time left. Giving one last hidden skill, The Scroll of the Quivering Palm, he said that the rest was up to them to learn on their own. He then gave them their final missions: Shou was to take up Aku's name and forevermore run the monastery in his place while Noboru was to leave the monastery and travel the land, spreading fear and respect for the long-forgotten warrior monks so that all may learn the name of the Long Death.
After Aku's passing, Noboru spent another seven years in the monastery finishing his training with Shou who now referred to himself as Aku as per their late master's wishes. Once satisfied with his skills, Noboru packed up and left, spreading tyranny and fear wherever he went.
His first mission, however, was to find his family, at least to see if they were still alive. It wasn't long before he found that his mother had died almost three decades ago, not long after she gave him up to the monks. His father, on the other hand, took some time to track down. Eventually, though, he found a solid lead after two months of searching. It turned out that his father was a rich merchant who had left his mother and him to continue living a playboy lifestyle. Feeling an indescribable rage despite his years of personal and emotional training, Noboru immediately killed his father with his own hands, feeling no pity or remorse even after the man sincerely apologized and begged for his life. Noboru may have killed many people since then, but he has never felt the satisfaction he did at this moment.
Spending a whole sixteen years in Rhemmon the name Noboru of the Long Death soon became legendary, spoken of in hushed tones as the bringer of despair. Noboru even became a mercenary in the exclusive employ of Rhemmon, being sent out to perform various high-profile political assassinations in the other kingdoms or even within Rhemmon, itself, spreading his name even further, throughout the entire island.
Despite all this, it just wasn't enough for Noboru as he left for the mainland and began spreading his malice to the rest of the world. Unfortunately, due to the sheer size of the rest of the world and his inability to gain any serious foothold in any country's politics, he has so far been unable to spread fear as he so desired. Once the Creator left, this task became even more difficult as now the people were forgetting Noboru to focus all their fear on the Dark God. This prompted Noboru to try and solve the problem, realizing that there would be no one left to fear the Long Death if the Dark God killed them all.
Personality: Thanks to his years of mental focus and training, Noboru is very calm and collected. It is difficult to elicit any emotion from him as he keeps himself under tight control. However, if, at any time, these emotions do happen to seep out, they can be quite explosive. As he has spent most of his life learning to repress his feelings, he doesn't properly know how to deal with them if they do show up. This often leads to him doing things he later regrets.
Noboru is not a nice man. His training under Master Aku has caused him to become cold and oppressive, feeding off the fear and torment of others. Not once has he ever experienced true joy or happiness. For him, it's all business all the time. He spreads tyranny because he must. It is all he lives for. Sometimes he wonders if there might be more to life, but these feelings are quickly swept away. All that matters is what his Master wants for him.
Equipment: Weapons: None. Because of his mastery of martial arts, Noboru is far more deadly with his bare hands than while holding any weapon. Armor: None. Noboru has spent years specifically training to fight unarmored. Clothing: Noboru's only clothing is a dark grey and black akidogi granted to him by Master Aku before he left on his mission of fear. Though he tries his best to keep it in good shape, years of battle have torn it, prompting him to sew it back together, though not with as much skill as he'd like, leaving visible marks. Various such scars dot the uniform here and there even with the occasional patch, though Noboru has made sure they match in color.
Other Personal Information: Hobbies: Noboru is far too busy with his personal enlightenment and oppression of the people to have any time for hobbies. Virtues: Being an oppressive tyrant, Noboru has few virtues. However, one can be assured that he won't break the law, at least not directly, since he frequently uses it as a shield to protect himself from the consequences of his actions. Unlike most in his position, though, Noboru does not take advantage of the people for personal satisfaction being that he has long ago given up such material things. Vices: Evil, murderous, tyrannical, cowardly, oppressive, self-centered. It's hard to not to find flaws with Noboru. He is about as bad as they come. Fears: There is only one thing Noboru fears: Comeuppance. He fears that someday he'll accidentally make one small misstep and will be unable to justify his actions within the bounds of the law. Everything else, even death, is beneath him. He would much rather die than face the consequences of his actions. Goals: Noboru's goal is clear: Spread fear and torment and respect for the Long Death wherever he so walks. Religion: Noboru doesn't care one iota about the gods and consider them horribly oppressive, especially the Dark God. Motive for Joining: At first, Noboru was actually glad that the Creator had disappeared as he never liked her or her church, seeing her as a self-righteous bitch. However, once the Dark God began invading from the north, Noboru became angry as it meant the populous was more afraid of him than they were of the Long Death. In addition, the fact that the Dark God was outright killing everyone ensured that if he succeeded, there would no longer be any people to feel the oppressive hand of the Long Death, as monsters aren't particularly fearful. Thus, Noboru began traveling along the coast to meet up with the group of "heroes" sent to deal with the situation, figuring they could use his help.
Fun Fact: Noboru is a real Japanese name that means "ascend; climb."
Quirk James Green Name: James Green
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Country of Origin: 1a (Sartheria)
Age: 23
Height: 6'4"
Background:
James has experienced a life of rather constant up and downs: In his younger years, he was sent away by his father to be educated by the famed tutor Alexander in Sunkeep, where he was taught in the classic philosophies and sciences. Yet in his late teenage years, upon the urging of his fellows who had traveled with him from his hometown Caligora(town of 1a), he returned to the island to help fight off the invasion forces his nation faced.
James came into a spotlight on the conflict not from any battle, but due to successful diplomatic relations: While not the sole factor, it is widely accepted that the messages which James brought to Carthin and Marsein managed to convince the leaders of these nations to unite against the invaders.
During the actual battles, he also was in the armed forces, taking up a sword and wearing the standard steel of the troops. However, he seemed to surface again and again whenever a diplomatic move was necessary, and became responsible for the current standstill in territory in the northeast and southeast of the island.
When the message went out of the disappearance of the Creator, James arranged for his travel to Sunkeep yet again, to enlist what skills he had towards discovering the truth behind it.
Personality:
James is a person who attempts to assess the reality of situations, and especially to understand people and their situations, with as firm a grasp in the actual facts as possible. However, despite this natural tendency towards facts and understanding, James has, through the nature of his youth and reinforcement through what he's lived through, become an idealist. He has become of the belief that, if a person sets themselves towards something, there is no limit to what can be accomplished, and sees this idea being shown and fulfilled in his conflicts on the island.
In addition, James is a person, when it comes to speaking with others, who is very cautious with what he says, and tries to avoid something which could cause disagreement or disapproval. However, if the right words are said, or his emotions are triggered, James will say almost anything to someone who has earned his trust. This is a flaw he hasn't yet, in his short time span as a diplomat, realized as one.
Appearance:
James has a pale, clean complexion, with rather short blond hair. Due to his experience in the army, his once rather thin frame is now much more muscular in appearance. Underneath his armor, he wears rather simple, but comfortable, wool clothing.
Skills:
James knows how to wield a mace and shield in combat, and is also properly trained in how to wear armor. In addition to this, he has a (very) basic understanding of military tactics, has a natural talent at diplomacy, and is trained in the philosophies and knowledges of the world as it exists at this time (the details of this can be worked on later, if needed).
Half Tooth Scylliria Aeori Name: Scylliria Aeori (Traslates as Scylliria the Observer) (Her name is pronounced Sil-ear-ria) Race: Tsydra or Sea Elf Gender: Female Age: 201 Height: 5ft 5' or 1.65m Class: Observer and Freelancer Being an Observer is Scyllirias's greatest passion. Observer's record as much information about the world as possible either through writing or sculpture or art. They generally spend a lot of time travelling and exploring, noting down all their observations about the world. Being a Freelancer is how Scylliria earns her living and greatly aids her Observational studies. As a freelancer, Scylliria will work for anyone doing almost anything... for a price. She will hunt for treasure, deliver or collect items, pass on messages, kill creatures or people etc... the only thing she refuses to do is steal. Alignment: Chaotic Good Skin Tone: Pale turquoise blue. She is also slightly scaly. Eye Colour: Her eyes are a hard steel blue, cold and vast like the ocean. Hair: She has a lot of hair, it's a pale blue colour and hangs to way below her waist. Even when above water her hair tends to move as though it's rippling Personality: Scylliria even for an elf is quiet, She prefers to keep quiet in order to observe the world around her without her manipulating it or interfering. She knows lots of people but has only one friend whom she treasures deeply. If she takes a disliking to you, you probably wont be able to tell and if she takes a liking to you, you probably wont be able to tell either. To most she comes across as stony, cold and indifferent, some would even question if there was anything to her at all. She does however have lots of ideas and opinions, she just struggles to make herself understood. Virtues: Never lies, Sticks to her word, values all life equally (including plant and animal life) Vices: Is untactful with her honesty, changes her mind often and is quite inconsistent. Is just as likely to kill you as she is to hug you. Personal quote: "I'll just do it myself." Appearance: A rough mixture of these two images is what she physically looks like: LinkLink 2 Background:Early Years: Scylliria was brought up as any other Tsydrian child would be. The only thing that was different was that only a year or so before another elf had been born. This meant that for the first time in nearly 700 years there were two elf children at the same time. Scylliria and the other elf child; Vell grew up together and bonded strongly. Both of them found they struggled to communicate with everyone except each other, which strengthened their relationship even more. The Bit in the Middle: Deciding to become an observer was an easy decision. She spent most of her adult life exploring the islands and the ocean noting down literally everything she could about anything and everyone. She enjoys her job as a freelancer since it means she is not tied down to anything, she is free like water should be. Recent History: Since the Light Goddess left their world, all the ancestral water has completely vanished from the sea. This has affected all the elves deeply as the sea now feels cold and still where it once felt alive and peaceful. There was a call among her people for one of them to join the quest in search of the lost Goddess. Scylliria put herself forward and is on her way to meet the other heroes. Weapons: She fights with a double bladed glaive which has been made from a mixture of bones, metal and other hard materials found on the ocean floor. Her glaive is decorated with pearls and gems and has patterns carved into it. It looks like a more extravagant version of the right most glaiveShe is capable with a spear and a harpoon, but only uses them if she has to. And where there isn't room to swing a glaive or spear she uses a blade that is somewhere between being a short sword and a dagger. Clothing: When above water she usually wears a long flowing skirt and a long sleeved top. Her clothes are usually pale in colour and are decorated very intricately with embroidery and tiny bits of pearl. Racial Abilities:Shapeshifting: Like all sea elves, Scylliria can semi transform into anything aquatic. The most common of these transformations are changing her legs into a tail, growing thicker scales, growing gills, adding webbing between her fingers and changing her feet into flippers. Natural nimbleness: Like most aquatic creatures, the Tsydra have lightning quick reactions and are quite fast moving. This ability decreases the further a sea elf is from water but this is due to the depression caused from being apart from water not because the distance itself actually affects their abilities. Keen Senses: Tsydra have heightened senses, which is critical for their underwater endeavours. Magic Abilities:It would be easier to sum up and say that Scylliria can make water do just about anything she wills it to, within reason. Her magic is based on changing only what is around her, she can’t create something from nothing, she will also take energy from the water and redistribute it to make the water go where she wants it to. The sort of things she uses water for most often are: -Creating a healing spring which slowly but surely heals almost any wound -Making a wall of water which is capable to absorbing incoming projectiles such as arrows and all but the strongest of fire based magic. -Making a bubble of water around herself which has the same properties as her water wall. -Moving water around. This includes; halting it, speeding it up, making it rise up and slam into enemies. (This is better used in lakes and rivers rather than the sea due to the fact that most creatures in the sea wouldn't really be damaged from having water slam into them) -When underwater only she can release a huge wave of energy which shoves all surrounding enemies away from her and creates huge ripples in the water.
Evil Pigeon Celaia Name: Celaia Name: Skoll
Race: Human Race: Demon
Age: 17 Age: 200
Gender: Female Gender: Asexual
About: Describing Celaia’s life is difficult without also talking about Skoll, the pair of them are quite literally inseparable. Celaia was very young when she was invaded, although this was nothing unusual so far as being possessed goes, most demons that aren’t powerful enough to manifest their own forms are also too weak to break through the defences of a fully developed sentient mind, only those too young or too weak to resist are at risk of possession. However, once a person has been inhabited there’s no redemption, demons are almost impossible to force out without killing the host and on the few occasions where exorcism has succeeded it’s also left the host with very little of their own mind left in-tact. This means that Celaia has been Skoll for 12 of her 17 years and can barely remember a time when her thoughts weren’t subject to the scrutiny of another.
The again there are many other aspects of normal life that Celaia can barely remember: Life outside the Church of Light is a dream. Loss is the largest aspect shaping Celaia’s personality, she has no family, no name and literally no childhood as the Church encourages possessing demons to age their host’s bodies as quickly as possible to allow them to start training. It also lessens the stress on the handlers that’s caused by the brutal nature of the training they inflict upon hosts.
Training being another term for sustained torture.
For the hosts, life under demonic possession is a path strewn with pitfalls, generally ending in either death or insanity. Avoiding these pitfalls is difficult and the Church’s solution to this is to trigger as many as possible in a (relatively) secure environment. For the hosts this means pain, drugs and a ruthlessly spartan lifestyle all designed both to sate the demon’s needs for emotional energy and to force the hosts to learn to cope with the extremes of their volatile personalities. It’s a brutal program that proves too much for many, something the Church sees as a worthy sacrifice for cheaply creating a weapon as powerful as a stable host.
Celaia is typical of those who survive the process; typically quiet and introverted, her mood can be highly volatile and shifts at the slightest stimulus, shaped and egged on as she has always been by Skoll who’s become a master at manipulating her. Celaia is terrified of her handlers and almost unthinkingly obeys any order given to her by a member of the Church, although if challenged she’d always claim that she felt a great love for fellow members of the Church and outwardly she appears quite devout. Unsurprisingly however Celaia finds it difficult to identify with a culture and religion in which she is seen as a pariah and were it not for Skoll she would have sought a way to free long ago. As it is she feels somewhat removed from the human race and regards them with a mixture of repressed hatred and envy that leaves with no qualms in obeying the very animalistic combat instincts that Skoll has implanted.
Celaia’s relationship with Skoll is complex, she’s grown up with the demon, who she thinks of as male, living inside her and whilst she resents what his presence has done to her life she also finds difficult to harbour a grudge against what is essentially a part of herself, one that has been essential to adapting and surviving the trials and tribulations of her harsh life. Skoll for his part is fond of Celaia. He pities her for what she’s had to sacrifice to enable him to continue living although this certainly doesn’t mean he’d be willing to give up his hold on her, nor does it stop him from manipulating her body and emotions for his benefit. Generally he regards her as a rather intelligent pet.
Skoll doesn’t talk about life before Celaia which is unsurprising given that being forced to take up a host is embarrassing and it’s difficult to recover sufficiently to once again manifest a body, effectively it’s a way of prolonging inevitable death.
Appearance: Celia stands at about 5 and a half feet, her hair is long and dark and she cuts an athletic, if slightly hunched figure. The reason for this is a long monkey-like tail and boney armoured plates that cover her back and arms. Typically these are hidden beneath a thick robe when in public, underneath which she habitually wears a chainmail vest and leggings so as to maximise her agility in combat. Rather more difficult to hide than her natural armour are her thin, taloned hands which are strong, dextrous and definitely non-human. They also constitute Celaia’s main weapon as less natural tools such as swords or spears tend to get lost in the midst of her bloodlust in combat.
Edited by Darkom, Jul 20 2011, 04:21 PM.
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Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain
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Darkom
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Jul 20 2011, 04:13 PM
Post #3
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Philosophizer
- Posts:
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Character Sheets, Continued
The remainder of our heroes.
Character Sheets:
Ambrose Matthew Jenning Name: Matthew Jenning Age: 33 Country of Origin: Atlas (Country 13) Appearance: Matthew is a very handsome man, with smooth features, almost like you would see in a statue. Standing at 5'11", he isn't particularly tall, and is in fact a bit shorter than average for the men of his land, and is of average weight. He isn't particularly fit, but he isn't without muscles either. He has very well kept and styled blonde hair, and clear, bright blue eyes. His expression seems almost eternally fixed in a relaxed smile, and he looks like a kind and easily approachable person. And yet… There's still something very discomforting about him. Picture: http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs19/f/2007/268/7/5/Johan_Liebert__law_student__by_cwolz.jpg Personality: Having been raised in Altas, discipline was ingrained into his psyche almost from birth, and as a result, he has a near ridiculous amount of control over his emotions. This has prevented him from suffering many of the adverse effects of using destruction magic, which so often drives mages insane. He's typically very pleasant to most people he meets, and even with people he doesn't like, he can at least maintain a veneer of civility. He would never stoop to the level or argument and insults. It's beneath him. He is always willing to help others in trouble, though at the same time he isn't particularly self-sacrificing, so don't expect him to put himself in harm's way without a very good reason. Ability Description: Matthew is extremely competent with dark magic, particularly destruction spells. He has some ability in other, more uncommon types, and many of the more "regular" schools, but his main strength is with destroying things. When it comes to manipulating the elements, Matthew is a true master. Though he prefers wind and water, no element is off limits to him. He has no ability whatsoever with conventional weapons, and doesn't carry so much as a dagger as a result. Neither does he know how to fight in hand to hand. In short, if his magic is defeated, he has no chance of victory save a miracle granted by god. Weapons/Armor: He carries none of either. Why bother with weapons he can't use and armor he doesn't need? Other items: A semi-large flask at his waist which is filled with enchanted mercury. Matthew uses the fluid inside for his favorite spell. Brief History: Born in the small town of Lear, Matthew was raised into magic by his parents, who were both skilled mages. As a result, he has been training in magic since he could walk. At some point in his life, he came to possess the belief that he had some sort of destiny, and that he would cause a great, long-lasting peace. How he came to this fantasy only he knows, but with the invasion of the Dark God's armies, Matthew's delusion seems all the more impossible. Now he has joined a company of individuals that have been sent on a quest to find the Lost God, as it may be the only chance he'll ever get to see his dream come true. Specific Skills: Item Construction, Level B: Capable of creating powerful enchantments and other magical items with limited time and materials. Mad Enhancement, Level D: Due to Mental Contamination, caster is no longer capable of using purely mental spells, with all spells now requiring at least a basic incantation. In return, all offensive spells are given a slight power boost. Magic Resistance, Level C: Due to long experience manipulating magic, the caster is capable of basic level protection against most simple to intermediate spells. This can come in the form of shield spells, an innate understanding of how to avoid a spell's effects, or knowing how to cancel or void a cast spell. Clairvoyance, Level C: Eyesight is reinforced, with the ability to see a much farther distance than a normal person through the use of a cast spell. Eye of the Mind (True), Level B: Capable of calm analysis of battle conditions even when in danger, and can deduce an appropriate course of action after considering all possibilities to escape from a predicament. Headache Sufferer, Level B: Due to headaches caused by Mental Contamination, the use of high level spells requires far more effort than a typical mage would put forth. Long incantations become strenuous to make, and prolonged combat can have distinctly negative effects. Magecraft, Level A: Mage is capable of using very high level magic, and has knowledge of Greater Rituals. Higher level spells no longer require the original incantation, and can be cast in less time for greater effect. Mental Contamination, Level B: Due to Mental Contamination from using high level hazardous spells, the mage's mind is now unstable. He can reject all attempts at influencing his mind, but on the other hand, he is incapable of understanding the reasoning behind those without a similar level of Mental Contamination. He is still sane and capable of rational thought, but significant strain on his mind could cause cracks to form. Mystic Eyes, Level E: There is a basic enchantment over this character's eyes. There is no particular effect outside of a cosmetic one. Mana Burst, Level B: Capable of injecting mass amounts of mana into a spell or weapon, causing a significant increase in its power in exchange for the spell or weapon immediately disintegrating. Protection of the Faith, Level A: A skill possessed only by those who have sacrificed themselves for a religious view. Despite being a form of Divine Protection, it is not a blessing from a higher existence. It is only the absoluteness of one's body and soul, which is born from faith.... But if it is too high, it causes abnormalities in the personality. Notable Weapons/Spells: Avalon: A spell that surrounds the caster in a thin dome of enchanted mercury, which is capable of hardening to protect the caster from most average level weapons and spells. At the same time, tendrils of liquid mercury can shoot out of the dome in the form of razor-sharp whips, attacking enemies within a small radius. Regular Theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olfI2LZHt5Q&feature=relatedBattle Theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EylyYyalPFo&feature=relatedAlaric Name: Alaric (Last name stricken from the records.) Age: 47 Country of Origin: Themis (15b) Appearance: A large, intimidating man, Alaric stands at 6'4", and with his muscular figure, he makes for an imposing sight even for a soldier. A bald man with dark, dull green eyes, he always seems to have a scowl on his face, and even when he doesn't, he still looks as though he’s brooding or angry. Definitely the sort of person you want to avoid speaking to for any length of time. Picture: http://th09.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2011/182/c/2/1309527924_xcxcxc_by_tanathe-d3kn3oc.jpgPersonality: Alaric is an intensely bitter and hateful man. Having lost his title and last name in a very well publicized situation mired in rumors, he has a recognizable face no matter where he goes, and he constantly feels as though he can't escape the past. Rather than try and move on, however, he tries instead to use that rage as a focus, and this carries over into everything he does. Intensely suspicious of others, the only thing he felt he could turn to was his god, which has now deserted him. He still holds that faith, which is the only thing keeping him from tipping over the edge into a bloody rampage, but for how long, no one can guess. Ability Description: Alaric has spent most of his life since losing his title in the service of the Church of Light, hunting down bands of heretics and blasphemers, and fighting the Church's war against the forces of corruption on the edge of the Withered Lands (25). As such, he is very competent with a sword. He knows how some of the basics of magic work, but is incapable of using them, and has no desire to learn. He has a basic competency with hand-to-hand fighting as well, but don't expect him to be slaughtering hoards of orcs. Weapons/Armor: See picture (I'm terrible at describing this sort of stuff.). The only thing notable about the weapon and armor is that they're relics from when he was a noble, and thus rather old. The armor has nothing special about it aside from that, although the sword has an enchantment. Brief History: Born to a high noble family in Themis, Alaric had been expected to inherit, being the eldest son. One night, however, his entire family, along with the estate that they lived on, was destroyed in a great fire. Alaric was the only survivor, apparently having been away when the fire was set. He was blamed for the event despite not being there, and while he railed and fought against it, he was sentenced to death by the king of Themis. He would have been executed on the spot, had a member of the Church of Light not intervened on his behalf. The Church gave him a deal. He would be allowed to live, and in return, he would hand over his life and destiny to the Church, to be their eternal servant. Alaric accepted, and has been enforcing the Church's interests all across the land ever since. Specific Skills: Holy Knight, Level A: Character gains a large bonus to all abilities when fighting for a cause. If the character experiences doubt, however, the character will take a massive hit to all parameters and will permanently lose access to this status. Guardian Knight, Level C: Character gains a bonus to all abilities except defense when protecting someone else. Defense, however, is lowered due to recklessness. Mad Enhancement, Level B: Due to Protection of the Faith, the character is now capable of ignoring all attempts at influencing him and gets bonuses to attacking power. However, at this point, the character is beginning to experience the harsher negative traits, including bouts of rage, irrationality in battle, and the chance of falling into a berserker state. Monstrous Strength, Level C: Due to the effects of Mad Enhancement, the character is capable of bursts of incredible power beyond his normal capacity. This comes at the price of a serious hit to stamina. Swordmaster, Level B: Character is capable of wielding a blade with great proficiency. The character knows the details of sword-play with intimate knowledge; however, he has no understanding of how to use other forms of weaponry. Eye of the Mind (Fake), Level D: Character occasionally has feelings of dread or unease when their life is in danger, even if there is no apparent cause for alarm. No bonus is given to saving throws and no ability is given to make use of this knowledge. The character simply knows that something bad is about to happen. Magecraft, Level E: Mage is capable of making use of enchantments and casting basic level spells so long as the spells are reliant on a factor other than the mage's own skill. All spells, regardless of level, must have an incantation, even if it is only activating an enchantment. All spells cast also have a weaker effect and cost more mana. Protection of the Faith, Level EX: A Skill possessed only by those who have sacrificed themselves for a religious view. Despite being a form of divine protection, it is not a blessing from a higher existence. It is only the absoluteness of one's body and soul, which is born from faith.... But if it is too high, it causes abnormalities in the personality. At this high a level, the character has become completely fanatical, and incapable of accepting views other than their own. Berserker Rage, Level D: At this level, the character gains slight bonuses to attack and speed, however, the character also takes massive losses to defense and is incapable of rational thought or planning while in this state. There is a chance of this ability triggering whenever the character is injured, no matter how slight the injury. Imperial Right, Level E: This character was born into nobility, and as such expects respect. However, due to some event, the character is now Disgraced. The character's noble status has no effect, aside from influencing the character's ego. Disgraced, Level A: Due to some event, this character has lost all noble status. This is a serious blow to the character's psyche, and they may be unstable as a result. Charisma is lowered to an extreme level. Notable Weapons/Spells: His sword, Laevatein, is an enchanted sword that has belonged to his family for generations. It's so old, in fact, that no one even knows what the name means. When activated, the enchantment heats the sword to such a degree that it is capable of cutting through nearly anything. However, due to Alaric's low mana capacity, he can't use this enchantment more than once during a fight, or he'd be completely exhausted by the attempt. Faithful Regular Theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwcUMWCkwUY&feature=relatedFaithful Battle Theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivSWDBvAEqE&feature=relatedLost Faith Regular Theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhT18ZT6hxw&feature=relatedLost Faith Battle Theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvdjIzIABI8&feature=related
Colonel Mustard Duhos Oregember Name: Duhos Oregember Title: The First Race: Golem Gender: Indeterminate, but with a personality that can definitely be called Male. Age: “Spend what seems to be an eternity trapped beneath earth, unable to move, unable to do anything but rhythmically tap one finger against another to try and count the years passing by, while mud turns to clay, and clay to rock, all around you, and then, mortal, then talk to me of boredom.”Uncertain, but he guesses at around eight and a half thousand years, much of which has been spent trapped underground. Home Country: Geographically, from Culfoss (2a), though the kingdom that occupied it when Duhos was made went by a different name and had far different bounds. Factions: He holds loyalty to no particular faction, but instead holds his loyalty to the Creator Herself. Surprisingly, he holds the modern Church of the Creator in contempt, viewing it as a bastardisation of the version of the Church that created him and his kin. Appearance: Large and lumpen, Duhos was originally made as something elegant and statuesque. However, millennia of damage and improvised repairs with his own, clumsy hands have marred his appearance permanently, and now he is a humanoid, patchworked mass of clay, stone and metal. His face, set into his broad shoulders, is a child’s work in clay, quite simply two round pits for eyes and a long gash for a mouth, without nose, ears or hair of any kind. http://i346.photobucket.com/albums/p417/thebean011/Duhos.jpg?t=1311009411 (I spent only 20 minutes or so on the sketch, so my apologies for it not being a Turner Prize winner ;)) Hair: None Eyes: Two pits gouged into his face, blazing with internal fire Skin: A mixture of stone, clay and metal of varying hues Height: 7 feet Weight: 300 kg Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: None Personality: Incredibly old, Duhos’ personality can be equated to that of a senile old man, a combination of the honour-driven Oregember culture and millennia of experience (much of that being trapped underground) causing him to become an extremely short tempered individual. He has little time for those he deems fools or cowards, and has an extreme hatred of those who serve the Dark Lord. He is generally haughty and supercilious to humans and elves alike, who he often addresses as ‘mortal,’ and is angered easily; however, much of this rage is taken out as loud bluster instead physical violence. However, should you gain his loyalty and respect, he is an implacably steadfast companion; the oaths of service written into his Vallal (the magical, sealed scroll that sustains him, buried deep within his broad, burly chest) have written honour into his very nature. He holds a great respect for those who are not only skilled warriors, but also cunning thinkers and skilful mages; he is able to appreciate that such things take effort and talent. To those that he does care for, his nature is a great deal warmer and more accommodating, and he is also greatly protective of them. However, to those who gain his enmity or his dislike, he is implacable in his hatred of them, and it takes a great deal of effort for him to restrain himself from killing them outright; he has a great dislike for those he deems cowardly or dishonourable, as well as a burning hatred of servants of the Dark. Hobbies: He collects figurines. Exactly why is a mystery, but he has a collection of carefully stored fine bone and china figurines from all around the world, from coral-carved statuettes made by sea elves to crude stone totems made by the tribesmen of the wild north, kept in a small and carefully sealed, well armoured, water-proofed chest that he has slung over his neck, of which he is incredibly protective. Vices: Pride and arrogance Virtues: Highly honourable, honest to a fault and incredibly courageous for those he cares for. Fears: Nothing. He was not made to fear. Goals: With all his masters long dead, Duhos has no real goal, instead moving from one cause that he deems worthy of attention to another. Religion: An old, old form of the traditional Creator worship, one that is far more ritualistic and hardline than the current Church. He holds a fanatical loyalty to the Creator, whom he calls the ‘Old Maiden’ or ‘Young Crone.’ Weapons: A heavy steel falchion, with a few enchanted runes carved upon the blade to guard it against rust and wear, as well as his own considerable mass and heavily armoured hide. Clothing: None. He has no need of it Armour: He wears no armour aside from his own thick hide; the fact that he is made of a mixture of clay, stone and metal means that he has no soft flesh for sword blades to stab or axes to wrend, and, indeed, is practically immune to such weapons. However, he is vulnerable to mauls, hammers and picks, which can shatter his form or chip it apart, and siege weaponry or sufficiently powerful spells would be enough to bring him down with relative ease. However, he is immune to poisons and acids of all kinds, does not require sleep, is utterly tireless, is largely unaffected by heat except for that which is exceptionally hot and his Vallal means that he is resistant to most mind-controlling spells. Miscellaneous: Besides his precious figurines, nothing much Magic: Aside from the spells and minor divine power imbued into him by his magically-sustained nature, none. He lacks the patience and natural power for magical work. History: “You made me. With your clay you carved me, with your ink you scribed my Vallal, with your steel you forged my weapons. Your magic bought me into the world, your rituals caused me to come into being. My life is yours to command, to give at your notice. This is my oath, and upon my honour, it shall not be broken. Thus speaketh I.”-Oath of the OregemberDuhos Oregember was once The First, commander of a small army of golems known as the Oregember that protected the now long-gone city of Disolthrem. Made to be more intelligent, stronger and more independent than the automatons at his command, with the skills of planning and strategy as well as martial prowess written into his Vallal, Duhos and his golems were supposed to be the city’s best defence against anything that might threaten it. Unfortunately, his army of golems that protected the city were not enough to stop the horde of werebeasts, orc, gremlins, vampires and twisted men that, using the power of foul sorceries and great cunning, slipped through the warring nations of the long-forgotten world and launched an assault on Disolthrem. Despite the valiant efforts of Disolthrem’s human soldiery and of the Oregember, the forces of the Dark God eventually defeated them, storming the city and burning it to the ground. Its stepped temples went up in flames, flat-roofed houses reduced to piles of rubble. Its citizenry was enslaved or slaughtered, and for days the minions of the Dark One feasted triumphantly before an alliance of nearby kingdoms, worried for their own fate, managed to drive them away. However, the damage had been done, and none stayed to rebuild Disolthrem, its surviving citizens too few and the city far too damaged for any repair. Slowly, what was left of it crumbled to nothing, covered by earth, forgotten by all. Except for one. In his final stand in the Temple of the Creator, Duhos had been buried in a slew of rubble and lay there trapped, unable to move beneath the great weight that bore down upon him. For an age he waited, while above, the world turned. Kingdoms and empires rose and fell, invasions by the Dark God were beaten back without him, and all the while Duhos waited. Finally, he was dug up by miners trying to investigate an unusual seam of quality stone (unaware that what they were digging up was, in fact, the ruins of old Disolthrem), and from it, he rose. Distraught that Disolthrem had been destroyed, something that he held as a great personal failure, Duhos also found himself in a unique position; all his masters were dead, and he was free to work under his own initiative. For the past few hundred years, Duhos has wandered the land, desperately trying to atone for his failures. He is drawn to noble and honourable causes, seeking to redeem himself in the eyes of the Creator, and as his frustration grew so too did his shortness of temper and reckless nature. His skill as a commander has greatly atrophied, replaced with a burning, near-uncontrollable hatred of the Dark God, while near constant, clumsy repairs made by him have caused his once elegant and noble appearance to have disappeared long ago, replaced with something that is ugly, crude, brutish but very functional indeed. Motive for Joining: The Goddess was invoked during his creation and Her power was part of what sustains him; he feels that it is his duty to seek Her out now that She is gone. As well as this, his desire for atonement means that he feels duty bound to go; should he do a deed as worthy as this, he feels that he may finally have made up for his great failure. Fun Fact: His name is de-umlauted Hungarian for ‘angry old man.’
James Wayne Manning Name: Wayne Manning Race: Human Gender: Male Age: 29 Home Country: 13 (Atlas) Factions: Unaffiliated Class: Bard Class Description: A wandering “jack-of-all-trades” Skills: Locks, Music, can use swords, Inter-personal skills
Appearance: Being thin boned and gaunt makes him appear unthreatening and meek, and slightly lanky, although his clothing hides this to a certain degree. Hair: Dark Brown Eyes: Blue Skin: Naturally white, he has tanned somewhat in his travels. Height: Six foot Weight: Thin Scars: Some faint scars on his arms and body, nothing unusual for a man of his life style.
Personality: Fiercely loyal to his own personal sense of ethics and those he feels he is obligated to help. However his sense of ethics is very limited and is known to cheat and scam to achieve greater goals, or for his own survival and benefit. Occasionally his belief that the end justifies the needs conflicts with his wish to protect those who he cares for leading to severe doubt of his own actions. Hobbies: Gambling and exploring the old and forgotten places in the world. Vices: Dice (although knowing how to cheat makes this less expensive than it sounds) and gold. Virtues: Sympathetic to the “little people” of the world. Religion: Apathetic
Weapons: A rapier (looks far too expensive for a travelling minstrel), two knives one on his waist, one in a boot. Armour: Chain mail shirt, gloves and boots of leather. Clothing: Black pants and a white shirt. Travelling cloak that is a dark brown with a hood that he usually wears down and ties around his waist with a plaid sash. Miscellaneous: Weighted dice (two 6’s and two 1’s), Magic: Illusions
History: Born into a noble family of the highly imperialistic nation of Atlas he displayed ability with arcane magic. However when he saw the offences that his nation forced the magically gifted to perpetrate in the name of the ever expanding nation. Given a choice between betraying his country or his ethics he stole into the night at the age of fourteen, the night before he was to be enrolled in the military academy. Motive for Joining: He claims adventure, gold, and women; although part of him genuinely feels that bringing back the Lost God will help the disadvantaged and poor of the world. Fun Fact: Can juggle
Darkom Sir Wilbur Anselm of Wellay; Unfinished
As stated, this sheet is unfinished. I was so busy getting the OP up and making sure everything was settled that I didn't have enough time to finish my own character. My apologies, but he will be done in time for everyone to meet him at Wellay. Thank you.
Name: Sir Wilbur Anselm of Wellay Nicknames: The Gray Knight, Stoneburke Anselm, The Bookkeeper Name Meaning: Will Burh (Fortress of Will); Ans Elm (God’s Helm); Stone Burke (Fortress of Stone) Race: Human Gender: Male Age: 51 Home Country: Wellay (4b) Factions: The Shining Army – General; The Knights of Sybil – Grandmaster; The Duchy of Wellay – Councilman
Class: Knight; General Class Description: The pinnacle of human military prowess, a knight of the High Kingdoms is born and bred to make war. Usually the second sons of the nobility, these heavily armored soldiers spend their lives learning the ways of the sword. On the field, they are first and foremost horsemen; a well timed cavalry charge has been known to turn many a battle. Armed with lances, astride powerful steeds, and protected by layers of shining steel, a knight is nearly indomitable in combat.
An army, even one made of well trained knights, is nothing, however, without an able general commanding the ranks. A good general is both a veteran of bloody slaughters and a well read scholar, a passionate speaker and a calculating logician. A man that can not only form an orderly retreat, he can raise morale while doing it. It is said that wars are started by kings, but they are ended by generals.
Skills: Wilbur was once called the perfect soldier. In combat he was without equal, a champion of many jousts, and victor of more hard fought battles. He has spent years learning the edge of his blade, decades on the field, and through it all he has grown as hard as the steel he lives by. He was a peerless rider, and masterful shot with the bow. The years, have, however, dulled his senses, and rendered his indomitable physique rather rotund. His muscles have weakened, his bones grown brittle, and his endless stamina has dried up. He can still take apart a lesser fighter piecemeal, but when matched against another swordsman, his body simply can’t keep up.
He was, perhaps, even more famous as a general than a warrior, both for his ingenious tactics and rallying charisma. He won many battles others claimed were hopeless, and turned the tide of combat simply by raising his standard on the field. It’s said that when he was caught virtually alone in enemy territory, he raised an army from the peasants working the fields, and with it crushed a rival king’s legion of professional soldiers.
Aside from his martial prowess, Wilbur is a dedicated scholar. A student of all forms of knowledge, ranging from history to philosophy, he has devoted himself to learning in his later years. He can be found more often in the castle library than the practice field; he is more accustomed to leather bindings than leather sheaths. He has even founded a knightly order devoted to the preservation of knowledge: the Knights of the Sybil, and continues to serve as grandmaster.
Appearance: Hair: In his youth, it’s said, Wilbur could make a room of women swoon by removing his helmet. His hair was renowned for its length, reaching past his shoulders, and its color, black as pitch on a moonless night. As the years wore on, however, and the young knight grew into an old general, Wilbur’s prized locks thinned, faded. The ravages of time have stained his midnight hair an ashen gray, streaked with silver, and forced it to retreat back onto his scalp like a routed army. Now he keeps it swept back (to hide a growing bald spot, some whisper) past his protruding ears, and down to his broad shoulders. Eyes: Wilbur’s eyes could have been chipped from the same cold gray steel he wears at his hip. Always calm, always calculating, a stare from this man has been known to cow even the most outspoken of men. His soldiers claim to see those eyes in their dreams, watching with a disapproving air at their fantasies. Skin: As a soldier, Wilbur’s sun dappled body was the center of many noble ladies’ gossip, his physique as attractive as his confident persona. Hard years of campaigning, however, have weathered his smooth skin into the wrinkled, spotted shell of an old man. His most prominent lines are the deep marks along his brow, furrows from his now constant scowl, and the loosened skin along his neck. His hands are dotted with liver spots, and dark blue veins run the lengths of his arms and legs. Height: Still an impressive figure in his old age, Wilbur stands just over six feet tall, his large torso contributing more to his height than his relatively stocky legs. Weight: Wilbur has always been a large man, but in his age soft fat has begun to replace corded muscle. He is a square man, with wide shoulders and large arms, but a small paunch has begun to bulge from his stomach. Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:
Personality:
Hobbies: Vices: Virtues:
Fears: Goals: Religion:
Weapons: Armor:
Clothing: Miscellaneous:
Magic: Wilbur possesses almost no aptitude for magic, though knows intricately its uses for warfare. He was one of the many advocates for a school of wizardry in Sunkeep, one of the few outside the jurisdiction of the Church, primarily for their use in combat.
History:
Motive for Joining: Loyalty to his king and country, along with a piety rivaling Priests of the Light, have all moved Wilbur to join the expedition east. He would rather be leading Sunkeep’s armies north, to face the horde of darkness that threatens the land, but did not question the duke’s judgment when he told him their only hope lay in finding the Lost God. Fun Fact: Wilbur knows of the legends and rumors that surround his name, he has heard of how the peasants whisper of his deeds, and whenever they are brought up, he cannot help but smile. Throughout his years as a general, he ordered many of his troops to bring false myths back home with them. Not because he desires greater renown- he would do without it, if he could- but he knows the effect these stories have on the morale of his men, as well as his enemies. To be led by Stoneburke Anselm, the Gray Knight himself, is to be guaranteed victory.
Nicholas Fulk Also unfinished, but he won't be joining us until we reach the last of the Free Cities, so don't worry about him. 
Edited by Darkom, Jul 20 2011, 04:23 PM.
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Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain
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Darkom
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Jul 20 2011, 04:36 PM
Post #4
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Philosophizer
- Posts:
- 245
- Group:
- Admin
- Member
- #21
- Joined:
- July 26, 2010
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The Grand Hall of Castle Sunkeep; March 1st, 1066 AL (Age of Light)
A yellow light dawned on the marble walls of Sunkeep, the city's shadows shrinking as morning slowly conquered the night. Sunkeep, center of the Golden Kingdoms, awoke to the sound of bells ringing in the spires of the castle, which served as both court and cathedral for the city. The wide, stone paved streets slowly began to fill with people, the citizens rising to their daily tasks. As the sun rose over the eastern hills the morning bells fell silent, their echoes ringing their final calls against the city's famous alabaster walls.
As soon as the bells fell quiet, a new cacophony of sound filled the city. The calls of merchants, hawking their wares; the city guard, their boots stomping against the cobblestone; and a constant, low buzz- the sound of thousands of voices, all talking at once as they went about their day. Carriages rolled through the streets, the drivers shouting at pedestrians as their noble employers sat unseen within. Another ordinary morning in All World's largest city.
Rising above it all, towering over the shops and houses, dwarfing even the harbor warehouses, sat Castle Sunkeep. The city's namesake, the castle dominated the sprawling metropolis below. Towers and battlements rose from the central block like the arms of some mythic beast, the crenellated parapets jutting like square fingers. Its daunting white walls were broken only by brilliant stained glass windows, reverent images of the Goddess reflecting colored shards of light onto the marble floors below.
Upon the castle's only balcony, a single man stood, gazing at the sea with somber eyes. The tall figure cast a long shadow on the stone, his auric crown sparkling in the morning light, bright against his tawny hair. His beard, the same burnished hazel as his locks, fell neatly against his chest. He wore a robe of magnifent gold, shimmering with a Tsydrian ripple , trimmed in soft white fur. He placed his long hands upon the stone balcony, looking down with a sigh. A single ring adorning his right, the sunburst crest sparkling. Yet, for all his finery, the king shook his head sadly.
"This day should bring me hope," he began, his voice carrying the deep tones of an orator, "The sun rises in the sky, my people still live free. Yet all I can think is that it brings Him one day closer." The king turned his sea-blue eyes back to the city below, frowning behind his beard.
"My lord," a sharply dressed steward appeared at the door behind him, bowing deeply before continuing, "The first of the- the people you requested have arrived in the grand hall."
The king smiled weakly, nodding slightly to the servant before returning his gaze to the sea. "There may still be hope yet, then, Gerald."
The dark haired steward nodded, apparently used to his king's wistful sentiments. "There always is, my lord."
The robed man turned, clapping the thin servant on the shoulders. "That's why I like you, Gerald. You always know the right thing to say." Gerald only nodded, his face impassive. "And why don't we give these men their proper title, if we are to discuss them. They are heroes, Gerald, perhaps the greatest this world has ever seen."
Gerald sniffed, a look of uncertainty crossing his face, but he nodded nonetheless. "Shall I tell them to wait on you in the throne room, sire?"
"No, no, I'll be ready shortly," the king said, crossing the balcony, striding quickly towards the door. "See that they are attended to in the great hall; food, drinks, anything they desire. I shall inform you when I am ready to recieve them. We must make a good impression, no?"
The steward, baffled, followed the king through the doorway, the room beyond dim compared to the sunlit balcony. The king was already rummaging through several desk drawers, paper scattering his immaculate bedroom floor. "But, my lord, you are the King of Sunkeep, Father of the Church of the Light. Why all the concern for these mercenaries?"
The king paused, one arm elbow deep in a cabinet. "Because, Gerald, these men are not sellswords. I told you, they are heroes; the only hope we have left at beating back the Darkness." He rose, slowly, his robed form towering over the steward. "Tend to their every whim, my fine assistant, until I call for them. That is an order. Or would you rather be the Master of the Golden Kingdoms, and I a lowly servant?"
Gerald squeaked, bowing repeatedly as he backed out of the room, muttering apologies. The king sighed as the door closed, sitting heavily on his large, white bed. "Honestly, that man forgets himself too often. If he weren't such a damned good chamberlain he'd have been replaced years ago. I hope those heroes don't have as much trouble with him."
The king looked back at his desk, his heavy brow furrowing in thought. His azure eyes grew glassy, a grave air settling about him like a dark cloud. "A heavy burden those men bear," he said ominously, "May the Goddess, wherever She has gone, help them carry it. For us all, I pray they hurry."
Gerald smoothed his white coat, his thin face back to its impassive self. He crossed the long expanse of the grand hall with terse steps, walking alongside the brilliant yellow carpet that ran the length of the room. Other servants watched him as he passed, still setting trays and goblets on the many small tables that dotted the room. Behind each was a small collection of finely carven chairs, sitting patiently against the wall. Despite the morning light, braziers lined the walls beside the chairs, small plumes of purple smoke rising from their flames. A light smell of incense hung about the room.
More stained windows lined the white walls, their sparkling pictures capturing the tale of the Creation. The golden eyes of the Goddess stared down at the steward as he approached the double doors at the end of the hall, two massive oaken blocks carved and accented with yet more swirling patterns of gold. Pulling his white gloves tighter against his hands, Gerald grasped the two shining handles, pulling the heavy doors easily on their hinges.
Sunlight streamed into the hall, blinding Gerald for a moment. The steward recovered quickly, bowing to the sillhouttes waiting on the marble entryway outside. "Welcome to Castle Sunkeep," he began, stepping to the side as he straightened, waving the heroes in with one gloved hand. "Please, make yourself comfortable in the grand hall. The king shall see you shortly."
OOC: So, that's that. Most of you probably recieved word through rumors, or perhaps by your local lord, but after some investigating, you learned of the king's call. You've all come to Sunkeep, by some means or another, and have arrived bright and early at the castle, as per the instructions. You were checked by guards at the gate of the castle complex, making sure you weren't just some random peasant, and were asked to give some proof of your abilities. Despite this, you have not had much chance to speak to your fellow heroes, as you have only just been escorted to the castle doors. As you enter, you'll most likely notice the refreshments (and comely servants, both male and female) and wait for the king's call. Until then, feel free to chat a bit; once everyone has posted their introductions I'll have Gerald open the door to the throne room. 
Let me thank everyone again for their patience and participation. We've already come far in making this, now the fun part can begin. Cheers to everyone, and happy RPing!
Edited by Darkom, Jul 21 2011, 12:47 PM.
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Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain
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Evilpigeon
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Jul 21 2011, 03:23 PM
Post #5
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Apprentice
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OOC: Yay finally up Also, incase it isn't obvious: "Celaia addressing Skoll in her head", Skoll's commentary anything else in speechmarks is said aloud.
Other things: Inquisitors like using the possessed as guards when they partake in activities that are considered undesireable because the possessed are unable to bring charges against them nor be brought forth as credible witnesses. They're also inconspicous as compared to normal church soldiers as priests and priestesses can be found almost anywhere.
IC:
It was a fine day, the sort of weather in which Sunkeep truly reflected the way it was described in the stories: Vast and prosperous, full of light and life. Celaia kept her hood well down, the milk white stone of the Castle battlements was almost too bright to look upon. She hated the city when it was like this; all heroic, fluttering banners and glistening tile roofs seen from far enough away that the grit and grime of real life was invisible behind the pageantry of the fairytale kingdom. She preferred things greyer. When the city was slick with rain and most people were indoors she could roam the streets with the dregs of society, others for whom the Goddess was a harsh mistress. There were stories told about her; the Ghost Priestess who appeared only in harshest storms, trying for all eternity to reach a patient who’d long ago passed away. The details of the story varied wildly, though Celaia’s favourite was the tale of the Priestess who’d left her home on a dark and stormy night and had simply gotten lost in the twisting streets of Sunkeep, the patient’s identity was unimportant and the priestess put her life at risk only by accident. It just seemed more believable than the woolly fantasies and steamy tales of lost love that people loved to wrap about that thin framework.
I prefer the one we overheard the other night, you know when were standing guard whilst our Lord Inquisitor ‘prayed to the goddess’ it’s times like that when I wished I’d left you looking human.
“Fuck you Skoll.” Celaia flinched visibly, half expecting punishment for her mental lapse.
That’s it? You know you look quite pretty, hidden under that snow white robe of yours, though most people would find it an odd choice for mid-summer…
It didn’t take much for Skoll to get under Celaia’s skin, he knew exactly how she’d been programmed to react by the inquisition.Any though or action that went against the creator’s teachings was liable for retribution, it made her all the more infuriated that such an offhand comment had made her break them herself. Still, Skoll had been with her as long as she could remember and had helped survive. Admittedly it was quite difficult for him to leave and helping Celaia, as his host being, definitely benefitted Skoll as well but his actions were appreciated despite alterior motives. He was also the only other being she ever really got time to talk with, most humans, especially her fellow church members viewed her as an abomination. Even Skoll was preferable to isolation, keeping him talking was probably at least part of the reason she reacted so well to his taunts.
Besides he was right; she was sweltering.
"Welcome to Castle Sunkeep," the voice began, Celaia started up, dislodging her hood. Through the tangle of others before her, she could just make out a thin servant in immaculate white, grandiosely waving them inside. "Please, make yourself comfortable in the grand hall. The king shall see you shortly."
The group of people before her began to shuffle slowly forwards and so Celaia followed suite, pressing into those infront, eager to be inside and out of the sunlight.
Look at his face, the pretentious little git is hating it; a bunch of mercenaries and sweaty peasants being treated like honoured guests? We’re probably shattering his tiny mind, turning his narrow sense of hierarchy upside down like this. I doubt even the king is this enamoured with social status.
“The king is the mouth of the Goddess, it’s only right that we should look up to him”
Now that’s your handler talking, I wonder what a member of the Church has to gain by enforcing their own superiority hmm? Though I have to give them credit, they follow a god of peace and still manage to justify training an abomination like you to kill people for them.
“You know if I’m an abomination then you are as well…”
Don’t be ridiculous, I’m a perfectly natural, purebred demon. You on the other hand are a mutated freak of nature as far as humans are concerned.
“You’re a runt, why else would you be inhabiting a human?”
Better a runt than a mongrel.
“Fuck you Skoll…”
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Whoever said nothing was impossible never tried to slam a revolving door
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Ambrose51
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Jul 21 2011, 09:20 PM
Post #6
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The Resident Horror Enthusiast
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Matthew stood patiently within the small crowd outside the doors to the castle's interior, an easy smile on his face. Inside, he was not so calm or happy. Being in this city brought back some... Unpleasant memories of his brief stay in Atlesia, before he had fled the capital city. While he knew Atlesia and Sunkeep were completely different in every way possible, it was still enough to unsettle him. The inner Atlesian in him, not to mention the training of his parents, was screaming at him to keep his guard up. Large cities were dangerous places, after all, and Atlesians were not well liked outside of Atlas. Not well liked at all.
He had been able to blow off a little steam when the guards had asked for a demonstration of his abilities, though. A small spell, just a little manipulation of his special substance, was all it had taken. It was a shame there had been no one else around to see it at the time, since he did like showing off his masterpiece.
Regardless, he was here now, and in a relatively safe place (The irony of a powerful Atlesian mage being safe in the presence of royalty was not lost on him. Others had been assassinated in such a manner before, after all.), so he had no reason to be paranoid. His smile simply became even more relaxed when a servant waved them inside. The man was rather formal looking and impassive, but it's not like Matthew would have expected anything else. If he were a servant of a royal palace, he wouldn't look forward to interacting with some of the faces in this crowd either.
He moved inside quickly, ahead of the rest, and took a place directly next to the entrance, on the left. He had no particular desire to interact with anyone just yet, and besides, he wouldn't want to get in anyone's way. He eyed some of the drinks available, but chose not to indulge. He hated alcohol, as would most mages, since a clouded mind would quickly lead to disaster if a spell needed to be cast. He did appreciate some of the many female servants, however, and he unconsciously smoothed out his brown coat, which was spotless and neat as always.
He was eyeing one rather pretty brunette servant in particular when his vision started to blur slightly. Fighting the urge to curse under his breath, he instead whispered a single line, "Let my body rest in your dominion..."
His eyes flashed for just a split-second with a small light, and the blurriness faded. With his vision once again perfect, his lips tilted into a half-smile, half-smirk, which he directed towards the brunette servant. She happened to glance at him just at that moment and blushed noticeably before looking away. Matthew just made a small humming sound in amusement as he truly began to let go of his early annoyances.
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But mostly? The assorted plans at play here would be going very, very wrong due to the actions of a no-name, no-count, utterly talentless Magus by the name of Shirou Emiya. He had no magic worth mentioning, no combat experience of note, and no plan for or knowledge of the War he was about to enter. He did, however, have one trait that had derailed a countless number of such grand, far-reaching schemes throughout history.
You see, he really, really wanted to be a hero. -(Best description of the start of a Fate novel ever.)
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Colonel Mustard
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Jul 22 2011, 12:00 AM
Post #7
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Lord of Facial Hair
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There had been something wrong for the last couple of weeks. Something deep in his clay had been nagging at him, pulling and tugging persistently, and the simple fact that he had no idea what it was meant that it was making Duhos Oregember all the more irritated. He disliked a great deal of things, but mysteries held one of the highest positions in such a ranking. A foe he could slay with his glaive or raw strength, a spell he could, at the very least, understand and a riddle he could work out sooner or later. But a mystery like this was not so simple. He liked simplicity. Simplicity was workable, it was manageable, and it was easy. This was none of those things.
And so, Duhos had listened. To the peasants that would not react to his presence with fear, awe or panic, he had paid heed to their rumours. Those nobles that would repay his mercenary work with information had their messages read by the immense man of clay. Those priests whose presence he could bear told him what little they knew. Gradually, over the weeks, the words that soon spread from every lip had reached Duhos, and he knew immediately what was at fault.
‘She is gone.’
The Goddess was gone from the world, abandoned it while the Old Foe marched upon the lands and spread his dread plagues. It was the answer that he had wanted, abolishing the mystery that had pestered at his mind for the past for weeks, and part of him was now wishing that he hadn’t had it solved.
Part of him wandered what he was to do with him. He was tempted, so very tempted, to take up his glaive, march against the hordes of the Dark One and pile their corpses high, but he knew that it would be a fruitless attempt; he was the First, mightiest of the Oregember, but even they had failed. He had failed, and his fruitless death would not be neought o atone. He would have to do better.
And so finally, the word had reached him. The master of the city of Sunkeep was calling a meeting, sending out a cry for heroes and warriors to halt the forces of the Dark One. More information had come; they were not to lead armies, no, they were to do so much more. They were to risk it all, go into the unknown so that they might find the Goddess’ place of exile, so that she might return.
Siren-like, redemption called to the old Golem.
#
The guards had been told to expect the unusual. They had not been told to expect a walking statue, however. Halberds in hand, their breastplates fixed and helmets placed firmly over their heads, they stood before the golem and felt completely and utterly lost.
“The call was sent for heroes, was it not?” Duhos Oregember rumbled with a voice like a mountain falling. “Here stands one. Let me pass.”
There was an uncomfortable look passed between the guards, before one of them said; “We were expecting more, you know, usual heroes.”
“A hero is not usual, he is merely a hero,” Duhos replied. “Now you will let me pass.”
“The king gave orders people had to prove themselves,” one of the other soldiers replied. “We can’t just be letting anyone in.”
Duhos leant towards the man, staring at him eye to eye. The soldier did well for a man looking into two smouldering embers gouged into crude clay pits, before Duhos rumbled; “I am not privy to your demands, mortal. Allow me passage and audience with you king.”
“You’ve got to prove yourself,” the soldier protested, dogmatic adherence to orders overriding survival instincts. “Those’re the rules.”
In reply, a fist swept out and knocked him to the ground. It was not swift, but it was inexorable, hard to dodge and even harder to stop, moving like a falling tree and knocking the wind from him. The second guard found himself unable to move before the thick blade of Duhos’ glaive was pressed against his throat.
“I will pass,” the golem said. “You will not attempt to stop me.”
They did not, and Duhos stepped through the threshold. He passed across the courtyard, drawing stares from servant, squire and knight alike, before stepping into the great hall.
“Welcome to Castle Sunkeep,” he heard someone say, some sort of servant. “Please, make yourself comfortable in the grand hall. The king shall see you shortly.”
Duhos eyed the display of foodstuff and drinks semi-interestedly, before disdaining them; he had no need of food. Instead, he decided it would be as good a time as any to wait and see who else here would be amongst these heroes.
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"Pillage, then burn."-Rule 1 of Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
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Duke Smugleaf
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Jul 22 2011, 01:02 AM
Post #8
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Celestial Princess
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The city of Sunkeep...It has been some time since my last visit here, almost fifty-four years, I think, and it has not changed a bit. It is still just as bright, shiny, and annoyingly pristine. I suppose it is not all bad. At least you can be sure that you are probably not going to die here. At least not right away. I suppose that is always a good thing.
Victoria hovered through the streets of the alabaster city having left her room at the inn rather later than she'd hoped due to some complications with not quite understanding what time it was. After cursing under her breath about how there should be more sundials around, she hurried off towards the castle getting peculiar looks from the townspeople on the way due to her levitation, though she was used to it by now and barely even noticed anymore. Luckily, the castle wasn't too far away, so she wouldn't be too late.
Arriving at the castle gates, she was stopped by two guards.
"Halt! If you be a hero here for the quest, you must...prove...your...uh...are...Are you floating?"
I don't have time for this, Victoria spoke telepathically before stepping through the folds of dimensional space and instantaneously appearing behind the guards.
Proceeding onward, Victoria seemed to arrive just in time as the doors were opening right as she hovered up to the crowd, though she missed whatever the servant had said, not that she particularly cared. As the people at the front of the group started pouring in, Victoria merely teleported past them all, landing in the center of the hall. Disappointed to see that the king was not already present to greet them, Victoria simply floated where she was, waiting for something to happen.
Looking around, she did notice the grand architecture of the interior of the castle, being thoroughly unimpressed. It seemed, in her opinion, to be nothing more than a slight improvement on the various other stone structures in the city, and the yellow carpet was quite unsightly. They could have at least gone with gold, but yellow was a very poor choice. The purple flames were a nice touch, though.
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quirk
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Jul 22 2011, 10:42 AM
Post #9
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Apprentice
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James was rather stunned by the situation he found himself in, as he stood outside the doors of the castle, waiting to enter. He had never expected to see the walls of Castle Sunkeep again, let alone one day step inside its walls. To be able to see inside this structure of civilization, famous for its power throughout the Golden Kingdoms, was inspiring. Even the city itself was an entirely different world from Sartheria, a place of military camps and tucked away farms. Perhaps we could build a city, He thought to himself, as the servant spoke and the doors of the castle opened.
He supposed his life had changed to match, though. For most his life, he'd been simply a pupil, or a son. But now, it seemed, the guards who had tested him in his arrival inside seemed to have a different word: hero. He had never particularly thought of such an idea, but he came to like the idea of it as he thought more about it. It wasn't arrogance if it was true, right?
He wandered away from such thoughts, however, when he was inside. Seeing the refreshments on the table, he decided to grab a drink, never being one to opt out of free hospitality. He stepped over to the table, but found himself looking between the different drinks with some confusion. After a moment, he opted for a glass of the reddish wine. Wine was still proper to drink in noble company, right? He shrugged to himself, pouring a small glass.
"Sir, I can handle that for you," one of the servants said, quickly walking over towards him.
"Um...sorry, I prefer to handle my own drinks," he said, slightly shaking the glass to emphasize he'd already poured it. "If you can show me where any biscuits might be, though, that would be great." The servant paused for only a second, before she showed him further down the same table. He smiled a bit. This might not be so bad, he thought.
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Half Tooth
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Jul 22 2011, 01:31 PM
Post #10
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Painter
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OOC: I've decided to do a test with Scylliria's speech. To get the full effect of it you should read it alloud to yourself because it sounds ridiculous. If it's too difficult to read I'll change it, or maybe start adding what she says in proper speech in brackets underneith. Also, when a hard consonant is missing from the middle of a word I've put an apostrophe.
IC: At least you can still see the sea. Scylliria thought, before quickly turning her attention to the city around her. She wanted to note everything down right then, the crowds, the hussle and bussle, the way merchants were trying to sell their wares, the jingle of coins. It was all so exciting, she began to head up towards the castle but she just couldn't help herself. Leaning back against a wall she pulled out her journal and made a quick sketch of the castle, she really wanted to add some colour but decided keeping the king waiting any longer would not be a good idea.
At Sunkeep castle gates she was stopped.
"Are you trying to get to the meeting of Heroes?"
Scylliria nodded.
"We need proof of skill."
She turned her head towards the sea momentarily before pulling her glaive from her back and performing a series of cartwheels and swirls whilst swinging her glaive about her in fast spinning circles.
"Wonderful... Go on through." The guard said with all the enthusiasm of a flat puffer fish. Scylliria smiled to herself, making a mental note to scribble down the attitudes of human guards in her book.
As she entered the grand hall she got the feeling she was late but she was still greeted warmly by a soft looking female servant.
"The King will be with us shortly, would you like some food or drink while you wait?"
Hesitating, Scylliria replied "I woul lie someing swee. We on't have mush swee foo in our ci'ies."
The servant stared at her blankly for a moment, looking like she was really trying not to laugh.
"This way madam." She gestured to a grand table laden with all kinds of colourful foods. Scylliria wasn't used to so many colours in food. The Tsydra ate little more than fish and vegetation from the sea. That was not the only thing that stood out to her at the table. Not only was there a floating woman, but there was also what appeared to be a living statue about 7 feet tall. Instantly she was overcome with the desire to start making notes about him, was he one of the people she’d be travelling with? She certainly hoped so, she wanted to sketch him. She wanted to study all of them actually. They looked like a pretty interesting collection of humans.
Scylliria sat down and picked at a piece of honey cake, the sugary flavour dancing delightfully on her tongue.
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James
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Jul 22 2011, 03:10 PM
Post #11
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Caffeinated
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Wayne examined the intimidating structure that was the Castle of Sunkeep, he could see why the Kings of the golden kingdoms had rallied there. Defendable, Strategic, and Grand it was undeniably a masterpiece of what humankind could accomplish. He let his travel robe flutter loose around him as he climbed steps. He noticed that more people were coming down the steps than walking up and he saw why when he reached the crest of the steps. Armed guards were turning away civilians letting only those who seemed most capable through. He slipped between the people wandering around and approached the guards,
“Hold, only champions are permitted entrance, and by the looks of y’a, you are no hero.”
“How certain of that are you?” when enquired sarcastically, using his arm to prush his robe aside revealing the rapier on his waist.
“We don’t care how shiny of a sword you –“ the guard began before looking down where his belt had been sliced and his pants were beginning to slide down.
He cursed as his partner began to snicker and Wayne walked past him humming a tune.
The was a man at a door, Quite a beast, what a boar. Waste of time, lost a belt, What a small hand he was dealt.
Wayne glanced around the hall, he had been many magnificent places, from the city of Atlesia to ruins forgotten by all but a select few, but Sunkeep hall rivalled many of those marvels. Even Atlesian architects would be challenged to replicate the awe inspiring work and he took a moment to appreciate its grandeur. Exhaling, he looked about the room looking for who else was probably there for the meeting of heros.
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Number of Poems Written in the name of roleplaying, count: 1
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Darkom
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Jul 25 2011, 03:27 PM
Post #12
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Philosophizer
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The Grand Hall of Castle Sunkeep; Mid-Morning, March 1st, 1066 AL
Gerald studied the "heroes" as they made their way into the grand hall with an air of growing amazement. A few seemed ordinary enough- two of the men seemed more like scholars than champions of humanity- but the rest made his usually impassive face go wide with awe. 'A Tsydra, here on dry land? And a fiery haired woman that's- that's floating?' Gerald had seen magic before- the city had an academy for mages, afterall- but never had he seen someone suddenly appear, hovering a few feet above the stone floor. Perhaps the most jaw-dropping sight of all, however, was the tower of living stone that had walked only a few feet in front of him. 'By the Goddess...'
In his years as the king's steward, Gerald had met royalty from across the Golden Kingdoms. He had entertained guests from as far north as Themis, he had kept a meeting of nobles from the Divided Isles from killing each other during a treaty banquet. But he had never seen the likes of these so called heroes. It was all he could do not to gape openly at the crowd that was now milling about within the grand hall.
'Come now,' he thought, composing himself as best he could, 'The king needs you.' Gerald shook his head, his face becoming a polite mask once more. The thin steward dusted off his spotless white coat, licking his lips nervously before walking towards the center of the grand hall, careful to give the animated pile of clay plenty of berth. 'What in All World is that thing, anyway?'
Gerald turned sharply, studying each of the assembled heroes in turn. None had said more than a few words, and even those were for the servants. It was obvious that they had no interest in talking amongst themselves. Truthfully, the steward did not blame them; he did not want to speak to any of the heroes either. Even the seemingly ordinary ones left him feeling uneasy; if they had been gathered in the same group as a walking boulder, what kind of powers must they have?
The steward shook his head again, making sure not to meet any of the champions' eyes. Instead, he focused his gaze on the magnificent windows, taking comfort in their familiar array of colors. His eyes eventually came to rest on the largest one, directly above the great double doors of the hall, depicting the Goddess in all her resplendent glory. A sorrowful frown tugged at his lips. 'Why did You leave us?' he wondered, not for the first time.
Gerald sighed, banishing the thought from his mind. He could do nothing to change it; those chosen few stood in an array around him. 'What a weight to have on their shoulders,' he thought, looking overtly at each. 'The fate of the world. I wonder if they know how serious this really is?'
The steward was brought out of his musings by a sudden voice behind him. "Sir," the voice began, little more than a whisper. Gerald turned to face it, smiling when he recognized one of the king's many messengers, a young boy just into his teens. "Sir, the king sent me. His majesty asks that the guests be brought in. He is ready to recieve them in the throne room." The boy waited anxiously, his eyes darting towards the assemblage further down the hall.
Gerald nodded, dismissing the boy with a wave of his gloved hand, a relieved smile on his face. His part was nearly over; soon this strange group would be the king's to worry about. He turned back to face the heroes, his back straight, all emotion drained from his face. The steward cleared his throat loudly, waiting until all eyes were on him before continuing. "The king shall now recieve you in his throne room. Please, follow me."
With that, the thin steward turned sharply around, beginning a deliberate walk towards the doors at the other end of the hall. Though not as large as the exterior doors, the oaken gateway to the throne room was far more elaborate. Swirling carvings, gilded in a dark gold, dominated the wood, creating a decorated outline of the sun bursting over a hilltop. Gerald marched down the long yellow carpet, the strands shining in the light, his steps clicking out a staccato that echoed throughout the hall. The other servants grew silent as he passed, retreating to the edges of the room as the procession made its way towards the double doors. Then, with an exaggerated air, the steward grasped the golden doorhandles, pressing forwards into the throne room.
The throne room of Castle Sunkeep was designed by the founder of the Church of the Light, the Holy King Michael the Pious, at the beginning of the Age of Light, over a thousand years ago. Always a man worthy of his title, the first ruler of Sunkeep built the room as a tribute to the Goddess Herself. While other kings draw attention to themselves with raised platforms and majestic thrones, the Lord of Sunkeep sits upon plain wood. The focus, instead, is upon the magnificent window built behind the throne, the sunburst sigil of the Goddess lit from behind by the light of dawn. Rays of light, golden in the dusty air, shine down upon the king seated below, reflecting off his crown and creating a faint halo behind his head.
The remainder of the room makes a complete circle, seven columns equally spaced along the exterior, each holding a statue of one of the founding figures of the Church. The first, King Michael, stares down resolutely from his marble perch, his hands folded in prayer before his stone robes. The rest, all of them kings, each famous in their own right, gaze down upon the throne, a constant reminder of the kingdom's glorious past. The seventh dias sits empty, an equally powerful reminder of the future, a challenge to each monarch to earn his place among his ancestors.
The current king, descended directly from the great men that lined the room, sat atop his intricately carven throne, straightening as the doors opened. His steward was the first one to enter, stepping to the side as soon as the door was open, revealing the king's first glimpse of the heroes he had prayed for. The tall man's first thought was of how few there were; barely over half a dozen, by his count, and they were meant to be the world's salvation? His confidence returned, however, as they stepped further into the room. Each one seemed more impressive than the last, each of them dangerous looking in their own right. And yet, was it enough?
'It will have to be,' the king thought, his face hardening. He gripped the wooden arms of his throne, worn smooth by generations of hands, taking comfort in the familiar feel of the grain. 'This is my part,' he closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself, 'I have done all that I can do to prepare them for the journey ahead; the rest is up to them.'
Finally, the king stood, his golden robed arms spread wide in welcome. "Greetings, my friends," he began warmly, stepping towards the gathering of heroes. "This is an auspicious day, one that will surely go down in the legends of mankind as the beginning of a noble journey. Today you set off on your quest to save the world." The king laughed- a rich, deep sound that echoed from the stone walls. "And yet the sun rises on it just like every other, and the world goes on. Make no mistake, though, every citizen of Sunkeep prays for your success, myself included."
"But I forget myself," the king smiled, finally reaching the group, "Sometimes this crown makes me forget my manners. I, as you well know, am King Richard, Lord of Sunkeep, Father of the Church of the Light. Yet today I am, for all my titles and servants, at your service, my brave champions. For, as I said, you are our saviors. You have gathered here today to answer my call, my message to heroes the world over, and for that alone I am forever in your debt."
The king's affable smile grew stern, his friendly air made stoic by a long, depressing sigh. He turned his tired eyes, before so cheery and light, to the faces of the heroes. "You have come because the Goddess has left us," he said solemnly. "You have come because the Lord of the Dark marches down from the north, and for all our armies we are powerless to stop him. And yet, I still hold hope for this world, because you have come." A faint smile lifted the king's beard, his eyes twinkling beneath thick brows. "I do not tell you this to dishearten you, my friends; no, quite the opposite. I state the gravity of our situation to motivate you. Yours' is the noblest, most important quest in the history of the Golden Kingdoms: a quest to save the world."
"There are many things I wish I could tell you," the king went on, pacing back towards his large wooden throne, "But even I do not know what you will face. Your journey shall take you east, past the jungles of the Medra, on a hunt for a god we have only rumors of. You shall stop first in Wellay, where Duke Chaucer will tell you more of the details, and from there you shall travel by Tsydrian boat along the southern coast." The king nodded at the one Sea Elf in their midst; he had expected the Tsydra would send a representative, though for her to be in Sunkeep was a surprise. "You shall be well supplied, and well recieved by every port along the way. Once you reach the Medra, however, not even I can say what you shall find."
The king stopped, an embarrassed smile wrinkling his features. "I apologize, I have a habit of long winded speeches. It comes with the job, I suppose." The tall man chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back, fingering the golden ring on his finger absently. "As I said, the Duke of Wellay will tell you more. For now, do you have any questions for me?"
OOC: Phew, my apologies once more for the long post. I wanted to fit enough of the king's speech in there, but it was growing quite lengthy. There are a few more things he needs to tell you, but you all know the gist of it already. This is just so your characters have a reason to know. Feel free to talk amonst yourselves or to the king, the important thing is just moving past these formalities so we can start the free form portion of the RP. 
Thanks everyone.
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Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain
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Ambrose51
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Jul 26 2011, 01:48 PM
Post #13
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The Resident Horror Enthusiast
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"The king shall now recieve you in his throne room. Please, follow me."
Matthew maintained his easy smile at the words of the servant. He had been ignoring the others in the room so far, content to observe, and while his expression hadn't changed on the outside, he had to admit that he was very impressed by the golem. The elf was a curiosity as well, since he had never seen one before, although the floating woman that had teleported in was equally as interesting, even if Matthew had to suppress the desire to roll his eyes at the nonchalant display of power. The others were nothing notable, or at least not outwardly. He'd be willing to bet, however, that all of them were unique in some way and worthy of observation. The golem was the most interesting so far, however, and he would have to make sure and ask it some questions at some point in the future. History had always been an interest of his, after all.
As the others began to follow after the servant that had spoken, Matthew followed them all, near the back of the group, this time. He made sure to wink at the servant girl he had been looking at before, but otherwise tried to remain as neutral as possible in his expression. A small smile, just enough to seem pleasant but not enough to attract attention. Though in this crowd, smiling at all might seem strange, he thought in annoyance.
He took his place in the throne room next to the others and listened patiently to what the King had to say. He had no particular like for the King of Sunkeep, or of royalty in general, for that matter, but kept to his polite expression nonetheless. There was a nagging in the back of his mind of just how easy it would be to kill the man on the spot, though, and he couldn't believe that the King could be so naive as to let this many obviously powerful people into his presence without a hoard of guards. Such a thing would never happen in Atlas. A very simple spell would be all that was necessary, and not even that for some of the people in the room.
He cut that train of thought immediately. He wasn't here to kill anyone, and after all, this wasn't Atlas. Things were different here, obviously. The only thing that might have even hinted at such less than pure ideas was a small, almost unnoticeable twitch to his eye.
After the King had finished speaking, Matthew waited a few moments to see if anyone else would speak up, and then decided to voice his own question, "There have been many... Rumors floating around about the war in the northern kingdoms. The people of my country do not normally pay much attention to the world outside of our borders, and so I must ask, since you would likely have a much better idea than any common citizen or mercenary. In full honesty, how long do we have, do you think, until the hordes of the Dark Lord overwhelm us?"
It was a simple enough question, but one that Matthew truly wished to know the answer to, as the officials in Atlas had preferred to pretend that nothing was happening at all.
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But mostly? The assorted plans at play here would be going very, very wrong due to the actions of a no-name, no-count, utterly talentless Magus by the name of Shirou Emiya. He had no magic worth mentioning, no combat experience of note, and no plan for or knowledge of the War he was about to enter. He did, however, have one trait that had derailed a countless number of such grand, far-reaching schemes throughout history.
You see, he really, really wanted to be a hero. -(Best description of the start of a Fate novel ever.)
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Half Tooth
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Jul 26 2011, 08:49 PM
Post #14
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Painter
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"The king shall now recieve you in his throne room. Please, follow me."
Scylliria slammed her notebook shut, she'd been making observations fn the food served, the table decoration, the architecture, everything around her was fascinating. But she turned her mind away from her fascinations and towards the King.
As she headed into the thrown room she was reminded of her reason for undertaking this leviathan of a task. As soon as she had felt her ancestor's leave the ocean she had headed for their capital underwater city of Urio and it seemed she was not the only one. All Tsydra that had been in the water had done exactly the same thing, headed to Urio to voice their confusion and anxieties. Where had they gone and why? Why would they leave, they had been there for thousands of years what had suddenly changed? The sea had become a darker place, where it had once felt like home it now felt like a void.
Then word from the mainland had come that the Goddess of Light had left their world, which meant the Dark Lord could do what he willed. Which left her wondering, did her ancestor's leave with the Goddess? Or did the Dark Lord take them for his own? Whatever the reason she had to return them to the sea.
The King seemed a nice enough person, tired but wise to the ways of the world, much like her many of her own race. She had a question though:
"Are there any humans that remember the point where the Goddess left us? And what was it like?"
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Colonel Mustard
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Jul 26 2011, 11:56 PM
Post #15
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Lord of Facial Hair
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He was quietly impressed by what he saw.
Most of the people before him were not particularly prepossessing physically, but there were a few who caught his eyes; the floating girl covered in swirling tattoos, and the Tsydra that had stolen a few furtive glimpses at him. There were others, though; he could feel power in the blonde haired, frail looking young man, while the girl who stood at the edge of the room with a slightly uncomfortable look on her face was…there was something strange about her, something he could feel in it his clay. He had no idea what it was, even with his innately magical nature, and instead he resolved to keep his eye on her.
“The king shall now receive you in his throne room. Please, follow me.”
The words came from the same steward who had greeted them, who proceeded to lead Duhos and the others into the throne room. He looked over the room briefly, before deciding that it did not compare with the grand finery of old Disolthrem. No matter.
He listened to what the king had to say with some interest; much of it he already knew, and while he was glad that there was confirmation, real, solid confirmation that he might find the Goddess. When the king asked for questions, he had none; he felt keen to get going, to track Her down as soon as possible.
The Sea Elf spoke, however, in her strange tongue; “Are there any humans that remember the point where the Goddess left us? And what was it like?”
“I may answer that question,” he rumbled. “Though I suspect that I do not qualify as human. Not too long ago, I felt a strange feeling in my clay, one of emptiness and loss. I knew not what it was, and for some time I sought answers to the question. Eventually, I found it was the loss of the Goddess; she was invoked in my creation, thus I have a strong link to her, and she has never been gone in such a way, in all my thousands of years. There was something amiss for some time, though I did not know what it was.”
He chuckled deeply.
“But I ramble,” he said. “I would say two months, perhaps two and a half.
OOC: This a reasonable timeframe? Or shall I edit it to make it more workable with the story?
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"Pillage, then burn."-Rule 1 of Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
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Darkom
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Jul 28 2011, 02:31 PM
Post #16
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Philosophizer
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The Throne Room of Castle Sunkeep; Mid-Morning, March 1st, 1066 AL
The assemblage of heroes was a long time in responding to the king. He looked to each of them twice before one finally spoke; an unassuming blonde man, near the back of the group. 'An Atlesian, by the looks of him,' the king thought, noting the man's posture and accent more than his features. He seemed honest enough, for an Atlesian, but his question was one of complete gravity.
"There have been many... Rumors floating around about the war in the northern kingdoms. The people of my country do not normally pay much attention to the world outside of our borders, and so I must ask, since you would likely have a much better idea than any common citizen or mercenary. In full honesty, how long do we have, do you think, until the hordes of the Dark Lord overwhelm us?"
The king sighed, his face slacking into an expression of complete exhaustion. The young man had asked the very question that had weighed on the king's mind every day since the Goddess left. How long, indeed?
"No, your rulers would not have told you, would they? Well, it is a question in the heart of every man in the Golden Kingdoms, and is of special concern to you, considering your mission. I am afraid to say, however, that despite our best efforts, we cannot say for certain." The king's face was stern, solemn, but his eyes were grim. "The armies of our Enemy grow stronger by the day, while we are weakened by disease and hunger. Nearly every soldier in the Golden Kingdoms has begun the journey to Themis, and yet we still think it will not be enough to stop Him."
The king stepped closer to the Atlesian. He wanted to berate the man- Atlas was one of the few kingdoms that sent no help- but he could not. One man could not be held responsible for the crimes of a country, afterall. His tone remained even, but the king's mouth formed a hard line as he continued. "All we can do is buy more time. It is you- all of you- that hold our true hope. The priests and scholars say we may have less than a year before the Darkness breaks through, and drowns the world in blood. That is why you must hurry." The king finished ominously, knowing full well how grim he sounded. These were grim times, afterall.
Richard returned to the fore of the group, watching the heroes, praying that his words would give resolve, not fright. For a moment all was silent, each considering the weight behind the king's words. Then, much to the king's surprise, the lone Tsydra of the group spoke out, her words garbled but understandable. "Are there any humans that remember the point where the Goddess left us? And what was it like?"
The king winced; he remembered the day all too well. He had been in the castle's church at the time, praying by himself. The everpresent light at the front of the room, a golden globe hovering above the altar, had flickered, like a candle sputtering in the breeze. Richard had watched, horrified, as the magical globe dropped, its light extinguished forever, and broke on the altar. The priests had run out, shouting; many had begun to weep before the king could discover the cause of their distress. The power, the light that all of them held had vanished. The comforting voice that always whispered in their ear was gone, silenced. The Goddess, they claimed, was gone.
Richard was shaken from his memories as another member of the party spoke. A deep, rumbling voice; distant, as if heard from the bowels of a cave. The creature made of stone could indeed talk. “I may answer that question,” he began, capturing the room's attention immediately. “Though I suspect that I do not qualify as human. Not too long ago, I felt a strange feeling in my clay, one of emptiness and loss. I knew not what it was, and for some time I sought answers to the question. Eventually, I found it was the loss of the Goddess; she was invoked in my creation, thus I have a strong link to her, and she has never been gone in such a way, in all my thousands of years. There was something amiss for some time, though I did not know what it was.” A strange sound, like two boulders rubbing against one another, filled the chamber. The king was a moment in realizing it was the stone-man, laughing. “But I ramble,” he said. “I would say two months, perhaps two and a half.
The king could only nod, his eyes trained on the fiery pits gouged into the creature's face. "That..." he paused, fumbling for a moment, "Is correct. The priests say She left suddenly, like the tether between Her and this world had been cut. We do not yet know the full effects of this loss, though the most important one is obvious: the Lord of the Dark is loose. Beyond that, we have only rumors." Richard looked back to the Tsydra; he had heard of their loss as well. Though he did not understand their strange ways, he could appreciate what it must have felt like to lose touch with their strongest link to the past. "Your people say they have been affected as well, though I have not heard the details."
OOC: Alright, so, if you haven't replied to the king at all yet, I'd appreciate at least one post before we move on. Richard did give you his name, afterall. It is only polite to at least extend the same courtesy in return. Feel free to ask any other questions you have for the king.
Also, if you would like to hold a side conversation with another character, I'm sure they'd appreciate the incentive to make a post. The king won't mind, I'm certain.
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Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain
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James
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Jul 28 2011, 04:31 PM
Post #17
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Caffeinated
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“By us do you mean the world, or Atlas,” Wayne asked sarcastically of the well kept scholarly man; his voice lingering on Atlas with the emphasis you would give to a plague. “Atlas won’t mobilize so it will be the last country with defences,” Wayne added, his voice revealing his contempt towards his birth place, “if that helps the rest of us non-Atlesians feel better about imminent death.” His statement wasn’t a lie, Atlesian citizenship was offered to any the generals thought were useful, the runaway son of a noble was by no means useful and his citizenship had probably been stricken from the records. Having gotten the frustration out of his system he turned to the King,
“First let me thank your hospitality,” he said gesturing his arm wide towards the servants and decor, “and I’d agree with your clerics and advisors, I’ve heard many dark stories about evil gods and it never bodes well for us mere mortals”
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Number of Poems Written in the name of roleplaying, count: 1
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quirk
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Jul 29 2011, 01:31 AM
Post #18
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Apprentice
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James, having stayed quiet, looking around at those he found with him before the king. He was, quite honestly, awestruck. Elves, rock creatures, and a woman who could...float? He found his place here almost awkward, compared to those around him. However, he let that slip into the back of his mind, as he listened to the exchanges happening before him. Clearly, the king was a man troubled by the events which seized the world at this time. It showed in his face. The others were somewhat harder to read, though to be fair, a few were completely alien to him altogether.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Sir, I do have one question I would like to ask, if you'd be so kind as to answer," he said, looking up towards the king. "What prompts us to search towards the east for the goddess in the first place? I know you said that the Duke shall have more to tell us, but be honest, if you can. Do we have a location in mind? Or is this a blind search?"
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Half Tooth
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Jul 29 2011, 05:36 AM
Post #19
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Painter
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Scylliria listened solemly to the King and the Golem's answer. "That is sad." She replied simply. Although her tone hadn't really changed a chill emantaed from her. "We are keen to bring back our ancestors." The questions being asked here very very big, much like the discussions that had taken place back in Urio, although everyone had been worried there had been little panicing. The Tsydra had voiced their opinions and questions as everyone was doing now.... with a resigned acceptance but also with some determination.
At the question of their mission being a blind search, she watched the king expectantly. This was why she had been sent, although she really didn't want to admit it to anyone here, she needed the help of humans. Her people knew little about the gods, they cared only about their ancestors and the sea.
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Ambrose51
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Jul 30 2011, 11:28 AM
Post #20
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The Resident Horror Enthusiast
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Matthew's thin smile wavered a bit at the King's words. Less than a year? Things were terrible indeed if the combined might of most of All-World couldn't hold back the tides of darkness. He was suddenly very glad that he had not gone in that direction to aid instead. No savior would come forth there, no miracle. Only death. At the very least their current journey had a ghost of a chance of succeeding, even if they had no idea of where they were truly going. And even if they didn't succeed, a death out in the unknown would probably be kinder than whatever would happen to the people of All-World once the armies of the Golden Kingdoms failed. The fate of the world really does rest in us, then... Truly, I'm filled with confidence already, the Atlesian thought, looking around at the figures that surrounded him.
“By us do you mean the world, or Atlas? Atlas won’t mobilize so it will be the last country with defenses, if that helps the rest of us non-Atlesians feel better about imminent death.”
Matthew winced at the man's tone, and waiting for him to finish speaking to the King before he even began formulating a response.
"Atlas is merely looking out for its own best interests, as it always does. Surely you didn't think they would have any other response?" the scholarly man asked of his fellow Atlesian. He could tell the man was from there, given the accent. It was rather unique among the kingdoms of All-World, after all.
"Well, one would think that Atlas would be willing to help when the world is ending. There's nothing left to conquer if everyone is dead, after all," the bard responded, his tone scathing in its criticism of his home country.
Matthew truly had nothing left to say to that. At the very least, however, the people around him would be convinced that he didn't hold the same opinion as those that ruled Atlas. He wouldn't have come here in the first place, if that had been the case.
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But mostly? The assorted plans at play here would be going very, very wrong due to the actions of a no-name, no-count, utterly talentless Magus by the name of Shirou Emiya. He had no magic worth mentioning, no combat experience of note, and no plan for or knowledge of the War he was about to enter. He did, however, have one trait that had derailed a countless number of such grand, far-reaching schemes throughout history.
You see, he really, really wanted to be a hero. -(Best description of the start of a Fate novel ever.)
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