Post all OOC discussion and any other related information here for Scrolls of Iria. Character Sheets Mordin and Thomas: Click Here James: Click Here Malefius: Click Here Falcor: Click Here Tyson: Click Here Nikko: Click Here Lydia: Click Here Serena: Click Here Raven: Click Here Marcus: Click Here Key: Click Here Annette: Click Here Isen: Click Here The History of Hanavar The Fateful Quest Commander Bane and Malefius approached Isen a few months back to help assist with a disturbance. One of The Three Rings cities, Boradith, had been complaining about strange creatures roaming the border between itself and Iria. Out of the three cities, Boradith resides closest to the East and to the ancient land of Iria, and a long line of mountains known as the Boradith Peaks act as a wall between. Bane, Malefius and Isen were to inspect a strange red beacon that had appeared at the top of one of these peaks, and investigate whether it was the cause of the local wildlife acting strangely. Isen took some convincing, unsure about travelling through the large human cities, but Malefius urged him for assistance, quoting his fantastic tracking skills and prowess with a bow. Bane was also eager for the elf to come, pointing out the advantages of his heightened senses and fast reactions. So after much deliberation, they travelled together towards Darn and then across to Borodith, and finally made their way to the border, where beautiful green mountains soared up to the sky. And on top of it they could see the red beacon, glaringly bright in both day and night. They carefully navigated their way through the lower marshlands and up to the woods where they made camp for the first night. But they were given little time to rest, as ordinary creatures became aggravated by their presence and attacked their tents and fire. The strangest part were the creatures eyes, gooey pupils of crimson staring wickedly. Deers, bucks, owls and rabbits charged at them in the night, but they would not raise their hand at the creatures; they were wild, but they were still animals. Journeying up the mountain brought more dangers. The greenery had gone, replaced by a sloping wasteland of rock and bone, accompanied by red eyed vultures trying to peck at them. Luckily a cave was carved into the side of the mountainside, and they bolted inside to save themselves from the vicious beaks in the sky. Isen was the first to notice it. The wailing echoing from within and a pale glow of red seeping around the cavern, and as they moved further in the noise grew louder and the colours grew stronger. The tunnel spiralled upwards, higher and higher into the peak and opened up into a catacomb. They could see strange engravings all along the marble bricked walls, carved out and filled with crimson dragonstone. The crystals lined the walls, and above them rows of stone dragon heads jutted out from the side, meeting in the middle by their scaled noses. Every single one of them had eyes of crystalised dragonstone, staring intently as Malefius, Bane and Isen passed down the hall. They followed the wailing down the corridor, the high pitched screech tearing at their ears, until finally they found the grand hall. A huge red fire burned brightly at the top of a marble platform, pouring out of the mountain into the night sky. A woman dressed in black stood at the summit of the platform, shrieking her ritual into a stone coffin. Her hair was black and wild, her face gaunt and her skin incredibly pale. When the three men stood in the archway she squealed in delight, screaming down at the trio, “The chosen one has returned!” They charged at her, Malefius firing arcane bolts, Isen curving his arrows and Bane swinging his bastard sword fiercely. In her confusion she did not defend herself, and she fell to Bane’s sword, piercing through her stomach. Her eyes went wide and they all watched as her life seeped away. Then Malefius attended to the crimson fire and used his magic to extinguish the flame. Isen and Bane approached the coffin to find a rotting skeleton inside, with the most glorious set of armour they had ever seen. Finely crafted dragonsteel, black as night, yet veiled with the softest tinge of red. Breatplate, gauntlets, greaves, boots and ring all sat proudly on the corpse, while a dragonsteel longsword slotted neatly to its side. Bane was entranced by the set and slowly went to take the weapon, only to have a worried Isen snatch at his wrist. “Touch me again and I’ll take that hand from you, you pointy eared scum!” Bane growled darkly, throwing the elf to the floor with his brute strength. Malefius turned to see Bane helping himself to coffin and the old man roared with all his might, knocking Bane on the head with his staff and pulling the dazed warrior away. When Bane came to both Malefius and Isen stood over him, and he felt so ashamed. He could not understand his actions and quickly apologised to the elf, unable to explain what had come over him. His temper had been so out of character for someone as honourable and just as Commander Bane, Grand General of the Armies of the North, and in the end Isen accepted the apology. So, while Bane kept his distance, the old mage and the elf closed up the stone coffin, ready to be transported to the Highguard crypts. Yet neither of them noticed the dragonsteel ring missing from inside, now hidden away in the Commander’s satchel. The Sun Elves With regards to the Sun Elves they are pale and fair skinned, usually quite skinny and tall. Most of them have blonde or white hair to accompany their skin colour, however there have been some exceptions. In their time of prominence dark haired sun elves were looked down upon, with many believing it was an omen for darkness and evil, so they were generally shunned by there own people. Now in this day and age it makes it worse for them, because not only are dark haired elves treated poorly by humans, but they are also seen as low by their own race too. In the past the elves were a smart and ambitious race, harnessing the fury of the sun to power their city. Every night Morolith was lit up like a beacon on the western coast of Hanavar, a shining star in the middle of the deep blue. The Drow were especially jealous of their knowledge, watching this second sun from their primitive jungle cities of Sin'Das Rei. And rightly so, Morolith was a marvel to behold, a city of gold through night and day. And the Sun Elves knew it as well. They all believed themselves the superior race and acted incredibly snooty towards the Drow, causing relations to crumble further. But for all their posturing and bravado, the city was never going to last. The Sun Elves, while logical thinkers, were also extremely superstitious, with a history of rich culture and tradition. They would pray to the sun for its bountiful gifts and base a large amount of their judgement on its daily patterns. And though it was never recorded, many of the elves in the present day believe that it was the sun that destroyed Morolith, for it became angry at their greed, and for trying to steal its power away. But back when the city had been destroyed the survivors turned to Sin'Das Rei, where the Drow merely laughed at them, sent them away and then hunted them down for 'sport'. Those that survived the horrible culling of Sun Elves found their way through the jungles of Sin'Das Rei to the luscious green city of Darn. The humans there accepted them in, and for a time they were treated with honour after the troubles of recent years. But slowly as the Sun Elves began to prosper once more they became expensive to maintain, and as each generation of Darn royalty came through, they cast law after law on the race to cut down on costs. Eventually they were banned from the inner city, living in the outside fields of Darn. For a time the Darn government left them alone, now able to maintain the city for both groups. But then one day, Lord Baston Remus Hargreaves came into power. This particular line of royalty was a gluttonous and wrecked pig, his coin pockets as large as his rotund belly. He saw an opportunity to expand his wealth and took it, creating odd taxes all over the city. External City Plot Licences, Land Preservation Taxes, Nature Security Protection Fees... he was relentless, crippling the entire Sun Elf community. And they tried to leave but Hargreaves used his soldiers to bully them into staying. And they have lived in squalor ever since. The Tragedy of Nv’Idyor In its time Nv'Idyor was a bustling hub of commerce, trading minerals and items of craft from the grand tower in the centre. The tower, known then as Kniv, soared up to the ceiling of the mountain and inside bankers would count coins from the top half, while merchants would trade at market in the bottom. The markets were so busy that they would sprawl out of the tower doors and onto the city streets. And while the money makers traded in the city, the miners dug below, bringing out more and more precious onyx every single day from them to sell. As time passed, a small human hamlet known as Highguard spawned on the southern face of the mountain and the dwarves were only too eager to reveal themselves, their eyes glinting with the thought of more gold. Not only did this boost Nv’Idyor’s economy but it also allowed Highguard to grow at a frightening pace, much to delight of the dwarves. However, there was trouble brewing below. Many of the mining supervisors had expressed concern with the cavern’s stability underneath Nv’Idyor, worried that the natural foundations were being removed. Yet the senior investors waved them away, arguing their reason and bribing them to keep quiet. They only cared to line their pockets and pillage every bit of value from this mountain of money. It didn’t happen a year after. Nor did it happen five years later, or even ten. But seventeen years after the warnings, houses on the outskirts of Nv’Idyor began to collapse through the ground and miners became frequently and fatally caved in. The downfall took time, but the city slowly eroded from the edges inwards and eventually the city was flagged as too hazardous, forcing the Dwarves to evacuate. It is a bitter subject between the factions with common dwarves blaming the investors, while bison (noble) dwarves accused the miners of cowardice and greed. So now the city lies in ruins, each year more structures falling away. Only a half toppled Kniv and a handful of ancient government buildings remain, with the stone foundations like an eaten apple core. The architecture of these buildings are rigid, to mirror the dwarves’ hardened spirits and stoutness. Each building is created from bricks of onyx rather than raw stone, providing an organised look and feel. While the place was evacuated, it wasn’t in a hurry so hardly anything has been left behind. The buildings around the central tower of Kniv are government buildings which I previously mentioned. However I would prefer that you guys use your imagination for which type of buildings are in the area. But from a design perspective, housing structures would be fairly small, with doors awkwardly sized for humans, whereas the government buildings would be lofty and grand, in an attempt to show off their greatness as a race. The Three Rings Before The Three Rings The Three Rings were born from the ancient human kingdom of Malak, situated in the very centre of Hanavar and host to what historians would call ‘The Rebellion of the People’, where three brothers commanded an army thirty thousand strong against the city’s leader and villainous high priest Umota-Eb. The city of Malak itself had come to be through the amalgamation of many grand tribes, working together to create a little slice of home. It was a defining moment for humanity, the roaming savages of old coming together to find a permanent place amongst the land. The simplest form of diplomacy was shown as each clan chief would represent their people around the great fire in the centre of Malak, to seek help and argue disagreements. Sadly, most often and not the whole charade would turn into bloodshed, with clans murdering each other and pacts easily broken by the change of the wind. That was until Umota arrived. A man of small stature, yet he was sharp as a knife and as cunning too. He arrived in the city no more than a common traveller, working his way into the one of the weaker tribes known as Eb. But Umota had chosen wisely, for this tribe was led by the largest and most ferocious savage in the land. He was called Mufa and legends say he towered above trees and could lift boulders with a finger. If it were not for his stupidity, he could have taken Malak single handedly. So what did Umota do when faced with the most fearsome human the early world had ever seen? He challenged him of course. Shortly after a grand ritual meal Umota called the chieftain out in front of all the other tribes. Many laughed and Umota was not taken seriously at first, but all that changed when he plunged his dagger deep into Mufa’s wife. Enraged, Mufa quickly accepted the challenge and readied his giant axe to dispatch the puny human. It was so large that he struggled to lift it over his head barely managing to get it passed his shoulder, and that is when Umota struck. The small man charged at his abdomen, thrusting his dagger in over and over and over. The mobs laughter turned to silence as Mufa shuddered onto the floor, his eyes wide and his stare to the heavens, gone forever from this world. Fear spread like wildfire as they watched the little demon raise his dagger in the air with his face drenched in blood, smiling manically at his proud work. How could Umota possibly defeat Mufa? The chieftains called it witchcraft, but he just called it poisoned rice. So Eb had a new leader now. And he used his new found fear factor to mould his men, forcing them to accept his discipline and order. Through this they became a powerful unit, perfecting their crafts to turn leather bound savages into iron clad war machines. Instead of tying together splintered axes they forged swords of steel. Instead of swinging widely they attacked with purpose and venom. And instead of squabbling like tribesman they stood silent in rows, waiting forever until their master commanded. These were the first soldiers of men and they were a terrifying sight to behold. This was the time for Umota to exact his master plan. Or as he was now known: High Priest Umota-Eb, Commander of the Silver Army, Master of Blood and Ruler of Men, Bastion of War and the True Chieftain of Malak. At the next ritual meal, his army of five hundred went against the might of all ten thousand angry savages that laid claim to Malak. They all fought around the grand fire and smoke and blood bellowed into the air. After the dust had settled the Silver Army stood, not a single man missing from their ranks. Malak was finally Umota-Eb’s. Strangely, the city began to prosper shortly after the start of his reign. The commoners vowed to serve in fear, bowing to their new master. He forced them to toil in the mines and the fields and the waters, digging for ore, farming the crops and fishing for salmon. From this, humanity’s prominence rose and soon the likes of the dwarves and the drow came to trade, offering gold for the iron they found. The economy boomed but humanity was still a slave under its own master, and eventually Umota-Eb’s ego became so great that he tasked them with the audacious project of building a golden palace straight up to the heavens. He had grown mad with power. And so cruel too. The Silver Army were merciless against the slaves, beating them into submission if they dared step out of line. The spiral of gold would be built, Umota-Eb was sure of it. However he never counted on four of his own growing a conscience. Four brothers, bound not by blood, but by steel. They were known as Raith, Samus, Terog and Picco. You see Umota-Eb was very proud of his warriors and so he taught them like the sons he never had, hoping to pick out a potential successor. He chose the four final candidates. For years they studied with him to become learned scholars of Umota-Eb’s teachings, from politics to warfare and everything else in between. One particular lesson was a defining moment, where Umota-Eb showed them how he used fear and suffering to keep his slaves in check, showing them the misery and squalor some humans were actually living in. The four of them were incredibly shocked at what they saw and ashamed at how blind they had been. They vowed then and there to murder their leader in cold blood. Strangely the next day Umota-Eb chose Picco as his heir. He took him aside one to one to discuss the next step in his master plan and that is when Picco decided to strike. But Umota-Eb was far too clever. He had planned for this. Expecting the attack, the dreaded high priest struck faster, sinking his dagger in the lad, who had barely pulled his blade out of the sheath. Once he had killed Picco, Umota-Eb turned to the other three. He was unsure whether they had planned to turn on him too but rather than risk it he decided to be rid of them. Yet he had grown too close and because he could not be certain of their betrayal, he could not bring himself to kill them. So he banished them instead. They were told to never step foot in the golden palace, known as Tower Umota, and join the slaves in squalor. It seemed that this would be Umota-Eb’s fatal mistake. For the three brothers, bound by steel and slavery did not rest. In the day they would work as slaves but under the cover of night they shared their priceless knowledge with hundreds of other brothers and sisters, who then shared the same words with others. It took years to coordinate the teachings in secret and train the slaves in combat, but Raith, Samus and Terog had built a grand army right under the nose of Umota-Eb. And he had become very suspicious. Every turn he saw descent and frequent showings of defiance from the slaves. They no longer lived in fear. And slowly, he became the one that was paranoid, closing off sections of the city, locking himself in Tower Umota and banishing non-humans from the city. This worked greatly to Raith, Samus and Terog’s advantage, contacting the dwarves and drow that could no longer trade at Malak, setting up marketplaces with them a few miles from the city. First they just traded wares and supplies but eventually an alliance was formed between the slaves, drow and dwarves, in the promise that they would destroy the tyrant and his home, and build new human cities to boost all economies in Hanavar. They all agreed and planned for the final grand attack on Malak and Umota-Eb. It would truly be a Rebellion of the People. The stage was set. Thirty thousand angry and well trained slaves stood outside of Malak, with the mighty Silver Army opposite staring them dead in the eye. All fifty thousand of them. But the Silver Army never expected ten thousand drow elves and ten thousand dwaves to step up on the horizon next to the slaves. Everyone charged. Steel clashed together. Man fought against fellow man. Blood was spilt. Bodies scattered the floor. In the dawn of the third day Raith, Samus and Terog all rose from the darkness. To call it a victory would be terribly ghastly, for over a hundred thousand soldiers lost their lives: human, drow, dwarven. It is said that only seven hundred slaves survived, while the Silver Army were dead to the last man. The dwarves and drow walked away with only a few thousand each. The battle may have over but the war wasn’t done. Not yet. On their own the three brothers travelled to Tower Umota and fought their way to the tallest point; a pillared open balcony so high that you could see all of Hanavar, from North to South, from East to West. And there they found Umota-Eb cackling madly under the howl of the wind. The old man darted at them feebly with daggers in hand, jabbing at them like a cornered animal. Terog, the strongest and most brutal of the three grabbed Umota-Eb by the throat as he tried to dodge around, and lifted the frail and sickly man off the floor while he choked. Without a word Terog marched to the blustery edge, holding the high priest over by the throat and simply dropped him. Together they watched him fall, lower and lower, listening as his scream slowly faded away. It took forever for Umota-Eb to reach the ground and the trio were so high up that eventually they could not see him. But the slaves below could; they poked his mangled body with their steel as he lay shattered on the floor, a sickly mush of body parts and bones splintered and torn to pieces. Finally, they were free. A feeling the three of them had never had. Yes, they were once part of the Silver Army once, but that wasn’t true freedom. Standing on the top of the golden monolith, gazing at all of Hanavar and its beauty – that was freedom. Raith, Samus and Terog stayed up there for a while deciding what they would do and where they would go. To honour the agreement with the drow and dwarves they decided to split the remaining humans and build three new cities away from Malak. They looked to the horizon and saw three perfect spots, each fitting with what they saw as their paradise. Raith headed towards the north western forests of the Twitching Woods; Samus made his way east to the green mountains that bordered Iria, finding a series of grand waterfalls; and Terog travelled south west where the barren wastelands lay close to the Marshes of Moar. But not before all the humans spent days at the base of Tower Umota to cut down and destroy the old tyrant’s legacy. With battering rams they chipped away at the bottom of the gold and eventually the gigantic tower fell. The great wealth on display was enough to make anyone’s mouth water but the three brothers vowed that no one would ever touch the tower again, cursing it for all eternity. They took all food and supplies that Malak had to offer and then burned the city to the ground, in the hope that it would erase the scar left on humanity. The remains of the Malak are still there, decrepit and haunting, and in its thousands of years as a ruin only a handful of brave adventurers have ever travelled there, with fewer still returning. * * * Though Umota-Eb was a vile and evil man, most historians believe that his discipline and teachings had a great influence on the world today and his work shaped mankind, steering it towards a stronger future. Darn Raith took his share of humans and travelled North West to the Twitching Woods. For weeks they travelled through the forest, hunting and surviving as they went, with Raith determined to find the perfect spot. The deeper they went into the woods, the darker and thicker it became and the trees slowly closed in on the settlers, until they had gone so deep that they came face to face with a wall of roots and trunks. It was white Elderwood, all twisted together to form an impenetrable barrier that any axe or sword would struggle against. They were at a dead end in the overgrown darkness of the Twitching Woods and many of them began to fear for their life, with no escape and no idea of the kind of creatures that lived so deep in the woods. However Raith was unfazed. He pushed on, climbing the impenetrable trees to the very top. It took him days to reach it, the trunks almost moving and sabotaging his efforts, but his determination and perseverance was rewarded. For on the other side was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. Shallow hills of luminous green rolling away in every direction, carrying on for miles with the white Elderwood wall bordering it. The endless fields were open wide to the sun’s rays, its gorgeous warmth filling Raith’s heart and reflecting in a gentle stream that split the land. This was the place, he knew, but creating a path to it would be difficult. He fell with joy back to the others to tell them the wonderful news. They were sceptical at first, calling him mad and scolding him for lying to them. But when a few others made the journey above the trees they realised the magic just beyond the wall. And so they camped for weeks and while the men dug and cut through the stubborn Elderwood, the women hunted and cooked to keep them all surviving. The trunks seemed to have a mind of their own, dropping on top of some of the workers, tripping them up from time to time and even swinging at them. Most were worried about this. They felt the wood might be cursed but Raith saw it as potential, a chance for his city to have impassable walls that defended themselves. There was definitely something to them though. A magic of some sort. Though Raith had decided to create a gate into the utopia, he made sure that once they had broken through they would never cut into the Elderwood wall ever again. And broke through they did. Those that had not climbed the tree were instantly dazzled by the immense mecca of land that lay sprawling before them and they could only thank Raith for making them persevere. The city was named Darn, after one of the poorest areas of squalor back in the old land of Malak, where most slaves that had died were thrown into mass graves. Raith had chosen this name to honour them and to remember those that had been killed so they could be free. The settlers quickly got to work building farms from white Elderwood (not from the wall) and fishing from the long crystal blue stream. It didn’t take long for Darn to grow, as the fish came in abundance and the crops grow to glorious heights and to this day Darn is still the main source of food for the entire realm. A top the largest hill Raith created a castle, where other business could be done away from the toil of the farms. It was again created from white Elderwood, a type of wood that was actually found to be inflammable, much to the delight of Raith. The castle began to prosper as people from all over the realm came to trade and soon the castle had grown into a village, then a town and now in the present day a bustling city. While it pales in comparison to Terog for population, it boasts the strongest economy of all three cities, its main produce its crops. There are also a vast amount of shops that surround the castle, such as fletchers, blacksmiths, clothiers, shoemakers and more, equally adding to the profitability of Darn. Terog Terog decided to go South West with his settlers, hoping to find a harsh land that would test him and his people. The other travellers knew what they were in for though, they knew the type of man Terog was. That was why they followed him, for out of the three brothers he had been the strongest figure, the one that would lead them through the darkness and back into the light. They found a spot in the middle of a dry and thirsty salt flat, the ground cracked like broken glass. Terog could only smile at what he had found and began construction of the city, aptly named after himself. Forcing harsh labour on his settlers they mined the single mountain nearby, creating large bricks of sandstone to build with. However, rather than build multiple buildings Terog was more content with having one communal area that everyone lived in. The base of this building was huge, enough to fit shared bedrooms, a marketplace, a throne room, kitchens, blacksmith shop and more, all with the massive fire pit in the middle which was seen as the dining area. But not content with it, Terog demanded another layer for his grand city and so the residents built on top of the foundations. More kitchens and bedrooms were put in for the rapidly growing population, plus a school and a barracks. The middle was kept empty though so that all on the second floor could see the grand fire pit, which in time became the symbol of Terog. But still, the people’s great leader was not content and year after year he demanded more layers for Terog, building it higher and higher until the whole place resembled a tower, and a wide one too. Some frowned upon his methods, believing that he was imitating Umota-Eb by having a tower but he merely laughed at them, citing that it was a practical build with no wasted space on Hanavar and a clear view of all enemies in any direction. When Terog the man died, the city was a mile wide in every direction and twenty stories high with every floor able to stare down the middle in the grand fire pit. His funeral was held in there and his body was cremated on top of the fire so that his ashes and smoke would rise up through all his glorious work. Now, in the present day, Terog is easily a hundred levels tall with a population of over two hundred thousand humans, as well as a large community of dwarves. The people of Terog felt that dwarves were a hard and strong race, admiring their stalwartness and bravery. However the struggles the dwarves had recently endured had not gone unnoticed and Terog decided to offer them a permanent home. Many accepted the offer, but most continued on their endless exploration together. Unlike the sun elf situation in Darn, dwarves are treated completely equal – in fact some of them have been advisors to the Emperor to Terog in the last one hundred years. Though these choice is not done by a vote. Terog is famed (or infamous) for its violent and severe culture, where steel is used for politics and blood is used for business. Though it is not seen as savagery, it is a tough place to live and an even tougher place to prosper, with those that are too rowdy dealt with by the Emperor’s Arguru, or ‘anger’. Blood is allowed to be spilt if in the rules of honour. Any underhanded tactics or backstabbing is dealt with swiftly and sadistically. Boradith The final pioneers of this human expansion were a clever bunch. Of the three brothers, Samus had been the smartest and the most eager for knowledge. When he stared across Hanavar from the top of Tower Umota he picked out a location of tactical importance, hidden within the green mountain ranges to the East. Together these humans marched across the landscape, following Samus as he searched for his perfect location, much like Raith had to find Darn. Through the valleys that border Iria he explored and as the months passed some of the humans began to doubt what Samus was searching for. Many started to drop away from his group and chose to build villages where they had stopped. But Samus didn’t mind. He had seen the perfect location. He just had to find it again. It was the Fourcrest Mountain that helped him. He remembered it being next to his destined city, the largest mountain in the range, with water running down it into the wide still lake that he was desperate to find. Following the Fourcrest Mountain he turned the corner to find the lake, serene and still. Samus was elated, jumping for joy while the rest stood in bewilderment. Many soon became angry with him for leading them on a wild goose chase but all he did was laugh and jump into the lake. It was madness, and the watched with confusion as he swam close to the middle. And suddenly, he just stood up. All of their mouths gaped open. Samus was standing on water – actually it was more dancing and running than standing. He shouted for all to swim over and they quickly obliged, making their way to the middle. Upon reaching it they were met by a rocky platform just an inch below the water, the very one which Samus was now running about on. And it was here that Samus built his city, Boradith. They raised a foundation atop of the underwater platform and began to build the city, implementing a sewer system early that let the gentle water take the waste away downstream, towards a waterfall at the end of the lake. Not only that, but Samus was insistent on harnessing the water’s power to create more a more efficient city. Though the lake was calm where they were, the people built mechanics to manipulate it to create a hydro power for the city. Through this watermills were made and other inventions too: clever fishing traps, sewage pumps, water filters and cleaning systems. The city was like a cloud floating low across a calm sea, reflecting into the watery mirror. It was crafted beautifully as well, with a mix of white clay found near the mountain and some Elderwood traded from Darn. And because of this combination of beauty and knowledge, the mysterious drow and sun elves would come to share secrets with the people of Boradith. It was here in this city where humanity learned of magic and truly grasped its understanding of it. When he had grasped it, Samus, now in his old age used his new found power to light the city, through a mix of magic and water energy. The magic lighting was constantly maintained thanks to the clever water systems that harnessed the hydro energy. Not only that, but magic was then attached to all inventions and experiments, blasting Boradith into the future in terms of technology. This made the residing sun elves angry, while the drow were worried about the consequences of such great energy. The drow voiced their concern but the sun elves were less subtle, attempting several sabotages with the Boradith’s experiments. For the sun elves were unhappy that the humans could create a city better than theirs and decided to squash Boradith back down to size. But the humans found out. And both the sun elves and drow were banished for what they had done. The drow were understanding towards the humans of Boradith and still to this day blame the sun elves for being removed from the city. A select few drow have been invited to study at Boradith in recent years, but no one else.
Name: Mordin Maubiag Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 11 Appearance: Knocking just an inch short of the average eleven-year-old, Mordin does not impress anyone with his height. Sporting a simple, vale tunic and brown leggings strapped to his waist with a piece of rope, he appears to be just like any other citizen. Worn boots protect his feet from the cold and he is often seen wearing a small, green cape with a hood. His hair is pitch-black and the strands on his forehead reach just short of his brow. His big, round, eyes are a pale blue. Mordin would’ve appeared no different from any other kid, if it hadn’t been for his piercing gaze with which he seems to stare straight into people’s minds. Background: Mordin’s background is shrouded in secrecy. No one in or around Highguard knows who his parents are, but neither does anyone recall him not being there. Ever since Thomas the druid settled a few miles into the wood, Mordin has stuck to the man like glue, and Thomas is regarded as his guardian. A year ago, Thomas reluctantly moved into Highguard to assist the court physician, a fellow druid, with his studies and (when the time comes) take his place. Having no other place to go, Mordin went with him and has lived within the castle ever since. Class: Wizard Class Type: Druid Family History: Unknown. Picture (shamelessly ripped from deviantart, colored very poorly by me): --- Name: Thomas Traemos Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 58 Appearance: Dressed in the same earthly colors as Mordin, Thomas doesn’t stand out whatsoever, though some refined noses might notice a scent of pineapples about him. I have removed his original description in favor of a picture from deviantart: Background: Thomas was birthed into a tribe of travelling druids who sought to help everyone come closer to nature. The tribe consisted of multiple cultures and races, they healed the injured, shared their food with the starving and exchanged knowledge. For a long time, all seemed to go well. They were often received with open arms, and the word of the good work they performed even prompted some local landlords to let them camp on their grounds for extensive periods of time. This all ended however when a powerful Drow druid began to mold the group to fulfill his personal desires. Many respected the Drow (Thomas refuses to mention his name) for his wizarding skill, but he profoundly lacked the wisdom to wield it wisely. Thomas saw their once noble group fall apart from the inside. Many left, some others died in suspicious circumstances. Thomas’s father left to serve as a doctor to a rich landlord and sent Thomas and his mother money whenever he could. But the flow of money decreased rapidly until, after six months, no money arrived anymore. Whereas they had been welcomed into towns at first, they were now frowned upon and met with suspicion. Some druids were even condemned into beggary by the word of mouth that preceded them. Cut off from his father and with his mother dying from illness, Thomas ventured forward on his own. His life had its fair share of up and downs, but his knowledge kept expanding. He decided to settle In a forest as his aging bones prevented him to travel as much as he used to. It was around this time that he crossed paths with Mordin and decided to take him up as an apprentice. Class: Wizard Class Type: Mage. Family History: See background.
Name: James Breckenridge Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 17 Appearance: I'm average height for my age, but I'm slim and wiry. People jokingly say that I have no meat on my bones, because my arms and legs are very thin. I have longish brown hair, in a 'manga' style (https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/...cOkASHoRQEsWjNh4vTjlp1hYzQO1W-yXutrdclA5XwKam) and sharp brown eyes. I'm not muscular, but when I'm in danger I can be quite strong. I'm quite a fast runner, and I like to stay out of sight of people. Background: I'm the son of a minor noble in the castle, Thomas Breckenridge. My mother died in childbirth, and my dad has had to raise me himself, but we don't get along very well. I despise being the son of someone important, as I would much rather people take no notice of me whatsoever. From about the age of 10, I've been sneaking out of the castle to mingle in the surrounding town. I'm very good at stealing anything from fruit off a stall to a nobleman's gold watch out of his pocket. The years of thievery have honed my senses and I can normally sense when there's about to be danger. Class(Warrior, Wizard, Ranger, Thief): Thief Class Type: Street Pickpocket Family History (optional): My Great-Great Grandfather was a friend of the lord of the castle, and although my father can't say to hold the same honor, he is still a minor noble. Any Other Information: I know everything that goes on in the castle, due to my intimate knowledge, accumulated over the years, of the castle's many secret passageways. I also keep an ear open when in town for any gossip, and I learn a lot from the chatter of the castle kitchens, which have many dark corners to conceal myself in. I use a rapier (a fencing sword, my father made me learn how to fence when I was younger) as my main weapon, and I have a small dagger concealed at my belt. Because of much experience in street brawls, I've learned to always wear a stiff leather undershirt.
@Newtonium I am assuming you'll be writing in 1st person then? Out of curiosity, do you find it easier to write from 1st person? Because I really find that quite hard to do properly myself... Oh and, hi!
@Macaberz I won't be writing in the first person; I seldom do. For some reason, I write profiles in first person and stories in third I'm weird like that. When I'm writing profiles, I like to get inside my character's head; think like he would think. That means that, when I get to writing the stories, I can accurately write what he's thinking (third person omniscient FTW). I don't know if that makes any sense . Just BTW, do you know when the RP is going to start?
The RP will start when I have approval from LostHawken, so it shouldn't be too long. Plus when approved I would like to get a starting post up first before everyone else starts their adventure.
Name: Malefius the Mage Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 64 Appearance: Malefius was a man of grand height, now bent double by age. There was a time when he towered above mere mortals, but now his back is crooked and body is frail. The elder tends to shuffle rather than walk, and the long hooded robe covering his wrinkly frame slows him down more. Though he is fragile, Malefius cuts a look of a man that knows all; wisened and astute. His hair miraculously still holds black, albeit with a few streaky greys, and he has a tied ponytail for the back and beads in the immense beard at the front. And his stare. Sunken and creased, each eye a deep pool of auburn and black, much knowledge trapped inside. Background: Malefius was once a prominent member of the Hanavar Magus Order, investigating the mysteries of the arcane across the land. The future was bright for this youthful mage, pitched as a possible candidate for leader of the order. But one fateful investigation in the Marshes of Moar saw him expelled from the Order. In one swift motion Malefius was alone, removed from a world that he loved – but long time friend Lord Robert Karos provided him an option. The Lord needed a magical advisor and brought Malefius into Highguard, discussing politics and economy, and teaching lore and arcane. Together Merda and Malefius are the Lead Magi of Highguard. Class(Warrior, Wizard, Ranger, Thief): Wizard Class Type: Arcanist (A mage that manipulates the ley line energies of the world, rather than the primal elements.) Family History (optional): None found. Any Other Information: None.
awesome, I'm going to make a character soon just wait, it will take time but I will finish it soon I may post it in two halves sorry for any inconvenience
Make sure you post it to me first for approval. Thanks. And take your time as well, no need to rush a character, you want him/her to be just right! EDIT: Loving that pic Newton!
@Newtonium oh I see, that's pretty clever actually. Not a technique I would use though, writing from 1st person brings it too close to my chest and I often end up writing 'as myself' if you know what I mean. @motormouth1312 what Fox said, no rush @Fan7asticMrFox So it's us four and...there was a fifth person right? Maybe we can get @JessWrite, @AnonyMouse, @Darkthought, @slurpy_NinJa , @Nameless Wildflower, @JJ_Maxx or @Love to Write in here #shameless advertising.
The more the merrier, but I don't want to force someone to join- if they have a character in their mind that fits well and they want to play then great And you should go into marketing @Macaberz ! @Newtonium I wrote a character sheet in a Ominous Minds in a first person sort of style for the Lady in Red. But I did it as a random bartender, he was the first person character describing her. Here's a link to the page.
Scrolls of Iria: Shadows Name: Falcor Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 39 Appearance: Tall, Dark Haired, A scar on the left side of his face, Pale skin. Clothing: A brown leather tunic with a black hood and trousers. Brown boots. Background: Falcor comes from a small hunting village two days ride from Highguard. His father, Sheldren, has been chief for the last forty-two years after a mysterious incident with his predecessor. His mother, Lila, was the previous chief's only child, passing that honour onto Sheldren. Falcor has three siblings, two brothers and one sister. Falcor has always wanted to become guard in Highguard. To do so he had to give up his right of becoming chief. Though Falcor is the eldest, he passed the honour onto either to the twin brothers, Xerdan and Zordon. They constantly quarrel over who would take over, leading Zordon to almost murder his sibling. Falcor arrived in Highguard on the eve of his twenty-first birthday but originally wasn't accepted into the guard. To his disappointment, the captain didn't need any more archers and didn't want to see him on the range. A year later, the captain of the guard was attacked by a group of tribal savages whilst ridding through the woods. Luckily, Falcor was hunting for deer (on request of the butcher) and spotted the attack. Both bodyguards were brutally killed, with their heads smashed in. Our hero shot one arrow which flew into the tribe leaders face. Then a second plundered into one's heart and the same with the third. Finally, the last man fell after the arrow found itself lodged in his knee. To finish him of, his throat was slit. Falcor was then invited to the guard, to which he accepted. He is now well regarded and shares a room with Andros, a swordsman. He is a shred business man within the barracks selling luxurious treats from the city, such as dried fruits and nuts, which other troops cannot get access to. He has been married to Haelga, a shop owner in the city, for the last five years. Class(Warrior, Wizard, Ranger, Thief): Ranger Class Type: Archer Family History (optional): The family are one of three who founded the village and have good links in the south. Any Other Information: He is an excellent hunter. He has, in the past, had a problem with alcohol. Whilst intoxicated, he often bedded castle maids (before he met his wife, of course).
Welcome @Arannir! We finally got it going! Thanks for joining bud Thanks @Newtonium, I really enjoyed writing that character sheet.
@Macaberz Yeah I'm new. I sent my characters info to Fox and I think I got this restarted. @Fan7asticMrFox Great to be here, mate. Can't wait to start, I've got some great ideas.
Yea pretty much, I had had a few people send CSs in recent months but told them the game was dead. When @Arannir sent his through I thought to myself, 'maybe this is worth another go?' So I asked around
So we sorta owe this game to you, @Arannir? Have some kudos! Also, this seems to be a predominantly British RP, aside from me and LTW. I expect sarcasm, terrible puns and gentleman-ish behaviour. Cheerio mates! No but really, it's quite nice to have a bunch of people that are closer to my timezone...you know, sleep depriviation and all that
