Please post comments and discussions for SoI:The Isle of the Sun here. Character Sheets Meek Gromlen Caleb Syl Nerrier Vedelo Vandego Saorla Uí Donnghaile The Bard Shango Ka Joe Evan Major Maiya Gwyther Uyrl Bruhmkord Edolas N'yrn Das Max "The Ballista" Nylthia Quicksilver Vila Glastig History of Hanavar 1. The Tragedy of Nv’Idyor Spoiler 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. 2. The Three Rings 2.1 Before The Three Rings Spoiler 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. 2.2 Darn Spoiler 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. 2.3 Terog Spoiler 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. 2.4 Boradith Spoiler 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. 3. Ancient History of the Sun Elves Spoiler History tomes of both the Sun Elves and Drow only record their time on Hanavar, however it is believed that these races existed many millennia before. Neither is willing to share any insights into their livelihoods prior to Hanavar, a secret either held close or long forgotten by current generations. What we know is that a group of Elven settlers travelled from the West in the hope of finding a new world, braving the Ocean of Endless and landing on a fertile Hanavar. They found themselves on the beaches of a thick jungle - that would eventually be known as Sin'Das Rei - and set up camp ready to explore. The leader of the expedition was Sevren Aryrs, a youthful adventurer, who after being down on his luck so many times planned a one way mission to a land anew. Through his sharp wits and promises of a better life, Sevren had convinced a group of over thirty Elves to follow him. They had become a close knit group on their travels across the vast sea and though there had been fears of being lost forever, they all stuck together in moments so dark. As luck would have it, they did actually find a new world. It was the greatest triumph in all their lives and so they sang and danced and drank what wine they had left, to celebrate the start of their new life. And for a time it was bliss. They had partied, named their first three days on Hanavar as the Festival of Sól - insisting that they would celebrate it every year - and were just about to embark on their expedition to settle in these thick jungles when the unimaginable happened. Five Drow Interceptors appeared on the deep blue horizon. They had been followed. In a panic Sevren and his expedition tried to pack away and cover their tracks, but the Interceptors set upon them rapidly. While Sevren's voyage had been one of spontaneity, the Drow Military had been meticulously planning their journey for years. To be beaten by the Elves would be an injustice. But to be beaten by a Sun Elf Commoner would be unforgivable. Their cruelty was swift. There would be no witnesses and the Drow would claim the title as discoverers of Hanavar for their own. Each of the Elves were rounded up and tied together, placed on an Interceptor and sailed further out into the Ocean of Endless. The Drow weighed them down with their own equipment, that way there would be no evidence of their existence. They struggled together at first, trying their best to break the bonds and make for the surface. The shadow of the Interceptor began to leave and the Elves floated further down so very desperate for freedom. Yet, as each minute passed, the Elves began to perish, drowning and burdening the survivors further still. If Severn could have shed a tear at that moment he would have and he surveyed the survivors, his friends, with sadness knowing the futility of their struggle. Sevren saw the light and... he was not afraid. The last few weeks had been the most alive he had ever felt and Sevren always knew this was a one way trip, but he had not known where to. It was to the light and it's warm embrace took him, tingling on his skin like fine sand. Strangely his feet were cold. It was at that moment he lurched into a seated position, chucking up his guts full with salt water. He coughed and spluttered for air, straining a gasp from his dry throat. With his energy sapped Sevren lay back and rolled his head around the sun to see his surrounding. There was the beach but thick jungle trees no longer. Instead red cliffs blocked his view. There was another gasp nearby and Sevren gingerly sat up to see a female Elf who had survived. And as he adjusted to the bright light from the sun above he saw more survivors injured and weary nearby. There were five including himself, two males and three females. It was a miracle how they survived. Or maybe Sól had kept them alive to test them. There was no equipment. There was no food, no water and here on this Island the sun was unbearable and looked in touching distance above them. The whole place was barren with endless beaches and high, unforgiving red cliffs that stretched up to the sky. But just at the top, just out of reach of the average eye was something golden. And only Sevren could see it. And so he started climbing. This was a sign from Sól. With such high cliffs and the beating sun on his back, the others thought him mad. All except one. Felila watched Sevren climb with awe and something sparked inside her, something deep that had been dormant her whole life until that moment, when she started climbing too. Slowly one by one they all started to climb and though the ascent was tough, steep and dangerous and though they were fatigued beyond belief, they pulled themselves up the red cliff. They regularly took breaks, ensuring to climb when the sun was behind the cliff though it's heat could still be felt, but they also used the cover of night to protect them. On one particular night high up the cliff, Felila stared out across the ocean wondering whether they would ever see those jungles again, but Sevren, realising her hope, took her hand and ensured her she would never see that place again. As she directed her eyes to the ground in sadness Sevren gently touched her face and told Felila that this would be their home. Though it seemed like a wasteland now, Sól had shown him a vision of a glorious world above. Four days they climbed with no food or water. Four days they climbed with rags for clothing and blistered sun burns on their back, and bloodied hands so dry, cracked and cut. Three of the Elves had lost hope and stopped, hiding in the shade of a cavern deep into the cliff, and Felila was done too, so tired that she simply could not continue. Yet Sevren was feverish with energy and he had to prove to them this was the promise land. In a heroic feat he pulled Felila up on his back and continued the climb - she had to know, she had to see what they were risking their lives for. The gold above him was close now and it spread all up and down the cliff line above, fluttering over the edge in the wind. They were leaves, soft and golden and dancing in the air, and some of them even swept past Sevren, who could not contain his excitement and ascended the cliff like an Elf possessed. They had made it. Falling over the edge they both spread themselves wide on grass so soft, struggling for breath and gazing up gleefully at the bright forest of golden leaves. It was a place unlike they had ever seen with hazy orange grass and trees of white bark and golden leaves, and even under their cover it felt bright and warm, but not uncomfortable. Rays of light shined through the odd gap, fireflies danced across the forest and flowers swung in the breeze releasing white petals into the air. It was perfect. Felila found fruit and water relatively quickly, allowing Sevren the chance to rest after saving her. There was peach apples in the trees and a stream running through the golden forest. She rested Sevren by the stream and ran to the edge of the cliff to tell the others, to shout the wonders of this world above. By nightfall they were all together at the top. It took weeks for them to fully recover from their malnutrition, thirst and injuries, by which time those that were fit enough helped to build shelter and explore more of their Isle. The land was strange; being so close to the sun would surely turn this terrain into a cooked piece of Earth, but the winds were enough to cool the ground and the reservoir of water ran mainly underground, protecting it from Sól. Mother Nymeria grew wildly and unlike any colour they had ever seen. The grass was a light orange hue with trees of white and gold, almost as if to indicate their support for this hot climate. The group were at the middle level of the Isle, the South flowed downwards away from them and the North slowly climbed with rolling hills. Sevren had taken the longest to recover, his miraculous strength and resolve gone now that he had reached his goal. His power had seemed godlike, and he thanked Sól for that. But Sevren's efforts had left him weak. Felila cared for him day and night while the others planned their new settlement, and the two became very close. The others were left to their own devices, and they liked it that way. Between the three of them their skill sets were enormous, and each of them had joined this expedition to become much more than they were before. Thanos Litra was a budding young engineer with some exciting ideas, while Fink Darnacas was a Sun Mage, the oldest of the group, but just as tough and rugged. Finally there was Sia Quelthalas, she was an expert hunter, and once she had been well fed and healed, she scouted the entire island in weeks. While she looked for a suitable location to build, Fink and Thanos came up with clever ideas for their new settlement. With only five Elves progress would be incredibly slow and they knew that this vision of a new world would take years, decades even, and so the vision had to be passed down the generations. And that vision slipped even further away when quite suddenly, there were only four left. Sadly Sevren never fully recovered from his injuries and though Felila gave all her love and care to heal him, he passed away. The shock was evident; Sevren had been the strongest of them all yet the body could only take so much and his spirit passed onto the Night Gods. The group could not be more thankful for his efforts, he had been the one who brought them together to be a part of his vision, his new world. They all mourned him in their own way, burying him at the highest point of the Isle, but Felila mourned him for years. She understood that he had been a servant of Sól and freed them all from their worldly binds, but at the same time she begged for his return. She prayed at his death, she prayed at his funeral, she prayed whenever she could. Felila lost Sevren but instead gave her life to Sól. So the fate of this new island depended on these four pillars: a Hunter, an Engineer, a Mage and a Priest. Each of them were pragmatic about their situation and once they had settled on the first location they began to populate. And slowly the island came to be, where each generation would follow one of these four pillars, learning its trade and then passing it on to their children. Each of the four pillars would intermingle, sharing secrets and working together to make an efficient and advanced world for themselves. But even so, the island fragmented somewhat into four different sections. The southern most part of the island was where the Engineers had spent their most time, creating incredible inventions and constantly working to improve their power source. This area is the lowest on the island and here they created a large dock in its bay, quickly growing the area thanks to a few Dwarven traders brave enough to sail on water. In present day the housing is tall, dense and unorganised with a smoggy thickness covering the city thanks to the heavy industrial production. This seafaring city is known as Lightwater. North of Lightwater on the cliffs above is where the Hunters decided to settle, helping to create a sustainable landscape where elf and animal could live in harmony, honouring the circle of life. With trees of gold and fields of light orange, the beauty of this vast woodland covered almost half of the island. Too wild to be colonised and yet too forgiving to be a jungle, they named it Nymeria's Garden, after the sister of the Sun God Sól. Much is unknown about Nymeria's Garden and there are still many ancient settlements that thrive to this day. The mages resided on a large plateau North of Nymeria's Garden, seeking to combine the sun and the nearby lake for research and experiments. Their tests were ambitious, unstable and incredibly dangerous and in their push to advance beyond their former race, they lost many lives. They argued that the sacrifice was justified, both in the name of science and their God Sól. The Mages Sect, Engineer Enclave and the Holy Union of Priests worked closely together, and it was this collaboration of minds that was the catalyst to their breakthrough. They had stumbled upon a way to harness the power of Sól, the limitless energy source. While Lightwater was already well on its way to becoming a city, the mages were still experimenting in temporary buildings. They were not yet ready to build their plot, for they knew that this place had to be perfect - perfect in the eyes of Sevren. And it was only when that miraculous breakthrough occurred that they settled. Thanks to the mages growing knowledge of this new energy they were able to create buildings at a frightening pace, crafted out of smooth Whitestone found in the caverns beneath the island. And now in present day, the city of The Visage stands twice the size of Lightwater and infinitely more beautiful. The final piece of the four was also the last to be completed, nestled on the furthest North plateau and separated from the rest of the island by a natural cliff bridge. It was where Felila went to pray, enjoying its seclusion from the rest of the Elves. The small plateau held golden forests that were sparse and open, allowing the land to breath in the light. Here was where they had buried Sevren, in an open field where his God Sól could watch over him. The area lay untouched for decades and Felila would travel to Sevren's resting place each day, without fail, to pray to him and to her God. Even with child she made the journey and many of those children became followers themselves in time. And together they were the believers, the devouts of this island and the Holy Union of Priests. It was only when Felila had died and been buried next to Sevren that a monastery was commissioned. This had been under order from Felila herself, although she wanted to keep the land untouched until her last breath. A small number of temples were constructed in the surrounding area but the most ambitious and striking project was the tower. Named after Sevren himself this curved tower of Whitestone and gold is said to hold some of the most gloriously decorated chambers, only ever seen by the Avi and those that built them. There are four of these towers, one in each section of the Isle. They are known as the Pillars of Morolith and use the breakthrough technology to harness the energy of the sun and power nearby buildings. However Sevren the tower is actually the only one that absorbs directly from Sól - the other towers are not large or powerful enough and share from Sevren's energy instead. A few key points away to bear in mind. Morolith means 'Immortal Day' in the ancient languages - the origin of the name is unknown. The Avi are in essence the Emperor and Empress of Morolith. They are seen as the embodiment of Sevren and Felila and are spiritual heirs to Sól. It is said that they have direct contact with Sól and Nymeria and use the Tower of Sevren to speak to the Gods. The successors of the Avi are not decided through family, but instead searched for. Guards scour the Island to find the new embodiments of Sevren and Felila and succeed them as the Avi. The passing Avi must die together as one cannot lead without the other. Sorrow is the term used for a dark haired Sun Elf. It is an informal insult towards them used by other Sun Elves and even in the most sophisticated societies those without luscious white or blonde hair are deemed impure, tainted and untrustworthy. Due to this their kind are pushed towards the commoner jobs and unable to hold a position of nobility. Ironically this prejudice has led many Sorrows down the path of crime and villainy, which firms the distrust that 'pure' Sun Elves have towards them.
If you want some context then look no further than the history spoilers tomes above! I think I might put together something on the Drow in the future, but we shall see for now.
First person to put up a sheet! Hehe. Name: Meek Gromlen Gender: Female Race: Dwarf Age: 25 Appearance: http://images.yuku.com.s3.amazonaws.com/image/jpeg/2fd25ae47c965bc9ee369256ec57e9f5618d204.jpg Family History and Background: Meek has traveled with her family all her life, selling trinkets and musical instruments. And though that was her life, her dream was to become the first Dwarven bard in Hanavar. Against her family's wishes she joined the Bard Academy in Hanavar three years ago, and has worked tirelessly to fulfill this dream. As of today, she is so close. But there is one more task she must complete. Meek must record a grand story in both song, poem, and history. For Bards are not just minstrels but also the caretakers of history. Reason for Boarding the Kamela: Rumors abound about the Sun Elves, but there is so little real recorded history. What better way to pass her final task than to record a grand story about the Sun Elves? Class(Warrior, Wizard, Ranger, Thief): Thief Class Type: Sneak/Stealth Main Strength: Stealth/Lockpicking Main Weakness: Not physically very strong, no armor Any Other Information: She wears an enchanted cloak that helps her blend into her surroundings.
Our characters are going to have something in common @Love to Write I'll have mine up once Mr.Fox gets through the novel I sent him
Name: Caleb Gender: Male Race: Human? Age: He seems to be on his early thirties Appearance: Colorless long hair and eyes, the color they take is a reflection of light. Athletic physique. He wears a dark colored cape and hood plus brown and white clothing. Background: He thought it was a good idea to steal from elves... Reason for Boarding the Kamela: Seeking answers or perhaps a solution to his little issue... Class: Thief (Originally, now is pretty useless as one) Main Strength: ???? ???? Main Weakness: ???? ???? Any Other Information: He has two strenghts and weakness, I just happened to discover that can be done. I'll hid information if that's ok with Fox... I just don't want to spoil his intro xD
Name: Syl Nerrier Gender: female Race: Sun Elf Age: appears to be in her 50s, but is actually nearly twice that Appearance: Tall, very thin, and fair-skinned, with angular, exotic features. Syl has narrow green eyes with age lines beneath them, thin lips, and greying blond hair that hangs halfway down her back. She has dagger-like elf ears and high cheekbones that taper into a sharp jawline and chin, giving her facial profile a distinct v-shape. Syl favors loose, light dresses in earthy hues, such as tan or brown, a sheer white shawl that flutters in the breeze, and wooden platform sandals. Never leaves home without her wide-brimmed straw hat and parasol and has a permanent smile plastered on her face, like a kindly grandmother. Background: Syl Nerrier hails from a long line of blacksmiths. From an early age, her father proudly extolled the importance of working steel by hand. He worshipped the feel of the hammer, the heat of the forge, and the implacability of a good anvil. Syl grew to love the art of blacksmithing, but developed her own technique. Rather than pound metal into shape, like the cavemen did, she used magic, producing a final product of much higher quality and precision, without the dirty work. She later learned to weave magic into the materials, creating enchanted items. Her methods put her at odds with her father and brothers, who stubbornly adhered to tradition, but others recognized her as a genius. She was recruited by the ‘House of Rain,’ a society of master artisans, ranging from masons and carpenters to sculptors and painters. Under their tutelage, Syl further honed her craft and narrowed her focus to weapons. She has created beautiful ceremonial greatswords for kings… and daggers for the assassins that slew them. The House of Rain does not discriminate in its clientele, but their brokers preserve the anonymity of the craftsmen, shielding them from retaliation. After nearly fifty years of loyal service, Syl walked away from the House of Rain. She left on good terms, ceding her position to a promising young apprentice. Some say she lost her mind or her nerve and succumbed to the guilt of having placed weapons in the hands of heroes and villains alike. Some say she’s just an eccentric genius who chose to step down while she was on top, rather than slowly wither into obscurity. In any case, she stored up enough wealth to buy a rice farm in Darn and live out her twilight years in peace and quiet, as it should be. Reason for Boarding the Kamela: It’s on her bucket list. A Sun Elf who hasn’t been to Morolith? She must rectify this. She’s also on permanent holiday; traveling is just something she does, without much thought to where or why. Class: Wizard Class Type: enchantress / mage-smith Main Strength: Syl has spent decades studying martial theory, including various styles and techniques. She excels at reading her opponents and is not easily fooled by cheap tricks or slight-of-hand and has no difficulty finding openings (if such openings exist). The same applies to magic, not just melee. Perception, patience, and situational awareness are her greatest strengths. Main Weakness: She’s no spring chicken. Syl knows her age and can’t always go the distance with younger, more capable warriors. And she’s no battlemage. Weaponsmithing is the only spell she can reliably cast in the heat of combat; she can literally pull swords out of thin air, but these ad hoc creations aren’t built to last. She knows various other spells, but casting anything else is usually a sign of desperation. Any Other Information: Syl likes to meditate in her free time. When meditating, her mind travels to a place she calls ‘The Armamentarium.’ It is part dojo and part armory, where the memories of her past creations are stored. She uses this place to sharpen her skills with various weapons, test out new creations, or just get away from reality for a moment and find inner peace. She can even spar with herself there. Most of her abilities were honed here, not in the real world. She is capable of pulling others into this inner space as well, if they are willing.
By the by, if the character sheet is approved and posted then crack on and start you first posts! You can be in the hull, on deck, talking to the captain, talking to the crew (NPCs). Go for it!
Name: Vedelo Vandego Gender: Male Race: Half-Drow Age: 27 Appearance: Long black hair that kept pulled up during the day. He’s slightly taller than average with a lithe build, like that of a dancer. He has blue-gray eyes like a stormy sea. He has a naturally dark complexion, with undertones of gray giving his skin an ashy appearance. While he wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, he’s moderately handsome. He has several tattoos though most are hidden save for a black, orange, red and yellow scorpion on the back of his left hand. His ears taper up into a point, giving away his elven heritage. The color of his skin points to which elven line he descends from. He wears long, dark gray robes embroidered with numerous designs done in black threading. Underneath can be seen a dark red and black lacquered armor. On his back is a weapon that appears to be a staff. However the center is a grip and the outside edges are two blades under coverings that can be twisted off. At his hip rests an unusual straight sword. The blade is slightly wider, heavier and shorter than a common longsword. On his other hip he carriers a traveler’s bag slung from one shoulder. On his back is another bag. Background/Family History/Personality: Born to a Drow mother and Human father, Vedelo spent much of his time traveling when he was young. His mother, Qiza Nykur, was the youngest daughter of a Drow chieftain of a tribe in Sin’Das Rei. Vedelo’s grandparents had grown weary of her acting out and rebellious nature. They encouraged her to go traveling and see the world in the hopes that when she returned she would be more appreciative of her station and situation in Sin’Das Rei. Instead she ended up meeting Vedelo’s father on her travels. Their story was a long one but in the end they had Vedelo. Vedelo’s father, Zidigo Vandelo, was also a traveler and explorer, fascinated by ruins and ancient artifacts. He originally hailed from Terog. His dauntless nature and strength had attracted Qiza. Growing up, he listened to all of his Father’s stories about the forgotten histories of the world the lived in. That early fascination with the past has never left him. His mother had taught him of his Drow heritage, and while never took him home to see his grandparents, he knows of them and was told to seek them if ever in need. Until age nine his life was one grand adventure. He learned to speak the common human tongue, Drow, and some Dwarven. He learned much of the world in his early years and is extremely open minded towards all. Virtually immune to culture shock, Vedelo travels with ease and is no longer bothered by his half breed nature or the attention it attracts. In his ninth year of life, his parents traveled to Boradith. His mother was granted entry, as she had soon joined Zidigo’s passion for history and wised to study. Feeling privileged to be one of the few Drow let into the city, she and Zidigo began exploring the many tomes and books that had found their way to Boradith. While there, they had stayed with an elderly scholar who had become like a grandfather to Vedelo. Slowly he saw less and less of his parents as they became embroiled in their research. Zorion Uftzi, the scholar with whom he lived became more of a father figure than grandfather figure. One night his parents came home late and talked with Zorion at length. After they came and told Vedelo they were leaving and that he was going to stay with Zorion for a time. Vedelo cried for three days. Never before had he been left behind. This was three weeks after his tenth birthday. His parents didn’t return in the following months. Or the following several years. Under Zorion’s tutelage Vedelo still grew though. He gained an appreciation for knowledge even more than he had with his parents. It was in the nature of living in Boradith. He saw many wonders while living there. And suffered many hardships due to his half breed nature. Zorion was always there to help him through it and to keep calm. Zorion also trained him in the martial arts so he could defend himself. The antagonization he suffered wasn’t always just verbal. Zorion also taught him forgiveness and to stay in peace with himself. Being a great warrior in his own time, Zorion passed many of his secrets of combat on to Vedelo. He also passed on much of his wisdom. To Vedelo, both of these traits became his bastion of strength that he modeled his life around. When he turned fourteen Zorion told Vedelo of his paren’ts quest to go to Iria in search of the ancient secrets said to lie within that ancient nation’s borders. Vedelo spent time preparing himself in secret to go after his parents. That nearly killed him. He had left and followed maps to Iria. There he was nearly killed by the strange creatures within. Not before acquiring an ancient two bladed sword. It held its edge despite all its time and use. He has since coupled it’s use with the broadsword his father had left for him. Since that failure Vedelo has taken to improving himself in every way possible. He seeks out knowledge and peace within which he can study and train so that he may finally find out what happened to his parents. While doing this his studies have driven him to write a great treatise on the history of Hanavar. Vedelo is an excellent cook and always prefers to buy his food from the market and cook it himself. He trains rigorously to hone his body and reflexes to accommodate his unorthodox fighting style. He understands many things in theory from his hours spent studying. He’s learned many survival tools and secrets on his own from his travels. Keeping his calm is Vedelo’s ultimate goal. He seeks inner peace with himself and is honest to a tee. He is slow and methodical in his deliberations. He is friendly to those that speak with him. He’s stoic in demeanor to those who would harass him for his heritage. He never wishes to hurt anyone, and often when attacked he will simply use his sheathed sword as a staff. He’s extremely proficient in its use in that regard. Aside from that he wishes to live and let live. Right now he’s trying to make a living while he studies in peace in the land of Morolith. His only concern right now his being turned away to his dark elven heritage when he reaches the port. Reason for Boarding the Kamela:He wishes to spend time meditating, training and studying in the libraries of the Sun Elves. His goal is simply to better himself. He’s working on a tome of forgotten history, as he sees it as his mission to make sure that history isn’t forgotten. Class(Warrior, Wizard, Ranger, Thief): Warrior Class Type: Dexterous Fighting Style. An Enlightened Zen Warrior. Main Strength: He is ambidextrous and extremely agile with excellent coordination. Main Weakness: Not the strongest. Also he’s slow to make decisions outside of combat, where his reflexes take over.
Fox! I LOVE your lore! It is soooo awesome, and unique and just awesome! If you have more, pm me. I'll referance as much as I can with Meek.
Oh yeah... Intro post... gotta think this one carefully. Perhaps I should introduce him wrestling with a bear in mid air after slaying a dragon and riding a shark while falling
Fox I'd like any other history you have written as well. @Love to Write I'd be down to collab. Got an idea in my head. Just pm me and we can work on it
Those sharks better have laser beams attached to their heads. As for history, nothing else to share at this time sadly. Maybe in time. Also for those that don't know, this is a prequel to a game I made a while back, which actually took place on the whole continent of Hanavar, rather than just this small island. Though there is a lot on this Istand, trust me!
Okay! Okay! I got it! My character will be an overly nice knight who has dreams of being a great hero but he's really sensitive and sweet to everybody. I think he should have a food based name maybe? What do you all think? That or something that sounds like a nice strapping young man would have. Actually.....wait. No no no no no This seems vaguely familiar. I'll just scrap that idea above it could never work, would be to lame plus I think somebody else used something similar before. BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD!
Never heard of him. ANYWAY! IM BACK and I have an even better idea for a character! Okay You guys are totally gonna love this. I think it could work. A manipulative man who has a dark past, he smokes far to much and the people he comes in contact with have their lives ruined also he happens to be a mummy with bandages on his face and says some really cryptic wise things, he also loves to take on students. Yeah That seems good
Dude, the name Joe is sooo over used. Please, something ORIGINAL! How about, an Elf with a name relating to water who falls for a human against her parents' wishes.
