The Legends of Eroris: Brotherhood [OOC/Fantasy Medieval]

[Everhall]

I will have to get familiar with the lore first, haha!

It's always best to do that first yes

[The Olog-Hai]

So it returns.
Summer comes, too, so free time for me.

[Everhall]

So it returns.
Summer comes, too, so free time for me.

That is exactly why I waited till the summer to do this

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

I'll probably go with a spy-ish type from the Order of the Phoenix!

[Everhall]

I'll probably go with a spy-ish type from the Order of the Phoenix!

I like what you're doing there.

I think you may get a mission to a certain island from a certain prince very soon. It'll been fun to see who your character gives his/her loyalty to. You're going to be a dark elf I assume?

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

If the character doesn't have grey skin, its existence is sin.

[Everhall]

If the character doesn't have grey skin, its existence is sin.

[Laughs in Elvish]

[Ithalian Empire]

If the character doesn't have grey skin, its existence is sin.

To bad there are no Argonians for you to have as property.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

If the character doesn't have grey skin, its existence is sin.

To bad there are no Argonians for you to have as property.

A great shame, honestly!

[Everhall]

To bad there are no Argonians for you to have as property.

A great shame, honestly!

I mean we're about to have an invasion. Dark Elves could get some... compensation

[Olthenia]

Well, this seems interesting!

[Everhall]

Well, this seems interesting!

Welcome to the RP! What race you fancy?

[Ithalian Empire]

The Duchy of High Rock

Detailed Map

Ruler: Hwaetmund Carcaster
Noble House: House Carcaster
Province: The Reach
Domain: The Rock, a tall monolith of stone that rises 500 feet above the local train, built on the top of the promontory is the castle of House Carcaster at the base is a the town, all bearing the same name.
Population: 15,000
Army: By law, ever able bodied man, woman, and child is to take up arms when the call comes. This stems for the violent times of the Second Interregnum, and again during the bloodshed of the Third Interregnum. However this law can not truly be enforced and in reality was made only to silent a sense of martial duty the the Lords of The Rock and the Duchy itself. In truth, the current Army of the Rock stands at nearly 3,500. Most of this is withing the Militia, the citizen solders who take up arms when needed and return to there fields when the campaign is done. These are numbered and 2,000 men, mostly armed with pole arms and short swords with many also being archers.

The elite troops of the Rock are the Order of the Rock, a group of heavily armored knights from the most prominent families of the Rock itself. They serve as the heavy cavalry of the Rocks forces as well as the personal guards of the Duke himself. In total there are 300 of these knights.

Mages are expensive, and High Rock isn't the most wealthy place in the Reach, but there is a small force of 20 battle mages. The Next force in the professional army of the Rock is the Guard, a well trained and dedicated force of 1,000 men, the Guard are the primary law enforcement of the Duchy. The Guard are normally outfitted with light Armour and long swords, however halberds and pikes are also commonly used.

Finally there is the Stone Watch, a small force of 180 men who patrol that mountain passes, keeping them clear and holding back the beasts that call the Mountains of the Moon Home. These men are experts in stealth, masters with the bow, and have a grasp on magic. They are perhaps the most versatile of the Rocks forces, yet being the smallest they at most will only ever see combat in the mountains themselves.
Navy: N/A
Short History: The History of High Rock begins sometime during the Attican Empire, however House Carcaster was not in possession of the title at that time. At that time the Duchy of High Rock was held by House Vrex. This lasted until the end of the Third Interregnum when House Vrex was extinguished in Alaro Ashens conquest. Without any ruler, House Carcaster emerged from the small hamlet of Stonehead. Sealing several alliances with other minor houses in High Rock, House Carcaster claimed the Rock as there own. However another house had the same claim, House Pithythe of Mason Crest made a bid as well. This lead to a local war between the two houses.

After two years of blood shed and the intervention of the newly instated High King, House Carcaster was made the ruling house of High Rock, with Jerom Carcaster wedding Alice Pithythe to untie the land after the war. House Carcaster whoul make many improvements to the Duchy during the rule of Alaro Ashen. However with the Wars of the the Phoenix and again with the War of the Black Phoenix the House would have a souring opinion of there rulers. Now, in the modern day, House Carcaster keeps a leery eye on the event to there east, least there sons once more go off to die in some Gods forsaken war over some damned black chair.

Even more to the point, the current Duke, Hwaetmund Carcaster is currently laying in his death bed, taken by a rapid and mysterious illness. As the court physician and mage work around the clock to try and cure the Dukes ills, his son, Heremond Carcaster awaits, both in fear that is father may die, and even fearing that he may have to rule High Rock. Meanwhile, a white bird brings black omens to the capital and Everlid Carcaster, the youngest of the Carcaster children feels that a time of blood and fire is moving ever closer to High Rock.

Allies: TBD
Enemies: TBD
Goals: Keep House Carcaster in power in High Rock and possibly gain more power.
420 - Don't remove, for tracking

[Brusia]

Tag and a quick lore question: Do the Reachmen have normal human livespans, or do they live longer due to their Eldyaar ancestry (like the Dunedain in LotR)?

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Llavesa Faryon

Race: Valyar / Dark Elf
Gender/Sex: Female/Female.
Age: 47
Appearance: As seen. Pierced nose, curly black hair, grey skin, red eyes. Relatively tall for a Valyar, although not extremely so. More lithe than curvaceous - combined with her length making for a mostly regal figure (if dressed appropriately, of course!). Attractive for a Dark Elf, although not to some sort of extremity where it is hard not to notice her. Such would be most inconvenient with her occupation, after all! A heavy dosage of makeup for when attending courts or other noble gatherings, and a much smaller amount when such is not the case. Several scars on her back, obviously inflicted by a whip, and a swirling tattoo on her right side are the only marks of interest on her body.
Class: Nightblade. Destruction magic, light armor, swords and daggers, acrobatics, athletics, and various other uses of magic, as well as a smooth, silver-lined tongue!
Equipment:

• Enchanted steel blade - sharper than a regular blade, and far less likely to break.
• Two daggers, similarly both fashioned out of steel. One is enchanted to light its target on fire, should the bearer so desire, the other to shock them.
• Three throwing knives.
• Leather armor.
• Alchemical kit, used for the creation of potions and poisons alike.
• A whole host of dresses, clothes, and other assorted garments, both befitting of the nobler types and of the poor and downtrodden. Excessive amounts of make up.
• A significant amount of gold.

Skills:

• Skilled with blade and dagger - primarily when whoever she's using it against isn't looking or is otherwise caught by surprise.
• Competent with magic - primarily that of the sort that lights things on fire, or that makes her steps just a little more quiet. Certainly not on the level of a fully-fledged mage, but enough for it all to be of great use.
• A smooth tongue and a people person, meaning she's able to measure people with relative ease, and that she can indeed make for a persuasive type - frankly, it's something that one could consider required for her job!

Weaknesses:

• Physically rather weak - while quick and athletic enough, Llavesa has no great endurance nor is she particularly resistant to pain. Far from it, in fact.
• Possesses an unhealthy love for illicit substances. Can't do without for too long.
• Red eyes, ashen skin - these are things that can make her stand out when not surrounded by her people. Rather inconvenient, for a spy - and that'd be an understatement!

Bio: Born in the city of Harmon on the southern coasts of the continent, in the Reach, Llavesa Faryon was the daughter of two immigrant Valyar, a merchant and his wife whom had traveled there for the wealth to be found within those lands. Raised in moderate wealth, and schooled as a child, Llavesa certainly had a good, bright future ahead of her. Those hopes would be crushed eventually, however, when her father got caught for committing tax fraud - while managing to stay out of prison, the fines were so high that to pay them off, the family had to sell most of their things and were reduced to poverty as a result. Stripped off of her rather luxurious, comfortable life, the young Llavesa was left with a longing to return to how things were long ago - although such wouldn't come to pass for quite some time.

As fate would have it, it would be during the family's newly found impoverished state (although the parents were hard at work to see about fixing that, of course!) that Llavesa found herself suffering from the Arcanist's Fever. What little money the family had left went into relieving Llavesa of her ailments, and in paying for some teaching, at least to the extent that she would no longer accidentally light things on fire. A solid investment, naturally, but they never did regain their fortune. So it was that, as soon as she reached adulthood, the Dark Elf left the safety of her parents' home, so as to no longer be a burden on them financially, seeking her own path.

This would rather rapidly lead to her involvement with the local chapter of the Thieves' Guild. It was a home, albeit a temporary one, and it could lead her back into the wealth she so desperately longed for. For several years she worked with the Thieves' Guild - indeed, with her coin, she managed to afford a teacher to help her learn more about the usage of magic and how she could use the powers that were evidently at her disposal. She honed her crafts, be it skulking in the shadows, or lighting things on fire, and picked up on some bad habits, but as with all things, it must come to an end. At the age of 25, Llavesa was caught by the local authorities. Imprisoned, she found herself offered a most merciful choice - to either serve them, now, by ratting out some of her former colleagues, or to roy away in a prison cell. The Dark Elf took the most sensible choice, of course, and so it was that she was set free, shipped off to a distant, distant city indeed, while several of her former coworkers now populated Harmon's dungeons in her stead.

Llavesa, meanwhile, found herself arriving in the capital of the Ashen Empire itself, the city of Isnhrion. Apparently, not only had she been removed from the city as a 'reward' for her cooperation, she now also, in fact, found herself right on the path to joining the Order of the Phoenix - not as a heroic, well-armored guard, standing by the Emperor's side, but instead as one of the many spies the order has among its ranks. This would be an issue, of course, were it not for the fact that this offered her the opportunity to employ her talents completely within the boundaries of the law, as well as, at times, that life of wealth and splendor she so longed for, together with a very, very decent salary. All of this gave the Dark Elf more than enough reasons to be a perfectly loyal spy, and so it was that she received even further training in her craft, honing her skills, this time not only for the good of herself, but for indeed all of the Empire.

Since then, Llavesa has traversed across the Ashen Empire, from north to south and west to east, all for the greater good. Rooting out dissent, cautioning advice sent regarding vaguely rebellious lords - the occasional 'disappearance' where convenient, all in a hard day's (or as it happens, plenty of years) of work. As of 4E900, she has returned to the capital to continue her work there, posing as a Valyarian emissary in the royal court, keeping an eye out for both assassins among the attendants, and anyone getting just slightly too disloyal. Now, with a white hawk carrying grave news making its way towards Isnhrion, that seems to be more important work than ever - although the question shall be, of course, when is it treason, and to whom ought the people be loyal to? Llavesa couldn't possibly claim to know, but it's bound to get very, very interesting - and hopefully, profitable. After all, she has been a loyal subject for years, and such loyalty ought to be rewarded...
RP Sample: Pffffffft!

Likes: Valyarian Fire, sex, drugs, rock and roll, secret murder, an assortment of other generally not-so-pleasant things - essentially, her work. She picked it for a reason, after all. Time spent at courts, political intrigue - all more than lovely affairs.
Dislikes: Poverty. The weak and the meek. Bickering princes.
Theme Song: Link
1738! - Don't Remove; For Tracking

[Everhall]

Tag and a quick lore question: Do the Reachmen have normal human livespans, or do they live longer due to their Eldyaar ancestry (like the Dunedain in LotR)?

They have normal human lifespan. In the early days they probably were like the Dunedains, but enough time has passed that most Reachmen can't live past 100. I can see nobles with more pure elven blood living longer, but not by more than 150 years

[Brusia]

Tag and a quick lore question: Do the Reachmen have normal human livespans, or do they live longer due to their Eldyaar ancestry (like the Dunedain in LotR)?

They have normal human lifespan. In the early days they probably were like the Dunedains, but enough time has passed that most Reachmen can't live past 100. I can see nobles with more pure elven blood living longer, but not by more than 150 years

Gotcha, and thanks, I'll get started on an app

[Everhall]

They have normal human lifespan. In the early days they probably were like the Dunedains, but enough time has passed that most Reachmen can't live past 100. I can see nobles with more pure elven blood living longer, but not by more than 150 years

Gotcha, and thanks, I'll get started on an app

What kind of character are you thinking of making?

[Elerian]

I dunno if I'll be able to join, but I'll leave a tag nonetheless.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Mozbaudh the Hammer

Race: Orcish
Gender/Sex: Male/Male
Age: 34
Class: Knight
Equipment:
Equipment of the Far Guard

• Heavy Renstone armour
• Orcish long bow
• Mace
• Round shield
• Hip quiver & arrows

Personal Equipment

• Banner of a prince of Orcinium
• Warg hair helmet
• Steel Circlet of a prince of Orcinium
• A load of gold
• His father’s embalmed remains

Skills: Unlike what many people believe, the Hammer did not get his nickname from his favourite weapon. Of course not, his favourite weapon is the mace. In his homeland, he was actually a proponent of peaceful construction, building roads, way stations and outposts to improve trade and commerce among the Orcish tribes of Middle and Far Orcinium. He is an administrator at heart, with a love for ledgers, accounting and trade. However, life has hardened him, both his exile in Far Orcinium and his eventual exile out of Orcinium entirely. He is a proven battle commander with an intimidating presence, someone who knows how to use his name in his favour. Both in a civil capacity and in a military one, he knows how to lead and rule, especially by example.
Weaknesses: Mozbaudh has one and only one goal: to claim the throne of Orcinium for himself, and to unite all the Orcs under a single banner. He believes his rightful throne was stolen from under him, and he will stop at nothing to get it back. Even if he already rules a reasonable exclave outside Orcinium, it is never enough. He is willing to risk his own life and the lives of his subordinates to get the throne he belongs is rightfully his. Some in his court believe it would be better for him to settle with what he has, but Mozbaudh’s ambition does not know bounds, not even those of reason. He is prone to fits of rage when he feels that his rightful position is questioned or threatened.
Bio: Orcish clans operate differently in terms of kinship from what one might expect from a family unit. In most human family units, alliances are forged in matrimony. A daughter of one family marries the son of another, and the two families are joined. A ceremony is held, wine is drunk together, and if all goes well, nobody turns purple or is perforated by crossbows. The Orcs of Middle Orcinium, however, do things differently. There is a strict class system that the clans have to adhere to, and to befoul the blood of one clan with that of a lower clan is bordering on blaspheme. Classes intermarry along the lines of their own class. A farmer does not marry a miner. It would not work in the generally egalitarian society of the Orcs, since a matrimonial couple is supposed to work together after marriage. Instead, allegiance between clans of different classes is arranged through adoption. The lower class offer one of their own, be it a capable son or a daughter, to the higher strata. This way, through selective adoption, the higher classes can maintain their numbers even though they are breeding less. Also, in this way, the most capable still rise to the top, in what can be seen as a very crude meritocracy.

Thus it came to be that at age 16, Mozbaudh was ‘gifted’ as a son to Bruzrau, King of the Middle Orcs. His family was destitute nobility, and in exchange for a sizable donation from Bruzrau they would give him one of their own, and their eternal loyalty. So, at the ripe age of 16, Mozbaudh was separated from his loving family into the arms of the fat, impotent king Bruzrau, who was King of the Orcs only in name. He had a lot of money to his name, which is how he bribed the Elder Council to make him king in the first place, but he had neither a hand for strategy nor one for ruling. He liked gambling, sexual encounters with both sexes and warg races held for his pleasure. Ruling was very much second to the hedonism, and the other nobles generally only accepted him as nominal king to be invited to the great banquets he gave. Mozbaudh had a tough time at court. The three biological daughters and the biological son of Bruzrau saw him as an outsider, and were content to keep him outside of their group. Mozbaudh was very much alone.

Mozbaudh, however, was eager to show his worth. He had little other choice. He knew that being useful was the best way to keep alive. Besides that, he did have his heart in the right place. Being a part of a destitute noble house, he had seen suffering from up close, both within his own family and with the poor. The rigid class system was a heavy burden on many areas, with most mining towns being hamstrung by constant problems of poverty. To fix those problems would be his prime motivator. So, when he reached maturity at age 20, Mozbaudh slowly began helping his adopted father with matters. Helping, in this sense, mostly meant taking over for him in certain matters of state. Bruzrau was happy to let his adoptive son do something useful, and he bragged a lot about the abilities of his child. Mozbaudh did his best to balance the books of his father’s household, although the gaps caused by the constant feasting were almost insurmountable. This is where his adoptive siblings came in handy. While not as versed in matters of economics or management, the four were very capable warriors, as was expected of princes and princesses of the kingdom. They were quite open to suggestions containing bloodshed, and though hesitant at first, they soon came to respect, if not their adoptive brother, at least his talents for management. The four first set out to collect from the king’s debtors, with a violent hand if necessary. Then, they went after the many bandit groups that plagued the land. After that came re-establishing order, at least in the heartlands of the kingdom that were the property of Bruzrau. The tax flow was re-established within a few years, giving Mozbaudh some space to invest.

Soon, this unofficial regency council became the prime power in the heartlands of the kingdom. Most nobles still did not accept factual overlordship from the king, but at least his own lands were secure. The king himself did all the traditional matters and the ceremonies, while the Council of Five managed the true affairs. They also learned from one another, as each had their own unique talents. In this, they came to respect one another. At least, until the inevitable happened. Bruzrau, having spent his days whoring, drinking, smoking and eating, finally had his lifestyle overtake him. He died of a heart attack in his sleep when Mozbaudh was 25. The mandatory and traditional month-long mourning period started well. The regency council would stay in place, until the Elder Council could elect a new king or queen, either from among the five or from among pretenders of equal rank. Mozbaudh and his sisters agreed at first that the title would just make one First among Equals, and that the council should stay in place, but his brother Krulgu did not agree. He saw the regency council as a sign of weakness for the king, and wanted the prestige of kingship to be reinstituted. Also, he saw no position of power for an adoptive son, rather wanting to share power with his biological sisters with whom he had grown up. While Mozbaudh was still in morning, forbidden by tradition to leave his father’s side, Krulgu gathered allies. Using his father’s treasure he bribed his way through the Elder Council, and when the Moot was convened within the same month, which generally was seen as a faux pas, Mozbaudh and his sisters could not attend, and Krulgu was elected king.

At first Mozbaudh tried to reconcile with his brother, which seemed to work, but slowly the traps closed around them. The city was filling up with mercenary bands, as Krulgu was increasing the weight of his troops around the capital. As the body of a former monarch had to be embalmed and entombed by his successor, there was strife. Mozbaudh declared the whole Elder Council a scam, and was supported by some of the more moral religious figures, and said Krulgu was no real monarch, and could therefore not entomb his father. Krulgu saw this as an act of treason, technically not possible among family members, and tried to have Mozbaudh arrested. Aided by his sisters, however, he fled the country the night before his arrest, the embalmed body of his father born on a cart. He headed north-west, to Far Orcinium, where his economic reforms had done some good and had granted him allies. In secret, he travelled from fortress to fortress, gathering bands of loyal Orcs looking for a fight. He could never hope to match Krulgu, however, with only forces from Far Orcinium. He would need more troops, more supplies, and most importantly, more gold. So, with the semblance of an army in tow, Mozbaudh went north, then east through Norravägg, south, until they reached the southern plains on the Reach. There the group encamped, settling in a fertile field along a river.

Over the next few years, more refugees would flock to the banner of Mozbaudh. These were mostly political dissidents, religious figures, and Far Orcs. One of his sisters, Oshna, joined up with him too, although their other sisters had decided to remain with their biological brother, for better or for worse. The refugees founded the fortress of Karrack-Burdum, the Fortress of Law, hoping it would prove to be a rallying place for all who stood against Krulgu. As the numbers swelled, Mozbaudh found a way to make money to fund his future campaign. He would sell his Orc army as mercenaries to all kinds of people, to fight in all kinds of wars. The demand from Mozbaudh: the wars had to be just. If you gave money, or weapons, or other kinds of supplies, Mozbaudh’s Band would gladly fight for you. Since then, Mozbaudh has been gathering allies and resources to eventually make a bid for the throne of his homeland.

Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-23XCzB4CvQ
1738! - Don't Remove; For Tracking

Karrack-Burdum
Ruler: Mozbaudh the Hammer
Noble House: N/A
Province: The Reach
Domain:

Army: The army of Karrack-Burdum is roughly divided into three types of units: Far Guard, Middle Guard, and Near Guard, separated along lines of heritage. The units from Near Orcinium are generally arranged as pike phalanxes, with incredibly long Orcish pikes at their disposal. The Orcish strength allows them to wield pikes that would be unfit for humans, and that means that in a straight pike melee the Orcs usually come out on top. These units form the centre of the force. Those from Middle Orcinium are armed with Orcish long bows, renstone armour and the feared double-handed war hammer, as well as a short sword that comes in handy when the hammer is lost. The most feared units, usually kept in reserve to break through the weakest enemy point, is the Far Guard. This unit is smaller, but filled with gritted, heavily-armoured Orcs that fight with all sorts of weapons. They call carry Orcish long bows, but apart from that, the only thing that makes them seem a unit is their usage of blackened renstone armour, with helmets shaped in various distinct shapes. They bristle with boar tusks, spikes and other scary appendages. They wear jewellery made from trophies cut from enemies, and generally tally the number of enemies they killed on the front of their breastplates.
Navy: None but a few transport barges
Short History: See biography above


Allies: Whoever pays, and is worthy of the help of the Orcs
Enemies: Whoever is on the other side of a contract
Goals: To reclaim the throne of Orcinium for Mozbaudh
420 - Don't remove, for tracking

[Everhall]

Mozbaudh the Hammer

(Image)

Race: Orcish
Gender/Sex: Male/Male
Age: 34
Class: Knight
Equipment:
Equipment of the Far Guard

• Heavy Renstone armour
• Orcish long bow
• Mace
• Round shield
• Hip quiver & arrows

Personal Equipment

• Banner of a prince of Orcinium
• Warg hair helmet
• Steel Circlet of a prince of Orcinium
• A load of gold
• His father’s embalmed remains

Skills: Unlike what many people believe, the Hammer did not get his nickname from his favourite weapon. Of course not, his favourite weapon is the mace. In his homeland, he was actually a proponent of peaceful construction, building roads, way stations and outposts to improve trade and commerce among the Orcish tribes of Middle and Far Orcinium. He is an administrator at heart, with a love for ledgers, accounting and trade. However, life has hardened him, both his exile in Far Orcinium and his eventual exile out of Orcinium entirely. He is a proven battle commander with an intimidating presence, someone who knows how to use his name in his favour. Both in a civil capacity and in a military one, he knows how to lead and rule, especially by example.
Weaknesses: Mozbaudh has one and only one goal: to claim the throne of Orcinium for himself, and to unite all the Orcs under a single banner. He believes his rightful throne was stolen from under him, and he will stop at nothing to get it back. Even if he already rules a reasonable exclave outside Orcinium, it is never enough. He is willing to risk his own life and the lives of his subordinates to get the throne he belongs is rightfully his. Some in his court believe it would be better for him to settle with what he has, but Mozbaudh’s ambition does not know bounds, not even those of reason. He is prone to fits of rage when he feels that his rightful position is questioned or threatened.
Bio: Orcish clans operate differently in terms of kinship from what one might expect from a family unit. In most human family units, alliances are forged in matrimony. A daughter of one family marries the son of another, and the two families are joined. A ceremony is held, wine is drunk together, and if all goes well, nobody turns purple or is perforated by crossbows. The Orcs of Middle Orcinium, however, do things differently. There is a strict class system that the clans have to adhere to, and to befoul the blood of one clan with that of a lower clan is bordering on blaspheme. Classes intermarry along the lines of their own class. A farmer does not marry a miner. It would not work in the generally egalitarian society of the Orcs, since a matrimonial couple is supposed to work together after marriage. Instead, allegiance between clans of different classes is arranged through adoption. The lower class offer one of their own, be it a capable son or a daughter, to the higher strata. This way, through selective adoption, the higher classes can maintain their numbers even though they are breeding less. Also, in this way, the most capable still rise to the top, in what can be seen as a very crude meritocracy.

Thus it came to be that at age 16, Mozbaudh was ‘gifted’ as a son to Bruzrau, King of the Middle Orcs. His family was destitute nobility, and in exchange for a sizable donation from Bruzrau they would give him one of their own, and their eternal loyalty. So, at the ripe age of 16, Mozbaudh was separated from his loving family into the arms of the fat, impotent king Bruzrau, who was King of the Orcs only in name. He had a lot of money to his name, which is how he bribed the Elder Council to make him king in the first place, but he had neither a hand for strategy nor one for ruling. He liked gambling, sexual encounters with both sexes and warg races held for his pleasure. Ruling was very much second to the hedonism, and the other nobles generally only accepted him as nominal king to be invited to the great banquets he gave. Mozbaudh had a tough time at court. The three biological daughters and the biological son of Bruzrau saw him as an outsider, and were content to keep him outside of their group. Mozbaudh was very much alone.

Mozbaudh, however, was eager to show his worth. He had little other choice. He knew that being useful was the best way to keep alive. Besides that, he did have his heart in the right place. Being a part of a destitute noble house, he had seen suffering from up close, both within his own family and with the poor. The rigid class system was a heavy burden on many areas, with most mining towns being hamstrung by constant problems of poverty. To fix those problems would be his prime motivator. So, when he reached maturity at age 20, Mozbaudh slowly began helping his adopted father with matters. Helping, in this sense, mostly meant taking over for him in certain matters of state. Bruzrau was happy to let his adoptive son do something useful, and he bragged a lot about the abilities of his child. Mozbaudh did his best to balance the books of his father’s household, although the gaps caused by the constant feasting were almost insurmountable. This is where his adoptive siblings came in handy. While not as versed in matters of economics or management, the four were very capable warriors, as was expected of princes and princesses of the kingdom. They were quite open to suggestions containing bloodshed, and though hesitant at first, they soon came to respect, if not their adoptive brother, at least his talents for management. The four first set out to collect from the king’s debtors, with a violent hand if necessary. Then, they went after the many bandit groups that plagued the land. After that came re-establishing order, at least in the heartlands of the kingdom that were the property of Bruzrau. The tax flow was re-established within a few years, giving Mozbaudh some space to invest.

Soon, this unofficial regency council became the prime power in the heartlands of the kingdom. Most nobles still did not accept factual overlordship from the king, but at least his own lands were secure. The king himself did all the traditional matters and the ceremonies, while the Council of Five managed the true affairs. They also learned from one another, as each had their own unique talents. In this, they came to respect one another. At least, until the inevitable happened. Bruzrau, having spent his days whoring, drinking, smoking and eating, finally had his lifestyle overtake him. He died of a heart attack in his sleep when Mozbaudh was 25. The mandatory and traditional month-long mourning period started well. The regency council would stay in place, until the Elder Council could elect a new king or queen, either from among the five or from among pretenders of equal rank. Mozbaudh and his sisters agreed at first that the title would just make one First among Equals, and that the council should stay in place, but his brother Krulgu did not agree. He saw the regency council as a sign of weakness for the king, and wanted the prestige of kingship to be reinstituted. Also, he saw no position of power for an adoptive son, rather wanting to share power with his biological sisters with whom he had grown up. While Mozbaudh was still in morning, forbidden by tradition to leave his father’s side, Krulgu gathered allies. Using his father’s treasure he bribed his way through the Elder Council, and when the Moot was convened within the same month, which generally was seen as a faux pas, Mozbaudh and his sisters could not attend, and Krulgu was elected king.

At first Mozbaudh tried to reconcile with his brother, which seemed to work, but slowly the traps closed around them. The city was filling up with mercenary bands, as Krulgu was increasing the weight of his troops around the capital. As the body of a former monarch had to be embalmed and entombed by his successor, there was strife. Mozbaudh declared the whole Elder Council a scam, and was supported by some of the more moral religious figures, and said Krulgu was no real monarch, and could therefore not entomb his father. Krulgu saw this as an act of treason, technically not possible among family members, and tried to have Mozbaudh arrested. Aided by his sisters, however, he fled the country the night before his arrest, the embalmed body of his father born on a cart. He headed north-west, to Far Orcinium, where his economic reforms had done some good and had granted him allies. In secret, he travelled from fortress to fortress, gathering bands of loyal Orcs looking for a fight. He could never hope to match Krulgu, however, with only forces from Far Orcinium. He would need more troops, more supplies, and most importantly, more gold. So, with the semblance of an army in tow, Mozbaudh went north, then east through Norravägg, south, until they reached the southern plains on the Reach. There the group encamped, settling in a fertile field along a river.

Over the next few years, more refugees would flock to the banner of Mozbaudh. These were mostly political dissidents, religious figures, and Far Orcs. One of his sisters, Oshna, joined up with him too, although their other sisters had decided to remain with their biological brother, for better or for worse. The refugees founded the fortress of Karrack-Burdum, the Fortress of Law, hoping it would prove to be a rallying place for all who stood against Krulgu. As the numbers swelled, Mozbaudh found a way to make money to fund his future campaign. He would sell his Orc army as mercenaries to all kinds of people, to fight in all kinds of wars. The demand from Mozbaudh: the wars had to be just. If you gave money, or weapons, or other kinds of supplies, Mozbaudh’s Band would gladly fight for you. Since then, Mozbaudh has been gathering allies and resources to eventually make a bid for the throne of his homeland.

Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-23XCzB4CvQ
1738! - Don't Remove; For Tracking

Karrack-Burdum
Ruler: Mozbaudh the Hammer
Noble House: N/A
Province: The Reach
Domain:
(Image)
Army: The army of Karrack-Burdum is roughly divided into three types of units: Far Guard, Middle Guard, and Near Guard, separated along lines of heritage. The units from Near Orcinium are generally arranged as pike phalanxes, with incredibly long Orcish pikes at their disposal. The Orcish strength allows them to wield pikes that would be unfit for humans, and that means that in a straight pike melee the Orcs usually come out on top. These units form the centre of the force. Those from Middle Orcinium are armed with Orcish long bows, renstone armour and the feared double-handed war hammer, as well as a short sword that comes in handy when the hammer is lost. The most feared units, usually kept in reserve to break through the weakest enemy point, is the Far Guard. This unit is smaller, but filled with gritted, heavily-armoured Orcs that fight with all sorts of weapons. They call carry Orcish long bows, but apart from that, the only thing that makes them seem a unit is their usage of blackened renstone armour, with helmets shaped in various distinct shapes. They bristle with boar tusks, spikes and other scary appendages. They wear jewellery made from trophies cut from enemies, and generally tally the number of enemies they killed on the front of their breastplates.
Navy: None but a few transport barges
Short History: See biography above


Allies: Whoever pays, and is worthy of the help of the Orcs
Enemies: Whoever is on the other side of a contract
Goals: To reclaim the throne of Orcinium for Mozbaudh
420 - Don't remove, for tracking

Accepted, post in archives. Expect an imperial delegation to come over when the RP starts. They may want to know why your warband is sitting in Reacheon territory. There is a lot of bad blood between Orcs and the Reach

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Finished my app, I think!

[Everhall]

Llavesa Faryon

(Image)

Race: Valyar / Dark Elf
Gender/Sex: Female/Female.
Age: 47
Appearance: As seen. Pierced nose, curly black hair, grey skin, red eyes. Relatively tall for a Valyar, although not extremely so. More lithe than curvaceous - combined with her length making for a mostly regal figure (if dressed appropriately, of course!). Attractive for a Dark Elf, although not to some sort of extremity where it is hard not to notice her. Such would be most inconvenient with her occupation, after all! A heavy dosage of makeup for when attending courts or other noble gatherings, and a much smaller amount when such is not the case. Several scars on her back, obviously inflicted by a whip, and a swirling tattoo on her right side are the only marks of interest on her body.
Class: Nightblade. Destruction magic, light armor, swords and daggers, acrobatics, athletics, and various other uses of magic, as well as a smooth, silver-lined tongue!
Equipment:

• Enchanted steel blade - sharper than a regular blade, and far less likely to break.
• Two daggers, similarly both fashioned out of steel. One is enchanted to light its target on fire, should the bearer so desire, the other to shock them.
• Three throwing knives.
• Leather armor.
• Alchemical kit, used for the creation of potions and poisons alike.
• A whole host of dresses, clothes, and other assorted garments, both befitting of the nobler types and of the poor and downtrodden. Excessive amounts of make up.
• A significant amount of gold.

Skills:

• Skilled with blade and dagger - primarily when whoever she's using it against isn't looking or is otherwise caught by surprise.
• Competent with magic - primarily that of the sort that lights things on fire, or that makes her steps just a little more quiet. Certainly not on the level of a fully-fledged mage, but enough for it all to be of great use.
• A smooth tongue and a people person, meaning she's able to measure people with relative ease, and that she can indeed make for a persuasive type - frankly, it's something that one could consider required for her job!

Weaknesses:

• Physically rather weak - while quick and athletic enough, Llavesa has no great endurance nor is she particularly resistant to pain. Far from it, in fact.
• Possesses an unhealthy love for illicit substances. Can't do without for too long.
• Red eyes, ashen skin - these are things that can make her stand out when not surrounded by her people. Rather inconvenient, for a spy - and that'd be an understatement!

Bio: Born in the city of Harmon on the southern coasts of the continent, in the Reach, Llavesa Faryon was the daughter of two immigrant Valyar, a merchant and his wife whom had traveled there for the wealth to be found within those lands. Raised in moderate wealth, and schooled as a child, Llavesa certainly had a good, bright future ahead of her. Those hopes would be crushed eventually, however, when her father got caught for committing tax fraud - while managing to stay out of prison, the fines were so high that to pay them off, the family had to sell most of their things and were reduced to poverty as a result. Stripped off of her rather luxurious, comfortable life, the young Llavesa was left with a longing to return to how things were long ago - although such wouldn't come to pass for quite some time.

As fate would have it, it would be during the family's newly found impoverished state (although the parents were hard at work to see about fixing that, of course!) that Llavesa found herself suffering from the Arcanist's Fever. What little money the family had left went into relieving Llavesa of her ailments, and in paying for some teaching, at least to the extent that she would no longer accidentally light things on fire. A solid investment, naturally, but they never did regain their fortune. So it was that, as soon as she reached adulthood, the Dark Elf left the safety of her parents' home, so as to no longer be a burden on them financially, seeking her own path.

This would rather rapidly lead to her involvement with the local chapter of the Thieves' Guild. It was a home, albeit a temporary one, and it could lead her back into the wealth she so desperately longed for. For several years she worked with the Thieves' Guild - indeed, with her coin, she managed to afford a teacher to help her learn more about the usage of magic and how she could use the powers that were evidently at her disposal. She honed her crafts, be it skulking in the shadows, or lighting things on fire, and picked up on some bad habits, but as with all things, it must come to an end. At the age of 25, Llavesa was caught by the local authorities. Imprisoned, she found herself offered a most merciful choice - to either serve them, now, by ratting out some of her former colleagues, or to roy away in a prison cell. The Dark Elf took the most sensible choice, of course, and so it was that she was set free, shipped off to a distant, distant city indeed, while several of her former coworkers now populated Harmon's dungeons in her stead.

Llavesa, meanwhile, found herself arriving in the capital of the Ashen Empire itself, the city of Isnhrion. Apparently, not only had she been removed from the city as a 'reward' for her cooperation, she now also, in fact, found herself right on the path to joining the Order of the Phoenix - not as a heroic, well-armored guard, standing by the Emperor's side, but instead as one of the many spies the order has among its ranks. This would be an issue, of course, were it not for the fact that this offered her the opportunity to employ her talents completely within the boundaries of the law, as well as, at times, that life of wealth and splendor she so longed for, together with a very, very decent salary. All of this gave the Dark Elf more than enough reasons to be a perfectly loyal spy, and so it was that she received even further training in her craft, honing her skills, this time not only for the good of herself, but for indeed all of the Empire.

Since then, Llavesa has traversed across the Ashen Empire, from north to south and west to east, all for the greater good. Rooting out dissent, cautioning advice sent regarding vaguely rebellious lords - the occasional 'disappearance' where convenient, all in a hard day's (or as it happens, plenty of years) of work. As of 4E900, she has returned to the capital to continue her work there, posing as a Valyarian emissary in the royal court, keeping an eye out for both assassins among the attendants, and anyone getting just slightly too disloyal. Now, with a white hawk carrying grave news making its way towards Isnhrion, that seems to be more important work than ever - although the question shall be, of course, when is it treason, and to whom ought the people be loyal to? Llavesa couldn't possibly claim to know, but it's bound to get very, very interesting - and hopefully, profitable. After all, she has been a loyal subject for years, and such loyalty ought to be rewarded...
RP Sample: Pffffffft!

Likes: Valyarian Fire, sex, drugs, rock and roll, secret murder, an assortment of other generally not-so-pleasant things - essentially, her work. She picked it for a reason, after all. Time spent at courts, political intrigue - all more than lovely affairs.
Dislikes: Poverty. The weak and the meek. Bickering princes.
Theme Song: Link
1738! - Don't Remove; For Tracking

Accepted Post in Archive!

[The Valyria Empire]

This is some good stuff, I say. Tag, I’ll give that lore a good read in a minute.

[Zanera]

"I am Alyndel the Gilded, titled such for my enemies when they see my array, and with fatal folly mistake show for a lack of prowess."

Race: Mayaar
Gender/Sex: Male
Age: 142
Appearance: Alyndel carries an embossed shield and often wears his fancy armor with perfumes. His horse is equally fancified with its own armor, and it is a white thoroughbred. He carries around his sword, Braslumbra, though he often forgets to put a whetstone to it.

Class: (TES: Oblivion) Knight

Equipment: Alyndel wears upon him the armor given to him upon joining the Lord's Order (with neck guards upon the pauldrons) and carries a shield embossed with the seal of the noble he served under that made him a knight. Braslumbra was given to him soon after joining the Lord's Order by a thankful noblewoman. The Lord's Order has also provided Alyndel with his current horse and its armor. Alyndel carries perfumes and parchment for poetry, as well as some cheeses, vegetables, and salted meats, usually. A waterbag, and a feed bag for his horse. A flask of Reacheon liquor. Whetstone, health potion, bandages. Various other things in his saddlebags, including a change of colorful clothes composed of wool and Valyarian silk.

Skills: Despite Alyndel training less and less gradually over the years, his muscle memory is still very much honed from being a mercenary with frequent jobs. Now he trains in his full knight's armor, upon a horse, and with his shield, maintaining his agility and prowess some. He has had decades of sword usage behind him, as well as the spear, javelin, and halberd. However, he doesn't use these things often and lately he may be chumped from underhanded moves from bandits that would have never passed him in his mercenary days.

Weaknesses: Alyndel has rarely practiced his magic. When he does flame parlor tricks he sometimes fails and gets sent out the castle or tavern, and as for archery he can shoot decently at a range but anywhere else and he hardly thinks to ever use a bow, much less shoot accurately. Alyndel's funds mainly rest upon the Lord's Order and odd jobs from nobles. He's been lazy, only doing what he has to to get more money in order to mostly just impress some daughters of noblemen.

Bio: Alyndel was born in Aarendell, to a father born into the merchant-class and a mother born into the peasantry. His father had run away to marry his mother, causing a schism between his father and his grandfather. Luckily his father was a gifted sculptor, keeping the family afloat financially, while his mother tended the home and sometimes sold pastries she'd bake in the oven and sell to the neighborhood children. Alyndel was one of three children, two boys and a girl. He would often have to defend his brother from bullies on top of getting into fights with children his own age. Public executions did not make him sick, but they did make him very sad. Instead he'd spar with sticks with his friends, and go to tournaments whenever his parents would allow, enjoying the melee rather than the joust. The melee had more uncertainty than the joust, and he thought horses were smelly after he had started working with a cartman, cleaning up after horse traffic.

Naturally considered a lowly job and with not much money in it, he did not want to be stuck in it, so he asked his father for a tutor. After two more weeks of working with the cartman, Alyndel started learning about language, math, and the natural ways of the world. When his tutor asked him to perform a very simple spell, it was found that he had little capacity for magick, and so his tutor kept up teaching him the ways of the world, including philosophies. After his tutor had taught Alyndel all he could, he finished the lessons and went off. With what Alyndel had learned, he was determined to get better pay, and found a job as a bookkeeper. The shop would receive a book about swordsmanship a few months later, and Alyndel would purchase it and read it whenever he could, studying every page and maneuver. A month later he would get a simple, cheap sword, practicing in a courtyard, all the while girls would giggle at him every time he failed. He kept trying for months, until by chance a man wandered through the streets to his practice area, watching him execute complex maneuvers, until he tried to cut through a watermelon. The sword got stuck in the watermelon and the fruit whipped off its log along with the sword, and so the man gave Alyndel his sword, which was much sharper and finer. Getting back into the maneuver, Alyndel chopped the watermelon clean in half. "You can have the newest and fanciest moves in all of Eroris, and it would mean nought if you had the dullest blade known to any sheath," counseled the stranger, before continuing on with an invitation," I can tell what you have been studying. It is a classic, but that also means it is outdated. I will be in the city for a few more days looking for work. You can find me at the Silver Jug Inn if you want to learn maneuvers that are much more recent." Then the stranger took back his sword and cut a crescent through the melon. He cleaned his sword, sheathed it, and departed. Alyndel rushed back home.

When he arrived, he told his mother about the whole thing, and when his father arrived, he too. His father and mother together discounted the invitation of the stranger, and his father asked him what the man looked like. The stranger was a Reachman, and that was when his father flew into a rage. "It was Darath Jorn, a dog on top of doing work much too dangerous for people with book skills like you! You are not to leave this house until that blood-muzzled mercenary is out of the city!"

A couple of days passed, and Alyndel grew more and more forlorn. Finally, his brother came to him, and said he would aid his escape from his home. His brother distracting his mother, Alyndel scrambled out of a window and made a run for the Silver Jug Inn. There he found Darath just-departing, and Alyndel told how he would have to go down side-streets and alleys so as not to be caught. Darath led him to an alleyway and opened a hatch to the sewers below. "You must learn to think below your feet as well as on them. The ground is a whole other world only the dwarves seem to acknowledge." They made their way through the sewers until they appeared in another alleyway just before the city entrance. Before they could pass out of the city where Alyndel could be free from his home to learn about martial combat, he saw his father waiting there, likely having found out when Darath was leaving the city. His father approached the two, and took Alyndel by the upper arm. Darath started to draw his blade, but Alyndel cried out to stop. He looked his father in the eye and told him about the book from the shop, how he had been training himself for months. Now he wanted to learn more from Darath, to become skilled in his bladesmanship. After a few moments, his father relaxed his hand and let go, but advised finding another mentor as soon as possible, one that wasn't as hot-headed as Darath Jorn.

Alyndel said goodbye to his father, before heading outside the city with Darath to his mercenary camp. Darath was in the city to not only get a new contract, but to also secure more supplies for his 500-band mercenary crew the Red Gauntlet. The camp had whole system of guards, and it sounded like its own city. Darath told him about how marching with a real army thousands-strong was much more incredible, and a logistical nightmare to mobilize again after camping. The first thing Alyndel's new mentor did was take him to a couple of shrines in the center of camp, one to Ryenar, another to Sokva. "One finds themselves in the eyes of Ryenar when they become a warrior, and are judged for their courage and bravery. To have fear in your heart is natural for all, but to shrink away from battle because of it is the reasoning of cowards. As for Lady Sokva, once one accepts fighting in battle, they must also accept that death may come to you or a close comrade, and that Sokva will be there to guide theirs or your soul after death. Those with warrior hearts aspire to aid Sokva in the afterlife in defending this plane against the Dreadlords. Accept the Lord and Lady into your heart, and your journey begins."

Alyndel was then told about the mercenary company. An eighth of it was pure logistics and the remainder had a roster of duties to attend to when the company encamped. Alyndel was fitted onto the roster and immediately took up his own rotating chores, standing watch for hours on end, his complaints ignored until someone warned him that the vast majority marched on foot, with the supply wagons reserved solely for what they are named for. He rarely saw Darath, and when asked about training, he was told it would start the next time they encamped. Until then, he would get to know everyone else. Someone tipped him off to start getting on the crotchety head-armorer's good side. As Alyndel started getting to know the mercenary company and how mercenaries generally worked, the camp was rooted up and put to march southward towards the mountains. Halfway through the march, during a break, someone gave him some moleskin. "Your soles are bleeding from the ripped blisters. I think you've discovered enough about what marching can do for one day."

Over the months Alyndel trained with more than just Darath, learning all kinds of skills and techniques with more than just the sword. Although Alyndel would never master more than the crossbow, impressing everyone with his ability to learn, even the company mage, whom Alyndel could only learn defense against magic from. He gained calluses on his feet and gained fewer blisters, and learned not to complain about chores quickly. Then the company found themselves sitting in front of the wooden palisades of a bandit fort. The camp had been accumulating outlaws and rebels, and was the subject of Darath's new contract. It was here that Alyndel showed everyone his warrior heart, and gained an arrow for it, which he recovered from in time. The mercenaries would march all across Eldrion and the Reach, getting new contracts for terminating bandits and rebellions. Darath grew old as Alyndel just began to age, and Darath was ready to leave his mercenary company in the hands of his second-in-command. He personally approached Alyndel and told him of the Order of Ryenar, a prestigious organization for mercenaries that he had earned his way into. He hoped that when Alyndel became great himself, that he'd join it, hopefully before Darath would pass away.

During a noble contract in the Reach, Darath was wrought his time to pass into the hands of Sokva. Alyndel and the company immediately marched to Herrath to bid Darath Jorn goodbye. Alyndel went to a pub to get drunk, and after passing out he found he had been stolen away by some kind of traffickers, along with several others. He eventually freed himself, killed the traffickers who did not flee, and freed the rest of the prisoners. Leading them back into the city on a hangover, Alyndel almost said no to an invitation to go to a lord's castle. But he accepted, and when he got there he saw one of the people he had freed, apparently a wealthy noble's son. He had a penchant for slipping away and had crossed paths with the traffickers. Upon hearing how Alyndel had freed him after being in bonds himself, the noble wanted to be-knight Alyndel in service to him. This was a knight's path, full of chivalry, mercy, and a following of Ceros. It also promised much money, and Alyndel's nose told him this was a good path.

Soon after the proposal, Alyndel quit the Red Gauntlet, going back to the noble's castle to learn all the nuances of the knight's code for weeks before he started training for combat in a full suit of armor and on a horse. The training would be its own kind of strenuous, but Alyndel would get through it, and would start defending the lord's honor soon enough. He would go about doing jobs that hardly required even half a suit of knight's armor. It seemed he would fall back into his old mercenary habits, defending ladies that should be able to pull a dagger themselves in situations Alyndel considered menial, often just standing there before he realized he needed to take off his overcoat to lay in the smallest patches of mud that the lady just daren't go around when a chivalrous knight stood nearby. Then one day Alyndel was tasked with defeating a small band of undead at an abandoned graveyard, raised by a necromancer, who had been raising even more undead according to the most recent reports. He rode to the site in full armor, for him and whatever could be afforded for his horse. Arrows plinked against the armor, and Alyndel never let a blow land where it would batter his flesh. He cut his way through the undead, bashing aside whatever the necromancer had just raised from the earth to behead the unearthly mage. When Alyndel rode back into town, he found people cheering him on, and a feast awaiting him.

When the lord died, Alyndel was free from his contract, and started to ride about getting prestigious jobs from local lords, eventually joining the Lord's Order. As he completed more prestigious jobs and gained more prestigious honors, Alyndel slowly got lazier and more hungry for attention until he simply rode into towns just to wow the local women. He spent gobs of money on armor, arms, on his horse's maintenance, and on a Ring of Swiftness to make him seem faster than he really was, living off the money he had gained in his two lives before. The only books he read were books of enchanting poetry, and he filed down the calluses on his feet. He competed in jousts and would not allow anything but the utmost glory for himself. Sometimes on his travels he'd see highwaymen stealing from travelers, but would not intervene unless others were watching. Alyndel's warrior heart is desiccated, but not yet broken...
RP Sample: One or more. You can also write one for this RP specifically.

Personality: When he drinks, it's because of the death of his mentor and idol. When he does not lament Darath, he is polishing his equipment, and when he is not doing that he is trying to impress women. He used to be hardened and would shun bad company and heavy drink, but now he drinks often to send away the memory of his mentor and enjoys trivial company. He is arrogant and is always seeking glory, whether actually tangible or not. He seeks glory that is fleeting only the day after, and doesn't know what he wants to do with the rest of his years.
Likes: The company of women, earning enough pay to get by, impressing women, writing and sounding poetry, and prancing about. Getting drunk sometimes.
Dislikes: Practicing his skills out of a lovely maiden's sight, and silly exercises within a lovely maiden's sight. He doesn't like to fight not out of moral qualm, but because he is softened to near-cowardice. Remembering Darath, and his mercenary decades.
Voice: Throw an elven accent over Boromir's voice I guess.
Theme Song: https://youtu.be/XbS3tPO9sUs?t=1574
(Feel free to add anything else!)
1738! - Don't Remove; For Tracking