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by Union Princes » Fri Jan 25, 2019 10:08 am
by The Twelve Isles » Fri Jan 25, 2019 10:12 am
Achidyemay wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Archmage Faendor Lortikai
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Smart, witty and fun loving with a penchant for creativity and zest. Faendor likes things new, exciting, and under control, and he has a matching personality. He is described as passionate and affable and is known for his keen interest in helping others. He likes to keep moving and he feels that if he isn't doing anything then he is falling behind. Generally inexhaustible, he brings positivity, wisdom, and a sense of equality to every room he enters.
Skills: Considered one of the most talented magic users of this age, if not the most dynamic, Faendor is known for his inter-disciplinary approach, mixing the different schools and types of magic together to more specifically suit his needs. He would claim that his best talent is not with magic, but with people, bringing together disparate groups as a way of better understanding magic. He is one of few mages actively engaged in the creation of new spells.
House: The Carn-Laer Caravan
Loyalties: To the Medeis Order, specifically the College of Applied Magics, and the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia
Biography: Faendor Lortikai was born a member of the Carn-Laer Caravan as the third child, second son, of a family of storytellers. His family was known for it's recounting of Western History, specifically the Battles of Lorgasmus and the rise of the Arinian's to power. His birth was late in the night, but well attended; Marda Free, one of the caravan's most famed midwives, oversaw the birth. She recognized the characteristic golden aura within the child and his magical potential almost immediately, recounting with glee the long histories of those born with golden auras. Typically, it was an honor exclusive to the royal family, but it did occasionally manifest outside that lineage, and when it did it was a sign of really good things. The child was blessed, she said. Their section of the caravan had a minor celebration to welcome the child, as was custom, the next day. Many who came to see the baby congratulated the parents on their third, although those from further along who had heard of his miraculous nature were disappointed by the baby's average appearance.
The first many years of his life were good, he was loved by his parents, and he seemed to possess a good mind, always appreciated by the Rosha. His favorite story growing up was Lilia of Karathia's defeat of the Bear Lords, he liked bears. As a young child he asked a lot of questions, and he became known throughout the caravan as "the asking kid". He didn't seem to have the usual ability for story telling, however, and when his parents asked for him to recount the stories, he would often give flat synopsis, almost immediately losing interest unless something felt off, and then he would ask questions of his parents. When his parents pressed for details, he could usually answer their questions, and as he grew older he was more likely to be right, but the one sentence answers would plague his family for years. Faendor's family also found his general curiosity and lack of focus to be troublesome. He wouldn't stick near the wagon, travelling the length of the caravan, and when his legs came fully under him he would hardly stick near the caravan at all. Not long after this they were travelling through the Free City of Ffenen, home to the Medeis Order. Marda Free had evidently been talking with one of the mages there and Faendor was asked to swing by.
Typically magical potential is unlocked via tremendous focus and months if not years of contemplation and meditation (bored kids do it all the time), or through great physical or emotional trauma, where the internal magical abilities, or Aura/Mana, of a person unleashes itself as a form of self-protection. The mage, Maester Fernson, was quick to quell young Faendor's growing fear of the large college. He filled in the youth about how the college used a proven, safe, and reliable method for unlocking potential for nearly a millennia now. After a quick demonstration of illusion magic, the young child was hooked, and very eager to be Awakened. That week he said goodbye to his family. They were worried about him leaving the caravan, as they didn't particularly understand what it was that he would do, but they understood the prestige of the Medeis Order and they understood that this was their child's destiny. The caravan would be staying in Ffenen for a while anyway. The city had always been good to the Carn-Laer, and this gave Faendar the best of both worlds, as it were, even towards the end of the week when he was living almost exclusively within the dorms.
Faendar's awakening would be well attended. 8 years was half the general acceptance age, and while there were records of even younger children being awakened, those records were covered in dust. In the main forum of the College of Evocation, where these things occurred, those mages that could were in attendance and students stretched out into the hallway. An awakening in and of itself was a rare sight, typically students entering the college had already demonstrated magical aptitude, so the boy's awakening was the talk of Ffenen. There was a lot of chatter in the antechamber as Maester Fernson and young Faendor climbed the small central dais. A stone table covered in arcane symbols that glimmered dully dominated the center. Faendor was lifted by two adepts onto the table. The markings grew brighter as Maester Fernson raised his hands over the youth, a light purple fog dripping from his fingers, wrapping Faendor in what to the boy felt like cotton. It was everywhere, mummifying the boy. Faendor found it getting harder and harder to breath, his breaths were shallow, his heart was slow, there was this terrible bliss and powerlessness slipping over him, the air smelled of thyme. Then the mummified child levitated off the stone, arcane symbols alive, twisting and arching like so many snakes. Faendor lost consciousness, Fernson took a step back. The light purple magic was shot through with golden sparks, the fluffy substance cracked and bloated.
"Avert your gaze!" Maester Fernson directed, a tone of power and control in his voice that his body did not reflect. "Now!" He shouted to the adept assistants, who rapidly raised their arms to throw up a smoke screen. It made little difference, there was a thunderclap as the cotton failed and Faendor was released, haloed in golden light that cut through the smokescreen like light through a shadow. He levitated briefly, his eyes were solid disks of gold, his body wreathed in extra arms and legs, there was a humming and chorus that permeated the atmosphere and the smell of thyme had been cut through with the smell of freshly chopped pine. Then Faendor fell onto the table and bounced off onto the floor.
The College of Recovery and Healing was a lovely place. There was lots of natural light and windows and the walls curved and arched like a tall, melted candle. The place was uniformly lit by a powerful illumination spell set into the marblework and the air smelled slightly of cinnamon. Faendor had broken his arm in the fall and had suffered a concussion. Thankfully, the skilled physicians and his own youthful resilience put him on the mend quickly. Which was good because his classes started almost immediately. Faendor was an excited and eager learner, and according to most Maesters, a delight to have in class. He did well in most practicals and tests, although his performance on homework was usually lackluster or undone. He received a lot of patronage from his peers and teacher's and he took this pretty well. Whenever he didn't understand something, he was willing to try to find answers. This led to some division among the Maesters: some thought he shouldn't be treated differently than his older counterparts, others thought he should have his childhood preserved, and unsurprisingly, Faendor gravitated towards the latter instructors. In particular, Maestor Arnor of the College of Illusion became like a father to the young lad, volunteering to oversee Faendor's course of instruction himself. Under Arnor, Faendor was scheduled into a track focused on fundamental magic, with him learning the basics from most of the colleges.
This proved to be an excellent choice as Faendor turned 16 and insisted he was given his own say in the classes he attended and that he should no longer be considered a ward of the Order. He fully enrolled in the College of Alteration at the same time as he enrolled in the College of Fabrication. Having already completed the basic course requirements for both colleges, Faendor was catapulted to Adept status. The intense workload at this time Faendor would recount as some of the hardest and least rewarding years of his life. Constantly having to prove himself to his peers or having to deal with classmates that assumed he was always correct and willing to help. He was called things like "genius" or "prodigy," and often enough they were used like a slur. He began to abuse alcohol and then a substance of his own creation known as morglorb. This dip in performance was acknowledge by the staff, but was generally explained as him biting off more than he could chew. Enrolling in two colleges was an unheard of thing, and there were a few who found a lot to be jealous of.
Despite the malignancies of his life, Faendor became promoted to Senior Adept three years later at the College of Fabrication. He was working directly under Maester Griffith at the time, a stoic and spartan individual with a proclivity for hyper-fixation. He was attempting to construct an enchantment that could be laid on a sword that would imbue the wielder with the experience and knowledge of command and combat that past wielders had possessed. A well known enchantment on the Royal Sword of House Regine. He had had the idea of using memory metal within the blade as a storage device and Faendor was really good at making memory metal. They were a good team. Faendor provided creative ideas and outside the box solutions and Maester Griffith would consider some of these sometimes. A year later they had created a sword that would alter its gravitational pull to levitate and fight. It had basic attacks programmed into it and based on the cut of the jewels in the pommel, could adopt further styles of fighting. Within the lab, sword fighting the ghost sword became a bit of a fun gag. The board considered this good enough work to graduate Faendor from the College of Fabrication, a mere three weeks before he would become a senior adept for the College of Alteration. Maester d'Imagio was new to the college and Faendor was his first charge. They both had grand dreams of a new type of material. They settled on finely enchanted grains of a crystal with a low melting point and insolubility in water. Inert at room temperature, in cold environments or when frozen, the material is able to be manipulated by basic alteration spells simultaneously on a grain by grain basis allowing for the synthesis of highly complex structures from the ground up. For their invention, Faendor was Graduated from the College of Alteration with honors.
He had been in touch with mages at other colleges at this time whose work he had heard about and he traveled between colleges for a time. Universally, he was disappointed by the erudite nature of the academics. In his eyes, they had become too focused on possibilities and their own schools of thought. There was too little application, too little cross-school interaction. He was tired of seeing brilliant conjurers incapable of simple fireball spells, brilliant arctic wizards brought low by runic magic, evokers hurling mighty magical bolts only to have their magic absorbed by warding cloaks and then turning to their knives when the magic failed. Turning back to his own upbringing, he knew the Medeis Order had a fairly well-rounded education, but he was still aware for example that the College of Recovery and Healing did not outsource to professors from the College of Illusion when it came time to teach their students to pacify unruly patients, they relied on their own textbooks and own internal teachings which could be well behind the current practices of the College of Illusion. He brought these examples and arguments back to the Medeis Order. Faendor's proposal was for a new school. He recognized the great value of diversifying abilities, but he wanted something with broad applications. He wanted magic to be seen as a method of problem solving, and not a thing done by old men in towers. The Order deliberated his proposal for a long while and settled on something of a much smaller scale. Faendor was named Maester Lortikai and was put in charge of a new class at the College of Evocation, which was broadly in charge of new students who hadn't decided a path anyway. His class was Practical Problem Solving and it was supposed to be an introductory course.
Faendor was a good Maester, very friendly and willing to work with students, but he was also a strict Maester, with very high expectations for the teenagers that walked through his doors. He spent a great deal of time outside of scheduled class times with students to shore up areas where they were lacking. As the years progressed, the other Maesters began to enjoy the varied abilities of their students. Often, senior adepts were told to seek out Maester Lortikai if there was a bit of knowledge that they ended up needing for a specific thing. It is important to note that Maester Lortikai was often minimally helpful in such encounters, but he was always able to connect the student to someone who had been working in that specific area for a while. He kept his fingers on the pulse of as many projects as he could, and he became famous for his "shadows", students who had been doing poorly in some thing who he brought along on visits to those at other colleges working on that thing. Around this time he also began to reach out to other wizarding schools, establishing contact with multiple magic users. His own senior adepts were a varied bunch; Faendor became much better at Evocation during his time at the college, but he tried to take on adepts who had projects unrelated to pure magic.
After a number of years, he again proposed his idea for a new college. He had made many friends within the Medeis Order and actually got to be a member of the deliberations this time around. The College of Applied Magics was a small and fundamentally experimental affair. It was no simple coincidence that the proposal came at the same time as the closing of the nearby Abathy Chapel and its acquisition by the Ffenen City Council. It was purchased and refitted by the Medeis Order and the classical, tall building became a Frankenstein's monster as Maester Lortikai added countless mechana and archana related tools. Faendor was not appointed as Archmage of the College, however, that position went to the conservative and well rounded Maester Borris. The elderly and newly appointed Archmage Borris was well-connected and proved to be the capable leader that the young college needed. He was practical and straightforward and well versed in the problems facing magic, sharing in Faedor's vision, but narrowing Maester Lortikai's exuberance into several concrete goals. Their first class contained only 4 students, the next contained 27, and within only a few years, the college was taking on nearly 100 students per year. Applied Magics rapidly became a new prestige school given it's small size and Borris' desire to keep a small class size, and given that students would often attend this college in conjunction with other colleges with a 23% dual enrollment rate. The expectations were high and the learning curve was steep, however, and the dropout rate has neared as high 60% some years.
Unfortunately, Archmage Borris would not see his 5th year as archmage. After attempting a particularly violent summoning spell designed to test the efficacy of certain runes, he became ill with acute summoning sickness. Despite receiving almost immediate treatment, complications from his old age led to a rapid deterioration of his quality of life. He died a week later. Faendor had agreed to assist with the rune test, but had been busy helping a student with a transfiguration assignment and had been late. He still holds responsibility for what happened. Promoted to Archmage Lortikai, Faendor put in place more rigorous screening, hoping to drop the burnout rates, which it did, but they still remained the highest of all the colleges in the Medeis Order. Administrative work began to eat up more and more of his time as well, forcing Faendor to quit teaching. He justified it to himself by doubling down on collaborative projects and extracting innovation from his campus.
The death of Empress Artemis II Regina and the subsequent instability had been well predicted by the mediums and politicians alike, although it was not well known how the situation would resolve itself. It was a few months before her death that Archmage Lortikai became aware of the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia, a few members of which with whom he became fast friends. During his visits to the capitol city, he would often seek them out, offering camaraderie, advice on golem repair, and news that he found relevant. He made preparations to be in the capitol on business on that fated day when she passed, but was held up due to a difficulty stabilizing the chassis of a proposed Ley Gate generator. He leaves today, in game, for the court in order to assists the Grand Order and their plan for a peaceful transition of power in any way.
RP Example: Currently in Vanished Wilderness, Was in New Civilizations, And here's an oldie but a goodie.
#SeizeTheThrone
Union Princes wrote:I guess its time to drop out I suppose.
by Union Princes » Fri Jan 25, 2019 10:22 am
by Tasuirin » Fri Jan 25, 2019 12:39 pm
Union Princes wrote:It just doesn't feel the same with Void gone.
by Achidyemay » Fri Jan 25, 2019 12:49 pm
The Twelve Isles wrote:Achidyemay wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Archmage Faendor Lortikai
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Smart, witty and fun loving with a penchant for creativity and zest. Faendor likes things new, exciting, and under control, and he has a matching personality. He is described as passionate and affable and is known for his keen interest in helping others. He likes to keep moving and he feels that if he isn't doing anything then he is falling behind. Generally inexhaustible, he brings positivity, wisdom, and a sense of equality to every room he enters.
Skills: Considered one of the most talented magic users of this age, if not the most dynamic, Faendor is known for his inter-disciplinary approach, mixing the different schools and types of magic together to more specifically suit his needs. He would claim that his best talent is not with magic, but with people, bringing together disparate groups as a way of better understanding magic. He is one of few mages actively engaged in the creation of new spells.
House: The Carn-Laer Caravan
Loyalties: To the Medeis Order, specifically the College of Applied Magics, and the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia
Biography: Faendor Lortikai was born a member of the Carn-Laer Caravan as the third child, second son, of a family of storytellers. His family was known for it's recounting of Western History, specifically the Battles of Lorgasmus and the rise of the Arinian's to power. His birth was late in the night, but well attended; Marda Free, one of the caravan's most famed midwives, oversaw the birth. She recognized the characteristic golden aura within the child and his magical potential almost immediately, recounting with glee the long histories of those born with golden auras. Typically, it was an honor exclusive to the royal family, but it did occasionally manifest outside that lineage, and when it did it was a sign of really good things. The child was blessed, she said. Their section of the caravan had a minor celebration to welcome the child, as was custom, the next day. Many who came to see the baby congratulated the parents on their third, although those from further along who had heard of his miraculous nature were disappointed by the baby's average appearance.
The first many years of his life were good, he was loved by his parents, and he seemed to possess a good mind, always appreciated by the Rosha. His favorite story growing up was Lilia of Karathia's defeat of the Bear Lords, he liked bears. As a young child he asked a lot of questions, and he became known throughout the caravan as "the asking kid". He didn't seem to have the usual ability for story telling, however, and when his parents asked for him to recount the stories, he would often give flat synopsis, almost immediately losing interest unless something felt off, and then he would ask questions of his parents. When his parents pressed for details, he could usually answer their questions, and as he grew older he was more likely to be right, but the one sentence answers would plague his family for years. Faendor's family also found his general curiosity and lack of focus to be troublesome. He wouldn't stick near the wagon, travelling the length of the caravan, and when his legs came fully under him he would hardly stick near the caravan at all. Not long after this they were travelling through the Free City of Ffenen, home to the Medeis Order. Marda Free had evidently been talking with one of the mages there and Faendor was asked to swing by.
Typically magical potential is unlocked via tremendous focus and months if not years of contemplation and meditation (bored kids do it all the time), or through great physical or emotional trauma, where the internal magical abilities, or Aura/Mana, of a person unleashes itself as a form of self-protection. The mage, Maester Fernson, was quick to quell young Faendor's growing fear of the large college. He filled in the youth about how the college used a proven, safe, and reliable method for unlocking potential for nearly a millennia now. After a quick demonstration of illusion magic, the young child was hooked, and very eager to be Awakened. That week he said goodbye to his family. They were worried about him leaving the caravan, as they didn't particularly understand what it was that he would do, but they understood the prestige of the Medeis Order and they understood that this was their child's destiny. The caravan would be staying in Ffenen for a while anyway. The city had always been good to the Carn-Laer, and this gave Faendar the best of both worlds, as it were, even towards the end of the week when he was living almost exclusively within the dorms.
Faendar's awakening would be well attended. 8 years was half the general acceptance age, and while there were records of even younger children being awakened, those records were covered in dust. In the main forum of the College of Evocation, where these things occurred, those mages that could were in attendance and students stretched out into the hallway. An awakening in and of itself was a rare sight, typically students entering the college had already demonstrated magical aptitude, so the boy's awakening was the talk of Ffenen. There was a lot of chatter in the antechamber as Maester Fernson and young Faendor climbed the small central dais. A stone table covered in arcane symbols that glimmered dully dominated the center. Faendor was lifted by two adepts onto the table. The markings grew brighter as Maester Fernson raised his hands over the youth, a light purple fog dripping from his fingers, wrapping Faendor in what to the boy felt like cotton. It was everywhere, mummifying the boy. Faendor found it getting harder and harder to breath, his breaths were shallow, his heart was slow, there was this terrible bliss and powerlessness slipping over him, the air smelled of thyme. Then the mummified child levitated off the stone, arcane symbols alive, twisting and arching like so many snakes. Faendor lost consciousness, Fernson took a step back. The light purple magic was shot through with golden sparks, the fluffy substance cracked and bloated.
"Avert your gaze!" Maester Fernson directed, a tone of power and control in his voice that his body did not reflect. "Now!" He shouted to the adept assistants, who rapidly raised their arms to throw up a smoke screen. It made little difference, there was a thunderclap as the cotton failed and Faendor was released, haloed in golden light that cut through the smokescreen like light through a shadow. He levitated briefly, his eyes were solid disks of gold, his body wreathed in extra arms and legs, there was a humming and chorus that permeated the atmosphere and the smell of thyme had been cut through with the smell of freshly chopped pine. Then Faendor fell onto the table and bounced off onto the floor.
The College of Recovery and Healing was a lovely place. There was lots of natural light and windows and the walls curved and arched like a tall, melted candle. The place was uniformly lit by a powerful illumination spell set into the marblework and the air smelled slightly of cinnamon. Faendor had broken his arm in the fall and had suffered a concussion. Thankfully, the skilled physicians and his own youthful resilience put him on the mend quickly. Which was good because his classes started almost immediately. Faendor was an excited and eager learner, and according to most Maesters, a delight to have in class. He did well in most practicals and tests, although his performance on homework was usually lackluster or undone. He received a lot of patronage from his peers and teacher's and he took this pretty well. Whenever he didn't understand something, he was willing to try to find answers. This led to some division among the Maesters: some thought he shouldn't be treated differently than his older counterparts, others thought he should have his childhood preserved, and unsurprisingly, Faendor gravitated towards the latter instructors. In particular, Maestor Arnor of the College of Illusion became like a father to the young lad, volunteering to oversee Faendor's course of instruction himself. Under Arnor, Faendor was scheduled into a track focused on fundamental magic, with him learning the basics from most of the colleges.
This proved to be an excellent choice as Faendor turned 16 and insisted he was given his own say in the classes he attended and that he should no longer be considered a ward of the Order. He fully enrolled in the College of Alteration at the same time as he enrolled in the College of Fabrication. Having already completed the basic course requirements for both colleges, Faendor was catapulted to Adept status. The intense workload at this time Faendor would recount as some of the hardest and least rewarding years of his life. Constantly having to prove himself to his peers or having to deal with classmates that assumed he was always correct and willing to help. He was called things like "genius" or "prodigy," and often enough they were used like a slur. He began to abuse alcohol and then a substance of his own creation known as morglorb. This dip in performance was acknowledge by the staff, but was generally explained as him biting off more than he could chew. Enrolling in two colleges was an unheard of thing, and there were a few who found a lot to be jealous of.
Despite the malignancies of his life, Faendor became promoted to Senior Adept three years later at the College of Fabrication. He was working directly under Maester Griffith at the time, a stoic and spartan individual with a proclivity for hyper-fixation. He was attempting to construct an enchantment that could be laid on a sword that would imbue the wielder with the experience and knowledge of command and combat that past wielders had possessed. A well known enchantment on the Royal Sword of House Regine. He had had the idea of using memory metal within the blade as a storage device and Faendor was really good at making memory metal. They were a good team. Faendor provided creative ideas and outside the box solutions and Maester Griffith would consider some of these sometimes. A year later they had created a sword that would alter its gravitational pull to levitate and fight. It had basic attacks programmed into it and based on the cut of the jewels in the pommel, could adopt further styles of fighting. Within the lab, sword fighting the ghost sword became a bit of a fun gag. The board considered this good enough work to graduate Faendor from the College of Fabrication, a mere three weeks before he would become a senior adept for the College of Alteration. Maester d'Imagio was new to the college and Faendor was his first charge. They both had grand dreams of a new type of material. They settled on finely enchanted grains of a crystal with a low melting point and insolubility in water. Inert at room temperature, in cold environments or when frozen, the material is able to be manipulated by basic alteration spells simultaneously on a grain by grain basis allowing for the synthesis of highly complex structures from the ground up. For their invention, Faendor was Graduated from the College of Alteration with honors.
He had been in touch with mages at other colleges at this time whose work he had heard about and he traveled between colleges for a time. Universally, he was disappointed by the erudite nature of the academics. In his eyes, they had become too focused on possibilities and their own schools of thought. There was too little application, too little cross-school interaction. He was tired of seeing brilliant conjurers incapable of simple fireball spells, brilliant arctic wizards brought low by runic magic, evokers hurling mighty magical bolts only to have their magic absorbed by warding cloaks and then turning to their knives when the magic failed. Turning back to his own upbringing, he knew the Medeis Order had a fairly well-rounded education, but he was still aware for example that the College of Recovery and Healing did not outsource to professors from the College of Illusion when it came time to teach their students to pacify unruly patients, they relied on their own textbooks and own internal teachings which could be well behind the current practices of the College of Illusion. He brought these examples and arguments back to the Medeis Order. Faendor's proposal was for a new school. He recognized the great value of diversifying abilities, but he wanted something with broad applications. He wanted magic to be seen as a method of problem solving, and not a thing done by old men in towers. The Order deliberated his proposal for a long while and settled on something of a much smaller scale. Faendor was named Maester Lortikai and was put in charge of a new class at the College of Evocation, which was broadly in charge of new students who hadn't decided a path anyway. His class was Practical Problem Solving and it was supposed to be an introductory course.
Faendor was a good Maester, very friendly and willing to work with students, but he was also a strict Maester, with very high expectations for the teenagers that walked through his doors. He spent a great deal of time outside of scheduled class times with students to shore up areas where they were lacking. As the years progressed, the other Maesters began to enjoy the varied abilities of their students. Often, senior adepts were told to seek out Maester Lortikai if there was a bit of knowledge that they ended up needing for a specific thing. It is important to note that Maester Lortikai was often minimally helpful in such encounters, but he was always able to connect the student to someone who had been working in that specific area for a while. He kept his fingers on the pulse of as many projects as he could, and he became famous for his "shadows", students who had been doing poorly in some thing who he brought along on visits to those at other colleges working on that thing. Around this time he also began to reach out to other wizarding schools, establishing contact with multiple magic users. His own senior adepts were a varied bunch; Faendor became much better at Evocation during his time at the college, but he tried to take on adepts who had projects unrelated to pure magic.
After a number of years, he again proposed his idea for a new college. He had made many friends within the Medeis Order and actually got to be a member of the deliberations this time around. The College of Applied Magics was a small and fundamentally experimental affair. It was no simple coincidence that the proposal came at the same time as the closing of the nearby Abathy Chapel and its acquisition by the Ffenen City Council. It was purchased and refitted by the Medeis Order and the classical, tall building became a Frankenstein's monster as Maester Lortikai added countless mechana and archana related tools. Faendor was not appointed as Archmage of the College, however, that position went to the conservative and well rounded Maester Borris. The elderly and newly appointed Archmage Borris was well-connected and proved to be the capable leader that the young college needed. He was practical and straightforward and well versed in the problems facing magic, sharing in Faedor's vision, but narrowing Maester Lortikai's exuberance into several concrete goals. Their first class contained only 4 students, the next contained 27, and within only a few years, the college was taking on nearly 100 students per year. Applied Magics rapidly became a new prestige school given it's small size and Borris' desire to keep a small class size, and given that students would often attend this college in conjunction with other colleges with a 23% dual enrollment rate. The expectations were high and the learning curve was steep, however, and the dropout rate has neared as high 60% some years.
Unfortunately, Archmage Borris would not see his 5th year as archmage. After attempting a particularly violent summoning spell designed to test the efficacy of certain runes, he became ill with acute summoning sickness. Despite receiving almost immediate treatment, complications from his old age led to a rapid deterioration of his quality of life. He died a week later. Faendor had agreed to assist with the rune test, but had been busy helping a student with a transfiguration assignment and had been late. He still holds responsibility for what happened. Promoted to Archmage Lortikai, Faendor put in place more rigorous screening, hoping to drop the burnout rates, which it did, but they still remained the highest of all the colleges in the Medeis Order. Administrative work began to eat up more and more of his time as well, forcing Faendor to quit teaching. He justified it to himself by doubling down on collaborative projects and extracting innovation from his campus.
The death of Empress Artemis II Regina and the subsequent instability had been well predicted by the mediums and politicians alike, although it was not well known how the situation would resolve itself. It was a few months before her death that Archmage Lortikai became aware of the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia, a few members of which with whom he became fast friends. During his visits to the capitol city, he would often seek them out, offering camaraderie, advice on golem repair, and news that he found relevant. He made preparations to be in the capitol on business on that fated day when she passed, but was held up due to a difficulty stabilizing the chassis of a proposed Ley Gate generator. He leaves today, in game, for the court in order to assists the Grand Order and their plan for a peaceful transition of power in any way.
RP Example: Currently in Vanished Wilderness, Was in New Civilizations, And here's an oldie but a goodie.
#SeizeTheThrone
Hey, my character, Siona Willun, is a Rosha mage as well. Though she is not a member of any Colleges, she has made many connections in them. Could be interesting if her and Faendor have some sort of connection due to this. Siona is currently trying to get access to an ancient Vampire library, which no mortal has entered for millennia, and she is debating what she is going to do once she is in. Could be the kind of thing Archmages and College Mages might be interested in, plus it could create an interesting dynamic considering that your character is a highly respected mage within the Colleges, and mine is pretty much the mage equivalent of a hedge knight.
by The Twelve Isles » Fri Jan 25, 2019 4:54 pm
Achidyemay wrote:The Twelve Isles wrote:
Hey, my character, Siona Willun, is a Rosha mage as well. Though she is not a member of any Colleges, she has made many connections in them. Could be interesting if her and Faendor have some sort of connection due to this. Siona is currently trying to get access to an ancient Vampire library, which no mortal has entered for millennia, and she is debating what she is going to do once she is in. Could be the kind of thing Archmages and College Mages might be interested in, plus it could create an interesting dynamic considering that your character is a highly respected mage within the Colleges, and mine is pretty much the mage equivalent of a hedge knight.
Oh yeah, for sure, I've been reading your story so far, it seems really interesting. If you want to retcon some sort of correspondence between them that would be fairly in character, otherwise a chance run in could be a fruitful avenue the next time you hit the road.The Twelve Isles wrote:
I dont know, it seems like it might be worth keeping up with. At least until we see what happens now that V O I D is gone.
I wouldn't be so downtrodden, we still have our words and the world and I word argue that the V O I D had set up a beautiful skeleton for us to build upon and we've done exactly that. The fleshy storytelling we're doing now is far from what we started with and transitions between OPs can be a minor situation if they are treated as such. Nothing ends a good RP faster than people proclaiming it's death at the earliest convenience.
by Union Princes » Fri Jan 25, 2019 5:04 pm
by The Twelve Isles » Fri Jan 25, 2019 8:14 pm
Union Princes wrote:I'm not dropping out. The story is just getting started
by Nu-Amerika » Sat Jan 26, 2019 6:39 am
by The Twelve Isles » Sat Jan 26, 2019 1:47 pm
by Union Princes » Sat Jan 26, 2019 8:40 pm
by Nu-Amerika » Sun Jan 27, 2019 7:51 am
by Tasuirin » Sun Jan 27, 2019 8:05 am
by Nu-Amerika » Sun Jan 27, 2019 8:16 am
by The Twelve Isles » Sun Jan 27, 2019 7:26 pm
by Benuty » Sun Jan 27, 2019 9:04 pm
by Khasinkonia » Sun Jan 27, 2019 11:47 pm
by Sraelyn » Mon Jan 28, 2019 11:38 am
Ormata wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Edda(Image)
Age: 29
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:Standing at 5’6” with a lithe figure, lacking many of the obvious qualities a woman might hold, Edda’s not what one would be stated as ‘perfect’ by any stretch of the imagination. Red hair is kept long and wild, in part due to the nature of her lifestyle, and her skin is pitted and marred by various scars and small cuts, developed both from her eating habits and from the thorns that one sometimes misses. Her eyes, instead of the normal scar tissue covering, are simply not there whatsoever, the area covered by a thick cloth.
Personality:
In terms of clothing, she prefers to wear simple dresses and comfortable shoes instead of the thicker layers one might have in more common society. A crown of roses is always worn by her, made by her own hands, though it is long since dead.
A young wolf is forever following her.Silent, due to the most obvious of reasons, and overall calm in the face of most which occurs about her, Edda’s the sort of individual to strike-out with wrath in a most rare manner. Plagued by the aspects of the forest which she has consumed, there is a mild suffering in the form of a fragmented unconscious, leading to frequent night terrors. She does, however, possess a vast intellect and an instinctive talent towards magic, something that is both natural towards her and gained through her consumption of spirits.
Skills:Well and fully capable in the mental arts, the method of consuming a spirit’s existence in order to garner more power being favored for gathering such, Edda’s able in reaching into another’s mind in order to find information or, in other circumstances, cut-away knowledge in another’s mind to cause a wipe, a gap in memory. In regards to summoning, she is novice and far less skilled than most others, while in the art of evocation, in fireballs and wreaths of flame, Edda can be considered competent. Due to the nature of her life, she rarely performs such violent and flashy actions, taking preference in the more silent methods of disposal. To this effect, both with tinkering of the lands about her and by magical methods, Edda has become capable in taking effect on air pressure, lessening the pressure against a person’s lungs to the point wherein they cannot breathe through the siphoning-away of oxygen. This can, however, be expanded upon to create a rapid vacuum by the rapid consuming of oxygen within a close distance, creating a deadspace of air about her and making a minor concussive blast.
House: N/A
Loyalties:Herself. She holds no love for House Regine nor Carnifex, though were she to become educated on the subject it’s entirely likely she would choose for House Regine’s or a House like so instead of one like House Carnifex.
Biography:Born in Eramauy, a fortress built among the Frigg Mountain Range, Edda’s earliest life experiences were those of living among the convent. Whether it was by a mother who could not keep or a father who would not give, whether it was by a cheating father whose wife could never know the exploits, whether it was by a whore could could never raise, the reason, the why never did matter to Edda. She was given away, a bundle left upon the doorstep who made not a singular sound. The nuns there took her in, took her in to raise and teach in the ways of celibacy and silence, the ways of prayer and praising. Her life there was quiet, for she never made a sound and only ever listened. At first the others thought her in shock, damaged and hurt by something or another, yet they could never make her speak a word. Some thought her to be a devil’s trap, a being who couldn’t speak for she had no soul to speak with, a demon whose strength lay in the ears, yet these few kept to themselves, afraid to a degree of what might occur were they to voice the concerns.
RP Example:#SeizeTheThrone
When she turned eighteen, Edda would be given the simpler tasks in life. She tended to the garden, tended to whatever food the convent could grow among the mountains, and was kept hidden away by the Sisters. They feared, some of the kinder beings, that if her mute nature would be brought to light that she would be viewed as a demon by some Inquisitorial passer, by some crusading knight who saw a demon in every corner, a devil in every fireplace. Such a thing succeeded for some years, yet Eramauy did not survive the winter, nor the storm, nor the strong arm of man. Raiders came from the plains and forests, desperate men who had been cast away from their own villages and towns that hungered for gold and more. They stalked up, up along the mountain path, a roguish few conning their way into the battlements with the lie that they were merely sheltering from the cold, needed food. These few bastards opened the doors quietly, cold steel bared on the hip, and ravaged the convent. The brave died with kitchen knives in their hands, the corpses defiled and deprived of dignity. The peaceful were used, the screams echoing down stone corridors. Edda hid, hid in a cellar until she could hide no longer.
An emotion burned in her, rage and hatred and revenge for what had been done, what will happen, an emotion the teachings had forever told her to ignore and yet welled inside her, inside the heart and soul. Power drew to her hands, the torches about her growing dim before being blown-away by an unseen wind, and in those very hands was there fire gathered between the finger-tips. Edda burst-forth, fire wreathed about her body, purging the bandits with no mercy. The others screamed, kept on screaming as they thought a Sister to be consumed by devilry, to be taken by the demons of hate, screamed and covered their eyes in terror. The smarter bandits grabbed ahold of hostages, thinking themselves safe behind, and yet Edda was still consumed by that rage, that rage of their cowardice and cruelty. In thar rage, she burned-away those before her, Sister and bandit together, burning them until all anyone would hear were screams. Of the two hundred who once lived in Eramauy, fourteen survived, Edda included. For her trespassing, for her use of a blessing in haste and murder, the goddess to which they praised, their patron Gaia, removed Edda’s eyes, plucking them out as one would pluck berries, and the young woman was forced to leave the convent, leave for to stay would be to remind the others of her anger, her murder.
Outside the gates, blind and mute, unable to call for help, Edda collapsed into the snow-covered ground, a shaking hand producing a circle, sealing it with a drop of blood, then a simple rune among the dirt and hard ground. She called forth a spirit, one of the lesser spirits, and it gathered itself before her, gathered it’s body with dirt and twigs, with droplets of blood and tears. It spoke into her mind and, thus, her first Contract was made...though it could hardly be called that. The spirit was a kind and, truthfully, a rather bored one at that, interested to a degree in helping merely for the sake of taking some minor spite at the Goddess who brought condemnation. It was not a very smart spirit, in all actuality, yet in any case did make the Contract. In exchange for some company, some sharing of bread and food, it would give her a measure of awareness about herself, a spacial knowledge of what was there. Her navigation down the mountain was a silent one, a lump of chippings and blood on her shoulder.
In the forests below, the area of the bandits, she slept a first night away, tucked away in a cave. Over several weeks, she would sleep there, the spirit with her bringing measures of food hunted away through one method or another, bundles of berries, and yet over time, Edda felt herself grow weaker and weaker, the spirit somehow becoming more and more active. One night, in a dream, she saw that same spirit, saw it and heard it speak, saw it eat away at a corpse. It ran away, ran away into the shadows of her mind, and that corpse was Edda, throat ripped away. On waking, she asked the spirit, the spirit who didn’t answer, instead lunging at her throat, shards of wood scorning flesh. Edda would have screamed, were she able, her hands clutching feebly at bits and pieces of dirt and rain, and her mind reached-out as well, grabbing ahold of the sensed spirit before her. She didn’t act, not at all, eating the spirit’s very essence before her in chunks. Edda would hunt the forests, finding more spirits and consuming them, as she had with the first. With each taken, new knowledge was gained, new power taken, and over time she became more and more capable. A wild wolf was found, a cub with an eaten mother, found and raised to become a puppet, and Edda lived there. She’s lived there since, the forest hers, the convent long dead, the fortress long since abandoned, and the bandits slaughtered.
The Hierophancy wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Emon, Captain of the Silver Swords
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Calm, collected and friendly, Emon is a generally deferential and quiet person - he is not, however, without spine, nor ambition, and though he's no cold pragmatist or brutal psychopath he's made a few moral transgressions of his own to make it to where he is now. Still, he generally attempts to be morally sound, honest, and loyal to his employer, so long as they make their payments, an attitude reflected by his company.
Skills: Skillful with sword, buckler, bow, spear and pike, charismatic and proficient at both tactics and strategy, along with the basic finances and economic know-how necessary in running a free company. All-around clever person.
House: N/A
Loyalties: Loyal to whoever pays him and his company's wages. Believes in the Empire as an idea, if not necessarily it's current administration.
Biography:Emon was born to a family of turnip farmers within the exceedingly backwater county of Oeg, itself within the slightly less backwater duchy of Grenadiere. Their village, a quaint collection of earthen huts nestled against a particularly infertile patch of mountainside within a small valley known for little less than it's infertility, wasn't large enough to justify officially naming the place. When the need arose for it's residents to name their home, they usually referred to it by the singularly uncreative title of Turnip Farm, or, if seeking to impress, Turnip Farms. Needless to say, young Emon's childhood wasn't very eventful.
Even in the meager turnip fields of Turnip Farm, however, the young Emon's cleverness was recognized among the village serfs, whose stories and oral tradition, whilst admittedly not particularly extensive, were mastered by little Emon with startling speed. Startling for a community of relatively inbred turnip farmers, at least. And so, at around twelve years of age, Emon was packed off with a visiting priest and a sack of precious turnips, instructed to go on and learn to read, write, pray, and other such clever things, so as to make more of himself than he could farming turnips. Although diligent enough to start teaching Emon his letters in exchange for his vegetable riches, the priest was quick to sell the boy, or more specifically a contract of indentured servitude, to the first wealthy enough township he came upon, posing as the boys father. Emon, though not particularly fond of being sold, took to his labors well enough, helping to clear and develop farmland for one of Oeg's wealthier townships, the walled village of Oegsburg, whose modest industries consisted of forestry, farming and operating illegal mines on Dwarfish property. After he finished paying off his contract at around fifteen, Emon continued working various small jobs as a manual laborer, and eventually apprenticing under the towns only priest and scribe, but quickly grew bored of the temple's meager library and the meager town without it. And so, after bidding the priest farewell, Emon set off for the "great" city of Langsburg at sixteen years of age.
In Langsburg, Emon once again sought work as an apprentice scribe, working as a courier and teamster when the city's handful of professional men of letters didn't require assistants. Langsburg, however, much like Oegsburg, didn't prove to be particularly stimulating, and before long Emon found himself once again lusting after greater things. When the ragged free company known as the Silver Swords came limping into Langsburg Harbor, bloodied from some recent conflict further south and seeking to replenish their ranks, Emon signed on immediately, eager for adventure at eighteen. A literate man, Emon was immediately assigned the position of records-keeper and master of coin, the last occupant of those offices having perished to some monstrous foe.
The Silver Swords departed not long after, and determined to return to their roots after their bloody foray into the petty dynastic squabbles of the south, sailed on hired sail north, to the savage lands of Vlka, where the enemy was more oft beast than man. There the company took relatively small contracts - guarding settlements, eradicating packs of wolves and wolfmen, driving off bandits and escorting caravans. The company took on greater challenges too, when they presented themselves, hunting beasts more fell than simple wolves when they threatened communities with coin, fur or amber with which to pay. During this time Emon took to arms near as quick as he had to letters, and soon enough counted himself as among the company's better warriors and hunters, though his duties as company scribe took precedence. In his twenty fourth year, Emon was appointed a serjeant by the Captain at the time, Vexus Andoria, and given command of the company's van, a position in which he earned no small martial distinction, being credited with slaying the bandit Aulio the Bear in his twenty fifth year, and of defeating the werewolf known locally as the Grey Shadow that same year.
Both Emon and his company's greatest achievement at arms would occur later, however, in his twelfth year with the Silver Swords, when they chose to take a particularly risky - and rich - contract being offered by an eccentric, if cautious, forest-lord. Their task was simple - track down and kill the so-called White Lord, a beast more legend than fact said to lurk in the frozen, barren woods to the far north, surrounded by an army of abominations. Tales differ on the exact identity of the White Lord - some claimed him a wayward sorcerer, others a great, snow white werewolf, and many believed him to be an ancient vampire, attended to by an army of undead thralls. Even those who remained of the Silver Swords, upon their return, seemed unsure of what they had battled, though all agreed it was terrible, snow white and dreadfully strong, and that it was accompanied by dozens if not hundreds of white wolf-things. They also agreed upon what transpired after the Silver Swords, bone-weary, cold and low on supplies, stumbled upon the icy clearing in which the White Lord held court. Namely, a bloody, chaotic and costly battle in the snow, which seemed certainly lost after the White Lord, barreling through the hastily assembled company ranks like an avalanche, plucked Captain Andoria off his garron and ripped him in two, tossing the bleeding halves to either side and setting upon the shocked company spear. Emon, however, did not despair, instead calmly taking up the much-nicked silver sword that gave his company it's name and, at the head of his van, charging the fell beast, which he engaged in fierce battle before decapitating. Without their abhorrent chieftain, it is said that the other beasts were easily driven back and ridden down, their pelts, along with the shaggy white hide (whether it was his skin or already a cloak is a matter of fierce contention among the Silver Swords) of the fallen Lord, which was bestowed upon Emon, along with the silver sword and accompanying Captaincy.
After delivering the White Lord's monstrous head (mantle-ready) and receiving his reward, Emon immediately set forth southwards, determined to make something of his little free company. Collecting new recruits along the way, the sellswords made the slow march south, taking what jobs they could as they went and seeking newer, more profitable contracts. They happened to be in great luck, as only a year into their latest foray south, the Empire was thrown into a succession crisis, and contracts were suddenly common as weeds. Emon, ever a man for stealing the march, went with one of the first one's offered - a simple contract of service to a certain fishy fellow...
The Silver Swords: The Silver Swords are a relatively new company, founded about a century ago in Vlka. Initially a simple militia, the Silver Swords were created by a small band of ambitious Northern homesteaders as a means to defend their newly founded settlements and named after the four blades their pooled funds were able to afford - three simple steel swords coated in a thin layer of silver and one blade of solid silver-alloy. The militia had some success, quickly assembling and setting forth whenever one of the tiny townships or homesteads in their little corner of the North called for aid, pushing back countless wolf-thing incursions. However, as their small settlements grew, so too did the attacks, and before long for every five homesteads, ringforts or colonies saved from destruction, one was lost, fallen before the Silver Swords could arrive or overwhelmed. Within a decade of their little colonies founding, it had been reduced to half it's peak size, and by the end of that year, it was destroyed. The Silver Swords, however, were not - incorporating the survivors of their failed colony, they set forth, homeless now, but eager for vengeance, and vowing to prevent more men from being driven from their homes. The company marched and rode from town to town, village to village, aiding in their conflicts with the forest about them. At first, they accepted only what was offered freely, living off of charity. As the years rolled on, however, and the company waxed, waned and changed, they began charging for their services, eventually becoming a mercenary company in all but name, and then in that as well. A new generation of Silver Swords, fed up with the meager offerings of meat, fur, wood and amber they received in exchange for hunting overgrown dogs, chose to hunt bigger contracts, aiding local Vlkan nobility in their petty disputes for a reasonable price. Even in this, however, margins were thin, and so the company headed south, to a land where the grass was greener, the weather warmer and the conflicts both bloodier and more frequent. There they remained, marching back and forth from city to city, war to war, dying and recruiting and killing and dying some more, fighting bandits, vampires, lizardmen, armed peasants, and, of course, other free companies. In their fifth decade down-south, however, the company fought a battle that nearly proved their end upon a field of fire and death. The Silver Swords who emerged from that conflict were a significantly more humble breed than those who had entered, and their newly elected Captain, Vexus Andoria, decided that it was time for the Silver Swords to leave behind the brutal thirst for gold that had drawn them south and return to what they were founded for - killing beasts. And so it was for a good ten years, before his death and the assumption of a new Captain, one who reignited his company's ambition and led them south once more.
The Silver Swords are a diverse company, it's members reflecting the band's history, drawn from all across the Empire, though most are from it's Eastern realms. Their specialty lies within the company's pike-and-bow, though the Silver Swords possess mean divisions of cavalry and mounted archers as well. The company numbers 700 fighting men in total - 150 of which are mounted, 300 of which are armed with pikes, 150 with bow, and 100 as heavy men-at-arms.
RP Example:
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=445172&p=34248575#p34248575
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=426827&p=32811420#p32811420
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=451306&p=34751797#p34751797
#SeizeTheThrone
Skarten wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Grand Prince Phílippos Karamanius Javinius Naravius of Aurinia, Protector of the West, Duke Of The Ivory Sea, Lord Of Karathia & The Palace Of Dusk
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: The best word to describe Phílippos Javinius is charismatic. Since young, the Grand Prince has proved himself to have an extremely charming character, becoming beloved to his people. More than that, he is a patron of the intellectual arts, having built many libraries all around his land and written several books himself. Always active, the young noble has a history of being an persuasive negotiator, often attempting to convince useful people to do actions as to aid him in his objectives.
Skills:
Great Swordsmanship
Excellent Military Leadership
Governing/Management Mastership
Horsemanship/Horseback Combat
House:The Karamanai Dynasty
Loyalties: The Karamanai Dynasty and Aurinia in general has always been unhappy with the foreign rule. Furthermore, Phílippo's allegiance is to his home nation only, having no fealty to the Terran Throne
Biography: Phíllipos Javinius Karamanius Scartenius was born in the year 12.317 (AFTER TERRA) as the firstborn to the ruling members of the Grand Principality of Aurinia, his father being Grand Prince Gallerius Karamanius VIII and his mother Princess-Consort Aemilia Flaviana II. His early life was simple, being nursed by the many servants that worked at the palace, taking care of him while his parents attended to their businesses in the court. During those years, he would more often than not spend his days playing in the halls and corridors of his home, albeit with little interaction with other children.
As the heir hit the age of seven, he was finally given an tutor to oversee his education, an well-known scholar whose teachings were very popular through the lands of the Empire. Under his instruction and tutelage, Phílippos would very soon discover his love for literature, resulting in countless of his days being spent in the Palace's library, an practice which would continue throughout his whole life. In that year, too, would begin his other courses that would teach him in his path to become the Grand Prince of Aurinia, such as swordsmanship, management, an introduction to the overall court life in the Terran Empire, etc.
This routine would continue for several years, with the Aurinian Noble becoming more and more skilled in the trades of his family, acquiring superb experience and ability in many subjects, such as horsemanship, dueling, military strategy, management between others. As his age now permitted it, he would begin to go with his parents on more trips, travelling through the realm he would one day rule, from the agitation of the Ivory Sea Coast to the stark silence and cold of the Scartenian Mountains. Albeit amazed by these scenarios, Phílippos could not help but wonder of the lands that lied beyond the Xarai Desert, whom he had only read and heard about.
As his fourteenth year came along, Phílippos finally became an adult as per law, being allowed now to fully take on his job as a aristocrat and heir of Aurinia. It was at this time that he showed himself to be an natural born leader, in an certain occasion having been said to command his retinue against an notorious free company who had turned to plundering due to the long-lasting piece in the region, who had not seen a war for a long time, and thus were not recruited by any government. With his relatively small force, he is said to have defeated the enemy even in odds of Three to One (Though some say this is an exaggeration).
At around the age of sixteenth, an tragedy hit the Karamanai Dynasty, as both Gallerius VI, Phílippo's father, and Aemilia Flaviana II, his mother, fell heavily ill to Tuberculosis after they were infected while on a excursion on the Scartenian Mountains to visit an very particular castle, dying only a few months later. This meant that the throne of Aurinia and the position of Grand Prince were now left to the young now orphaned Phílippos.
And like that, his reign began. Although shaky at first due to the sudden death of his parents and inevitable turmoil that rose around it, the situation would quickly stabilize itself, with Phílippos proving to the Aurinian court that he was indeed skilled enough to be in the position of Grand Prince. It was also at this time that his marriage was arranged with the Duchess Adriana Ornaviana, who a few years later would die in childbirth, while the heir to the Grand Principality and Phílippo's son, Tiberius Karamanius Javinius, survived.
With his title secured and an heir, the sovereignty of the Charismatic Grand Prince was now assured, and his rule could truly begin. Economical reforms soon followed, together with valuable metal mines and grand Infrastructure projects, such as roads, forts and whatnot, increasing greatly the revenue due to the increased commerce. More than that, the Army's size and budget was increased, allowing for more men in their ranks and better equipment to be used.
Overall, Aurinia had made many advancements in these years of government under Phílippos, with their already large fortune increasing considerably. Yet, in the end, they were still a vassal, and they were still obligated to pay large tributes to the Imperial Throne, whose thirst for gold and valuable had given them an certain unpopularity in the region. But with the death of the last ruler of House Regine, things in Gaia were changing, as uncertainty came together with the possibility of life under the Carnifex. Only the future would tell what the gods had planned for the Land of Gold and Metal, and in particular,for the Charismatic Grand Prince.
Because, as they always say..
Omnia enim possibilia in Terra Auri et Metalum
RP Example:This Was the Most Recent RP i Could find]https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34780128&hilit=Galacius#p34780128
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34668548&hilit=Galacius#p34668548
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34932701&hilit=Galacius#p34932701
#SeizeTheThrone
Mistolia wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Grand Mayor Tellerio Ulvanis the Greedy of Fulvast, Lord Provost of the Fulvast Marches, Lord Mayor of Ungrio, Princeps Publicanus, Patriarch of the House Ulvanis, Lord of Ulvanis and 13th Holy Knight of the Fulvast Scrolls
Age: 53
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Old, fat and greasy. Straggly combover hair atop a sallow and bloated face. A gouty, plump body, always bedecked in the richest clothing. Many fake teeth to replace those lost due to his rich diet.
Personality: Most know Tellerio by his greed. Completely unscrupulous, Tellerio has stopped at nothing to increase the wealth of himself and his house. Completely uncivil and impolite. His behaviour has made him very unpopular with almost everyone since his election (which he won largely by bribing the Serene Electoral Chamber). His greed has been satisfied largely by his cunning and intelligence - although no great genius, he is shrewd and knows a good business opportunity when he sees one.
Skills: Possession of the Vaults of the Grand Mayor of the City of Fulvast, which contain items of great wealth and many invaluable tomes.
House: House Ulvanis, a rich patrician family in the Grand City of Fulvast
Loyalties: Money, House Ulvanis, to an extent the Grand City of Fulvast
Biography:
Born in 12,292 AT to Lord Tellerio Ulvanis of Ulvanis and his wife Azalea, Tellerio grew up in luxury, scion of the richest house in Fulvast. Afforded the best tutors possible, Tellerio seemed bound to do well, and for the most part, he did. Tellerio learnt three languages, and gained a good understanding of mathematics, although he never showed any interest, or aptitude, for subjects such as Theology, Rhetoric or Philosophy. At sixteen, Tellerio was sent to the Throne-City to negotiate trade deals with merchants there, which he did so successfully that his father granted him charters to handle the House of Ulvanis' dealings in slaves and mining. It was in these trades that Tellerio became notorious for his vile and avaricious character.
In 12,320 AT, at the age of 28, Tellerio inherited the titles Lord Ulvanis of Ulvanis, Patriarch of the House Ulvanis, and Holy Knight of the Scrolls of Fulvast from his father, who had died in a riding accident. Tellerio quickly set about expanding his influence within the Grand City, not a hard job considering the wealth and power of the House Ulvanis. By 12,326 AT, Tellerio had ensured that the House Ulvanis had trade monopolies on more than half of goods that flowed through Fulvast. By this point he owned roughly 2,000 slaves. His power made him much resented throughout the city, however a system of bribes, extortion and threats meant that few dared to challenge him.
When the Grand Mayor died in 12,331, Tellerio quickly made sure that the Serene Electoral Chamber, composed of the highest officials in the city as well as some of the richest merchants (many of whom were on Tellerio's payroll) and the most important clergymen and military officers, voted for him, in what was criticised (by those who dared do so) as a completely unfair and illegitimate election based entirely on bribery and extortion. They were right. Tellerio used his mayoralty to enrich his house and himself, while enjoying the many trappings that power brought. A vast new palace was built in the centre of the city, by the main market square, which had a huge new statue of him placed at the centre.While Tellerio's businesses brought many riches to the city, the increasingly corrupt and autocratic government did not have popular support, and facing a popular revolt, in 12,340 AT, Tellerio announced that Fulvast would attack its age-old rival, Ungrio. The people's loyalty to Fulvast, and hatred of Ungrio, overpowered their hatred for Tellerio. With a large mercenary army, Tellerio conquered and sacked the City of Ungrio, declaring himself Lord Mayor of Ungrio. In the five years since this war, Fulvast has stagnated. Tellerio has become increasingly decadent, and has dedicated less and less time to actually governing. He has raised taxes to fund his extravagant lifestyle, while letting his own business, which had become the heart of Fulvast's economy, sit immobile. His position looks increasingly tenuous, and even some of his many children seem ready to turn against him.
RP Example: Most are from other websites:
-GameofThronesRP on Reddit
-EmuWarFlashbacks RP on Reddit
-Mock House of Commons on Reddit
-Newly arrived in 2017 British political simulation on this website
#SeizeTheThrone
Achidyemay wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Archmage Faendor Lortikai
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Smart, witty and fun loving with a penchant for creativity and zest. Faendor likes things new, exciting, and under control, and he has a matching personality. He is described as passionate and affable and is known for his keen interest in helping others. He likes to keep moving and he feels that if he isn't doing anything then he is falling behind. Generally inexhaustible, he brings positivity, wisdom, and a sense of equality to every room he enters.
Skills: Considered one of the most talented magic users of this age, if not the most dynamic, Faendor is known for his inter-disciplinary approach, mixing the different schools and types of magic together to more specifically suit his needs. He would claim that his best talent is not with magic, but with people, bringing together disparate groups as a way of better understanding magic. He is one of few mages actively engaged in the creation of new spells.
House: The Carn-Laer Caravan
Loyalties: To the Medeis Order, specifically the College of Applied Magics, and the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia
Biography: Faendor Lortikai was born a member of the Carn-Laer Caravan as the third child, second son, of a family of storytellers. His family was known for it's recounting of Western History, specifically the Battles of Lorgasmus and the rise of the Arinian's to power. His birth was late in the night, but well attended; Marda Free, one of the caravan's most famed midwives, oversaw the birth. She recognized the characteristic golden aura within the child and his magical potential almost immediately, recounting with glee the long histories of those born with golden auras. Typically, it was an honor exclusive to the royal family, but it did occasionally manifest outside that lineage, and when it did it was a sign of really good things. The child was blessed, she said. Their section of the caravan had a minor celebration to welcome the child, as was custom, the next day. Many who came to see the baby congratulated the parents on their third, although those from further along who had heard of his miraculous nature were disappointed by the baby's average appearance.
The first many years of his life were good, he was loved by his parents, and he seemed to possess a good mind, always appreciated by the Rosha. His favorite story growing up was Lilia of Karathia's defeat of the Bear Lords, he liked bears. As a young child he asked a lot of questions, and he became known throughout the caravan as "the asking kid". He didn't seem to have the usual ability for story telling, however, and when his parents asked for him to recount the stories, he would often give flat synopsis, almost immediately losing interest unless something felt off, and then he would ask questions of his parents. When his parents pressed for details, he could usually answer their questions, and as he grew older he was more likely to be right, but the one sentence answers would plague his family for years. Faendor's family also found his general curiosity and lack of focus to be troublesome. He wouldn't stick near the wagon, travelling the length of the caravan, and when his legs came fully under him he would hardly stick near the caravan at all. Not long after this they were travelling through the Free City of Ffenen, home to the Medeis Order. Marda Free had evidently been talking with one of the mages there and Faendor was asked to swing by.
Typically magical potential is unlocked via tremendous focus and months if not years of contemplation and meditation (bored kids do it all the time), or through great physical or emotional trauma, where the internal magical abilities, or Aura/Mana, of a person unleashes itself as a form of self-protection. The mage, Maester Fernson, was quick to quell young Faendor's growing fear of the large college. He filled in the youth about how the college used a proven, safe, and reliable method for unlocking potential for nearly a millennia now. After a quick demonstration of illusion magic, the young child was hooked, and very eager to be Awakened. That week he said goodbye to his family. They were worried about him leaving the caravan, as they didn't particularly understand what it was that he would do, but they understood the prestige of the Medeis Order and they understood that this was their child's destiny. The caravan would be staying in Ffenen for a while anyway. The city had always been good to the Carn-Laer, and this gave Faendar the best of both worlds, as it were, even towards the end of the week when he was living almost exclusively within the dorms.
Faendar's awakening would be well attended. 8 years was half the general acceptance age, and while there were records of even younger children being awakened, those records were covered in dust. In the main forum of the College of Evocation, where these things occurred, those mages that could were in attendance and students stretched out into the hallway. An awakening in and of itself was a rare sight, typically students entering the college had already demonstrated magical aptitude, so the boy's awakening was the talk of Ffenen. There was a lot of chatter in the antechamber as Maester Fernson and young Faendor climbed the small central dais. A stone table covered in arcane symbols that glimmered dully dominated the center. Faendor was lifted by two adepts onto the table. The markings grew brighter as Maester Fernson raised his hands over the youth, a light purple fog dripping from his fingers, wrapping Faendor in what to the boy felt like cotton. It was everywhere, mummifying the boy. Faendor found it getting harder and harder to breath, his breaths were shallow, his heart was slow, there was this terrible bliss and powerlessness slipping over him, the air smelled of thyme. Then the mummified child levitated off the stone, arcane symbols alive, twisting and arching like so many snakes. Faendor lost consciousness, Fernson took a step back. The light purple magic was shot through with golden sparks, the fluffy substance cracked and bloated.
"Avert your gaze!" Maester Fernson directed, a tone of power and control in his voice that his body did not reflect. "Now!" He shouted to the adept assistants, who rapidly raised their arms to throw up a smoke screen. It made little difference, there was a thunderclap as the cotton failed and Faendor was released, haloed in golden light that cut through the smokescreen like light through a shadow. He levitated briefly, his eyes were solid disks of gold, his body wreathed in extra arms and legs, there was a humming and chorus that permeated the atmosphere and the smell of thyme had been cut through with the smell of freshly chopped pine. Then Faendor fell onto the table and bounced off onto the floor.
The College of Recovery and Healing was a lovely place. There was lots of natural light and windows and the walls curved and arched like a tall, melted candle. The place was uniformly lit by a powerful illumination spell set into the marblework and the air smelled slightly of cinnamon. Faendor had broken his arm in the fall and had suffered a concussion. Thankfully, the skilled physicians and his own youthful resilience put him on the mend quickly. Which was good because his classes started almost immediately. Faendor was an excited and eager learner, and according to most Maesters, a delight to have in class. He did well in most practicals and tests, although his performance on homework was usually lackluster or undone. He received a lot of patronage from his peers and teacher's and he took this pretty well. Whenever he didn't understand something, he was willing to try to find answers. This led to some division among the Maesters: some thought he shouldn't be treated differently than his older counterparts, others thought he should have his childhood preserved, and unsurprisingly, Faendor gravitated towards the latter instructors. In particular, Maestor Arnor of the College of Illusion became like a father to the young lad, volunteering to oversee Faendor's course of instruction himself. Under Arnor, Faendor was scheduled into a track focused on fundamental magic, with him learning the basics from most of the colleges.
This proved to be an excellent choice as Faendor turned 16 and insisted he was given his own say in the classes he attended and that he should no longer be considered a ward of the Order. He fully enrolled in the College of Alteration at the same time as he enrolled in the College of Fabrication. Having already completed the basic course requirements for both colleges, Faendor was catapulted to Adept status. The intense workload at this time Faendor would recount as some of the hardest and least rewarding years of his life. Constantly having to prove himself to his peers or having to deal with classmates that assumed he was always correct and willing to help. He was called things like "genius" or "prodigy," and often enough they were used like a slur. He began to abuse alcohol and then a substance of his own creation known as morglorb. This dip in performance was acknowledge by the staff, but was generally explained as him biting off more than he could chew. Enrolling in two colleges was an unheard of thing, and there were a few who found a lot to be jealous of.
Despite the malignancies of his life, Faendor became promoted to Senior Adept three years later at the College of Fabrication. He was working directly under Maester Griffith at the time, a stoic and spartan individual with a proclivity for hyper-fixation. He was attempting to construct an enchantment that could be laid on a sword that would imbue the wielder with the experience and knowledge of command and combat that past wielders had possessed. A well known enchantment on the Royal Sword of House Regine. He had had the idea of using memory metal within the blade as a storage device and Faendor was really good at making memory metal. They were a good team. Faendor provided creative ideas and outside the box solutions and Maester Griffith would consider some of these sometimes. A year later they had created a sword that would alter its gravitational pull to levitate and fight. It had basic attacks programmed into it and based on the cut of the jewels in the pommel, could adopt further styles of fighting. Within the lab, sword fighting the ghost sword became a bit of a fun gag. The board considered this good enough work to graduate Faendor from the College of Fabrication, a mere three weeks before he would become a senior adept for the College of Alteration. Maester d'Imagio was new to the college and Faendor was his first charge. They both had grand dreams of a new type of material. They settled on finely enchanted grains of a crystal with a low melting point and insolubility in water. Inert at room temperature, in cold environments or when frozen, the material is able to be manipulated by basic alteration spells simultaneously on a grain by grain basis allowing for the synthesis of highly complex structures from the ground up. For their invention, Faendor was Graduated from the College of Alteration with honors.
He had been in touch with mages at other colleges at this time whose work he had heard about and he traveled between colleges for a time. Universally, he was disappointed by the erudite nature of the academics. In his eyes, they had become too focused on possibilities and their own schools of thought. There was too little application, too little cross-school interaction. He was tired of seeing brilliant conjurers incapable of simple fireball spells, brilliant arctic wizards brought low by runic magic, evokers hurling mighty magical bolts only to have their magic absorbed by warding cloaks and then turning to their knives when the magic failed. Turning back to his own upbringing, he knew the Medeis Order had a fairly well-rounded education, but he was still aware for example that the College of Recovery and Healing did not outsource to professors from the College of Illusion when it came time to teach their students to pacify unruly patients, they relied on their own textbooks and own internal teachings which could be well behind the current practices of the College of Illusion. He brought these examples and arguments back to the Medeis Order. Faendor's proposal was for a new school. He recognized the great value of diversifying abilities, but he wanted something with broad applications. He wanted magic to be seen as a method of problem solving, and not a thing done by old men in towers. The Order deliberated his proposal for a long while and settled on something of a much smaller scale. Faendor was named Maester Lortikai and was put in charge of a new class at the College of Evocation, which was broadly in charge of new students who hadn't decided a path anyway. His class was Practical Problem Solving and it was supposed to be an introductory course.
Faendor was a good Maester, very friendly and willing to work with students, but he was also a strict Maester, with very high expectations for the teenagers that walked through his doors. He spent a great deal of time outside of scheduled class times with students to shore up areas where they were lacking. As the years progressed, the other Maesters began to enjoy the varied abilities of their students. Often, senior adepts were told to seek out Maester Lortikai if there was a bit of knowledge that they ended up needing for a specific thing. It is important to note that Maester Lortikai was often minimally helpful in such encounters, but he was always able to connect the student to someone who had been working in that specific area for a while. He kept his fingers on the pulse of as many projects as he could, and he became famous for his "shadows", students who had been doing poorly in some thing who he brought along on visits to those at other colleges working on that thing. Around this time he also began to reach out to other wizarding schools, establishing contact with multiple magic users. His own senior adepts were a varied bunch; Faendor became much better at Evocation during his time at the college, but he tried to take on adepts who had projects unrelated to pure magic.
After a number of years, he again proposed his idea for a new college. He had made many friends within the Medeis Order and actually got to be a member of the deliberations this time around. The College of Applied Magics was a small and fundamentally experimental affair. It was no simple coincidence that the proposal came at the same time as the closing of the nearby Abathy Chapel and its acquisition by the Ffenen City Council. It was purchased and refitted by the Medeis Order and the classical, tall building became a Frankenstein's monster as Maester Lortikai added countless mechana and archana related tools. Faendor was not appointed as Archmage of the College, however, that position went to the conservative and well rounded Maester Borris. The elderly and newly appointed Archmage Borris was well-connected and proved to be the capable leader that the young college needed. He was practical and straightforward and well versed in the problems facing magic, sharing in Faedor's vision, but narrowing Maester Lortikai's exuberance into several concrete goals. Their first class contained only 4 students, the next contained 27, and within only a few years, the college was taking on nearly 100 students per year. Applied Magics rapidly became a new prestige school given it's small size and Borris' desire to keep a small class size, and given that students would often attend this college in conjunction with other colleges with a 23% dual enrollment rate. The expectations were high and the learning curve was steep, however, and the dropout rate has neared as high 60% some years.
Unfortunately, Archmage Borris would not see his 5th year as archmage. After attempting a particularly violent summoning spell designed to test the efficacy of certain runes, he became ill with acute summoning sickness. Despite receiving almost immediate treatment, complications from his old age led to a rapid deterioration of his quality of life. He died a week later. Faendor had agreed to assist with the rune test, but had been busy helping a student with a transfiguration assignment and had been late. He still holds responsibility for what happened. Promoted to Archmage Lortikai, Faendor put in place more rigorous screening, hoping to drop the burnout rates, which it did, but they still remained the highest of all the colleges in the Medeis Order. Administrative work began to eat up more and more of his time as well, forcing Faendor to quit teaching. He justified it to himself by doubling down on collaborative projects and extracting innovation from his campus.
The death of Empress Artemis II Regina and the subsequent instability had been well predicted by the mediums and politicians alike, although it was not well known how the situation would resolve itself. It was a few months before her death that Archmage Lortikai became aware of the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia, a few members of which with whom he became fast friends. During his visits to the capitol city, he would often seek them out, offering camaraderie, advice on golem repair, and news that he found relevant. He made preparations to be in the capitol on business on that fated day when she passed, but was held up due to a difficulty stabilizing the chassis of a proposed Ley Gate generator. He leaves today, in game, for the court in order to assists the Grand Order and their plan for a peaceful transition of power in any way.
RP Example: Currently in Vanished Wilderness, Was in New Civilizations, And here's an oldie but a goodie.
#SeizeTheThrone
Rannoria wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Alperen Kememli-Ozbey, Lord of Sogudere, Lord of Dugodir, Chieftain of Kememli and those under Sogudere, Blood-Captain of the Iron-Faced Ones
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)(Image)
Personality: While Alperen may be brash and not very diplomatically gifted, he is a man of honour. He swears to live by most of his moral code, and to protect his family and his lands. Almost never does he break his personal rules, and whatever he does break, he attempts to make amends for it, if he sees it fit. Because of his actions and his integrity, he is beloved by his fellow soldiers and his citizens. Although he is mostly in the right morally, his confidence in his own judgement and honour sometimes goes too far, and sometimes makes unfair decisions which he believes are right because he says so. He is also ambitious, seeking to expand his realm-within-a-realm, though he knows that this is a difficult task.
Skills: Alperen is a very skilled horseman, being born into a life where one is trained to ride horses when as young as possible. He is also very proficient with a lance, and although he is able to perform horse archery well, he is not the best at it. As a warrior, he is also trained in sword-fighting, and his battlefield prowess shows during battle. In terms of ruling land, he is not incompetent, though he does keep a circle of advisors with him before making any important decisions, and likes to delegate some day-to-day tasks to some people inside of his close circle.
House: Lord of House Kememli
Loyalties: As of currently, Alperen and House Kemenli do not openly express what they feel about House Regine's end and the rise of House Carnifex. Internally, they also don't have much to say, but they fear that Lord Carnifex's ruthlessness, cruelty, convenient position for power, and the rumours surrounding him cannot be good for the empire if he rules. Again, though, this opinion is rather minor, and so, for now, they stay out of that.
Biography:
Alparen Kememli, son of Aslan Kememli and Maya Ozbey, was born into the Chiefdom of Kememli, where some of the Omuler people reside. The Omuler people have had an interesting history, spanning the rise of their own smaller nations, into Omuleran (the land of the Omuler), until its downfall and integration into the Terran Empire. But this is not about the Omuler, is it? From a young age, Alparen was trained to be a warrior, in accordance to Omuler tradition. At a young age of 4, his father began training him to ride horses, and at age 6, he began archery. When he was older, he picked up the lance and the sword, practicing on straw dummies and with other boys of his age and men in his father's Blood-Company.
As Alparen grew, he thought he was only going to inherit Kememli. Kememli was only a small village, with a mixture of houses and traditional tents. There, Alparen knew that, although his life would be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, he would be safe. He would be able to protect his family, protect his people, and serve the lord who ruled over him: the lord of Sogudere. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do much in his life, but he came to accept that easily. That changed, though, when the lord of Sogudere died without an heir, and the lordship fell upon his father.
**NOTE: SKIP THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ HOW THE HOUSE KEMEMLI ACQUIRED SOGUDERE. (there's a note further down saying where to continue
When the lord of Sogudere died, he had not left behind any children. His parents were long gone, and he had no nieces or nephews. The only two potential successors were his brother and sister; the sister was married off to a local lord, and the brother was banished for attempting to overthrow the lord. This, of course, did not help the succession issue at all. Immediately, many chiefs under the realm of Sogudere began to plan, and everyone knew that only one chief could rule Sogudere in the end. After several months of fighting and diplomacy, only four people would be seen as the potential ruler of Sogudere and the lands under it. The first was Alparen's father, Aslan, who had gained the trust of many chiefs and called in many favours to gain support. This did not mean he was not ferocious on the battlefield, though, as he had also defeated other chiefdoms as well. The second was another chief who ruled the Chiefdom of Gele. Gele was the largest Chiefdom, and many people believed that they would rise to power, but unlike Alparen, the chief of Gele was not popular with the other chiefs. He was strong in battle, both in numbers and skill, but that was all he was good at. He crushed his opposition force, and burned down those who were especially unruly. The third and fourth were the previous lord's siblings. Although they were technically more legitimate, the chiefs would not let a banished man nor a lady from (now) another dynasty. The most decisive battle of the conflict was at Sogudere itself.
Although Sogudere had already fallen into the hands of the Chiefdom of Gele, there were still three other contenders for the throne. After hearing of his brother's death, the brother to the previous lord of Sogudere tried to curry favour with lords and would soon raise an army with what wealth he had left. The sister begged her husband to ride for Sogudere, and although the husband initially did not want to involve himself in a neighbouring lord's quarrel, he soon realised that holding a second, stronger and wealthier realm would be beneficial in the long run. And so, at the outskirts of Sogudere, three armies met. Although the brother had the largest army with him, he was a fool on the battlefield, and through a series of bad assaults, he had lost most of his men. The sister's army was doing well as she and her husband were both able to command well, but in a large volley of arrows, her husband was fatally wounded. The sister's army's morale dropped, and it was apparent that the Chiefdom of Gele would win the battle, but Aslan's army soon appeared. Aslan and his Blood-Company, along with the Blood-Companies and armies of his and the other chiefdoms, charged towards the battlefield. The cannon-like sounds of the horses' hooves stomping on the ground and the roars of men approaching the two weary armies was frightening, and it didn't end well for them. The brother and his men were all killed, and the sister along with a few of her soldiers were able to escape, only to never return. Sogudere was taken swiftly, and the few chiefs who had joined Gele defected. After realising the odds against him, the chief of Gele would accept Aslan as his lord, and so Aslan became lord of Sogudere.
**NOTE: CONTINUE HERE**
Now, Alparen would be looking towards a stronger, more open, and more ambitious future. Sugodere was (in its area) relatively strong. Quickly, Aslan launched an offensive against the weakened and weaker duchy of Dugodir, and citing revenge as his reason of war (which is reasonable in Omuler culture), his invasion was swift and successful, though the new chiefs under his rule were not happy. When his father died (only one year prior to him becoming 32), he was left with a strong realm of his own. It was under Terran rulership, of course, but it was still strong for him. With a group of warriors he knew from when he was younger appointed as his Blood-Company, and world to take on, Alparen will have to face the tribulations of ruling over angry chiefs and whatever his goals may have in store for him.
RP Example: (3, minimum, unless I know you)
#SeizeTheThrone
by Rannoria » Mon Jan 28, 2019 12:04 pm
Sraelyn wrote:First and foremost, thank you Khas for the vote of confidence.
Secondly, due to V O I D's absense, I've remained quite conservative with regards to some lore aspects, particularly religion.
Without furder ado, the following character apps have been accepted:Ormata wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Edda(Image)
Age: 29
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:Standing at 5’6” with a lithe figure, lacking many of the obvious qualities a woman might hold, Edda’s not what one would be stated as ‘perfect’ by any stretch of the imagination. Red hair is kept long and wild, in part due to the nature of her lifestyle, and her skin is pitted and marred by various scars and small cuts, developed both from her eating habits and from the thorns that one sometimes misses. Her eyes, instead of the normal scar tissue covering, are simply not there whatsoever, the area covered by a thick cloth.
Personality:
In terms of clothing, she prefers to wear simple dresses and comfortable shoes instead of the thicker layers one might have in more common society. A crown of roses is always worn by her, made by her own hands, though it is long since dead.
A young wolf is forever following her.Silent, due to the most obvious of reasons, and overall calm in the face of most which occurs about her, Edda’s the sort of individual to strike-out with wrath in a most rare manner. Plagued by the aspects of the forest which she has consumed, there is a mild suffering in the form of a fragmented unconscious, leading to frequent night terrors. She does, however, possess a vast intellect and an instinctive talent towards magic, something that is both natural towards her and gained through her consumption of spirits.
Skills:Well and fully capable in the mental arts, the method of consuming a spirit’s existence in order to garner more power being favored for gathering such, Edda’s able in reaching into another’s mind in order to find information or, in other circumstances, cut-away knowledge in another’s mind to cause a wipe, a gap in memory. In regards to summoning, she is novice and far less skilled than most others, while in the art of evocation, in fireballs and wreaths of flame, Edda can be considered competent. Due to the nature of her life, she rarely performs such violent and flashy actions, taking preference in the more silent methods of disposal. To this effect, both with tinkering of the lands about her and by magical methods, Edda has become capable in taking effect on air pressure, lessening the pressure against a person’s lungs to the point wherein they cannot breathe through the siphoning-away of oxygen. This can, however, be expanded upon to create a rapid vacuum by the rapid consuming of oxygen within a close distance, creating a deadspace of air about her and making a minor concussive blast.
House: N/A
Loyalties:Herself. She holds no love for House Regine nor Carnifex, though were she to become educated on the subject it’s entirely likely she would choose for House Regine’s or a House like so instead of one like House Carnifex.
Biography:Born in Eramauy, a fortress built among the Frigg Mountain Range, Edda’s earliest life experiences were those of living among the convent. Whether it was by a mother who could not keep or a father who would not give, whether it was by a cheating father whose wife could never know the exploits, whether it was by a whore could could never raise, the reason, the why never did matter to Edda. She was given away, a bundle left upon the doorstep who made not a singular sound. The nuns there took her in, took her in to raise and teach in the ways of celibacy and silence, the ways of prayer and praising. Her life there was quiet, for she never made a sound and only ever listened. At first the others thought her in shock, damaged and hurt by something or another, yet they could never make her speak a word. Some thought her to be a devil’s trap, a being who couldn’t speak for she had no soul to speak with, a demon whose strength lay in the ears, yet these few kept to themselves, afraid to a degree of what might occur were they to voice the concerns.
RP Example:#SeizeTheThrone
When she turned eighteen, Edda would be given the simpler tasks in life. She tended to the garden, tended to whatever food the convent could grow among the mountains, and was kept hidden away by the Sisters. They feared, some of the kinder beings, that if her mute nature would be brought to light that she would be viewed as a demon by some Inquisitorial passer, by some crusading knight who saw a demon in every corner, a devil in every fireplace. Such a thing succeeded for some years, yet Eramauy did not survive the winter, nor the storm, nor the strong arm of man. Raiders came from the plains and forests, desperate men who had been cast away from their own villages and towns that hungered for gold and more. They stalked up, up along the mountain path, a roguish few conning their way into the battlements with the lie that they were merely sheltering from the cold, needed food. These few bastards opened the doors quietly, cold steel bared on the hip, and ravaged the convent. The brave died with kitchen knives in their hands, the corpses defiled and deprived of dignity. The peaceful were used, the screams echoing down stone corridors. Edda hid, hid in a cellar until she could hide no longer.
An emotion burned in her, rage and hatred and revenge for what had been done, what will happen, an emotion the teachings had forever told her to ignore and yet welled inside her, inside the heart and soul. Power drew to her hands, the torches about her growing dim before being blown-away by an unseen wind, and in those very hands was there fire gathered between the finger-tips. Edda burst-forth, fire wreathed about her body, purging the bandits with no mercy. The others screamed, kept on screaming as they thought a Sister to be consumed by devilry, to be taken by the demons of hate, screamed and covered their eyes in terror. The smarter bandits grabbed ahold of hostages, thinking themselves safe behind, and yet Edda was still consumed by that rage, that rage of their cowardice and cruelty. In thar rage, she burned-away those before her, Sister and bandit together, burning them until all anyone would hear were screams. Of the two hundred who once lived in Eramauy, fourteen survived, Edda included. For her trespassing, for her use of a blessing in haste and murder, the goddess to which they praised, their patron Gaia, removed Edda’s eyes, plucking them out as one would pluck berries, and the young woman was forced to leave the convent, leave for to stay would be to remind the others of her anger, her murder.
Outside the gates, blind and mute, unable to call for help, Edda collapsed into the snow-covered ground, a shaking hand producing a circle, sealing it with a drop of blood, then a simple rune among the dirt and hard ground. She called forth a spirit, one of the lesser spirits, and it gathered itself before her, gathered it’s body with dirt and twigs, with droplets of blood and tears. It spoke into her mind and, thus, her first Contract was made...though it could hardly be called that. The spirit was a kind and, truthfully, a rather bored one at that, interested to a degree in helping merely for the sake of taking some minor spite at the Goddess who brought condemnation. It was not a very smart spirit, in all actuality, yet in any case did make the Contract. In exchange for some company, some sharing of bread and food, it would give her a measure of awareness about herself, a spacial knowledge of what was there. Her navigation down the mountain was a silent one, a lump of chippings and blood on her shoulder.
In the forests below, the area of the bandits, she slept a first night away, tucked away in a cave. Over several weeks, she would sleep there, the spirit with her bringing measures of food hunted away through one method or another, bundles of berries, and yet over time, Edda felt herself grow weaker and weaker, the spirit somehow becoming more and more active. One night, in a dream, she saw that same spirit, saw it and heard it speak, saw it eat away at a corpse. It ran away, ran away into the shadows of her mind, and that corpse was Edda, throat ripped away. On waking, she asked the spirit, the spirit who didn’t answer, instead lunging at her throat, shards of wood scorning flesh. Edda would have screamed, were she able, her hands clutching feebly at bits and pieces of dirt and rain, and her mind reached-out as well, grabbing ahold of the sensed spirit before her. She didn’t act, not at all, eating the spirit’s very essence before her in chunks. Edda would hunt the forests, finding more spirits and consuming them, as she had with the first. With each taken, new knowledge was gained, new power taken, and over time she became more and more capable. A wild wolf was found, a cub with an eaten mother, found and raised to become a puppet, and Edda lived there. She’s lived there since, the forest hers, the convent long dead, the fortress long since abandoned, and the bandits slaughtered.The Hierophancy wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Emon, Captain of the Silver Swords
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Calm, collected and friendly, Emon is a generally deferential and quiet person - he is not, however, without spine, nor ambition, and though he's no cold pragmatist or brutal psychopath he's made a few moral transgressions of his own to make it to where he is now. Still, he generally attempts to be morally sound, honest, and loyal to his employer, so long as they make their payments, an attitude reflected by his company.
Skills: Skillful with sword, buckler, bow, spear and pike, charismatic and proficient at both tactics and strategy, along with the basic finances and economic know-how necessary in running a free company. All-around clever person.
House: N/A
Loyalties: Loyal to whoever pays him and his company's wages. Believes in the Empire as an idea, if not necessarily it's current administration.
Biography:Emon was born to a family of turnip farmers within the exceedingly backwater county of Oeg, itself within the slightly less backwater duchy of Grenadiere. Their village, a quaint collection of earthen huts nestled against a particularly infertile patch of mountainside within a small valley known for little less than it's infertility, wasn't large enough to justify officially naming the place. When the need arose for it's residents to name their home, they usually referred to it by the singularly uncreative title of Turnip Farm, or, if seeking to impress, Turnip Farms. Needless to say, young Emon's childhood wasn't very eventful.
Even in the meager turnip fields of Turnip Farm, however, the young Emon's cleverness was recognized among the village serfs, whose stories and oral tradition, whilst admittedly not particularly extensive, were mastered by little Emon with startling speed. Startling for a community of relatively inbred turnip farmers, at least. And so, at around twelve years of age, Emon was packed off with a visiting priest and a sack of precious turnips, instructed to go on and learn to read, write, pray, and other such clever things, so as to make more of himself than he could farming turnips. Although diligent enough to start teaching Emon his letters in exchange for his vegetable riches, the priest was quick to sell the boy, or more specifically a contract of indentured servitude, to the first wealthy enough township he came upon, posing as the boys father. Emon, though not particularly fond of being sold, took to his labors well enough, helping to clear and develop farmland for one of Oeg's wealthier townships, the walled village of Oegsburg, whose modest industries consisted of forestry, farming and operating illegal mines on Dwarfish property. After he finished paying off his contract at around fifteen, Emon continued working various small jobs as a manual laborer, and eventually apprenticing under the towns only priest and scribe, but quickly grew bored of the temple's meager library and the meager town without it. And so, after bidding the priest farewell, Emon set off for the "great" city of Langsburg at sixteen years of age.
In Langsburg, Emon once again sought work as an apprentice scribe, working as a courier and teamster when the city's handful of professional men of letters didn't require assistants. Langsburg, however, much like Oegsburg, didn't prove to be particularly stimulating, and before long Emon found himself once again lusting after greater things. When the ragged free company known as the Silver Swords came limping into Langsburg Harbor, bloodied from some recent conflict further south and seeking to replenish their ranks, Emon signed on immediately, eager for adventure at eighteen. A literate man, Emon was immediately assigned the position of records-keeper and master of coin, the last occupant of those offices having perished to some monstrous foe.
The Silver Swords departed not long after, and determined to return to their roots after their bloody foray into the petty dynastic squabbles of the south, sailed on hired sail north, to the savage lands of Vlka, where the enemy was more oft beast than man. There the company took relatively small contracts - guarding settlements, eradicating packs of wolves and wolfmen, driving off bandits and escorting caravans. The company took on greater challenges too, when they presented themselves, hunting beasts more fell than simple wolves when they threatened communities with coin, fur or amber with which to pay. During this time Emon took to arms near as quick as he had to letters, and soon enough counted himself as among the company's better warriors and hunters, though his duties as company scribe took precedence. In his twenty fourth year, Emon was appointed a serjeant by the Captain at the time, Vexus Andoria, and given command of the company's van, a position in which he earned no small martial distinction, being credited with slaying the bandit Aulio the Bear in his twenty fifth year, and of defeating the werewolf known locally as the Grey Shadow that same year.
Both Emon and his company's greatest achievement at arms would occur later, however, in his twelfth year with the Silver Swords, when they chose to take a particularly risky - and rich - contract being offered by an eccentric, if cautious, forest-lord. Their task was simple - track down and kill the so-called White Lord, a beast more legend than fact said to lurk in the frozen, barren woods to the far north, surrounded by an army of abominations. Tales differ on the exact identity of the White Lord - some claimed him a wayward sorcerer, others a great, snow white werewolf, and many believed him to be an ancient vampire, attended to by an army of undead thralls. Even those who remained of the Silver Swords, upon their return, seemed unsure of what they had battled, though all agreed it was terrible, snow white and dreadfully strong, and that it was accompanied by dozens if not hundreds of white wolf-things. They also agreed upon what transpired after the Silver Swords, bone-weary, cold and low on supplies, stumbled upon the icy clearing in which the White Lord held court. Namely, a bloody, chaotic and costly battle in the snow, which seemed certainly lost after the White Lord, barreling through the hastily assembled company ranks like an avalanche, plucked Captain Andoria off his garron and ripped him in two, tossing the bleeding halves to either side and setting upon the shocked company spear. Emon, however, did not despair, instead calmly taking up the much-nicked silver sword that gave his company it's name and, at the head of his van, charging the fell beast, which he engaged in fierce battle before decapitating. Without their abhorrent chieftain, it is said that the other beasts were easily driven back and ridden down, their pelts, along with the shaggy white hide (whether it was his skin or already a cloak is a matter of fierce contention among the Silver Swords) of the fallen Lord, which was bestowed upon Emon, along with the silver sword and accompanying Captaincy.
After delivering the White Lord's monstrous head (mantle-ready) and receiving his reward, Emon immediately set forth southwards, determined to make something of his little free company. Collecting new recruits along the way, the sellswords made the slow march south, taking what jobs they could as they went and seeking newer, more profitable contracts. They happened to be in great luck, as only a year into their latest foray south, the Empire was thrown into a succession crisis, and contracts were suddenly common as weeds. Emon, ever a man for stealing the march, went with one of the first one's offered - a simple contract of service to a certain fishy fellow...
The Silver Swords: The Silver Swords are a relatively new company, founded about a century ago in Vlka. Initially a simple militia, the Silver Swords were created by a small band of ambitious Northern homesteaders as a means to defend their newly founded settlements and named after the four blades their pooled funds were able to afford - three simple steel swords coated in a thin layer of silver and one blade of solid silver-alloy. The militia had some success, quickly assembling and setting forth whenever one of the tiny townships or homesteads in their little corner of the North called for aid, pushing back countless wolf-thing incursions. However, as their small settlements grew, so too did the attacks, and before long for every five homesteads, ringforts or colonies saved from destruction, one was lost, fallen before the Silver Swords could arrive or overwhelmed. Within a decade of their little colonies founding, it had been reduced to half it's peak size, and by the end of that year, it was destroyed. The Silver Swords, however, were not - incorporating the survivors of their failed colony, they set forth, homeless now, but eager for vengeance, and vowing to prevent more men from being driven from their homes. The company marched and rode from town to town, village to village, aiding in their conflicts with the forest about them. At first, they accepted only what was offered freely, living off of charity. As the years rolled on, however, and the company waxed, waned and changed, they began charging for their services, eventually becoming a mercenary company in all but name, and then in that as well. A new generation of Silver Swords, fed up with the meager offerings of meat, fur, wood and amber they received in exchange for hunting overgrown dogs, chose to hunt bigger contracts, aiding local Vlkan nobility in their petty disputes for a reasonable price. Even in this, however, margins were thin, and so the company headed south, to a land where the grass was greener, the weather warmer and the conflicts both bloodier and more frequent. There they remained, marching back and forth from city to city, war to war, dying and recruiting and killing and dying some more, fighting bandits, vampires, lizardmen, armed peasants, and, of course, other free companies. In their fifth decade down-south, however, the company fought a battle that nearly proved their end upon a field of fire and death. The Silver Swords who emerged from that conflict were a significantly more humble breed than those who had entered, and their newly elected Captain, Vexus Andoria, decided that it was time for the Silver Swords to leave behind the brutal thirst for gold that had drawn them south and return to what they were founded for - killing beasts. And so it was for a good ten years, before his death and the assumption of a new Captain, one who reignited his company's ambition and led them south once more.
The Silver Swords are a diverse company, it's members reflecting the band's history, drawn from all across the Empire, though most are from it's Eastern realms. Their specialty lies within the company's pike-and-bow, though the Silver Swords possess mean divisions of cavalry and mounted archers as well. The company numbers 700 fighting men in total - 150 of which are mounted, 300 of which are armed with pikes, 150 with bow, and 100 as heavy men-at-arms.
RP Example:
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=445172&p=34248575#p34248575
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=426827&p=32811420#p32811420
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=451306&p=34751797#p34751797
#SeizeTheThroneSkarten wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Grand Prince Phílippos Karamanius Javinius Naravius of Aurinia, Protector of the West, Duke Of The Ivory Sea, Lord Of Karathia & The Palace Of Dusk
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: The best word to describe Phílippos Javinius is charismatic. Since young, the Grand Prince has proved himself to have an extremely charming character, becoming beloved to his people. More than that, he is a patron of the intellectual arts, having built many libraries all around his land and written several books himself. Always active, the young noble has a history of being an persuasive negotiator, often attempting to convince useful people to do actions as to aid him in his objectives.
Skills:
Great Swordsmanship
Excellent Military Leadership
Governing/Management Mastership
Horsemanship/Horseback Combat
House:The Karamanai Dynasty
Loyalties: The Karamanai Dynasty and Aurinia in general has always been unhappy with the foreign rule. Furthermore, Phílippo's allegiance is to his home nation only, having no fealty to the Terran Throne
Biography: Phíllipos Javinius Karamanius Scartenius was born in the year 12.317 (AFTER TERRA) as the firstborn to the ruling members of the Grand Principality of Aurinia, his father being Grand Prince Gallerius Karamanius VIII and his mother Princess-Consort Aemilia Flaviana II. His early life was simple, being nursed by the many servants that worked at the palace, taking care of him while his parents attended to their businesses in the court. During those years, he would more often than not spend his days playing in the halls and corridors of his home, albeit with little interaction with other children.
As the heir hit the age of seven, he was finally given an tutor to oversee his education, an well-known scholar whose teachings were very popular through the lands of the Empire. Under his instruction and tutelage, Phílippos would very soon discover his love for literature, resulting in countless of his days being spent in the Palace's library, an practice which would continue throughout his whole life. In that year, too, would begin his other courses that would teach him in his path to become the Grand Prince of Aurinia, such as swordsmanship, management, an introduction to the overall court life in the Terran Empire, etc.
This routine would continue for several years, with the Aurinian Noble becoming more and more skilled in the trades of his family, acquiring superb experience and ability in many subjects, such as horsemanship, dueling, military strategy, management between others. As his age now permitted it, he would begin to go with his parents on more trips, travelling through the realm he would one day rule, from the agitation of the Ivory Sea Coast to the stark silence and cold of the Scartenian Mountains. Albeit amazed by these scenarios, Phílippos could not help but wonder of the lands that lied beyond the Xarai Desert, whom he had only read and heard about.
As his fourteenth year came along, Phílippos finally became an adult as per law, being allowed now to fully take on his job as a aristocrat and heir of Aurinia. It was at this time that he showed himself to be an natural born leader, in an certain occasion having been said to command his retinue against an notorious free company who had turned to plundering due to the long-lasting piece in the region, who had not seen a war for a long time, and thus were not recruited by any government. With his relatively small force, he is said to have defeated the enemy even in odds of Three to One (Though some say this is an exaggeration).
At around the age of sixteenth, an tragedy hit the Karamanai Dynasty, as both Gallerius VI, Phílippo's father, and Aemilia Flaviana II, his mother, fell heavily ill to Tuberculosis after they were infected while on a excursion on the Scartenian Mountains to visit an very particular castle, dying only a few months later. This meant that the throne of Aurinia and the position of Grand Prince were now left to the young now orphaned Phílippos.
And like that, his reign began. Although shaky at first due to the sudden death of his parents and inevitable turmoil that rose around it, the situation would quickly stabilize itself, with Phílippos proving to the Aurinian court that he was indeed skilled enough to be in the position of Grand Prince. It was also at this time that his marriage was arranged with the Duchess Adriana Ornaviana, who a few years later would die in childbirth, while the heir to the Grand Principality and Phílippo's son, Tiberius Karamanius Javinius, survived.
With his title secured and an heir, the sovereignty of the Charismatic Grand Prince was now assured, and his rule could truly begin. Economical reforms soon followed, together with valuable metal mines and grand Infrastructure projects, such as roads, forts and whatnot, increasing greatly the revenue due to the increased commerce. More than that, the Army's size and budget was increased, allowing for more men in their ranks and better equipment to be used.
Overall, Aurinia had made many advancements in these years of government under Phílippos, with their already large fortune increasing considerably. Yet, in the end, they were still a vassal, and they were still obligated to pay large tributes to the Imperial Throne, whose thirst for gold and valuable had given them an certain unpopularity in the region. But with the death of the last ruler of House Regine, things in Gaia were changing, as uncertainty came together with the possibility of life under the Carnifex. Only the future would tell what the gods had planned for the Land of Gold and Metal, and in particular,for the Charismatic Grand Prince.
Because, as they always say..
Omnia enim possibilia in Terra Auri et Metalum
RP Example:This Was the Most Recent RP i Could find]https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34780128&hilit=Galacius#p34780128
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34668548&hilit=Galacius#p34668548
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34932701&hilit=Galacius#p34932701
#SeizeTheThroneMistolia wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Grand Mayor Tellerio Ulvanis the Greedy of Fulvast, Lord Provost of the Fulvast Marches, Lord Mayor of Ungrio, Princeps Publicanus, Patriarch of the House Ulvanis, Lord of Ulvanis and 13th Holy Knight of the Fulvast Scrolls
Age: 53
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Old, fat and greasy. Straggly combover hair atop a sallow and bloated face. A gouty, plump body, always bedecked in the richest clothing. Many fake teeth to replace those lost due to his rich diet.
Personality: Most know Tellerio by his greed. Completely unscrupulous, Tellerio has stopped at nothing to increase the wealth of himself and his house. Completely uncivil and impolite. His behaviour has made him very unpopular with almost everyone since his election (which he won largely by bribing the Serene Electoral Chamber). His greed has been satisfied largely by his cunning and intelligence - although no great genius, he is shrewd and knows a good business opportunity when he sees one.
Skills: Possession of the Vaults of the Grand Mayor of the City of Fulvast, which contain items of great wealth and many invaluable tomes.
House: House Ulvanis, a rich patrician family in the Grand City of Fulvast
Loyalties: Money, House Ulvanis, to an extent the Grand City of Fulvast
Biography:
Born in 12,292 AT to Lord Tellerio Ulvanis of Ulvanis and his wife Azalea, Tellerio grew up in luxury, scion of the richest house in Fulvast. Afforded the best tutors possible, Tellerio seemed bound to do well, and for the most part, he did. Tellerio learnt three languages, and gained a good understanding of mathematics, although he never showed any interest, or aptitude, for subjects such as Theology, Rhetoric or Philosophy. At sixteen, Tellerio was sent to the Throne-City to negotiate trade deals with merchants there, which he did so successfully that his father granted him charters to handle the House of Ulvanis' dealings in slaves and mining. It was in these trades that Tellerio became notorious for his vile and avaricious character.
In 12,320 AT, at the age of 28, Tellerio inherited the titles Lord Ulvanis of Ulvanis, Patriarch of the House Ulvanis, and Holy Knight of the Scrolls of Fulvast from his father, who had died in a riding accident. Tellerio quickly set about expanding his influence within the Grand City, not a hard job considering the wealth and power of the House Ulvanis. By 12,326 AT, Tellerio had ensured that the House Ulvanis had trade monopolies on more than half of goods that flowed through Fulvast. By this point he owned roughly 2,000 slaves. His power made him much resented throughout the city, however a system of bribes, extortion and threats meant that few dared to challenge him.
When the Grand Mayor died in 12,331, Tellerio quickly made sure that the Serene Electoral Chamber, composed of the highest officials in the city as well as some of the richest merchants (many of whom were on Tellerio's payroll) and the most important clergymen and military officers, voted for him, in what was criticised (by those who dared do so) as a completely unfair and illegitimate election based entirely on bribery and extortion. They were right. Tellerio used his mayoralty to enrich his house and himself, while enjoying the many trappings that power brought. A vast new palace was built in the centre of the city, by the main market square, which had a huge new statue of him placed at the centre.While Tellerio's businesses brought many riches to the city, the increasingly corrupt and autocratic government did not have popular support, and facing a popular revolt, in 12,340 AT, Tellerio announced that Fulvast would attack its age-old rival, Ungrio. The people's loyalty to Fulvast, and hatred of Ungrio, overpowered their hatred for Tellerio. With a large mercenary army, Tellerio conquered and sacked the City of Ungrio, declaring himself Lord Mayor of Ungrio. In the five years since this war, Fulvast has stagnated. Tellerio has become increasingly decadent, and has dedicated less and less time to actually governing. He has raised taxes to fund his extravagant lifestyle, while letting his own business, which had become the heart of Fulvast's economy, sit immobile. His position looks increasingly tenuous, and even some of his many children seem ready to turn against him.
RP Example: Most are from other websites:
-GameofThronesRP on Reddit
-EmuWarFlashbacks RP on Reddit
-Mock House of Commons on Reddit
-Newly arrived in 2017 British political simulation on this website
#SeizeTheThroneAchidyemay wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Archmage Faendor Lortikai
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Smart, witty and fun loving with a penchant for creativity and zest. Faendor likes things new, exciting, and under control, and he has a matching personality. He is described as passionate and affable and is known for his keen interest in helping others. He likes to keep moving and he feels that if he isn't doing anything then he is falling behind. Generally inexhaustible, he brings positivity, wisdom, and a sense of equality to every room he enters.
Skills: Considered one of the most talented magic users of this age, if not the most dynamic, Faendor is known for his inter-disciplinary approach, mixing the different schools and types of magic together to more specifically suit his needs. He would claim that his best talent is not with magic, but with people, bringing together disparate groups as a way of better understanding magic. He is one of few mages actively engaged in the creation of new spells.
House: The Carn-Laer Caravan
Loyalties: To the Medeis Order, specifically the College of Applied Magics, and the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia
Biography: Faendor Lortikai was born a member of the Carn-Laer Caravan as the third child, second son, of a family of storytellers. His family was known for it's recounting of Western History, specifically the Battles of Lorgasmus and the rise of the Arinian's to power. His birth was late in the night, but well attended; Marda Free, one of the caravan's most famed midwives, oversaw the birth. She recognized the characteristic golden aura within the child and his magical potential almost immediately, recounting with glee the long histories of those born with golden auras. Typically, it was an honor exclusive to the royal family, but it did occasionally manifest outside that lineage, and when it did it was a sign of really good things. The child was blessed, she said. Their section of the caravan had a minor celebration to welcome the child, as was custom, the next day. Many who came to see the baby congratulated the parents on their third, although those from further along who had heard of his miraculous nature were disappointed by the baby's average appearance.
The first many years of his life were good, he was loved by his parents, and he seemed to possess a good mind, always appreciated by the Rosha. His favorite story growing up was Lilia of Karathia's defeat of the Bear Lords, he liked bears. As a young child he asked a lot of questions, and he became known throughout the caravan as "the asking kid". He didn't seem to have the usual ability for story telling, however, and when his parents asked for him to recount the stories, he would often give flat synopsis, almost immediately losing interest unless something felt off, and then he would ask questions of his parents. When his parents pressed for details, he could usually answer their questions, and as he grew older he was more likely to be right, but the one sentence answers would plague his family for years. Faendor's family also found his general curiosity and lack of focus to be troublesome. He wouldn't stick near the wagon, travelling the length of the caravan, and when his legs came fully under him he would hardly stick near the caravan at all. Not long after this they were travelling through the Free City of Ffenen, home to the Medeis Order. Marda Free had evidently been talking with one of the mages there and Faendor was asked to swing by.
Typically magical potential is unlocked via tremendous focus and months if not years of contemplation and meditation (bored kids do it all the time), or through great physical or emotional trauma, where the internal magical abilities, or Aura/Mana, of a person unleashes itself as a form of self-protection. The mage, Maester Fernson, was quick to quell young Faendor's growing fear of the large college. He filled in the youth about how the college used a proven, safe, and reliable method for unlocking potential for nearly a millennia now. After a quick demonstration of illusion magic, the young child was hooked, and very eager to be Awakened. That week he said goodbye to his family. They were worried about him leaving the caravan, as they didn't particularly understand what it was that he would do, but they understood the prestige of the Medeis Order and they understood that this was their child's destiny. The caravan would be staying in Ffenen for a while anyway. The city had always been good to the Carn-Laer, and this gave Faendar the best of both worlds, as it were, even towards the end of the week when he was living almost exclusively within the dorms.
Faendar's awakening would be well attended. 8 years was half the general acceptance age, and while there were records of even younger children being awakened, those records were covered in dust. In the main forum of the College of Evocation, where these things occurred, those mages that could were in attendance and students stretched out into the hallway. An awakening in and of itself was a rare sight, typically students entering the college had already demonstrated magical aptitude, so the boy's awakening was the talk of Ffenen. There was a lot of chatter in the antechamber as Maester Fernson and young Faendor climbed the small central dais. A stone table covered in arcane symbols that glimmered dully dominated the center. Faendor was lifted by two adepts onto the table. The markings grew brighter as Maester Fernson raised his hands over the youth, a light purple fog dripping from his fingers, wrapping Faendor in what to the boy felt like cotton. It was everywhere, mummifying the boy. Faendor found it getting harder and harder to breath, his breaths were shallow, his heart was slow, there was this terrible bliss and powerlessness slipping over him, the air smelled of thyme. Then the mummified child levitated off the stone, arcane symbols alive, twisting and arching like so many snakes. Faendor lost consciousness, Fernson took a step back. The light purple magic was shot through with golden sparks, the fluffy substance cracked and bloated.
"Avert your gaze!" Maester Fernson directed, a tone of power and control in his voice that his body did not reflect. "Now!" He shouted to the adept assistants, who rapidly raised their arms to throw up a smoke screen. It made little difference, there was a thunderclap as the cotton failed and Faendor was released, haloed in golden light that cut through the smokescreen like light through a shadow. He levitated briefly, his eyes were solid disks of gold, his body wreathed in extra arms and legs, there was a humming and chorus that permeated the atmosphere and the smell of thyme had been cut through with the smell of freshly chopped pine. Then Faendor fell onto the table and bounced off onto the floor.
The College of Recovery and Healing was a lovely place. There was lots of natural light and windows and the walls curved and arched like a tall, melted candle. The place was uniformly lit by a powerful illumination spell set into the marblework and the air smelled slightly of cinnamon. Faendor had broken his arm in the fall and had suffered a concussion. Thankfully, the skilled physicians and his own youthful resilience put him on the mend quickly. Which was good because his classes started almost immediately. Faendor was an excited and eager learner, and according to most Maesters, a delight to have in class. He did well in most practicals and tests, although his performance on homework was usually lackluster or undone. He received a lot of patronage from his peers and teacher's and he took this pretty well. Whenever he didn't understand something, he was willing to try to find answers. This led to some division among the Maesters: some thought he shouldn't be treated differently than his older counterparts, others thought he should have his childhood preserved, and unsurprisingly, Faendor gravitated towards the latter instructors. In particular, Maestor Arnor of the College of Illusion became like a father to the young lad, volunteering to oversee Faendor's course of instruction himself. Under Arnor, Faendor was scheduled into a track focused on fundamental magic, with him learning the basics from most of the colleges.
This proved to be an excellent choice as Faendor turned 16 and insisted he was given his own say in the classes he attended and that he should no longer be considered a ward of the Order. He fully enrolled in the College of Alteration at the same time as he enrolled in the College of Fabrication. Having already completed the basic course requirements for both colleges, Faendor was catapulted to Adept status. The intense workload at this time Faendor would recount as some of the hardest and least rewarding years of his life. Constantly having to prove himself to his peers or having to deal with classmates that assumed he was always correct and willing to help. He was called things like "genius" or "prodigy," and often enough they were used like a slur. He began to abuse alcohol and then a substance of his own creation known as morglorb. This dip in performance was acknowledge by the staff, but was generally explained as him biting off more than he could chew. Enrolling in two colleges was an unheard of thing, and there were a few who found a lot to be jealous of.
Despite the malignancies of his life, Faendor became promoted to Senior Adept three years later at the College of Fabrication. He was working directly under Maester Griffith at the time, a stoic and spartan individual with a proclivity for hyper-fixation. He was attempting to construct an enchantment that could be laid on a sword that would imbue the wielder with the experience and knowledge of command and combat that past wielders had possessed. A well known enchantment on the Royal Sword of House Regine. He had had the idea of using memory metal within the blade as a storage device and Faendor was really good at making memory metal. They were a good team. Faendor provided creative ideas and outside the box solutions and Maester Griffith would consider some of these sometimes. A year later they had created a sword that would alter its gravitational pull to levitate and fight. It had basic attacks programmed into it and based on the cut of the jewels in the pommel, could adopt further styles of fighting. Within the lab, sword fighting the ghost sword became a bit of a fun gag. The board considered this good enough work to graduate Faendor from the College of Fabrication, a mere three weeks before he would become a senior adept for the College of Alteration. Maester d'Imagio was new to the college and Faendor was his first charge. They both had grand dreams of a new type of material. They settled on finely enchanted grains of a crystal with a low melting point and insolubility in water. Inert at room temperature, in cold environments or when frozen, the material is able to be manipulated by basic alteration spells simultaneously on a grain by grain basis allowing for the synthesis of highly complex structures from the ground up. For their invention, Faendor was Graduated from the College of Alteration with honors.
He had been in touch with mages at other colleges at this time whose work he had heard about and he traveled between colleges for a time. Universally, he was disappointed by the erudite nature of the academics. In his eyes, they had become too focused on possibilities and their own schools of thought. There was too little application, too little cross-school interaction. He was tired of seeing brilliant conjurers incapable of simple fireball spells, brilliant arctic wizards brought low by runic magic, evokers hurling mighty magical bolts only to have their magic absorbed by warding cloaks and then turning to their knives when the magic failed. Turning back to his own upbringing, he knew the Medeis Order had a fairly well-rounded education, but he was still aware for example that the College of Recovery and Healing did not outsource to professors from the College of Illusion when it came time to teach their students to pacify unruly patients, they relied on their own textbooks and own internal teachings which could be well behind the current practices of the College of Illusion. He brought these examples and arguments back to the Medeis Order. Faendor's proposal was for a new school. He recognized the great value of diversifying abilities, but he wanted something with broad applications. He wanted magic to be seen as a method of problem solving, and not a thing done by old men in towers. The Order deliberated his proposal for a long while and settled on something of a much smaller scale. Faendor was named Maester Lortikai and was put in charge of a new class at the College of Evocation, which was broadly in charge of new students who hadn't decided a path anyway. His class was Practical Problem Solving and it was supposed to be an introductory course.
Faendor was a good Maester, very friendly and willing to work with students, but he was also a strict Maester, with very high expectations for the teenagers that walked through his doors. He spent a great deal of time outside of scheduled class times with students to shore up areas where they were lacking. As the years progressed, the other Maesters began to enjoy the varied abilities of their students. Often, senior adepts were told to seek out Maester Lortikai if there was a bit of knowledge that they ended up needing for a specific thing. It is important to note that Maester Lortikai was often minimally helpful in such encounters, but he was always able to connect the student to someone who had been working in that specific area for a while. He kept his fingers on the pulse of as many projects as he could, and he became famous for his "shadows", students who had been doing poorly in some thing who he brought along on visits to those at other colleges working on that thing. Around this time he also began to reach out to other wizarding schools, establishing contact with multiple magic users. His own senior adepts were a varied bunch; Faendor became much better at Evocation during his time at the college, but he tried to take on adepts who had projects unrelated to pure magic.
After a number of years, he again proposed his idea for a new college. He had made many friends within the Medeis Order and actually got to be a member of the deliberations this time around. The College of Applied Magics was a small and fundamentally experimental affair. It was no simple coincidence that the proposal came at the same time as the closing of the nearby Abathy Chapel and its acquisition by the Ffenen City Council. It was purchased and refitted by the Medeis Order and the classical, tall building became a Frankenstein's monster as Maester Lortikai added countless mechana and archana related tools. Faendor was not appointed as Archmage of the College, however, that position went to the conservative and well rounded Maester Borris. The elderly and newly appointed Archmage Borris was well-connected and proved to be the capable leader that the young college needed. He was practical and straightforward and well versed in the problems facing magic, sharing in Faedor's vision, but narrowing Maester Lortikai's exuberance into several concrete goals. Their first class contained only 4 students, the next contained 27, and within only a few years, the college was taking on nearly 100 students per year. Applied Magics rapidly became a new prestige school given it's small size and Borris' desire to keep a small class size, and given that students would often attend this college in conjunction with other colleges with a 23% dual enrollment rate. The expectations were high and the learning curve was steep, however, and the dropout rate has neared as high 60% some years.
Unfortunately, Archmage Borris would not see his 5th year as archmage. After attempting a particularly violent summoning spell designed to test the efficacy of certain runes, he became ill with acute summoning sickness. Despite receiving almost immediate treatment, complications from his old age led to a rapid deterioration of his quality of life. He died a week later. Faendor had agreed to assist with the rune test, but had been busy helping a student with a transfiguration assignment and had been late. He still holds responsibility for what happened. Promoted to Archmage Lortikai, Faendor put in place more rigorous screening, hoping to drop the burnout rates, which it did, but they still remained the highest of all the colleges in the Medeis Order. Administrative work began to eat up more and more of his time as well, forcing Faendor to quit teaching. He justified it to himself by doubling down on collaborative projects and extracting innovation from his campus.
The death of Empress Artemis II Regina and the subsequent instability had been well predicted by the mediums and politicians alike, although it was not well known how the situation would resolve itself. It was a few months before her death that Archmage Lortikai became aware of the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia, a few members of which with whom he became fast friends. During his visits to the capitol city, he would often seek them out, offering camaraderie, advice on golem repair, and news that he found relevant. He made preparations to be in the capitol on business on that fated day when she passed, but was held up due to a difficulty stabilizing the chassis of a proposed Ley Gate generator. He leaves today, in game, for the court in order to assists the Grand Order and their plan for a peaceful transition of power in any way.
RP Example: Currently in Vanished Wilderness, Was in New Civilizations, And here's an oldie but a goodie.
#SeizeTheThroneRannoria wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Alperen Kememli-Ozbey, Lord of Sogudere, Lord of Dugodir, Chieftain of Kememli and those under Sogudere, Blood-Captain of the Iron-Faced Ones
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)(Image)
Personality: While Alperen may be brash and not very diplomatically gifted, he is a man of honour. He swears to live by most of his moral code, and to protect his family and his lands. Almost never does he break his personal rules, and whatever he does break, he attempts to make amends for it, if he sees it fit. Because of his actions and his integrity, he is beloved by his fellow soldiers and his citizens. Although he is mostly in the right morally, his confidence in his own judgement and honour sometimes goes too far, and sometimes makes unfair decisions which he believes are right because he says so. He is also ambitious, seeking to expand his realm-within-a-realm, though he knows that this is a difficult task.
Skills: Alperen is a very skilled horseman, being born into a life where one is trained to ride horses when as young as possible. He is also very proficient with a lance, and although he is able to perform horse archery well, he is not the best at it. As a warrior, he is also trained in sword-fighting, and his battlefield prowess shows during battle. In terms of ruling land, he is not incompetent, though he does keep a circle of advisors with him before making any important decisions, and likes to delegate some day-to-day tasks to some people inside of his close circle.
House: Lord of House Kememli
Loyalties: As of currently, Alperen and House Kemenli do not openly express what they feel about House Regine's end and the rise of House Carnifex. Internally, they also don't have much to say, but they fear that Lord Carnifex's ruthlessness, cruelty, convenient position for power, and the rumours surrounding him cannot be good for the empire if he rules. Again, though, this opinion is rather minor, and so, for now, they stay out of that.
Biography:
Alparen Kememli, son of Aslan Kememli and Maya Ozbey, was born into the Chiefdom of Kememli, where some of the Omuler people reside. The Omuler people have had an interesting history, spanning the rise of their own smaller nations, into Omuleran (the land of the Omuler), until its downfall and integration into the Terran Empire. But this is not about the Omuler, is it? From a young age, Alparen was trained to be a warrior, in accordance to Omuler tradition. At a young age of 4, his father began training him to ride horses, and at age 6, he began archery. When he was older, he picked up the lance and the sword, practicing on straw dummies and with other boys of his age and men in his father's Blood-Company.
As Alparen grew, he thought he was only going to inherit Kememli. Kememli was only a small village, with a mixture of houses and traditional tents. There, Alparen knew that, although his life would be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, he would be safe. He would be able to protect his family, protect his people, and serve the lord who ruled over him: the lord of Sogudere. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do much in his life, but he came to accept that easily. That changed, though, when the lord of Sogudere died without an heir, and the lordship fell upon his father.
**NOTE: SKIP THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ HOW THE HOUSE KEMEMLI ACQUIRED SOGUDERE. (there's a note further down saying where to continue
When the lord of Sogudere died, he had not left behind any children. His parents were long gone, and he had no nieces or nephews. The only two potential successors were his brother and sister; the sister was married off to a local lord, and the brother was banished for attempting to overthrow the lord. This, of course, did not help the succession issue at all. Immediately, many chiefs under the realm of Sogudere began to plan, and everyone knew that only one chief could rule Sogudere in the end. After several months of fighting and diplomacy, only four people would be seen as the potential ruler of Sogudere and the lands under it. The first was Alparen's father, Aslan, who had gained the trust of many chiefs and called in many favours to gain support. This did not mean he was not ferocious on the battlefield, though, as he had also defeated other chiefdoms as well. The second was another chief who ruled the Chiefdom of Gele. Gele was the largest Chiefdom, and many people believed that they would rise to power, but unlike Alparen, the chief of Gele was not popular with the other chiefs. He was strong in battle, both in numbers and skill, but that was all he was good at. He crushed his opposition force, and burned down those who were especially unruly. The third and fourth were the previous lord's siblings. Although they were technically more legitimate, the chiefs would not let a banished man nor a lady from (now) another dynasty. The most decisive battle of the conflict was at Sogudere itself.
Although Sogudere had already fallen into the hands of the Chiefdom of Gele, there were still three other contenders for the throne. After hearing of his brother's death, the brother to the previous lord of Sogudere tried to curry favour with lords and would soon raise an army with what wealth he had left. The sister begged her husband to ride for Sogudere, and although the husband initially did not want to involve himself in a neighbouring lord's quarrel, he soon realised that holding a second, stronger and wealthier realm would be beneficial in the long run. And so, at the outskirts of Sogudere, three armies met. Although the brother had the largest army with him, he was a fool on the battlefield, and through a series of bad assaults, he had lost most of his men. The sister's army was doing well as she and her husband were both able to command well, but in a large volley of arrows, her husband was fatally wounded. The sister's army's morale dropped, and it was apparent that the Chiefdom of Gele would win the battle, but Aslan's army soon appeared. Aslan and his Blood-Company, along with the Blood-Companies and armies of his and the other chiefdoms, charged towards the battlefield. The cannon-like sounds of the horses' hooves stomping on the ground and the roars of men approaching the two weary armies was frightening, and it didn't end well for them. The brother and his men were all killed, and the sister along with a few of her soldiers were able to escape, only to never return. Sogudere was taken swiftly, and the few chiefs who had joined Gele defected. After realising the odds against him, the chief of Gele would accept Aslan as his lord, and so Aslan became lord of Sogudere.
**NOTE: CONTINUE HERE**
Now, Alparen would be looking towards a stronger, more open, and more ambitious future. Sugodere was (in its area) relatively strong. Quickly, Aslan launched an offensive against the weakened and weaker duchy of Dugodir, and citing revenge as his reason of war (which is reasonable in Omuler culture), his invasion was swift and successful, though the new chiefs under his rule were not happy. When his father died (only one year prior to him becoming 32), he was left with a strong realm of his own. It was under Terran rulership, of course, but it was still strong for him. With a group of warriors he knew from when he was younger appointed as his Blood-Company, and world to take on, Alparen will have to face the tribulations of ruling over angry chiefs and whatever his goals may have in store for him.
RP Example: (3, minimum, unless I know you)
#SeizeTheThrone
I'll be adressing lore apps on a follow-up post
by Nu-Amerika » Mon Jan 28, 2019 1:11 pm
APPLICATION:
Name: Hold-Lord Thyr Stonesinger
Age: 217
Sex: Male
Race: Dwarf
Appearance: 4'7, approximately 200 lbs.
Personality: Stern, reserved, critical. Loyal, bold, compassionate. Thyr, like others of his kind, is slow to trust outsiders. His respect is not earned easily, but for those who have earned it, and for the few outsiders he counts as friends, he is loyal, gregarious and giving.
Skills: Shrewd, calculating statesman, experienced warrior and commander, natural born leader. Strong user of martial weapons, chiefly the axe, hammer, and shield.
House: Clan Stonesinger
Loyalties: Publicly Thyr supports Lord Carnifex, but secretly despises the man, and awaits a time when he may oppose him without endangering his people.
Biography: Thyr was born into the wealth of a noble clan in the Dwarfhold of Kassus, but unlike the humans who coddle their aristocracy, he was put to work in the mines among his people. He was a stubborn youth prone to fistfights and insubordination, but with age came wisdom. The recklessness of youth gave way to strength, work ethic, empathy, and a desire to contribute to the thriving society in which he lived. He joined the military at 42 years old, and was assigned to an elite fighting unit known as the Dirgewalk.
The training regiment was strict and harsh, drilling with a variety of weapons. The weak were culled early, and all who served were sent ranging into the wild foothills that lay beyond the Mountainhome. It was here that Thyr truly learned to fight, distinguishing himself many times in skirmishes fought against the savage tribes of beasts that dwelt there. He rose through the ranks with time, eventually being appointed as the commander of the Dirgewalk. Not a single soul whispered of nepotism, for such a thing was an accomplishment that only the most worthy could achieve.
Hold-Lords serve for life after being elected. They are chosen by all Dwarven citizens from among the Elder Clans, the oldest families whose history can be traced back to the founding of Kassus. After his predecessor died peacefully in his sleep after a long night spent drinking among friends in the meadhall, Thyr was the most popular choice, having solidified his reputation as a capable leader in a time of great tribulation. Things only improved for the Dwarfhold as Thyr secured an agreement with House Regina which allowed them to export large amounts of their legendary steel for use by the Empire. Now, with the Empress dead, a new Emperor must be chosen, and to secure his people's future, Thyr will make his way to the Imperial City to see for himself who will be the next monarch.
RP Example: I'm posting using an alt, which is to be my main from now on, and if I need to I can prove Illegal Planets belongs to me. 1 - 2 - 3
#SeizeTheThrone
by Union Princes » Mon Jan 28, 2019 5:42 pm
by Benuty » Mon Jan 28, 2019 6:40 pm
Sraelyn wrote:First and foremost, thank you Khas for the vote of confidence.
Secondly, due to V O I D's absense, I've remained quite conservative with regards to some lore aspects, particularly religion.
Without furder ado, the following character apps have been accepted:Ormata wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Edda(Image)
Age: 29
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:Standing at 5’6” with a lithe figure, lacking many of the obvious qualities a woman might hold, Edda’s not what one would be stated as ‘perfect’ by any stretch of the imagination. Red hair is kept long and wild, in part due to the nature of her lifestyle, and her skin is pitted and marred by various scars and small cuts, developed both from her eating habits and from the thorns that one sometimes misses. Her eyes, instead of the normal scar tissue covering, are simply not there whatsoever, the area covered by a thick cloth.
Personality:
In terms of clothing, she prefers to wear simple dresses and comfortable shoes instead of the thicker layers one might have in more common society. A crown of roses is always worn by her, made by her own hands, though it is long since dead.
A young wolf is forever following her.Silent, due to the most obvious of reasons, and overall calm in the face of most which occurs about her, Edda’s the sort of individual to strike-out with wrath in a most rare manner. Plagued by the aspects of the forest which she has consumed, there is a mild suffering in the form of a fragmented unconscious, leading to frequent night terrors. She does, however, possess a vast intellect and an instinctive talent towards magic, something that is both natural towards her and gained through her consumption of spirits.
Skills:Well and fully capable in the mental arts, the method of consuming a spirit’s existence in order to garner more power being favored for gathering such, Edda’s able in reaching into another’s mind in order to find information or, in other circumstances, cut-away knowledge in another’s mind to cause a wipe, a gap in memory. In regards to summoning, she is novice and far less skilled than most others, while in the art of evocation, in fireballs and wreaths of flame, Edda can be considered competent. Due to the nature of her life, she rarely performs such violent and flashy actions, taking preference in the more silent methods of disposal. To this effect, both with tinkering of the lands about her and by magical methods, Edda has become capable in taking effect on air pressure, lessening the pressure against a person’s lungs to the point wherein they cannot breathe through the siphoning-away of oxygen. This can, however, be expanded upon to create a rapid vacuum by the rapid consuming of oxygen within a close distance, creating a deadspace of air about her and making a minor concussive blast.
House: N/A
Loyalties:Herself. She holds no love for House Regine nor Carnifex, though were she to become educated on the subject it’s entirely likely she would choose for House Regine’s or a House like so instead of one like House Carnifex.
Biography:Born in Eramauy, a fortress built among the Frigg Mountain Range, Edda’s earliest life experiences were those of living among the convent. Whether it was by a mother who could not keep or a father who would not give, whether it was by a cheating father whose wife could never know the exploits, whether it was by a whore could could never raise, the reason, the why never did matter to Edda. She was given away, a bundle left upon the doorstep who made not a singular sound. The nuns there took her in, took her in to raise and teach in the ways of celibacy and silence, the ways of prayer and praising. Her life there was quiet, for she never made a sound and only ever listened. At first the others thought her in shock, damaged and hurt by something or another, yet they could never make her speak a word. Some thought her to be a devil’s trap, a being who couldn’t speak for she had no soul to speak with, a demon whose strength lay in the ears, yet these few kept to themselves, afraid to a degree of what might occur were they to voice the concerns.
RP Example:#SeizeTheThrone
When she turned eighteen, Edda would be given the simpler tasks in life. She tended to the garden, tended to whatever food the convent could grow among the mountains, and was kept hidden away by the Sisters. They feared, some of the kinder beings, that if her mute nature would be brought to light that she would be viewed as a demon by some Inquisitorial passer, by some crusading knight who saw a demon in every corner, a devil in every fireplace. Such a thing succeeded for some years, yet Eramauy did not survive the winter, nor the storm, nor the strong arm of man. Raiders came from the plains and forests, desperate men who had been cast away from their own villages and towns that hungered for gold and more. They stalked up, up along the mountain path, a roguish few conning their way into the battlements with the lie that they were merely sheltering from the cold, needed food. These few bastards opened the doors quietly, cold steel bared on the hip, and ravaged the convent. The brave died with kitchen knives in their hands, the corpses defiled and deprived of dignity. The peaceful were used, the screams echoing down stone corridors. Edda hid, hid in a cellar until she could hide no longer.
An emotion burned in her, rage and hatred and revenge for what had been done, what will happen, an emotion the teachings had forever told her to ignore and yet welled inside her, inside the heart and soul. Power drew to her hands, the torches about her growing dim before being blown-away by an unseen wind, and in those very hands was there fire gathered between the finger-tips. Edda burst-forth, fire wreathed about her body, purging the bandits with no mercy. The others screamed, kept on screaming as they thought a Sister to be consumed by devilry, to be taken by the demons of hate, screamed and covered their eyes in terror. The smarter bandits grabbed ahold of hostages, thinking themselves safe behind, and yet Edda was still consumed by that rage, that rage of their cowardice and cruelty. In thar rage, she burned-away those before her, Sister and bandit together, burning them until all anyone would hear were screams. Of the two hundred who once lived in Eramauy, fourteen survived, Edda included. For her trespassing, for her use of a blessing in haste and murder, the goddess to which they praised, their patron Gaia, removed Edda’s eyes, plucking them out as one would pluck berries, and the young woman was forced to leave the convent, leave for to stay would be to remind the others of her anger, her murder.
Outside the gates, blind and mute, unable to call for help, Edda collapsed into the snow-covered ground, a shaking hand producing a circle, sealing it with a drop of blood, then a simple rune among the dirt and hard ground. She called forth a spirit, one of the lesser spirits, and it gathered itself before her, gathered it’s body with dirt and twigs, with droplets of blood and tears. It spoke into her mind and, thus, her first Contract was made...though it could hardly be called that. The spirit was a kind and, truthfully, a rather bored one at that, interested to a degree in helping merely for the sake of taking some minor spite at the Goddess who brought condemnation. It was not a very smart spirit, in all actuality, yet in any case did make the Contract. In exchange for some company, some sharing of bread and food, it would give her a measure of awareness about herself, a spacial knowledge of what was there. Her navigation down the mountain was a silent one, a lump of chippings and blood on her shoulder.
In the forests below, the area of the bandits, she slept a first night away, tucked away in a cave. Over several weeks, she would sleep there, the spirit with her bringing measures of food hunted away through one method or another, bundles of berries, and yet over time, Edda felt herself grow weaker and weaker, the spirit somehow becoming more and more active. One night, in a dream, she saw that same spirit, saw it and heard it speak, saw it eat away at a corpse. It ran away, ran away into the shadows of her mind, and that corpse was Edda, throat ripped away. On waking, she asked the spirit, the spirit who didn’t answer, instead lunging at her throat, shards of wood scorning flesh. Edda would have screamed, were she able, her hands clutching feebly at bits and pieces of dirt and rain, and her mind reached-out as well, grabbing ahold of the sensed spirit before her. She didn’t act, not at all, eating the spirit’s very essence before her in chunks. Edda would hunt the forests, finding more spirits and consuming them, as she had with the first. With each taken, new knowledge was gained, new power taken, and over time she became more and more capable. A wild wolf was found, a cub with an eaten mother, found and raised to become a puppet, and Edda lived there. She’s lived there since, the forest hers, the convent long dead, the fortress long since abandoned, and the bandits slaughtered.The Hierophancy wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Emon, Captain of the Silver Swords
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Calm, collected and friendly, Emon is a generally deferential and quiet person - he is not, however, without spine, nor ambition, and though he's no cold pragmatist or brutal psychopath he's made a few moral transgressions of his own to make it to where he is now. Still, he generally attempts to be morally sound, honest, and loyal to his employer, so long as they make their payments, an attitude reflected by his company.
Skills: Skillful with sword, buckler, bow, spear and pike, charismatic and proficient at both tactics and strategy, along with the basic finances and economic know-how necessary in running a free company. All-around clever person.
House: N/A
Loyalties: Loyal to whoever pays him and his company's wages. Believes in the Empire as an idea, if not necessarily it's current administration.
Biography:Emon was born to a family of turnip farmers within the exceedingly backwater county of Oeg, itself within the slightly less backwater duchy of Grenadiere. Their village, a quaint collection of earthen huts nestled against a particularly infertile patch of mountainside within a small valley known for little less than it's infertility, wasn't large enough to justify officially naming the place. When the need arose for it's residents to name their home, they usually referred to it by the singularly uncreative title of Turnip Farm, or, if seeking to impress, Turnip Farms. Needless to say, young Emon's childhood wasn't very eventful.
Even in the meager turnip fields of Turnip Farm, however, the young Emon's cleverness was recognized among the village serfs, whose stories and oral tradition, whilst admittedly not particularly extensive, were mastered by little Emon with startling speed. Startling for a community of relatively inbred turnip farmers, at least. And so, at around twelve years of age, Emon was packed off with a visiting priest and a sack of precious turnips, instructed to go on and learn to read, write, pray, and other such clever things, so as to make more of himself than he could farming turnips. Although diligent enough to start teaching Emon his letters in exchange for his vegetable riches, the priest was quick to sell the boy, or more specifically a contract of indentured servitude, to the first wealthy enough township he came upon, posing as the boys father. Emon, though not particularly fond of being sold, took to his labors well enough, helping to clear and develop farmland for one of Oeg's wealthier townships, the walled village of Oegsburg, whose modest industries consisted of forestry, farming and operating illegal mines on Dwarfish property. After he finished paying off his contract at around fifteen, Emon continued working various small jobs as a manual laborer, and eventually apprenticing under the towns only priest and scribe, but quickly grew bored of the temple's meager library and the meager town without it. And so, after bidding the priest farewell, Emon set off for the "great" city of Langsburg at sixteen years of age.
In Langsburg, Emon once again sought work as an apprentice scribe, working as a courier and teamster when the city's handful of professional men of letters didn't require assistants. Langsburg, however, much like Oegsburg, didn't prove to be particularly stimulating, and before long Emon found himself once again lusting after greater things. When the ragged free company known as the Silver Swords came limping into Langsburg Harbor, bloodied from some recent conflict further south and seeking to replenish their ranks, Emon signed on immediately, eager for adventure at eighteen. A literate man, Emon was immediately assigned the position of records-keeper and master of coin, the last occupant of those offices having perished to some monstrous foe.
The Silver Swords departed not long after, and determined to return to their roots after their bloody foray into the petty dynastic squabbles of the south, sailed on hired sail north, to the savage lands of Vlka, where the enemy was more oft beast than man. There the company took relatively small contracts - guarding settlements, eradicating packs of wolves and wolfmen, driving off bandits and escorting caravans. The company took on greater challenges too, when they presented themselves, hunting beasts more fell than simple wolves when they threatened communities with coin, fur or amber with which to pay. During this time Emon took to arms near as quick as he had to letters, and soon enough counted himself as among the company's better warriors and hunters, though his duties as company scribe took precedence. In his twenty fourth year, Emon was appointed a serjeant by the Captain at the time, Vexus Andoria, and given command of the company's van, a position in which he earned no small martial distinction, being credited with slaying the bandit Aulio the Bear in his twenty fifth year, and of defeating the werewolf known locally as the Grey Shadow that same year.
Both Emon and his company's greatest achievement at arms would occur later, however, in his twelfth year with the Silver Swords, when they chose to take a particularly risky - and rich - contract being offered by an eccentric, if cautious, forest-lord. Their task was simple - track down and kill the so-called White Lord, a beast more legend than fact said to lurk in the frozen, barren woods to the far north, surrounded by an army of abominations. Tales differ on the exact identity of the White Lord - some claimed him a wayward sorcerer, others a great, snow white werewolf, and many believed him to be an ancient vampire, attended to by an army of undead thralls. Even those who remained of the Silver Swords, upon their return, seemed unsure of what they had battled, though all agreed it was terrible, snow white and dreadfully strong, and that it was accompanied by dozens if not hundreds of white wolf-things. They also agreed upon what transpired after the Silver Swords, bone-weary, cold and low on supplies, stumbled upon the icy clearing in which the White Lord held court. Namely, a bloody, chaotic and costly battle in the snow, which seemed certainly lost after the White Lord, barreling through the hastily assembled company ranks like an avalanche, plucked Captain Andoria off his garron and ripped him in two, tossing the bleeding halves to either side and setting upon the shocked company spear. Emon, however, did not despair, instead calmly taking up the much-nicked silver sword that gave his company it's name and, at the head of his van, charging the fell beast, which he engaged in fierce battle before decapitating. Without their abhorrent chieftain, it is said that the other beasts were easily driven back and ridden down, their pelts, along with the shaggy white hide (whether it was his skin or already a cloak is a matter of fierce contention among the Silver Swords) of the fallen Lord, which was bestowed upon Emon, along with the silver sword and accompanying Captaincy.
After delivering the White Lord's monstrous head (mantle-ready) and receiving his reward, Emon immediately set forth southwards, determined to make something of his little free company. Collecting new recruits along the way, the sellswords made the slow march south, taking what jobs they could as they went and seeking newer, more profitable contracts. They happened to be in great luck, as only a year into their latest foray south, the Empire was thrown into a succession crisis, and contracts were suddenly common as weeds. Emon, ever a man for stealing the march, went with one of the first one's offered - a simple contract of service to a certain fishy fellow...
The Silver Swords: The Silver Swords are a relatively new company, founded about a century ago in Vlka. Initially a simple militia, the Silver Swords were created by a small band of ambitious Northern homesteaders as a means to defend their newly founded settlements and named after the four blades their pooled funds were able to afford - three simple steel swords coated in a thin layer of silver and one blade of solid silver-alloy. The militia had some success, quickly assembling and setting forth whenever one of the tiny townships or homesteads in their little corner of the North called for aid, pushing back countless wolf-thing incursions. However, as their small settlements grew, so too did the attacks, and before long for every five homesteads, ringforts or colonies saved from destruction, one was lost, fallen before the Silver Swords could arrive or overwhelmed. Within a decade of their little colonies founding, it had been reduced to half it's peak size, and by the end of that year, it was destroyed. The Silver Swords, however, were not - incorporating the survivors of their failed colony, they set forth, homeless now, but eager for vengeance, and vowing to prevent more men from being driven from their homes. The company marched and rode from town to town, village to village, aiding in their conflicts with the forest about them. At first, they accepted only what was offered freely, living off of charity. As the years rolled on, however, and the company waxed, waned and changed, they began charging for their services, eventually becoming a mercenary company in all but name, and then in that as well. A new generation of Silver Swords, fed up with the meager offerings of meat, fur, wood and amber they received in exchange for hunting overgrown dogs, chose to hunt bigger contracts, aiding local Vlkan nobility in their petty disputes for a reasonable price. Even in this, however, margins were thin, and so the company headed south, to a land where the grass was greener, the weather warmer and the conflicts both bloodier and more frequent. There they remained, marching back and forth from city to city, war to war, dying and recruiting and killing and dying some more, fighting bandits, vampires, lizardmen, armed peasants, and, of course, other free companies. In their fifth decade down-south, however, the company fought a battle that nearly proved their end upon a field of fire and death. The Silver Swords who emerged from that conflict were a significantly more humble breed than those who had entered, and their newly elected Captain, Vexus Andoria, decided that it was time for the Silver Swords to leave behind the brutal thirst for gold that had drawn them south and return to what they were founded for - killing beasts. And so it was for a good ten years, before his death and the assumption of a new Captain, one who reignited his company's ambition and led them south once more.
The Silver Swords are a diverse company, it's members reflecting the band's history, drawn from all across the Empire, though most are from it's Eastern realms. Their specialty lies within the company's pike-and-bow, though the Silver Swords possess mean divisions of cavalry and mounted archers as well. The company numbers 700 fighting men in total - 150 of which are mounted, 300 of which are armed with pikes, 150 with bow, and 100 as heavy men-at-arms.
RP Example:
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=445172&p=34248575#p34248575
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=426827&p=32811420#p32811420
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=451306&p=34751797#p34751797
#SeizeTheThroneSkarten wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Grand Prince Phílippos Karamanius Javinius Naravius of Aurinia, Protector of the West, Duke Of The Ivory Sea, Lord Of Karathia & The Palace Of Dusk
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: The best word to describe Phílippos Javinius is charismatic. Since young, the Grand Prince has proved himself to have an extremely charming character, becoming beloved to his people. More than that, he is a patron of the intellectual arts, having built many libraries all around his land and written several books himself. Always active, the young noble has a history of being an persuasive negotiator, often attempting to convince useful people to do actions as to aid him in his objectives.
Skills:
Great Swordsmanship
Excellent Military Leadership
Governing/Management Mastership
Horsemanship/Horseback Combat
House:The Karamanai Dynasty
Loyalties: The Karamanai Dynasty and Aurinia in general has always been unhappy with the foreign rule. Furthermore, Phílippo's allegiance is to his home nation only, having no fealty to the Terran Throne
Biography: Phíllipos Javinius Karamanius Scartenius was born in the year 12.317 (AFTER TERRA) as the firstborn to the ruling members of the Grand Principality of Aurinia, his father being Grand Prince Gallerius Karamanius VIII and his mother Princess-Consort Aemilia Flaviana II. His early life was simple, being nursed by the many servants that worked at the palace, taking care of him while his parents attended to their businesses in the court. During those years, he would more often than not spend his days playing in the halls and corridors of his home, albeit with little interaction with other children.
As the heir hit the age of seven, he was finally given an tutor to oversee his education, an well-known scholar whose teachings were very popular through the lands of the Empire. Under his instruction and tutelage, Phílippos would very soon discover his love for literature, resulting in countless of his days being spent in the Palace's library, an practice which would continue throughout his whole life. In that year, too, would begin his other courses that would teach him in his path to become the Grand Prince of Aurinia, such as swordsmanship, management, an introduction to the overall court life in the Terran Empire, etc.
This routine would continue for several years, with the Aurinian Noble becoming more and more skilled in the trades of his family, acquiring superb experience and ability in many subjects, such as horsemanship, dueling, military strategy, management between others. As his age now permitted it, he would begin to go with his parents on more trips, travelling through the realm he would one day rule, from the agitation of the Ivory Sea Coast to the stark silence and cold of the Scartenian Mountains. Albeit amazed by these scenarios, Phílippos could not help but wonder of the lands that lied beyond the Xarai Desert, whom he had only read and heard about.
As his fourteenth year came along, Phílippos finally became an adult as per law, being allowed now to fully take on his job as a aristocrat and heir of Aurinia. It was at this time that he showed himself to be an natural born leader, in an certain occasion having been said to command his retinue against an notorious free company who had turned to plundering due to the long-lasting piece in the region, who had not seen a war for a long time, and thus were not recruited by any government. With his relatively small force, he is said to have defeated the enemy even in odds of Three to One (Though some say this is an exaggeration).
At around the age of sixteenth, an tragedy hit the Karamanai Dynasty, as both Gallerius VI, Phílippo's father, and Aemilia Flaviana II, his mother, fell heavily ill to Tuberculosis after they were infected while on a excursion on the Scartenian Mountains to visit an very particular castle, dying only a few months later. This meant that the throne of Aurinia and the position of Grand Prince were now left to the young now orphaned Phílippos.
And like that, his reign began. Although shaky at first due to the sudden death of his parents and inevitable turmoil that rose around it, the situation would quickly stabilize itself, with Phílippos proving to the Aurinian court that he was indeed skilled enough to be in the position of Grand Prince. It was also at this time that his marriage was arranged with the Duchess Adriana Ornaviana, who a few years later would die in childbirth, while the heir to the Grand Principality and Phílippo's son, Tiberius Karamanius Javinius, survived.
With his title secured and an heir, the sovereignty of the Charismatic Grand Prince was now assured, and his rule could truly begin. Economical reforms soon followed, together with valuable metal mines and grand Infrastructure projects, such as roads, forts and whatnot, increasing greatly the revenue due to the increased commerce. More than that, the Army's size and budget was increased, allowing for more men in their ranks and better equipment to be used.
Overall, Aurinia had made many advancements in these years of government under Phílippos, with their already large fortune increasing considerably. Yet, in the end, they were still a vassal, and they were still obligated to pay large tributes to the Imperial Throne, whose thirst for gold and valuable had given them an certain unpopularity in the region. But with the death of the last ruler of House Regine, things in Gaia were changing, as uncertainty came together with the possibility of life under the Carnifex. Only the future would tell what the gods had planned for the Land of Gold and Metal, and in particular,for the Charismatic Grand Prince.
Because, as they always say..
Omnia enim possibilia in Terra Auri et Metalum
RP Example:This Was the Most Recent RP i Could find]https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34780128&hilit=Galacius#p34780128
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34668548&hilit=Galacius#p34668548
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=450272&p=34932701&hilit=Galacius#p34932701
#SeizeTheThroneMistolia wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Grand Mayor Tellerio Ulvanis the Greedy of Fulvast, Lord Provost of the Fulvast Marches, Lord Mayor of Ungrio, Princeps Publicanus, Patriarch of the House Ulvanis, Lord of Ulvanis and 13th Holy Knight of the Fulvast Scrolls
Age: 53
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Old, fat and greasy. Straggly combover hair atop a sallow and bloated face. A gouty, plump body, always bedecked in the richest clothing. Many fake teeth to replace those lost due to his rich diet.
Personality: Most know Tellerio by his greed. Completely unscrupulous, Tellerio has stopped at nothing to increase the wealth of himself and his house. Completely uncivil and impolite. His behaviour has made him very unpopular with almost everyone since his election (which he won largely by bribing the Serene Electoral Chamber). His greed has been satisfied largely by his cunning and intelligence - although no great genius, he is shrewd and knows a good business opportunity when he sees one.
Skills: Possession of the Vaults of the Grand Mayor of the City of Fulvast, which contain items of great wealth and many invaluable tomes.
House: House Ulvanis, a rich patrician family in the Grand City of Fulvast
Loyalties: Money, House Ulvanis, to an extent the Grand City of Fulvast
Biography:
Born in 12,292 AT to Lord Tellerio Ulvanis of Ulvanis and his wife Azalea, Tellerio grew up in luxury, scion of the richest house in Fulvast. Afforded the best tutors possible, Tellerio seemed bound to do well, and for the most part, he did. Tellerio learnt three languages, and gained a good understanding of mathematics, although he never showed any interest, or aptitude, for subjects such as Theology, Rhetoric or Philosophy. At sixteen, Tellerio was sent to the Throne-City to negotiate trade deals with merchants there, which he did so successfully that his father granted him charters to handle the House of Ulvanis' dealings in slaves and mining. It was in these trades that Tellerio became notorious for his vile and avaricious character.
In 12,320 AT, at the age of 28, Tellerio inherited the titles Lord Ulvanis of Ulvanis, Patriarch of the House Ulvanis, and Holy Knight of the Scrolls of Fulvast from his father, who had died in a riding accident. Tellerio quickly set about expanding his influence within the Grand City, not a hard job considering the wealth and power of the House Ulvanis. By 12,326 AT, Tellerio had ensured that the House Ulvanis had trade monopolies on more than half of goods that flowed through Fulvast. By this point he owned roughly 2,000 slaves. His power made him much resented throughout the city, however a system of bribes, extortion and threats meant that few dared to challenge him.
When the Grand Mayor died in 12,331, Tellerio quickly made sure that the Serene Electoral Chamber, composed of the highest officials in the city as well as some of the richest merchants (many of whom were on Tellerio's payroll) and the most important clergymen and military officers, voted for him, in what was criticised (by those who dared do so) as a completely unfair and illegitimate election based entirely on bribery and extortion. They were right. Tellerio used his mayoralty to enrich his house and himself, while enjoying the many trappings that power brought. A vast new palace was built in the centre of the city, by the main market square, which had a huge new statue of him placed at the centre.While Tellerio's businesses brought many riches to the city, the increasingly corrupt and autocratic government did not have popular support, and facing a popular revolt, in 12,340 AT, Tellerio announced that Fulvast would attack its age-old rival, Ungrio. The people's loyalty to Fulvast, and hatred of Ungrio, overpowered their hatred for Tellerio. With a large mercenary army, Tellerio conquered and sacked the City of Ungrio, declaring himself Lord Mayor of Ungrio. In the five years since this war, Fulvast has stagnated. Tellerio has become increasingly decadent, and has dedicated less and less time to actually governing. He has raised taxes to fund his extravagant lifestyle, while letting his own business, which had become the heart of Fulvast's economy, sit immobile. His position looks increasingly tenuous, and even some of his many children seem ready to turn against him.
RP Example: Most are from other websites:
-GameofThronesRP on Reddit
-EmuWarFlashbacks RP on Reddit
-Mock House of Commons on Reddit
-Newly arrived in 2017 British political simulation on this website
#SeizeTheThroneAchidyemay wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Archmage Faendor Lortikai
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)
Personality: Smart, witty and fun loving with a penchant for creativity and zest. Faendor likes things new, exciting, and under control, and he has a matching personality. He is described as passionate and affable and is known for his keen interest in helping others. He likes to keep moving and he feels that if he isn't doing anything then he is falling behind. Generally inexhaustible, he brings positivity, wisdom, and a sense of equality to every room he enters.
Skills: Considered one of the most talented magic users of this age, if not the most dynamic, Faendor is known for his inter-disciplinary approach, mixing the different schools and types of magic together to more specifically suit his needs. He would claim that his best talent is not with magic, but with people, bringing together disparate groups as a way of better understanding magic. He is one of few mages actively engaged in the creation of new spells.
House: The Carn-Laer Caravan
Loyalties: To the Medeis Order, specifically the College of Applied Magics, and the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia
Biography: Faendor Lortikai was born a member of the Carn-Laer Caravan as the third child, second son, of a family of storytellers. His family was known for it's recounting of Western History, specifically the Battles of Lorgasmus and the rise of the Arinian's to power. His birth was late in the night, but well attended; Marda Free, one of the caravan's most famed midwives, oversaw the birth. She recognized the characteristic golden aura within the child and his magical potential almost immediately, recounting with glee the long histories of those born with golden auras. Typically, it was an honor exclusive to the royal family, but it did occasionally manifest outside that lineage, and when it did it was a sign of really good things. The child was blessed, she said. Their section of the caravan had a minor celebration to welcome the child, as was custom, the next day. Many who came to see the baby congratulated the parents on their third, although those from further along who had heard of his miraculous nature were disappointed by the baby's average appearance.
The first many years of his life were good, he was loved by his parents, and he seemed to possess a good mind, always appreciated by the Rosha. His favorite story growing up was Lilia of Karathia's defeat of the Bear Lords, he liked bears. As a young child he asked a lot of questions, and he became known throughout the caravan as "the asking kid". He didn't seem to have the usual ability for story telling, however, and when his parents asked for him to recount the stories, he would often give flat synopsis, almost immediately losing interest unless something felt off, and then he would ask questions of his parents. When his parents pressed for details, he could usually answer their questions, and as he grew older he was more likely to be right, but the one sentence answers would plague his family for years. Faendor's family also found his general curiosity and lack of focus to be troublesome. He wouldn't stick near the wagon, travelling the length of the caravan, and when his legs came fully under him he would hardly stick near the caravan at all. Not long after this they were travelling through the Free City of Ffenen, home to the Medeis Order. Marda Free had evidently been talking with one of the mages there and Faendor was asked to swing by.
Typically magical potential is unlocked via tremendous focus and months if not years of contemplation and meditation (bored kids do it all the time), or through great physical or emotional trauma, where the internal magical abilities, or Aura/Mana, of a person unleashes itself as a form of self-protection. The mage, Maester Fernson, was quick to quell young Faendor's growing fear of the large college. He filled in the youth about how the college used a proven, safe, and reliable method for unlocking potential for nearly a millennia now. After a quick demonstration of illusion magic, the young child was hooked, and very eager to be Awakened. That week he said goodbye to his family. They were worried about him leaving the caravan, as they didn't particularly understand what it was that he would do, but they understood the prestige of the Medeis Order and they understood that this was their child's destiny. The caravan would be staying in Ffenen for a while anyway. The city had always been good to the Carn-Laer, and this gave Faendar the best of both worlds, as it were, even towards the end of the week when he was living almost exclusively within the dorms.
Faendar's awakening would be well attended. 8 years was half the general acceptance age, and while there were records of even younger children being awakened, those records were covered in dust. In the main forum of the College of Evocation, where these things occurred, those mages that could were in attendance and students stretched out into the hallway. An awakening in and of itself was a rare sight, typically students entering the college had already demonstrated magical aptitude, so the boy's awakening was the talk of Ffenen. There was a lot of chatter in the antechamber as Maester Fernson and young Faendor climbed the small central dais. A stone table covered in arcane symbols that glimmered dully dominated the center. Faendor was lifted by two adepts onto the table. The markings grew brighter as Maester Fernson raised his hands over the youth, a light purple fog dripping from his fingers, wrapping Faendor in what to the boy felt like cotton. It was everywhere, mummifying the boy. Faendor found it getting harder and harder to breath, his breaths were shallow, his heart was slow, there was this terrible bliss and powerlessness slipping over him, the air smelled of thyme. Then the mummified child levitated off the stone, arcane symbols alive, twisting and arching like so many snakes. Faendor lost consciousness, Fernson took a step back. The light purple magic was shot through with golden sparks, the fluffy substance cracked and bloated.
"Avert your gaze!" Maester Fernson directed, a tone of power and control in his voice that his body did not reflect. "Now!" He shouted to the adept assistants, who rapidly raised their arms to throw up a smoke screen. It made little difference, there was a thunderclap as the cotton failed and Faendor was released, haloed in golden light that cut through the smokescreen like light through a shadow. He levitated briefly, his eyes were solid disks of gold, his body wreathed in extra arms and legs, there was a humming and chorus that permeated the atmosphere and the smell of thyme had been cut through with the smell of freshly chopped pine. Then Faendor fell onto the table and bounced off onto the floor.
The College of Recovery and Healing was a lovely place. There was lots of natural light and windows and the walls curved and arched like a tall, melted candle. The place was uniformly lit by a powerful illumination spell set into the marblework and the air smelled slightly of cinnamon. Faendor had broken his arm in the fall and had suffered a concussion. Thankfully, the skilled physicians and his own youthful resilience put him on the mend quickly. Which was good because his classes started almost immediately. Faendor was an excited and eager learner, and according to most Maesters, a delight to have in class. He did well in most practicals and tests, although his performance on homework was usually lackluster or undone. He received a lot of patronage from his peers and teacher's and he took this pretty well. Whenever he didn't understand something, he was willing to try to find answers. This led to some division among the Maesters: some thought he shouldn't be treated differently than his older counterparts, others thought he should have his childhood preserved, and unsurprisingly, Faendor gravitated towards the latter instructors. In particular, Maestor Arnor of the College of Illusion became like a father to the young lad, volunteering to oversee Faendor's course of instruction himself. Under Arnor, Faendor was scheduled into a track focused on fundamental magic, with him learning the basics from most of the colleges.
This proved to be an excellent choice as Faendor turned 16 and insisted he was given his own say in the classes he attended and that he should no longer be considered a ward of the Order. He fully enrolled in the College of Alteration at the same time as he enrolled in the College of Fabrication. Having already completed the basic course requirements for both colleges, Faendor was catapulted to Adept status. The intense workload at this time Faendor would recount as some of the hardest and least rewarding years of his life. Constantly having to prove himself to his peers or having to deal with classmates that assumed he was always correct and willing to help. He was called things like "genius" or "prodigy," and often enough they were used like a slur. He began to abuse alcohol and then a substance of his own creation known as morglorb. This dip in performance was acknowledge by the staff, but was generally explained as him biting off more than he could chew. Enrolling in two colleges was an unheard of thing, and there were a few who found a lot to be jealous of.
Despite the malignancies of his life, Faendor became promoted to Senior Adept three years later at the College of Fabrication. He was working directly under Maester Griffith at the time, a stoic and spartan individual with a proclivity for hyper-fixation. He was attempting to construct an enchantment that could be laid on a sword that would imbue the wielder with the experience and knowledge of command and combat that past wielders had possessed. A well known enchantment on the Royal Sword of House Regine. He had had the idea of using memory metal within the blade as a storage device and Faendor was really good at making memory metal. They were a good team. Faendor provided creative ideas and outside the box solutions and Maester Griffith would consider some of these sometimes. A year later they had created a sword that would alter its gravitational pull to levitate and fight. It had basic attacks programmed into it and based on the cut of the jewels in the pommel, could adopt further styles of fighting. Within the lab, sword fighting the ghost sword became a bit of a fun gag. The board considered this good enough work to graduate Faendor from the College of Fabrication, a mere three weeks before he would become a senior adept for the College of Alteration. Maester d'Imagio was new to the college and Faendor was his first charge. They both had grand dreams of a new type of material. They settled on finely enchanted grains of a crystal with a low melting point and insolubility in water. Inert at room temperature, in cold environments or when frozen, the material is able to be manipulated by basic alteration spells simultaneously on a grain by grain basis allowing for the synthesis of highly complex structures from the ground up. For their invention, Faendor was Graduated from the College of Alteration with honors.
He had been in touch with mages at other colleges at this time whose work he had heard about and he traveled between colleges for a time. Universally, he was disappointed by the erudite nature of the academics. In his eyes, they had become too focused on possibilities and their own schools of thought. There was too little application, too little cross-school interaction. He was tired of seeing brilliant conjurers incapable of simple fireball spells, brilliant arctic wizards brought low by runic magic, evokers hurling mighty magical bolts only to have their magic absorbed by warding cloaks and then turning to their knives when the magic failed. Turning back to his own upbringing, he knew the Medeis Order had a fairly well-rounded education, but he was still aware for example that the College of Recovery and Healing did not outsource to professors from the College of Illusion when it came time to teach their students to pacify unruly patients, they relied on their own textbooks and own internal teachings which could be well behind the current practices of the College of Illusion. He brought these examples and arguments back to the Medeis Order. Faendor's proposal was for a new school. He recognized the great value of diversifying abilities, but he wanted something with broad applications. He wanted magic to be seen as a method of problem solving, and not a thing done by old men in towers. The Order deliberated his proposal for a long while and settled on something of a much smaller scale. Faendor was named Maester Lortikai and was put in charge of a new class at the College of Evocation, which was broadly in charge of new students who hadn't decided a path anyway. His class was Practical Problem Solving and it was supposed to be an introductory course.
Faendor was a good Maester, very friendly and willing to work with students, but he was also a strict Maester, with very high expectations for the teenagers that walked through his doors. He spent a great deal of time outside of scheduled class times with students to shore up areas where they were lacking. As the years progressed, the other Maesters began to enjoy the varied abilities of their students. Often, senior adepts were told to seek out Maester Lortikai if there was a bit of knowledge that they ended up needing for a specific thing. It is important to note that Maester Lortikai was often minimally helpful in such encounters, but he was always able to connect the student to someone who had been working in that specific area for a while. He kept his fingers on the pulse of as many projects as he could, and he became famous for his "shadows", students who had been doing poorly in some thing who he brought along on visits to those at other colleges working on that thing. Around this time he also began to reach out to other wizarding schools, establishing contact with multiple magic users. His own senior adepts were a varied bunch; Faendor became much better at Evocation during his time at the college, but he tried to take on adepts who had projects unrelated to pure magic.
After a number of years, he again proposed his idea for a new college. He had made many friends within the Medeis Order and actually got to be a member of the deliberations this time around. The College of Applied Magics was a small and fundamentally experimental affair. It was no simple coincidence that the proposal came at the same time as the closing of the nearby Abathy Chapel and its acquisition by the Ffenen City Council. It was purchased and refitted by the Medeis Order and the classical, tall building became a Frankenstein's monster as Maester Lortikai added countless mechana and archana related tools. Faendor was not appointed as Archmage of the College, however, that position went to the conservative and well rounded Maester Borris. The elderly and newly appointed Archmage Borris was well-connected and proved to be the capable leader that the young college needed. He was practical and straightforward and well versed in the problems facing magic, sharing in Faedor's vision, but narrowing Maester Lortikai's exuberance into several concrete goals. Their first class contained only 4 students, the next contained 27, and within only a few years, the college was taking on nearly 100 students per year. Applied Magics rapidly became a new prestige school given it's small size and Borris' desire to keep a small class size, and given that students would often attend this college in conjunction with other colleges with a 23% dual enrollment rate. The expectations were high and the learning curve was steep, however, and the dropout rate has neared as high 60% some years.
Unfortunately, Archmage Borris would not see his 5th year as archmage. After attempting a particularly violent summoning spell designed to test the efficacy of certain runes, he became ill with acute summoning sickness. Despite receiving almost immediate treatment, complications from his old age led to a rapid deterioration of his quality of life. He died a week later. Faendor had agreed to assist with the rune test, but had been busy helping a student with a transfiguration assignment and had been late. He still holds responsibility for what happened. Promoted to Archmage Lortikai, Faendor put in place more rigorous screening, hoping to drop the burnout rates, which it did, but they still remained the highest of all the colleges in the Medeis Order. Administrative work began to eat up more and more of his time as well, forcing Faendor to quit teaching. He justified it to himself by doubling down on collaborative projects and extracting innovation from his campus.
The death of Empress Artemis II Regina and the subsequent instability had been well predicted by the mediums and politicians alike, although it was not well known how the situation would resolve itself. It was a few months before her death that Archmage Lortikai became aware of the Grand Order of the Throne of Gaia, a few members of which with whom he became fast friends. During his visits to the capitol city, he would often seek them out, offering camaraderie, advice on golem repair, and news that he found relevant. He made preparations to be in the capitol on business on that fated day when she passed, but was held up due to a difficulty stabilizing the chassis of a proposed Ley Gate generator. He leaves today, in game, for the court in order to assists the Grand Order and their plan for a peaceful transition of power in any way.
RP Example: Currently in Vanished Wilderness, Was in New Civilizations, And here's an oldie but a goodie.
#SeizeTheThroneRannoria wrote:APPLICATION:
Name: Alperen Kememli-Ozbey, Lord of Sogudere, Lord of Dugodir, Chieftain of Kememli and those under Sogudere, Blood-Captain of the Iron-Faced Ones
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:(Image)(Image)
Personality: While Alperen may be brash and not very diplomatically gifted, he is a man of honour. He swears to live by most of his moral code, and to protect his family and his lands. Almost never does he break his personal rules, and whatever he does break, he attempts to make amends for it, if he sees it fit. Because of his actions and his integrity, he is beloved by his fellow soldiers and his citizens. Although he is mostly in the right morally, his confidence in his own judgement and honour sometimes goes too far, and sometimes makes unfair decisions which he believes are right because he says so. He is also ambitious, seeking to expand his realm-within-a-realm, though he knows that this is a difficult task.
Skills: Alperen is a very skilled horseman, being born into a life where one is trained to ride horses when as young as possible. He is also very proficient with a lance, and although he is able to perform horse archery well, he is not the best at it. As a warrior, he is also trained in sword-fighting, and his battlefield prowess shows during battle. In terms of ruling land, he is not incompetent, though he does keep a circle of advisors with him before making any important decisions, and likes to delegate some day-to-day tasks to some people inside of his close circle.
House: Lord of House Kememli
Loyalties: As of currently, Alperen and House Kemenli do not openly express what they feel about House Regine's end and the rise of House Carnifex. Internally, they also don't have much to say, but they fear that Lord Carnifex's ruthlessness, cruelty, convenient position for power, and the rumours surrounding him cannot be good for the empire if he rules. Again, though, this opinion is rather minor, and so, for now, they stay out of that.
Biography:
Alparen Kememli, son of Aslan Kememli and Maya Ozbey, was born into the Chiefdom of Kememli, where some of the Omuler people reside. The Omuler people have had an interesting history, spanning the rise of their own smaller nations, into Omuleran (the land of the Omuler), until its downfall and integration into the Terran Empire. But this is not about the Omuler, is it? From a young age, Alparen was trained to be a warrior, in accordance to Omuler tradition. At a young age of 4, his father began training him to ride horses, and at age 6, he began archery. When he was older, he picked up the lance and the sword, practicing on straw dummies and with other boys of his age and men in his father's Blood-Company.
As Alparen grew, he thought he was only going to inherit Kememli. Kememli was only a small village, with a mixture of houses and traditional tents. There, Alparen knew that, although his life would be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, he would be safe. He would be able to protect his family, protect his people, and serve the lord who ruled over him: the lord of Sogudere. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do much in his life, but he came to accept that easily. That changed, though, when the lord of Sogudere died without an heir, and the lordship fell upon his father.
**NOTE: SKIP THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ HOW THE HOUSE KEMEMLI ACQUIRED SOGUDERE. (there's a note further down saying where to continue
When the lord of Sogudere died, he had not left behind any children. His parents were long gone, and he had no nieces or nephews. The only two potential successors were his brother and sister; the sister was married off to a local lord, and the brother was banished for attempting to overthrow the lord. This, of course, did not help the succession issue at all. Immediately, many chiefs under the realm of Sogudere began to plan, and everyone knew that only one chief could rule Sogudere in the end. After several months of fighting and diplomacy, only four people would be seen as the potential ruler of Sogudere and the lands under it. The first was Alparen's father, Aslan, who had gained the trust of many chiefs and called in many favours to gain support. This did not mean he was not ferocious on the battlefield, though, as he had also defeated other chiefdoms as well. The second was another chief who ruled the Chiefdom of Gele. Gele was the largest Chiefdom, and many people believed that they would rise to power, but unlike Alparen, the chief of Gele was not popular with the other chiefs. He was strong in battle, both in numbers and skill, but that was all he was good at. He crushed his opposition force, and burned down those who were especially unruly. The third and fourth were the previous lord's siblings. Although they were technically more legitimate, the chiefs would not let a banished man nor a lady from (now) another dynasty. The most decisive battle of the conflict was at Sogudere itself.
Although Sogudere had already fallen into the hands of the Chiefdom of Gele, there were still three other contenders for the throne. After hearing of his brother's death, the brother to the previous lord of Sogudere tried to curry favour with lords and would soon raise an army with what wealth he had left. The sister begged her husband to ride for Sogudere, and although the husband initially did not want to involve himself in a neighbouring lord's quarrel, he soon realised that holding a second, stronger and wealthier realm would be beneficial in the long run. And so, at the outskirts of Sogudere, three armies met. Although the brother had the largest army with him, he was a fool on the battlefield, and through a series of bad assaults, he had lost most of his men. The sister's army was doing well as she and her husband were both able to command well, but in a large volley of arrows, her husband was fatally wounded. The sister's army's morale dropped, and it was apparent that the Chiefdom of Gele would win the battle, but Aslan's army soon appeared. Aslan and his Blood-Company, along with the Blood-Companies and armies of his and the other chiefdoms, charged towards the battlefield. The cannon-like sounds of the horses' hooves stomping on the ground and the roars of men approaching the two weary armies was frightening, and it didn't end well for them. The brother and his men were all killed, and the sister along with a few of her soldiers were able to escape, only to never return. Sogudere was taken swiftly, and the few chiefs who had joined Gele defected. After realising the odds against him, the chief of Gele would accept Aslan as his lord, and so Aslan became lord of Sogudere.
**NOTE: CONTINUE HERE**
Now, Alparen would be looking towards a stronger, more open, and more ambitious future. Sugodere was (in its area) relatively strong. Quickly, Aslan launched an offensive against the weakened and weaker duchy of Dugodir, and citing revenge as his reason of war (which is reasonable in Omuler culture), his invasion was swift and successful, though the new chiefs under his rule were not happy. When his father died (only one year prior to him becoming 32), he was left with a strong realm of his own. It was under Terran rulership, of course, but it was still strong for him. With a group of warriors he knew from when he was younger appointed as his Blood-Company, and world to take on, Alparen will have to face the tribulations of ruling over angry chiefs and whatever his goals may have in store for him.
RP Example: (3, minimum, unless I know you)
#SeizeTheThrone
I'll be adressing lore apps on a follow-up post
by Sraelyn » Mon Jan 28, 2019 7:08 pm
Woodstovia wrote:Daemonic Weaponry:
One of the most peculiar and profane occurrences to ever sully the world of Gaia is the unholy marriage between the impossible and possible, of the material world and the immaterial world: Daemonic possession. But while possession of humans is more commonly understood - often references in folktales or bedtime stories as reasons why naughty children should be sure to say their prayers and respect their parents the possession of inanimate objects, namely weaponry is far less understood but perhaps even more offensive. The Daemonic taking advantage of mortal work, twisting and corrupting what good honest Smiths spend their lives on and making a mockery out of manufacturers everywhere. Possessed weaponry can be even harder for the beloved Inquisitorial Order to hunt down, spread thinly across the world, hiding in plain sight. Unlike mortal victims swords don't have to interact with others, decreasing the chance a dutiful bystander sees the corruption with his own eyes and alerts the Inquisition. No threat may be more heretical and insidious.
A common misconception is that Daemonic weaponry is unusual and easily spotted but this is not always true. Daemonic weapons can come in a variety of shapes and sizes from the humble knife to the war mace, although less frequent even ranged weaponry can be possessed (Daemons seem to prefer the intimate violence granted by melee weaponry). Daemonic weapons do often have peculiar quirks or appearances, often looking elaborate or otherworldly for Daemons are not humble creatures and will often want to attract the attention of a powerful host but this isn't always a sign of possession, some prefer to lay low or avoid attention. It is whispered that the first Daemonic weapon was actually the first knife crafted by mortals for the purpose of murder, a simple and plain weapon but one soaked in heresy and corruption.
The Daemon inside the weapon can be there because of a variety of reasons. Some are simply bound to weapons by powerful spell-casters, invoking ancient and abhorrent rituals in order to tie a Daemon into their or an ally's weapon, with Daemonic weapons often performing better than standard weapons, with Daemons able to nudge their hosts into better form as well as communicate directly through the host's mind, often whispering advice or encouragements to suit the Daemon's schemes. Daemons can also be in weaponry as a form of punishment, forced to remain on the mortal place, unable to move or talk directly. It is said that during the crusades particularly powerful Daemons were bound to weaponry by mages unable to destroy them by natural means, instead confining their power to an inanimate object which could be watched over. Other times Daemons willingly bind to weapons for a variety of reasons. it is said that the Daemon inside such a weapon will be able to feast somewhat from the soul of the wielder and those he slays. Many particularly bloody warlords or bandits were said to have attracted Daemons, eager to feast on the souls of women and children. Once their host dies a Daemon entering a weapon in this manner is able to slip away, back to the underworld; invigorated by it's feast. Less fortunate Daemons who choose a weak or disappointing host may be trapped forever, unable to gain the necessary power to escape, raging against their eternal prison.
Erhialam wrote:The Race of the Alva'a/Elves
The race of Alva'a, known in the Human tongue as Elves, were formed contemporarily, or nearly so, with humans in 30,000 BT, a race known as much for their ethereal beauty and grace as for their affinity for the arcane; the more high-minded Elves who are aware of history sometimes uphold the idea that the Gods themselves assisted with the creation of the first of the Alva'a rather than just being formed by the hands of the lesser Angeli, though such a claim is based on history that stretches so far back that very few of even the Elvenkind have been taught such things. Elves formed great and wondrous civilizations in parallel with their Human counterparts for millennia, with almost entirely peaceable relations between the two; although intermixture of their cultures was rare enough for the two to generally regard one another's denizens as exotic, there were no real conflicts large enough to be of any particular note. It should be noted that the Alva'a were among the most steadfast compatriots of Humans in their earliest conflicts with Daemons, though. Brithín'le Alatáni Elex'jalín, the High Queen of the Alva'a at the time (Elex'jalín being an Alva'an title often translated as "Starry Queen" from elex, "astral" and jalín, "queen"; "High Queen" does not entirely capture the term in translation, as it is typically regarded as having shades of spiritual significance, but it is the most common translation) was a noted ally of Mikhalux and his family. The first shades of unrest among the Alva'a began to crop up with the First Terran Crusade, when a notably-sized subset of Elvenkind began to worry that their race had been weakened by their prolonged reliance upon Humanity; the Alva'a joined humanity's efforts to repel the demons, but many did so with a sense of wariness about the consequences of such prolonged association with their Human allies by the time of the Second Crusade, worried that once the demon threat was ended, they would fall under Human control. This all came to a head in 0 AT, when roughly half of all the Alva'a submitted to the Empire, and roughly half clung fiercely and defiantly to the Old Ways. A dire magical event known as Mirjaxale'í, "the Sundering", resulted from the clashes between immensely powerful Elf mages on both sides and these two factions were split into two entirely separate races of Elves, Sarluun Alva'a, Wild Elves, and Briján Alva'a, the High Elves. Almost immediately, a kind of bloody 'civil war' broke out. At a higher cost in blood and strife than they might have initially guessed, the combined forces of the High Elves and the Empire managed to force the Wild Elves to negotiate, and a compromise was reached to avoid further loss of life on all sides. All of the cities of the Alva'a of old would fall to the High Elves of the Empire. In exchange, the Wild Elves of Terra could live self-governed on certain fringes of the Empire and beyond and preserve the pure, unsullied Old Ways of Alva'a as they saw fit. A few clans of Sarluun were unwilling to make such a sacrifice to preserve the Old Ways and joined the Empire. Others assimilated into the non-Empire societies they encountered beyond the Empire's borders, such as the Isle of Artana. But the rest were so committed to the Old Ways that they accepted their Exile with pride and made their own way in the wildwoods of Terra. Twelve millennia passed; the lingering bitter taste of the Sundering left in the mouths of both sides leave some High Elves to view the Wild Elves as savages and some Wild Elves, in turn, to view their counterparts as traitors. But in truth, the races are generally indifferent to one another, as contact between them is mostly uncommon nowadays.
Utceforp wrote:The Istmenn CompaniesThe Artanni have a long and hallowed mercenary tradition, dating back to the early Umirling period. In those days, the blood of the people of Umir was strongest on the Eastern Isles, where the peasants still spoke the language Umir spoke, and fought using old Umirling tactics, such as axes, shield walls, and mind-altering magic. These islanders were renowned for their prowess as heavy infantry. and mercenaries from the isles were highly sought after by lords from mainland Artana. Eventually, as the islander mercenaries became more wealthy, they started plying their trade on Terra as well, serving as bodyguards and heavy infantry to northeastern families such as the Veliras, and sometimes even the Regines themselves. These warriors dubbed themselves "Istmenn", meaning "East Men" in their dialect. Eventually, humans and Wild Elves from mainland Artana began joining the companies as well, and the distinctly East Islander culture of the companies faded away, but their tactics, weaponry, and terminology remained.
Many of the modern Istmenn companies can trace their origins to the Artanni civil war 30 years ago. After the conclusion of the war, High King Brendan forcibly disbanded much of the disloyal clans' armies, leaving thousands of veteran soldiers with no clear source of income. These soldiers either joined the existing companies or founded new ones, and as a result the modern Istmenn have a decidedly poor view of Clan Blackhand.
A typical infantryman in an Istmenn company is armed with a sparth axe, a shorter bearded axe, a round shield made from wood and iron, and a unique magical artifact called a "Shield-Biter charm" that bolsters the user's courage and aggressiveness when the right incantation is used. The Istmenn also employ pikemen, archers, and powerful mages in smaller numbers.
Currently, the largest and wealthiest Istmenn company is the Red Company, founded by Hafdonnal Thorfinnson, a former retainer of Duncan the Elder and a veteran of the Artanni civil war. The Red Company's banner is three white spears on a red background, and their motto is "Sooner wound the wind."
Union Princes wrote:(Image)Montesquieu
The forbidden library of the Terran Empire. Montesquieu had its origins laid out during Night King Drakula's reign as a base of study for all things unholy and blasphemous. Blood rituals and heretical tomes marked the beginning of Vampire Sorcery at its finest. With the study of magic barred from Lesser Vampires, who had no desire to learn magic but were still offended nonetheless, the Higher Vampires reveled in learning more powerful spells and black knowledge of the demons.
Like the Vampire Counts, Montesquieu has been described to "pompous in its design, flaunting its decor and the wealth of the Vampire Counts". What originally looked like a three story building turned into a tower of twelve floors. Some levels were dedicated to rituals or laboratories while the basement was a fully fledged torture chamber and prison cell.
Despite the anti-vampire propaganda of the Terran Empire, Montesquieu was a center of learning and etiquette of Vampire Count culture. Indeed, it was the only place that pride itself free of intrigue and political assassinations. But despite all of this, the Night Kings and the rest of the Higher Vampires viciously sought to wield the power of the darkness for their own nefarious gains.
Those dreams, however, died when Ravyrnyra was integrated into the Terran Empire and the Vampire Counts purged. The Deathwatch Knights and other Blood Knights quickly arrived at Montesquieu to perform a sweeping search of any Higher Vampire in hiding. For the first time, a Lesser Vampire has stepped foot inside the library.
No one was found and Montesquieu was placed under guard from the Lesser Vampires. They were quite eager into converting this into a center of educating for Blood Knights but the Imperial church were adamant in its destruction. Currently, Montesquieu is in a state of slow disrepair as Lesser Vampires guard it day and night with rumors growing in Ravyrnyra that the Vampire Counts had studied mathematics, astrology, engineering, history and non-heretical teachings of magic.
To a secular scholar or mage, such secrets that could benefit the Terran Empire is a tragedy that could not be ignored. The general curiosity of what the Vampire Counts were hoping to achieve with astrology or history drove a few adventurous learners to its front doors only to be driven away by the guarding Blood Knights, who quite frankly cannot comprehend the importance of astrology. Whatever is hiding in the dusty old books are secrets waiting to be discovered.
Bla Ary wrote:The Rumor, The Myth, The Legend
The Guardian of The Pit
Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
Deep under the heart of Atheo, lies an ancient and dark secret. In the underbelly of the city, circling through the pit and the dark chasms below, awaits a terrifying beast of legend. Thousands of years old, the Guardian of the pit is said to be as ancient as the prison it guards. The Guardian, whose only known loyalties are to the Prison Warden, is said to be an unsightly and unholy abomination. The universe itself having cast it out when everything was young, as a wicked mistake. The beast, which now holds unholy connotations, prowls the depths to this day guarding inmates who do not exist, for a warden who has left long ago promising to come back one day.
(Image)
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