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The Twelve Isles
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Posts: 2307
Founded: May 15, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby The Twelve Isles » Sat Aug 24, 2019 11:46 pm

In part of Siona's background she was raised by a human ethnic group known as the Rotha, who are kinda like a cross between the Irish and the Gypsies. I hope thats OK, and if not I can always edit it so she is just a member of a caravan of traders rather than a distinct ethnic group. I just like it because I think it adds an interesting layer to how Siona ended up the way she is.



Name: Siona Willun, (Sometimes known by the peasants as the Black Raven, or the Dream Walker.)
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:
Image

Mage?: Yes
Bio: Siona Willun was born on the day her mother died, in a small, cold town on the northern coast of Eshon. Her father always felt that it was Siona's fault his wife died. But still, despite the resentment he felt for his only child taking away his wife, he was still an honorable man and vowed to raise her. He was a sellsword, but couldn't travel with mercenary bands with an infant daughter, and so he instead signed on as a guard for a travelling caravan of Rotha, an ethnic group who often made their livings as traders, merchants and entertainers. In this caravan, Siona found herself being raised by actors, rogues and merchants more so than her father. In particular, a family named Maadran who owned a nice covered wagon became much more like her real family, after Siona's father left her with them while he worked. She grew up with their children, was fed by their mother, and was taught how to trade by their father. She loved the Maadran's, and the Maadran's loved her. Though ethnically she was not Rotha, she was raised Rotha, and their values of kindness, curiosity and wanderlust where imparted onto her.

She was a smart child, and was well loved by her family of drifters and rogues, who all made sure she was fed and happy. She played with the other children, quickly establishing herself as their unofficial leader, and began to lead them on various missions to get sweets whenever they were in a town. They would steal from food carts, sneak into farms and steal chickens, and steal what few coins local children had by hustling them in various childhood games. In the towns their families visited for trade, the children of the caravan, and Siona in particular, were hated. There were many occasions when local guards and angry shopkeepers would tan the hides of the kids, but as far as Siona was concerned, there was safety in numbers for them. A shopkeeper could only catch one of them at a time, and with fifteen or so kids it greatly increased ones chance to escape with their plunder of sweet rolls and apples. Still, that didnt stop them from frequently returning to the caravans camp to find her if she escaped. After all, her pale skin, dark hair and dark eyes certainly stood out against the sea of red hair, green eyes and tan skin that was most Rotha. Ms Maadran always threatened to beat Siona bloody whenever the shopkeepers came back. Siona wasnt scared of her for that reason though, she knew Ms Maadra could never bring herself to actually hit her children. She could however make Siona return to town and work for whatever shopkeeper she had robbed, and that was always days of tedious, boring labor where there were no books to read at night and no adventures to go on in the day.

One day, when Siona was 10, her father took her aside and informed her that it was time he taught her to use a sword. She hated it, and her father was far from forgiving for her missteps while he taught her to fight with sticks. If she made a mistake, that was too bad, and he would bring his blows home with the same force as if she was a soldier in training. It made her want to win even more, and as she grew and got better, every time (though they were few and far between) she managed to hit her father back was a small victory. He not once congratulated her.

However, as she trained with the sword with her father, she learned something else about herself. She found that she could set things alight with her mind, or cause the leaves on tree's to freeze and wither. It scared her, and she was worried she would be seen as a freak, until she went to Ms Maadran, who told her that what she was doing was magic. Ms Maadran was a mage, though not a very proficient one, and when she wasn't out running with the other children or training with her father, Ms Maadran was helping to teach her to control her magic. It was slow going at first, but eventually she managed to learn to keep her magic in check, and began to buy (or often times steal) books on magic from local towns. She would practice on her own when the caravan was stopped, learning to control the wind, create fire at her fingertips, and chill the air around her. It made her feel powerful, and like she had a purpose. And one day, she even managed to summon a spirit animal, a black Raven.

When Siona was 17, she continued to travel, trade and swindle, but had grown sick of the passive aggressive and increasingly toxic relationship with her father. The training he insisted on continually left her covered in welts, and his lack of attention given to her as she grew up had left a mark on her opinion on the man who still insisted he had been the one to raise her, when in reality it had been the kindly Maadran family with the wagon who had. One day, as they trained, her frustration finally snapped. After her father had knocked her down one to many times in a single day, Siona stood, parried his next blow, and blasted him across the camp with a rush of wind. She flipped a small wagon, and toppled the stage back for the production the troupe was putting on. It was a moment of truth for her, one where she truly learned what it was that she was capable of. She did not speak to her father after that, but made her decision. It was time to leave.

Siona's goodbye was a painful one for most, as the caravan had come to love her for her mischievous nature. She always brought a little extra experience to their lives, and one never knew what kind of trouble she would bring on them next. But it was almost always fun. She hugged the Maadran family, who had become her true family, especially Ms Madraan who cried and insisted on sending Siona with plenty of home cooked food. She took one of her fathers swords with her. He protested, but did nothing to try and stop her. She knocked around with the guards, before giving them all hearty hugs. Cailish, the only Rotha man she knew who would openly cry, cried. With a wave over her shoulder, Siona set out on her own for the first time. Come sunset, a horse approached her from the direction she had come, her father sitting atop it. Siona met him in the middle of the road, and though they never exchanged a word, he extended his hand and she shook it. That was the last time she saw him.

Siona walked the roads, making her way north again the to the town where was born in. It was cold, colder than she expected, but a place where she was quickly welcomed when she told the people who her mother had been. Apparently, though she had never known it, her mother was the daughter of a rich merchant family in town, and had run off with her father in what had been a big scandal. They were called the Jalmords, and welcomed Siona into their home with open arms, showering her in gifts and attention. She liked it at first, especially the admiration they gave her for her magical ability, but soon she grew tired of it. It all felt superfluous and cheap, and was an apparent use of her presence to prove to the townspeople how good and kindhearted they were. But, there was one good thing that came form the Jalmords, and that was Josah Whels. He was an old and accomplished mage, a master of summoning, the magic school that Siona hoped to learn. Josah was kindly and understanding, and the two shared a mutual dislike of the Jalmords, only remaining in their household for the advantages it brought them. He encouraged Siona to leave, as she was still young and spry, and able to walk the roads.

Josah taught Siona for a year, helping her learn the ways of summoning. Siona learned to bring forth weapons from air, summon creatures from other realms, and signed a contract with Ravens, her spirit animal that allowed her to summon them to her at any time. She was informed by Josah that, had she been attending a magical college, she would likely be at the rank of adept at this point, and that if she wanted too, she could become a great mage. And then one day, a year and a half after Siona had arrived in the north, Josah died. He was an important part of the Jormonds household, giving them an air of mystery and advising them on many things, so his loss was a big hit for the house. They buried him like a king, and Siona said goodbye. She gathered up a fine cloak gifted to her, her sword and a pack full of books and scrolls, and set out into the cold northern winter, when the sun never rose and the Aurora shined in the sky. She promised to write the Jormonds, but never did. She didn't like them enough.

Siona traveled far and wide in the coming years, using her skills as a mage to earn her money. She grew colder, but never crueler, and took every opportunity that presented itself to learn. Much of her time was spent as a guard for caravans, just as her father had done, but she did much much more. She visited the campuses of the magical colleges, and read through their libraries. Many of the books she acquired she stole from those places, and she delighted in showing off to the mages there. But she never enrolled, preferring the wanderers lifestyle. After all, it was how she was raised. She wandered from town to town, and learned to meditate and study her dreams, and see into the dreams of othes. She made contracts with spirits and creatures, summoned storms from the north, and in a particularly dramatic adventure sealed the soul of a long dead Barrow King called the Aern Geoth, taking it on as her own personal summon. However, with no caravan of her own, life was lonely. She forgot how to interact with people outside of business deals, and grew detached from humanity. She was alone, and though she had seen the snow covered north and the vineyards of the south, it did not change the fact that she had no one left, and was lonely. On many occasions, she thought of tracking down the caravan of her childhood, and living out the rest of her days as a member of the Maadran family, as she had always been at heart. But, it just didn't feel right. At least, it wasn't the right time yet. She was too young, and she had begun to learn of the Keepers Of The Glass. These Keepers, they appealed to her. She didnt fully understand her abilities to walk dreams, but she figured if there was anyone who could teach her it was them. If only she could find a way to get their attention. So she searches for them, and collects knowledge as she travels, occupying a strange place in between the College Mages of the Magi Consortium, and Wanderers. She would solve peoples problems if they asked, and always tucked away any extra information or histories she could, her Rotha upbringing always telling her that stories must be saved and protected.

Fighting Style: Summoner.
Abilities:
  • Writs Of Sealing: Siona's favored combative style is summoning spirits she has made contracts with, and she has formed many contracts and sealed away many restless wraiths in her time. She know is capable of bringing these spirits back to fight for her.
  • Master Summoner: Siona has learned to summon, and uses it as her prefered form of combat. She most commonly summons spirits, though she is also capable of summoning other objects such as weapons, animals (most commonly crows and ravens) and even people. However, if it is a living and or sentient thing, she must first sign a contract with it, so that the creature agrees to be her servant and is not her slave.
  • Adept Of The Northern Winds: Siona was taught magic in the north, and therefore the elements she learned to harness were the cold temperatures and biting winds. Though she is not as proficient in using this magical skills as she is at necromancy, in a fight she can conjure up blasts of wind or freeze those she touches with her hands.
  • Magical Prodigy: Siona has an innate magical ability, and is if not a master of necromancy she is about as close to being one any other her age has ever gotten. As a result, magic comes easy to her, and is her greatest skill.
  • Dream Walker: What it is, Siona doesn't really know. But she can slip in and out of others dreams, and see who they are, as well as study her own dreams through careful meditation. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it does nothing, and other times she has seen things she wishes she hadn't.
  • Wandering Scholar: Though Siona has an innate affinity towards magic, she would never have been able to become as talented in it as she is if it weren't for her intelligence. Siona has a thirst for knowledge above all else, and wishes to grow her knowledge. She is an academic, and a studious mind, and it is due to her willingness to buckle down and do the research work that she is able to learn all the she has when it comes to magic and cultures.

Limitations:
[*]Its Still Sentient: To summons living things, or something that is sentient, Siona must first have written a contract and signed a Writ Of Sealing with the creature. After that, she must be physically touching the Writ Of Sealing, as well as offer her blood as sacrifice, to summon the creature to her.
[*]Skin Must Touch: For Siona to be able to freeze someone, she must physically touch them with her bare skin. It works best of she is touching their skin as well, but it is still fairly easy to freeze them through clothes. The hard part is getting close enough to actually get a hold on them.
[*]The Winds Are Fickle Masters: Siona is capable of summoning greats gusts of wind. She has done this by creating small magical tethers between the winds in the north and a pair of tattoos on her hands. However, though there are multiple tethers scattered across the north, where she draws her wind from, that doesn't mean the wind is always blowing. Siona may attempt to draw on the wind, and find the tether she is attempting to draw from is just simply to calm at the moment, forcing her to retreat and create the connection with another of her tethers before she can actually call on the wind.
  • Aloof: Siona has her own reasons for doing everything she does, and cares little for the opinions of others. She is aloof, and can be hard to gauge because of it, causing her to live a solitary lifestyle with few true friends or followers.
  • The Stories Are Only Stories: There are many stories told by the peasants about Siona, mostly arising from her famously sealing an ancient Barrow King known as the Damned Lord. However, though she is very talented, the exploits the peasants talk about are exaggerated. Some may find this fact disappointing when they meet her, upon the realization that she is not some all powerful being, but is just a young woman who happens to have a knack for magic.
  • Skinny: Siona is skinny. Sure, she can summon frightening spirits and cast powerful gusts of wind, but that will only get you so far. Anyone who manages to actually land a good hit on Siona, will likely be the one who defeats her.

Equipment:
  • [Insert Equipment]- Iron Short Sword (Fire rune recently added to it, hence Siona's lack of money. Once activated, the blade will become exceptionally hot, and the temperature likely will be able to set most clothing or similar it touches on fire with a touch.)
    - A steel dagger
    - A few lockpicks
    - Roughspun pants
    - white cotton shirt
    - Black silk cloak, with gold trimmings.
    - x3 Changes of clothes
    - Bronze earring
    - x15 Coins
    - Fine leather boots. (Now less fine, from all the walking Siona does.)
    - Master Ias Alachi's Book of Spells (book)
    - The Places Beyond, Studies Of The Wandering Sphere's And The Heavenly Bodies (book)
    - The Book Of Shadows (Book)
    - Jashe Miskatsonik's Book Of Creatures (Book)
    - Wraith Scroll (Has the summoning spell for a wraith inside.)
    - Raven Scroll (Contains Siona's contract with the Ravens, allowing her to summon them)
    - Scroll Of Snow (Allows Siona to summon a blizzard from the north.)
    - Writ of sealing (The sealed soul of an undead warlord from ancient times)
    - Scroll of the Spirit (Allows Siona to summon a friendly spirit, who she has singed a contract with)
    - Wolf scroll (A scroll that allows Siona to summon a spectral wolf)
    - Bag of salt (for some spells.)
    - Rabbits foot.


Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To learn all she can of the Keepers Of The Glass, and search them out to learn about her skills in Dream Walking, as she calls it.
Favorite Factions: The Magi Consortium, The Keepers Of The Glass, The Wanderers.
Least Favorite Factions: Athela, The Slayers Of The Crypt, The Holy Order Of Fire. (Though Siona can respect them, she also worries they are too fanatical and pose a danger to Eboris because of this.)
Favorite Memory: Sneaking away from the caravan with Adair when they were both sixteen, to kiss and do other things. First love truly is a magical thing.
Goals: Gather the worlds knowledge, and tell the stories of those she meets so that they are never forgotten.
Greatest Fear: That the Keepers Of The Glass will not hold the answers she seeks, and will be nothing more than a waste and a wild goose chase.
Religion: Pantheon. Follows the same gods as most Rotha, Imera, Datune and Benthoral.
Last edited by The Twelve Isles on Mon Aug 26, 2019 3:13 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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Union Princes
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Union Princes » Sun Aug 25, 2019 1:15 am

Hey, didnt think you're using the same character as before, Twelve Isles. Another necromancer
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The Twelve Isles
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Twelve Isles » Sun Aug 25, 2019 10:59 am

Union Princes wrote:Hey, didnt think you're using the same character as before, Twelve Isles. Another necromancer


Heeey, didn't think I would find you here.

Yeah, I use Siona a lot in fantasy RP's. She's a lot of fun because I dont really need to align myself with any factions. Since her goals are to record stories and knowledge, I can kind of take her anywhere without having her fall on either side of a conflict.

Im thinking Im probably gonna bring Rithi back as well. Rithi is fun.
Last edited by The Twelve Isles on Sun Aug 25, 2019 11:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
Proud member of the Federation Of Isles.

The Lamplighter will return in times of Blight.
When you are lost in darkness, search for the light.

"The crown and whales will always provide."

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Tomia
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Founded: Apr 13, 2013
New York Times Democracy

Postby Tomia » Sun Aug 25, 2019 8:56 pm

The Twelve Isles wrote: Siona Willun

App looks good Isles, I like the bio and all. However, I'm a little confused what you mean by summoning. On top of that, I think having summoning, elemental control, and necromancy is a bit much, I think two of those is probably better.

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The Twelve Isles
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Twelve Isles » Sun Aug 25, 2019 9:02 pm

Tomia wrote:
The Twelve Isles wrote: Siona Willun

App looks good Isles, I like the bio and all. However, I'm a little confused what you mean by summoning. On top of that, I think having summoning, elemental control, and necromancy is a bit much, I think two of those is probably better.


She mostly summons dead spirits. However, I think that could probably lumped into necromancy if you want. Sort of like a less creepy version of necromancy, seeing as she's only bringing back the spirits and not forcing the bodies to fight. Does that seem reasonable?
Proud member of the Federation Of Isles.

The Lamplighter will return in times of Blight.
When you are lost in darkness, search for the light.

"The crown and whales will always provide."

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Tomia
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Posts: 15654
Founded: Apr 13, 2013
New York Times Democracy

Postby Tomia » Sun Aug 25, 2019 9:10 pm

The Twelve Isles wrote:She mostly summons dead spirits. However, I think that could probably lumped into necromancy if you want. Sort of like a less creepy version of necromancy, seeing as she's only bringing back the spirits and not forcing the bodies to fight. Does that seem reasonable?

So what do you imagine her doing with the spirits she summoned then? Would they be able to attack despite not having physical bodies?

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The Twelve Isles
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Twelve Isles » Sun Aug 25, 2019 9:24 pm

Tomia wrote:
The Twelve Isles wrote:She mostly summons dead spirits. However, I think that could probably lumped into necromancy if you want. Sort of like a less creepy version of necromancy, seeing as she's only bringing back the spirits and not forcing the bodies to fight. Does that seem reasonable?

So what do you imagine her doing with the spirits she summoned then? Would they be able to attack despite not having physical bodies?


I assumed they could attack in some way. Probably through some sort of magic. If thats acceptable of course.
Proud member of the Federation Of Isles.

The Lamplighter will return in times of Blight.
When you are lost in darkness, search for the light.

"The crown and whales will always provide."

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Tomia
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Founded: Apr 13, 2013
New York Times Democracy

Postby Tomia » Mon Aug 26, 2019 4:32 pm

The Twelve Isles wrote: Siona Willun

Accepted!

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The Twelve Isles
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Twelve Isles » Mon Aug 26, 2019 5:35 pm

Finished.

Name: Rithi Stoneswallow
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:
Image

Mage?: Yes (Barely)
Bio: Rithi Stoneswallow was the daughter of fishers, in the Kingdom Of Dascus. Her early years were a charmed life, playing in the many streams that surrounded their house and running wild with the other children of her village. Her father taught her how to fish from a young age, a skill she never forgot even as it became an unused one. Her mother taught her the value of being sociable, and she learned to speak well and confidently. This skill she still often uses, and is a charmer and con artist because of it. She could haggle down a Rotha trader, and could talk her way out of a murder investigation.

Sadly however, Rithi's parents died when she was seven years old. Her mother and father had been out fishing when their boat tipped, her father cracked his head and both were sent down the rapids while her mother tried to save him. Unsure of what to do with Rithi, her village sent for the only relative of her family that was still alive, her fathers brother. Her Uncle Elston lived a few villages over, near the largest town in the county. He ran an inn, and made a good living renting out rooms to the travelers, though he was a noted womanizer. He was onto his second official wife, though everyone knew he had far more women out and about than just the one he was officially married to. He took Rithi in with open arms, and despite his reputation proved to be a kind and understanding man. He had no children of his own, his wife was infertile. Though her Uncle Elston did all in his power to make Rithi feel at home and like his own child, his wife, Misasha, resented Rithi. She felt that Rithi took up what little attention Elston ever paid to her. There were things that needed to be done around the inn, things that used to get done, even if barely. But now, Elston set off to find any girls who were willing, and instead of taking care of the bare minimum in the inn he took his niece to the town for market day, or brought her to the fairs and plays whenever a Rotha caravan came through town. Rithi was a disruption, and she wanted her gone or to do something to earn her keep.

Rithi for her part, cared little about what Misasha thought of her. Uncle Elston was plenty of fun and made her feel at home, and she had already gotten in good with the local children. They all were immediately impressed by her ability to read, and get into and then back out of Farmer Shasta's apple tree's without his dog catching and mauling her. Everyone was scared of Farmer Shasta's dog, but Rithi routinely would run out and climb the tree's, filching great big apples to share with her friends. And as time went on, being in the inn where everyone congregated to drink at night, Rithi heard all the secrets, which she doled out to any who could give her something interesting in return. In time, Rithi became known amongst the children as the bravest and sneakiest of the all. And her fame only increased after she ran afoul of old Kolin Blackwood, a handsome young man of fourteen who all the older girls loved and who delighted in tormenting the younger ones. But Rithi, needing to keep up appearances of fearing nothing, fought with him often through a long and drawn out game of insults, pranks and trickery. Her crowning achievement was when, after Kolin had gotten her in trouble with Misasha for stealing a travelers boots (something that she had had no part in,) she pushed him into the mud in front of Semni Hellensbard, the prettiest girl in town. She laughed and laughed at Kolin for letting a little skinny girl like Rithi make a fool out of him, and any and all chances Kolin had had with Semni vanished like smoke on a windy day.

When Rithi was eleven, her Uncle Elston died as well. He was traveling to the town for Market Day, Rithi had chosen to stay behind and play, when his horse was spooked and he was thrown. He cracked his head just like her father had, and died out on the road. Misasha turned on Rithi instantly, and tried to get rid of her, and would have, if Rithi had not pointed out that with Elston gone there was no way Misasha would be able to run the inn by herself. She would need help, and though Rithi was small she was strong enough, and was the only one around who knew how and wouldn't need to be trained. Misasha had no choice but to concede, and Rithi was allowed to stay. She worked hard, but was bored. She read constantly, and her head was filled with dreams of travelling around and learning magic. Life was boring as an innkeeper, and had been far more exciting running around with her friends and fighting with Kolin. But life continued on, for a year and a half, until a mysterious stranger came to the inn one day. She was tall for a woman, and wore a long black cloak and a sword, with strange tattoos on her hands and a Rotha accent despite her black hair. Talking to her, Rithi learned it was Siona Willun, a travelling mage who she had heard stories of. People said she was a magical prodigy, a genius in summoning and master of the winds. Rithi had to learn from her, she would do anything.

She accompanied Siona on a trip into the town, her first time there in years, where she witnessed Siona in a bar fight, and though Siona initially refused top teach her she did give Rithi books before setting off on the road again. There was no choice, Rithi would have to follow. She simply refused to be taught magic by anyone else. Taking the long knife Misasha kept under the bar and an old wool travel cloak, Rithi set off after Siona. She kept her distance, afraid that Siona would send her back to the inn if she caught her. She observed, hiding in the woods but always making sure she was close enough to follow Siona's tracks. Eventually, by pure accident, she caught up to Siona while the young woman ate her lunch on a rock. Siona simply turned around and began to head home, figuring thats what Siona would do, but was surprised when Siona agreed to take her with her. She showed Rithi proper meditation techniques, and helped her learn to focus her breathing and concentrate on conjuring up flames and fire. She could hardly do anything, but for the first time shew as doing real magic, and was being taught by a true master. A genius even. Her life was looking up, and together with her new master the two set out to find the army near Haldens Hill, where Siona hoped to find a Keeper and where Rithi hoped to see the fairy tales she loved so much occur in real life.
Fighting Style: Apprentice Mage.
Abilities:
  • [Cheeky Scamp]: Rithi is, for lack of a better word, a rascal. She delights in stealing things, eavesdropping, and generally causing a nuisance. Though this can be frustrating, it can also work to her advantage, as she has become very good at hiding and running away from people angry at her, as well as getting into and out of places she probably isn't supposed to be in.
  • [Charmer]: Though Rithi loves lying and cheating, like any spunky kid should, she is quite charming as well. She has very little if any brawn, but she is quite funny and pleasant to be around when she wants to be. And she has quite the way with words, being able to haggle down a Rotha trader if you were to put her up to it.
  • [Basic Magic]: Rithi is the apprentice of the mage Siona Willun, and has begun to pick up some basic spells. None of them are particularly useful, only little spurts of flame and some basic meditation techniques, but with Rithi's quick wittedness she could likely find a way to make use of them if it really came to it.

Limitations:
  • [You Little Shit!]: Rithi may be quick on her feet and have a slippery pair of hands, but those aren't exactly traits one should cultivate. Though Rithi is funny and charming when people first meet her, the charm quickly wears off when too many of their things go missing around her. It may help a little if people were able to actually catch her, but she's far to fast, and so most resort to simply disliking her and making them get out of their stores.
  • ["I Dont Like You, And I Dont Care."]:Rithi needs to learn how to shut the fuck up sometimes. Sooner or later, her big mouth is going to get her into some trouble she cant get herself out of.
  • [Thieving Child]: Stop stealing things Rithi.

  • Equipment:
    • [Long Dagger]: Rithi has no sword, she is too small for one, so she carries a long steel dagger instead. She doesn't really know how to use it, but its better than nothing.
    • [Travel Cloak]: A simple wool cloak. Its far from fancy or fine, but its warm and keeps the rain off.
    • [Elegant Boots]: Rithi stole em from Kolin, the neighbor boy. "Fuck you Kolin!"
    • [Simple Dress]: Better than some girls dresses, but still only the dress of an inn girl. Its simple and unspectacular.
    • [Book Of Fairy Tales]: Rithi loves fairy tales, and reads them religiously. Only book she owned, before meeting Siona Willun.
    • [The Book Of Spellcraft: A Beginners Guide To The Ways Of Magical Practice]: A book on magical basics. Rithi hates it. "When do we get to the good stuff, like putting curses on people and talking to animals?"
    • [Meditation Book: Guides To Splitting The Mind, And Seeing Beyond The Conscious]: Summoning is a delicate art, and requires great mental acumen to practice. The first step is learning the proper meditation techniques, and so Rithi must practice. Which she hates. "I don't understand how focusing on my stupid brain is gonna make me summon wraiths! You're just a crock aren't you Siona, I don't know why I follow you!"
      (Note, you do not have a maximum or minimum of 2 equipment. If you don’t need all those, delete them. If you need more, copy and paste. If it is a special piece of equipment please include a description. Also keep in mind your character’s background and what sort of wealth they would have as this greatly influences your starting equipment)
    [/list]


    Optional Questionnaire
    Personal Quest: Learn the ways of magic, and see the world.
    Favorite Factions: The Wanderers and the Repentant. Both feature frequently in Rithi's fairy tales, and so she has taken to idolizing them.
    Least Favorite Factions: The Bank Of Asharr. They take advantage of the small folk, manipulating and badgering them to squeeze every last drop of coin from them. And as an orphaned daughter of fishers who grew up with innkeepers, Rithi is most certainly a member of the small folk.
    Favorite Memory: When she pushed the neighbor boy Kolin into the mud in front of the girl he was sweet on. That'll teach him to mess with Rithi Stoneswallow!
    Goals: Get her name in the history books, so that the peasants will tell stories about her.
    Greatest Fear: Being a nobody for her whole life.
    Religion: Pantheon. Or at least, that's what her aunt always told her.
    Last edited by The Twelve Isles on Tue Aug 27, 2019 11:30 pm, edited 2 times in total.
    Proud member of the Federation Of Isles.

    The Lamplighter will return in times of Blight.
    When you are lost in darkness, search for the light.

    "The crown and whales will always provide."

    Emperor Tyrus Willun The Conqueror.

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    Segral
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    Founded: Sep 06, 2017
    Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

    Postby Segral » Sun Sep 01, 2019 3:33 pm

    Name: Claire Dione
    Age: 27
    Gender: Female
    Race: Merfolk
    Appearance (pics if possible):
    Image
    (Note that the trident is not entirely accurate, it is painted in the same color but is made of a mixture of bone, not metal. I can't find a better pic, so we'll have to settle for some inaccuracy.)

    Mage?: Magic? Who needs magic when you have weapons?

    Bio:
    Claire Dione was born into a small pod of a few dozen, living in a small village comprised of caves and labyrinths. The pod's specialty was the farming and breeding of special swordfish. These swordfish were massive, with sharper blades, sharper minds, longer lifespans, and glittery scales that made them a treat to look at. These swordfish were used for both meat and money, being either harvested or sold in the markets of nearby towns/cities in Molokai or Treodor. It was a peaceful, "rural" lifestyle, with days spent tending to the patches of swordfish, playing with them, and playing with fellow merchildren. After all, being born in a tangled mess of caves and chutes gives you plenty of places to play as a child.

    However, life was hard for breeders. It took days to travel to large cities due to the remoteness of the cave village, and even when they got there, they were often met with little money and few offers for the fish due to the size and danger of the fish. They were often forced to eat their own fish for sustenance, further shrinking their breeding abilities and decreasing their stock. To make matters worse, the fealties for security and protection were harsh, and the taxpayers were merciless. And yet, nothing ever got better, no matter how much they contributed. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and the rules had to be broken.

    One thing that was always popular in Molokai (especially in the small towns) was theatre. And there came the strokes of genius. The older members of the pod would travel to nearby towns with swordfish in tow, and hold secret betting rings where merfolk would bet on swordfish fights, similar to the human practice of dog-fighting. Despite them trying their best to keep the swordfish alive in the ring, there would often be deaths, and they were always gory. However, it was a financial success. The money kept coming in, and things became better. Food was more plentiful, life was easier, the money for fealty was always found. That is, until the rings were discovered after a visitor tipped off and reported the rings.

    The king's soldiers traveled to the village and swiftly arrested the pod for several crimes, intending to try and imprison them. Claire was just 11 at the time, but she knew she had to hide. Some older children in the village from ages 13-16 swept up the girl, taking them with her as they hid from the oncoming soldiers. They knew they had to flee or they would be captured. So that's what they did. They snuck to the pen of swordfish, picked one apiece, climbed on their backs, and rode away silently, using the network of caves to avoid capture. After days of hiding in the caves, living off seaweed and small fish, they emerged and fled into the open seas away from Molokai, frightened and alone.

    For years, they lived here as nomads, hunting prey and building nets out of seaweed. For years, they lived like this, travelling across the deep waters as they hunted and gathered for food and clothing. Oysters were a godsend, providing meat and threads for their nets. But it wasn't enough. They needed more money, and they needed to eat. No longer were they children, they were adults, and their swordfish were growing as well. They needed more than what nets could give them. So they turned to the same path as their elders; crime.

    Their first attack was sloppy, but successful. A small fishing boat had been caught in a storm and ended up in deep water, praying for help. But they did not receive it. They were attacked in the dead of night by the group, now all over 20 years old. The swordfish smacked their massive tails into the side of the boat, capsizing the vessel and knocking the members off the deck. With the boat clear, the gang sprung into action, grabbing nets of fish off the boat before it sank. None of the crew members survived due to the rough waters, and the group walked away with fresh food and bones, both animal and human. Bones that could be used to build what they sorely needed, weapons.

    Over the weeks, they hunted down bigger prey in the open sea, and harvested the bones for weapons. They had been taught how to do so in their village for daggers and such, but they advanced it to swords made of ribcages, shields made of human skulls and oyster threads, arrows made of the bones of large fish and seabirds. Byssal threads were the perfect twine, fat and mollusc juice made great paint and glue. And their ship conquests became larger. They developed tactics, techniques. They would circle boats, fire arrows from afar, throw knives to cut down the nets into the water, poked holes in the sails. They became the bane of Treodor's sailors and sea bandits alike, as they had no disrection as to who they robbed, plundered, and killed. They were ruthless, often leaving no survivors for the fear of being caught, and those that did remember only had vague recollections of the events. They became known only as the Merfolk Thieves, and they were of urban legend in the docks of Treodor and towns of Molokai. No soldiers bothered to look for them, the open seas were deserts to them. Only the Thieves knew of the shipping routes of Treodor ships, which came after many cases of trial and error. Their identities were never known, so they often waltzed into nearby villages under a disguise to keep abreast of surface affairs. But, their golden years could not last long.

    They became cocky after countless successes, and let their guard down. During a raid on a ship of pirates, they were met by two Storm Chaser vessels, which quickly opened fire on the group with harpoons and cannons. Two were harpooned, and the other three, including Claire, fled, splitting apart in the hope of losing their enemies. Claire only had time to briefly find their resting spot before she fled with meager possessions. She was not found, but she had lost her community, her pod of over a decade.

    She spent months, years traveling west, away from Treodor, before going north up the coastline. It was just her and her steed for months as they travelled across the open seas, biding their time and hoping to run into the others that had survived. Alas, no such luck. However, when she turned the corner onto the north side of the continent, next to Athela, she caught wind of great battles occurring. All she knew was how to fight, she had no other purpose. Best see what she could do. She had let go of her sword and shield in favor of a trident in the hopes of being less easily identifiable, and it had been years since the raids had stopped. Maybe she could turn a new leaf over. And so, upon finding a river leading inland near the border of Dascus and Athela, she quickly swam in, and has been searching for new horizons ever since.


    Fighting Style: Warrior.

    Abilities:
    • Combat Experience: Claire has spent most of her life raiding ships and looting treasure, so it's no surprise that she is an expert in the field of combat. She does most of her fighting with a trident, either going two-handed or going with one hand on the trident and the other on a shield. It's deadly in combat, as she is incredibly quick and often likes to catch opposing blades and weapons in the prongs of her trident, disarming enemies and using quick jabs for the kill. Claire is also a force to be reckoned with on swordfish-back, thanks to disorienting maneuvers and unpredictable movements.

    • Riding Ability: Claire and her gang of thieves are known for their use of massive swordfish in battle, which her pod had been breeding for generations. These swordfish are often ten feet long or more, with blades of up to five feet in length. Thanks to their massive hearts and slick figures, they are able to swim at quick speeds of 60-80 miles per hour for long periods of time (although they are often ridden at slower speeds for the sake of control and multitasking), and can live up to thirty years. They were used by her pod for money and food, but Claire's group uses them for hunting and warfare.

      Due to growing up with these fish, Claire is adept at riding them, particularly her steed Donnell. No matter the weather or foe, it's almost impossible to knock her off her steed, and she is an expert at fighting fishback. She often uses Donnell as a way to keep enemies distracted, with Donnell poking enemies with his sword and allowing Claire to corner her enemies before delivering fatal blows. Plus, it looks flashy and generally scares away any fellow pods, a function more useful than any other.

    • Warrior Spirit: Claire generally has a fervent attitude towards battle, and throws her 110% into every fight she's in. Some would call her "courageous", others would call it "overzealous", some would call it "insane". Either way, it means she is committed and headstrong in a fight, refusing to back down unless death is a certainty. Even if there's just a slight chance of victory, even if she's practically bleeding out, she will continue to battle to the end.



    Limitations:
    • Donnell: Donnell's certainly stronger than the average swordfish, but he is not invincible. His speed maxes out at roughly 65 miles per hour, and even then, Claire usually has to keep him at a slower cruising pace of 20-30 MPH, meaning he often doesn't even get to use his maximum speed (which is mostly used during chases/quick getaways). His blade is certainly sharp, could leave a nasty wound in a human being, but it is no stronger than the average steel sword due to its thin quality. And above all else, Donnell is just a fish all things considered, only slightly tougher than the average swordfish due the massive amount of fat and flesh on his bones. A good magical strike or a powerful harpoon to a vital area is all that is needed to take him out.

    • No Legs: As is (very) clear, Claire has no legs, she has a tail. Meaning she can't walk on land, and is restricted to the water. Which can make fighting...difficult at times.

    • Breakable Weapons: Unlike other weapons, which are made of tough metals such as steel, Claire's trident and shield are made of bone (as well as swordfish needles on her trident). As a result, while her weapons are decently tough, they have a tendency to wear down easily and break, needing frequent replacement. As a result, this can leave her vulnerable if her weapon breaks mid-fight.

    • Minimal Defense: Claire wears very little armor, using only shoulder/upper-back plates, light covering for the upper part of her tail and a helm for the face. This helps keep her extremely mobile in battle and prevents her armor from weighing her down. However, this also leaves much of her lower torso and the end of her tail exposed, meaning she can sustain a grievous wound if she is not careful. And is she ever careful?


    Equipment:
    • Weaponry: Claire carries two pieces of weaponry for battle, a painted trident made of bone (pictured in Appearance), which is her main weapon in battle. The thicker bones make up the main shaft, while thinner, whittled ones roped together with threads make up the prongs, allowing for thin, stiff spikes.

    • Armor: Claire prefers to keep her armor light (pictured in Appearance), wearing only a painted helm, a series of shoulder and back plating to protect her neck and upper torso, and a skirt-like structure at her waist to protect the upper portion of her tail. All of this is made of bone.

    • Gear: Aside from the vital gear, Claire carries some vital supplies as well, in both a belt and a knapsack made of byssal threads. However, she currently has little in these due to the attack that forced her upstream. The belt holds some spare looted coins for small purchases, and the knapsack contains some small rations of fish that she hunted along the way, as well as a sleeping bag made of byssal threads.

    • Donnell: Finally, there is her most prized possession; her swordfish Donnell. Donnell is sixteen feet in length, with an 11-foot long body and a 5-foot long blade. Like his giant swordfish brethren (but unlike most swordfish), Donnell's belly and sides are covered in glistening scales, which give his skin some durability. He is also more intelligent than some of his fellow swordfish, with better senses and more aggressive, battle-oriented mindset. Claire often rides him into battle with a special technique, folding her tail behind her into a coil position and sitting atop Donnell's back, almost like kneeling. This allows her to keep balance using the end of her tail and get off quickly in a bad situation. Donnell is also equipped with a harness and saddle made of byssal threads.



    Optional Questionnaire
    Personal Quest: To reunite with the old members of her pod that she lost, both of thieves and the village she grew up in.

    Favorite Factions: She is not particularly inclined towards any Factions, but she thinks the Merry Men of the Vine are a very fun lot. Also has an affinity for The Street Crawlers, due to their common ground when it comes to their fields of work.

    Least Favorite Factions: In particular, she despises the Storm Chasers, as they often interfere with her work (and her responsible for the loss of her pod). Any Storm Chaser near her is bound to find themselves with a trident at their throat. She also thinks The Foresters are a bunch of fools prohibiting progress from taking place, and finds them soft.

    Favorite Memory: Plundering her first ship with her pod and the celebratory feast of seafood afterward.

    Goals: To be rich, and to go down in the books of history, whether positively or negatively. Also, maaaybe learn how to read and write, because she can't really do that quite yet.

    Greatest Fear: Death. Particularly, losing Donnell.

    Religion: None. She thinks it's a pile of dung.
    yea bro idk

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    Tomia
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    New York Times Democracy

    Postby Tomia » Sun Sep 01, 2019 4:26 pm

    Segral wrote: Claire Dione

    Accepted, great app Seg! Feel free to join the discord as well

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    The Vekta-Helghast Empire
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    Ex-Nation

    Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Mon Sep 02, 2019 2:10 pm

    Oooooh, very interesting.

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    Northwest Slobovia
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    Anarchy

    Worldbuilding: Shelkinjé (WIP)

    Postby Northwest Slobovia » Mon Sep 02, 2019 5:04 pm

    The Great City of Shelkinjé

    Map of Shelkinjé
    Image


    General

    Shelkinjé is one of the largest cities in Dascus, if not the largest. Physically, it's almost 15 miles across, the latest tax investigation found 134,000 households in the city, along with almost 59,000 businesses. The Black River, a major trade route, flows though Shelkinjé, as does the smaller Stream of Peridot. The city's great bridges provide the only crossing points across the Black River for several days travel in either direction, so many roads join at Shelkinjé as well. Notable among them is the Tolind Road, leading to the iron mining and smelting town of the same name, and the River Highway, a wide, paved road running along the Black River.

    The Avenues and Silver Horses

    Shelkinjé's size is possible only because magic has overcome the limits of mere mundane foot and mounted travel. Shelkinjé's runesmiths and enchanters build the marvelous Silver Horses. Each has the strength of a team of four living horses, and can maintain a steady six miles an hour indefinitely. Not only are they superior to living horses, but no living ones or other livestock are permitted with the city, to keep the manure problem to a minimum. All travelers must stable their mounts on arrival; should they wish, they can rent Silver Horses instead. (Silver Horses are never sold, and their enchantments prevent them from leaving the city in any case. Travelers seeking similar magical mounts should visit Wizards' Row to speak to those in the business of making them.)

    Six miles an hour is still rather slow for travel in Shelkinjé. The avenues are enchanted as well to speed and improve travel further. On the avenues, the Silver Horses can make a steady 15 miles an hour. Pedestrians will find that walking, even quickly, doesn't tire them. The avenues are magically lit as well; an overhead twilight glow keeps the darkness at bay.

    Riding a Silver Horse or walking aren't the only ways to travel on the avenues. Carriage taxies pick up and drop off fares, and there are several businesses providing scheduled, fixed-route service with large carriages drawn by teams of Silver Horses as well.

    Faster transportation can be had in Shelkinjé; see the entries for the Dockyards and Wizards' Row for details.

    The Districts

    Like all large cities, Shelkinjé has areas with distinctive characteristics to them. There are two main market districts, a number of districts offering providing specialized goods and services, and districts which are almost entirely residential.


    Market Districts

    Iron Market is the city's main market. Originally it was what its name suggests: a place for iron arriving on the Tolind Road to be sold. It first expanded to include buying and selling all metals and metal goods, and then to include grain, which concentrated Shelkinjé's bakeries there. Now, it's the largest market, offering a huge array of goods and services. Everybody in the city comes to Iron Market frequently; it serves everybody from the richest to the poorest.

    Like all major markets, Iron Market also attracts crime. Shoppers should beware of pickpockets, thieves, and robbers, who persist despite vigorous patrolling by the City Guard. There are also frauds and fences as well, as well as illegal goods and services. One just needs to know where to ask.


    Once the city's only, and then main market area, New Market now serves Shelkinjé's better-off residents, the middle and upper classes. While all common goods are available, New Market specializes in some trades. As Cloth Town is nearby, this is where most people buy their clothing, their bedding, upholstered furniture, and other soft goods. Utilitarian stoneware is available, as well: it's cheaply glazed, but very durable.

    Several alchemy schools and suppliers operate in New Market as well. Second Avenue Alchemy Works sells preservative drops, so New Market is the only place in Shelkinjé where fresh milk and eggs are sold, both available plain and with drops already added. (Sadly, the drops don't work well on meat and other solid foods.) New Market also provides most of Shelkinjé's soap, lotions, perfumes, and ointments.

    The three largest of them are:

    • Second Avenue Alchemy Works – the Works is the largest alchemy school and supplier in Shelkinjé. Originally starting as a one-man storefront selling alchemical lotions, Second Avenue gradually expanded into broader areas of alchemy, and then started providing lessons. Now, it provides training in alchemy suitable for novices to masters, in all areas of alchemy. It also sells a huge array of finished alchemical products as well as raw alchemical ingredients, refined essences, and equipment.

      Its only drawback is cost. Beginner classes are inexpensive, but tuition goes up steeply in the level of training. Raw materials are only a little bit more expensive than elsewhere in the city, the price of a large selection. However, essences and equipment are both costly. They are, however, the best in the city.
    • Need two more, please
    • Need two more, please


    Specialty Districts

    Once the free city of Nyapelus, now an autonomous walled district, Cloth Town makes all of Shelkinjé's textiles and dyes. Most are typical dyes, but the area is known for a few pigments specifically:
    • Old Green: a deep, colorfast green. It is the darkest shade Cloth Town makes, and it has been made since before incorporation into Shelkinjé. Only used for good clothing and fancy soft goods due to its cost.
    • New Green: apparently a family of dyes, making a range of shades and tints from medium green to true blue. No dark shades are available, though. The bluer shades of New Green tend to fade over time.
    • Canary Yellow: as it says on the label. It wears extremely well.
    • Nyapelus Red: a scarlet dye, colorfast and very pricey. Using it in abundance is a sign of wealth. Despite the name, it's the newest pigment.

    While most of Nyapelus' pottery industry has been overwhelmed by the greater variety of wares that come out of Clangansmoke, Cloth Town does still make a little pottery. It's known for the stoneware sold in New Market, and exported to other cities.

    There is also an alchemy school in Cloth Town, but it provides only for the district's citizens, and it is thought to be part of the dye industry. On the other hand, the area is also known for its schools, subsidized for citizens, but available for fees to others. Childrens' and young teens' reading, writing, and rhetoric are taught, as is mathematics at all levels. It's not a bad place to look for tutors in other mundane subjects, but tutors and schools for them are scattered around the city.


    This avenue is dominated by five major schools of magic, as well as numerous smaller ones and private tutors, along with many businesses selling magical goods. Prices and quality vary dramatically, and don't always vary together. Buyers, even those with training in Magika, should know who they're dealing with. Nevertheless, if one is searching for the arcane in Dascus, it's best to try Wizards' Row first. Except, of course, for alchemy and its products, where one should start in New Market.

    The big-five magic schools are:

    • Yupari Institute – a major school for learning magic, like a large state university. While it teaches a broad range of magical arts, its best departments are air magic, conjuration, enchantment, fire magic, illusion, and plant magic. It's on West River Avenue, next to Royal Park.
    • Glen Arras Academy of Earth and Fire – a smaller magic school, more like a research institute. It provides only intermediate and advanced training, being mostly focused on advancing magical knowledge and practice. As its name indicates, it focuses on just two areas, fire magic and earth magic, and their intersection, runesmithing. The fire school is known for teaching fire reading, a specialized form of pyromancy.

      For practical runesmithing reasons, the Academy also provides training in the mundane arts of mining, smelting, and metal smithing, as well as how earth and fire magic can be applied to them. The Academy is the northernmost large school on Wizard's Row.
    • Somebody wanna make up another one?
    • Somebody wanna make up another one?
    • Somebody wanna make up another one?

    Magical flying carriages are available for rent along Wizards' Row. Their speeds range from merely faster than the Silver Horses to the astounding, and are furnished in the same range of comfortable to luxurious styles. Prices start very high, and go up from there.

    Flying carriages can't be taken outside Shelkinjé, and can't even be brought within 100 yards of the city wall (or the citadel, Old Bridge, or Cloth Town. Overflying Royal Park is also forbidden). Flying carriages are only rented by the day, however, paid in advance, sometimes with additional security deposits for out-of-towners. They'll return to their owners the following dawn.


    Shelkinjé's slaughterhouses and tanneries are located here, providing raw materials for the butchers in the markets and the clothing, furniture, and leather goods makers in New Market. East Wall, and streets to the nearby city gate, are the only places in Shelkinjé where one ever sees livestock. As a result of the manure, the leather-making, and the slaughterhouses, this area is also known as Stinktown. Not surprisingly, it's downwind of the rest of the city. It's also the poorest area of the city, and visiting at night without armed escort isn't recommended.


    Shelkinjé's main river docks and warehouses. While there are many piers along the river, this is where most riverine trade arrives and departs, since it's adjacent to Iron Market, and across the bridges from New Market. (While the Black River is hundreds of yards wide at this point, having wharfs on both sides of the river between the markets led to too many collisions, so they've been all moved here.) The warehouses back up against, and spill into, the rear of Iron Market.

    Like Iron Market, the Dockyards serves all kinds; the rough and tumble mixes with the genteel. The dockyards also builds some riverboats, but is not a major producer of them.

    River transport is also available in Shelkinjé. Fast river taxis, with runesmithed hulls and enchanted sails, ply the Black River and Stream of Peridot within the city. They travel between twice and thrice the speed of Silver Horses, and like the flying carriages, are appointed in a variety of styles. Prices are expensive, but less so than flying carriages, and they can be paid for by the ride, by the ride with waiting for return, or simply by the hour. Because of their speed, river taxes only operate during the day in good weather.

    The River Sisters is a riverine passenger line, offering scheduled service to a number of docks between the Dockyards and Sherod's Bridge on the Black River, and from the Dockyards to the southwestern side of Old Bridge Gardens on the Stream of Peridot. Their ships are a bit more than 50% faster than Silver Horses, but the prices are only somewhat higher than those on the avenue carriage lines. First- and second-class cabins are available for higher rates, but those offer modestly-priced snacks, drinks, and light meals. There are usually carriage taxis waiting at the docks for the River Sisters to arrive.

    Unlike the river taxis, River Sisters vessels carry brilliant magic headlamps, and so can sail in bad weather and at night. Service starts at dawn and stops in the mid-evening, as the number of passengers falls.

    One River Sister ship travels to the next city upstream of Shelkinjé, which is otherwise a two-and-a-half day ride. There's one trip a day in each direction, leaving Shelkinjé's Dockyards at dawn, arriving around noon, and returning a few hours later for an after-dark arrival.


    Clangansmoke produces Shelkinjé's iron and steel goods, everything from cast iron cooking pots to fine steel for weapons and armor. Coal arrives on riverside docks from further up the Black River, is worked into steel with iron from Iron Market. Clangansmoke also makes cold-worked metal goods, mostly of copper, brass, and bronze, but also a little tinplate. All other base metal goods are imported.

    Most metalworkers maintain shops in Iron Market, and just have their forges and furnaces here, however, there are some shops along Blackrossing Avenue and First Avenue selling hardware.

    In addition, Clangansmoke manufactures most of the city's pottery, from cheap earthenware to fine, even gilded, porcelain. Like metal goods, most are sold elsewhere in the city, with most pottery going to Iron Market, but the fanciest porcelain being sent to shops in the Park District.

    Because of the coal smoke pouring out of the district's chimneys and the daily racket of smiths hammering metal into shape, Clangansmoke is not a desirable place to live. It's mostly working class, but that mixes with the lower classes and even poverty in places.


    Residential Districts


    The area surrounding Royal Park is the wealthiest in the city. The mayor's house is located just south of Royal Park, facing the park. Boutiques selling the finest and most exotic goods line West River Avenue, including Shelkinjé's only jewelry stores. Other than expensive goods, the selection is limited, as the rich just send their servants off to the other markets to buy necessities.


    When Shelkinjé expanded to include a watchtower on a tall hill, the watchtower was rebuilt as a walled keep. It became a major strongpoint on the city wall, overlooking the nearby gatehouse. The lower hills to the east of the keep were considered very safe places to build as a result, and with the fresh west wind blowing away city smells, this area grew into an district for the well-off.



    Since this is a work in progress, there are many things the city could use:
    • Names of the remaining avenues
    • Descriptions of more major businesses and schools
    • More Districts and their descriptions
    • ...and it wouldn't hurt to have smaller-scale maps of the markets and other frequently visited places
    Gollum died for your sins.
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    Absolon-7
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    Corrupt Dictatorship

    Postby Absolon-7 » Wed Sep 04, 2019 2:58 pm

    The Slayers of the Crypt Composition


    Slayers. One word that strikes fear into the hearts of necromancers and sentient undead
    Image
    wherever they may be in Eboris. Compared to a continent of millions they are a very, very small fraction of its peoples but their deeds and reputation is known far and wide. Through their own accounts the official number of Slayers is consistently 500~750 in every decennial census, including students.

    Hierarchy
    Grandmaster- Highest officer of the entire organization and the most powerful and skilled of them all, capable of killing a hundred men (living or undead) in a single fight by themselves. Their role is to institute policy and carry out large scale operations against necromantic orders and the most powerful of undead. The position is appointed from one of the Marshals and lasts for life.
    Marshals- A group of fourteen Slayers handpicked by the Grandmaster or nominated by the Councils and approved for their spot. The Grandmaster's direct subordinates that carry out his will and decisions. Each is an excellent warrior surpassing any normal Slayer.
    The Mausoleum Councils- regional councils made of seven Slayers that oversee the mundane policies and priorities of the order. Their duties include the collection on information, assigning missions to Slayers, administration of the Slayer schools that feed their manpower, and regulating the smaller support staff for the Slayers in their schools and secret bases. Their meetings are held in the conference halls of their respective Slayer schools biannually but two always stays to act as the academy's principal and vice-principal.
    Men-at-Arms- the vast majority of the order is made of men and women of this rank who have chosen to devote themselves to put the dead to rest in Ctholes name. While their quality varies each is an incredibly skilled warrior with years of training and combat skill among several others as such they are a level above your average fighter in some regards. A good portion of their career is spent hunting down the undead and those who create them of their own accord or by receiving assignments from the Councils transmitted through their magic crows.
    Candles- the smallest group in the order but also the most valuable. The students of the Slayer schools live in their school's dormitories are fed and clothed by the order and are left to their own recreation when not being given lessons. Students may travel along with a Men-at-Arms for single assignment every year.


    Armor of the Crypt Slayer Grandmaster

    Recruitment & Training
    Wherever they may be a Slayer is tasked to keep a lookout for potential recruits and to offer them a chance in joining the order. The training period for the Slayers of the Crypt is a four year course at one of their hidden schools and students live in dormitories, separated by sex, that are separate buildings from the school. The school themselves are modest compounds hidden in the far corners of the human realms and are often incredibly booby trapped to deter trespassers. Their instructors are usually retired Slayers or ones who are choosing to take a break for a year. During their four year curriculum, apprentices are given an incredibly rigorous course in academics but more importantly an extensive program in installing discipline through physical combat training which includes but is not limited to hand-to-hand self-defense techniques, wilderness survival, and general physical training to increase physical fitness to an acceptable degree for their age. Arguably the most important section of a Slayer's trove of knowledge is using their brain in sword fights. Their masters drill in to them a set of three different styles of fighting meant to focus on strong attacks, swift attacks, and dealing with groups. Each style has their own special techniques but the average Slayer usually hones one more then the others. Students are given three meals a day and given ample time for recreation and few holidays as over-stressed apprentices would make for poor Slayers. Occasionally they might be given a retreat led by an instructor to a major city or famous landmark.

    School of the Bear - located in southern Eshon by the mountains that feed the twin rivers that converge.
    School of the Cat - located in central Dascus.
    School of the Crane - located on one of Treodor's islands.
    School of the Griffon - located in southern Tashar.
    School of the Manticore - located in the border between the Hurelan Freelands and Dascus.
    School of the Viper - located in the border between Dascus and Antora.
    School of the Wolf - located in eastern Tashar by the mountain's bordering Hercynia and the river valley.

    Presence Throughout the Continent
    Scattered throughout Eboris are several sanctuaries for the Slayers, formally called an Ossuary, that vary in size and condition. These locations are uncommon to a degree as having too many would derail the order's secrecy but there exist enough in human lands where the stubborn enough can find them. They range from small abandoned shacks that only have the bare necessities to secret levels in buildings that give luxurious amenities. What they all share is the option for a Slayer to relax and care for their wounds for however much time they might need.

    On Nightshade Crows
    Undoubtedly one of the most valuable assets of the entire order is a monopoly on a particular breed of super intelligent crow. Their origin and how they fell in the hands of the Slayers is a closely kept secret in the higher ranks of the Slayers but most don't really care and simply appreciate their versatility. First and foremost is ability to memorize entire dialogues, speeches, and messages and repeat them as many times as necessary. This is coupled with being able to have a photographic memory of landscapes they are ordered to fly over. However this only last in periods they are awake as their stored memory seems to reset upon every rest. They seem to have some sort of consciousness as several are reported to have quirks or general eccentricities in their personality. Another noteworthy facet of them is their higher stamina and vastly longer lifespan than an average crow. Their breeding, rearing, and training is the responsibility of a retired Slayer given the special rank of Aviator as they oversee each school's aviary of Nightshade Crows. At every Slayer apprentice's second year they are assigned a Nighshade Crow in a special ceremony.

    Rituals & Practices
    WIP
    Last edited by Absolon-7 on Sun Sep 15, 2019 11:18 pm, edited 4 times in total.

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    Zarkenis Ultima
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    Democratic Socialists

    Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Thu Sep 05, 2019 2:35 pm

    I've added Siona, Rithi and Claire to the character list and I've removed several inactive characters from the roster. As always, if the players return, I'll be happy to add them back.
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    The Republic of Atria
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    Posts: 24401
    Founded: Nov 12, 2013
    Capitalist Paradise

    Postby The Republic of Atria » Thu Sep 05, 2019 8:00 pm

    Name: Flynt Zane
    Age: 22
    Gender: Male
    Race: Human
    Appearance: https://bigmemes.funnyjunk.com/pictures ... 954425.jpg
    Mage?: Very much so
    Bio: Flynt was born to a noble family in the Magi Consortium. As a result, he grew up around magic and enrolled the instant that he was of age. Choosing was a difficult task, but he opted for the house that centered on using one's life force to achieve whatever effects they desired. He got a skilled and fun teacher and learned quickly. All the reading he did when he was a child helping out as he learned to use his own life force to heal and attack. As with most newbies, he often felt drained and tired by the day's end. As he learned and grew more experienced, this became less of an issue, but even when he became proficient, he still felt that it was a bit too limiting when it came to their true potential. So, he began to spend more time in the vast library, looking for some spell that he could use to supplement using his own life as a resource.

    Months of reading and stashing ideas away for later, he came across a book that showed a spell that allowed the user to quite literally drain the life out of people. The history book stated that it was used by more "primitive" healers before "better" magic was developed. The book said that prisoners and undesirables were often used as fuel for the magic. He had no intention of using people like that unless it was a particularly dire situation and he had some people who society would want dead anyways. But there were plenty of pests around to use. Rats, mice, boars, rabbits, even deer in some cases. Less potent, but it was still better than only using his own. So he would often sneak out of his school and into the village, calling himself an exterminator. The people were perfectly happy to show him their pests that needed destroying.

    After catching a few rats and trying to actually get the spell to work, he left with a few piles of ash and a feeling of being slightly more awake. A little more energetic. To experiment, he went to practice on some of the injured that the town had no shortage of. He managed to fix at least one more person than usual before he felt drained. Afterwards, he returned to his dorm and spent the rest of the day relaxing and feeling good about the progress he made. He knew some of the old men who ran the Consortium would blow a blood vessel at the idea of using animals in their experiments because all too often it led to necromancy. While the idea of necromancy interested him, he was too focused on his own class to go try to raise the dead.

    This pattern continued for quite a while. He became more proficient with the draining spell, able to almost instantly kill any rats he came across, and make a little pocket money in the process. He even started going after larger prey after reading a few books on tracking animals. As a result of the extra energy had, he was scoring very well on his exams. Sadly however, one night where he was sneaking out, a teacher who was doing some late night errands caught him in the act of using his magic to drain a few rats into ash. Flynt didn't know about this until he was approached and then accosted by his teacher for doing such a thing. On the other hand, he did admit that Flynt was showing initiative when it came to his studies and that he would be defending him when it was taken to the people running the Consortium.

    Flynt knew that the old men in charge had very little vision and were often close minded. Guessing that they were just going to kick him out, he opted to pack what little belongings he had and leave. He had saved up a considerable amount of money from helping nearby towns deal with pest animals. So he purchased some nice robes and left the Consortium to go find people who would if nothing else, understand his desire for progress and learning.
    Fighting Style: Dark Mage
    Abilities:
    • Life Force Manipulation: Flynt has the magical ability to absorb life from living creatures and manipulate it for various effects. This acts as fuel for his abilities. While physical contact works the quickest, it has a fair range of about twenty feet. Smaller animals such as rats and rabbits can be subsumed within a few seconds, humans and other similar similar sized beings can take upwards of a minute before fully depleted. When used on a living thing, it has the effect of rotting away the body and leaving little more than a dry husk when done.
    • Healing: Using the stored energy, he can heal moderate injuries, but not diseases.
    • Amplification: If a person is as healthy as they can be at the moment, Flynt can grant them a temporary buff to whatever abilities they may have.
    • Disintegration: Flynt's one offensive ability. A dark blue beam that rips apart flesh and bone and leaving nothing left. A powerful, albeit costly ability.
      Limitations
      • Resource Dependent: Flynt needs his fuel in order to make his magic work. Without it, his magic will be much more limited.
      • Disintegration: While exceptionally powerful against fleshy/lightly armored targets, heavier/metal armor is able to withstand it with very little damage.
      • Squishy Mage: He's powerful, but not much of a fighter, being lightly armored and armed with only a dagger in close quarters.

      Equipment:
      • [Enchanted Robes:] Protected against the elements, keeps him cool when it's warm, warm when it's cold, dry when it's raining.
      • [Travel Kit:] A basic kit with a small tent, bedroll, pouch for money, and a few water skins.
      • [Dagger:] A dagger. Duh.


    Optional Questionnaire
    Personal Quest:
    Favorite Factions: Anyone who likes and appreciates magic
    Least Favorite Factions: Anything to do with elves.
    Favorite Memory: Disintegrating a herd of boars while some townsfolk watched in awe.
    Goals:
    Greatest Fear:
    Religion:

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    Tomia
    Post Marshal
     
    Posts: 15654
    Founded: Apr 13, 2013
    New York Times Democracy

    Postby Tomia » Fri Sep 06, 2019 5:08 pm

    [quote="The Republic of Atria";p="36192043"]Name: Flynt Zane
    /quote]
    Accepted!

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    Skyggeheim
    Envoy
     
    Posts: 281
    Founded: Apr 30, 2018
    Ex-Nation

    Postby Skyggeheim » Sun Sep 08, 2019 11:54 am

    Name: Tarren Nar'Sett, or "Small but Sharp"
    Age: 38
    Gender: Male
    Race: Human-Elf Mixed
    Appearance:
    Image


    Tarren stands about 6'3" and weighs approx. 215 pounds.
    Mage?: No.
    Bio:
    To call Tarren's upbringing an oddity is an understatement. Originally, his mother lived with her family in a tiny village in the hinterlands of Athela, near the border to Hurelan. A human traveler came along one day and stayed in the village for no more than a week, but this was long enough to meet who would become Tarren's mother and conceive him. Tarren's mother, a young woman named Atreneia, was naturally quite shocked when she found out that she was pregnant. This also came as quite a shock to the other members of the village, including one especially surly elder. He reported Atreneia to the authorities for intermingling and eventually the authorities found their way to the village. Shocked and terrified, Atreneia grabbed what meager belongings she had and fled for her life, desperately trying to cross the border into Hurelan before she was ridden down. She barely succeeded, with the help of some Hurelan scouts who happened to be in the area at the time. As she was fleeing through the woods, the Athelan authorities were intercepted by the Hurelan cohort. Fighting broke out, and Atreneia managed to escape in the chaos of the ensuing bloodbath.

    Not to be deterred, and recalling rumors she had always heard about boats from the Kingdom of Treodor that picked up refugees and stranded folk on the southern shores of Antora, she decided that this was her best option to finding a new life for herself and the child that was growing inside of her. And so, she set off to the south, squatting in what villages and taverns would take her in and trying to steal or barter for enough supplies and food to keep herself alive. This strategy worked well enough in Hurelan, among her own people. She received some strange looks for being a drifter, but most Hurelan natives were kind enough to her, considering her obvious pregnancy.

    However, Antora proved to be an entirely new set of difficulties. Beset on all sides by predators and roving bands of those who would seek to make Atreneia their next meal, she found that warm places to sleep and sufficient food was far fewer and further between. Not to mention, she was beginning to enter the later stages of her pregnancy, meaning her progress was greatly slowed as her physical state worsened. She struggled through the northern portions of Antora, just barely managing to make it over the foothills and through the woods. The Gules Desert, however, was too much to bear for the already weak Atreneia. Several days into the sandy wastes, a stress-induced early birth sapped some Atreneia's last remaining energy reserves. Now carrying both her and her child, she collapsed to the ground and felt her life slip away from her. A Ga'el hunting party that had been trailing not far behind approached, looking upon the sad scene. The last words that Atreneia spoke were "Tarren. Khal tarren." in the common tongue this means "Life. Wasted life." However, the lion-kin interpreted Tarren to be the baby's name. The ensuing internal debate among the party amounted to an argument as to whether they should eat the baby or take it in, until eventually the Huntmaster decided they would bring the baby back to their Trar. He decided that if this baby could not keep up with the rest of the pride, it would perish anyways. Why not give it a chance?

    Tarren, as it would turn out, was every bit as tenacious and capable as many of the lion-kin children. As they grew up, Tarren was among them constantly. He competed for food, hunted with the pack, and could be relied on to defend the pride if necessary. What he lacked in comparable strength to the other lion-kin, he made up for in frightening speed and ingenuity. By the time he was an adolescent, Tarren had earned the title "Nar'Sett" as a term of endearment and acceptance. Despite the fact that he was the smallest member of the Trar, he was a full-fledged member on his way to a bountiful life stalking the Wastes. He hunted his first massive beast, eventually stringing his own bow from the bone of the creature, and was an invaluable asset to the Ga'el he hunted with.

    However, this life seemed never seemed to satisfy Tarren. Wanderlust, a lost sense of identity, or simple desire for something greater, call it what you like, but by the time Tarren was 23 he had a nagging desire to set out and forge his own path away from the Trar. He had never felt the connection to the Thalai that the rest of his Trar did, and perhaps it separated him from his pride in bigger ways than he could imagine. His viewpoint was if he could fight like a Ga'el, and hunt like one, perhaps the Thalai would find him. After gathering what knowledge he could about the world outside of the wastes, and against the elders advice, he set out to what he would call "the Great Hunt". He felt as if there was greater prey in the world than what he could hunt in the great expanses of the desert. There must be something out there that would offer him the fight of his life, something he could chase for years until he finally sank the killing blow and took his last trophy for his collection.

    This "Great Hunt" has kept Tarren on the road for 15 years, with no signs of stopping. Despite the fact that he has passed the prime of his youth, he is still just as dangerous as ever. And thus far, no beast has offered him enough challenge for Tarren to end the hunt. Despite losing an eye and being coated in endless scars, he has not found the prey that satisfies his need to hunt. What makes it more difficult is that Tarren struggled to build his own Trar in the outside world. He was treated as an outcast by humans and elves alike, for both being a hybrid and for his strange customs and courtesies that originated from the wastes.

    Now, however, Tarren finds himself in a situation that is both terrifying and exciting. It seems as if a new enemy has emerged to stomp out life in Eboris. The demon menace threatens every race simultaneously, but it also presents a very interesting opportunity: the chance to claim a demon lord's head as a trophy. That being said, Tarren must first find a way out of the castle he stayed in overnight. The only problem? Demons are threatening to completely overrun the establishment.

    Fighting Style (Warrior, Mage, Archer, etc): Rogue and Archer mix.
    Abilities:
    • Stalker's Eye: Tarren has an incredibly keen eye for spotting weaknesses and gaps in his prey's routines, defenses, and abilities. If he can spend enough time observing prey, no matter how powerful that foe may be, he will be able to inflict incredible damage on them with a single well-placed strike.
    • Master Tracker: Tarren can pick up the nigh-unnoticeable signs of movement or presence. Many clue that would go unnoticed to others, he can spot with a brief moment's pause.
    • Heightened Senses: Raised to be a hunter from early childhood, Tarren's senses have been refined and sharpened to match that of the Ga'el who raised him.
    • Savage Fighter: Tarren's upbringing provided him with the training and physical prowess necessary to be a formidable combatant to any opponent.

    Limitations:
    • Despite his tenacity and skill, Tarren is no beastman. He still is subject to many of the same limitations that plague all humans and elves.
    • Zero magical ability.
    • Little in terms of blow-for-blow melee ability. He relies on finishing a fight with a single blow, or waiting until another opportunity presents itself.

    Equipment:
    • Wrist Blade: Shown in appearance. Tarren's wrist blade is usually coated in deadly poison from the stingers of scorpions that roam the Gules Desert. The poison is fast-acting, and will attack an opponent's nervous system, making them hallucinate and eventually seize up their muscles before causing an agonizing death by suffocation, as the muscles in the neck contract to complete closure. Tarren often uses his wrist blade as a last resort, or when he does not plan to consume the meat of the prey he faces.
    • Hamstringer: Tarren's long knife that he has carried ever since he was a child. Hamstringer has a lethally sharp edge, and is almost too large to be considered a knife. However, Tarren wields it with cold efficiency and accuracy.
    • Bolas: Tarren uses these bolas to trip up fleeing prey and immobilize them until he can reach them.
    • Voskal Bone Bow: A recurve bow carved from the bones of a Voksal Sandstalker. The bones are strangely flexible, and the weapon has a very high draw weight.
    • Hunter's Kit: This includes a great many tools that might be useful for a hunter, including poison bottles, traps, and other components needed to stalk, kill, and skin prey.


    Optional Questionnaire
    Personal Quest: Find and kill the most dangerous game in Eboris. Evidently, this is currently a demon lord.
    Favorite Factions: The Foresters
    Least Favorite Factions: The Order of Evrouin, for stopping his hunt on a bloody dragon by killing it before he could get there.
    Favorite Memory: Slaying his first Waste Titan, a massive scorpion that prowls the Wastes.
    Goals: Expand his trophy collection.
    Greatest Fear: He is deathly afraid that despite his superior hunting skills, he will soon find himself being the prey.
    Religion: None.
    Last edited by Skyggeheim on Sun Sep 08, 2019 12:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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    Zarkenis Ultima
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    Founded: Feb 22, 2011
    Democratic Socialists

    Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Sun Sep 08, 2019 1:30 pm

    Skyggeheim wrote:-snip-


    Accepted and added to the archive along with Flynt and Cyradil.
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    The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
    Minister
     
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    Founded: Feb 01, 2017
    Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

    Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Sep 08, 2019 3:03 pm

    Schools of the Consortium
    A study by Janus Sind, Archivist of the Imperial Library

    Part 12: Ientry

    Image


    High among the Dascian Mountains sits dread Ientry. A place of miracles, to be sure, but the name itself seems to drip with the morbid reputation the institution has acquired over the centuries since it's founding, and the estimated millennia since it's construction. Here, some of the greatest minds in cryomantic magic work in a place steeped in ancient and wild instances of their preferred school. However, their magnum opi are seemingly tarnished by the fact that the average student of the academy is often found missing several digits to a limb. What secrets does it hide? What power does it contain?

    Ientry's history is long and complicated to say the least. It is among an elite order within Dacus known as the Ironwood League, a distinction given to their colleges that predate the founding of the Consortium. However, Ientry's placement among those other respected places of learning is an often debated subject among the higher ranks of the Magi. Though the building of Ientry and it's history as a magical bastion certainly predate the Consortium, there is much debate over whether or not a giant magical dungeon can really be counted as a school. Still, a majority of the Magi agree to this day that yes, yes it can be.

    The earliest records of a significant magical presence on Ientry's location date back to proto-elvish records in the days immediately following the Conflict. A scouting report from the since lost Elvish city of Furnost tells us of a tribe of early humans reported gathering atop a nearby glacier led by a man who could make the plain of ice move as he wished. Our next report is the rather famous ballad "Fiorne of Furnost" which describes the lament of Princess Fiorne, watching as her father's army and the highlands of the once prosperous elven kingdom were swallowed by an unrelenting wave of ice. Atop the wave rode a horned being glowing with power. Evidently, the natural magic of the area fueled one of the early powerful mages in the world and gave him the power to wipe away armies.

    Records grow dimmer as the First Great War carries on, but eventually, we gain a report from one Count Hirn, a Dwarvish warlord reporting back to the legendary Shadow King. Hirn describes a place he calls ᛚᛖᚾᚨᚱᚨᚾ. Old Dwarven translations vary, but the two most followed theories either name the location "Dark Ruin" or "Night Glacier". In the report, Hirn cites the location as the home of a powerful human sorceror, served by an army of ice. The castle is listed as a grand affair, built with the stones of Furnost and channeling the Glacier into some form of magical power within its dungeons. Hirn describes being both impressed and horrified by the Warlord, who allegedly kept thousands of elves as slaves within the fortress's depths. After a short stay within the castle, Hirn and his company left for other pastures. As they descended down the mountain, Hirn describes the fortress being eaten by a blizzard the likes of which he had never seen, covering the entire mountaintop in clouds and biting wind.

    Following Hirn's record, very little history of Ientry exists in the Interwar period. However, in the Furnost valley, myths have described for years a place known as Hintergard, a dread castle surrounded by winter storms and avalanches supposedly built by Qhelaos as his personal treasure vault. Many of the Furnosti tribe ventured up into the mountains. Few returned, and none found success. Enchanted storms and creatures made of ice, enchanted years ago by the warlord of Ientry and left to eternally patrol his grounds high above the mountain tops. It is said in these times that many a prospective cryomancer would venture up the mountains in this time period, to meditate and learn from the rogue magics that held control up there. The number of these hermits who returned from the frozen peaks could be counted on a man's hands, but each of them became renowned as some of the greatest mages of the era. In particular, Faen of Ashar appears to have gained his notable magical strength after one of these journeys, and used that strength to great effect during the subsequent demon wars.

    Following the Demon Wars, Furnost was one of the first locales subsumed into the then local power of the Dascian Dukedom. Faen, an early supporter of a global mage's guild and a founding member of a group that would one day combine with several others mage guilds and colleges to become the Consortium, was looking to found a school of his own, founded on the principle of "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." To this end, he returned to the origin point of his strength, and cleared Hintergard of it's enchantments and repurposed it's frozen army to defend his new school and its Grand Mage. Thus, Ientry was founded, filled with the toughest magical recruits from around the world and teaching them by breaking them down spiritually, mentally, and sometimes physically.

    Since then the school has retained the tradition of hard knocks, and has one of the highest mortality rates of any of the Magi colleges. In the event of total war with Dascus, Ientry will inevitably provide one of the hardest targets for the Empire to capture, being traditionally among the most loyal of the colleges to the Consortium and Dascus, as well as it's most defensible. If the Empire should ever capture the frozen keep, it is in this author's honest opinion that the fortress should be dismantled with haste and forgotten to time.

    Classified Info: His Imperial Majesty's Black Hands' Report


    Within more recent times, Ientry has fallen into the hands of one Jacob Lilling. While sudden transfers of power to previously unknown figures in the Consortium is nothing new, Lilling himself is not unknown. By all of our reports, the man has only "existed" for at most 40 years, despite his apparent age and reported age being far, far older. After heavy research and much probing, the Black Hand was able to uncover that Lilling in fact is the new identity of one Herold Pzozki, a lost scion of Liskov.

    Pzozki's name is a surprising one to find, when by all accounts the man was a minor freedom fighter/ bandit who lived closer to a century ago and came into frequent conflict with the Empire. By all contemporary accounts by both the Black Hand and Pzozki's own men, the bandit leader perished during the Ferenary Incident, when the clan attempted a daring raid on the city of Sawraz during the dwarven holiday of Ferenary. Those familiar with the incident will remember that it resulted in no less than thousands of lives as magically fueled fire consumed much of the ancient tunnel network beneath the city. That number was previously thought to include Pzozki, however as our intelligence now indicates, that was wrong.

    We know next to nothing of what happened to Pzozki in between Swaraz and his reappearance at Ientry, however there are a few facts that our agents have been able to uncover. At some point, Pzozki both learned formal magic, particularly Cryomancy and Umbramancy, and was also recruited to the Slayers of the Crypt. We also know that he made brief appearances during this time period in both Treodor and Dascus under the alias Furl, a waylaid sailor attempting to return for one reason or another, Liskov. Then, near 40ish years ago, Pzozki reemerged at Ientry as new professor Jacob Lilling. We also track the migration of a large numbers of Slayers to the Furnost region at this point, indicating that Pzozki may have converted Ientry at least partially into a Slayer school. His motives in this are currently unknown but if he still harbors old grudges, it may very well be that Pzozki intends to train Magi in the Slayer arts to fight for Dascus. More insight into the matter is required.

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    The Twelve Isles
    Minister
     
    Posts: 2307
    Founded: May 15, 2016
    Ex-Nation

    Postby The Twelve Isles » Tue Sep 10, 2019 4:41 am

    The Rotha Nomads

    Image


    The Rotha are a wandering people, who live their lives in nomadic caravans that earn money through trading, information and often times as troupes of entertainers and actors. The origin of their people is largely up to debate, but most agree that considering their tan skin, red hair and cultural association with foxes that they must have originated in the temperate forests to the east of the continent. Within Rotha culture however, there are many stories of how they became a people, with most of them detailing how they were once slaves of an ancient empire, and were granted their freedom by the legendary hero Fio-Tir. It is said that Fio-Tir was the concubine in the ancient Emperor, and became close to jim. During this time, the Empire was in decline, and was beset by demons known as the Darkness. By using her influence with the Emperor, Fio-Tir asked for a wager. If she could dispel the Darkness, the Emperor would have to free the Five Tribes Of Rotha. But if she failed, all of her descendants would be forever the consorts of the Emperor, and the Rotha would remain slaves. It is said that Fio-Tir set out into the world, and that she studied and learned the ways of magic to help dispel the Darkness. She was supposedly gone for 15 years, and during this time it was believed that she had died, and her children were enslaved, and her people were still not free. However, she was not in fact dead, and had found where the world between the Mortal Realm and other dimensions was weak, and she sealed it with the sacrificing of 75 foxes, hence the significance of foxes in Rotha culture. With the rifts sealed, she had to destroy what demons and spirits were left that continued to darken the world, and she created magical lamps to do so, walking the earth and lighting the places where the darkness had seeped in, until one day she returned to the Emperor's palace. The Emperor tried to deny her having freed the Rotha and dispelled the darkness, and in vengeance Fio-Tir destroyed the Emperor's palace with fire, thus nailing the Empires coffin closed and freeing her people.

    No one knows if this legend is true or not, but most Rotha choose to say that it is, though it is more so out of cultural identity than out of actual belief. What is agreed upon however, is that once the Rotha were freed, they dispersed across the world, and never settled down again. After spending their entire existence in slavery, the Rotha were determined to never be held down again, and reveled in the freedom and ability to explore and go where they chose. This is how they became the nomadic people we know today, and where many say their often friendly, curious and mischievous cultural identities come from. It all hails from ancient Rotha, excited for their freedom.

    There are certain aspects of the Rotha that are considered culturally significant, such as travel and the plays they put on to earn money. However, ask any Rotha and they will tell you that the two most important things in their culture are their caravan, and their wagon. A caravan to a Rotha is similar to a clan to other cultural groups. Often they are very large, with upwards of two hundred people in them, and they stay together for their whole lives, though some may leave to explore the world. Each caravan has a name, with the five most well respected being the Mio-Fen, the Lorael, the Mistos, The Carn-Laer, and the Leand. It is said that these, the Five Great Caravans, were founded by the children of Fio-Tir, and as such are the most well respected. Most Rotha believe that though conflict with another caravan can be forgiven, to betray or hurt ones own caravan is the greatest crime, and will lead to expulsion and being considered no longer Rotha, or to be killed in the Flaying, in which the accused is tied to a tree and slowly flayed for days and days, with it only stopping when they finally die.

    The second most important thing for a Rotha is their wagon. Each wagon is like a small home, and can generally fit about three people comfortably, or five if you push it. As a result, an average family will likely have two or three wagons, one for the parents, the other for the children, and a possible third for the supplies of the family. The wagons run in a Rotha's family, and will be handed down for generations. It is not uncommon for a Rotha family to be able to trace their wagons back for upwards of ten generations. Traditionally, the parents wagon comes from the husbands side of the family, and the children's coming from the wife's. The supply wagon, if they own one, can be built by them or taken from either side of the family, and will one day become the wagon of the eldest child. Often, the wagons are beautifully carved and painted, covered in magnificent blues and oranges and greens, and carved with legends from ones family. To disrespect ones wagon is to disrespect them, and is a good way to land yourself in a fist fight very fast. Also, it should be noted, that though orange, green and blue are significant colors to Rotha as a whole, each caravan generally distinguishes itself with its own colors. For instance, the caravan that Siona Willun grew up in's colors were purple and blue.

    A third important aspect of the Rotha, is their skill with swords. Life on the road is dangerous, and fraught with uncertainty. So though the Rotha prefer to be peaceful, they have learned to protect themselves and are capable of doing so with their sabers. Though a sword is not as important as the wagon, almost all families have an ancestral saber. Typically, it is passed down from father to eldest child, regardless of gender, just like the third wagon. Rotha swords come in all shapes and sizes, and are treated as a last resort, but one which they are willing to employ without question if it means protecting their wagons, and protecting their caravan.

    Lastly, the Rotha are famed for their story telling abilities. They are raised with grand stories and epics, about the rises and falls of empires and kingdoms throughout history, grand warriors and hero's, and the incredible feats of mages and monsters. One of the most common business's Rothat are involved in is theater, and most caravans act almost as a large travelling actors troupe. They collect stories from wherever it is that they go, and turn them into plays to put on in the next town over. For this reason, most like to think of Rotha as travelling historians, who will either know or know someone who knows the history of any region they are in. Ask a Rotha for a story, and they will ask you to choose what kind you want. Ask for them to tell you history, and they will ask you to tell them what era you want. In short, if you want a story, and a good one to boot, its a Rosha you should ask.
    Proud member of the Federation Of Isles.

    The Lamplighter will return in times of Blight.
    When you are lost in darkness, search for the light.

    "The crown and whales will always provide."

    Emperor Tyrus Willun The Conqueror.

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    The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
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    Founded: Feb 01, 2017
    Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

    Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Tue Sep 10, 2019 12:18 pm

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    By Darryl Mapreader


    Antora is sometimes referred to among men as "The Veil." The word play is on purpose, as The Vale is the technical translation for Antora's name in High or Lupine Thalari, but also because the realm seems eternally shrouded in mystery. For every Tembast, there are a dozen more monstrous species twisted and changed by the thalai running unchecked through the wilderness. The famous Dascian general Kitan Meredus once famously said "Even if there was a valid reason for our nation to take on one so militarized and populous as the damn beastland, we would gain nothing. Their resources are unusable, their people untamable, and the land itself would fight our presence with creatures so alien to human minds that their place in our bestiaries is a rambling page with notes about the various horrible ways it can kill you. Antora is where the gods never quite finished creation, so nature itself took over. We have our land, and they have theirs, and I think everyone is happy to keep it that way."

    Nowhere is this more true than the great swamp. Bounded by the ocean, the Gules, and the northern mountains, the Swamp is a ruthless and alien place where the thalai was allowed to flow uncontrolled into the world. The creatures who call it's various canals and canopies home are unlike almost anything else on the planet. It should tell one all they need to know about the swamp when the most "normal" creature is a giant six legged crocodile with venomous spines similar to a porcupine. In this vast and lush land, the rules of nature no longer apply. A small creature could be the top predator, and a large creature could be more harmless than a puppy. It truly is the forgotten land.

    Antora is nothing if not defined by the race or rather collection of races who rule it. The Thalari flock to areas where they are naturally adapted, and the swamp is no exception. What is the exception is that unlike the other areas of Antora, the swamp follows a strict hierarchy of tribes, one that is not easily broken or ignored. At the very bottom lie the Dar'el, the Frogmen. Thalari legend holds that the frogmen were once a proud and noble warrior tribe who struck under the cover darkness and killed like a shadow. However, their long subjugation under the other swamp tribes has led to them becoming dumb, docile, and most of the time fat. For whatever reason, the Frogs carry enormous stature even for Thalari, and thus they are used most of the time as beasts of burden. The frogmen apparently have no complaints about their place in society, as there has never been a recorded rebellion among them.

    Next up the hierarchy are the Sk'el, the crocodiles and alligators of the swamp. The Sk'el are the labor backbone and foot soldier of the swamp tribes. A proud people, it was recently found out that a Thalari term roughly translating to "Hungry Water" that was thought to refer to a weather effect in the swamp in fact referred to the nearly biannual rebellion among the Sk'el. Traditional Sk'el territory within the swamp is considered uncrossable by anything short of another swamp army and slave hunting for crocs is considered to be among the most dangerous rights of passage in the swamp.

    To list the countless other tribes within the swamp would require a book into and of itself, so for the sake of brevity in this report I shall skip straight to the top. The Gal'el, or Turtle tribe stand supreme among the swamp dwellers. Gal are nothing like their mundane counter parts, instead being born of a more rare variety of snapping turtle within the Swamp. This means that rather than being slow and somewhat docile, they are in fact agile, strong, and viciously aggressive. This drive has pushed them from being a small player in the internal swamp conflicts during the days of Antorus, to one of the three great tribes of Antora. The Gal are ruled by a theocratic council of Shamans, who have near total control over all aspects of the swamp. This is primarily due to the Shamans', and by the extension the entire Gals', greatest weapon. The Tarasque.

    Of all the unholy mutants and abominations of Antora, the Tarasque holds a special place in the fears of civilization. With the head of a lion, body of a monstrous spined turtle, its six bear legs, and a long scorpions tail, the Tarasque is a special chimera of destruction. Reaching sizes up to 20 ft. tall at the shoulder, and with the ability to spit liquid fire with venemous fumes, this semi-aquatic beast provides a living siege engine for the Shamans of the Gal, enabling them to have an empire worth of force projection despite they're smaller size as a tribe. A Tarasque only bows to the command of a Shaman, and it is whispered that the greatest among the Shamans can even shift their form into that of an even more monstrous Tarasque. Gods only know what other abominations lurk within the swamps...

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    Finland SSR
    Post Marshal
     
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    Founded: May 17, 2014
    Psychotic Dictatorship

    Postby Finland SSR » Sun Sep 15, 2019 6:29 am

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    'Life is never futile.'

    The Order of the Fading Butterfly

    Three hundred years ago, in the southern lands which currently holds Tashar, a mage going by the name of Magnus lived. A devout follower of the faith of Magika, he denied the existence of the Goddess reigning above and instead professed magic as a concept worthy of worship itself, unaware that it is but a gift passed down to him by Sancta Datune, which he squandered in his life with futile science, research and carousing. His path to penance came to him one day, when, passing through a garden and lost in his thoughts, he suddenly had the sign of a butterfly manifest upon his hand. This sign would slowly start to fade, and Magnus understood that this was a message passed down to him by the Goddess - that he has been blind to the true nature of the Universe, but Datune's eternal benevolence has granted him, much like everyone else in the Universe, a chance to repent. And repent he did. For the rest of his mortal life, Magnus travelled across Eboris, professing to everyone who would listen to him that there is always a chance to repent and to accept the goddess Datune and her order of the Universe - but his mortality eventually caught up to him. The butterfly mark on his hand eventually faded, his time appeared to be due. That was not the end of his story, however - as, on what seemed to be the last day of his life, Magnus's followers, with their minds guided by Datune's will, enacted a complex ritual which rescued him from the clutches of death and turned him into an undead. From then on out, Magnus and his followers understood that the only way to unlock the true path of the Universe is to immerse oneself in the magic of the dead...

    This text reads as one of the opening chapters in the history of the Order of the Fading Butterfly, catalogued over centuries and held safe by the members of the order. To say that necromancy is a controversial field of magic would be an understatement - especially when one considers that Eboris has an organization dedicated to the cold-blooded extermination of their kind. And, even among necromancers, the Order of the Fading Butterfly stands out as controversial - for they are not only an insult to the creed of Chthones and purpose, but also heretics, who deny the truth of all of the religions in the continent in search for their own path to salvation.

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    What draws young souls to become inducted to the Order of the Fading Butterfly? What do they believe?

    In their core, the defining principle of the Order is that they cannot, or will not, come to terms with the futility of life. Believing in their ultimate demise, some people declare memento mori and spend their life in piety and contemplation, others announce carpe diem and relish in the moment, believing that it is all they have to cling onto. Members of the Order, on the other hand, deny the inevitability of this demise, or that this demise ultimately makes the concept of life futile. Life is a virtue, it is something which is worthy of being protected in its own nature, and a virtue cannot be temporary. There is always a second chance, a chance to live another day, to continue acting upon one's goals and live the life which one carves out for himself, without fear of this life being taken away because of something you cannot control. The goal of the Order is thus to find a way to defeat this cycle, and the defeat to this cycle can be achieved through Datune's gift - necromancy.

    While most necromancers are either nonreligious or subscribe to the creed of Chthones, the god of the underworld, the Fading Butterfly are unique in that they seek the support of Datune, the goddess of penance. In fact, Datune is the only deity which the Order recognizes. According to their scrolls, all the other gods supposedly composing the Pantheon are merely legendary mortals, granted supernatural powers by Datune's benevolent boons and thus revered as gods after their death. Datune, on the other hand, is the omnipotent deity which shaped the world in her making, but created it with pain, suffering, and most importantly death as a means to instill the true value of life in her creations. To be born without a fading butterfly of your own means that you will never understand just how much value it holds and how important it is to protect it. That is not to imply that Datune is somehow malevolent, dooming her children to a world with death and suffering with the only reason so they would understand why avoiding it is important. If she were malevolent, she would not grant her children boons - however, those boons should not be wasted and must be used for a purpose. The Order promotes diligence, labor and ambition. To rest on one's laurels, especially if you display magical abilities, is a betrayal of the chance which Datune has given you to shape the world, it is to silently recognize that life is ultimately futile.

    Is the Order of the Fading Butterfly a villainous organization? In its core, it is not by any means, and bodes no ill will towards the society which it inhabits, even if it sees the rest of Eboris as misguided heretics and their way of life as incompatible with the purpose of the Order. However, it is no secret that throughout the years, the Order has grown powerful necromancers who would move on to become a threat to the continent. Necromancy is a powerful art of magic, turning a man with enough talent into a force stronger than an army, and instilled with the belief that their powers are granted to them for a purpose, some would step out of the shadows in order to conquer all that is in their sight. Members of the Order receive no mercy from Slayers of the Crypt, unlike their peers in the Necromancy college of the Magi Consortium.

    Unlike many other religious beliefs stemming from the Pantheon, the Order has a codified religious canon, in the form of hundreds of manuscripts written over the years, describing the revelations of Magnus and his successors, the order of the world as foretold by Datune, and finally a book of prophecies set to take place in the following centuries. This is far from all of the knowledge which is kept and stored by the Order, however.

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    The Order is composed of five colleges, each one in a different nation of Eboris - it would be a mistake to imagine them as actual colleges, however, with a headquarters, a staff and facilities for study. The necromantic nature of the Order means that operating so openly would be ridiculous. Rather, the Fading Butterfly Colleges are a loose term describing the community of the Order in a specific region, with their own hierarchy. All members of the Order are divided into circles of five, composed of one or two veteran members and the rest being less experienced - these circles are generally tightly knit, made up of members who were familiar with each other through various means before joining, be it blood relations or friendship. The circles, receiving material and semi-constant communications from their College, individually study the art of necromancy and report any new findings to their College. They also organize their own recruitment and expand if needed. These Order circles are generally integrated to society, and it is far from unheard of to have Order members among the Enchanters or the Magi Consortium - should the matter arise, however, an Order circle collectively defends against threats, such as the Slayers of the Crypt. For the safety of everyone involved, the extent of the Order and its hierarchy is kept shrouded in mystery to any newly recruited members, in order to avoid such critical information from falling to the hands of their enemies.

    The veteran members in each circle also represent each circle in semi-regularly congresses of their respective College. These congresses are hosted as far away from civilization as possible - ruins, the underground, and mountainous areas are preferred, and the location changes with every time the congress is held. There, members of the Order share their discoveries in the art of necromancy, lay down their information on the events taking place in their region, and discuss changes to the religious canon, such as the legitimacy of new visions, prophecies and research into the nature of Datune and the Universe. These congresses are also attended by the leadership of their respective college, composed of liches - members of the Order who have, for some time, defeated death and continue to live as undead wizards. Magnus, the leader of the College of Tashar, is also universally recognized as the leader of the Order in its entirety - he continues to prove his miracle by living and giving sage advice to his followers when any other lich would have long decayed. In recent years, however, it has started to appear that Magnus's last threads of life are starting to fade...

    On the most rare occasions, a congress of the entire Order is held, composed of the congresses of all five Colleges. There is only one place where such a Congress may be held - the island of Datune, one of the many thousands of islands which may be found in the southern and southwestern seas. Far from the reach of the Kingdom of Treodor and completely uninhabited, it is where the necromancers of Eboris gather for the most fundamental changes to the Order or its beliefs, such as unexpected and universally recognized visions, or a major reorganization of the Order because of unexpected events.
    I have a severe case of addiction to writing. At least 3k words every day is my fix.

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    Aldham
    Political Columnist
     
    Posts: 4
    Founded: Jul 16, 2019
    Ex-Nation

    Postby Aldham » Mon Sep 16, 2019 5:36 am

    App incoming sometime today.

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    Aldham
    Political Columnist
     
    Posts: 4
    Founded: Jul 16, 2019
    Ex-Nation

    Postby Aldham » Mon Sep 16, 2019 11:43 am

    Name: Kassandra Sardet
    Age: 15
    Gender: Female
    Race: Human
    Appearance (pics if possible):
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    Mage?: Barley
    Bio : Kassandra is the second child of Arthur and Sara Sardet, a noble family that has a well off transport business in the capital city of Halsha. As a young girl Kassandra loved to run around her family's house and the town itself. She was often playing with her brother who liked to play with sticks. She quickly learned how not to get hit with the stick. When she wasn’t doing this, she was inside with her tutors where she studied. Her siblings is Glen Sardet (20, Brother, Deceased), Marcus Sardet (13, Brother), Amelia Sardet (10, Sister), and Liam Sardet (5, brother). She spent several hours with retainers as well where she was taught how to use a dagger and a sword at the same time.

    She would often ask about the world when she was being taught about other cultures. She was fascinated by them for one reason or another. Her tutors started to notice how quickly she was grasping the knowledge they were teaching her. So they started to give her harder material. At the age of 11 her brother was trying to swim across a river and got pulled further down the stream and eventually drowned. This destroyed her as she had always looked up to him. Now she is the oldest child as she looks after her siblings when she can.

    She started to help her father with the family business learning how it works so she can hopefully one day take over the business. She is often seen with her siblings if she is out and about, that is not always the case. She has a good memory due to working with her father and looking over his shoulder when he was reading documents, requests and orders. She thinks this has made her an valuable person due to her skills of reading, writing, and mathematics. At the age of 13, she would sneak out of the family's home at night and go explore the city. She made a few friends who were commoners as she did this, she enjoyed how simple their lives seemed compared to hers.

    She would do this several times a week, though this would not last. Eventually one of the guards caught her as she slipped back into the house. This caused a rather heated argument where she was confined to the house and she was told that she should have known better. Her father burnt the simple clothing that she had on when she was caught and put guards on her at all times. She was like this for the next several months. She would hear the tapping of rocks being tossed up at her window, she would walk over and see her friends on the other side of the wall. They would talk for a few moments before the guards chased them away.

    Over the next several years, she took her martial training a bit more seriously and her studies as well. Though she also knew that her father could choose her to take over after him or marry her off to some other noble family. Though she had hopped that with how well she was doing that it would be the first choice and not the latter. With the tensions heating up around the world, the family business has becoming more challenging to run. So her father often started to send her to other cities and nations to establish trade contracts with them. Recently she picked up a bit of magic though she soon learned that she was a horrible mage, she could only use a single healing spell which was very basic at that.

    Fighting Style: Dual Wielding Rogue
    Abilities:
    • Quick Thinker: Kassandra has had a very good education and is quick on her feet. She is able to process and make a decision quicker than others.
    • Minor Mage: Kassandra has very limited magic abilities she is only able to use a very basic healing spell.
    • Duel Wielder: Kassandra was taught by several retainers how to use two blades at the same time. She prefers a sword and a dagger, which gives her more ability to parry attacks.
    • Charismatic: Kassandra growing up in a noble family who has a successful trading business learned early on that words hold weight. She has a way with words and knows what to say to inspire or to make a deal.

    Limitations:
    • Small Frame: Kassandra is fairly average by means of women her age. But, she lacks in strength meaning she relies more on technique and skill rather than Brite strength.
    • Kind Hearted: She has a very kind heart, some say too kind. She can't bring it upon herself to hurt someone. But, that doesn't mean she won't defend herself or her friends.
    • Inexperience: Due to her age, she still has a lot to learn. Knowing something by the book is very different from trying the real thing.

    Equipment:
    • Fine Steel Dagger
    • Fine Steel Sword
    • World map
    • Formal clothing
    • Travel clothing
    • Family locket-Bears the sigil of House Sardet engraved on the top and inside cover. The sigil is a tree with several branches sprouting towards the sky.
    • 100x coins


    Optional Questionnaire
    Personal Quest: Expand the family business and make a name for herself
    Favorite Factions: The Order of Evrouin
    Least Favorite Factions: The Honor Guild
    Favorite Memory: Her first business trip with her father when she was a young girl.
    Goals: make a name for herself.
    Greatest Fear: her biggest fear is heights which can cause her to freeze up.
    Religion: The Pantheon
    Last edited by Aldham on Mon Sep 16, 2019 11:44 am, edited 1 time in total.

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