NATION

PASSWORD

Somewhere in the Dark (Fantasy) [OOC, Open]

For all of your non-NationStates related roleplaying needs!
User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Somewhere in the Dark (Fantasy) [OOC, Open]

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Mon Feb 14, 2022 8:28 pm

Image
A Catnip Plantation Production

Image

Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong.
No matter how fast light travels,
it finds the darkness has always got there first,
and is waiting for it.

The history of Anur is shrouded in darkness. There may be those who will dispute this. They will tell you that the world of Anur is a world blessed by light, and that the sunlit lands of Irre are all that there is, aside from the damned regions beneath the earth. Make no mistake, they are fools, deluded by their faith and made complacent by their false order. But long before there was light in the sky, far away from the reach of mortals, the land above was dark and barren, and there was only the world within the bowels of the earth. It was there that life began, somewhere in the dark, born from the mud and shade, the earthen blood and the depths of the undersea. Stem and spore, sinew and scale, we all lived in tranquil stasis amidst the glowing rivers of earthen blood and the endless caverns of the underworld. Death treaded lightly and time itself slumbered during that forgotten age.

Then it came, from far above the world. The ceiling of the world itself cracked open, leaving the underworld exposed to the sky for the first time, and from it descended a great sphere of swirling flame. The Everburning Skyfire made itself known to us, and though many shied away from the forbidden flame and fled deeper into the bowels of the earth, others sought to explore the new world that had been opened to them, claim it, conquer it. The forerunners of the Six Tribes left their origins forgotten somewhere in the dark and spread across the lands above, the surface of the world, which would in time come to be known as Irre, the Blessed Realm. However, not content with the new territories they colonized, these peoples sought to subject all of the Blessed Realm to their will, along with all of their competitors. A bloody millenium followed. Menai, Alfari, Dvarda, Fereni and Vantyrae, the beings that had come from below, waged vicious wars against each other, each seeking complete dominion over the Everburning Skyfire, for they believed truly that whoever controlled the Skyfire would earn the divine right to reclaim all of Irre.

This violent stasis, however, would not last. It could not last. A thousand and one harvests after the beginning of the Great Strife that followed the Descent, the Nine Kingdoms stood dominant over the land, locked in a stalemate that had lasted centuries. The solution would soon present itself, however. Many claim to this ley that it was revealed to the Lords of the Nine Kingdoms by the whispers of the Skyfire itself. A ceremony was performed, and the Everburning Skyfire was thus sundered. From it were created the Nine Flames of Anung, one for each of the Nine Kingdoms, legitimizing their right to rule their own territories on the Blessed Realm. They were joined by the sixth tribe, the Enkala. The endless bloodshed then ceased, for the Nine Lords were now truly, and by divine right, equal in standing and in right. Following this event, the hollow that connected the surface to the underground sealed itself with a rumble, as if rejecting that new order, and so our ancient home was left buried somewhere in the dark.

Not all members of the Six Tribes swore fealty to the Nine Kingdoms, however. Many a time, independent nations attempted to rise up and establish a territory of their own, but the tyrannous Lords, justified by their dominion over the Nine Flames of Anung, invariably cannibalized these upstart kingdoms, establishing their own rule with an iron fist and incredible violence. Of course, the Lords were not immortal, and the Nine Kingdoms were not invincible. In the following centuries, some of them would fall and others would rise, the Flames of Anung changing hands with the passing of the harvests, though their number was, and ever would be, nine. In time, the power of the Flames of Anung summoned another Skyfire, a true Skyfire, shining bright above Anur and casting its rays upon the land, blessing the realm with holy light. So they said. Despite all of these gifts, however, there were many who were not content with the rule of the Nine Flames of Anung and their holders. They did not believe an ancient relic should grant dominion over the land, and so, they sought their freedom somewhere in the dark. Led by the Vantyrae, these members of the Six Tribes went on a Great Exodus across the Ebony Sea on the largest fleet that Anur had ever seen.

Seven long harvests would pass as the brave sailors waited, their vessels gliding over the Ebony Sea. Beset by famine, disease and great and terrible monsters come from the depths of the blackened ocean, many did not survive. Out of over three hundred ships, only twenty would make it. To where, you ask? The Faram Anur, or the Far Land in the ancient tongue of the Six Tribes, known by many names. The Coldlight Archipelago, the Abyssal Chain, the Promised Isles. A place far away from the grasp of the Nine Flames of Anung and the Skyfire that they summoned. A land with no blazing light in the skies, a land shrouded in darkness, where mysteries lay hidden and strange creatures dwelt. Where kingdoms would rise and fall with the ebb and flow of the tide. Millennia have passed since then. Completely cut off from the Blessed Realm of Irre, the inhabitants of the Coldlight Archipelago have largely forgotten their origins once again. Now their descendants find themselves in a dark land filled with untapped potential for adventure. Secrets can be found all around you, traveler, and as always, the truth lies somewhere in the dark.

What is this, then, that you have stumbled across? Is it an epic swashbuckling adventure for you to embark upon? Is it yet another bog standard medieval fantasy roleplay? Is it, perhaps, the next big thing? For the first two questions, well, yes and no - and I certainly hope so for the third! Welcome to Somewhere In The Dark, a new fantasy project created by yours truly. Rather than an ordinary story-driven roleplay with a predetermined path, or an open-ended sandbox game, however, I decided to try for something different. The idea behind this project is to have the world of Anur serve as a backdrop on which anyone can run their own adventure, with their own rules and lineup, as long as they are able to catch the interest of other players. Essentially, rather than a place for discussion about a singular story, this thread is to serve as a hub where interested parties can discuss adventure and character ideas, make interest checks and work out details together. With this in mind, I have left much of the lore, geography and details of the Coldlight Archipelago open-ended so that players can contribute to the worldbuilding in a way that better suits their stories. However, in the interest of creating a proper framework for this, I've fleshed out some more of the world and its mythology and core concepts. If you are interested, then please, continue reading and I'll see you at the end of the journey!


The Great Races of Anur

The Six Tribes
The six races that inhabit the Blessed Realm of Irre and the Nine Kingdoms therein are collectively known as the Six Tribes. They are the dominant races of Irre, and have been so for millenia. With the exception of the Enkala, they can trace their origins back to the forgotten underworld beneath the surface of Anur. In addition to their dominion of the Blessed Realm, they have also come to inhabit the Faram Anur after arriving there at the conclusion of the Great Exodus and settling down on the newly discovered lands.
Image
Menai
The Dauntless

The Tribe of Menai constitutes the most populous race on Irre, and a close second on the isles of the Coldlight Archipelago. The jacks of all trades, they are athletic and strong, and while they are not the most powerful or advanced race, they are known for being resourceful and determined. A Menash male stands at about 6 feet on average, while a Menash female is usually about 5 feet 6 inches tall. Their skin color varies, but tends towards darker tones, as does their hair, while their eye color tends towards lighter tones. They don't have any significant distinguishing features compared to the other races, though some might say this in itself helps to tell them apart. Menai normally last 50 to 70 harvests.
Image
Alfari
The Graceful

The Tribe of Alfari consists of the self-appointed keepers of nature, wise and meticulous in their endeavors, as well as extremely nimble and agile. Surprisingly, their civilization is fairly advanced in terms of technology, albeit not to the level of the Dvarda, and tends more towards harmony with the natural environment instead of exploiting it. A male Alfar's height averages to about 6 feet and 2 inches, while an Alfar woman tends to stand at 5 feet 8 inches. Their skin varies between pale tones of pink and tan, and their eyes are always clear and bright. Their pointy ears, slender shapes and pale hair serve to set them apart from the other tribes. They live about 100 to 120 harvests.
Image
Dvarda
The Impassible

The Tribe of Dvarda is known for their hardy men and women, who are very stubborn and resilient. In a curious paradox, the Dvarda are the most technologically advanced race on the face of Anur, with the most talented engineers and metalworkers of the land at their sole disposal, yet their society is also the most traditionalist one, rigid and stern, allowing for little mobility. A Dvar man will generally measure up to 5 feet even in height, while a female Dvar will instead be about 4 feet and 6 inches. Their colors all have a tendency towards oranges, browns and reds, though their eyes may have brighter shades instead. They are set apart by their short and stocky figures, as well as their thick hair. A Dvar's lifespan is roughly 40 to 60 harvests.
Image
Fereni
The Whimsical

The Tribe of Fereni is known for the cunning and the surprising insight of its members. Fereni are free-spirited and playful creatures, and not physically imposing in the slightest. Though they are the least advanced civilization of Irre, Fereni don't seem to care, preferring to live in the open wilds. An average Feren has a height of about 4 feet 6 inches, whether male or female. Their skin color ranges from a pale beige to a dull dark brown, their hair can be one of many unusual colors, and their eyes have a glow of their own. These eyes, as well as their pointed ears the vestigial insectoid wings on their backs, serve to identify them. Unlike the Alfari, their ears point outwards, not upwards. Their wings sometimes afford them the gift of flight, though this is rare. Fereni are quite long-lived, lasting 180 to 200 harvests.
Image
Vantyrae
The Hollow

The Tribe of Vantyrae is the only one to have completely departed from Irre during the Great Exodus. Despite being very scarce, the Vantyrae are widely seen as dangerous, on account of their strength and speed, as well as their dark hunger, for they require flesh and blood of living creatures to survive. Despite this savagery, Vantyrae society is quite formal and aristocratic. A Vantyr is about as tall as a Menash on average. Their flesh is very pale, and their hair will be an almost white golden or an intense shade of red, brown or black. Their bright red eyes give them away when they try to hide among the other tribes. Some of them also possess bat-like wings, along with the gift of flight. A Vantyr can technically live indefinitely, though murder or starvation inevitably cuts their life short.
Image
Enkala
The Luminous

The Tribe of Enkala is the very youngest of the Six Tribes, and the only one not to have originally emerged from the underworld, instead arriving to the Blessed Realm alongside the Nine Flames of Anung. They are quite rare, both in Irre and in the Faram Anur, tending to join the societies of the other races rather than form their own, and their natural beauty and charisma helps with that. An Enkal, whether male or female, will generally stand at about 6 feet and 4 inches tall. Their flesh is chalk white, while their hair and eyes tend towards darker colors. Enkala possess silvery crystal halos that crown their heads, which glow softly with ethereal light. This, along with the large feathery wings on their back, which endow them with the gift of flight, makes them unmistakable among the Six Tribes. Enkala are among the most longeval races on Anur, living up to 500 harvests.


The Far Ones
The Six Tribes arrived at the Promised Isles after the Great Exodus, but they were not the only ones to inhabit them, nor the first. Four other races had settled the archipelago long ago, and though their meeting was largely peaceful, tensions between the two groups reach high at times. These four races that were the sole sovereigns of the Faram Anur before the Great Exodus are known as the Far Ones.
Image
Madren
The Enduring

Upon arriving at the Abyssal Chain, the Menai were surprised to find a people not unlike their own, but culturally different and much better adapted to the lightless lands, resisting the cold and able to better see in the dark. The Madren are no less advanced than their counterparts from Irre, but their society revolves around warfare significantly more, owing to their conflicts with the Vilden. A Madir man or woman is about as tall as a Menash, but in contrast with them, their skin color is a pale pink or tan, while their eyes tend more towards darker shades. Much like the Menai as well, the Madren have no particular distinguishing features like the other races of Anur do. In general, they live about 60 to 80 harvests.
Image
Vilden
The Indomitable

The usual rivals of the Madren for the dominance of the Faram Anur, the Vilden are not a race, per se, but rather a collection of creatures evolved from various species of beasts originally hailing from the underworld that have developed a tight knit, diverse and complex culture around their shared wild heritage and their revelry in combat, among other things. As such, their height varies wildly, as does the color of their skin, fur and eyes, along with their usual lifespan, leaving little to be said about them as a whole. Despite the lack of unifying characteristics, usually when you come across a Vilde, you will be able to tell simply by looking at the various animalistic traits they present, including fur, antlers, trunks, claws and cloven hooves.
Image
Sylven
The Nourishing

The guardians and preservers of the natural world in the Coldlight Archipelago, the Sylven are a race of plant-like men and women with a penchant for dwelling in groves and creating beautiful gardens. Peaceful in demeanor, they are nonetheless fierce when defending their lands. A Sylf, male or female, goes up to 6 feet and 6 inches in height, making them the tallest of the great races of Anur. The texture of their bodies varies between skin, pulp, bark and leaf, with foliage creating the illusion of hair on their heads. The colors of their appearance are most often split between greens, blues and oranges, with the occasional purples or browns in between. Much like the Fereni, the Sylven typically last 180 to 200 harvests.
Image
Shayit
The Mischievous

Self-absorbed and chaotic, the Shayit are the tricksters of the Promised Isles, content to wreak havoc, lead travelers astray or simply play innocuous tricks. Because of this, they have little interest in forming their own societies, though there are a few Shayit enclaves here and there in the mountains of the Faram Anur. A male Shay will stand at 5 feet and 10 inches on average, with 6 feet and 4 inches being the norm for female Shayit. Their skin color varies wildly, generally some dark shade of red, blue or green, with purple, pink or black being seen occasionally. Their hair color can be quite unusual as well, and their eyes have a glow of their own. The chaotic nature of the Shayit causes their lifespan to vary quite wildly, ranging from 50 harvests to a staggering 300.


The Blessed Realm of Irre

Image
The history of the Blessed Realm is divided into three - four if you're so inclined - eras, beginning with the Sign of Rising, which lasted from the Descending to the beginning of the Great Strife. Before the Descending, during which the Everburning Skyfire fell and broke through the ceiling of the underworld, was the Long Dark. Next to nothing is known about the Long Dark, but it is widely believed by what little information survives from the Sign of Rising that the surface world was barren and life only began to flourish on it after spilling out from the underworld. During the Sign of Rising, the surface was populated by a myriad of creatures hailing from the lower dark, the ancestors of the Six Tribes among them. It was an age of exploration and initial settlement of the world above, but also of primitive conflict, brutality and cannibalism. The first city-states formed during this time, setting up the stage for the organized warfare of the millennium that was to follow. There is very little information about them, however, or indeed about the Sign of Rising as a whole.

The Sign of Rising was followed by the Great Strife, a thousand and one harvests where the world above was engulfed in an all-consuming war for control of the Skyfire. As city-states and petty kingdoms cannibalized each other much like the creatures and clans of old, greater states began to rise and fall, culminating in the formation of the original Nine Kingdoms. Strongest among these was the Vanna Tyrash Anur, the great Vantyrae Empire, ruthless and glorious. In response to its complete dominance over its opponents, the other tribes began to coalesce into blocs capable of stopping its advance. The three Great Mountain Kingdoms of Vothrall, Erethrum and Mythrasir allied themselves to fight for the Tribe of Dvarda. The Fereni and the Alfari formed Titania's Covenant in the deepest forests. And the Free Duchies of Ankh-Herazad saw the Menai of the plains and deserts unite in order to stave off annihilation. Amidst the apparently sempiternal stalemate that ensued, a deal was struck and the secret ceremony was performed by the Lords of the Nine Kingdoms, sundering the Skyfire into the Nine Flames of Anung. This, along with the sealing of the underworld, marked the end of the Great Strife.

With the end of the Great Strife came the Rule of Nine, the age that the peoples of Irre continue to live in, for there shall ever be Nine Kingdoms, controlled by the Nine Lords bound to the Nine Flames, and though these powerful, divine relics have changed hands on occasion, leading to the rise and fall of great empires, their number shall ever be nine. It was in the first century of the Rule of Nine that the True Skyfire was summoned to cast its holy light upon all of the Blessed Realm, and with its coming the Vanna Tyrash Anur collapsed, leaving its Flame and its treasures ripe for the picking. A few centuries later the Great Exodus would begin and the greatest of fleets would sail across the Ebony Sea towards salvation. But time in the Blessed Realm did not stand still, for there were many who remained behind, worshiping the Skyfire and the Nine Flames and their holders. The lands left by those who sailed beyond the horizon would be welcome holdings for those loyal to the Nine Lords, and history would continue moving, devouring the weak as it favored the strong.

But that is another story.

Stories of the Blessed Realm
The Birth of Arcana
Image
It was during the Sign of Rising that the ancestors of the Six Tribes began to find their calling. The primitive Dvarda moved to the mountains, where they discovered how to create the finest armor and weapons with the ores within the ridges, the blood of the earth and the rivers that flowed from the highest peaks. The Fereni wandered their land looking for beauty and channeled their love of all things sheenful into an unparalleled talent for crafting precious stones into works of art. The ancient Alfari created and moved into the first forests of the surface, mastering their terrain and the bounties they had to offer. And the Vantyrae hunted, as they ever had. But the Menai were different. It took them far longer to find their calling, not because they lacked any, but rather because it was a deeper one. Though they could not match a Dvar engineer or a Feren craftsman, they sought a deeper understanding of the world around them. They sought the elements, studied them carefully. They experimented with all sorts of substances, often to their own detriment. And in time, their efforts paid off. They learned to summon firelight with dust, to cure wounds with sap, to strengthen stone with ash and burn with water.

The knowledge unearthed by the Menai would eventually turn into the foundations of what is now known as Arcana, the eldritch disciplines. Under the guidance of the oldest and wisest of scholars and scientists in what is now known as the Free Duchies of Ankh-Herazad, the Menai created academies, guilds and ancient laboratories all across the dunes and plains for the furthering of their research and the development of new techniques to exploit the ever-growing gifts of knowledge. Alchemy, Sorcery, Divination, Spiritry, Convocation and other such arts are now known by many scholars across the world, but it is still known by all that the Menai are the true savants of those ancient mysteries, each holding the potential to become a master.
The Curse of Depredation
Image
In the old leys of the Sign of Rising, and even before then, during the Long Dark, all creatures sustained themselves from what little was available around them, in the deep darkness and in the barren surface. Most often, other creatures were included in this diet, and even, at times, those of their own kind. None of the creatures that lived in those times matched the primitive Vantyrae, however. Their hunger was such that they would readily devour friend and foe, ancient predators that maintained their ways even as their civilization evolved and sophisticated to accommodate for growing societies and more complex organization. For this they were feared and respected by the other races of Irre, admired and reviled by their rivals and competitors. Many wondered what the source of this hunger was, but few dared to ask.

It was only during the Great Strife, after the rise of the Vanna Tyrash Anur, that the peoples of Irre received an answer from the Vantyrae. As Emperor Midrash the First devoured a still-living Alfar champion in front of his troops, he explained to them the Curse of Depredation, that most ancient dark hunger that haunted and elevated his kind. Midrash spoke of how in antiquity the Vantyrae had suffered from widespread famine in the dark and turned on each other, feasting on their own kind to survive. In the heights of despair that the crisis brought, they found that they had not only gained sustenance, but also the strength of their victims. Their essences combined, the Vantyrae were greater beings than before, but their hunger only grew in turn.

Far and wide across Irre, the tale of the despotic Vantyrae's dark hunger and the essence-devouring power that it brought struck fear into the hearts of people, ultimately leading to the stalemate between the Nine Kingdoms and the end of the Great Strife.
The Soul of the Mountain
Image
The Great Strife was a time of utter chaos and conflict, and though much of the hostilities were directed towards the Vantyrae Empire towards the end of that bloody age, there had been plenty of conflicts between the other races present on Irre before then. The Alfari and Fereni, for example, had long feuded over the right to dwell in the forests of the surface. But perhaps one of the most bitter conflicts was that between the Mountain Kingdom of Mythrasir and the Free Duchy of Schehiran. The Menai of the desert sought to control the treasures of the mountain to fuel their endless search for knowledge, and the Dvarda guarded their lands jealously, driving away any and all foreigners. There were a great many skirmishes along the border between the two territories, but their leaders soon tired of such games, and the true war began.

The purple standard clashed against the black and gold banner as the armies of Schehiran met the armies of Mythrasir on the field of battle, at the foothills of the mountain. Though the Dvarda had the advantage of higher ground and the better armor and weaponry, the creative use of Arcana allowed the Menai to overcome their foes, pushing the armies of Mythrasir higher and higher with each victory. Before long, the capital of the Mountain Kingdom was surrounded, and an all-out offensive was launched. The Dvarda fled into the tunnels, but the King Under the Mountain would not allow the purple standard to fly over the ramparts of Mythrasir. In anger he called to the mountain itself for aid, and the mountain did answer. As the Dvarda were led to safety, the invaders were faced with quakes, landslides and collapsing tunnels. Thousands died, leaving the armies of Schehiran crippled.

In time, the foothills were reclaimed, a peace was negotiated, and the other races of Irre learned that to challenge the Dvarda in the mountains was folly. The King Under the Mountain taught his people, and those of the other Mountain Kingdoms, how to sense through the earth, read minerals and force stone itself to submit to their will. Such was the power of the tribe of the mountains.
The Gift of Phantasmata
Image
Though the Fereni were foremost known as the wandering fair folk of Irre due to their wanderlust, they had never been without hierarchies. They had an uncanny ability to band together when needed, and were fiercely loyal to their royalty, which they chose in confusingly esoteric ways. In time all creatures long for a home to return to, however, and the small craftsmen were no exception. Despite all of the breath-taking vistas they were able to see as they journeyed across Irre, however, they decided that there was no place as beautiful as the deep forests of Irre, where they sought to establish the Ferenhome under the guidance of High Queen Titania, a most fair abode for the fair folk.

Of course, there were those who did not see kindly to this. The Alfari saw this as an affront to their rule and an unsanctioned advance upon their territory. The feuds between Alfari and Fereni were long and plentiful, and to this ley some of that ancient grudge remains, but there once came a time where all such petty concerns were set aside. During the Great Strife, the Vanna Tyrash Anur set its sights upon the deep woods and one of the land's mightiest armies marched upon them. As the Alfari rallied their forces to fight a doomed war, the High King of the Fereni made an offer: he would send his wisest advisor to stop the scourge of the Vantyrae. Should they succeed, then the Alfari would never dispute the ownership of Ferenhome again, and come to their aid if the Vantyrae were to ever return. Seeing this as a way to buy some time at worst, and at best a solution, the Alfari accepted.

The High King's wisest advisor was, in fact, a young Feren by the name of Bakeen Valack, who led the Fereni's greatest warriors. But they did not fight the Vantyrae head on. What happened then is not well known, but the soldiers of the Vanna Tyrash Anur found that as they stepped into the forest, their minds seemed to play tricks on them. Soldiers became lost in the woods, or were frozen in place by frightening visions, or were tricked into firing arrows at each other by unseen hands. Regardless of whatever truly happened on that night, the advance of the Vantyrae was halted, and the Alfari held their end of the bargain. In gratitude, they formed Titania's Covenant with the Fereni, fighting as one against the Vanna Tyrash Anur and anyone else who dared threaten the woods. In time, rumors spread of a gift held by young Valack known as Phantasmata, the power to manipulate sense and sight, to create false truths and mirages. In time, all of Titania's brood would learn this art and become all the greater for it.
The Song of the Wild
Image
The Sign of Rising, though a time of opportunity and conquest, was also a time of strife and suffering, and it was not kind to the Alfari. Though they were able to create beautiful forests on the shell of the world, they were beset by the predatory Vantyrae and the industrious Menai, and it was only deep within the retreat of these woods that they were able to find some solace - at first. But with the migration of life from the underside of the world to its surface, great beasts too emerged and sought a place to live, finding in the forests of the Alfari an ideal environment and invading them in force. The tribe of the forest was forced to the periphery of their own territory for a time, adopting a nomadic lifestyle to flee from the enemy within and the invader without. It was a dire time for the Alfari, who were quick on their feet, but little else.

In desperation, they turned to their elders for guidance, and the elders would provide. In an act of what seemed to be mindless sacrifice, they went into the deepest of woods all by themselves, promising to find salvation within. At first the Alfari held fast to the hope they had placed on those old men and women, but then a harvest passed. Then another. Despair once more claimed the race of slender forest-dwellers, who could see only pain and suffering in their horizon. But five harvests after their departure, the elders returned to their people - four of them were dead, but one yet lived, and the creatures that followed in his wake seemed to obey his every command. The elder said that, on the verge of giving in to hunger and despair, he had found enlightenment where the others had found only death, and taught his people to commune with the beasts of the wild through song, serene and ethereal.

With the aid of the beasts, the Alfari reclaimed their forests and the surrounding territories, and became a force to be reckoned with in the land of Irre. Their bond with nature was made manifest and set in stone through that ancient pact made between man and beast, signed with the blood of the elders and the fading dreamlike notes of a long forgotten song.
The Blessing of Firelight
Image
The ancient rite carried out by the Nine Lords to divide the Everburning Skyfire, known as the Sundering Ceremony, created the Nine Flames of Anung that crystalized their right to rule the Blessed Realm. This is known far and wide across the land. However, it also resulted in the sudden, unexpected manifestation of the first Enkala. Nine women of supernatural beauty, known as the Nine Brides, descended from the dark skies like rays of light, each bound to one of the Flames, one to serve each of the Lords. It was through the union between the races that hailed from the underworld and the Nine Brides that the tribe of the sky, the Enkala, last of the Six Tribes, was born.

In time, the pious Enkala found their place as advisors, leaders and spiritual guides all across the Blessed Realm. Everywhere but in the Vanna Tyrash Anur, that is, for the Vantyrae saw that the Enkala had the gift of flight and had grown jealous. They began hunting down the tribe of the sky, using their dark curse so that they may absorb the essence of the Enkala and take the gift of flight for themselves. It was a dark time for them, but the Enkala had seen that while the other kingdoms of Irre displayed their ownership of their Flames proudly, the emperor of the Vanna Tyrash Anur kept it hidden, for his people could not stand the touch of such pure firelight for long. In retaliation, the winged ones sought advice from the flames themselves, and learned of another rite, the Summoning Ceremony. The Nine Brides and their children gathered in the place where the Skyfire had once stood and performed a sacrifice in order to appeal to something that slumbered far beyond the sky itself. In response to the suffering pleas of the children of the sky, another Skyfire, a True Skyfire, appeared on the horizon, far above the land where no mortal could reach it.

The presence of the True Skyfire and the firelight that it cast upon all of Irre led to the near immediate collapse of the Vanna Tyrash Anur and drove the surviving Vantyrae to hide away in the dark corners of the world, unable to return to the world below that had been sealed away, but unable to take to the skies with their new gift or live in the world of the surface. In time this would lead them to plan the Great Exodus, where they would be joined by all those discontent with the tyranny of the Nine Flames. The Flame belonging to the Vanna Tyrash Anur was claimed by the Enkala, who gifted it to the Fereni so that their rule would be no less legitimate than that of the Alfari. And lastly, those Enkala that yet lived after the hunting of their kind and the sacrifice during the Summoning Ceremony found themselves changed, endowed with the ability to manipulate firelight like no other race on the face of Anur could. Thus endowed, the tribe of the sky would never again fear oppression, for the SKyfire itself now stood with them.


The Far Land and the Underworld

Image
The land that the Six Tribes arrived in at the end of the Great Exodus is known by many names. To the Six Tribes, immigrants from the land of Irre, it is known officially as the Coldlight Archipelago, so called for the gentle azure glow of the flora of the isle of Veraden, fundamentally different from the radiant firelight, which guided the wayward sons and daughters of the Blessed Realm to safe port. However, it is also known by the Alfari and Fereni of the woodlands as the Faram Anur, or Far Land in the ancient language, after old myths born during the early Sign of Rising regarding a distant shore, out of reach of the wicked, where the land was lush and the shining forests were free from the rule of beasts. The Vantyrae call this region the Promised Isles, as they represented a safe haven free from the tyranny of the True Skyfire, where they could stand outside of the shade and their winged kin could stretch their wings and take to the skies again. And the Far Ones, original inhabitants of the Far Land, know it as the Abyssal Chain, as the Sylven originally rose up from the depths of the earth only to find that their new home was suspended above a dark, watery abyss that would later be known as the Ebony Sea.

The Far Land, unlike Irre, is a place where firelight does not stream down from the sky. There is no Skyfire to pierce through the darkness, leaving the isles a sunless place. The dark environs are lit up only by the firelight produced by the dwellers of the land and by the coldlight emitted by the bioluminescent flora of the isles. Strange creatures abound in the dark corners of the earth, but by and large, civilization has flourished, first by the hand of the Far Ones, who were later joined by the wanderers of the Six Tribes. Though there are tensions across the land, amidst the Far Ones, in the ranks of the Six Tribes and between the two groups of races, a relative peace rules over the land. Though localized conflicts are not infrequent, there is nothing quite on the scale of the Great Strife that tore apart the land of Irre thousands of harvests ago. Kingdoms rise and fall, but history marches on.

The history of the Coldlight Archipelago is, much like that of the Blessed Realm of Irre, long and bloody, it is in a sense not quite as eventful as that of its sister continent. There was no Descending, no Skyfire, no Sundering Ceremony. The dwellers of the dark found their way to the surface on their own, wandering through the winding tunnel systems that connect the Promised Isles to the underworld. First of these were the Sylven, ancient keepers of lore and shepherds of the Far Land, who nourished the surface and rendered it suitable to play host to the civilizations to come. Next were the Vilden and the Madren, ancient rivals whose conflicts poured out onto the surface as they arrived. Last of all came the Shayit, beings of earthen blood and firelight who are rumored to have extensive civilizations underground, but whose presence on the surface is scarce. The four races populated the isles, each more or less claiming a quarter of the region for themselves and quarreling over territories or keeping to themselves in the millennia to come. Then the Great Exodus occurred, and the children of Irre arrived. Thousands of harvests have passed since then.

Though there is no cycle in the sky to aid in the tracking of time, the Sylven long ago developed a method of timekeeping that is prevalent to this ley in the Coldlight Archipelago. A light-cycle or ley consists of four quarters during which the light conditions of the isles change according to certain phenomena. During the first quarter or waking, the isles are dark save for the faint azure and verdant light of the flora that can be found all across the archipelago. As the next quarter, or striding, rolls around, the isles are bathed in a dim blue glow that seems to originate from everywhere in the sky at once, a gentle light that does not burn or blind but dims the shadows of the darkened land; in addition, the bioluminescent flora seems to reach a greater brightness at this time of the ley. The third quarter, tempering, is more or less equal to the waking, but leads into the fourth quarter, slumbering, during which the wildlife closes off and there is no light to be seen naturally in all of the archipelago. After the slumbering, the light-cycle repeats itself and the next ley begins with the waking. Each quarter consists of six hours, making leys twenty-four hours long. Approximately every thirty leys a thick fog envelops the entire isles only to fade away after a few hours, a phenomenon known as the blanketing; subsequently, thirty-ley cycles are known as blanks. Ten blanks make a harvest, as it is how long it takes for the Sylven crop cycles to reach their conclusion. A hundred harvests make a century, and ten centuries are a millennium.

Image
As mentioned, the Abyssal Chain is connected to the underworld through a massive tunnel system which has several openings into the surface, in the form of enormous caves, chasms open to the air which lead deep into the underground, and even ancient paths and stairwells carved into the stone. Some of the isles are connected via underground tunnel-ways, which offer an alternative method to travel between isles that avoids the monsters borne from the deep black oceans, though the strange creatures that lurk underneath the surface make such a venture no less perilous than a trip across the inner seas. Some cities can be found here, such as the Dvarda settlement of Nyr Mythrasir in the isle of Harush, or the underground groves of Arboris in Veraden. By and large, however, the underground is uninhabited at least in terms of large settlements, with the civilizations of the surface unwilling to settle the depths from whence they came, though lone wanderers and nomadic tribes can often be found below. Despite the lack of permanent occupants, however, the depths are an oft visited location; aside from their importance in transport between isles for those lacking a vessel strong enough to brave the inner seas, the underground tunnels are rich with precious minerals and metals, making mining a dangerous but lucrative enterprise. Likewise, ancient relics and riches can be found by those willing to brave the dark.

Perhaps one of the most notable things about the underworld beneath the Promised Isles is that it is absolutely ridden with the ruins of mortal kingdoms and ancient civilizations that met an untimely end or received nature's swift and sudden condemnation. Abandoned castles, lost cities, solitary spires and silent necropoles can all be found if one ventures into the darkness under earth and sea. In fact, one of the most mysterious and feared phenomena known in the Far Land is that known as reclamation, wherein the earth would exert an alien will of its own and split open to swallow palaces, cities and even kingdoms, letting them sink to lakes of earthen blood or the bottom of enormous chasms, or burying them under soil and stone. No one knows the truth behind this dreaded reckoning, and many powerful lords live in constant fear of being the next to face the wrath of the earth. In truth, when the weight of the blood shed upon the land by a tyrant or the regrets left behind by the people who have passed grows too great, the world intervenes, taking the offending realm unto itself to cleanse the land. But such things are not for mortals to know.


Image
The Coldlight Archipelago is divided into seven isles. At the very center of the region lies VALARAN, THE DAWNING ISLE, so called because it was here where the Far Ones emerged from the underworld and where civilization on the Abyssal Chain began. Accordingly, there are a number of tunnels which connect Valaran to the other isles. Atop the treacherous mountains of Valaran lies the city of Aratosh, the de facto seat of power of the Promised Isles. Chosen by the Great Decad, a council of ten rulers from the ten races that inhabit the isles, the monarch of Aratosh rules for life and is in charge of upholding the status quo in the region, ensuring not that peace is enforced throughout the land, but that war never spills out across the isles and plunges the region into chaos. The current ruler of Aratosh is Queen Valdis the Thrice-Blessed, a beautiful and stern yet just matriarch of the Madren race.

To the North lies CYRNA, THE THUNDERING ISLE, so named after the frequent thunderstorms that assault the place. This phenomenon is not tied to the forces of nature or some ancient curse that befalls the small isle, but rather the result of the frequent arcane experimentation that takes place on the isle, as it is the home of the Consortium, an academic community that stands as the spiritual successor of the ancient Menai universities of the old world, where people of all races and walks of life are welcomed to initiate themselves into the study of Arcana. Though many flock to the isle for this reason, few remain, as the environment seems hostile to those who aren't yet apprentices of the eldritch disciplines. Be that as it may, everyone holds the Consortium in high regard for the impressive stock of magical artifacts and archived tomes of knowledge it has accrued over the harvests.

Northeast is HARUSH, THE YEARNING ISLE, known as such for the dozens of jagged peaks that rise up into the horizon, as if yearning for the sky. Harush is a hostile environment, full of rugged terrain and flowing rivers of earthen blood. But the Dvarda have made their home here, carving mines deep in the mountains to gather the riches of the underground, often joined by Madren, Menai and the occasional Vantyr. The Shayit are also most frequently seen here, as this is the environment where they are most comfortable, and it is rumored that the mythical kingdom of the Shayit lies somewhere underneath Harush. Though the tension between the Shayit and the other inhabitants of the isles is high, the city of Avernus, erected above the Boiling Lake, serves as a neutral zone of sorts where the various races of the area, as well as any visitors, are allowed to trade and mingle freely.

To the Southeast one can find TERADEN, THE SUNDERED ISLE, which is split into two by the great river Letharion, thus earning it its name. The Sundered Isle is home to the Vilden League, a community of beastly folk of all sorts which have settled the lush forests of Teraden. In the center of the isle, spread across both sides of the Letharion, is the city of Bridgeby, an important terrestrial and maritime trade hub in the area which is inhabited primarily by Menai, Vilden and Alfari. In the southeastern corner of Teraden is the formerly powerful Vantyr kingdom of Valroc, recently fallen into strife after a violent coup, which in the past could trace the lineage of its rulers back to Midrash the Great of the Vanna Tyrash Anur.

In the True South, there is SIDERAT, THE SHIVERING ISLE, almost completely uninhabited. The only settlement on the isle is the lonely seaside town of Enkelion, sole enclave of the tribe of the sky in the Far Land. Built by the Enkala to be a safe haven for their kind, the town subsists off of farming, fishing and trade with the nearby Bridgeby. Ironically the Shivering Isle is widely regarded as one of the most dangerous places to be in the whole archipelago, as further inland is an enormous cavern widely rumored to be the hideout of a dangerous group of bandits, the lair of an unseen beast, or quite simply cursed for the ages. None who have ever ventured nearby have returned, earning the isle its grisly reputation.

To the Southwest lies VERADEN, THE LUMINOUS ISLE, ancestral home and cherished land of the Sylven, which they began to share with the Alfari, the Fereni and the Enkala after their arrival at the end of the Great Exodus. The isle is for the most part peaceful, covered in lush vegetation which bathes the isle in coldlight, earning it its name. The isle is home to the most sacred location of the Sylven, the Illumina Forest, which holds the largest collection of luminescent flowers in all of the Promised Isles and is widely regarded to be one of the most beautiful sights in the region. The underground retreat of Arboris can also be found here, the sacred waters of its myriad lakes rumored to possess healing properties.

Finally, to the Northwest is TREGAL, THE SERENE ISLE, called such by the thick blanket of snow that covers the isle harvest-round, giving it the appearance of a serene white land. Despite its moniker however, Tregal is anything but peaceful. It is home to the great strongholds of the Madren, who are frequently at war with the Vilden that have made their home in the boreal forests in the northern part of the isle. As such, the pristine white snow of the isle is often stained with blood. Tregal is one of the more inhospitable isles in the Faram Anur, but even then, some of the hardier folk of the Six Tribes have managed to make an abode for themselves on the snowy plains and peaks, such as the Dvarda and the Vantyrae.

Stories of the Far Land
The Omen of War
Image
As the peoples of the Six Tribes journeyed past the safe haven of Veraden and towards the central isle of Valaran, which they soon found out had become a battlefield where the warlike Madren battled against the indomitable Vilden for the control of the area. The battle soon proved inconclusive, and a few of the more curious travelers followed the Madren back to their camp. During the battle, they had observed how the Madren warriors seemed to achieve feats of martial prowess that seemed impossible, and call upon strange abilities in combat. The travelers inquired about this, and though initially aloof, after a few pints of ale the Madren were wiling to share their stories with the newcomers.

There was once a time when the Madren were nearly wiped out. Not by their beastly foes, but by a pack of monsters risen from the depths of the underworld which threatened to consume their entire civilization before they set their sights on the rest of the isles. Though by no means weak, the Madren were not yet truly enlightened in the art of combat as they were now, and lacked the power to fight back against these creatures. But before the final blow could be dealt against them, a mysterious figure arrived, a warrior priestess known as Sigrun, who taught them how to fight back. She decreed that no Madren warrior would be caught without their weapon, and they learned to bond with their chosen arms and summon them in times of need. She declared that their steel would have no paragon, and thenceforth they learned to create such precious and powerful weapons that not even the finest Dvar blacksmith could replicate them. With these newfound gifts, the Madren drove back the monsters and rebuilt their towers and halls.

Sigrun's name faded into legend, but the teachings she imparted upon the Madren have never been forgotten since.
The Mirage of Brimstone
Image
The first to attempt to set up colonies in the distant isle of Harush were the Dvarda, who saw the mountainous terrain there as a perfect place to begin rebuilding the mighty civilizations they had left behind in the land of Irre. But as they began carving out their mines and building their great mountain halls, they became aware of strange events. Some assured that they had visions of the greatest beauty, or heard a voice so soothing as to numb their senses, and many were led astray, never to be seen again. Others, instead, saw the most horrifying things in the mines, becoming frozen in fear or running away with abandon, many going mad from the sight and some outright dropping dead. Worst of all was that these events were not limited to the mines - occasionally strange horned figures could be seen near the great stone halls of the Dvarda, which was soon understood to be an omen of more such events, of more tragedies that were yet to come.

One ley, a wandering Madir revealed to the Dvarda that this was not the result of a curse, or the attack of monsters, or even the action of toxic fumes from the depths. It was, in fact, the work of the Shayit, the dwellers of the underworld. For as long as the Far Ones had lived on the surface of the Abyssal Chain, most people with any sense or instinct of self-preservation had steered clear from the isle of Harush due to the tales told of the horned folk, who could manipulate the desires of mortals or drum up their deepest fears and manifest them in vile mirages that boggled the mind. He furthermore relayed that he had once conversed with an elderly Shay woman, who had told him that her people had learned these tricks from the Boiling Lake itself.

In the millennia that followed, Shayit became a more common sight, though their reputation as mischievous tricksters remained.
The Law of Howling
Image
The Six Tribes' first encounter with the Madren was also their first encounter with the Vilden, the beastly folk of the sunless woodlands. While the former showed their exemplary martial discipline and prowess, the latter fought with all of mother nature's savage fury. By itself, that would not, perhaps, have sufficed to overcome a well-armed and trained force of similar numbers, especially given the mystical weapons of the Madren, but the Vilden were not without gifts of their own. Many of them, rather than fight as the other races did, transformed into great beasts of enormous power, retaining all the cunning of their previous forms but now armed with great strength and new gifts. They brought these monstrous forms to bear upon their foes, ensuring that the blood shed by the Vilden was matched by the Madren.

Some of the travelers that observed the bloodbath from a distance later returned to the safety of Veraden, primarily the Alfari. Upon questioning their Sylven benefactors about those fearsome shapeshifting warriors, the green folk of the groves spoke to them about the history of the Vilden. They were not, like the Six Tribes or the other Far Ones, a singular race - rather, they were the survivors of several different broods of creatures that had banded together in the darkness of the underworld to survive from whatever it was that had wiped out their corresponding kin, be they monsters, disease, disaster or simple hunger. And it was in the lightless bowels of the earth itself that they communed with the creatures of the deep, receiving in turn the revelation of the strength hidden within their beastly blood. With this newfound power, the Vilden banded together for the survival of their kind.

Bound together by the law they found in the depths, the Vilden continue even now to carve a space for themselves in Anur.
The Bounty of Life
Image
When the Great Exodus came to an end at the isle of Veraden, the survivors of the great fleet were greeted by the Sylven, the green folk of the groves, noble shepherds of life in the Far Land. As they sheltered the battered men and women from the Blessed Realm, who had faced ineffable struggles to reach their promised land away from the Nine Flames of Anung. Compared to the nightmare that was traversing the Ebony Sea, beset by storm and famine and creatures from the deep, Veraden was a paradise, full of flora and fauna they had never seen and bathed in a different kind of light than that which ruled the homeland they had left behind. This first encounter established a precedent, and in the subsequent harvests, the newcomers would find safe haven in the lands of the Sylven as they began to spread across the isles.

In the long harvests that followed, many would ask how the Sylven were able to create such a lush haven, and how it hadn't been attacked by the other civilizations on the isles. The Sylven would always respond the same way, telling the story of how their ancestors cared deeply for the flora and fauna, first of the underground forests where they dwelt, and then of the forests they created on the surface. Such devotion eventually yielded an unexpected reward as the wildlife revealed hidden secrets to the shepherds of the isles. The Sylven learned how to bestow vitality upon living creatures and even tamper with flesh and root alike. This allowed them to create the beautiful groves and gardens of Veraden, as well as lurking beasts and deadly traps to be set upon intruders should the sacred forests be desecrated. It is thus that the isle has remained protected for so long.

The gifts of mother nature have continued to serve the Sylven well since then, and their sacred retreats have been kept pristine.


Hey! If you've gotten to this point, that means you're almost there! You've already gotten through all of the heavy worldbuilding and lore I've included in this project. Up next are only a few clarifications, out of character considerations, and requisites for participating in this project, along with some examples. They'll be included in the next post, as this one's gotten too big for NS. See you at the end!
Last edited by Zarkenis Ultima on Fri Apr 01, 2022 12:37 am, edited 7 times in total.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Mon Feb 14, 2022 8:28 pm

Magic and the Supernatural
Anur is a very unique place, filled with strange life, supernatural phenomena and beings with powers that defy the laws of the reality we are accustomed to. This is in large part because of the unique role that belief plays in the world of Anur, where stories have the ultimate power. If a tale of a mighty wizard living in the mountains spreads across a continent, then the once helpless hermit who lived there would become just such a powerful master of spells. If rumor spreads that the oils of a rare herb that grows only in the deepest recesses of the underworld has the power to cure any ailment once consumed, then a brave adventurer may find that this is indeed the case. And if enough people believe that the wielder of an ancient relic is the rightful ruler of a given land, then perhaps, just perhaps, fate may twist its winding coils and twisting paths so that just such a coronation may come to pass.

But belief does not stand all-powerful. It can never supersede the free will of the creatures of Anur, or create and destroy as it wills. Though many may believe that a king is nothing but a cruel tyrant, in the end this will change nothing if he is a just ruler deep down. No matter how many may come to believe that the Blessed Realm does not, in fact, exist, it will not simply vanish from the face of Anur as a result. And in spite of how many would come to place faith in a lifeless idol, no all-powerful deity will spring to life in response to their sacrifices and prayers. Belief, like magic and the powers of the world, has its limits, clearly defined and insurmountable.

Still, belief is a powerful force. It is capable of granting people supernatural abilities, imbuing artifacts with powers that are passed on to their holders, and endow various materials with special properties. Just as it can grant, so too can it take. If faith in a champion fades away, their abilities will not fade away instantly, but the subsequent deflation may cause them to deteriorate, either physically or mentally - they may begin to grow frail, or lose their minds as a result of the void that this creates in their essence, for belief had once caused their power to swell and now there was nothing to sustain the empty space that was left behind. In artifacts and other inanimate objects, the effects are far less harmful and the properties gained may linger on for far longer than they might have in a living subject. In either case, however, oblivion is a powerful force, and will render anything powerless given enough time.

What, then, is magic? An easy answer is that it is simply what people believe it is. But that is not very satisfactory. A more concrete answer is that in the world of Anur, people's beliefs in regards to magic follow one of two trends. Firstly, it is believed that certain traditions and disciplines, if followed, studied and practiced carefully, may endow one with the ability to cast spells and perform rituals in order to manifest supernatural abilities. Such is the case of the Arcana, the eldritch disciplines developed by the Menai. Secondly, many cultures hold the belief that children born during a certain sign or omen, born into certain families thought to possess mystical blood, or people who perform certain rituals or sacrifices, will manifest magical powers. The exact details may vary from culture to culture, of course, as myths and legends continue to shape the world of Anur.

Of note is that the way belief endows creatures with power varies depending on the exact nature of it. Those who are affected by superstition and granted special abilities because of it may find that in spite of everything, their abilities are not as potent as those whose lives have inspired legends and folk tales about them, and only them. In essence, belief is most potent when the subject it is about is one's own unique identity, as opposed to a class or manner of being one may belong to in some capacity.

It is important to note that the above information is displayed here for the sake of informing players for the sake of the character creation process. It is not known by the people of Anur, and having it known to your character or their people, or exploited in-universe for the sake of creating a more powerful character, will be considered metagaming and will not be acceptable.


Participation Rules
Worldbuilding Guidelines
These are the rules I expect you to follow when you participate in this project. I expect you to follow them at all times. They are fairly simple, so this should not be difficult, but actions may be taken in case of noncompliance.These are general guidelines to be kept in mind when doing some original worldbuilding for the setting, whether for the sake of your character or an adventure you're creating. At my discretion, I might veto a particular piece of writing if it doesn't stick to these.
  • I, Zarkenis Ultima, am your OP, and Tomia is your Co-OP. Listen to us when we're speaking in an official capacity and we should get along just fine.
  • Follow the forum rules at all times.
  • Try to read the whole OP. I know, it's a doozy. Doesn't have to be right away, doesn't have to be before you post, but try. If you ask a question that can be easily answered by reading, I can let it slide, but if it happens repeatedly, I'll know, and I may or may not be cross about it.
  • No godmodding, metagaming, powergaming or rules-lawyering. We're here to have fun, not win and make everyone else lose.
  • I won't set any specific limits or deadlines, because as we all know, life finds a way. But try to post somewhat consistently and let us know if there's anything going on that might not let it happen for the foreseeable future.
  • Have fun!
  • Generally speaking, we'll do first come, first served here. What this means is that you shouldn't try to contradict material that was written or accepted before yours came along (including the OP). In some cases this might be overlooked but, don't count on it.
  • Avoid superlative language. I'm not really keen on people jumping in and trying to make "the greatest kingdom", "the wisest coven" or "the most powerful clan" or anything of the sort. If you're going to submit a piece of worldbuilding, such as a faction or a city-state, I'd much prefer it if said piece stood up by its own merit instead of standing on top of something else.
  • You can use certain elements of history from Irre or even the underworld if it makes sense for them to have been conserved in oral tradition or old records, but try not to go crazy with it. Remember that the main focus in this world is the new world that is the Far Land.
  • This is a fairly dark fantasy setting in terms of ambiance, but it's not meant to be super dark in terms of storytelling or morality and all that stuff. Humor is fine, encouraged even, and I don't fly well with excessive edge, so keep that in mind.


Characters & Adventures
At last we arrive to the section I imagine you've been waiting for, where I show you the app so you can fill it out and join in. Except, in a plot twist worthy of Poe, there was never an application form. In the interest of feeding the atmosphere a little bit - and, yes, better gauging people's writing skills and their grasp on the setting from the get-go - we're going with a nonstandard application process. So here's what you do: you write a short piece on your character, preferably in flowery prose, describing their story, their appearance, any notable abilities and gear, optionally explaining their reasons for joining a given adventure and compulsorily containing the title phrase and recurring motif somewhere in the dark. No, I'm not kidding on that last requisite, and yes, it's that easy! Afterwards, I (or possibly Tomia) review your writing, ask any questions we feel pertinent, and if everything seems to be in order, you're in. Just like that. You can: write the piece however you want, format it however you want, include embedded pictures or links to pictures within the text, and in general have fun with it. You can't: contradict any prior worldbuilding, make an overpowered character, leave out the title, and that's pretty much it. Simple, right? There'll be an example piece written by Tomia a bit further down to show you how it's done.

I mentioned earlier that you can optionally include a character's reasons for joining a given adventure. That's because, as I mentioned near the beginning of this thread, the intent is not to have one single linear storyline, but to allow people to create their own adventures and invite other players on them. I'd personally recommend creating a character with a particular adventure in mind, but you can just create them standalone and figure out their reasons for being in this or that adventure later. As for how to create an adventure, well, the process is fairly similar to what you need to do to submit a character, you write a short piece where you explain the backdrop of the adventure, where it begins, where it ends, and if applicable what sort of character it will apply to, in case you want to have, like, a Dvar-only adventure to recreate the Hobbit or whatever. There'll be an example a bit further down as well, which will also serve as a starter campaign of sorts, run by yours truly. Now, while the process of submitting an adventure is fairly simple, remember that an adventure you run is your sole responsibility, and it's your duty to plan out encounters, keep things consistent and keep all players entertained, not anyone else's.

Without further ado, here's an example of an adventure pitch and an example of a character pitch.



The Blade of Amaranth
Rumors in the High City of Aratosh speak of a peculiar figure, a collector of the mysterious and priceless that is rarely seen, but rewards handsomely. This man is now in search of a particular artifact, the Blade of Amaranth, wielded long ago by the founders of the Kingdom of Valroc to the far Southeast, rumored to have been lost somewhere in the dark over a millennium ago. Now, whispers on the wind speak that the artifact has surfaced far to the Northeast, on one of the many lost ruins that lie slumbering underneath the Yearning Isle. In the interest of acquiring this for himself, the collector has hired a contractor, a young Vantyr traveler by the name of Aleish, to gather a team of adventurers and embark on a quest to retrieve the Blade of Amaranth. Though such a quest promises many perils, including the mischievous Shayit that live in the vicinity of Harush, the unseen monstrosities that lurk in the underworld and even other groups of adventurers and mercenaries in search of the blade, not to mention the issue of securing passage through sea or land to the neighboring isle, the collector promises a substantial reward in gold upon the safe return of the group and the delivery of the artifact. Now it only remains to be seen whether Aleish will find a group of brave adventurers willing to make the journey, and whether they will be able to secure the blade, or fail in the attempt and become lost forever somewhere in the dark.


The Lady of Mercy
The light is life, it is mercy and peace. It brings heart to the world of darkness. These are the beliefs of the Order of the Eternal Flame, that worshiped the original Skyfire. Betrayed by all around them, the Order led many Enkala away from the tyranny of the Nine Flames. They journeyed to a new land of darkness, determined to bring with them the light through great deeds of kindness. They are now an order of wandering knights, dedicated to helping those in need wherever they are.

This is the origin of Anlolar Ekkla, the Lady of Mercy, as she is often known by many locals across the isles. A warrior, a healer, and a loyal servant of her faith, Anlolar was born in a local monastery dedicated to the order. Her parents were themselves knights of the order and left her to be raised by elders. She was raised in the light, to be its greatest champion. And she has yet to disappoint. It has been a little over a century since her birth and the Lady of Mercy has long traveled the isles, righting wrongs, healing the sick, even serving as the protector of local villages and cities for a time. She never stays anywhere too long forever, as it is her destiny to wander and spread the light. Hers is a solitary quest and not always an easy one. While she is the Lady of Mercy, the warrior of faith is more than willing to vanquish evil when it proves beyond redemption. It has been many generations and the light has still not graced the isles, but Anlolar remains undeterred in her goal of spreading peace and mercy wherever she can. If the righteous need aid, they should surely seek out the Lady of Mercy who no doubt wanders somewhere in the dark.



Shout-Outs
Shout out to Tomia for being a huge assistance in providing feedback and helping me organize my ideas for this big project. Shout out to the catnip crew for cheering me on with their hype. Shout out to the Legacy of Kain and Fallen London franchises for being a huge inspiration for this project. Shout out to the P2TM community for showing interest in this rather ambitious roleplay and for helping me develop my writing skills for all the years I've been a part of it now.
Last edited by Zarkenis Ultima on Wed Mar 16, 2022 3:22 am, edited 8 times in total.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Somewhere in the Dark Archive Post

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Mon Feb 14, 2022 8:29 pm

Active Characters

The Tragic Prince
Woeful is the tale of the ancient bloodline of the Ozarim, mighty conquerors of yore, now consigned to ruin and oblivion as the world has passed them by. Woeful too is the tale of the last solitary scion of that noble bloodline, Aleish of Velshamir, the wandering Vantyr. Now a new contract has reached him, a quest that will lead him to the depths of the underworld, an adventure to retrieve an artifact not unlike his past self: sorrowful, lost and alone... somewhere in the dark.
The Last Watcher
Only the clan Kvaselis still remember the order and the god Voi. This is where the story of Aivaras Kvaselis starts. He was indicted in the Watchers and was taught the ways and magic of the Watchers. After Egle's betrayal, all Watchers but him were dead. He will have his revenge as the last Watcher and stop the plans that Egle weaves somewhere in the dark.
The Many-Armed
In Dvardan culture, tradition and discipline reign supreme. Those who do not conform to the standards set for them tend to find themselves shunned to the outskirts of civilization, with many leaving altogether. Altani Puckis, or Puck as she preferred to be called, was one such abberant soul. Thus began the story of Puck the Many Armed, somewhere in the dark.
The Lady of Mercy
The light is life, it is mercy and peace. It brings heart to the world of darkness. These are the beliefs of the Order of the Eternal Flame. This is the origin of Anlolar Ekkla, the Lady of Mercy, as she is often known by many locals across the isles. If the righteous need aid, they should surely seek out the Lady of Mercy who no doubt wanders somewhere in the dark.
The Forlorn Sentinel
Artorius was the first Spinose of his generation, the first batch of Spinose planted in several harvests in fact. A cold and silent anger flashed inside him prompting him to leave his home Garden and to travel the archipelago. After nearly forty harvests of time his spirit has become wearier and emptier as his fire for vengeance slowly simmers with his final destination somewhere in the dark.
The Roving Courier
The illustration on the parchment depicts a young woman of Alfari descent. Her features appear fair and well proportioned, and the few Alfari walking about the town do an excellent job of filling in the details lost to the art of sketching. Above the small picture reads a simple name: Eavan O'Bryne. She offers her services to deliver things to where no one else can, somewhere in the dark.
The Anointed Son
Beauty-loving, free-spirited and adventurous, Inti sought to see the sights that the world had to offer, experience the heights of wonder and the depths of horror that lay concealed in the hidden corners of the isles, and write songs about the stories that have been lost to the darkness. Recently he has come to learn about just such an opportunity in the Luminous Isle, a mysterious quest to prove a brother's innocence and uncover a devious conspiracy that lies hidden somewhere in the dark.
The Half-Blind Seer
Enter Jorel Renaud, born as a young member of the Sanna. Being a magician with powerful extrasensory abilities, he is wildly popular among all walks of the public. Some of them go on to find their prize. Others are not as fortunate. The luckiest simply find that what they were searching for never existed. The lesser off are betrayed, or worse, become lost somewhere in the dark.
The Blade of the Bear
Gifted with ferocious strength and berserkerous rage, the Ice Bear Reborn, or the Ursek Otso, is said to be destined to kill his brother and father. It was with this story that Karhu Isaz was exposed to the fatal cold. Fate, however, does not enjoy being tampered with and scavangers had found the child. Now at his 23rd harvest he feels something stirring Somewhere in the dark.
The Wandering Bard
A bard with a flair for music. Most people saw Klelane as such. Born in the Order of the Eternal Flame, she bears the blood of the Enkala. She had a set goal in mind, and she would accomplish it. As she stepped out into the wilderness, she gripped on her zither and old bow from her times with the Fereni, and embarked on her third journey somewhere in the dark.
The Howler In The Dark
Maka was not exactly insane, but desperate times beget desperate measures. A vile plague had befallen upon his town. The Wendigo howled. It had its hunting spree, now it slumbers, waiting for the perfect time to feast somewhere in the dark.
The Master of Flames
Somewhere in the empty Consortium library, a lone Menai mage sits hunched over a spellbook in the forbidden section of the library, surrounded by candles lit with flames of myriad colors. Malory Lasair, once a student in the Consortium, now a disgraced flame magician who strives to find a cure for their beloved's illness somewhere in the dark.
The Maverick Guard
Narill Estoni always loved nature. This is of course, very common for an Alfari, especially one raised in Veraden. But Narill's love was different than most, for she has the heart of warrior. Now she has but one goal in life, clear her brother's name and hunt down those that seek to harm that which she holds sacred. Either way, the truth she seeks or the truth she fears dwells somewhere in the dark.
The Storm Child
No one could truly tell how, but stories of a toddler surviving somewhere in the dark soon circulated throughout the Isle. Many believe this is how Nemina got her start. Now she looks for perfection somewhere where perfection was the only way to survive. Somewhere that she had to achieve the impossible, or die trying. Somewhere in the dark.
The Traveling Cleric
"I found her all alone, left amidst a scene of destruction. Nyx grew into a breathtaking young woman: selfless, talented, and brave. I’ve lived a long and fulfilling life, but I’d never felt such pride as when she earned her robes. Great good can emerge from evil, I am certain of it. She is strong, but I pray for you to watch over her all the same as she ventures somewhere in the dark."
The Deep Red Water
The Great Sellsword Ozark was an absent father to his flesh and blood, fraternal twins, Ozella and Oziel. Ozella found herself utilizing the talents her father left her, letting her become a swordswoman by sheer idiotic luck. But what lies below the waves are monsters far worse than the beings on the surface can conjure up, and Ozella was empowered by what she found somewhere in the dark.
The Prince of Swords
The Great Sellsword Ozark was an absent father to his flesh and blood, fraternal twins, Ozella and Oziel. Oziel threw his lot in with like-minded adventurers who sought to perfect their combat. He learned under several masters, exchanging free labor to learn the sacred art of swinging blades. After the humiliating outcome of a duel with his father, he continues to seek strength somewhere in the dark.
The Nomad
When the dwellers of the surface of the Abyssal Chain descend to the depths, they travel in fear of many things. Raggar of Tughlat has seen twenty-five harvests and has been a nomad warrior for ten of them. after saying goodbye to his family and his blade-brothers, he set out from his tribe, wandering alone for several blanks, searching for a cause to serve somewhere in the dark.
The Stoneshaper
Named for her unusual golden skin and hair, Saffron Cindermaw stood out even among other Shayit from a very young age. Leaving the girls with her ex-husband while she gets this cleared up and dawning the beginning of her thirty-seventh harvest, Saffron now ventures to exchange steel for coin and unusually for a Shayit, chaos for peace somewhere in the dark.
The Spirit of Vengeance
A small sect of the Madren more gifted in the realm of the Eldritch rituals devoted themselves to creating warriors possessing even greater ferocity and strength than the beasts of old. Thus started the story of Sebastian Y'dobon, who was offered a chance to help them. Donning a simple mask, leathers, and a maul the Spirit of Vengeance hoped to find true purpose somewhere in the dark.
The Mad Scholar
For Shelazen Menelith, the suspicion and scorn of the small-minded cannot smother the joys of discovery and learning. A free spirit who has remained distant from the institutions that control the flow of knowledge in the Promised Isles, Shelazen has learned to create miraculous contraptions and concoctions, and is ever seeking to learn more, searching for knowledge somewhere in the dark.
The Children of the Hunt
The great nomadic tribe of the Ka'ubala wander across the isles, subsisting off the land and building great tent cities as they feast and live freely as their ancestors did. It is from this great pack society that Shetal Shadowclaw and Braddock Bonebreaker find themselves exiled. Left penniless and without roots, the siblings now seek to reclaim what is theirs somewhere in the dark.
The Custodian
The Custodians were a beloved sight throughout the Kingdom of Amalur, where they acted as the Queen's messengers and ambassadors, and brought with them joy and beauty. A child by the name of Sveta Baeta was among the adopted. After Queen Baeta's passing, they decided to separate and spread her ideals throughout the Abyssal Chain. Thus Sveta traveled, somewhere in the dark.
The Pied Piper of Harush
Somewhere in the Yearning Isle, a young Shayit geologist discovered rare minerals. His wife Crystal had accompanied him. The geologist had to play midwife, and mother and babes made it through the ordeal safely. Thus began the rocky start of Tarquin Ragsdill and his twin brother Torquil. Tarquin is now following one of his leads, knowing that his twin is still alive somewhere in the dark.
The High Flyer
Teriani Roran was infatuated with the Sky Cae as a child, often crawling up to the top boroughs of her wood to catch a glimpse of the roving pack as they flew by. However, as she was soon to find out, it was to be much more than just a vague fantasy. To her, it is a simple proposition. Chase the light of life at any opportunity, or content yourself to be lost somewhere in the dark.
The Raconteur of the Wildlands
Tilian of Morgana. A bastard, thief, rogue, and fabulist of the highest order. His words weave magic so strong you can feel his stories. He appears as he pleases, bringing joy and song, brawls and duels, love and heartbreak, before disappearing. But, the roads and camp are his home as much as the bars. Should you walk the land, there's always a chance you'll meet him somewhere in the dark.

Idle Characters

The Maiden of the Grove
"I have become lost in the lush forests of Veraden, I have come across the skeletal azure beasts that guided me to the cabin, and I have encountered its sole inhabitant, the maiden of the grove. Her name is Faynir Asteri, wielder of the seven flames, and the twin hounds are Lazuli and Caeruli, her loyal guardians and companions. She is not the first or the only one to watch over the forest, but she is the last, and I believe that, deep inside, she yearns for the opportunity to leave the grove and venture somewhere in the dark."

Past Characters

The Forgotten Fugitive
Born as a fur tapper's son in a sleepy frontier village in the Vilden-infested woods of northern Tregal, Ællard's birth was more extraordinary than one might give him credit for; the lad was born beneath a full moon, as well as the fiery northern lights. Many years later, Ællard flees from the isle of Tregal and tries to hide from his crimes somewhere in the dark.
The Mercenary
"You want my life story, eh?" the Menash man said. He was certainly no older than his mid-thirties, and had an olive skin. "Name's Andronicus. I... I could lie to you and tell you that I slew the beast with my sword. But truth is, I ran away. I sprinted like I had never sprinted before, almost leaping forward. Thus I survived, but I was all alone in the world, somewhere in the dark."
The Airborne Adventurer
Most Fereni live a sedentary lifestyle. With dark green hair, striking blue eyes, large, shimmering wings, and an adventurous spirit, Farak the Windrunner is not one of them. When he heard someone was putting together a group to find the Blade of Amaranth, he signed himself up to journey with a group of talented adventures to find fame, fortune, and mysterious artifacts somewhere in the dark.
The Man from Bridgeby
If one knew of the history of Bridgeby, the great port city on the isle of Teraden, they would have heard the tale of the Vermillion Company. And if, by chance, they were really a student of the city, they might have heard tell of Ingo Baland. Fearing for his life, Ingo made for Veraden and sought refuge in Arboris, where he now lies in a healing pool, somewhere in the dark.
The Wandering Collector
Tales persist of an order, a guild even, of explorers, archivists, archaeologists, and historians that hold no allegiance to any one king or chieftain. Few know the order as the Collectors of Amon-Harak, named after the mountain from which they operate. Rumors say that Kregor Greymane dares not return to Amon-Harak, having found something horrible somewhere in the dark.
The Adjudicator
The sound of thunder rumbled up from a village beyond the valley, behind the Vilden city of Vinst. It wasn't a sixteenth of a quarter before the figure of Magna Eriksdotter descended on the town square. She loved the city, but she also loved the independence of not always having to answer to a superior, or having inferior to command. She also had somewhat of a longing to be more than an enforcer of city and to be an actual adventurer. She'd have to pack supplies and go out looking for it somewhere in the dark.
The Whispering Warrior
Mardun Zuhlem was born to a Menai and a Madren, his upbringing away from the limited sources of civilization scattered across the isles. His schooling was on combat and adventure; the men and monsters of the Isles and how to slay them. The whispers tell of a beast of a man who never stops, and is prepared to plunge himself into the dangers that lie somewhere in the dark.
The Pilgrim Scholar
What can I tell you of Matias Ilmarinen? More than most. But perhaps less than you would need in order to understand him, even so. He has given his life to the pursuit of knowledge, and yet he is a devilish hard man to know. It was not for vengeance that Matias chose the road; it was because anything else was a death sentence, for him and for anyone he loved. And if Matias Ilmarinen has a great calling, it is the same one he always had: to learn, to understand, to shine light on secrets forgotten somewhere in the dark.
The Vagrant King
A group of children sit in the ground, intently focused on the ancient Fereni crouched in front of them. The adults thank him, and his companion, for their assistance in bringing in the harvest. Such is the life of The Vagrant King, Safa-Dir Evarandil, and his Righteousness Path, a spiritual movement that began as a way of following in his footsteps somewhere in the dark.
The Lost Heir
Valarr was his name, and although he would never say it I knew he shared the blood of Aelenarr. His life is a solitary one, for I am sure the noble rulers of Valroc would not take kindly to his supposed legendary birthright, and claim to rule over all. Instead, he must live alone or with those of the other tribes, accepting tasks for coin, hunted by deluded fools somewhere in the dark.



Active Stories

The Blade of Amaranth
Rumors in the High City of Aratosh speak of a collector of the mysterious and priceless, now in search of an artifact, the Blade of Amaranth, rumored to have been lost somewhere in the dark over a millennium ago... Now it only remains to be seen whether a group of brave adventurers will be able to secure the blade, or fail in the attempt and become lost forever somewhere in the dark.
The Great Monster Hunt
Shetal Shadowclaw and Braddock Bonebreaker were given a condition upon which they could return to the Ka'ubala and retain their wealth. Slay a monster never before seen from the island of Siderat. Together the two use their skills to scout out competent companions who might join them. Whatever awaits them and their soon to be allies surely does so somewhere in the dark.
The Fall Guy
The secluded underground town of Arboris experienced a terrible shock recently when it was discovered one of the smaller pools of sacred water that the town is built around had been poisoned. If there is a conspiracy to be uncovered, Narill Estoni will surely have to leave the bright paradise of Veraden and stumble blindly somewhere in the dark.

Pending Stories

The Golden Flute
"I'm going to Harush. My client wants me to bring him a magical artifact, the Golden Flute. According to some ancient texts, this flute allows one to enchant people. The flute was discovered in some ancient ruins by an Alfar who used it to enchant hundreds of Dvarda. They dug deep and greedily, until they awoke a terrible beast. It slew everyone and the flute was lost somewhere in the dark."
A Bard's Tale
The Spire houses many a minstrel, merrymaker, or soldier searching to master the arts of poetry, music, and oration. However, to join, you must bring a song or story not yet heard. For young Pashor, the dealine was closing in. He would hire a ship, adventurers, and a veteran bard. He would set off to the west of Teraden, where ancient rumors promised a story worth telling, somewhere in the dark.
The Crownless King and The Graying Knight
There will be a competition in two leys' time. Rangers, seekers and hunters have been subtly called forth from across Aratosh and beyond. A handful will be chosen to journey to Harush to retrace the steps of Cathán of Orvis and bring him back or word of what has happened. However, none are likely prepared for the dangers and revelations awaiting them in Harush, somewhere in the dark.

Completed Stories

None thus far.
Last edited by Zarkenis Ultima on Wed May 25, 2022 2:07 am, edited 23 times in total.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Mon Feb 14, 2022 8:29 pm

Reserved.

You can now post!
Last edited by Zarkenis Ultima on Thu Feb 17, 2022 2:10 am, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Tomia
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 15647
Founded: Apr 13, 2013
New York Times Democracy

Postby Tomia » Mon Feb 14, 2022 8:32 pm

I certainly plan to join in on this adventure to... somewhere in the dark

User avatar
The Republic of Atria
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 24399
Founded: Nov 12, 2013
Capitalist Paradise

Postby The Republic of Atria » Mon Feb 14, 2022 8:52 pm

Rolling on in to represent the Catnip Crew, as well as tag this place to begin work on the Berserker and the [REDACTED]

User avatar
Absolon-7
Diplomat
 
Posts: 928
Founded: May 11, 2014
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Absolon-7 » Mon Feb 14, 2022 9:01 pm

Nice to see this up.

User avatar
Segral
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1750
Founded: Sep 06, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Segral » Mon Feb 14, 2022 9:18 pm

now THIS is real
yea bro idk

User avatar
Indo-pasif archipelago
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1261
Founded: Jan 12, 2013
Democratic Socialists

Postby Indo-pasif archipelago » Mon Feb 14, 2022 11:14 pm

No idea if I can join but I'm going to watch it with keen interest
I picked the Anarchist Hog

User avatar
Theyra
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5935
Founded: Aug 29, 2015
Democratic Socialists

Postby Theyra » Mon Feb 14, 2022 11:28 pm

Very interested in this.

User avatar
Thai Sweet Billy
Attaché
 
Posts: 77
Founded: Dec 20, 2021
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Thai Sweet Billy » Mon Feb 14, 2022 11:47 pm

I dig it. I doubt I have the time and energy for this, so I will watch this with great interest
I Love Thai Sweet Billy
Chief Keef for Prezzy 2024
FREE YOUNG THUG AND GUNNA LONG LIVE LIL KEED | I have an unhealthy obsession with goblin girls and capybaras
What's up, guys. Quandale Dingle here. I trapped myself in this goofy ahh signature after putting percs in the account owner's drink.

User avatar
Finland SSR
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 15224
Founded: May 17, 2014
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Finland SSR » Tue Feb 15, 2022 1:56 am

I shall read this and become a master of the lore
I have a severe case of addiction to writing. At least 3k words every day is my fix.

User avatar
Window Land
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 395
Founded: Nov 02, 2016
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Window Land » Tue Feb 15, 2022 8:22 am

Well, this looks exciting. I don't think I have time for much, but I'll definitely try to join up for an arc, at least.
Bored college student who is probably supposed to be doing something important.
Woodie Flowers wrote:If you’re anti-science, you’re pro-stupid.

Evelyn Beatrice Hall wrote:I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.

Winston Churchill wrote:Democracy is the worst form of government – except for all the others that have been tried.

Randall Munroe wrote: I can't remember where I heard this, but someone once said that defending a position by citing free speech is sort of the ultimate concession; you're saying that the most compelling thing you can say for your position is that it's not literally illegal to express.
Free Speech

User avatar
The Republic of Atria
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 24399
Founded: Nov 12, 2013
Capitalist Paradise

Postby The Republic of Atria » Tue Feb 15, 2022 8:36 am

The Spirit of Vengeance


Many harvests ago, the Madren were once nearly exterminated by monsters emerging from somewhere in the dark. The memories became legends and those legends created fear. Though now they are far superior in the art of combat and war, the fears that one ley the monsters may return with even greater ferocity. A small sect of the Madren more gifted in the realm of the Eldritch rituals, devoted themselves to creating warriors possessing even greater ferocity and strength than the beasts of old, but they needed to hone their craft first.

Thus started the story of Sebastian Y'dobon, a man as plain as the flour he used to bake bread in a bakery just as easily passed over by the many who frequented the small village of Kleensborough. Until one fateful afternoon when the village had some strange visitors who came to his bakery in search of meal. Sebastian obliged, and rather than leaving, they offered him a chance to help them as they were doing research. He knew little of the arcane, but they insisted that he needed simply to follow their instructions and would be paid well. Coin was coin, and anything that broke up the monotony of making bread day in and day out.

What he did not expect was to be taken and dragged somewhere in the dark, only awakening to find himself restrained and surrounded by many arcane symbols and runes. Before he could even begin to call out for help, he felt lightning raking over his body and his mind as something was forced into his mind, something dark and angry. His body twisted and warped, forcibly growing larger and larger. The metal cuffs that bound him shattered and he arose, now a beast of a man with strength to match.

Sebastian watched from his eyes actions that were not his. What had possessed him, a spirit or demon that never ceased it's screaming as it quite literally tore it's summoners to shreds, their magic faltering as it struck his body, and escaped into the woods. Days passed before Sebastain gained a modicum of control back, attempting to communicate with the spirit that was now puppeting his body and eating wild animals to sustain itself. Despite the days of intense running and hunting, only after days was the spirit weakened enough that he could exert slight control, steering the mad spirit away from the innocent and into the dens of bandits and ne'er do wells. It was then that Sebastian and the spirit came to a simple agreement: the spirit would be allowed to slay the deserving as much as it pleased, but the moment it spilled a drop of innocent blood, Sebastian would end both of their lives.

Donning himself with a simple mask, leathers, and a maul the Spirit of Vengeance traveled to the Abyssal Chain, both of them hoping that maybe somewhere in the dark, they'd be able to find their true purpose.


The Custodian


Not all kingdoms of the Madren were so invested in warfare. One such Queen Baetha of the kingdom of Amalur, a smaller kingdom than many located on the Island of Tregal. The Queen herself however was noble, kind, fair and beloved by her people. The most notable thing about her was her eccentrics. She had an affinity for beauty such that her castle was open to those wishing to see unique art and statues, and the most unique aspect: Her personal guard.

Queen Baeta would hardly settle for simple castle guards. Much too boorish and unrefined, instead, she adopted as many orphan children as she could find, gave them her last name, and had them trained in many arts, such as Language, combat, basic sorcery, all with the best she could afford. The sorcery was strangely mundane, allowing them to perform basic tasks like setting torches alight or snuffing them out, heating or cooling food, and cleaning minor messes. The most notable form of magic was their ability to summon simple, ethereal tools. Primarily to help them in their duties, but also to ensure they were even more capable of defending themselves.

A child by the name of Sveta Baeta was among the adopted. Abandoned somewhere in the dark an an infant, she was found by the orphanage, and then adopted by the Queen at an early age. She too was trained in the many arts at the Queen's request. Sveta found a particular fondness for an axe that she would then use as her bonded weapon.

The Custodians were a beloved sight throughout the kingdom, where they often sent words directly from the queen acting as her messengers and ambassadors, and brought with them joy and beauty, often helping the neighboring towns and villages with whatever issues they faced. Their renown was great in the small kingdom they served. However, all good things must end, and the Queen's age began to render her ill and eventually, as all eventually do, she passed. The funeral was heart wrench as every living custodian attended and ensured their beloved queen received the burial she deserved.

There was much ado about who would take her place. She had not mentioned any relatives, but shortly after they received a letter by another woman claiming to be the queen. It had every seal they expected, and no one could prove that it was fake, so they reluctantly accepted her as the new queen. Queen Amelia. It was not long before Queen Amelia disbanded the Custodians for the crime of being much too expensive to maintain. Despite their aboslute loyalty to the crown, they were heartbroken, and as their final act of defiance, sealed the castle shut with her inside while taking their valuables. Some considered assassinating the queen, but as that is not what Queen Baeta would have wanted, they decided to separate and spread the ideals of Queen Baeta. Sveta made her way deeper into the Abyssal Chain, after all it was somewhere in the dark that needed light.

The first of those being a large, terrifying man with a wounded soul...
Last edited by The Republic of Atria on Wed Feb 16, 2022 8:01 pm, edited 7 times in total.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Tue Feb 15, 2022 11:28 am

Hey everyone, really grateful for the interest, hope to see you come up with some interesting stuff!

The Republic of Atria wrote:
The Spirit of Vengeance


Many harvests ago, the Madren were once nearly exterminated by monsters emerging from somewhere in the dark. The memories became legends and those legends created fear. Though now they are far superior in the art of combat and war, the fears that one ley the monsters may return with even greater ferocity. A small sect of the Madren more gifted in the realm of the Eldritch rituals, devoted themselves to creating warriors possessing even greater ferocity and strength than the beasts of old, but they needed to hone their craft first.

Thus started the story of Sebastian Y'dobon, a man as plain as the flour he used to bake bread in a bakery just as easily passed over by the many who frequented the small village of Kleensborough. Until one fateful afternoon when the village had some strange visitors who came to his bakery in search of meal. Sebastian obliged, and rather than leaving, they offered him a chance to help them as they were doing research. He knew little of the arcane, but they insisted that he needed simply to follow their instructions and would be paid well. Coin was coin, and anything that broke up the monotony of making bread day in and day out.

What he did not expect was to be taken and dragged somewhere in the dark, only awakening to find himself restrained and surrounded by many arcane symbols and runes. Before he could even begin to call out for help, he felt lightning raking over his body and his mind as something was forced into his mind, something dark and angry. His body twisted and warped, forcibly growing larger and larger. The metal cuffs that bound him shattered and he arose, now a beast of a man with strength to match.

Sebastian watched from his eyes actions that were not his. What had possessed him, a spirit or demon that never ceased it's screaming as it quite literally tore it's summoners to shreds, their magic faltering as it struck his body, and escaped into the woods. Days passed before Sebastain gained a modicum of control back, attempting to communicate with the spirit that was now puppeting his body and eating wild animals to sustain itself. Despite the days of intense running and hunting, only after days was the spirit weakened enough that he could exert slight control, steering the mad spirit away from the innocent and into the dens of bandits and ne'er do wells. It was then that Sebastian and the spirit came to a simple agreement: the spirit would be allowed to slay the deserving as much as it pleased, but the moment it spilled a drop of innocent blood, Sebastian would end both of their lives.

Donning himself with a simple mask, leathers, and a maul the Spirit of Vengeance traveled to the Abyssal Chain, both of them hoping that maybe somewhere in the dark, they'd be able to find their true purpose.


The Custodian


Not all kingdoms of the Madren were so invested in warfare. One such Queen Baetha of the kingdom of Amalur, a smaller kingdom than many. The Queen herself however was noble, kind, fair and beloved by her people. The most notable thing about her was her eccentrics. She had an affinity for beauty such that her castle was open to those wishing to see unique art and statues, and the most unique aspect: Her personal guard.

Queen Baeta would hardly settle for simple castle guards. Much too boorish and unrefined, instead, she adopted as many orphan children as she could find, gave them her last name, and had them trained in many arts, such as Language, combat, basic sorcery, all with the best she could afford. One such child was Sveta Baeta. Abadoned somewhere in the dark an an infant, she was found by the orphanage, and then adopted by the Queen at an early age. She too was trained in the many arts that the Queen request. Sveta found a particular fondness for an axe that she would then use for the remainder of her life.

The Custodians were a beloved sight throughout the kingdom, where they often sent words directly from the queen acting as her messengers and ambassadors, and brought with them joy and beauty. However, all good things must end, and the Queen's age began to render her ill and eventually, as all eventually do, she passed. The funeral was heart wrench as every living custodian attended and ensured their beloved queen received the burial she deserved.

There was much ado about who would take her place. She had not mentioned any relatives, but shortly after they received a letter by another woman claiming to be the queen. It had every seal they expected, and no one could prove that it was fake, so they reluctantly accepted her as the new queen. Queen Amelia. It was not long before Queen Amelia disbanded the Custodians for the crime of being much too expensive to maintain. Despite their aboslute loyalty to the crown, they were heartbroken, and as their final act of defiance, sealed the castle shut with her inside while taking their valuables. Some considered assassinating the queen, but as that is not what Queen Baeta would have wanted, they decided to separate and spread the ideals of Queen Baeta. Sveta making her way to the Abyssal Chain, after all it was somewhere in the dark that needed light.

The first of those being a large, terrifying man with a wounded soul...


Nice work Atria, glad to see you got into the spirit.

My only questions for these two is what abilities did you envision them having. From your pieces I can gather Sebastian has some manner of super strength and Sveta knows some Arcana in addition to her combat training, are they supposed to have anything else? And in Sveta's case what exactly does she know?

I'm assuming for these two the maul and the axe are their bonded weapons.
Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood roleplayer cat. If you need any help, send me a TG and I'll see what I can do!
P2TM Community Discussion Thread
Take a look at my latest roleplay! Come journey with us to somewhere in the dark.

User avatar
The Republic of Atria
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 24399
Founded: Nov 12, 2013
Capitalist Paradise

Postby The Republic of Atria » Tue Feb 15, 2022 11:35 am

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:Hey everyone, really grateful for the interest, hope to see you come up with some interesting stuff!

The Republic of Atria wrote:
The Spirit of Vengeance


Many harvests ago, the Madren were once nearly exterminated by monsters emerging from somewhere in the dark. The memories became legends and those legends created fear. Though now they are far superior in the art of combat and war, the fears that one ley the monsters may return with even greater ferocity. A small sect of the Madren more gifted in the realm of the Eldritch rituals, devoted themselves to creating warriors possessing even greater ferocity and strength than the beasts of old, but they needed to hone their craft first.

Thus started the story of Sebastian Y'dobon, a man as plain as the flour he used to bake bread in a bakery just as easily passed over by the many who frequented the small village of Kleensborough. Until one fateful afternoon when the village had some strange visitors who came to his bakery in search of meal. Sebastian obliged, and rather than leaving, they offered him a chance to help them as they were doing research. He knew little of the arcane, but they insisted that he needed simply to follow their instructions and would be paid well. Coin was coin, and anything that broke up the monotony of making bread day in and day out.

What he did not expect was to be taken and dragged somewhere in the dark, only awakening to find himself restrained and surrounded by many arcane symbols and runes. Before he could even begin to call out for help, he felt lightning raking over his body and his mind as something was forced into his mind, something dark and angry. His body twisted and warped, forcibly growing larger and larger. The metal cuffs that bound him shattered and he arose, now a beast of a man with strength to match.

Sebastian watched from his eyes actions that were not his. What had possessed him, a spirit or demon that never ceased it's screaming as it quite literally tore it's summoners to shreds, their magic faltering as it struck his body, and escaped into the woods. Days passed before Sebastain gained a modicum of control back, attempting to communicate with the spirit that was now puppeting his body and eating wild animals to sustain itself. Despite the days of intense running and hunting, only after days was the spirit weakened enough that he could exert slight control, steering the mad spirit away from the innocent and into the dens of bandits and ne'er do wells. It was then that Sebastian and the spirit came to a simple agreement: the spirit would be allowed to slay the deserving as much as it pleased, but the moment it spilled a drop of innocent blood, Sebastian would end both of their lives.

Donning himself with a simple mask, leathers, and a maul the Spirit of Vengeance traveled to the Abyssal Chain, both of them hoping that maybe somewhere in the dark, they'd be able to find their true purpose.


The Custodian


Not all kingdoms of the Madren were so invested in warfare. One such Queen Baetha of the kingdom of Amalur, a smaller kingdom than many. The Queen herself however was noble, kind, fair and beloved by her people. The most notable thing about her was her eccentrics. She had an affinity for beauty such that her castle was open to those wishing to see unique art and statues, and the most unique aspect: Her personal guard.

Queen Baeta would hardly settle for simple castle guards. Much too boorish and unrefined, instead, she adopted as many orphan children as she could find, gave them her last name, and had them trained in many arts, such as Language, combat, basic sorcery, all with the best she could afford. One such child was Sveta Baeta. Abadoned somewhere in the dark an an infant, she was found by the orphanage, and then adopted by the Queen at an early age. She too was trained in the many arts that the Queen request. Sveta found a particular fondness for an axe that she would then use for the remainder of her life.

The Custodians were a beloved sight throughout the kingdom, where they often sent words directly from the queen acting as her messengers and ambassadors, and brought with them joy and beauty. However, all good things must end, and the Queen's age began to render her ill and eventually, as all eventually do, she passed. The funeral was heart wrench as every living custodian attended and ensured their beloved queen received the burial she deserved.

There was much ado about who would take her place. She had not mentioned any relatives, but shortly after they received a letter by another woman claiming to be the queen. It had every seal they expected, and no one could prove that it was fake, so they reluctantly accepted her as the new queen. Queen Amelia. It was not long before Queen Amelia disbanded the Custodians for the crime of being much too expensive to maintain. Despite their aboslute loyalty to the crown, they were heartbroken, and as their final act of defiance, sealed the castle shut with her inside while taking their valuables. Some considered assassinating the queen, but as that is not what Queen Baeta would have wanted, they decided to separate and spread the ideals of Queen Baeta. Sveta making her way to the Abyssal Chain, after all it was somewhere in the dark that needed light.

The first of those being a large, terrifying man with a wounded soul...


Nice work Atria, glad to see you got into the spirit.

My only questions for these two is what abilities did you envision them having. From your pieces I can gather Sebastian has some manner of super strength and Sveta knows some Arcana in addition to her combat training, are they supposed to have anything else? And in Sveta's case what exactly does she know?

I'm assuming for these two the maul and the axe are their bonded weapons.


For the weapons, yes.

Sebastian's got enhanced strength, heals quick, and is somewhat resistant to magical attacks.

Sveta's magic is mostly just minor utility things, starting/snuffing fire, increasing/decreasing the temperature of things, usually food, and some minor illusion stuff like making a small sound or visual effect. Basically Prestidigitation and Thaumaturgy from DnD. Nothing really meant for combat, just flavor/utility.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Tue Feb 15, 2022 11:36 am

Alright, that works. Accepted.
Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood roleplayer cat. If you need any help, send me a TG and I'll see what I can do!
P2TM Community Discussion Thread
Take a look at my latest roleplay! Come journey with us to somewhere in the dark.

User avatar
Finland SSR
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 15224
Founded: May 17, 2014
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Finland SSR » Tue Feb 15, 2022 1:46 pm

The Nomad


When the dwellers of the surface of the Abyssal Chain descend to the depths of the caverns which connect their isles, they travel in fear of many things. You can never know what terrifying creature may be lurking somewhere in the dark, intent to ensure that you will never see your next harvest. Not all horrors that follow adventurers, miners and explorers come in the form of monsters, however.

The trickster and vagabond Shayit, who have made the depths of the Abyssal Chain their home, do not always work alone, even if does not appear like they have an affinity for civilization. The Tughlat are a tribe of Shayit who are bound by common blood and lineage and travel across the caverns, always settling to another home tomorrow. Through the ruins of civilizations and caves that stretch for miles, these tribesmen travel, one with the land that they have made their home, and making a hardy living from the boons that the caverns offer. The numerous fungi and occasional coldlight plants complete a diet with the numerous monsters they find and hunt along their way. It is never enough, however, neither to satisfy hunger, nor the everpresent need to wreak havoc and embroil in trickery.

Thankfully, the growing civilizations of the surface cannot stop to be allured by the riches and boons of their homes in the cavern, and so always give the Tughlat one more source of wealth, bounty and amusement. When the miners of the Dvarda or the explorers of Menai and Madren descend down to the depths, always wary of monsters somewhere in the dark, Raggar of Tughlat is one of those who shows the poor surface-dwellers exactly why they should fear that unknown. Much like the rest of their kind, the Tughlat are trained in the art of mirage, and while their prey cower at the sight of illusionary horrors, their wares are stolen, their lights destroyed and they themselves kidnapped. Few have lived to tell the tale of what happens to those who stand at the end of a Shayit nomad blade.

Raggar has seen twenty-five harvests and has been a nomad warrior for ten of them - and after displaying his talent for raiding and trickery, the rather young Shay began dreaming of more. Once in dozens of harvests, a child of the Tughlat finds themselves wandering the surface, whether because he was expelled by his kin or because he wants to prove himself in the eyes of the world, and return home with riches and stories to tell. Raggar fell among the second - and after saying goodbye to his family and his blade-brothers, he set out from his tribe, wandering alone for several blanks, searching for a cause to serve and an adventure to experience.
I have a severe case of addiction to writing. At least 3k words every day is my fix.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Tue Feb 15, 2022 2:29 pm

Finland SSR wrote:---


Looks good Fin. Just a guy with a sword and his race's gift, I take it?
Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood roleplayer cat. If you need any help, send me a TG and I'll see what I can do!
P2TM Community Discussion Thread
Take a look at my latest roleplay! Come journey with us to somewhere in the dark.

User avatar
Finland SSR
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 15224
Founded: May 17, 2014
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Finland SSR » Tue Feb 15, 2022 3:25 pm

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:
Finland SSR wrote:---


Looks good Fin. Just a guy with a sword and his race's gift, I take it?

Yeah, pretty much, and the clothes in the pic.
I have a severe case of addiction to writing. At least 3k words every day is my fix.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Tue Feb 15, 2022 3:46 pm

Finland SSR wrote:
Zarkenis Ultima wrote:
Looks good Fin. Just a guy with a sword and his race's gift, I take it?

Yeah, pretty much, and the clothes in the pic.


'Kay, seems good then. Accepted.
Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood roleplayer cat. If you need any help, send me a TG and I'll see what I can do!
P2TM Community Discussion Thread
Take a look at my latest roleplay! Come journey with us to somewhere in the dark.

User avatar
Absolon-7
Diplomat
 
Posts: 928
Founded: May 11, 2014
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Absolon-7 » Tue Feb 15, 2022 5:31 pm

Image

The Forlorn Sentinel

“Like rock or stone, it is o’ergrown,
With lichens to the very top,
And hung with heavy tufts of moss,
A melancholy crop:
Up from the earth these mosses creep,
And this poor Thorn they clasp it round
So close, you’d say that they are bent
With plain and manifest intent
To drag it to the ground;
And all have joined in one endeavour
To bury this poor Thorn for ever.”


In ancient times when the Sylven were merely another race in the underworld and through their journey in the tunnels leading to the archipelago their first and last line of defense were the Spinose, a breed of Sylven meant purely for warfare and combat. They defended the greater society from the horrors of the underworld and the aggression of the other races. When the Sylven created their first underground forests in the Coldlight Archipelago it was the Spinose who stood their ground against the new dangers of the land. When the Sylven were first venturing to the surface it was the Spinose that formed the vanguard to ensure their safety. However, as the Sylven began tending to the inhospitable landscape nurturing its forests into flourishing verdant tides the Spinose saw their slow decline into obscurity and more so when the secrets of manipulating the plants and animals of the isles were discovered by the Sylven. Now in the present, the primary duty of the Spinose is to guard the fringes of the underground forests as the control of the underworld remains out of bounds even for them with the ultimate fate of the Spinose somewhere in the dark.

Artorius was the first Spinose of his generation, the first batch of Spinose planted in several harvests in fact, as such they were given special accommodation in an Ovary Grotto, a specific enclave in Sylven Gardens where all seedlings are planted by their parents for their first harvest cycle before they can uproot themselves from the ground. However, the violent reputation of the Spinose has long tainted the common view of them where even the greenskeepers of the ovary were careful to not dote too much on the Spinose young. When it was his time to uproot, Artorius’ parents were already waiting for him to take him back to their Spinose battalion in the underground. Though tender the early years where, it wasn't long before his father was lost in a rock avalanche in the depths of the underworld during a doomed expedition and his mother subsumed by a fungal monster that had invaded their tunnels when an renegade Sylf sabotaged a crucial line of defense. Now alone in the world Artorius dedicated his life to the blade hoping to one day slay the monster that gorged itself on his mother. In his anger he quickly rose to the top of the younger Spinose generation's sparring ranks before repeatedly being humbled by older warriors when challenging them. In his twentieth harvest he made a pilgrimage to the Illumina Forest and then to Arboris hoping for some answer to his anger but instead he found himself realizing how his anger had made him far more alone in the world then he had imagined. Perhaps the answer to his longing could be found somewhere in the dark of his mind.

Like a rotting oak hollowed out of life, Artorius casted himself to a life of nothing but protecting the Sylven as the Spinose were meant to do from their planting. Eventually his skill in the blade led him to earning the respect of his elders after finally being able to best some of them in single combat but the emptiness remained. One fateful ley, a titanic worm attacking an underground Garden was felled by his blade but to his astonishment it seemed infected with the same fungus of the monster that slew his mother; shortly afterwards the renegade Sylf showed himself once again, challenging Artorius to a duel. Artorius was brutally defeated and left for dead before the killer departed again for parts unknown. A cold and silent anger flashed inside him prompting him to leave his home Garden and to travel the archipelago in pursuit of the murderer where over many, many harvests he would test his blade against a variety of foes to gain the skill to once again challenge his mother's killer. After nearly forty harvests of time his spirit has become wearier and emptier as his fire for vengeance slowly simmers with his final destination somewhere in the dark.
Last edited by Absolon-7 on Wed Feb 16, 2022 11:24 pm, edited 4 times in total.

User avatar
Zarkenis Ultima
Post Czar
 
Posts: 43286
Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Tue Feb 15, 2022 6:01 pm

Looks good Abs. What did you envision Artorius being able to do?
Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood roleplayer cat. If you need any help, send me a TG and I'll see what I can do!
P2TM Community Discussion Thread
Take a look at my latest roleplay! Come journey with us to somewhere in the dark.

User avatar
Indo-pasif archipelago
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1261
Founded: Jan 12, 2013
Democratic Socialists

Postby Indo-pasif archipelago » Wed Feb 16, 2022 11:23 am

The Howler In The Night

Image

Snow fell upon the mountainside.

There was no sound upon the deep, but for the crackles of ember desperately trying to burn against the howling wind. Cold seeped throughout the barren road. The deep fog of The Blanketing started to descend downhill. There was nobody, nothing, no one, anywhere near the desolate mountain.

Somewhere in the dark, shadows stirred.

Maka knew that he should not have travelled during the Tenth Blanks. His people lived across the mountain. Its treacherous slope acts as their natural fortress, protecting them from the rest of Tregal. But this also meant isolation, for every Tenth Blank of the harvest, strong wind swept the already perilous mountain, and no sane man would walk through it during the blizzard.

Maka was not exactly insane, but desperate times beget desperate measures. A vile plague had befallen upon his town. It had turned peaceful Vilden into delirious rage, attacking anyone arounds them before they started attacking themselves. Those that survive their own attempt in self harm would soon die in their shackle, confused and furious, out of their own mind. Those who survived the encounter with the Ravages would go febrile within a few days before madness descended upon them, and the cycle started anew. As the disease spread, Maka decided that he would not die from the disease and set out to leave the town along with his pack of friends.

They knew that walking through the mountain at this time of a Harvest would have been suicidal, but they decided that death by Mother Nature would be a grace compared to the plague. They set out their journey, glad and confident that they would be out of the town. They had not walked farther than two leagues out of the city when disaster struck.

The strong wind that swept the mountainside soon turned into a full blown blizzard. Tugging slower and slower, Maka tried his best to walk haphazardly even as the rushing snow blind his eyes. Their hands tried to hold each other as tightly as possible while their paws tried to grip the slippery slope. As The Blanketing drew nearer, they knew that they would not be able to see anything once the thick fog settles. But they did not have to wait. One wrong step. It was all it needed. And the group found themselves tumbling and crashing into a ravine.

Somewhere in the dark, Maka woke up and found how screwed they were.

They were stuck, by all means. The muddy walls of the ravine meant that even with their claws, there would be no luck trying to escape. Above them were hanging snows and ice, ready to fall and bury them whenever they became desperate enough to use their beastly gift.

And so Maka found himself trapped. Storm came and went, but nobody came to their aid. Within two leys they have run out of sticks to burn. In a week, they have run out of food. To make matters worse, one of them turned out had contracted the sickness they tried very hard to escape from.

While the disease had not gotten its time to turn his friend insane, he had put them out of their misery. But he was still stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no food nor heat. What he did was cold, but necessary. What he did next was somewhere between brutal and recklessly stupid. With his hunger growing on him, he chose to butcher the very same friend he had killed out of an attempt in survival.

Somewhere in the dark, the night howled, and the night wept.
Image

What happened after his damned meal was a blur. He remembered rage. He remembered hunger. He remembered the taste of blood and the smell of flesh. He remembered the beast within him hunted and maimed and feasted. He remembered regret.

How many lays had passed when Maka woke up from his feverish rage, he could not remember. But he understood what happened. The moment he finished his foul supper, he had damned himself to a dark fate.

He returned to his town, only to find it desolate and empty. He walked for leagues to find another town, and discovered to his horror that he had accidentally become a terror for passing travelers through the mountain for many Blankets. Wendigo, they called his beastly persona, a mythical monster of insatiable hunger from their stories of old.

Perhaps the very act of cannibalism had awakened something inside him. A force even more primal and savage than what the Law of Howlings had given him. Or perhaps it was something to do with the plague, a twisted side effect as he contracted it through feeding on his own comrade’s corpse.

Maka did not know the answer. What he did know, is that he had to find a cure, lest his stupor give rise to the foul Wendigo once more. And so he travelled the Abyssal Chain, looking for answers to his questions.

Somewhere in the dark, the Wendigo howled. It had its hunting spree, now it slumbers, waiting for the perfect time to feast.
Last edited by Indo-pasif archipelago on Thu Feb 17, 2022 1:25 am, edited 2 times in total.
I picked the Anarchist Hog

User avatar
Galnius
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17515
Founded: May 15, 2013
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Galnius » Wed Feb 16, 2022 12:02 pm

I'm weak. Weeeaaaak. Begins working on an app
I've read your Sig! I've read your soul

Before you complain, remember, Kangaroos can't hop backwards. Really makes your problems seem small don't it.

Next

Advertisement

Remove ads

Return to Portal to the Multiverse

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Finsternia, Majestic-12 [Bot], Novas Arcanum

Advertisement

Remove ads