ᴀccording to the holy book of the people of Senos, the Aleid: before time began the gods went to war to cast down the eldest of them who, through his emergence, came the universe. He, who is Chaos, fell beneath their hands to be banished to the dark places and imprisoned beyond time and reality itself within the nothingness he had first stepped forth from. Now wielding power, the Realms of reality came to be and over them they ruled. Their gift to mankind and their blessing upon them would grow from the earth and burn with power. Only mankind could touch them for any other creature would be repelled by this gift from the gods. From these, the god crystals, would come magic for it fed from the great reservoirs of the gods. With these mankind would create the greatest civilization that had ever been: cities soared towards the heavens with their alabaster faces shining in Morund's warming light; roads were paved and cut through the wilderness to conquer and tame it; great ships conquered the waters where simple wind could not power them. The population exploded with surplus of food, the easing of ailments and the healing of diseases. The population would spread across the face of the world bringing their knowledge, culture, and arts with them. Nothing could stand in their way, not as the powers of the god crystals were their's to wield. All that was required was for them to lay their hands upon them and call upon them for their desires. Any crystals that ran dry were replaced thoughtlessly from the seemingly endless reserves from the earth. The quarries flowed freely.
Yet at the pinnacle of humanity's power, alarm spread through the people: quarries were beginning to run dry. How could they survive without the power that fueled their very lives? Distress and fear turned to unrest, conflict, and bloodshed. But the gods would choose from among men the greatest, those whose blood was noble and sang through the layers of the world. These would be lords over the seven remaining quarries, the deepest of them all. All would be given the crystals if they served these lords who would become their kings as graced by the gods. But their powers could not be used so freely. The god crystals were precious and mankind had forgotten what they truly meant. They were to honor the gods, not to forget and use them frivolously for their own pleasure. Now the crystals were elevated to the place they should always have been. They were tools of the mighty and to be revered not as possessions to be used but blessings they were to respect. The kings gained power over the lives of the people and laid the law of how and when the god crystals would be used. Each person would be given a sliver of a god crystal upon their birth that they would wear about their neck. Each family would have one within their home and institutions graced by the kings would own one even larger to be used for the good of the people. The largest would be given to cities for the people of that city...
┈
The kingdom of Senos, the kingdom of man, is ruled by seven kings. While equal in power, each would seek dominance over the rest as generations passed through their lines. They would search for this dominance through skill, cunning, military might, and political ruthlessness. As the crystals grew scarcer, conflict escalated but would never turn to civil war. The kings, rather, turned against each other but never directly, always seeking a way to overcome the others and wrest from them their quarries. To the kings flocked the people they had historically ruled over, factions dispersed amongst each other and distinguished only by their loyalty. The lines between these factions had once been gray and difficult to discern but grow darker as time passes onwards and unrest boils beneath the surface. The unity seen by the people is only an illusion. Each king has a vassal that sits on council in the capital city of Senos ai Kelsamas. This was supposed to be the true governing body of the land: the ones who made the laws, settled disputes, kept the nation running. Each vassal was subject to his king and would be his voice. They are mere figureheads, the only glue holding the nation together and it was an illusion. They are held responsible to their king and should they fail in this would be replaced upon his untimely death.
The land is tense, ready at any moment to erupt into true civil war. The kings stand ready with their armies able to mobilize upon command. Conflict boils in the cities and in the countryside and amidst the tension erupts an event that would send the world teetering.
The Red King is assassinated and no one knows who was behind it. The Silver King, however, claims responsibility and seizes the quarry of the Red King. Taking upon his own shoulders the mantle of the Red King, he claims for himself the loyalty of the people the Red King had once been lord over. Fury rises in the people whose king had been torn from them and rebel with the intention of dethroning him; having no fear of the gods whose power was in his blood. He reacted quickly, his armies squashing the rebellion and beginning to slaughter those who continued to resist or were responsible for it. The people submitted before him yet those he sees as his enemies he continues to slaughter as well as those he sees as the greatest threat to his power. That also means cleaning out those most closely in confidence to the Red King. The kings of White, Blue, Gold, Black, and Green make no move to prevent this slaughter yet are also furious for what he has done: the seizing of Red's power and now putting himself above them. They respond in kind, mobilizing their armies. Civil war looms like the great god of war himself.
Yet amidst it all is one man who once served the Red King, a close confident in spite of a crippling disability that would have otherwise meant his banishment or even death: he was one who was magicless. The crystals would never answer to him and would, in turn, repel him instead. He was one forsaken by the gods. He flees the slaughter of the Silver King with one intention in mind: to find the heir of Red who had vanished and protect him from the kings who also knew of his existence. Especially Silver who would have already sent out his soldiers to hunt him down and end his life. Thus removing him as a threat to his power. Alone, he travels forward to find the heir. Not just to remove Silver from the throne that did not belong to him but because he knew there was only one way to stop the violence: they needed a leader, a king who could stand above the other kings. Only one of royal blood could do such a thing, a chosen of the gods. Even though he was only a boy, the heir of Red was the only one he knew who could do such a thing because of his lineage.
He searches out those like him. The outcasted and hated, those who also cannot activate the god crystals and are repelled by them. These are the mages who hide or roam to escape the persecution they face because of the people. Those who have to hide who they are or hide themselves to escape. Now they will be given a purpose and he would lead them: to end conflict and bring to power someone they hope that could change the world as it was.
With enemies hot on their trail, time is running out. But the kings may be the least of their worries as the gods once more bend low to touch the earth. Old powers awaken and they may be the center of a new threat: the awakening of the Aspect of Chaos. He who is magicless may not be simply someone who cannot touch the god crystals and use them but the very opposite of magic itself. As strange things begin to happen around him, it may just be that he is the one the Aspect of Chaos, Statai, wants so he can return to the world. The world is spiraling towards chaos and the only ones standing in the way is a small band of outcasted mages and a boy.
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Info . Plot . Rules . Positions . Journal of Strelim Kitrold . Characters/Profile Skeleton . Setting . Extra
「 KINDNESS 」 xxxxxxxxxxh a v e x i t x w i t h x e a c h x o t h e r
Everyone came here to have fun and because they really want to do this roleplay. Don't leave anyone out or be cruel to them. No dramatics, please. So, if I determine you are being cruel to anyone through name calling, ignoring, trolling, etc., I will kick you out. No one has the right to be mean to anyone for any reason. Disagreements may arise but everyone must learn to treat everyone with respect in spite of that. Treat everyone with respect even if you don't get along and for anyone who decides they won't follow this rule, you are gone. Period. I won't stand for someone hurting someone else.
「 ROMANCE 」 xxxxxxxxxxb u t x d o n ' t x g o x o v e r b o a r d
If you get anywhere close to cybering, time skip. I don't think anyone wants to read it so don't bring it here. ToS. It cannot go anywhere near cybering. Just because he isn't putting it in doesn't mean it is alright. I know you are all very smart. It goes both ways, though. Don't complain about everyone, yeah? Especially if it is just because you don't have a significant other of your own.
「 PARTICIPATE 」 xxxxxxxxxxw h e r e x w o u l d x w e x b e x w i t h o u t x i t
If you say you want to join and make a profile then do something! If you have to go somewhere or can no longer play, please tell us and do something with your character that when they are gone it won't cripple us. Even if that means we get to kill them. This is extremely important. Given enough time with absolutely no word from you, we will likely leave your character behind. I really do not want this to happen. A roleplay is only as good as its roleplayers.
「 GOD-MODDING 」 xxxxxxxxxxk e e p x i t x r e a l i s t i c
You cannot control someone else's character in any way, shape, or form, unless they give you explicit permission. And you are also not perfect and/or all powerful. Everyone has their own faults and failings along with things they can not do. Each magic has its limitations and none are all powerful. Remember them so everything is more or less uniform and no one is god above the others. I set up the magical descriptions for this reason. That also means no auto-hitting. You must know your position - but you still cannot force someone else's character to do something they do not want. You are not god over another roleplayer. Trust me, if I think your character is a Mary-Sue you will hear about it. Not because it is annoys me (which it does) but I am 100% certain it will annoy everyone else just as much. Drop-dead gorgeous? We have all heard that very often. Able to kick butt with his eyes closed and one arm tied behind his back without getting a drop of blood on his clothes? Dear god, are you human?
「 LITERACY 」 xxxxxxxxxxf o r x t h e x l o v e x o f x G o d x k n o w x E n g l i s h
That means using proper grammar in all its shapes and forms (punctuation, proper sentence/paragraph structure, good spelling, etc.) and can write a reasonable amount of work in comparison to what you are writing about and what others are writing. I am not going to go through and count your words. I don't care if you are writing less than everyone else if you can add to the plot as much as everyone else. Too much can be exceedingly tedious as much as too little can just be frustrating. Be sure you understand this concept. Length does not equal quality but it sure should compliment the writing whatever length it is! Do not use ** -- or variants of them.
「 PROFILES 」 xxxxxxxxxxs e n d x t h e m x t o x m e
So I know you've read all these rules, title your reserve your desired position and profiles the desired position plus their age. I must know you read the rules! To fill out that reserve, do exactly as I tell you to do. I don't need an example because that doesn't really always show your skill at writing. I want to see how well you can play that role you want. It doesn't have to be long, at least a paragraph. If there is more than one person, it is not first come first serve (that is just mean, in my opinion) but who is more suited to the position. I think that is fair enough and fair to the other roleplayers. So you must fill out a reserve. I will lean an ear towards those who say they are making a reserve and ask if I can hold a spot. But only for so long, of course. So if something says reserved rather than taken, you can take the risk if you really want but I won't let you have it until both parties are aware of the situation. Not that I like those situations. They make me nervous. I still want it to be fair, though. I have always hated losing a spot because I wasn't quick enough or I had to be somewhere I couldn't control.
「 MISC. 」 xxxxxxxxxxm o r e x w i l l x c o m e
I will add more rules when needed. If I need anything, if something pops up along the way, or something is brought up to me by someone. And, just enjoy this you guys! I don't want trouble. I hate trouble. I just want to roleplay and make friends!
xx
Info . Plot . Rules . Positions . Journal of Strelim Kitrold . Characters/Profile Skeleton . Setting . Extra
「 RESERVE&&PROFILE SKELETONS 」 xxxxxxxxxxy e s x y o u x m u s t x d o x t h e m
I will make it very clear here that I am an open resource to you. I want to make sure nothing is too confusing and that we are all on the
same page. As you read in the rules, the reserve is very important. It is not yours 100% until a profile is made, for reasons I also
mentioned in the rules. I put instructions under each section so if you have any questions, feel free to ask me.
ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ
Copy paste character description
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: Copy paste information ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: Copy paste information ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: Copy paste information
your username here :: reserved
Okay, what goes right here is very important. It can be any length at all but at least a paragraph so knock yourself out. Whatever you think will be long enough to do what is asked for. Since I mentioned this briefly in the rules, I won't go over it all again. This is going to be your sample and proof you know exactly what your character is. Remember, I am here to help you with this one so come and ask me questions. What you send here isn't set in stone so you can always fix it if I give you pointers/ideas/etc. Have fun fleshing out and interpreting what this magic means but be sure to remain within the boundaries of strengths and weaknesses. Those are definitely there for a reason.
So what exactly goes here? You are going to be writing as your character as you would be in the roleplay. But not just anything, I want you to have your character using their magic in your sample here. Show me how they use their magic by how you interrupt what I had written about it. You can use anything, within reason, to express what is going on. From their history with their power to the consequences of using this power of theirs. It doesn't have to be anything huge. It could be one paragraph! It is also to help you get a feel for your character.
Example:
The beat of his heart was no longer steady, his skin burning as hot as coals. As her hand brushed over his clammy forehead, his eyes rolled restlessly behind his lids, breath rough and unsteady through parted lips. The fever was growing steadily higher and nothing she nor the physicians could do would stop it. He was not the first, he was the second. In his attempt to aid his brother-at-arms he now burned with fever. If only it was not so. Her jaw clenched and she lifted a cold rag to press it to his forehead. There was nothing else she could do to stop the fever. The magic wasn't responding to her either, not for this. Her suspicions had spiked with the fever symptom. His majesty had to know.
"Lady Wildmage!" Laen turned sharply, head snapping up in the direction of the voice who called her. After that, no more words were needed in explanation.
"Keep him cool," she ordered. "If he can still swallow, he needs to be hydrated. Put ground inetane Root in in the water." The woman nodded and turned away to do as she was told. Thus, the wildmage moved across the floor to the other side of the room, a place quarantined from the rest of the room. She brushed the fabric aside and slipped inside, grabbing a mask to cover her face like the rest of them. "Lyerilpol will need to be quarantined as well. The symptoms match. He may no longer be contagious, either of them, but I do not want to risk it." She slid to the side of the bed, one of the physicians leaving to ensure her words were taken care to. Her lips pulled into a frown beneath the mask, her brow tightening. The discoloring in his skin had begun to swell. Before she had thought them to be bruises but the violet patches were sores that swelled into pouches of puss... if that was what it was. The scout was tied down to the bed, wounds from his struggle only scabbed over, some burst from further struggle: his fits the prior day when he first appeared before them were beginning to pass. But with that calming came the appearance of sores, and his skin as cold as ice. They were growing larger, one could almost see them growing. And upon seeing them, fear clutched at her heart. She knew what this was. She could see it in the eyes of the other healers. He would die, they all knew he would die.
"Send word to the king," she whispered, keeping her voice steady, unwilling to let it shake. She would not allow them to see her fear. Instead, she opened the pouch at her hip, hand digging in to grab a piece of chalk gifted to her from the others in just one of the many signs of friendship. None of them could doubt what she was doing, not as they backed up, allowing her to draw the circle around the entire bed, the ends connecting. She straightened, dropping it back in her pouch as she moved over to the ailing man. Her jaw tightened and she pulled out her knife and tugged a piece of hair from her head. She dropped it in the bowl next to her and lifted it. Only then did she add the rest of the ingredients. Herbs and plants were in abundance within the infirmary. The more complicated the spell, the more was needed - usually. Only the most simple of spells did not need such things. Instead, she put the filled bowl onto the foot of the bed and stopped before it. The room went silent except for the sound of his labored breathing, and the motions of the others on the other side of the barrier. She lit the contents of the bowl on fire.
Thus, she lifted the knife and sliced open her palm, allowing the blood to well up and spill over her skin. As it hit the flame, it sizzled, turning the color from golden-red to deep green edged in pure blues. Twisting the knife in her hand, she gripped the keystone at her neck that was always hung by a chain. She drew energy from it, drawing to mind what she desired to have. Fire. The energy from the keystone flooded into her. She would need to refill the keystone, it would soon be empty of her energy. And in that moment the shimmering barrier formed above the center of the Circle and spread outwards to meet it: completely covering her and the bed within it. It was like a flood of light, a shimmering in the air as if a mirage in great heat. And in that moment she felt the Presence descend on her shoulders, the presence of the Elemental about her. Her eyes closed, allowing to form into her mind what she desired. She could not draw him from death... it would kill her, she knew it. All she could do was one thing: alleviate his suffering and in turn she would pay the price for it. She could feel the recognition of the Elemental, it would accept it. And thus, she felt the pressure heighten, heavy upon her mind, heavy upon her shoulders. She had to pay the Price eventually if not soon.
The power flooded through her veins, recognizing that no energy to cast the spell would come from her but the Elemental alone. She moved, allowing the Magic to guide her. She put her hand against his brow and though nothing appeared to happen, she could suddenly feel his entirety before her. His eyes moved restlessly beneath the lids before they opened then closed again. The glowing warmth radiated from her hands though was invisible to the eyes. His breathing calmed but only for a moment as his tight body relaxed. Then, suddenly, he jerked, hands tightening with a terrible shudder through his body. She immediately cut contact from him and the Elemental, recoiling lest his death be on her hands.
She could feel the weight leaving her shoulders, but not the weight of the Price she had to pay.
"Lady wildmage?"
She closed her eyes. "Dispose of the body. He cannot receive funeral rights. The body needs to be destroyed so the disease cannot spread." She knew how terrible a thing it was... to deny him his last rights... what they believed would allow them into the afterlife. But if that were to happen, the disease could spread. It was a choice she had to make and that choice they would follow even if it was something they refused to accept. She dried the knife of her blood and wrapped her palm in a clean linen so it would stop bleeding. Another scar to add to her collection. Another wound that would never heal.
[b]sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs[/b]: Copy paste information
[b]ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs[/b]: Copy paste information
[b]ᴜsᴀɢᴇ[/b]: Copy paste information
[spoiler][i]your username here[/i] :: reserved
blurb here[/size][/spoiler]
or
The [POSITION HERE]xxFIRST MIDDLE LAST NAME
「xᴀɢᴇx」⇢ xxx your age here 「xɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀx」⇢ xxx your gender here 「xsᴘᴇᴄɪᴇsx」⇢ xxx no "half-breeds". Everyone is human unless another important position. Only humans can use magic unless they are a deity! 「xᴛʀᴀɪᴛsx」⇢ xxx any traits, piercings, markings, handicaps, etc. you think are important to mention about their body that cannot be seen in their picture
「xᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ(s)x」⇢ xxx your choice of weapon(s). (keep it to the era: swords, axes, maces, etc. pick only one or two.) 「xᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏx」⇢ xxx besides their magic, is there any other abilities they have? skills they had to learn to be able to use their abilities? 「xᴇxᴛʀᴀx」⇢ xxx anything missed or extra here
[IMG]picture here 600 x 200[/IMG]
or
[IMGleft]picture here 200 x 600[/IMGleft][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=18]The [POSITION HERE][/size][color=white]xx[/color][size=24][color=black]FIRST MIDDLE LAST NAME[/color][/size]
[list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]ᴀɢᴇ[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] your age here[/size]
[size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] your gender here[/size]
[size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] no "half-breeds". Everyone is human unless another important position. Only humans can use magic unless they are a deity![/size]
[size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] any traits, piercings, markings, handicaps, etc. you think are important to mention about their body that cannot be seen in their picture[/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]
[list][list][color=white]xl[/color][size=9]▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀[/size]
[list][size=11][color=black]character's history here[/color][/size]
[size=9]▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀[/size]
[list][list][list]
[size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ(s)[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] your choice of weapon(s). (keep it to the era: swords, axes, maces, etc. pick only one or two.)[/size]
[size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] besides their magic, is there any other abilities they have? skills they had to learn to be able to use their abilities?
[size=11]「[color=white]x[/color][color=black]ᴇxᴛʀᴀ[/color][color=white]x[/color]」⇢ [color=white]xxx[/color] anything missed or extra here[/size][/size][/list][/list][/list]
[size=9]▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀[/size]
「 POSITIONS 」 xxxxxxxxxxt o x h a v e x s o m e o n e x t o x p l a y
Remember! Anything not mentioned for each mage is either something they cannot do or must learn for themselves and is not a
perk of their magic type. Each also came upon their magic at various times in their life. Everyone is also 100% human. Only humans can
use magic. To reserve a spot, look to the Characters/Profile Skeleton post to fill out a reserve. If that post has yet to exist, PM me for
further details because this is still under construction.
No Photographs.
Anime pictures are alright if they are not like this or this.
Or should I say "really anime". Something like this or this is okay.
The picture must be at least somewhat period accurate. No jeans, cigarettes, modern technology, etc.
Main Positions
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄʟᴇss ᴏɴᴇ
The Leader
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: Despite her magicless nature, she is very good at combat. She is very capable with a sword and shield, having trained as a knight. She also has some competence with daggers, spears and pole arms. Used to wearing full armor, she has high endurance. Her training often had her in motion without stop for several hours at a time. Having trained with those with magic, she has learned to be agile on her feet. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Magicless is magicless. She does not have the ability to use magic and greatly dislikes being around the god crystals. Tactical decisions are not her strong suit, despite understanding both the concept and the importance of them. She lacks tact in her words and can easily offend without taking notice. She is not very detail oriented unless she is checking a person for a weapon or searching her surroundings for a makeshift weapon.
Maybry :: Taken
Sweat dripped down her brow as she stared at her father. The false wooden sword in her hand was heavy. Or, at least heavier than the half-full buckets of chicken feed that she was used to carrying. Thankfully her blonde hair was pulled out of the way in a messy bun. Otherwise it would have just made her hotter, or gotten in the way.
She cocked her head to the side, watching him. There was no way she could win, and she knew that. But despite the advantage being her father's she lunged at him anyway, her over-large wooden sword doing nothing she wanted it to as she flung it over her head to slash at him. Her father quickly side stepped, a chuckle falling out of him. As Aaren passed him, he swung his own wooden sword. The flat of it tapped her on the bum, not hard enough to hurt but it was enough to cast her out of the game. Well, it wasn't really much of a game. Training would have been the better term for what it was exactly they were doing. With her mother distracted with her new sister and Cathryn being a total brat, Aaren preferred the company of her father. He treated her like she could do anything even though she knew he was disappointed with her inability to use the god crystal's magic.
She had been disappointed too, actually. Not that she would admit it, though her mother and father seemed to know anyway. Her father probably didn't know though, since he was barely ever home. He was busy being a knight, he didn't have time to notice how unhappy it made her. But who needed those god crystals anyway? She didn't even like being around the family shard if she didn't have to.
The ten year old grunted, frustrated that she couldn't win against her father. Even if she knew the reason was because he actually knew what he was doing, she didn't have to like it. And she didn't. Actually it was extremely annoying. She gave a flustered hrumph before spinning back at her father. She widened her legs, knees bent. Her face was set into an unhappy pout as she gripped the handle of the too-large sword with both hands. The false blade pointed skyward. Her father turned slowly, an amused look on his face. Damn him for looking amused. This wasn't amusing at all. Letting out a sharp yell, she charged at him. Even knowing she was going to fail she didn't falter.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴀɢᴇ
The Warrior Mage
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: A Knight Mage's magic exists near fully within the body to give him/her instinctive mastery in strategy, combat, the ability to sense danger, (limited) prediction in relation to war/combat, ability to draw memories of bloodshed from the land, and battle-sight which allows for him/her to see where the enemy will attack and where to attack for best results. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Knight Mage has little and near non-existent magical ability and cannot cast spells. Continual and excessive use of his/her abilities is draining and can ultimately lead to madness and going berserk. S/He also are always haunted by the dead and requires forgiveness of the enemy or risk being consumed by the death s/he has made. The spirits of those s/he has killed will remain with him/her until s/he forgives the one s/he has killed and the spirit has also given forgiveness to him/her. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: The Knight Mage cannot cast spells and his/her ability is instinctive. The only abilities that require 'summoning' is battle sight and drawing memory of bloodshed from the land (which also can happen unbidden). The rest either simply happen unbidden, are instinctively known, or are constantly present. Sometimes they can be called upon.
phantomhoofbeats :: taken
He had not always been able to see it but it had always been in his veins. It burned hot, his blood, and the voices always whispered in his ear. They were not audible, not even now, but they were voices all the same that spoke to him without words or thoughts. He could feel them through the soles of his feet in the land no matter how far he traveled. They whispered with his tattered and old garments and laughed. Now they were around him, sometimes silent at other times their voices clear in his ear so he could hear their voices. But they were always there. They were his guilt and burden and not even time could erase it. A cruel punishment from the gods, he supposed, for the hot blood that was in his veins. He was born for this world and he did not know what he would be if the conflict ended. Yet he could always feel it. It left a metallic taste on his tongue. It pounded in his head from a distance and was always there. At others the dagger was twisted in his skull. It wouldn't let him resist his nature. Magic was in his blood and it was cruel master. Perhaps it should have been a blessing. It sang yet the sweet sound drove him mad. It would always test his sanity and he could never leave the dead behind. Few could turn to the one who had slain them and offer forgiveness to him. Yes, he was the toy of the firebrand and the unyielding one.
He faltered for only a moment before he stopped and cocked his head to the side. His eyes were shadowed by the hood that covered his face but they were bright and intense. He could not see it but it was there. That metallic taste on his tongue that made him wet his lips and shift his stance from one foot to the other.
Immediately the veil fell over his eyes. Reality sharpened as two figures appeared in front of him. Silver. They belong to him, his memory told him. He had stopped briefly at the butcher's for food. It had not been worth the risk and there he was taking it. Was he getting old already? He wasn't even forty yet. His bones ached. Yes, he was definitely getting old. He sighed. The son of the butcher had noticed he lacked the god crystal that usually hung around the neck by a chain. Must have told these about him. Silver didn't like his type but he already knew that. They would attack, he had been expecting someone to for some time. He thought the situation over briefly before reaching his hand past his head and gripping the hilt of his broadsword.
The first charged, wielding his shiny untried blade. It looked flattering but wouldn't do him much good. He had thought Silver trained all his men well. Apparently they didn't understand they had more of a chance if they attacked together. Yet his sight doubled, a second figure appearing as overlaid on the first. It was only a second ahead of him and a ghostly blue haze. Transparent and a perfect replica of the first. It had taken him some time to understand what it meant and even more to know how to use it when it first appeared years ago. His eyes locked on that specter, the one moving a moment before the attacker it resembled. The original was intensely bright. Every pulse of his veins just beneath the surface, a bead of sweat that ran down his upper lip and beaded there. The weapon shimmered in the light, the slight widening of the eyes and curling of fingers. He avoided the blow of the specter, the sword singing from its sheath as the third layer of his vision erupted upon the man's side.
The impact was familiar: the soft flesh that gave, the crunching of bone and the gasp of breath as air was forced from the lungs. It was a wet noise, his blade meeting no resistance. The sight vanished but the veil upon his vision had not lifted. His arm jerked the weapon free, briefly recalling when his arms had been too weak to do something that was so easy now. Magic could stimulate but it could not make his body capable. That was something he had to do on his own. His boot contacted with the side of the fallen soldier and kicked it aside as the Sight once more erupted and screamed at him. The second one was attacking. It was different, his skin was pale, his motions erratic. He could hear the throbbing of his terrified heart. That desperation. He did not move to avoid this time, watching the attack as it dove towards him. But the specter shifted and aimed towards his opposite side. He deflected it as the real blade slammed into his own. A sharp intake of breath, a startled whimper, then the wet gurgling sigh as he sank to his knees.
He withdrew the blade from his breast and wiped the blood clean from the blade. He did not even turn his eyes towards the ones who stood at both his sides. "Perhaps you would forgive me for acting in defense. And understand it was out of necessity and not out of spite."
Cursed, cursed, cursed...
There were more now, it seemed, and this one wanted to speak. He slid the hood of his cloak back and stroked his dark hair back from his face. Perhaps he should get it cut. It clung to his forehead when it got sweaty and with the rest tied back behind his head. He seemed to hover for a moment before turning and dragging the bodies from the road. The second couldn't be more than sixteen. Would his girl have been this age by now? He scratched at his scarred cheek before pulling his hood back up to conceal his face. This time he actually glanced over his shoulder. Even though they were translucent, those eyes were a startling green like his own. He turned away, wondering once more why she was still there. She never said a word, probably never would. Waiting. He knew he could not deliver what she was waiting for. Perhaps she didn't even realize she had died over ten years ago. He set off once more. The mountains were in the distance. He was headed away from Senos ai Kelsamas. It was a long way. The mountains would follow the whole time.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟᴅ ᴍᴀɢᴇ - is reserved
Summoner of Elemental Energies
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: S/He cannot use elemental magic but casts spells by using the natural energies of the world. This is not the same as an Elemental Mage. The world is controlled by elemental energies beneath the hands of the gods. The Wild Mage uses these energies to fuel his/her spells. This means the Wild Mage is not limited to what kind of spells s/he can use. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Wild Mage cannot go against the natural flow of the world because the Wild Mage is using the elemental energies and for every spell cast, a price must be paid in return. A concept very similar to the alchemic concept of "equivalent exchange". So if rain is called from the heavens, water must be returned to the sky eventually. Or if a life is taken through the use of magic, another must replace it. Because of this, Wild Mages are usually loathe to take a life through magic but use indirect means such as having rocks fall on the head of the victim. They will not directly kill with magic (meaning using a spell to stop the heart, collapse the lungs, or the like). It also requires personal energy to call the Elemental. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: The casting of spells usually requires no verbal spell but through using formulas, potions, and other concoctions (so is sometimes mistaken for an Alchemist). For example, s/he may tap into the elemental energies of the sky by filling a cup with water or the energies of the earth by a mixture of dirt, gravel, and clay. After the correct concoction or materials are present, the Wild Mage can then use it as a gateway to tap into the elemental energies. After tapped into the desired energies, the Wild Mage must simply cast a spell through Intention. This means making it rain by wanting it to rain. But since equivalency is needed, each spell comes in two parts: the intended result and fixing the harm done to the natural order. Such as replacing water in the sky after it has rained or returning the silt of the river after using it to make a bridge. The second half of the spell does not have to be immediate but continually using spells without completing the second part will lead to the equivalency being paid by the Wild Mage's life force and eventually death.
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ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ
The Advocate of the Divine
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The Witch is a Bridge. Each 'spell' is fueled and completed by the deities called upon by the Witch. This means each is intensely powerful. The Witch has a direct connection to the divine such as a bridge connecting two banks of a river. S/he can by some be not considered a mage at all but a holy person/cleric. The Witch can also sense/see the Realms without ability to pass through them. The extent of this 'sight' depends on the skill of the Witch. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Witch can, to a very limited degree, converse with the divine (can only converse if the god/dess chooses to converse with the Witch). Rather, s/he sends the request in the form of a prayer. This puts the Witch at the full mercy of the gods. Depending on what must be done, the Witch must know which god to contact and not all gods will answer. Some speak directly to the Witch while others never do. This requires his/her full knowledge on the pantheon and the personalities of each deity. Each deity has a different personality and so must be treated differently. A god may also choose to not do anything at all or if they do, may not do what was requested. This makes the Witch's 'spell-casting' very dangerous and unpredictable. The gods may even turn against the Witch if they do not believe the Witch is acting in their best interests. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: S/he casts spells through the intercession of the divine. Each spell is a request/prayer to the deities to complete the intended task.
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ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴍᴀɢᴇ
Master of the Physical World
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The Elemental Mage can control the world around him/herself at will without use of spells. Anything tangible besides living things are at the mercy of the Elemental Mage and can be controlled by him/her. Such as stopping the flow of a river or building a bridge over a river by using the river silt. S/He is not the same as the Wild Mage or Alchemist. Wild Mages control the energies that move the world and Alchemists change the entire nature of the elements. Elemental Mages control these elements in their natural forms. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: the Elemental Mage cannot cast spells and are limited to controlling the natural (physical) world (this also means man-made things. The Elemental Mage can control the base elements within the object but not the object itself. May be the same result but it isn't the same thing). S/He relies fully on available resources and doesn't have a "second sense" to know what elements are available. They must be nearby. The further away, the more difficult it is to control. S/He cannot change something into something else, only change its shape. Elemental Mages cannot change water into gold for example. Only ice, vapor, or the shape of that water. Elemental Mages also need personal strength and energy to use their abilities. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: This is another form of magic done by Intention. No spells or any sort of intercessor is needed. The Wild Mage needs intercessory 'portals' to use magic though the Elemental Mage does not. S/He only needs Will to command and Intention: the strength of desire to complete the task and the knowledge of what must be done. This is unique to the Elemental Mage and s/he cannot use his/her power without Will & Intention.
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Info . Plot . Rules . Positions . Journal of Strelim Kitrold . Characters/Profile Skeleton . Setting . Extra
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The Lyric Mage's power comes from human emotion. Energy for spell casting comes from the Lyric Mage and/or from those around him/her. This means s/he is not bound by any laws except what emotions are available and his/her own creativity. Any sort of spell can be cast as long as s/he can conceive it. Having a miraculous voice is not required. S/He can be utterly tone deaf. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: Spells feed from his/her emotional energy and the larger the spell the more emotional energy it needs. It also relies upon the caster's mental stability and skill at word choice. However, this type of magic can also lead to insanity by being overwhelmed by the needed emotion or by breaking the Lyric Mage's mind. Since the Lyric Mage's magic is powered by and feeds on emotion, the Lyric Mage must be able to control the emotion and distinguish other's emotions from his/her own. Something that can grow very difficult the more emotions that are being used. This magic also does not give the Mage a good voice so the Mage relies on what s/he was naturally given unlike for the Healer or Knight Mage. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: Spells are cast by the voice. This is most effectively done by singing but if skilled enough, the Lyric Mage can do so simply by speaking. Speech, however, is always required. Words are power for this Mage.
N o i r Wafflesaurus :: reserved
Laying on her bed, in the small two-roomed wooden building she called 'home', the woman inside was staring at the ceiling. Hugging one of her two pillows to her chest, her brain replayed the same scenario that lead her to this situation.
It had happened in the last few years or so, maybe about five or more, but she couldn't remember much about what lead up to it. The blonde had known her childhood was special, thanks to her mental condition - she could only speak in rhyme, limericks or haiku: basically, her only speech option was poetry-based. Having a dialect that was different from the others was a help, since most of the time she could pass herself off as a non-native speaker. It worked for a while, up until people began to question why someone who lived in a town with a certain dialect was still speaking a completely different one to the native dialect of the town. Usually around that point it was time to move on.
Reaching a new town, the woman tried to be true to herself - she was old enough now, people wouldn't surely be cruel to an adult woman? It hadn't been so easy, and even though it was six years ago, the words uttered in her direction still made her uneasy. That building didn't help, the medical people inside made her uneasy. A commotion outside her small dwelling made the memories of the jail-like building fade quickly, and opening her door, the sight down the road made her worried.
A scared child was running away from an equally scared horse pulling a cart. The horse owner was running far behind, calling out to the townsfolk for help. Stepping out into her small front garden, the blonde woman began to fret as no-one came forward to help. People tried to get the child to run to them, but the boy was too scared. Beginning to panic, the woman saw only one option - she had to intervene. She could feel the boys terrified emotions, his cries in his mind filling her own. Panic, terror, fear. Using these emotions, the woman shut her eyes and thought of quick words to hopefully save the boy. A garden bed was close to where the boy was heading, and the blonde woman knew she had to act fast. Words in a dialect only known to her small village came from her lips, a short song sung quietly and quickly to hopefully save the boys life. The lyrics sung of a push of energy, like a gust of wind with the strength of a gentle giant to guide the boy to safety. Just as the boy reached the garden bed, he suddenly was thrown sideways, tumbling out of the path of the spooked horse and cart, to roll into the soft safety of the flowers.
As the blonde retreated inside her home, the cries of delight from a happy mother reached her ears, along with the overwhelming sense of relief and joy. Lying back down on her bed, shutting her eyes in a vain attempt to ignore the sudden rushes of emotional energy, the woman felt relief herself. Her magic had pushed the boy with a kinetic wave, a wall of air pushed the boy sideways to roll to safety to allow the horse to pass him by. It was bad enough the townsfolk didn't really like her; she couldn't help it that she had a speech problem. If they'd known she was the one to cast the magic to push the boy... Well, knowing her luck they'd try to saw she meant to injure him. No-one ever trusted a "mental person". It would probably be time to move on again soon anyway...
ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴄʜᴇᴍɪsᴛ
The Scientist Mage
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs:The Alchemist's powers center around the ability to use energy to convert one material to another. If the Alchemist is skilled enough, s/he can change materials at will into others by using any surrounding energy sources. Since Alchemy requires intense knowledge on conversion and the nature of materials, the Alchemist cannot have any average mind. Simply, the Alchemist can be seen as a genius. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: This magic - for it is magic - requires scientific and mathematical skill to complete. This means knowing the nature of what is being changed and the nature of what it is being changed into it. It also requires energy and the materials to complete it. Nothing can be created out of nothing by an Alchemist and equivalency is crucial. Unlike for a Wild Mage, equivalency cannot be put off for another time. It will simply fail if there is not complete equivalency at the moment of the transmutation. Matter can also not be destroyed by an Alchemist. It can change density/substance, however. The Alchemist also relies on the physical world and cannot tap into supernatural sources except if he/she is skilled enough in energy harvesting. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: Alchemy can be done through several means since an Alchemist is both a scientist and a mage. It can be done in a lab by scientific means or by use of magic. "Magic" means something a bit different for an Alchemist, however, since the Alchemist cannot cast spells. With magic, the Alchemist simply harvests surrounding energy and converts a material into another. This is usually more dangerous and takes a lot more skill but is more reliable in everyday situations.
username :: open
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ᴛʜᴇ sᴋɪɴᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇʀ
The One of Many Faces
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: When the Skinchanger changes shape, it is not just appearances and definitely is not an illusion. The Skinchanger truly changes his/her body into another. He/she is no longer a human but what he/she has changed into. Since this is a magical ability and not a genetic one, the Skinchanger is not bound to size constraints. The Skinchanger also is not constrained by energy needs. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Skinchanger cannot simply just change into anything at will. The number of different bodies he/she can take on varies on the knowledge he/she has of different creatures. The Skinchanger can also only change into a living thing and nothing inanimate. That creature it changes into must also exist in the tangible world and cannot be supernatural or divine. Before the Skinchanger changes its body - since he/she cannot take over another one - he/she must have full knowledge on the creature it is changing into. The Skinchanger also cannot cast spells nor change gender. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: The art of changing one's body is both simple and complex. It requires a complete change of mentality and thinking like that creature, which can be complex, but also only requires the Skinchanger to Will the change to happen while taking on the new mentality of the creature it is becoming. This does not mean the Skinchanger loses knowledge of whom he/she is, only thinks how that creature thinks.
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ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʟᴇʀ
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The Healer is very similar in nature to the Knight Mage while at the same time can be seen as his/her complete opposite. The Healer is a mage who heightens the patient's ability to fight illness and heal wounds. S/He can see/sense (similar to the Knight Mage's battle sight) the source of infirmity and possesses heightened understanding of healing techniques. S/He has the ability to take the wound or illness of the patient onto his/her own person and return it again if necessary. If skilled enough, the Healer can also transfer illness/injury onto him/herself then onto a third party through him/herself (It must first pass through him/herself first and cannot be transferred to anyone unwilling to have it on his/her person). ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Healer also cannot cast spells. S/He also cannot simply mend wounds and dispel illness. The Healer, however, can also sense death and suffering from a distance at all times. S/He can also only help humans, and other creatures to a far more limited degree. The Healer is another who also needs personal strength/energy to use their abilities. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: The way the Healer uses his/her powers is very similar to how the Knight Mage does. Much of it is instinctive and simply known. Sensing death and suffering simply exists at all times while other abilities simply appear unbidden when needed. Only the ability to transfer wounds can be truly summoned at will as well as aiding the patient's ability to heal themselves.
Art Sale Gal :: reserved
Tat, tat, tat, the toe of her boot beat rhythmically against the wooden side of the bar, Maren leaned her head farther into her cupped hand as her elbow rested on the counter and sighed. Around her neck a delicate chain collected in the hollow of her throat, piling up and draping softly over her skin until it disappeared underneath cloth. The girl, young woman, waited impatiently for her drink to arrive. The ache blooming from an anchored spot in the back of her skull was growing larger by the moment, spreading it's heavy petals out over her inner mind and blocking any light from reaching it. Her eyes fell shut and she flexed her fingers before digging her nails into whatever was closest, splinters of wood pricked at the pads of her fingers and her nails also clawed into the soft flesh of her cheek. Wincing at the stripes of pain and seeing blue lightening behind her eyelids Maren opened her eyes.
There stood the bartender in all his glory, wiping clean a glass with a soppy rag, “Hey,” to Maren's ears her voice sounded scratchy and thick, like a sick person who's throat was coated in phlegm. “Drink.” Directing her gaze at the empty glass before her Maren cleared her throat, “Now.”
Shutting her eyes again Maren listened as the golden liquid filled her glass, what a sweet sound it could be. Upon hearing the glass being set down her hand snatched it up, slopping some of the precious brew onto the counter, and brought it to her lips, downing it in three fell gulps. No one knew her here yet, and the plan was to keep it that way. Maren was a drifter, going from town to town, slipping along the alleyways to avoid the chaos of the cart going streets where children, women and men fell everyday.
In the dark of the middle of the night Maren had thought it safe to wander the streets for a bit, all was quiet, all was calm and most of all the pain and suffering was dulled. People hurt everywhere, all around and there was no end to it, simply no end. Taking a chance to walk freely without the glances and the spikes of pain they caused her Maren strolled down the streets, arms behind her head, gait easy and even and humming a small song. It wasn't until she came to a pass down the middle of row of houses that she felt it. A gag formed in her throat and her heart seized, pain searing it's way down from the apex of her skull to the soles of her feet. Maren struggled to gasp, to take air in, to stay standing, to not make a sound. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over and drowning her sight before she could wipe at them. Shaking and supporting her weight Maren's arms shook, she had collapsed to her hands and knees and had slumped to the side.
Choking on the solid sense of death Maren shuddered, convulsed and landed on the ground completely, her body splayed out on the dirty cobble. She continued to shiver until it was over and when it was Maren still lay there, out of breath. After a minute of laying there, catching her breath Maren began to pull herself together. Pulling her hair from her mouth and spitting out dirt and the taste of death Maren sat up, quivering in the humid night. Once she was sure of her feet Maren rose and stumbled against a house, pushed off of it once, twice and regained herself. No, no, I don't want to, Maren thought, I can't see it, I don't want to. But her body turned, turned toward the pull of death. One foot in front of another, step by step Maren's body walked forwards until she came upon it.
An old man, his face lined well with laugh and worry wrinkles. Maren could taste the last of his life now that she was right there, carefully, gently Maren knelt in front of the body. Hands shaking just in the slightest Maren reached out to him and, with the lightest of touch, tenderly turned him onto his back. She brushed her hands over his face, his skin still warm and almost sticky in the hot night air, to his hair which Maren combed back gently. Her gaze traveled down, Maren swallowed hard. The man had tried to stop his heart attack by clutching the grey crystal around his neck, and there it was … in his hands, … dead, like him. A shudder took her body, Maren shut her eyes and stifled a sob by clasping her hands over her mouth. Gasping, gasping, gasping Maren struggled to regain herself.
She took her hands from her mouth and wiped desperately at her eyes. His loved ones, his wife, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, grandchildren, his family would not find him until he began to stink; a smell, taste that was nothing compared to what she smelled and tasted when someone near her. Forcing back a gag Maren opened her eyes and looked at the body before her, the body that clutched at the precious gem that it thought could save its life. Staring at the old man with a gaze almost as dead as his Maren brought her hands down from her face to her lap where she left them for several, long moments. With a blink of her eyes Maren came to a decision and leaned over the man once again, this time reaching for his hands.
Gently Maren unfolded them, took each finger and uncurled it as softly as one would touch a baby's head, and removed the crystal from his grasp. Maren drew in a quiet, shaky breath and tucked the necklace back inside the old man's shirt. She patted his chest for a moment, closing her eyes one last time in goodbye before standing and lurching off in an uneven run.
At the memory Maren shuddered, the aftertaste of death crawled back up into her mouth. Knocking the glass over on the counter Maren stood from the stool, not sparing a look at the surprised bartender, and threw money onto the counter. As she turned on her heel Maren propelled herself forward, wanting to escape, to get away, to just leave. She ran, Maren ran out of the bar and sprinted down the streets into the alleyways. Finally, she thought, finally. Her vision was burring, her steps were beginning to stumble. Finally, she was starting to feel drunk, buzzed.
“Whoo!” she hollered. “Whoo!” beginning to laugh out of control Maren blundered into beggars in the alleyways, into the walls. But she didn't care, she didn't care. All that mattered was that that omnipresent sense of death and pain was nearly gone. Maren ran and ran until she came into an open, empty space between the back of a house and the forest. There she fell, and there she laughed, laughed so hard her sides were going to split, laughed until she sobbed and slept.
ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ sᴜᴍᴍᴏɴᴇʀ
The Mage who Tames
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The Summoner has abilities very similar to the Witch but is also very different at the same time. When an elemental, daemon, or lesser deity is summoned, it fuels the Summoner's spells until the Summoner releases it or loses control over it. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Summoner does not and cannot summon creatures to fight for her. They must also be supernatural in origin since the Summoner cannot use animals or plants. This is both a powerful and very dangerous magic. A summoner must be able to both control what she has summoned as well as use its energy to fuel her spells. If the Summoner cannot control what has been summoned (most likely because she has bit off more than she could chew), it can turn on the Summoner and/or go berserk. Meaning death for the Summoner and/or those around her. She can also not summon a god unless it is a lesser deity if she is powerful enough. The Summoner is the last mage who needs personal strength/energy to summon. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: Summoning requires the Summoner to be able to call a supernatural creature to herself then chaining it down to harness its energy to cast his/her spells. This gives the Summoner near unlimited energy if she didn't have to worry about also keeping the thing under control and not infuriating it the moment it was released. This takes personal energy. This also means erecting a protective shield it is encased within and cannot escape from. Before summoning, the Summoner must form a barrier that can be erected when the creature being summoned appears. Since the Summoner cannot use magic until it has summoned something, she can only prepare for the erecting of the barrier. Summoning something is done similarly to how the Wild Mage opens portals.
the godly Prince Jessica :: reserved
Throughout the day, the town was awhirl with commotion and noise. Daylight filled every crevice and spared very little space for the shadows which crept from corner to corner. Horse hooves clipped on the dirt roads and clacked on the occasional stone, and dust flew in plumes from foot-traffic and carts. Benches littered the sidelines, and on one indiscriminate bench rested a woman in rags. She was obviously homeless and starving, but people ignored her beyond anything more than a sideways glance before continuing along their way. A few passers-by tossed coins to her from afar so they might fulfill their daily deed, and each glimmering copper landed in the dirt in front of the bench, but her eyes remained closed and sleeping.
Night fell like a guillotine, swiftly and accurately cutting off all life of the city. Darkness laid like a blanket atop the buildings, shielding it from any light besides the stars and moon in the sky, and even they were mostly hidden by thick clouds. The only visibility came from the elevated torches which hung from the doorways of individual homes. Finally, the creature on the bench rose to examine her surroundings. A hissed, ”Perfect…” rolled from her tongue as she removed her blanket from herself, revealing all-black, skin-tight attire. And in fact, she was rather fleshy and far from starvation. Her dark hair and skin made it easy for the woman to completely disappear in this weather.
After gathering all of the coins from her bench, she knelt on the ground and traced a circle in the dirt. Then, she took one of her many daggers from a halter and sliced open her arm, allowing blood to pour into the shape in the road. She winced only a little at the pain, having done it time and time throughout her life. When it was enough, she withdrew her arm from over the shape and sat on her feet, bending over the circle with anticipation. ”Come to Fern,” she whispered soothingly as a small, glowing sphere began to amass in the middle of her blood. ”We must be quiet and nimble. Tonight I will make us rich…” she paused and watched as the thing dimmed to become black, ”… with your help.” Her will was not yet shared with the creature, but she could feel it smiling within her in response to her offer.
That single smile was all she needed. As soon as the demon formed, she thrust her will upon it and chained it to her like a leash, white and radiating with cool light. The chains themselves were bright as the moon. From her experience, she knew the truth. The chains were only visible to her, the surrounding glow completely unnoticeable to anyone else. It softened but still remained a good source of light by which the thief could see. “Now, bind my wound, as I have given a personal sacrifice to bring you here and I will not see it taken advantage of.”
The thing frowned but obeyed her by wrapping her arm in fabric and sealing it with its mystical power. From within, she heard him speak. You brought me here with talk of riches… His voice resounded within her, but she quelled it with her spirit. He was only a lesser demon and could not intimidate her so easily.
“You will get them,” she hissed in response and glowered at him. How dare he try to impose his will upon her? He was a lesser creature, bound by her will! He would do as she demanded, and she would give him the appropriate share of reward. After lashing out at him, he would not try again. With that, she reached her spirit into him through the dazzling chain and soaked up power, then formulated it with her will to cast a spell of minor muffling. This spell would help to prevent any unwanted sounds from going beyond her range of hearing. With the light of the chain and helpful spells from the demon, Fern crossed to the other side of the street and climbed to the second-story window.
ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ sᴜᴍᴍᴏɴᴇʀ
The Mage who Tames
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The Summoner has abilities very similar to the Witch but is also very different at the same time. When an elemental, daemon, or lesser deity is summoned, it fuels the Summoner's spells until the Summoner releases it or loses control over it. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: The Summoner does not and cannot summon creatures to fight for him/her. They must also be supernatural in origin since the Summoner cannot use animals or plants. This is both a powerful and very dangerous magic. A summoner must be able to both control what he has summoned as well as use its energy to fuel hiher spells. If the Summoner cannot control what has been summoned (most likely because he has bit off more than he could chew), it can turn on the Summoner and/or go berserk. Meaning death for the Summoner and/or those around him/her. He can also not summon a god unless it is a lesser deity if he is powerful enough. The Summoner is the last mage who needs personal strength/energy to summon. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: Summoning requires the Summoner to be able to call a supernatural creature to him/herself then chaining it down to harness its energy to cast hiher spells. This gives the Summoner near unlimited energy if he didn't have to worry about also keeping the thing under control and not infuriating it the moment it was released. This takes personal energy. This also means erecting a protective shield it is encased within and cannot escape from. Before summoning, the Summoner must form a barrier that can be erected when the creature being summoned appears. Since the Summoner cannot use magic until it has summoned something, he can only prepare for the erecting of the barrier. Summoning something is done similarly to how the Wild Mage opens portals.
D Zonatai :: reserved
The night was cool, the wind was calm, and very few were out walking about. This, for the strange hooded man walking with a walking-staff in hand and at his own pace, was without a doubt the perfect time to be out and about. It wasn’t because he liked the dark or wanted to do something risky or bad…It was simply because it was quiet.
He didn’t have to worry about the hustle and bustle of life that went on during the morning…and then there was also the fact that things would be easier to deal with since there weren’t so many people walking about. It meant he didn’t have to explain what he was about to do now.
Walking to the edge of the town. Munashe raised his staff and swiftly pierced the ground. In a swift movement he made a neat circle with an “x” through it. He finished the small ground etching by making a short mark through each of existing lines, and placed his staff in the center of the “x” and closed his eyes.
“The night is still / The air is cool / You can eat to your fill / Just don’t make me a fool…” he chanted. Silently the air picked up and the markings on the ground glowed a soft blue, and once it stopped the marking was gone, but nothing seemed to have happened.
‘You make me sound like a glutton, Mun,’ the shrill voice of a small creature echoed from his shoulder.
Sliding off the hood from his head, the now-apparent dark-skinned male looked over at the strange creature with a nonchalant look. “Because you are, Yesga,” he replied in a quiet voice, before he began to move forward.
The small deamon huffed and curled up happily around Munashe’s neck and muttered, ‘You’d better keep your promise, Mun. I expect three healthy servings of rice this time around. If you don’t pay up—’
“I am a man of my word. You’ve been with me for long enough, Yesga,” he interrupted as he began to walk towards the small forest at the outskirts of the town Munashe was just at.
It wasn’t long before the overhanging branches of the thick forest engulfed them as Munashe traveled further and further in. Yesga perked up and climbed onto Munashe’s head, causing the cloaked man to stop.
‘So you didn’t summon me because you wanted company…there’s a disturbance here, Mun,’ the deamon mumbled, flicking its tail. Munashe simply nodded before he held his staff out again.
“I hear it steals away young children who wander into the forest…so I decided this would be a good opportunity for both of us,” he replied.
Yesga rolled its eyes and flicked its tail once more. ‘If you continue to do these charity quests you’ll never amount to anything…’ it scoffed. ‘I sense it would be best if we placed our bets on the powers of Nelial. We’re not very good friends anymore, but from what I feel of that disturbance…we’ll need her help.’
Munashe nodded and went completely still. His staff was still parallel to the ground, and nothing was stirring. Quickly he pierced the floor again, but this time it wasn’t to the ground, but rather the flesh of a small rabbit that had been scurrying past. The man bent down and made sure the rodent was no longer alive and bowed his head in respect for the fallen creature. When he stood up again, he traced another circle with a different pattern within it around the rabbit and backed up, holding his staff out before him and looking forward.
“Follow my will and take this sacrifice. Allow me to borrow your strength. By word of Yesga and by mouth of Munashe – Come, Nelial.”
Once again the circle around the dead rabbit glowed a soft blue. A small black mark began to appear around the white body of the rabbit before it completely engulfed the rodent. At that moment Munashe swiftly swiped his staff in front of him.
Standing before him now was the dark body of a creature much like Yesga, but much larger in size—about half the size of Munashe. On its forehead was a single white slip of paper that was wrapped around its eyes, and it stood motionless for the most part, until it turned its head to face in the direction of Munashe.
‘I have been summoned by a strong will, I see…I thank thee for the rodent. Such fresh blood—I have not had any in so long…’ she whispered, bowing her head.
Munashe bowed his head in return before he looked into the direction where a loud howl echoed. Yesga, still on Munashe’s head, flicked his tail once more before crawling back around Munashe’s neck.
‘Well, time to get working, I suppose. And don’t forget about those three servings of rice, Mun!’ it claimed, poking the side of the man’s face. Munashe simply nodded before he headed in the direction where the howl came from, Nelial following slowly after him.
Secondary Positions
These are characters open to being played if you already have a character (as a second character) or if all the positions above are filled. If there is some role you want that is not here, either PM me or post in the OOC thread and we can talk about it!
Heir of Red King Guardian of the Red Heir*
Silver King
White King
Blue King
Gold King
Black King
Green King
Soldiers/Servants of Silver King
Soldiers/Servants of other Kings
Aspect Statai
God/dess*
*ask for the significance of these characters
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Info . Plot . Rules . Positions . Journal of Strelim Kitrold . Characters/Profile Skeleton . Setting . Extra
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: The prince can use and does use the god crystals. He was trained in their use and because of his position did not have to worry about using them up, whether he actually took this advantage or not. He is also a Bridge but unknowingly. He is literally bridge that can be passed over. He is a connection between the realms that can be used to pass through them. He can prevent being used only if he is aware of it and cannot will someone across the Realms. He can prevent it if the one on the other side is trying to use him to pass but otherwise it is out of his control. As of the present, he does not know he is a Bridge. As one of royal blood, he also has affinity towards any god crystal. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: His abilities with magic are not extraordinary and are actually quite mediocre. This is likely due to a lack of using these abilities rather than a lack of intellect. Though a Bridge, he cannot see through the layers, converse through them, or put something through or take them back. It relies fully on being used than actually taking something through or putting something through.
PhantomHoofbeats :: taken
Father's god crystal.
His hand hovered briefly over it though he made no move to actually touch it. It was a lot alike any god crystal in shape. A translucent pale blue that reflected the light when turned. The sides were smooth and unblemished with many, natural, organically shaped sides. Each side was rectangular in shape in spite of this and the overall shape was oblong. The sides near the top end were smaller while those towards the bottom were elongated. The edges between the sides were originally sharp but had been worn smooth by constant wear. At the top had been screwed in a tiny gold hook where a chain could be slid through to hang around the wearer's neck. The chain was lying pooled next to it and was unhooked. Father's was larger than his and larger than most but not significantly.
He reached out with his small hand to actually touch it and the crystal glowed briefly. The light was also pale blue but made the blue of the crystal seemed darker and less translucent. His eyes brightened. Father's crystal responded to him. Quite a few crystals did, though. They just glowed, didn't do anything else, but glowed. Strange since they didn't glow unless being used. Father never thought it was strange. That happened to father as well. He also touched his own with his other hand but jerked back when a sharp stinging sensation burned through his palm. He breathed in sharply with wide eyes.
He winced when a deep-throated laughter echoed behind him.
"Curious are we, boy? The gods don't like it when you're greedy."
"I just wanted to see it, father," he admitted, turning around. He released his own crystal before grabbing his father's by the chain to hold it out to him. He waited patiently, gray eyes locked on a similarly colored paired. They were assessing, they were always assessing. The young prince began to shift uncomfortably. He was only seven, almost eight, years old and his father already always looked at him with that appraising sort of gaze. He had big shoes to fill, after all. He had a sudden fear that his father was waiting for him to do something. If he was supposed to do something, he had no idea what that was supposed to be.
But his father, the Red King, reached out and took the crystal before clasping it around his neck. "Come." The tall king turned on his heel and strode towards the big double doors that would take them out of his rooms to the hall. Nurvë followed obediently, eyes locked on his father's broad back. Maybe he'd get to be as big as him one day, he thought before skidding to a halt when his father stopped abruptly. He turned and opened another door, holding it open and waiting for his young companion to go inside. Nurvë did so, looking around in the darkness. The door shut and the only light that had entered the room was extinguished. All he was aware of was the heavy footfalls behind him that moved around, passed, then ahead further into the room. He made to follow them but stopped as the room was at last illuminated. Glowing orbs of light residing in flameless glass lamps. His father had his hand wrapped around his crystal, gaze distant. Only a few people used their crystals for trivial matters often and one of those people was this man. But he was keenly aware of the fact they were not alone. There were others in the room. One of them was his mother, he noticed in surprise. He shifted nervously, not knowing who the others were and what they wanted.
Someone cleared his throat then spoke as the king sat down on the only empty chair. "You are the heir to the Red Throne," the man said, watching him sharply. "You are coming to the time when, as royalty, you will be tested to see if you can master the god crystals as your father has. For, as king, you will be master of the quarry." Nurvë nodded his head slowly, growing even more anxious. He hadn't been told about any... tests... He glanced nervously at his mother but she wasn't looking at him. He hoped it wouldn't be painful.
"Officially, you won't be asked to show your abilities until you are fifteen years old. But halfway to fifteen, as you are now, is your first test." His father spoke this time, voice low.
"So you do not humiliate me, boy, when the time comes and you are unable. If you are not accepted now, you cannot by my heir." Nurvë noticed a brief flash of anger on his mother's face but it was quickly gone so he couldn't say for certain it had been there in the first place. But he nodded mutely at his father. He was supposed to prove the crystals liked him? He could already use them, he had shown his father and mother he could use them. He did not understand but the stern men watched him expectantly. Was he... was he supposed to do something? The strange man who was doing the speaking, though, soon relieved him of that anxiety by telling him exactly what he must do. It seemed very simple and he wasn't sure if they were making fun of him or not. His nose wrinkled but they were all watching him so he decided he would do it anyway.
Closing his eyes, he did as he was taught to do since he was very little. He listened, trying to hear the familiar hum of the crystals. He was told it was in his blood. He could always feel them and not everyone had that gift. Only royalty. Not even his mother did because he was told it ran through the male line. He could hear it, like voices yet not like voices. There were no words and it didn't really sound human but there were voices. He had once asked his father if that had been the gods speaking but he had only been laughed at. Of course it was not, it was the crystals. He touched his own god crystal to do as he was told. Just make his crystal glow. That was really easy, they were just being silly. He did not remember much after that, though, as everything went black. Time must have passed but all he could remember was a brief blackness before opening his eyes. He was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. Everyone was still there but standing. His father loomed over him, an odd look on his face he did not understand. Did he do something weird? No one looked angry. He did not know what he did. He never would, though. Only remember the faint metallic taste on his tongue.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ's ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ
She Who Protects
sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs: Whether it is luck, fate, or the hand of the gods, the guardian was with the heir to the red throne when the king was assassinated. She managed to get the young boy out of the city through the use of her god crystal and her skills in fighting with her halberd. The polearm is her favorite weapon, but is not the only weapon with which she is trained—swords, axes, and even daggers add to the long list of weapons which she can confidently wield. She uses offensive weapons due to her ability to create mystical shields and barriers with her god crystal… both for defense and for offense. For certain situations, she is also talented with bows and crossbows and usually has a crossbow of a small variety equipped to her person. Through years of fighting and duty, she has become quite the tactician. ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs: Because of her unique nature of magic, the guardian is not skilled in the use of a physical shield. This could be detrimental if her god crystal is ever taken from her, leaving her without any way of defending from afar. ᴜsᴀɢᴇ: The shield bursts from the hand of the guardian to envelope her target as if she were to throw it. It can take multiple forms, such as a large wall, a dome, a sphere, and other non-intricate shapes. For instance, she cannot make a shield which looks like a house or a tree. They are as clear as glass with a strange, blue hue to them which is similar to the color of a god crystal. Neither enemy nor foe can pass through the wall, meaning that it negates action between both parties towards the other—she cannot shoot a bolt from her crossbow through the shield, just as the enemy cannot. These constructs can lose their integrity if she loses the mental ability to uphold them.
the godly prince jessica :: reserved
The court was aglow with the streaming sunlight from above. It filtered in through tall, stained glass windows and reminded Pandora much of one of the huge churches in the city. In fact, it was nearly chapel-esque, as if politics was a new sort of religion that had been introduced to the people. These men, these seven kings, were appointed by the gods themselves to rule over the crystals which provided humans with the ability to perform magic. Their trust was incorrectly placed in these kings, it seemed, since those precious quarries were running short and pushing the surrounding kingdoms into a frenzy. The king had become paranoid, afraid for his kingdom and for his life.
Unfortunately, Pandora saw a perfect reason to be paranoid. The kingdoms were becoming restless, fearful that the gods would allow them to simply run out of the precious resource of magical crystals. Did they have so little faith? Would the gods truly abandon them? She would never say it aloud, but perhaps they would if they saw that humanity doubted them so severely. Mankind were quick to lose faith and to panic, which is what brought Pandora to the courtroom today. Her golden eyes switched down from the stained glass windows to the young boy beside her. The two were standing on a balcony over the court. He was watching his father handle complaints from his faithful subjects. She was watching everything else.
There were several other balconies in the courtroom, reserved for the nobles which supported the king without fault, or those which donated a severe sum to the king’s treasury. The guardian and her subject were the one closest to the throne—and to the exit stairway. He was close to the wall of the room, while she was between him and any imminent threat from the crowds or the balconies beside them. The doors behind them were closed, so she would hear it open if anyone dared get too close to the little prince whom she had grown so fond of. He sat on a comfortable chair for the long hours of watching his father, and she stood beside him with her halberd in hand and her crossbow ready for quick-draw.
Carefully, she gazed at each patron below and searched for any signs of imminent danger. It would be easy for one with less-than-honorable intentions to walk into the room, especially since the company in the room was civilian class. However, there was not even a single weapon besides a simple dagger here and there to be seen. Daggers which were rusted and useless for an offensive attack against the king or his royals, likely strictly for cutting weeds out of fields or, heaven forbid, self-defense. But a glint did catch her eye—not from below, but from beside—to the left, towards the other balconies. She carefully scanned the area and slowly drew her crossbow.
There. It was a man, crouching on the balcony behind a noble which had dedicated much of their time to the king’s more intimate schedule. The man crouched with the very same weapon that she had in her hand—a crossbow of similar size, good for concealing. Examination brought her to a further realization: he was aiming said weapon at the king. She aimed her crossbow, took a breath, and shot without warning, without counting down, without hesitation. The figure crumpled as if his joints were made of rubber—no longer able to hold his weight. Blood seeped out from his body, and the noble barely noticed. Then a familiar glint caught her eye, this time from another balcony. In fact, from every balcony, all aiming at one man: the man with the crown. Before she could aim, the next man pulled his finger back, allowing the string of the crossbow to thrust forward. Pandora shoved herself in front of the boy beside her, lest another bolt fired towards him, and pushed her hand forward towards the king—but she was too late. The shield bubbled around him, but the damage was already done.
A bolt was wedged between his eyes. Blood seeped out from his chest where his heart was. Screams erupted from the congregation, and Pandora extracted her shield from his lifeless body, grabbed the boy who was adding to the noise, and pushed at the door behind them. Locked. Someone had thoroughly looked at the situation before assassinating the king. Behind her, screams ripped through the air and then were silenced. They were slaughtering the whole room! She needed to get out of here, and even more importantly, she needed to get the boy out! Her gold eyes switched to her prince’s as she shoved him downward into a crouching position, then slammed her body against the doors to burst through them. The wood around her exploded into thick, deadly shards which hardly made her fall to the floor any easier.
Dead bodies littered the halls. So they intended to lay the whole staff to waste. She could feel the fear rise within her small companion as the dead bodies seeped with fresh blood, but it was not a new sight to her. She got back on her feet and pulled the prince towards her, disallowing any debate on the topic, and cast a wall-like shield behind them as she ran. The shield followed them, shifting as it needed to in order to transition through doorways and similar portals.
She ran and ran and ran, halberd in one hand, child in the other, and crossbow dangling from her hip. The confusion made it fairly easy for her to get out of the castle, using a private entryway to a tunnel which faithfully led them into the surrounding forest. Only when they were far away did she stop, carefully place the boy on a less-than-comfortable looking log, and pant for breath.
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Info . Plot . Rules . Positions . Journal of Strelim Kitrold . Characters/Profile Skeleton . Setting . Extra
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