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 Posted: Sat Feb 12, 2011 6:35 pm
Barren Existance
Barren existance was a role-play made in a guild that I am no longer a part of. However, in the process of thinking up a character, I ended up creating an entire race. It is the 'race' I made up that I would like to share with you, as I was considering either writing a story (about my race not the rp) or making a medieval style role-play that I could incorporate my character into.
So. In order to share with you my race, (and my proudest post that helps explain the backstory of that race) I will have to share a tiny bit of what the role-play was about. I am not taking credit for the other person's idea, they are his own.
NO post til I say so
~~~~~~Our Conversation about our character/rp race backgrounds.
Me:(Importege)
My thoughts were of a race of people who were once regular humans. Though not much has changed, there was a war with another kingdom in the lands my race once inhabited two centuries prior. Through the years the battle of war raged on, to the extent that only a few were able to survive, simply because they were women who carried children and thus unable to go to war.
Hidden in caverns dug beneath their houses, twenty expectant mothers tending to the small children left behind received a message from their God through a prophetess named Anna. The message was clear: Their hiding places would be discovered, and they must flee or die. Regardless of the fear involved in leaving the underground, those twenty women that were able to travel, slipped undetected into wilderness lands their people had never ventured to before.
Traveling day and night, surviving on locusts and honey for forty days, they came to a place where the land ended in a great cliff overlooking a vast sea of ice. Faced with the knowledge that they could travel no further, and aware that there was no choice but accept death at the hands of their enemy, or jump together in mutual death, the Creole people fasted together and prayed to their God. Begging for forgiveness in the knowledge that suicide was considered evil.
For seven days they neither ate nor drank; hoping for some form of reply or escape. A word that they could return home because the kingdom who hunted them gave up their vendetta. No such word came. Faced with the follow-through of the decision, four of the women knew in their hearts that they did not have the heart to end their existence so close to their season of birthing, and left the way they came towards what little of their cities remained. They would either die by the hand of the enemy, or die of starvation on the way home, but they excepted that fate and left the company.
The remaining women spent the night in prayer, deciding whether to follow the other women because of the small children with them, but knew that a death chosen by themselves would be better than to be the victim of hatred and die with no weapon to defend them, like sheep for the slaughter.
And Yet...
On the hour when they clasped hands and faced the cliff in a test of their faith, God answered his people through a light so bright none of them could open their eyes, and when their eyes closed they fell into a deep sleep. Upon awakening, a gasp of awe was spoken among the women that their god had caused wings of bone, skin, and sinew to form upon their backs. Due to their design, they could be folded very tightly against their back; however, they had not the capacity for full flight. Their wings were not the wings of the birds of the air, nor the bats of the night. The wings provided only one thing; enough deliverance to safely reach the valley of ice below. The ability to drift down instead of plummet.
And clasping hands once more, they leapt from the top of the cliff, into the valley below, never to be seen again, never knowing what remained of their people. They said that God cursed the sky, so that the sunlight would not shine down upon that valley. When a small troop of merchants, who had discovered the women on their journey home, came upon the edge of the cliff where the women had been, the only sign of life they found were words and pictures sprawled upon the rocks. The women whom had left early, who had no wings to speak of, wept bitterly for their lost friends and relatives; knowing full well what they had planned to do. believing they were dead, they left for a foreign land; a fog black as storm clouds presumably hiding any evidence of their bodies on the ground.
In the valley of ice and snow the women dug their homes beneath the ground and raised their children. Teaching them their traditions, and learning how to survive in the harsh environment. Regardless of how strenuous it was to survive, they and their descendants vowed never to leave, and being forgotten by the world, faded away from history.
~
That was my idea. Only the women have the wings, and they are so thin and bendable that if they do not remove their thick fur clothing they would not be noticeable by the casual person. It severely limits their functions, but they were passed down from daughter to daughter. There’s more, but that’s all I'm going to say right now. what do you think though? I agree with not wanting anything that sticks out like a sore thumb...
Him:
Turmoil rages across the Aegis-lands (The country the other person came up with). People's fear grows that their are rumors that their king is loosing his mind. Devastation wrings the hearts of all men, for it would seem even the gods have abandoned the world. The night grows ever longer, though the seasons turn to summer. Crops pale with the wane of the sun, bearing no fruits despite the hard spring labor. The men of the king, who once protected the lands, now rape, steal and plunder as they please. There is no word from the world outside the Aegis-lands, and hope of trade has died. There are even whisperings of vile cults worshiping dark forgotten gods and demons. All hellbent on bringing fire to the earth and burning all who live.
The Aegis-lands, surrounded by mountains that stab upwards to the heavens, was always desired by greedy men, men who sought the riches that lay within its fertile soil. Gold lay within the mountains, the land itself full of enough life to grow any crop. A land where no man had ever known want. The city of Pyth lay at the heart of it all, built along the banks of the river Ilgath, it's smooth black onyx walls a symbol of the power and pride of the nation. Giant slabs of rock darker than the space between the stars that took generations to drag from the mountains and make into walls. Making a nigh impenetrable fortress.
At the center of of Pyth lay the Alabaster Keep, within is the seat of the king, his majesty Dirir Buolcann Uliare. A respected man, who had always been known for his sense of justice. For his grand sense of honor, and his understanding of his people. he was charitable and loving to all of his subjects, as was his father, and his grandfather, and so on. His daughter Amiell Gratsi Uliare, by far the most beautiful maiden of all the Aegis-lands, was just as honorable, and never in known history has any woman's hand been so sought after. Though now, as the world seems to crumble under the shadow of the night, and the sun seems to fear showing it's face, word from the Alabaster keep has ceased.
There has been word of creatures appearing in the Aegis-lands. Before there was worry of armies invading from over the mountain passes, now towns are being swept out of being by unknown forces, and it is said that the dead have begun to rise from their graves to torment the living. The world has begun to decay, and what reason is there to live in this Barren Existence.
Alright now boys and girls, to begin this tale i have decided to place everyone in a subterranean dungeon. Everyone has been dragged down there by soldiers of the Aegis lands. A majority of the day is spent working in the mines, getting gold. The rest is cleaning cooking and sleeping. Now, you didn't have to necessarily have done anything wrong, as the soldiers and men at arms of the Aegis lands have turned to villainy as they have had no orders from the royal seat. So we begin as prisoners, and shall see where it goes from there.
~~~~
This is a few posts, you can skip over his if you want, as mine is where the character development that shows off the 'creole' race takes place. But, before you even do that, I must explain where the rp began and what has occured. //Basically, everyone is -for one reason or another- been thrown into an underground slave mine for either a minimal charge, or simply because the 'evil authority figures/soldiers' decided to put them there. So they are all underground against their will.
~~~~
His first Post: Rocks fell as the pickaxes struck the walls of the mine. Slaves of the king of the Aegis-lands, committed to hard labor as punishment for their crimes. Strecoare Enlever Topo worked deep within the tunnels, in the darkness. His muscles burned as he struck the hard walls again and again. He had been down there for weeks, and still found himself furious for what had been done to him. He was clad in but a leather loincloth, as punishment for fighting so hard to not give up his cloak, exposing his gaunt scar covered body. He had never been held against his will before, he was raised to believe that freedom of body meant freedom of soul. He wasn’t free, and the fury within him was aflame constantly. Though slowly breaking as his energy wore thin, he found it harder to put up a fight, spending day after day in search for gold. But the way people looked at him when they saw his scars rekindled it quickly. It looked like a psychopath tried to draw a highly detailed map on his face with a knife. Nothing has caused him more pain then the way people act when they see his face. Hence why he always wore his cloak, now it has been taken from him, and his only shield from their judgemental eyes is the darkness in the deepest tunnels in the mines.
He had been in a small town called Fallhedge. The people there were all farmers who enjoyed working all day, and festivities in the taverns at night. At first they were wary of him, but when he joined in their drunken games they decided to lighten up. He had decided to stay in Fallhedge for much longer than originally anticipated. He entertained them all with his abilities with his knives. It was a grand time. Then through town came the bimonthly patrol of the kings men. Srecoare was performing a juggling act when they saw him. The captain stepped forward and couldn’t help but make a simple remark about how ugly he is. Strecoare had lined the wall behind the captain with his knives, the captain feeling each knife flying inches past his body. Then the men fell upon him and beat him half to death before dragging him behind their horses for a mile or so then sending him to the dungeons.
He struck again, and again, known rather well that he doubted he would find any gold where he was digging. He didn’t care, he held not one tiny morel of care for helping the Royal family fill it’s coffers. He knew he would have to escape. He didn’t know how, but he refused to die beneath the ground.
(I deleted a few from my records, because they are not relevant to my race, or my character's posts. One or two that Do help my posts make sense I no longer have in my inventory, so I apologize about that, but the rp is not what I am broadcasting here. The rp idea was someone elses.)
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Posted: Sat Feb 12, 2011 6:50 pm
~~~~~~~~~~~
 My First Post: ‘Zappora’, kept her hands clasped over her face, the bottom of her palms gently rubbing against the joint where her jaw attached to her face, as if doing so could numb the pain that had not yet gone away even though the damage had been inflicted nearly an hour before. Closing her eyes, pointless as it was in the darkness, to focus her attention on something other than her aching jaw, her mind inevitably rambled back to how she had gotten herself in this predicament in the first place. Admitting that the bitter taste of remorse was a far sweeter taste to chew. Closing her eye-lids to give all her attention to the memories her minds eye entailed, she clasped her hands around her chest in the hopes that the self-imposed embrace would stimulate the comfort of being held.
___ ‘To truly go back to the beginning,‘ Thought she, ‘It had been three moons since the anniversary of my twelfth cycle when I glanced down from sharpening bone to discover the sign of blood on the ground beneath me.’
___ It was the moment her childhood ended, and soon after that discovery, she and her father journeyed to the temple to test the fire and determine her fate. Aurai had always had a strong spiritual eye, and having been raised by her mother to desire the highest calling - being single, pure and holy- and devote her time to service in the temple of their God. But when she was prayed over by a Prophetess known as Tamar; Aurai could not help but feel the bittersweet tinge of disappointment. On the one hand, her future was a blank slate; she had devoted little time preparing her life for the possibility of having a husband or being trained in warfare. New prospects were always brought with them some form of wonderment to which captured one in awe; but, having her hopes -for the most part- dashed after long believing that was the road she was meant to travel was a bitter pill to swallow.
___Creole people never married only for the outward of expression for love; in fact half the time love never came until after a couple had been joined in that covenant. Their law depicted not having romantic attachment with anyone but whom their Lord joined together. For most, they knew in their spirit who their partner was by the time they reached adulthood, and married when the time was right. Married partners battled together, prayed together, trained together, and ate together. All her tribe was so closely knit together in spirit that such physical urges only occurred when the timing was right.
___Aurai; however, had been deemed a woman by her culture, but she had already received confirmation in her spirit that no people she knew were to be her husband. This presented quite the problem, she was deemed to be married, but had no predestined partner. Although rare, it was a problem which had occurred in the past, and the usual decision her father decided was to give his daughter in marriage to someone whom had already lost his partner through death; a widower named Matthias, who was but four years her senior.
___’ Though we married, I still dwelled in my father’s house for nearly four cycles before the people gathered for our wedding feast. By the eve of that evening the famine had already consumed much of the underground…It was not the right time, and instead of preparing for…’ Aurai mentally skipped using such a word. ‘ We had spent the months prior building up endurance against the cold and carving thick masks of bone to guard our faces from the freezing wind of Creka (Which means: ice land). The Creole: those who dwell in the ice land, would soon be unable to sustain themselves. Our ancestors vowed to never leave Creka; nevertheless, there was no other option. We had been chosen to journey into uncharted territory in search of a place we might find a dwelling.’
and in the months that followed, the prospects only begot Matthias’ death, and her wandering aimlessly in the cold before her food rations were spent.
___Dwelling no more on the subject due to the vibrations of footsteps upon the ground of her feet, ‘Zappora’ glanced up in the hopes of avoiding yet another attempt at having her mask ripped off; which had been magically bound to her face ever since the event which had brought her into this dark predicament. The guard, by his tone and manner of walking, was indeed outraged at being unable to rip the mask off of her face, it being an ugly white thing with no eye-sockets carved into its frame. Vowing to try breaking it off at the next instant ‘Zappora’ misbehaved, the guard reached his hand out towards her, still in awe of how she knew he was handing her something whilst her eyes were covered, and placed a pickaxe in her thin, pale, fingers. Watching the white-blonde woman touch the object as if to reassure him that she was as blind as she looked; he spoke out a command fruitlessly knowing she spoke an unknown tongue before leading her to a wall; forcing her hand to touch it, and making her hold the pickaxe before tapping the edge against the wall for her to, hopefully, comprehend what her task entailed.
After a moment of hesitating, ‘Zappora’ lifted her arm in an arch and brought down the pickaxe against the wall over and over again, listening intently to the sound the tool made against the walls. Knowing by vibration only, just how large the tunnel was, and memorizing the chamber’s exact measure. They, surely, would not keep her in here forever; however, if she remained long enough she could begin planning an escape. Saying a silent prayer, she brought the pickaxe down once more.
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Posted: Sat Feb 12, 2011 6:58 pm
My final post, that really defines life in Creta.
~~~
In a land obscured with ice, where the ground is has never known warmth, a tent crafted out of layers of Gurrap fur sat restless, untouched by the wind. In a bout of pure happenstance, the little tent more akin to a dome than a triangle, was situated within the confines of a cavern amidst the Terath Ou, which were cliffs of ice; yet uncharted, by the Creole people.
When one slept out in the open in Creta, one gambled with their very life. Any and all possibilities of an enclosed encampment increased one’s life expectancy. Although not as harsh as living in close proximity to the north pole, Creta was a dangerous place with little oxygen, frigid temperatures, and above all: Aggregate darkness.
In the blessed sanctuary which the spirit had led them too, Aurai found herself unable to sleep. Amerced within the confines of several thick Gurrap blankets, the temperature outside of her cocoon still managed to breathe itself betwixt the open crevices to whisper against her neck. Contemplating amongst herself, Aurai concluded that it was not that this night was colder than any other night, nor was it an unbearable chill. It was an illusionary chill; brought on by only one detail:
Aurai was not wearing her mask.
Beside Aurai, asleep within the cocoon; lay Matthias, of the Rhubeneska clan. In the hours before her husband had found sublime exhaustion he had asked her to remove her mask before the gentle glow of his Cria Crystal. Except for one circumstance alone, Creole never removed their bone-carved masks. Gurrap bones were strong like steel, lasted throughout one’s entire life, and were specifically crafted to conform to the curves of their face. In a small way, it was as if these masks were a part of themselves, and to be parted from it was the pinnacle of exposure. Which could best be demarcated as having a deep, heart-felt, conversation whilst not having any clothes on. Although the description can not do the meaning justice.
~
Standing about the wall within the halls of soil and rock; charting out lines in a subliminal symbol on the wall in which she excavated; Aurai amerced herself in the memories of her past; before she had been found in the deep places of the mine with shredded clothing and little besides her bone longbow and daggers to call her own. She had not even a scrap of food when she accidentally stumbled into the mine, and to be seen by a guard and wanted as the only greeting she was to receive had not favoured her temperament in the least. Now, forced to work within the underbelly of the pit of all evil, Aurai did her best to remain optimistic. However, her aching heart made that nearly impossible. She could not keep from dwelling on old memories, and upon bringing the pickaxe down two more epochs, her mind once more rippled away to the past.
~
Thinking back on that evening, Matthias had wanted to know if she loved him, and upon removing her mask he did as well. In the kiss, and in the embrace which followed, Aurai knew what was in her heart and expressed it in the purest; most perfect form. She let her guards down, and gave everything of herself; body, soul, and spirit. Though it was more intimacy than the regular human usually experienced, her heart did not burst; it grew.
Concealed within the confines of their cocoon of Gurrap blankets Aurai wept again. She had wept; upon seeing his face, wept upon consummating their marriage bed, and as she pressed her face amidst the Gurrap blanket to guard herself against the chill; she wept once more. Aurai wept because she knew in her spirit…that this was the last night she would ever be with him in this world, and she would never know him again.
~
Pulled back from her thoughts, Aurai nearly gasped her breath as she felt a strange stirring in her spirit distract her attention from all other things. Slipping her consciousness deep within her heart where her spirit dwelt, Aurai listened. She simply breathed, and listened. Waiting, for whatever the spirit commanded. On the ice, life or death depended on whether you listened to the voice of the yol spirit, the holy spirit, and Aurai knew that no matter where she happened to be, her life or death would always depend upon whether or not she chose to listen and obey the spirit’s calling. ……Listen. The spirit whispered.
For the longest time, though not very long at all, Aurai stood beside the wall singing quietly in a foreign language. Her voice; crisp and beautiful. Her song mournful in it’s tune. Beneath her mask Aurai wept, for the spirit had revealed to her mind’s eye the evil which she had been previously barred from knowing of; and her gentle singing was the only thing which kept her from screaming out a great cry in agony. Mourning the brokenness of the land, Aurai could do nothing but weep and sing; and though her mask prevented any tears from falling, she could feel the dampness against her face. Feel her heart crush in on itself in mourning, and after those few precious moments; she relinquished the burden of that pain, and gave it back to God.
……Now listen again.
Hearing the holy spirit whisper once more within her heart, Aurai shifted her position to stand atop of the balls of her feet. Still wearing her Gurrap fur boots, when she ran as if almost a ballerina, her feet were relatively soundless upon the ground. Knowing speed and stealth were required, she accepted the pain her feet would endure through-out the experience, but there was no other choice. If she did not hurry, she would not make it in time, and if she ran as a human usually does, it would cause far too much noise and alert the world of her presence ere’ she goes.
Determination sharpening her gaze, Aurai ran down the flickering halls; past torches and other prisoners chipping away at the rock. Past Kumi, based upon the similar scent of blood, and his crippled wheelbarrow, down corridor after corridor, until the torches lighting the halls grew few and far-between. Entirely dependant upon the spirit in her blindness, Aurai gasped in a final breathe before plummeting into complete and total darkness. But, given her heritage, she was right at home.
Pouring out of a tunnel which by serendipity lead into these mines, Aurai had felt the spirit lead her to hide her weapons in the darkness. Within the underbelly of the mines where there was no lights and little oxygen to be found; there she hid her weapons.
……Until the right moment.
The spirit had whispered…and the right moment had arrived.
Completely at home in the darkness and lack of Oxygen, Aurai did not stumble about nearly as often as she did beneath the torchlight. Had any guards followed her into these caverns, most would be too frightened to stay without a torch, the rest would eventually have gotten lost or fled from shortness of breath. No, Aurai was not invincible, but as a fish only blossoms in water, as did the Creole people within the darkness.
Completely by the spirits leading, at the precise moment when she might be necessary, Aurai ran out from amidst the darkness; still painfully pacing atop the balls of her feet. A two and a half foot dagma, or dagger, swinging from the hilt attached to her belt, and a bone and metal longbow crafted with Parat sinew armed and ready in her thin; but, capable little hands. Her eye-less bone mask completing the figure of a ghost leaping out from the pit.
“ Uma‘r une, laval un serene‘ le uhn. Galape‘la uma‘r rughe.” Spoke Aurai to the men to whom had drawn their swords, which when translated conveys(with added words for comprehension): ‘ The desires of your heart are what made you evil, and in fulfilling those desires you, and evil, when it is full grown, produces death.’ Tightening the strong but thinly visable muscles within her arm as she drew the rope-like sinew of her bow and clasped it tightly within her hand.A sharp bone and crystal arrow aimed strait for the next man in line whom was headed strait for Strecoare. The tip of her arrow fixed upon the gap between his pieces of armour where her arrow would meet the flesh of his neck.
“ Cal‘ih mon, fre‘ze uma‘r.”, Aurai finished in her Creole tongue; her voice soft and beautiful; ‘ I am sorry for what you once were; but, now you must die.’ and upon uttering the final whisper of her declaration she released her hand; and the arrow flew steadily along its course right onto it’s intended target. Ignoring the immediate choke of the man to whom now had blood splattering out betwixt the crevices in the wound between his skin and her arrow, Aurai drew another thin arrow from within a fur-laced quiver strapped to her back, aiming for the throat of another man; allowing her hand to be stayed and listening to the spirit once more. If those men were stupid enough to keep pursuing the man the spirit had shown her, they plotted their own demise. Either way, Aurai had no intentions of allowing them to live., and upon listening intently to the sounds and vibrations caused by their movement; she waited with her bow at the ready.
A gasp, a battle-cry, a footstep, was all the incentive it would take before she used another of her most precious arrows on scum who did not deserve an easy grave.
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Posted: Sat Feb 12, 2011 7:00 pm
I know this is only a glimpse of the information I wrote down in creating this race, but it is all I want to share unless one of you is interested in knowing more. :3
If you want to post your opinions you can do so now. If you think I should make an rp for my character to squeeze into or write a short story, just post. If you have any ideas or corrective comments, feel free to put those too. I'm a hard girl to offend, so don't hold back; okay?
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