[Irish - Cathleen Ni Houlihan] The Blood Oath | Page 1 | Completed Quests | Guild Forums

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 8:39 pm

That's right. You guessed it; Pukio's finally caved to her ancient tempatation and has made a Fa'e Quest.

Some of you may be wondering 'What the heck; why now? There's like...virtually no chance for you to get a Fa'e, woman.' And the answer is: I've been lurking at the Fa'e shop off and on since I came to the Breedables a few years ago - back when the Youth and Teen Fa'e we all know and love were itty bitty babies or didn't even exist! The Fa'e was the first shop I ever saw in the breedables forum, it was the first place where I realized an actual community existed on gaia, rather than a bunch of people posting random crud. It was a place with amazing people, characters and - of course, - Anya's gorgeous art. It has definitely made a lasting impression on me. So, why now? Why now when it's been pretty expressely said that there will be little chance to get a Fa'e outside of babies? To be honest, I don't know. After the rehoming contest for Onuris, my invigoration for the Fa'e has come back with a vengeance and, most importantly, I've finally found a concept I genuinely like.

That said, I'm aware that many people may wonder where on earth I'm coming from. I can count the number of times I've posted at the Fa'e thread on one hand. In retrospect, this is probably a little silly of me, but at the same time I've never, ever wanted to be taken as someone who is just posting to whine and gripe and beg for a Fa'e. I know this is a little ridiculous of me - Fa'e lurkers are totally awesome people! -, but there you go. Debilitating shyness, even over the internet!

This quest is not something that can be accomplished through monetary funds, so basically this is just the concept for my dream Fa'e should I ever be so spectacularly lucky to get her. And if not - well, just creating Onora in some sense, even if it's just a quest thread, has brought me great joy.

User Image - Blocked by "Display Image" Settings. Click to show.

...........Navigation
1. Introduction/Navigation
2. News
3. The Myth
4. The Fa'e
5. The Guardian
6. The House and There
7. Fan Art
8. Other Quests
9. Thank yous
10. Reserve

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 8:40 pm

...........News
October 10th, 2006 - Setting up the thread, oh snap!
December 19th, 2006 - Finally done setting everything up, including writing the mythos. Open for critique and so forth. <3
January 20th, 2006 - Oh snap! Got into the second phase of the Lost Children contest! The entry for Phase One is available for viewing on page two.
February 05, 2007 - O _ O O-over!

Pukio

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 8:47 pm

.....

.....It is impossible to write about every skirmish, battle, noteable persons, or even the history of Ireland.
.....The country's life has been one defined by battle and the sacrifice of men. That said, I have done my
.....best to provide a fairly comprehensive view when it comes to the myth of Cathleen and the way in which
.....she would have been involved in such a history. There is very little in the way of an actual narrative
.....detailing her exploits in the Irish culture save for brief mention in song, poetry and a few dramas,
.....but I've done my best to present a history for her despite the lack of clear cut information.

.............................----¤----¤----¤----¤----¤----¤----¤----

.....There was not a birth, but there was a beginning. Much of it was made with the clap of stones set into place and the movement of dirt as men withered and died, their bodies rattling in age as husks to wind, interred into the dark hollows of the earth where they waited silent and bound until the sun slithered through the light-box above the dark doorway built to the East, drifting away with the winter. Men shivered with the grass and the earth rolled away red from the bronze and iron tools they carried.

..i.
.....Ruaidhri bent to run his fingertips through the loam, turning it over it his palms before letting it slip through the cracks. He breathed in deep, the salt air sticking in his chest, and paused to look back at the Roman men he had returned with. They were few, but Ruaidhri thought they would be enough. He smiled and turned dark eyes to rove over the green.
.....Celsus, with his helm tucked dismissively into the crook of his elbow, stood aside the man and took the shore into account. ‘I’m no farmer, but it looks promising, Prince. No wonder you came back.’ he remarked offhand.
.....Ruaidhri still had difficulty discerning Celsus’ meaning through the thick, awkward way the officer handled the language. The noise of the men on the beach settled in the air between them.
.....‘It will be,’ Ruaidhri confessed at length, straightening.
.....Celsus laughed and refastened his cloak clip at his shoulder. ‘You’re brother Caedmon will be unhappy to see you again. I imagine he thinks you long dismissed.’ Chuckling, he turned and motioned at his men to begin pulling the boat up onto the white shore.
.....The wind gust and Cathleen ran her fingers over the wits of men, of Celsus and of Ruaidhri before blowing onward and inland to tangle with the man Caedmon.
.....Cathleen could smell it when they later burn Caedmon far from his home and wife, farther from his mistresses. She in turn found her place in the cool hollows of stone and moved earth, lying down silent and bound to wait for the blood thirst of men to slither through her own light-box.

ii.
.....The breath gurgled from the slash in Llwyd’s throat and Mael Sechnaill forced himself to look to away as Cathleen gathered the thickening blood to her cup. Mael instead turned back to the ink water of Lough Owen, glancing face of his captive. He took a moment examine the weathered features. Thorgest’s mouth had set into a firm line above the tawny braided hair at his chin in the hour since they had taken him prisoner.
.....‘Drown him,’ Mael demanded. His breath came in short gasps and he stopped to tear a handful of yellowing grass from the earth and scrub it over the bloodied length of Llwyd’s sword which he had taken from the dying man.
.....Drinking from her cup with relish, Cathleen slid the hoods down over Llwyd’s clouding eyes as Thorgest struggled and breathed deeper of the Owen than the man she stood beside could find in himself to partake of the air.
.....‘Your sons will fight your same battles, my king,’ Cathleen offered with little remorse as she tied the cup to her belt. Ruaidhri’s sons had found little pardon from the same men who had brought their king home, less from the same men Mael had and would continue to fight now so many years later. It would be year yet before she found sleep again.
.....Mael knelt to wipe the blood from Llwyd’s eyelids and replace the sword in his hands.

iii.
.....John de Courcy of east Ulster, Raymond le Gros to Limerick and Munster; Prendergast, fitz Stephen, fitz Gerald, fitz Henry and le Poer, so many - too many as her people fell back under the crushing weight.
.....‘You must fight,’ Cathleen whispered into the right ear of MacDunleavy. ‘de Courcy will not hold if you bring the men of Ulaidh together with your own. He cannot stand with only 800 men against the force of both Dal Fiatach and of Ulaidh.’
.....Rory MacDunleavy drew his mantle tighter around his shoulders for it was cold in the hall that the men of Ulaidh kept. The table lay out before him, devoid of the somber feasting fare which had been put out the days prior. Men, sallow faced, grey eyes clouded from ashen want and desperation, peered back at him and Cathleen stood at his side with her sword at her side and her leine belted in the fashion of men. She was wan in the face and her hair was lank and of an unbecoming shade, though her eyes remained bright despite the weariness her face carried as a weight. She wore a hunger as palpable as the other men, the sparkle of her eye demanding the blood oath of the men which she now stood so quietly behind.. She fingered the great cup at her belt and straightened to look across the length of the hall.
.....‘To the river Quoile with you, my sons, to face John de Courcy - these Normans will not take your land unless you will let them.’ Cathleen rest a hand on MacDunleavy’s shoulder, the sleek fur of his mantle soft under her calloused palm. ‘Dal Fiatach was merely the first, and if you allow it de Courcy and his fellows will take the all the rest.’
.....At length, MacDunleavy knit his fingers with one another and leant forward out from under the weight of Cathleen’s palm. ‘We will move on de Courcy,’ he said, glancing briefly to the fair featured woman at his shoulder. ‘And we will face him at the Quoile where he will have no where to run when we route his front. We move on come morning.’
.....Cathleen nodded appreciatively and began to loose the silver cup from her belt. Where she stood, MacDunleavy witnessed with intense interest the way in which her features became fresh and her hair reflected a renewed gloss as the call to arms and death renewed the woman's vigor. MacDunleavy pulled his mantle around his shoulders tighter still.

.....She wept to drink the blood of both Dal Fiatach and that of Ulaihd on the fourth day as her men fell back like stalks of wheat, and those of de Courcy beat their chests and howled their victory on the soft banks of the Quoile.
.....She could find neither MacDunleavy or Ulaihd lord who had accompanied him on the battlefield, though witnessed the capture of the first’s sword. ‘At least,’ she reasoned as she cleaned the basin of the cup with her hem. ‘De Courcy is in want of MacDunleavy’s head.’
.....Cathleen moved from the battlefield in search of further men to call to her banner, cursing the man named King Henry.

iv.
.....They fled from the bloodied land of Boyne with William’s dogged men nipping and their heels, Cathleen riding in the shadow of the Jacobite banner as they beat a hasty retreat to Limerick. They reached it only to turn and chase off another assault. The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air, covering the field. The shriek of men and horses, and in the dark that followed as the Williamites withdrew it was difficult to discern losses and gain in the harsh shapes of piled bodies of men and horses.
.....‘France will come for us,’ Cathleen bent to murmur into the ears of men, weary and heavy in the shoulder even as they slept. ‘James may have left us, but by God France will come to defend us. They must come; they’ve left us St Ruth.’
.....Marquis de St Ruth bowed his head under her whispered words, looked away to the tangled heaps of limb and mortality that looked so much like bleached spiders in the wan moonlight. ‘They may come yet,’ he offered with little conviction but ordered the banner to be lifted nonetheless for they had driven off the Williamites so many times on their own thus far, so why not once more.
.....Cathleen shivered in the dark and made her descent from his side and into the battlefield, weary but pleased to begin the evening’s work.

.....Athlone and Ballinasloe, both torn under the feet the Williamite general Godert de Ginkell before they could reach him. But at Aughrim it would be finished.
.....It would all be finished at Aughrim on the 12th of July 1691.
.....‘A good position,' St Ruth, remarked soberly from behind his lines of infantry on Kicomadden Hill.
.....Cathleen watched Ginkell’s men, stretched 20,000 strong, looking much like an insect to be squashed as they converged in the road below to face them. ‘Evenly matched,’ Cathleen murmured and then reined her mount to ride down the line to the open Jacobite flank, for the ground way laid as such that only one of St Ruth’s sides was exposed, the other flush against a bog through which there was only one road which was overlooked by the village of Auhgrim itself and the ruins of a castle.
.....Ginkell struck first at the open flank with his cavalry and infantry, driven back by Jacobite fire until the grass turned slick with the blood of men. Rallied and driven back, the Williamite faced frontal assault only to be cast back a second time. Chased away three times by the howls of Jacobite guns. Ginkell moved to the road through the bog.
.....‘We haven’t any ammunition,’ Sarsfield shouted through the din, clutching St Ruth’ stirrup. His own horse had been shot out from under him nearly an hour ago and another had not yet been found.
.....The general motioned impatiently to the ammunition stock and received a desperate shake of the head from his officer. ‘British ammunition, sir,’ the officer explained, jigging in order to keep out from under the hooves of Ruth’s mount. ‘It doesn’t fit into our muskets.’
.....Ruth cursed and Cathleen motioned out to the line. ‘They’ve drawn back,’ she said and both men turned to see.
.....‘Bring the cavalry,’ St Ruth bellowed after a moment. The officer on the ground released his stirrup and scuttled backward as the horse was turned and Ruth raced up the hillside to rally his riders. Cathleen followed after a moment, brow furrowed. ‘They’re running,’ Ruth shouted. ‘They’re running and we will chase them back to the gates of Dublin yet.’
.....The cannonball that took his head made the sound of nothing at all under the successive bangs and shouts of gunfire from behind them on the road. The horse continued to run as his rider fell away, shortened to the shoulders.

.....Jacobite horsemen fled the battlefield and the right deteriorated under Sarsfield’s hoarse shouts and the Williamites surged forward to surround the center line. Men threw down their weapons on fled heel over hand up the hillside from Ginkell’s men, slaughtered as they ran. Deserters and prisoners and officers, dead men speckled the hillside as flocks of sheep as Ginkell’s men swept to the coastline, taking Ireland for William of Orange as they went, leaving Kicomadden Hill to the Jacobites and a woman with a cup and sword, dead all.

References

The Myth

http://www.pantheon.org/articles/c/cathleen_ni_hoolihan.html

The History

General History and Events

Important People

Cultural Aspects

Patterns of Fashion 1560-1620 : The Cut And Construction Of Clothes For Men And Women c1560-1620

Celtic Artwork

Other

Picture Credits

Sir John Lavery

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 8:50 pm

Name: Onora
Meaning: "honor, valor"
Origin: Gaelic
Nickname: Nora or Noirin
Gender: Female
Sexuality: N/A
Myth: Cathleen Ni Houlihan (Alternate spellings: Kathleen, Hoolihan)
Personality:
General: To put it shortly, Onora is a strong minded and driven young woman. She has an unflagging sense of loyalty, though her faith lies in ideals and and causes rather than in individuals themselves. While she may respect certain people for their own beliefs or actions, Onora seems to be acutely aware of the fact that people will eventually do what anyone can be expected to do: screw things up, be hypocrites, and utterly detestable at some point or another. Because of this (not that she is at all immune to the fallible quality of living) and the fact the most individuals have a rather limited life span, she would much rather put her hopes in an immortal and unmistakable, infallible ideal. Furthermore, she believes strongly in defending those ideals she has come to accept as her own. She solves problems in a 'the means justify the ends' fashion, and is more than willing to make a few sacrifices to get to a specific place - even if those sacrifices are other's feelings or traditional morality. Because of this, it is easy to take Onora as a brash, selfish and thoughtless individual - which, on some points, is exactly right on a surface deep level. Onora is, however, a defender of the people, if not the person. 'The good of the many outweighs the good of the one,' could easily be the woman's life mantra. That said, she would wish people their happiness so long as it doesn't intercede with the greater good of humanity (or whatever) in general.

Onora is a firm believer in human sacrifice for the purpose of compelling just ideals forward.

Expected Personality Stages
Baby: Onora is generally what one might expect of an infant: she cries, she laughs, she rolls about the floor and has a tendency to enjoy running about the house mostly naked and poking her nose (and fingers) into things that really ought not be poked in to. Onora is neither a squalling loud mouth, though nor is she exactly demure. Perhaps the strangest thing about Onora is that she doesn't seem to react to getting roughed up a bit - or, she doesn't react quite as violently to scraping a knee or falling on herself as one would expect from most children her age. Rather, Onora seems to pick herself up (figuratively, considering most infants don't walk too well in the first place), dust herself off, and get on her merry way. Most importantly, however, is that Onora does not like staying in one place for long. She would much rather be on some wandering person's hip than sitting and playing with a heap of toys in one specific place. However, she does seem to have unexpected and prolonged bouts of weariness; even during these times, however, Onora will still make some attempt to slog herself about.

Toddler: As a toddler, Onora discovers a slew of new past times - such as wandering about on her own (which, doubtlessly, leads to some panic on poor Morris' part), making a complete mess of the house, and in general be a roving young girl who manages to get into absolutely everything. And while her penchant for shrugging off clothing has faded somewhat, Onora is still not particularly fond of anything heavier than a t-shirt, and she refuses all attempts to stuff shoes on her little feet. In fact, the latter is the one thing that seems to irritate her to no end; she constantly tries to yank them off if she's subjected to them, and will get very, very upset if she's forced to wear shoes for long periods of time.

Onora is curious, but it seems to be on a more scientific level than one might expect. She likes stories, but not necessarily for the entertainment value; she likes watching butterflies and discovering little animals in the yard, but to date she hasn't tried to pet one, and if she seems interested in picking one up, it's because she wants to see the underside or see what sort of noise it will make when she does.

Those strange, almost uncharacteristic periods of listlessness still seem to affect Onora at times, and it almost seems as if they're getting longer and worse rather than shorter and better as she grows.

Child: Throwing rocks and beating clumps of grass with sticks would seem the purest and absolutely most entertaining past time should one consult Onora at this stage. Television, reading - she doesn't seem to particularly care for either, and would much rather be roving about outdoors. Luckily, at this point, her homing instinct is trusted a little more soundly by her father, so Morris pretty much allows her to go where she pleases so long as she sticks to the property and has one of her elder brothers along if she intends to go far ( - not that she seems to plan how far she'll roam on any given day; it just "happens").

Onora is an opinionated, strong minded little girl, though it is clear she is - in some state or another - a bit of an introvert. She doesn't seem to form particularly close attachments to people, not even her guardian (which is, obviously, a touch startlingly and a little bizarre). And while not exactly independent - she does have an apparent affection for the thought and theory of company, she simply doesn't care one way or the other who it is actually comprised of -, she does have a tendency to wander about on her own quite a bit; though, that could be because no one in her family has the same desire for roving about half the wood doing, in essence, nothing but walking or twisting about tree trunks.

However, Onora's wanderlust has a distinct wrench thrown into the workings of it: those streaks of weariness are definitely not going away, and often times half her day seems to consist of suddenly lapsing into a sudden state of apparent sloth. During these periods of time, Onora still enjoys doing outdoor activities - she insists on still walking about, and has an obvious desire to learn how to swing that stick better -, but it takes a marked toll on her. Furthermore, Onora has developed the tendency to look at people like they owe her something, or should be doing something they're not. Even she doesn't seem to be sure what it is, but her subconscious suggests there is some purpose that people simply aren't fulfilling as neatly as she'd like.

Teen: With the transition from child to teenager comes many things: hormones, physical changes, and most importantly, the key to those moments of exhaustion that have snatched a large part out of Onora's every day life. Blood, apparently, is the key - but oh, not any blood! As a teen, Onora has been putting a significant amount of effort into learning how to use weapons - particularly a short and brutish looking one handed sword Morris gave to her at her growth, along with a short bow (though she admittedly is far more adept at the first than the latter). With both weapons, she has taken to finding the one thing to appease those bouts of weariness the only way that seems to work: hunting. It seems that unless the blood has been acquired in any way other than what Onora herself constrews as noble, it simply...doesn't work.

Beyond the new habit of consuming blood, Onora has begun to widen the territory of her roving, taking care to explore as much of her father's land and the woods beyond as she is capable of. She has also developed a new habit of wandering the public roads as much as the wilderness. More importantly, she seems to have a penchant for trespassing, though its clear Onora doesn't quite comprehend what's so bad about it - it isn't as if she's hurting anyone; she just wants to talk to the people she might find there. It seems like an odd desire for a girl who doesn't seem to like people one way or another, but it is becoming clear that Onora truly enjoys talking to people to learn their beliefs and their desires, if not the person behind those wants, needs and personal mantras. In this sense, Onora has acquired a taste of reading - though only in her spare time and for knowledge and philosophy rather than for stories and great tales of bravery, romance, or derring do.

She is quiet, but thoughtful and expresses her opinions and own beliefs strongly should they come into question, and while teenage hormones don't seem to have too much of an effect on her, she is suddenly more forceful when it comes to people being slightly selfish; above all else, Onora seems to despise that quality in others, even if she harbors it to some degree in herself. Otherwise, she is happy to let people to their individual beliefs and philosophies without question.

She still hates shoes.

Likes: Weaponry, exploring, reading (note: textbooks only, please), rain, standing water, embroidery, fine tapestries and furniture, classical art, horses, dogs and the occasional bird.
Dislikes: Television, selfishness, cowardice, particularly hot days, tuna, most forms of footwear, tangled hair, exceedingly glaring examples of the color spectrum.

Appearance:
(This is for my own purposes really; should Onora ever comes into existence, Anya is welcome to draw her however she sees fit.)

Onora would, typically, have long auburn or chestnut colored hair, bone-straight (though it may have had some wave in it in her younger stages), that reaches approximately to her mid-back. She has a penchant for braiding the front pieces of her hair and winding them back to close with a pin or a knot at the back of her head, putting the rest into either a thick coil, braid or bun. While not beautiful, Onora's features are faintly striking. She has a strong nose, cheekbones, and bright hazel eyes, though also a small chin and a uncharacteristically high forehead. Her features are a touch ruddy from spending time in the sun, though from a natural standpoint she was 'born' pale. She's heavily freckled across the surface of her face and her forearms (or anywhere else that happens to get a lot of time in the sun).

That said, Onora's skin under her clothing has a few interesting markings of note - though due to the rather, ahem, privately placed nature of most of them, it's doubtful that a whole lot of the markings should ever come to light. Onora's torso - front and back, spidering over her shoulders and slightly down her thigh) is mapped by a pattern of celtic knot-work and imagery, particularly that in the La Tene style (examples of which all can be found in the research section of the myth post).

She has a fondness for short dressed or belted tunics that end at the knee, so long as they are free flowing and she's able to move about in them, particularly if they're made of light weight flowing material. She seems to like lighter shades of the color spectrum, if not exactly pastel - more a liking for washed out colors than naturally bright ones. Onora also has an affection for fine embroidery, particularly knot-work and floral designs, and has a tendency to collect garments featuring it. Her feet are calloused and she would much rather go barefoot than bother with shoes. If absolutely forced, however, she might put on a pair of sandals. She will rarely don trousers and prefers a shawl to a coat.

Powers:
It should be noted that Onora will never be an ability or power saturated Fa'e. While she may have certain skills or traits, these will most likely be developed solely through time rather than some innate, supernatural skill.

Persuasion: Onora has a slight touch of the ability to magically persuade a person to her side of reasoning, whatever it may be. It should be noted that she is not able to sway a person from totally opposite ends of an issue's spectrum, but should an individual be leaning toward her way of thinking or 'on the fence,' so to speak, she may be able to affect their decision. Couple with a strong personality and the gift of charisma and strength of will, this power could easily be taken as a little dangerous - particularly because Onora is known to fight for her desire for some greater good than for what might actually be considered fair or right. While she uses this power without any great labor behind it, it is not always in effect.

Weapon Skill: Onora is in some slight way skilled with most weapons, though the ability by no means allows her to master a particular weapon without some dedication to learning it; for example, she cannot simply snatch up a katana and instantly be an epitome of Japanese swordsmanship.

Weaknesses: Onora's noted and primary weakness (in a supernatural, magical sense anyway - not to touch on personality and general character weaknesses) is the fact that she must consume blood on a regular basis to keep her strength and vitality. However, she is by no means a vampire as not just any 'ole cup of blood will suit her needs. Rather, Onora must consume the blood of a warrior, or someone (or something) who has died in some 'honorable' fashion. For example, she can sustain herself on the blood of a pig from a slaughter house, but hunting and killing a deer in a sportsmanlike fashion and drinking its blood would fit the bill. Should Onora go for long periods of time (every few days or so) without this ritual, she will begin to lose her strength and will begin to become frail, withered and sickly.

Pukio

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 8:51 pm

Name: Morris Alrimson
Meaning: Irish, English "dark, swarthy"
Nickname: None
Gender: Male
Birthdate: 23th of Savjone, P237 A
Age: 26
Race: Human
Country of Residence: Roruel

Appearance: Morris is of fairly average stature with soft, vaguely good looking features but not necessarily handsome. He has a fairly prominent nose which dominates much of his face along with a somewhat large forehead, albeit underscored by a thin mouth and a strong chin. He is fair skinned with a sandy brown head of curly hair which he wears sensibly short around the ears and at the back. Typically, Morris is known to wear dark trews, a shirt and surcoat of some sort. He has thick forearms and is somewhat short through the leg and long through the body - a touch thin both through the hip and shoulder, unused to hard physical labor but not necessarily adverse to work.

Personality: Morris is quiet but short-tempered, somewhat overly quick with his judgment and not entirely clever with either his sense of deduction or his words, but he has a good sense of intuition and is usually a good judgment of character despite his habitual haste in such matters. Nonetheless, he's somewhat naive, has a tendency to get a touch irritable and almost selfish. He is quick to fall both in and out of affection for acquaintances and quickly-made friends; despite this, he has strong loyalties to any man or woman who manages to capture his admiration - rather than his friendship, persay - and will gladly fight for their happiness should it come into question.

Background: Morris, son of Alrim Cronwill, what born into a fairly influencial family of the country of Roruel. His father Alrim was what was then commonly known as a Birdmaster (see Rostik, Roruel in the post below for further details). Alrim's lordship contained a stretch of land along the Nilrin Mountains, encapsulating a small village by the name of Halfrey. Morris is the youngest of four sons though has one younger sister, Catrine. He grew up fairly close with his brothers who were of similar age, particularly his eldest brother Cordul. When Morris was thirteen, Alrim died quite suddenly and Cordul was thrust into the place of Birdmaster and Catrine was quickly married off to the neighboring lord at the ripe age of twelve, a good handful of years earlier than she would have been under usual circumstances.

Unfortunately, her husband quickly gained leverage over the Cronwill lordship through Catrine and displaced Cordul - who was barely eighteen at the time - as Birdmaster, usurping the old Cronwill lands and making the name of the four brothers Alrimson rather than the entitled Cronwill. In the way of Roruel, there was little to be done save to assimilate into Lord Alek Talmrin's house.

As such, from the age of thirteen onward Morris grew up as a petty brother-in-law of the Lord Talmrin and brother to the Lady Talmrin. For the most part, the change was accepted without question - it was, after all, simply how things worked. The Birdmaster had changed families in the past and it would do so again in the future; there was little to be done for it simply to bear the shift of power. Morris' brother, Cordul, fared fairly less comfortably - for it is the need of any man bound to the birds to have some hand in their world and that right had been stripped from Cordul as the title of Birdmaster had changed. In an attempt to alleviate his brother's pain, Morris quickly tied himself closer to Cordul in an effort to distract him in some way. The two grew close as the Lord Talmrin aged and the birds learned to listen to his whistles and hands rather than those of Cordul or any once-Cronwill's.

When Morris was twenty-one, in the summertime of Roruel, one of the small flocks of blackbirds which Alek kept went missing in a storm. Unbidden, Cordul left the lord's castle after a brief argument with Morris himself, taking with him a number of the hunting dogs which the castle kept. Cordul found the flock, though died in the storm as he was returning to the castle.

Morris carried the weight of his brother's death badly.

At twenty-three, walking the woods on his brother-in-law's property, Morris stumbled across the burned out skeleton of an old gypsy wagon he and Cordul had found once many years before after the winter in which Alek had chased a number of gypsies from his land. In the remnants of the wagon he found a baby who belonged to no one at all.

In three years, Morris would find himself fleeing Roruel with his otherworldly daughter, running from something perhaps neither of them properly understood.

Hobbies: Playing cards, fishing, riding, training hunt dogs and courting various women in turn.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Occupation: None
Finances: Extremely Comfortable
Religion: Agnostic, though he attends the Chapel of the Lady Maladine with his sister on religious holidays.
Likes: Hunting, dogs, horses, the color red, warm weather and sunshine, summer and fall.
Dislikes: Spiced wine, almonds and pecans, the cold, lightning storms.
Vices: Gambling, smoking, and biting the nail of his right thumb.

Important Relationships:
Lady Catrine Talmrin - Morris' younger sister. The two are not particularly close, due largely to the fact that Morris and her husband share and extreme distaste for one another. When the two are alone they get along fairly well so long as they converse on neutral subjects such as parties and other frippery and gossip. Catrine has a deep seeded guilt riding along much of her relationship with her blood family though, so it is difficult to call the two anything but tactful and quietly affectionate to one another.
Stephan Alrimson - Morris' eldest surviving brother. Stephan is four years older than him. The two have a tendancy to bicker and squabble at one another like cats and dogs and rarely can withstand the other's company when one of them is talking due to their opposing view points. Nonetheless, they care for one another on that level of familiarity they share, rather than any common round of shared interests or anything like that. Stephan has a tendancy to lecture.
Lewill Alrimson Older than Morris by two years, the two share a sort of easy but loose comraderie. Lewill is easily the outgoing personality in the family and has a throng of close friends who Morris has somewhat set himself a part from. Because of this, the two aren't extremely close by any stretch of the imagination but they enjoy one another's company enough - even if Lewill seems a touch oblivious to his brother's feelings.
Cordul Alrimson (deceased) - Morris' eldest brother and the intended heir of the Cronwill lordship before it was upsurped by the Talmrin. Cordul and Morris had grown extrmely close over the years preceeding Cordul's death.
Lord Alek Talmrin - Morris' bother-in-law. The two don't get along very well, though not necessarly because of the fact that Alek took Morris' family lands and title but because the two have strongly differing perceptions and Alek views Morris largely to be a poor influence on his wife. The two avoid one another like the plague and have difficulties being civil.
Lord Alrim Cronwill (deceased) - Morris' father, both Lord Cronwill and Birdmaster of the Roruel's Northern provinces.
Lady Laurit Cronwill (deceased) - Morris' mother and wife of Alrim Cronwill, died of fever two years after Catrine was born.

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 8:55 pm

...

.................................................................................(click to enlarge)

I. Rostik, the planet.
i. An Overview
Rostik is a young planet of, culturally, unknown size. There are five known continents, two known oceans, and multiple smaller bodies of water. The landscape of the world varies from heavily forested area, plains, and one large desert in the far south. The known continents of the world are set somewhat closer to the north pole of the planet and does not, according to the map, center on an equator. Rather, the equator of Rostik runs far closer to the border of Roruel and Ithin.

Humans are the predominant intelligent race of the planet, though it's said that their are clusters of more magically inclined humanoid beings in unknown areas. There is a strong belief of faeries and much of the land is saturated by magic and magic practitioners. Rostik is a land in which much can happen - of wishing fish and peddlers with enchanted mirrors, gypsies with secrets and old magic that no one can remember how to work any longer.

II. The continents
i. Lovise
Lovise in the second largest country on Rostik and takes up the entirety of the Northern continent. It is ruled by a monarchy and a house of Lords and has been since its founding. The current ruler is Patric of House Lapus. The capitol city of Arlind is built on the foundations of a much older city. A dominant feature of the city are the inner and outer rings. The inner city is built on a man-made island at the venter of a lake with three bridges (the Pulan, Tasin and Belere) connecting it to the outer city. The inner city has four clocktowers at the North, South, East and West and houses the king's castle. Arlind is built on the river Mathilde River and is built around the manmade Lake Lerden.

Lovise is a heavy grassy and forested country with two small mountain chains at the West and South. It has two large rivers and a number of large cities, many of which are set along either the Teinan Ocean or the Cygun Sea - as Lovise once did a fair bit of trading with it's Southern neighbor Laerke. The landscape is heavily wooded and the weather is mild in the summers and extremely cold during the winter months.

Magically, Lovise is the most barren of all the countries to the point where most magical practitioners are not particularly welcome. Most of the population considers magic to be a foreign device and it is not practiced widely save for the occasional seer in larger villages who, though technically witches, are considered to be herbalist or fortune tellers rather than witches.

ii. Laerke
Laerke has a totalitarian dictatorship-type government, though quite recently it was ruled by a monarchy somewhat similar to that of Lovise. The current leader is the woman named Ahrlihide, known as The Black Queen. She closed off the borders of Laerke (save for the westernmost province who, separated from the main kingdom by a section of the country Roruel, has been left remarkably unattended to) upon gaining the throne and has since taken the country into a strict handhold. As such, not much is known about the current state of the kingdom by it's neighbors. The Black Queen is a powerful witch and magic, particularly the choatic arts, runs rampant in Laerke.

Geographically, Laerke has multiple smaller rivers and a large mountain chain, the Nihil Moutains, on the western edge of the kingdom that separates it from Roruel. The borders are heavily wooded, though the center of the kingdom is predominantly grasslands. The Malene Bay sits to the Southeast edge of the kingdom.

iii. Roruel
Roruel is an extremely rural kingdom, ruled by a king who sits in his castle at the capitol. The rest of the sprawling landscape - for Roruel is the largest kingdom of Rostik - has been divided into provinces handled by titled lords. There are few paved roads or large cities on Roruel and it is generally considered fairly behind from a technological standpoint. It runs off almost a tribe-like scenario despite all the lords paying allegiance to the king.

There are three large mountain chains in the kingdom and a number of rivers of varying sizes. Furthermore, the Ruevan Sea and Ailith Sea both sit on the Eastern border. Both seas open out into the Tienan Ocean. The landscape is fairly wooden around the northern borders, though it deteriorates into grasslands near the center. At the souther border it becomes long, lonely plains and a fairly large desert which spans a large width of the southern bit of the kingdom before hitting the border between Roruel and Ithin. There is a trade road that runs along the perimeter of the desert, but few traders actually choose to travel through the wasteland as there are only a few known sources of water.

The people of Roruel themselves feel they have deep roots and traditions and while they don't necessarily consider themselves a magically heavy society, many of their traditions are rooted in a belief of the spiritual and magical aspects of their world. Witches and wizards of low and average power are fairly common in the world and most of the lords have at least one healer-witch in their employ. Culturally, the people of Roruel rely more heavily on hunting and farming than they do trade. The people of Roruel believe in many different gods and goddesses, though most people will choose to celebrate one or the other more heavily than the others depending on their status in life. For example, a lord might worship Camlry, the God of power and good fortune, while a healer-witch may offer trinkets on the altar of The Lady Maladine, Goddess of good health and family. A large part of the Roruelian culture also hinges on who holds the title of Birdmaster.

iv. Ithin and Kashk
Ithin is the smallest kingdom of Rostik and was once a part of Kashk until a few generations ago during which a political grappling resulted in the mainland section of the kingdom breaking off from the larger continent. As such, the cultures of the two are extremely similar. Ithin is ruled by a single king and his sons whereas Kashk has largely degenerated into a number of tribes. The two countries both worship the same gods - Kalfreq the Father (who often takes the form of a large serpent) and Laquietr the Mother (often in the form of a star). Ithin is a somewhat more stationary culture whereas Kashk, due to the division of the government itself, has become a slightly more nomadic hunter/gatherer type of living condition, though the mannerism of the people and the language they speak are both the same.

Temperatures are, for the most part, extremely warm due to both countries lying extremely close to the equator. Much of the landscape are either desert and plateau areas or looming grasslands with very little wooded area. There are a few large bodies of water. The Sea of Thald divides the countries.

v. Sharar, Sofij, North Nahor and South Nahor
All four of these places are extremely remote and only lightly settled as it has been only in the very recent future that the second large landmass was discovered and explored. Some of the land is still vastly unexplored territory, though almost every established kingdom has claimed some of it in part under their own banner. Most of the land has been claimed by Laerke and, despite the fact that the queen hasn't done much with it, none of the other kingdoms have yet moved in on the territory for fear of angering the ruler.

III. The Birdmasters
i. General information
At the most basic explanation, a Birdmaster is a person who communicates with a chosen flock or flocks of birds. He uses the birds both as a form of communication between the different provinces of Roruel but also as a means to keep an eye on his own borders of the borders of the kingdom itself. There is a single Birdmaster at any given time in the kingdom of Roruel. The Birdmaster is always a lord and has never been a king. In some way, the Birdmaster is a check and balance for the rulership of the king and is generally considered only a step below the king himself in terms of affluence. He is the most powerful of the lords and generally is considered to have the weight of two seats in councils between lordships.

The title of Birdmaster is, typically, handed down from father to eldest son and rarely changes hands between lordships - though it has happened before. Often, the shift in power will occur because a Birdmaster dies and his wife remarries another lord who would then take on the title and the flocks of the previous Birdmaster. Occasionally, in the case of both Lord and Lady being deceased, the new Birdmaster will find the title simply upsurped by a neighboring, more experienced Lord. The shift of power, though not common, is culturally accepted and it's generally considered bad taste to hold a grudge against a lord if the title shifts to another family.

It should be noted that, despite the title being called Birdmaster, the Lord and the flocks are more the equivalent of allies. The lord houses the birds in exchange for information - it is, primarily, a mutual respect relationship.

ii. Traditions
A Birdmaster will be trained from the age of twelve or younger, depending on his father's wishes. In the case of the title being taken, the young man who the title was intended for is obligated to pass on his training to the new Birdmaster.

At a young age, the chosen heir will follow his father on visits to the rookery and learn how to speak with the birds, gain their respect and know how to make them do as one pleases - for a bird will take advantage of a man if he can do so. As is, it's a belief that any Birdmaster in turn gives something of himself to the birds he keeps - a certain sharing of conscious that cannot be wholly broken even if a man loses his title and the flocks become another's.

Typically, the birds in use are smaller, darker birds, traditionally blackbirds, ravens and crows.

IV. Time Measurement
Rostik follows a separate calendar and form of time measurement that Gaia does. Below is an explanation of the Rostikan calendar and clock systems.

i. The Calendar
(Gaian Standard - Rostikan Standard)
Day - Drad
Week - Cept
Month - Cag
Year - Pol

There are six drads (days) in a cept (week), known under the names of:
Arturan
Geidran
Leonan
Eirkan
Vadan
Petran

There are twenty-seven drads (days) in a cag (month), of which there are thirteen in a pol (year). The thirteen cags are known as:
Darja
Levrice
Urska
Domen
Jarnech
Sigrun
Savjone
Rihar
Tinek
Venka
Amind
Rohes
Koppel

ii. Clock System
(Gaian Standard - Rostikan Standard)
Seconds = Pits
Minutes = Marks
Hours = Matches

There are twenty-two matches (hours) in a drad (day). Otherwise, the pit-mark-match relationship is the same as the second-minute-hour relationship.

iii. Roruelian Monetary System
(It should be noted that almost all of the kingdoms of Rostik run on different currencies, save for Laerke and Lovise which share one.)

Chit - square copper coins with the centers punched out. Typically, chits are loose change and can't buy much on their own. There are twenty chits to a trag.
Trag - Large flat copper disks. The prominent feature of the coin, excepting the size and color, is the stamp of bird inside the circle. The symbol is the prevalent representation of Calmry, the God of Fortune. Trags are typically used to buy meals, services, or pay for menial work. There are 32 trag to a lamf.

Lamf - Lamf are medium sized silver color coins. They are technically a silver and copper mix, but shine silver. Lamfs are used to buy clothing, pay for an average working man's wage, and so forth. There are fifteen lamf to a det.

Det - Gold colored and oval in shape, dets are the most valued Roruelian coin. Dets are commonly used to buy extremely large objects or items of extravagance. Each det has a bell printed on it's center.

Pukio

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 9:04 pm

Zomg, conceptual art and fanart? Pukio's an artist and has a bad habit of drawing everything. As such, this will probably be full of her own dorky sketches and musations. Any fanart would be super crazy cool, though! o_o <3

Click to Enlarge

.....

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 9:06 pm

Got a quest? I'll be happy to link you! :3 Want to link me back? Hooray!

[url=http://www.gaiaonline.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=17677499]
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v697/Pukio/onora/onorasig.jpg[/img][/url]

Pukio

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 9:09 pm

This is a place for special thank yous, be it to people who have critiqued my concept, stuck around and chatted - whatever! Thank you so much, everyone, for your support. <3

Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 9:13 pm

Reserved!

Pukio

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Tue Dec 19, 2006 6:29 pm

Okay. I...think...I may in fact be done setting this up now. Whoo! *victory arms* Comments, critique and all that jazz would be very very welcome here. n _n <33

Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 12:31 pm

The only thing I have to say about this is to make sure to get things ready for the Lost Children contest with the original world for Michael, assuming you would still want him as the Guardian. I'd actually like if you'd PM me when you got that up so I could double-check to make sure there's nothing that would invalidate the stamp. Unless you aren't planning to enter the contest, of course, in which case, no worries. <3

Good luck with Onora!

Arrien
Crew

7,750 Points

100

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 1:50 pm

Ah, I suspected as much. xD I'll go ahead and type that up then and shoot you a PM. Thank you, Arrien. <3

Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 6:26 pm

Ohh, looks nice! XD I wanna go to that world, now. Sounds like fun.

Definitely no worries- the stamp's well-deserved. <3

Arrien
Crew

7,750 Points

100

Offline

Pukio

Offline

Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 7:01 pm

*victory arms* Hooray! Thank you.

Welcome to Gaia! ::

Gaia Guilds

Fa'e Questers' Guild

Quick Reply

More Information