@ravenDivinity Oh he didn't actually do that it's the myths that blew it all out of proportion. In truth the nation is a city state kind of thing and was built on a volcano. Mark was able to cause it to erupt and as volcanoes can the layer of lava that erupted over time built a mountain.
Working on getting specific myths and stories right now though. I have a big over arching idea of him going and pledging to an old god of balance/nature who's basic role is to give everything it's rise and fall. Of course humans not liking the falling part stopped worshiping the god and that's why the world is so unstable in Mark's time. He starts with taking back wild lands, and after that he has more specific myths where he is defending certain sites and things as well as those of him in the wilds with those who now follow the old god again. I want this nice dichotomy where to those who aligned with him he is this folk hero who could heal a lame ox with a magic salve and that the nations remember this cold beastmaster that'd arrive under the full moon and behead the king.
It's been harder than expected to get from all my notes to solid writing. Especially when I see how great everyone else has theirs formatted. Mine is always just so plain and ugly...
@jasonwolf My formatting is basically just the formatting from the OP, if you look to the upper right of each post there's a "View Raw" button, I hit that before copy-pasting the sheet.
@Guilty Spark hmm so that's what that means. I've been doing forum RP for about a decade, but I'm rather new to this site.
@ravenDivinity I think I have it fairly clear. Need be I can easily add less dramatic explainations of the truth.
EX:
The legends are numerous. One of his first stories comes from the western coasts. A massive ironwood forest grew there the trees thousands of years old. When a kingdom began to chop them down to build an even larger navy Mark traveled there. Hundreds of men used steel axes to slowly chop away at the ancient woods. It had stood for ages to protect the land keeping it from falling into the sea. The fools didn’t even realize what they did, but for coin they didn’t care. Men began to vanish. When found again they were mauled and their axes gone. One morning all the axes were discovered piled up in the center of the lumber camp and a man standing before them in a long cloak.
“You have one chance to leave this land.” He warned, but none took head.
A flame fell from the sky and the pile exploded with fire. The man vanished into the smoke as the fire spread and consumed the men and their camp. The Ironwoods ever strong stood while everything else burned.
(The axes were soaked in oil and above Boreas held a torch. When the smoke was heavy Boreas swooped down and grabbed Mark carrying him off.)
@jasonwolf: It's not necessary to tone down the dramatic aspects of myths. What I mean is that it would do good to introduce them as myths or disputable theories.
@ravenDivinity Alright I think I just need the content then. The one I've used as example is the only one I have finished of the tales that might be told. I have the starting Myth of him basically restoring wilderness as a less detailed part as it's very long term slow and repetitive. He'd go to a fort in the wilderness force them out and set up a town for those who would follow the old god so on and so forth.
I'm trying to come up with a good scenario for him helping those in the wilds right now.
Ok so I'm still working. I need to put down the abilities and have more for the myths I just need to see it here. Makes it much easier to work for me.
N A M E / A L I A S Markiel Harrir and his owl Boreas Nature’s Arbiter
M Y T H O L O G Y
Markiel Harrir was born to Talor and Madgry Harrir in the small village of Belorook. Nestled at the bottom of the Grand Rook mountains in the far north east of the Kingless Land, a territory with a great many dangers and little rewards for any empire to bother with. For the people who did live there it had many treasures: every man was his own, everyone was there together not apart, and so long as you were alive you were free.
Belorook was actually one of the larger settlements it consisted of three extended families: the Harrir, the Calus, and the Byuk. They all lived in a collection of lodges connected by interior bridges to keep people inside as much as possible. The territory was dangerously cold in the winter forcing the families to spend the entire time inside. everything that could ever be needed was inside the collection of structures, from the mill to the forge.
The brief summers were Mark’s favorite time. Summer was hunting season. Everyone was assigned a job at birth for what the village needed. There was never discontent, though mostly because of the lack of other options. You either were satisfied or adored your job. Mark was the latter. Trained in two kinds of bows and three kinds of crossbows Mark knew plenty about taking down the creatures all around him. What he was still to learn was how to tame them. His family was known for their use of falconry to collect small game quickly, and of course as the next hunter in the family he was trained in it aswell.
The first rite for falconry training among the Harir is a simple test to see if you can train a winter chickadee. Its a simple task over all, but tests patience more than anything. Mark tried to show off by training multiple, but in the end only one listened, and possibly only because he left a biscuit in his pocket. It was enough though, and taught Mark just how important focus is. From here out he only worked with one bird. His first, and only, falcon was Juro. Raising him from a fledgeling Mark adored his bird.
Sadly Juro was not long for the hunt. After an accident that injured his wing Juro was forced to remain grounded. Mark cared for the bird until it died of old age. Mark wasn’t quite the same since. Juro was more than a pet. He was a partner. Without him what kind of falconeer was he?
His family recommended he train a new falcon, but Mark simply couldn’t do it. He spent fourteen years with Juro, only six of which we hunting. He would not dishonor Juro’s memory by replacing him with another falcon. He did know he needed a new partner though.
Now in his mid twenties Mark was a grown man, and decided to finally seek out a new bird to join him. All summer he searched for a raptor fit for him, but nothing spoke to him. The falcons and hawks reminded him too much of Juro, and the rare eagles were too proud to train well. When winter set in, and the birds vanished from the forest Mark had an idea. Only one bird dared stay through the terrible winters of the north. One raptor that soared above all others. An owl whose call echoed through the darkest hours of the blizzards at night. A White Rend Owl.
As soon as spring began to show Mark packed up and headed into the mountains in desperate search of the prized bird. Eggs would be close to hatching or there would already be fledglings to take. The only problem was the mother, or worse the father. Both parents of White Rends mate for life and take entire mountains as territory. Between the two nothing can force them out.
If Mark didn’t find the nest while the parents were away he’d be torn apart and fed to the fledglings he was searching for. Mark trekked all over the mountains hiding away as much as he could. The stories said that White Rends would happily grab up anything in their territory, and Mark had no reason to distrust his ancestors. The good news was that owls tend to hunt at night. When he found the nest in the middle of the day unattended he was pleased, but terrified. There were three plump fluffy squeaking birdies in the nest.
He took a deep breath and scooped up a baby boy placing it into a satchel filled with straw he has prepared earlier. Mark was quick to leave hoping the parents didn’t know how to count. When he finally returned to the village over a month later his actions were met with both amazement and scorn. An entire month without one of the best hunters had put the village behind its quota for food, but the sheer idea of a White Rend Owl being seen and not eating anyone was a sight to see.
Mark began immediately to work with the owl but it was slow progress. The Owl was different from the other birds in a number of ways. He was already as big as Juro was fully grown first off, and Boreas, as he was named, was much more finicky. Boreas would rather hop around the ground ignoring Mark than train. He’d happily take any food Mark tried to train him with before mark even got it ready by jumping and grabbing it out of his hand.
It took years, but eventually Boreas began to grow into the most terrible of hunters. Between Mark’s decades of experience and Boreas’ instinct being combined by the totemic bond the two were almost too strong. The hunt began menial and uninteresting. A White Rend taking on a pathetic deer with the guidance of a Harrir hunter was childs play. After making peace with his family he headed to the south seeking a more glorious hunt.
His efforts were rewarded with many grand stories and prizes from beasts of all sorts. These trinkets are used as his badge of honor to prove his worth to anyone questioning him, and any remaining disbelief is silenced when he whistles for Boreas.
A neutral man with such power was a dangerous thing. While Mark intended to spend his life on a grand hunt there were others who sought to employ his skills. In some cases Mark was happy to help. Villages in need of food, towns stalked by monsters, and such were common tasks he’d fulfill, but as his fame grew kings and noblemen wanted his abilities for less valorous intentions. He refused them all dedicated only to himself and his owl. While his own morality let him help those in need he wasn’t a mercenary. The only higher power he cared for were the forces of nature.
With Markiel getting into his forties life was beginning to slow. His hair showed gray, and soon he’d have to end his days on the hunt. The world was breaking into ever greater chaos, and Mark knew he would grow old watching as nature fell to man’s arrogance. He decided that another option must be taken. He treked north beyond the nations, beyond the wilds, and into the unknown. His people’s legends told of a shrine one to an old god one that men scorned. The god was one of balance. He raised and lowered the world sowing and culling life. Man scorned balance in favor of power and left the god. In the frozen void of the north lands Markiel found his shrine and stood before a grand idol made of every material known to man. He fell before it a solemn vow in his heart. To be an Arbiter one who could decide the fate of man as nature would.
The ground shook and vines erupted from the floor and grew up the walls. Even in the frozen wastes a garden grew. The Idol was wrapped in vines before crumbling. The plants pulled away revealing a black bladed sword that Mark held aloft. Mark felt magics course through him.
From here the myths began.
In the midst of night a stranger would walk into town a black falchion used as a walking stick. Above him soared a massive owl ever silent. He’d call out to the people that Nature had come for it’s kingdom, and that all who joined it would harvest it’s bounties. This is how the crusade started. Every King sought to expand his land into the wilds while Mark pushed them back. The forces of nature consuming cities in his wake. The lowly people that followed his teachings took to the land living in peace.
His acts did not go unnoticed. Kings sent legions after him knights and soldiers by the hundreds. All marched into the wilds never to return. After decades of campaigns to take territory back Mark decided that the Wilds were again at balance in the north. There was a short peace before Mark was needed again.
The kings always wanted to try and disturb the balance. Though the wilds were a kingdom for nature it was not the only place it’s power was great. Long ago when the earth was shaped gifts were given to the world for all men to use in times of need. Now corrupted by greed they sought to use them for selfish gains.
The legends are numerous. One of his first stories comes from the western coasts. A massive ironwood forest grew there the trees thousands of years old. When the kingdom began to chop them down to build an even larger navy Mark traveled there. Hundreds of men used steel axes to slowly chop away at the ancient woods. It had stood for ages to protect the land keeping it from falling into the sea. The fools didn’t even realize what they did, but for coin they didn’t care. Men began to vanish. When found again they were mauled and their axes gone. One morning all the axes were discovered piled up in the center of the lumber camp and a man standing before them in a long cloak.
“You have one chance to leave this land.” He warned, but none took head.
A flame fell from the sky and the pile exploded with fire. The man vanished into the smoke as the fire spread and consumed the men and their camp. The Ironwoods ever strong stood while everything else burned.
Mark would always return to the wilds. The people there needed him as much as the world did beyond. He was sage and sentinel. A guardian for the people always there to help. He would wander the wilds tending to all his people Boreas’ shadow a blessing rather than an omen. Stories tell of him carrying herbs for all ailments, hunting monsters that plagued the people, and how he was larger than life.
None could ever capture Nature’s Arbiter. He plagued kings foolish enough to cross him. In time some accepted his presence and lived in begrudging harmony. Not all accepted the peace though. A cruel warlord came up with a plan to take the wilds and their great bounty for himself. He began to clear forests and dam rivers throughout the lands he ruled and this gained Mark’s attention. The arbiter spent months fighting in the the warlord’s lands. All the while in the north the warlord marched troops into the wilds. When Mark returned he found a grand castle city. The people of the wild were enslaved to work the land around it. Mark refused to let the castle stand. He called to his people and the beasts of the wilds. All sieged the city, but could not break it. It fell to Mark and Boreas alone. The two took to the skies and infiltrated the palace at the center and massacred the warlord’s forces. Soon he came face to face with the bloodthirsty monarch. The two did battle, but neither could take the upper hands. It would not be long before Mark was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the warlord’s forces.
“You seek glory through blood. Then let me grant you the greatest memorial.”
Mark thrust his sword into the ground and summoned all the strength his god gave him. The hill upon which the castle was built shook violently. The stones began to crack and fire pour from them. The people of the wilds were safe outside of the city, but all who followed the warlord were trapped inside their impenetrable fort. The sky was black with smoke and all watched as fire poured out and filled the castle. Mark knelt before his sword knowing he had given his very life force to awaken the volcano. Boreas landed besides him and the two were sealed in ash their final vision that of the warlord burning with his empire. The volcano grew into a great mountain and is memorialized not to the warlord, but to Markiel. A man of nature and a man of the people. Hero to the humble, plague to the proud.
The wilds have never been the same life is dangerous up there and they find themselves pushed farther north to stay free from the other nations. None forget the arbiter. His presence is always seen in the open free lands, his voice heard in the calls of birds, and his hope in the hearts of all his kin.
A P P E A R A N C E
Mark stands at six foot three and maintains a posture like his trained owl leaning forward, but keeping his head up and scanning the area. Unlike his bird his amber eyes are kept as slits focused on one point rather than taking everything in. Mark’s face has particularly sharp features and a rather short bent down nose, possibly caused by a good punch to the face. Adorning his head is a mop of rich brown hair, which he puts into a ponytail when working and leaves be when not. Mark allows facial hair to grow around his chin, but does not maintain a mustache.
Mark is built decently well from his multiple career paths. Many a long day spent training his birds as a child gave a great endurance in running after them and an appreciation for being able to climb the trees they’d rest in. His right arm has a large number of scars and scratches on it from all the many birds who decided to test his arm guard’s thickness, as well as a few more from other incidents.
Mark wears rather plain clothes most of the time as he’s rarely ever the one to be in close quarters combat if any. Just a Dark brown tunic, pants, and boots. When he’s expecting combat to be involved he will don a simple set of studded leather. What you will almost always see Mark wearing is his falconry gear. Most obvious is the large leather glove on his right arm that extends past his elbow to supply enough area for Boreas’ talons. He keeps anything else he needs in either his satchel, or his bandoleer.
Boreas has a mostly white and gray plumage with his wing tips being the darkests and it fading to white as it gets closer to his center. Boreas is a semi-rare species of owl known as a White Rends Owl. They aren’t too uncommon, but live in the more remote areas of the north or atop mountains. They earned their name through their claws terrible ability to rend flesh of anything is pleases. Unlike normal owls who catch a lot of small prey the White Rend Owl is a big game hunter killing deer, caribou, and even moose. It will even take on wolves, cougars, and bears if it thinks it has a chance. With a ten foot wingspan and feet around the size of a human hand, not counting the four inch talons on each of its four toes per foot, the White Rends Owl is highly capable of surprising prey in the dark of night with eight deep incision to the back of the neck in an attempt to grab the spine and break it.
Another key evolution of the Rend owl is its ability to fly with wings only out half way. The massive wingspan allows much faster flight, but harms it’s maneuverability in tight quarters. To counter this the Owl has four joints in its wing instead of three. By holding the first section of its limb in it can use the other three like a normal bird would reducing its wingspan to about six foot. All of this is set on a body about the size of a three foot tall barrel. As strange as it seems though Boreas only weighs about twenty five pounds. A normal great horned is only about three for scale.
The Myths would have you believe Mark was a beast of a man able to push a tree over with a breath and breaking stones with one hand. Some even made him older and a sort of sage, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. Boreas is sometimes exaggerated to be the size of a Roc, but again the owl is only about four feet tall. More often than not Mark is depicted as some mysterious man who would arrive from the woods and drive off the wicked before vanishing again.
A B I L I T I E S / E Q U I P M E N T
Mark is a master of hunters. He has hunted some of the greatest beasts using only his skill and partner. With this comes a great knowledge of monsters: how to fight them and what can be done with them afterwards being the core of his insight. Many of his belongings are trophies of his hunts.
Mark main weapon is his falchion. a long black blade with the elegance of a sword and brute power of an axe. On occasion he has even used it with only one hand, but prefers to use both for the five foot blade.
He is trained with many kinds of bows and crossbows as well as knives, but he has not retained any. (He’ll probably pick some up as soon as he can).
Receiving the old god’s blessing gave him two main gifts. First was an extended life so that he could not die to the passing of time. This vitality has locked Mark into his prime keeping him as an apex predator among men.
The second was to control nature. Through rituals he can commune with nature and command it to his will. Each act has a ritual to scale with it. He can commune with beasts, especially birds, with almost no effort. At the same time he could command a tidal wave, but would require special totems and signs to cause such a thing. The greater the act the harder it is to cause, the rarer the ingredients needed, and the more energy it saps from Mark. As the conduit of the old gods power Mark must channel all the energy needed to cause these events. He can only hold oh so much safely. At great cost to himself, either horrible injury and pain up to death, he can call forth the power without rituals, but the only time used this was at his end when he caused the tremor that awoke the volcano under him.
Is this open for those you didn't mention? Either way, I got ahead of myself and started xD
The Cursed Warrior
N A M E / A L I A S
Éamon Ó Briain
The Valiant Defender | The Cursed Warrior | The Protector of Death
M Y T H O L O G Y
The tale of Eamon was a simple tale, that through the passing of time has been told sometimes as a children's tale. As it would begin with the birth of a wonderful baby boy whose parents would come to name their child Eamon, born long ago in a kingdom has disappeared through the sands of time. But unfortunately, they were only simple folks and those dreams on living in a castle would never come true and accepted the harsh fact as their every day life. Despite their positions in life, they still raised their son Eamon as the best they could provide and continued at their attempts to bring more children into the family but the attempts were futile with only Eamon to be their only child.
With their baby boy growing, they could not be proud as they watched him become a handsome young man who helped around with his father's job and his mother's chores when he had the time. They watch him as he was turning into a reliable and young man who was surprisingly mature for his age, and worked hard until one day everything washed down the drain. His family knew about their situation but failed to stop it as they fell into debt after the loss of his father's job and inability to obtain a new one. Before long, they soon were taken in and thrown into jail for not paying their taxes that were collected every month for living in their kingdom. Leaving Eamon to fend for himself in the world, he promised himself that he would free his mother and father from their imprisonment and joined the army at the young age of 14. While he lacked experienced his body was already toned and athletic on top of his willingness to learn and youth as he has the entirety of his life still ahead of him.
He over the years often visited his family as he was still in the army, collecting money that he earned from the army and at the age of 16 he paid the fees that were owed. Setting his family free he technically had no reason to stay in the army anymore but made the excuse of providing for his family until they could get back on their own feet which was quite plausible. In reality, Eamon loved the trill of battle and was learning quickly in the art of being a warrior honing his instincts and body to become accustomed to it. From there Eamon grew into a talented warrior of the kingdom, and by the age of 18 he had already begun to being second to none in terms of pure skill with the spear and could hold off against his senior knights.
His talent was known through the Festival of Arms which was a event in the kingdom where the royal family and the army would rejoice and have a tournament to determine who was the strongest competitor. As Eamon, easily defeated his peers and teammates before the tournament was grated down to the senior knights who were participating and Eamon himself, being the youngest competitor in the tournament still in the event. The tournament continued until 4 competitors were left, which included Eamon and three other senior knights before the 4 were thrown into a free-for-all leaving the 4 warriors to fight against each other in the effort to show who was the most skilled. The most obvious solution for the competitors was to unfairly team up against the 'weakest' competitor which was presumed to be Eamon who was the youngest but perhaps the reason for teaming up against Eamon was perhaps he was truly strong enough to intimidate his opponents. But besides that, it was a widely accepted tactic for the tournament to show the 4th competitor's skill before they were usually taken down, as the two knights charged at him from his left and right side. Taking on both of her senior knights, he defended himself blocking both of their swords near simultaneously, deftly keeping his defense tight and strong wasting nothing as he slowly but surely pushed them back. Surprising his seniors from his young blossoming skill, he continued to push them back intimidating him with his tenacity on holding the two of them at bay and even pushing them back. Distracted with his two opponents in front of him, he turned against the third senior knight, who came from behind him and managed to hold off all three knights for the moment. However he knew that defending himself would get him nowhere, before disengaging using his flexibility and agility to escape the situation to outside the triangle. Escaping from the three man attack, Eamon quickly dispatched the knight closest to him before tripping up the second with his spear and fighting the third straight on. Ending the tournament in ablaze with Eamon as the winner.
After the surprising victory of Eamon, the King awarded their newest and youngest victor with something worthy and meaningful for his valiant effort. Giving him the spear Gáe Dearg, a crimson spear enchanted with magic but its ability was unknown as none where capable of wielding it with enough skill to truly use it. Also another gift to offer Eamon they wished for him the privilege to marry their daughter, and so he did. His Captain was espically proud of Eamon, who cared and trained the young victor since he was young and too left him a gift of congratulations. His captain's gift was in the from of another spear Gáe Buidhe, a golden spear that was too enchanted with magic but similarly his captain was given the spear as he was once a victor as well but was unable to wield it and did not want to shamefully use such a beautiful weapon in experienced hands. Life after the tournament was well, and both the royal family was proud to see who wed their daughter, while Eamon's family were proud for their son to reaching new heights they thought were impossible.
Thus, is where the children's tale if there was ever any to end. Historical texts specifically recording the legend of the tournament fighter Eamon, knew about the fate of that kingdom for no Colosseum of great size would leave some sign of its construction even if it was long, long ago. It is said that the kingdom which Eamon lived in was thrown into war shortly after, disrupting the tournament fighter's peaceful life. Forcing him to once again as a sense of duty to help protect the kingdom and fight so he could protect both of their families. Eamon was never a tragedy in war, historian can say for a fact as several entries state that the young warrior who was the age of 20 at the time was an intimidating opponent and ally. His speed and agility was incomparable to the rest of the army, as blurred colors of red and yellow spears danced across the battle field quickly ending the lives of the invading force. The red spear of Gáe Buidhe was said to wound the opponents and bled them until they died as magical healing could not restore the wounds from the spear for it removed cause and left only effect. Leaving his opponents considered at full health while having the wounds of the Yellow Spear of Morality making healing magic ineffective on the wounds. While the crimson spear of Gáe Dearg pierced through the magic of those who used them capable of severing any projection with magical energy, capable of piercing through enchantments and barriers. Forcing his opponents to defend only by their own physical means, allowing him to pierce through anything magical rendering them ineffective.
The dance of Red and Yellow was a beautiful sight, but deadly as Eamon slew who dared proceeded further to their kingdom as he was unbeatable by mere men who were either drafted or care little about their training. But inevitably the opposing army pressed Eamon back as the forces were simply too much in numbers which overwhelmed the rest of the forces. Defending the gates by himself, he slowly was pushed back by the numbers but with each step he took dozens more were slain. This process continued to an entire day, with bodies littered in a path slowly leading to the castle walls which Eamon's focus and resolve still strong and sturdy as he willed himself to fight on despite his fatigue. Then it come again as anther day with relentless troops thrown at Eamon, and he too was forced back once more slaying more people for every step he took back until he bumped his back against the walls of the castle. Fearing the result of what happen if he let the forces through he too continued to fight with fatigue and stress clouding his mind, he used his bare instincts to keep himself alive and managed to survive the day but his impenetrable defense with the use of his two spears of Red and Yellow was broken.
The 2nd night of the war, Eamon was given some rest as the hordes of soldiers were going to be saved for the next day most presumably. So, Eamon wondered through the castle until his wife found him bloodied and worn who she tended to the next few hours before it would start all over again. Escape was futile when the walls of the kingdom were surrounded by enemy forces, the only thing he could hope for was to outlast them. Promising his love that she'll be safe, Eamon left once more at the notice of a scout and went towards the gates once more. Wounds and Fatigue still plagued the talented spear man but he did not waver nor show his weakness for he had something to protect and he will defend it with all his might even if it included taking his own life. At the end of the day, the wounds were deeper and plentiful, the creeping chains of exhaustion dragging him down and the aches of his body surpassing its limits everyday burned him. It was obvious they were doomed the next day, but still Eamon denied the outrageous end that they might received in bitter tears before he went to guard the gates once more. The fourth and final day, Eamon simply could not do it, as upon noon his two spears of crimson and gold pierced the earth as he glared menacingly at the enemies, before long darkness overtook him.
Four Days he had lasted, wasn't it enough? Wasn't it his best effort to save those that he loved? Simply the answers to the question was No.
Gripping the two spears in his hands, he wielded the two spears as they glowed a menacing light as redish marking appeared on Eamon. They were the glowing color of dead autumn leaves which was the colors of the two spears as it signaled the cycle of death to soon come as winter will freeze cover soon the beautiful colors of red and yellow. But after winter, the dead colors of red and yellow would bring birth to the colors of life which is something that Eamon could not do. All he could do was paved the road that was required for that path and so he continued his duty to struggle against the masses of enemies. Death will have to wait for Eamon's as his hourglass was broken, the sands of time began to flow out as he was burning his soul and passion to live longer for this moment. Wielding his spears with pure intent of killing them, this was the events of the 4th day where the opposing army left for they discarded 4 days worth of men trying to invade a small kingdom but what they lost was far greater, or so they thought. Not wishing his love to see what he had done to himself, he quickly wrote a note to her to see and gave a simple knock at her door before he disappeared.
The Autumn Marking glowed dully at the sign of the end of the season and with his two spears, he disappeared in the wind as Death greeted him. He was awed at 'her' figure which she choose to be a woman, for her name was simply Death. She never made it clear whether she was a god or merely a concept that humanity created. Either way, Eamon smiled to her as she would be his companion and he would be hers for the Spear of Mortality and Exorcism would be united by is master and its creator. What is presumed afterward of the soul of Eamon is that Death had made the spear man's soul as her companion for sacrificing his own potential, as he saved the lives of those whose worth was inferior to the spear man. The last part while seemingly ambiguous it was the report of Eamon's wife which gives this ending some truth or perhaps it was her own delusion, we may never know.
Reports over the centuries have claimed a man who wields spears the same color of Crimson Roses and Golden Yellow flowers have been spotted in populated places where undead gather and necromancer been known to have gathered. His presence has rid the area of undead and whoever was causing the disturbance, but the identity of whoever cleansed the areas have never been recorded nor identified besides the colors of the spears. The only evidence of the legendary spears being seen are the bones and dead body of the necromancer who lay defeated in the appearance of them.
A P P E A R A N C E
The appearance of Eamon was quite accurate, as he was described as a noble looking man and even as a body when born made his parents doubt themselves that he was really their baby. For when he grew up his features were fine and was generally considered handsome by the women most of the time. Dark black hair and having a hard cut mouth marks him and gives a stoic air around him. Having a real pleasant smell around him if you were to approach him and simply stand next to him as well.
But after the death of Eamon, his appearance tremendously changed as after death his dark black hair was turned into a uneasy gray. While his eyes turned silent and emotionless hiding whatever he was feeling underneath him, giving him again a stoic air around him like before but more uneasily and eerie than before. Having the Mark of Autumn tattooed onto him, it appears on the entirety of his body and even his clothes that he wears as like decorated blood stains. In generally, you get an uncomfortable feeling from Eamon but you feel strangely comfortable next to him or behind him if not intimidated beforehand by his appearance.
A B I L I T I E S / E Q U I P M E N T
The two gifted spears of Autumn are Gáe Buidhe: Yellow Rose of Mortality and Gáe Dearg: Crimson Rose of Exorcism they are both created by the entity known as Death. Whether she is an god or something entirely else, no one really knows but it is presumed that she is an higher entity on a similar level of Gods.
The Yellow Rose of Mortality or Gáe Buidhe, is clearly expanded in its myth as it has the ability to inflict wounds incapable of being healed, for it leaves the effect and removes the cause. This principle can be explained as healing magic would heal whatever 'caused' the wounds, while the wounds themselves would be the 'effect'. It is a simple form of time magic if you wish to call it as that, as it removes whatever attack was used to do the infliction of the wound and simply leaves the wounds there. If higher magic is used to entirely remove the 'effect' entirely making it simply disappear from time then that too is a possible way to reverse the curse. In more scientific terms, the body registers the wounds as being already part of the body, since the infliction of the wound never happens it perceives the wound as something already there with nothing bad to signal the body to do anything. The curse of Gáe Buidhe is capable of being dispelled by destroying the spear itself, reverting the effects and healing its victims to full health when done so.
The Crimson Rose of Exorcism, or also known as Gáe Dearg on the other hand, is the lesser known spear that was never fully used in the battle with Eamon but it is said that the Crimson Spear is capable of piercing through magical projections and sever them making magical enchantments and barriers break down in the most simplest of terms. However, it should be known that crimson spear in incapable of breaking down complete magic such as magically binding contracts in the past or curses already inflicted on poor souls but can suppress their effects with the tip of Gáe Dearg. Eamon during the last few hours of his life was granted a special tattoo called 'The Mark of Autumn' which spread throughout his body as he burned his soul for more energy. Its latent powers still remain as it gives Eamon increased stamina, strength and speed but its true use will never be capable of being used. As Eamon's soul is something not even a god can repair once shredded for to repair and replicate the original soul of such a person with power like Eamon, would require more power and time than the God resurrecting him had time to do so. If the mark should be used, it presumed that Eamon would be disintegrated immediately for the amount of his soul he still has left in him is insignificant.
Outside of our hero's armaments, Eamon was known to be a skilled combatant and wasn't afraid to use dirty underhand tactics when needed. Being a youthful and young soul in his prime around the age of 20, his body was at its peak where he obtained speed and agility that was at the peak of human potential but after death it went beyond the peak of human capability being faster than any human capable of being. While his endurance and tenacity was also a noticeable trait from his legend, that he was capable of defending a castle for 4 days before finally stumbling into the arms of death. But not before making a last-ditch effort into defending what he treasured making him quite willful to defy and even amuse Death herself to giving the Spearman a chance. The least noticeable ability was his strength which may have been lacking in flashy example, but he was still capable of wielding two spears of different length and fight using both of them without problem while still being deadly. Capable of blocking two swords of older and stronger men whose stature were bigger than him it also is an example of his seemingly unnoticeable strength which is outshined by his agility making his attacks look weak.
His prowess and experience as a warrior is also noticeable when he was capable of defending his two senior knights and was capable of pushing them back before finally holding against three knights on his own. Knowing that he would be defeated if he simply defended, he used his smarts to distrupt the flow of battle and take them all down individually. Also in the battle to defend the castle, he is also shown to be capable of taking out multiple opponents and never wasting a single action for every step he takes he makes sure something worthy comes out of it. Showing that Eamon was an expierence warrior, capable of observing the flow of battle and leading to the most suitable outcome possible. While not part of his legend, under the teaching of Death herself who pity the warrior for his potential being wasted decided to train the young man to be her companion and guardian. Training Eamon to fight necromancers basically who disturbed the naturally flow of life, he was taught the basics of magic and how to detect the most noticeable signs of magic being used beside it being fired at you. Learning much more about runic magic and its capabilities, Death pleasantly taught him so that her trusty knight wouldn't so easily be destroyed when she sent him out. Being a very capable Runic Mage, using his latent magical prowess and knowledge to create clever chains of runes to create interesting effects. All this training Death done was for making Eamon her executioner for the souls of the dead who suffer from those who are living and manipulating them, however, he only is sent out when an undead problem gets too serious otherwise it is left alone. It was a mutial relationship, where he learned and in exchanged tested it out by serving Death.
@LancerOfBlue: Yeeeeah, the mention bomb isn't supposed to be like "oh, there's a set number of spots and they belong to these people," it's more like "these people expressed interest and i'm letting them know about the thread being posted." So, yeah, it's still open to join. Maybe I should've made it a little more obvious.
D A E N / T H E U N R A V E L L E R / T R U T H S E E K E R
M Y T H O L O G Y
Lost Exerpt from "The Stuff Of Legend: Volume 2" This exerpt was recovered by an expedition of students from Modal's School of Scholarly pursuits who were traveling up the eastern mountains to study the stout plant life that clings there. Originally scribed by the Renowned scholar Amadaeus Brigs, this excerpt is thought to be the last piece Brigs ever wrote.
The Truthseeker: Perhaps one of, if not the least well known legend of Ansus, The Truthseeker was a particularly difficult topic of study. Recommended to me by a strange man at a pub with a tall hat and brown-grey gloves of odd material, The Truthseeker was alluded to in a variety of placed. He was often described as a force of nature rather than a man. Direct information, however, was impossible to find. After spending countless nights awake with my nose firmly planted in between the pages of some journal or yet another volume of "Notable Names of History" (of which there were forty-two, upon the publishing of this informative piece. Although I have no doubt the number reaches somewhere in the hundreds at the time of your reading this) I find that The Truthseeker appears a total of zero times.
So then, my dear reader, you may be wondering how it is that I came about this information at all. Well, I am firmly under the impression that the author of "Notable Names of History" (one Arthur Samine) is biased rapscallion who frankly smells of week old cheese. He finds it more scholarly to only pursue the most readily available information, and therefore I declare him to be not a scholar, but rather a mummer. I expect this informative piece to relegated to the back room of some dusty storehouse for such direct insult, and commend you highly for digging it out again! You shant be sorry for your search, however. Because as I have told you, I possess knowledge the general public does not! So then, on to the actual information!
Once again introduced: The Truthseeker. Known by both this name and also as "The Unraveller" (for good reason, as you will come to see) was a marvel which none other in my searches has been able to match. While there are indeed others with greater physical strength or spiritual prowess. The power of The Truthseeker was absolutely unique. For he was, at the time, the one and only disciple of the Minor Deity, Seavus, The god of truth.
Packing my sizeable collection of written knowledge for a trip into the far eastern mountains was quite the task in itself. So when I saw the sheer climb that awaited me, a gracious innkeeper charged me nearly all my limbs (a figure of speech, dear reader) to store my collections. Three days hike later, and twice nearly falling to my untimely doom at the hands of none other than the infamous gravity, I was presented with a small shrine nestled into the high reaches of a lone peak. There, bound to the raised dais by incomprehensible magics, sat a tattered book. Try as I might, I could not remove the tome (it was quite cold upon the peak, and I had no intention of setting up for a study, but that was what I was driven too). And now my dearest and most avid reader, I recount to you the words I extracted from the tome that nearly had my fingers frozen to my charcoal on half a dozen occasions.
Page 1 of the Book of Truth:
Three pages thee, o' seeker, from this book you may choose.
What truths you seek shall not be found unless you have sought before.
Choose wisely o' seeker.
Three pages? Surely there must have been hundreds, but I could choose only three. I was not prepared for the stress this brought upon me. Being such a avid seeker of knowledge, I spent days decoding what I could of this book. Trying to determine what would be stored where before I made my choice. My success was extremely limited. I decided to forge on, the first page I would choose would be twenty-five. I had no particular reason for this, but without a reference of how the knowledge might be ordered, I had to start somewhere.
Page 25 of The Book of Truth:
My dearest Disciple: By black will you fall. By white will you rise. Four times of four, you shall be your own guide.
Upon your return, I shall grant you this In order to strike, at first must you miss.
And perhaps one more, for loyalty's sake. To reclaim what you've found, you first must unmake.
This page was, I soon found, a message to The Truthseeker, or, for the sake of not mixing up the "seeker" as the reader is called in The Book of Truth, I shall call the Truthseeker by the name I found on the next page I opened. Daen. I must say that I considered myself rather luck-struck to come across a second page referring to that which I was seeking. But then I thought of the riddle on the first page once more: What truths you seek shall not be found unless you have sought before. Well, I had indeed sought knowledge of Daen before, when I searched the libraries of the east and west alike. So perhaps it was not luck, but rather the intervention of divinity. I thought briefly if I could perhaps trick this being, or magic, or whatever it was that was guiding my choices. But thought better of it rather quickly. After all, I was getting what I had come for, so why try my hand and throwing that askew? My next choice was fifty-eight.
Page 58 of The Book of Truth
O' seeker you fall with droplets of rain I now for thee, the tales of Daen:
For the convenience of my dear readers, I have deciphered the rather long winded rhyming tales that were then perilously crammed onto this single page.
The miasma of Oaxum: Any reader of the aforementioned "Notable Names of History" knows of the famous battle between the (now fragmented) western nation of Roania and the (now extinct) Peoples of Neamia, who lived in villages that bordered the northern deserts nearly forty-thousand years ago. In an attempt to bring the Neamian peoples under the rule of the king of Roania (who's name has been lost to history) a culling was to be performed. The Roanian military was to scatter twelve villages to the wind as a threat of extinction to the Neamians. The culling was carried out with both swiftness and brutality. But instead of falling in line as the Roanian king had hoped, the Neamians retaliated fiercely. They were hunted and systematically slaughtered for their rebelliousness. But not before taking a sizeable chunk of the Roanian empire out with what was, for the next ten thousand years, referred to as the Miasma of Oaxum. The miasma was nearly fifty kilometers across, and how this plague of toxicity was created is unknown. But within the rhymes of The Book of Truth, I found how it was eventually dispersed. Daen, holding what is referred to in the book as the "seed of truth" dispersed the miasma to the winds of time. Dispelling the toxic wastelands that had been impassable for ten millenia in a matter of hours.
The book does not mention what exaclty the "seed of truth" is. But it does refer to it as shiny and reflective. With this in mind I can make an assumption that it was some sort of gem.
The Strait of Imenis: It was quite surprising to me that I had never heard this tale before. It was always rumored that a great evil once blocked the strait of Imenis, preventing trade and information being passed across the sliver of land that separates the Gray Lake north of Kolantis. It was thought that the magic binding the creature there had eroded over time (the same was thought of the Miasma of Oaxum). The evil is described in the book as blacker than any starless night. Formless and thoughtless except for a veil of killing fury. None who attempted to ever cross the Strait survived. It is said that, using his great mind and guided personally by an aspect of Seavus (which, I might mention, is said by the book later as "my aspect". This leads me to the magnificent yet somehow troubling revelation that this book was created directly by the will of the lesser deity Seavus.) Daen outsmarted the creature, tricking it into revealing it's true nature as a magical construct formed by a blood magic ritual. He then pulled the threads of this exposed magic, guided by both the Seed of Truth and the Aspect of Saevus. The outpouring of malevolent energy that appearently escaped from the construct once it was destroyed nearly flayed Daen's mind, but he was saved by the Aspect of Saevus. Who, in order to save him, removed one of Daen's eyes and replaced it with the Seed of truth.
The Mark of the Seeker: The third and final tale squeezed onto the page was by far the most interesting. While the others had shown Daen's prowess at defensive and cognitive abilities, they had not mentioned how he retaliated against offensive magicks. The mark of the seeker, as said by the book, was the tale of Daen's final hours. The writing here gets rather cryptic, but what I did manage to decrypt about the events was this. Daen, after communion with Saevus, was told a truth none other could bare. He was appearently told of a "starless night" as the book recalls it. What exactly this means, I cannot determine. His sanity was stretched to its limits by this truth. In order to regain control of his now fleeing mind, Saevus showed Daen how he could earn the "mark of the seeker".
This would restore all his faculties and protect his mind from ever being flayed by truth again. The only other to ever earn the Mark of the seeker, says the book, was Saevus itself. How exactly a god could "earn" anything is beyond me, but by this merrit it is shown that in his final hours, Daen recieved a piece of divinity. He was by no means turned into a god. But with his obtainment of the mark of the seeker, Saevus could impart all the godly knowledge upon daen without fear of destroying his only desciple. Saevus' communion with Daen here is rushed. The book suggests that no time could be sparred, and the potential destruction of Daen's sanity had to be risked so that Saevus could impart dire knowledge on him that could appearently "prevent a starless night".
Daen then traveled into the southern Sea, to an island that (as the books says it) "was wreathed in blackest night forevermore." There are a variety of challenges that Daen faces there, several of which are more of the same magical constructs that nearly flayed his mind at the Strait of Imentis. He finds a temple of black stone perched atop the island's peak. There he manages to fight his way through the "robes of blackest night" and make it into the inner sanctum of the Black stone temple. Once within, he claims the Mark of the Seeker. Which apparently branded him with three connected circles under the seed of truth (his right eye). A trap was triggered once he claimed the mark, however, shutting him in darkness and sapping all life from him. The book ends the tales with this line.
In blackened black the seeker fell. left cold and hardened as a shell.
But from my son the dark could not take The breath of truth from his lips did escape.
I've spent most the day copying down these tales, and look forward to my third and final page on the morrow.
The excert ends here. The student expedition found his body at the base of a nearby cliff. Frozen and impaled on sharp rocks, several strange icicles emerging from his body that seemingly fell from the heavens like raindrops.
A P P E A R A N C E
In history The Unraveller was often shown not as a man, but as a force of nature. He was often symbolized as time, as time was the greatest unraveller of all. In the very few items that describe his psysical appearance, he is tall with a lithe and athletic build. Raven black hair sits atop one striking emerald green eye, and one lightly pulsing amber gem. He wears layered robes and favors an asymmetric dress on most occasions.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Nothing yet, writing in BBCode is super annoying, so I'm writing elsewhere and importing, I'll keep you all updated.
A B I L I T I E S / E Q U I P M E N T
Daen is the blessed disciple of the God of Truth, Saevus. As the Truthseeker, he has the ability to unravel the most complex magics given time. His tools allow him to do this much more quickly. In many cases he can unravel offensive magic that is used against him before it can even touch him. The unravelling process is a pitting of consciousness. And every time Daen unravels he unravels his mind slowly as well. The seed of truth mitigates the unraveling of his mind, and allows him to do the process much more quickly, but the Mark of the Seeker halts the process entirely.
The Seed of Truth: Bestowed upon him by Saevus, the seed of truth allows Daen to unravel extremely complex magic very quickly. With the Seed he dispelled the Miasma of Oaxum (see mythology) in only a few hours. Similarily, he used the seed to unravel a very old and very powerful magical construct of malice created by a ring of blood mages hundreds of years ago.
The Mark of the Seeker: Daen earned The Mark of the Seeker when he infiltrated a temple of the black. He took back what was stolen from the God of Truth. Within the inner sanctum he payed for the retrieval with his life. The Mark of the Seeker reformed Daen's mind when it was nearly torn apart after Saevus imparted the knowledge of the starless night on him. The Mark's primary power is that it prevents Daen's mind from being flayed by magic ever again. His mind cannot be broken by hearing the knowledge of the gods, however since his patron god has died, he can no longer communicate with any gods. Therefore the primary purpose of the mark is protecting his sanity during the unraveling process. He can unravel even the highest forms of magic now given the time, as he no longer has to fear he'll be torn apart.
The Pendant: Known by no other name and not mentioned in any tales of Daen, the Pendant is Daen's primary force of offensive magic. Although paltry in comparison to other offensive magical artifacts, the Pendant allows Daen to quickly create rune traps. They can vary in usage from gravity traps to fireball traps etc, they take a few moments to set and must be used in conjunction with one another to be most effective.
A G E O F L E G E N D
Roughly 30000 ago from present day
Edit: Also, @Torack your character must have a new.. Lee-se on life ;D Was that reference too obscure? We'll find out!
The Order of the Skyward Eye were essentially a group of monastic historians each of whom dedicated their lives to recording and chronicling important events that shaped Ansus' history. Being as ancient as they are, I had left it sort of open ended as to whether or not the order survived, but anyone else who wishes to have them have taken interest in delving into the history of their characters is more than welcome to do so!
I'd envisioned them as having this massive ivory tower with enough libraries to make a bookworm faint in happiness that largely kept them out of the way of mortal affairs, so it is conceivable that even after almost 50,000 years they could still be around if they had had the assistance of some strapping heroes to keep them safe!
I don't really have any more specific detail than that, but I'm happy to share the reigns around if anyone's interested in developing the concept.
