@Dead Cruiser Did you say Romania ? ^_^
Ashevelendar Linde Service Desk
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6 yrs ago
Dead Cruiser Dishonour Before Death / Better You Than Me
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3 days ago
@Dead Cruiser Did you say Romania ? ^_^
My own backwards understanding of premodern Romania, that is.
Ashevelendar Linde Service Desk
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6 yrs ago
@Dead Cruiser Where is your CS ? I would love to see it :)
PS : I'm Romanian and it would be fun to see what people say 'bout my country xD
PS : I'm Romanian and it would be fun to see what people say 'bout my country xD
GM
<Snipped quote by Footman>
Ohhh, what sort of thing could you be making?
Got a few ideas. Was thinking of an aged human emperor, whose sons had died in the first armada - leaving his bloodline heirless, and thus over after a thousand-year long lineage. Filled with rage, revenge and bitterness, he grabs his sword and amour for one last ride - at the head of the Moon Guard, a fabled multi-national regiment that serve the most illustrious leaders of the Alliance as personal body guards.
... but then I also like the idea of Dwarves driving around large tank-like contraptions powered by arcane energies (and techo-wizards), and using rifles that fire imbued ammunition. Someone needs to bring the heavy artillery after all.
But then I am known for stumbling on really cool ideas at the very last moment. I'm going out to dinner tonight (pre-wedding celebration), and whilst I'm intoxicated, it's possible I'll come up with something awesome.
Either way, I expect to throw something up tomorrow or late this evening.
EDIT: Truth be told, a lot of my energy has actually been focused on Gargth, and how he might respond to this surprise landing by the world's greatest heroes - especially after he so easily dealt with the first, and much larger force. Of course I already have an answer as to how he was so easily able to destroy the armada, but that will reveal itself in my opening IC post.
I do intend to play both Gargth (to give the players an insight into what/who he is, and what he's really up to), as well as my own champion and regiment.
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Klomster The man, the myth, the legend.
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1 mo ago
That's the kind of imagery i was thinking of @Footman.
On the actual workings of the weapon i guess i've mentioned that it's techno-arcana, so to clarify.
A wizard did it, with magic. Also steampunk.
It still probably needs focus lenses and all that jazz, but it's a magical device and not a proper laser.
And his armour isn't that much more awesome than regular plate armour. Perhaps a bit thicker.
The primary thing is that it is all encompassing, like the tournament armours of Henry VIII.
"Either way, I expect to throw something up tomorrow or late this evening."
Hearing this after you mention being intoxicated.... check.
I'll add it to the accepted characters then :)
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@Dead Cruiser Definitly a possibility.
Tatsua Aiisen The Lewd Maid
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3 yrs ago
@Footman It was not my intention that Mist would be deeply familiar with the mechanics of the Shadow Realm. It is, after all, a taboo subject for a reason. It's her job to guide spirits there, not to be a master of its lore.
That said, she would probably have a basic understanding of the mechanics of things going back and forth between the worlds, and understand the rudimentary nature of the realm. She'd know more than the others, but not even close to a lot. I thought this would be a better approach~
That said, she would probably have a basic understanding of the mechanics of things going back and forth between the worlds, and understand the rudimentary nature of the realm. She'd know more than the others, but not even close to a lot. I thought this would be a better approach~
Disciple Cain
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4 yrs ago
I've added one regiment, but my Commander is still getting work done on a few of her sections.
Weird Tales A Stranger from A Strange Outer Dimension
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4 yrs ago
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@Weird Tales Accepted
That's absoloutely fine, and in that case, you can probably gleam enough details from what is already written. Eternal twilight, swirling mists of deranged souls, and a powerful almost bottomless reserve of arcane energy, etc etc. No one really knows what its purpose is, or its nature, just that it's a baaaaaaad place that has destroyed all of those that have tried to use and abuse it... except Gargth the Fallen...
@Footman It was not my intention that Mist would be deeply familiar with the mechanics of the Shadow Realm. It is, after all, a taboo subject for a reason. It's her job to guide spirits there, not to be a master of its lore.
That said, she would probably have a basic understanding of the mechanics of things going back and forth between the worlds, and understand the rudimentary nature of the realm. She'd know more than the others, but not even close to a lot. I thought this would be a better approach~
That's absoloutely fine, and in that case, you can probably gleam enough details from what is already written. Eternal twilight, swirling mists of deranged souls, and a powerful almost bottomless reserve of arcane energy, etc etc. No one really knows what its purpose is, or its nature, just that it's a baaaaaaad place that has destroyed all of those that have tried to use and abuse it... except Gargth the Fallen...
Disciple Cain
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4 yrs ago
@Footman
Let me know what you think of what I have so far. http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3941250. Don't want to get ahead of myself on an idea that won't jive.
Let me know what you think of what I have so far. http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3941250. Don't want to get ahead of myself on an idea that won't jive.
GM
@Footman
Let me know what you think of what I have so far. http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3941250. Don't want to get ahead of myself on an idea that won't jive.
Seems fine to me. I was playing with an idea of a race of ancient robot/golem beings, and believed their appearance in this RP to be a feasible one. What you have is similar, and therefore I see no problem with them. As for your champion, the Stone Mother doesn't do anything that offends me, and I think it's quite a well rounded character.
By all means carry on, and let me know when you're done. :)
Weird Tales A Stranger from A Strange Outer Dimension
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4 yrs ago
@Footman when will we be starting?
GM
@Footman when will we be starting?
Always a good question. I guess tomorrow? I think I've given people enough time to get their shit together.
Speaking of which, I better go ahead and finish up my entry.
Klomster The man, the myth, the legend.
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1 mo ago
I am ready to bring a bit of gentlemanliness and fashion to this forsaken realm.
GM
Here's what I got so far. Now to craft the Moon Guard.
Race: Man of Rhedrinnor
Known Racial Abilities: The Men of Rhedrinnor are a bastard breed of humans, descended from the controversial mix of human and Elven blood. Though whilst Half-Elves often bear the mixed qualities and flaws of their respective parents, the Men of Rhedrinnor have become diluted to the point that they are far more human than they are Elf.
An extended lifespan, enhanced senses and a peculiar grace bless these Men. As such, they are considered superior to the average human, and this is something they flaunt at every given opportunity.
Age: 191
Renowned Skills:
- Monster Slayer: The Emperor knows his way around the world's monsters. Indeed, he spent his youth killing them, and building his reputation as a renowned hero. His monster-lore is an invaluable tool when confronting the horrors of the world.
- Broken Mind: This man is beyond fear and temptation. He has but one goal, and no magic or form of persuasion can sway him from his personal crusade. Woe to any that try. He fears neither pain nor death, and no foe, no matter its origin, can stumble his cause.
- Master Swordsman: In his youth the Emperor was a legendary warrior that few could match in toe-to-toe combat. Though he has seen many, many winters since his glory days, he is still an adversary not to be underestimated.
Magic:
- A Heroe's Luck or a Villain's Curse: There is something divine about Rainald, though he bows to no God of men. He has a bizarre luck about him, something that seems to be protecting him, preventing him from a simple death on the battlefield from some nameless adversary. Call it Fate, call it Divine Guidance, but it would seem Rainald's life has a predetermined outcome.
Weapons:
- Redeeming Edge: A large bastard sword, heavy to wield but devastating on impact. Crafted from Rhedrinnon Steel, it is near-unbreakable, and can stand against its greater cousins. It was made at short notice, by the nearest smith that could forge such a weapon, and the Emperor spared no expense in its construction. Though simple looking, it has been masterfully made.
- Wrath: The Emperor's right hand is encased in a heavy gauntlet made from four-inch thick Rhedrinnon Steel. Though it weighs him down on one side, and impedes his movement, he is able to use it as a literal wrecking ball. A favourite weapon in his younger years, it looks daft on him now, but one would be unwise to belittle an old man caught in the grip of a sorrowful rage.
Armour: Like his sword, and his gauntlet, the Emperor's plated armor is composed of Rhedrinnon steel. Whilst it makes him almost impervious to edged weaponry, it by no means absorbs solid impacts. He is a titan of ragged muscles and steel, but he is not unstoppable - especially if his aged heart can't keep up with him.
Steed: Gilden, a great Swan. White to the point of glowing, Gilden can be described as beautiful, almost heavenly. Such creatures are native to Rhedrinnon, and are vicious things in combat. Able to shoulder great weights, the Swans of Rhedrinnon make some of world's finer aerial mounts.
Bio: In his youth, the Emperor was famed across the realm of Rhedrinnor as the heroic and mighty Crown Prince. His was the very projection of Old World might and splendour; a muscled juggernaut of black steel and fearsome determination, who would march selflessly from one quest to the next, slowly curing his homeland of the evil that periodically assailed it.
From Vampire Lords to Troll Warmasters, the Crown Prince was always mercilessly quick to track down his adversaries, with a troop of his father's Moon Guard at his back, and bring his wicked prey to swift justice and retribution. All Rhedrin menfolk stood in awe as his colossal status grew with each heroic victory, and all of the Rhedrin womenfolk wished their lives away wilfully that he may grant them his favour.
The Emperor's tale of grand deeds and epic sagas of justice was not to last however, and one tragedy befell him - and his House - after another.
His father and mother were first assassinated by Blarg the Great; a dark wurm, spawned from the sin of some bastard necromancer. Blarg fired Rhedrinnor's capital, smoting the mighty metropolis in a single day, and all of the Emperor's men were powerless to stop him... all but one.
Arriving late to the battle, but just in time to see his father's Palace immolated by the wrath of Blarg, the Crown Prince screamed in rage. He surged forwards upon his mighty Swan, though his Moon Guard buckled and abandoned him in his greatest hour of need - and this mighty man thus faced one of the greatest threats that Rhedrinnor had ever known, by himself, and with no man or woman to call kin.
The Battle of the Prince and the Wurm is a song known across the Moonsong Alliance, and it elaborately relates what is perhaps the greatest feat of a traditional warrior going toe-to-toe with something beyond his ken. Though whilst the song is short and beautiful, the reality was far different. Through a mixture of chaos, luck and perhaps something more, the Crown Prince delivered a fatal strike to the wurm's black-beating heart after an hour-long running battle. Horribly burned and in great pain, the Crown Prince raced to the Palace, but found it a smoking ruin that none survived. His brothers, sisters and his parents had all perished.
It is said the Crown Prince's strength failed him at this, and he broke into a sobbing lump of charred flesh and battered armour. Indeed, it took most of his Moon Guard to finally haul him away from the fires that threatened to envelope them all.
In the aftermath of Blarg's demise, Rhedrinnor was in bad shape. Half of her royalty and gentry had been obliterated by Blarg's fire, and the capital - and the seat of Rhedrinnor's power and wealth - lay in blazing ruins. For centuries the country had stood as a bastion of strength, and in a single day, and at the whim of a necromancer, its heart had been torn out; a mortal wound seemingly dealt.
Taking his Imperial Crown, Rainald wasted no time in launching the Necromantic Inquisition. What followed was a brief dark age, and the start of the Emperor's bloodiest chapters. Thousands of citizens from across the Rhedrinnor Empire were imprisoned and tortured to death on the merest suspicion that they harboured dealings with the necromantic arts. The Inquisiton would go on for some years, until Rainald finally relented in his fruitless search for the bastard that had summoned Blarg, and brought death to both his kingdom and his House.
With the bodies of his Inquisition's victims still warm, the Emperor was forced to confront a sudden and destructive Orcish revolt from Rhedrinnor's southern-most provinces. Enraged that his subjects would attempt to gain leverage whilst their country was reeling from Blarg's assault, the Emperor immediately rallied his armies and marched to meet the rebels.
Though out numbered six to one by the Orcish hordes, Rainald triumphed in a string of crushing victories, that saw the rebel forces collapse. Outraged at their hubris and their disrespect, Rainald made it illegal for Orcs to live in Rhedrinnor, and given that they could not simply move to another nation, he was effectively giving his nobles, commanders and other leaders of men all the permission they needed to move in and exterminate their Orc subjects - and take their lands for themselves.
And as Rainald's genocide raged in the south, the northern provinces succumbed to yet another Troll invasion from the Arcan Mountains. Gathering his battered army, the Emperor travelled north, and gave battle at Arcton City. He was again victorious, and his increased bloodlust led him to mount a horrific campaign in the Troll's home territories. The Arcan Mountains wailed for months with the screams of Troll children and women.
Horrified by Rainald's increasing brutality, something that had never been endorsed by his forefathers, the nobles of the Empire, and the Senators and the Prefects all mounted their own rebellion. Rainald came forth from the Mountains ahead of an army that had come to worship him, who saw him as something more than just a man; he was something terrible and divine, but also something mighty that had to be followed unto death.
The civil war wrecked the Empire's central heartlands, and lasted decades, until finally Rainald was able to fire the last rebel city - 50,000 men, women and children trapped and burned alive. He emerged from the rebellion mad, and broken. He had killed so many of his own countrymen, that he did not recognise himself anymore.
It was on the road back to the capital, that Rainald took his horse aside, drew his mighty bastard sword, and cast it into a ditch. Looking at his questioning men, he simply stated "no more can I do this butcher's work; let a stronger fool embark on this folly."
What followed was a time of peace and progress. The Emperor reformed the Senate, and gave it powers that equalled his own. He invested the Empire's dwindling coffers on civil projects, creating sewers and hospitals in the surviving population hubs, and then embarked upon a quest of great social and land reform.
Serfs were freed, and given land; slavery outright abolished. Minor revolts followed this, but this time Rainald dispatched his own commanders to handle the situation, with orders to be as gentle as possible. Many still died however, as is the way of things. Regardless, the Emperor's reforms brought more happiness than misery, and many were starting to forget the sins of his past.
Having courted and married Sereni, the Elf Maiden of House Crysglarde and perhaps the most beautiful woman the world over, Rainald was blessed with twin sons. Entwined with more Elven blood than their father, these boys would grow into fine young men with bright futures. The Emperor rested then, for his Empire was on the way to being rebuilt, he had a Queen he loved and adored, and two sons that would carry his name beyond the span of mortal years.
Unfortunately, Rainald's happy ending was not to be. Word reached him that the island nation of Everstrine had come under siege from a powerful wizard, a certain Gargth the Fallen. The reports stated that Gargth had accessed the fabled Shadow Realm, and had become mighty as a result. At a whim, this fallen wizard could create a legion of fearsome creatures with souls blacker than the night.
The Emperor saw something in Gargth's sudden appearance... something that reminded him of a marble city encased in flame, of a tumbling Palace and a great big black terror hounding the skies above.
With the leaders of the Moonsong Alliance calling for a general muster, Rainald decided that he was perhaps too old and too rusty to lead the charge, and that his sons, greater warriors both, should take his place. They were both honoured by his decision, and left immediately. Queen Sereni had begged them not to go however; had begged the Emperor to recall his order. The Emperor ignored what he saw as "womanly rantings", and bid his sons farewell, and saw them off as they joined a great host of the Alliance's mightiest warriors.
"You will not see them again, my Lord," Sereni had said, her face awash with tears and grief.
And she was right. They fell in the first Armarda, torn from their ship by a great wave - a wave sent forth by the all encompassing power that had become Gargth the Fallen. Rainald refused to believe the news at first, but eventually, as the days passed, he had to accept that the impossible had happened. Fifty thousand soldiers, wizards, clerics, sorcerers - the whole lot - overcome and slain by a single man.
Sereni, racked with inconsolable grief, threw herself from a balcony and died shortly thereafter; and as Rainald cradled her bloodied lifeless form in his arms, he wept. He screamed. He roared. The world had taken from him everything, and given him only bitter memories and a fractured conscience.
An hour after the Queen had been laid to rest, Rainald was donning his armor - not worn in decades - and calling for a sword. His advisors and generals urged against his folly, but Rainald paid them no heed. He dispatched summons to the leaders of the Alliance, and convened the second Council, whereby he convinced them to amass a second - yet smaller expedition.
Successful in convincing the Council on organising the expedition, Rainald made preparations for the Empire's rule in his stead - should he not return - gathered his regiment of Moon Guards, and sailed forth to find what peace he could.
Race and Abilities: Just an ordinary human; not even a Rehdrin! I got me no powers to speak of, no magic fire balls to launch forth from me arse. Just flesh 'n bone.
Age: 27
Appearance: I ain't much in the way of stature. Not like some of them I lead, nah sir; quite a sickly looking fellow some'a the gals down the fun house call me. Pale skin, wet noodles for arms, much the same for me legs. Got a nice face though, all chiselled and handsome, with an awfully springy moustache below me nose... well, where else would it be? Not that it matters much, I never take off my helmet in public. Makes the men think I'm a little more than I really am, that way.
Famed Skills: Yeah there's a no point in bigging this up really. I got a big gun, a real big gun. Won it from a Dwarven merchant in a game of dice. First time I fired it was when he tried to take it back from me and I accidentally pulled the trigger during the struggle. Never knew a head contained so much blood and gunk; damn near painted the whole bar with it.
Anyhow, when you got a gun like mine, you don't gotta be real accurate or real smart. Ya just point it toward someone you don't like, and pull the trigger repeatedly until they go away. If they still be standing after the thing stops a'firing, then I run... but I haven't had to test that little back up plan yet.
So aside from pulling a trigger, I guess one might also say I'm a natural leader. Something about the way I talk, they say, it inspires people to do courageous (insane and stupid) deeds of honour. Think it's 'bout the way I look, or maybe it's 'cus of the way I put extra grit in me voice when I speak to the men.
Or maybe it's 'cus I have a habbit of running into real dangerous situations, and thanks to Mr. Bang Bang, I usually come out fairly unscathed. Maybe it makes the men embarrassed, seeing little ole me doing things they have to think twice about.
Magic: Like I said, I can't do anything fancy, I'm just a boring ole human, oh yes sir! My mother had a bit of a talent with it though, yeah, she used to do all sorts of funny things with her mind and stuff. Never understood it my self, and nah I never had much talent for the arcane.
Weapons: My Dwarven friend who sucked arse at dice called this thing his "Repeata'". I think he meant "Repeater", but I like throwing on the accent for effect. Did it work? Anyways, it's like your average musket I spose, with a spinny thing in the middle that rotates everytime you pull the trigger. Got twelve holes in it, the spinny thing I mean, and all I gotta do is stash a bullet into each and then BAM it's good to go!
Armour: I look a bit like a run through a clothes line, don't I? Well I guess I was never one for fashion. Mother always said I did my best to look ugly, and I don't think that's true! But what can I say? My men gave me this armour, and said it would protect me, but that it would mark me out as their leader because it's so wonderfully colourful!
Steed: It's a er... a big swan. Like, real big. Never seen one like it in my life. I call it Dave. He's a feisty fellah, that's for sure, and gets real angry for no reason, like all the time!
Bio: Well after my Dwarf friend lost at dice, and then lost his face, I met some real wonderful fellows! They came bursting into the tavern, right up to the bar they did. Said they were the "Emperor's Men", that I had commited a crime, and that I was going to DIE!
Well I started laughing, and then they chased me around the bar in circles until they tired themselves. I laughed the whole time. And then I looked one of them in the eyes, and he started to find everything as funny as I did... though he sorta ruined the mood when he stabbed himself in the face with his sword.
Anyways, after that, the "Emperor's Men" suddenly wanted to be my friend. I always wanted a friend, and now I have loads of friends. I spent lots of time with my new friends, and we were always doing exciting things. I got a bit annoyed being hidden in a wagon all the time though. Bored as well. When I told them I was bored, they said I didn't have to be in a wagon anymore.
Then we were in a city, and they told me the Emperor himself wanted to meet me. He asked me if I wanted to play a really fun game called "War and Death", or "A vengeful crusade", or - ya know what? I can't remember. He said a lot of stuff about pulling peoples' heads off. I like games. I agreed. Then he said I was a Captain and that I was in charge.
Banner: A white sphere on a field of purple.
Nationality and Races: Men and Women of Rhedrinnor
Racial Specifics: See Champion sheet.
Size of Host: 300
Speciality: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor are a breed of heavy airborne cavalry, who ride great Swans into battle, and use them to dive at enemy formations with lance and fire.
Typical Arms: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor carry great lances that reach twelve feet in length, all fashioned from the near-unbreakable Rhedrinnon Steel. They will typically dive at opponents, and skewer them at great speed and force.
If they lose their lance - or worse, if it breaks! - then the Moon Guard will draw their long swords. Although having much less reach, and disallowing them the use of their effective dive tactics, it is protection enough for the individual in question to escape the field of battle, and retrieve another lance.
Finally, strapped across their backs, are medium-sized crossbows with a hand-winch mechanism. Light, yet packing a punch, the Moon Guard are thus able to release a deadly volley from the air should the need arise. Traditionally however, the crossbow exists in their armoury as a means to counter airborne opponents that can out manoeuvre their great swans.
Typical Armour: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor, whether man or woman, wear the same universal suit of armour. Made from common steel, but burnished so that it appears golden, the Moon Guards' layer of protection is heavy but protects them from all but the most determined blows... though it holds little sway with magic.
Typical Steeds: The Great Swans of Rhedrinnor are massive, splendid beasts that greatly resemble their much smaller, yet very distant cousins. Ill tempered and equipped with powerful beaks and wings, they are more than capable of dismembering smaller beasts and humanoids alike. They are famed for their strength, and for their ability to carry heavily armed warriors to bear.
However, they are generally slower than smaller aerial mounts, such as Great Crows, and suffer from wider turning arc lest their rider is a very capable handler.
Magic Used: All members of Rhedrinnor's Moon Guard are versed in elemental magic, specifically, the use of fire. Powered by mana, for which they drink potions, this basic art is used to unleash fireballs and jets of flame at enemy formations from above. It can be devastating in the right circumstances, but is limited to enemies that care for fire.
Typically, a single potion of mana will provide a rider with enough magical energy to cast several spells in quick succession. However, the effects are short lasting, and few in the Guard can stomach more than two of the foul-tasting, body wrecking brews in a single 24 hour period.
History: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor is an ancient military body, established at the founding of the Alliance, whereby the Moonsong Treaty required in loose terms that a unified army be fielded by all member states. In reality however, the Kings and Emperors of the time rather sought to use the name for propaganda pieces; several Moon Guard regiments sprung up across the Alliance, and yet none of them swore fealty to more than one leader.
The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor has served Rainald's House faithfully since its rise to the Imperial Throne, and only once has it faltered in protecting its charges. That was of course, during the battle of the Capital, where they failed in protecting the Emperor and his family, as well as fleeing when the Crown Prince required them most.
During the wars that racked Rhedrinnor following Blarg's fall, the Moon Guard formed the core of Rainald's ever victorious army, and their numbers ballooned from a mere foot-note regiment of bodyguards into an elite army of tens of thousands.
Unfortunately, the three hundred in Rainald's company are all that are left of them. Years of cutting back on military spending, topped by the great losses they suffered enroute to Everstrine, as seen this once proud army become a shadow of what it once was, and a reality of what it began as: unquestioning bodyguards.
"My life ends here, upon this island, with nothing but the empty void to avail me in this final act. Gargth has slain my sons, has slain my wife. He has surfaced to translate my sins into palpable tragedy. Enough I say, enough of this nightmare. By this campaign's end, I will finally know peace."
Emperor Rainald XII the Broken
Race: Man of Rhedrinnor
Known Racial Abilities: The Men of Rhedrinnor are a bastard breed of humans, descended from the controversial mix of human and Elven blood. Though whilst Half-Elves often bear the mixed qualities and flaws of their respective parents, the Men of Rhedrinnor have become diluted to the point that they are far more human than they are Elf.
An extended lifespan, enhanced senses and a peculiar grace bless these Men. As such, they are considered superior to the average human, and this is something they flaunt at every given opportunity.
Age: 191
Renowned Skills:
- Monster Slayer: The Emperor knows his way around the world's monsters. Indeed, he spent his youth killing them, and building his reputation as a renowned hero. His monster-lore is an invaluable tool when confronting the horrors of the world.
- Broken Mind: This man is beyond fear and temptation. He has but one goal, and no magic or form of persuasion can sway him from his personal crusade. Woe to any that try. He fears neither pain nor death, and no foe, no matter its origin, can stumble his cause.
- Master Swordsman: In his youth the Emperor was a legendary warrior that few could match in toe-to-toe combat. Though he has seen many, many winters since his glory days, he is still an adversary not to be underestimated.
Magic:
- A Heroe's Luck or a Villain's Curse: There is something divine about Rainald, though he bows to no God of men. He has a bizarre luck about him, something that seems to be protecting him, preventing him from a simple death on the battlefield from some nameless adversary. Call it Fate, call it Divine Guidance, but it would seem Rainald's life has a predetermined outcome.
Weapons:
- Redeeming Edge: A large bastard sword, heavy to wield but devastating on impact. Crafted from Rhedrinnon Steel, it is near-unbreakable, and can stand against its greater cousins. It was made at short notice, by the nearest smith that could forge such a weapon, and the Emperor spared no expense in its construction. Though simple looking, it has been masterfully made.
- Wrath: The Emperor's right hand is encased in a heavy gauntlet made from four-inch thick Rhedrinnon Steel. Though it weighs him down on one side, and impedes his movement, he is able to use it as a literal wrecking ball. A favourite weapon in his younger years, it looks daft on him now, but one would be unwise to belittle an old man caught in the grip of a sorrowful rage.
Armour: Like his sword, and his gauntlet, the Emperor's plated armor is composed of Rhedrinnon steel. Whilst it makes him almost impervious to edged weaponry, it by no means absorbs solid impacts. He is a titan of ragged muscles and steel, but he is not unstoppable - especially if his aged heart can't keep up with him.
Steed: Gilden, a great Swan. White to the point of glowing, Gilden can be described as beautiful, almost heavenly. Such creatures are native to Rhedrinnon, and are vicious things in combat. Able to shoulder great weights, the Swans of Rhedrinnon make some of world's finer aerial mounts.
Bio: In his youth, the Emperor was famed across the realm of Rhedrinnor as the heroic and mighty Crown Prince. His was the very projection of Old World might and splendour; a muscled juggernaut of black steel and fearsome determination, who would march selflessly from one quest to the next, slowly curing his homeland of the evil that periodically assailed it.
From Vampire Lords to Troll Warmasters, the Crown Prince was always mercilessly quick to track down his adversaries, with a troop of his father's Moon Guard at his back, and bring his wicked prey to swift justice and retribution. All Rhedrin menfolk stood in awe as his colossal status grew with each heroic victory, and all of the Rhedrin womenfolk wished their lives away wilfully that he may grant them his favour.
The Emperor's tale of grand deeds and epic sagas of justice was not to last however, and one tragedy befell him - and his House - after another.
His father and mother were first assassinated by Blarg the Great; a dark wurm, spawned from the sin of some bastard necromancer. Blarg fired Rhedrinnor's capital, smoting the mighty metropolis in a single day, and all of the Emperor's men were powerless to stop him... all but one.
Arriving late to the battle, but just in time to see his father's Palace immolated by the wrath of Blarg, the Crown Prince screamed in rage. He surged forwards upon his mighty Swan, though his Moon Guard buckled and abandoned him in his greatest hour of need - and this mighty man thus faced one of the greatest threats that Rhedrinnor had ever known, by himself, and with no man or woman to call kin.
The Battle of the Prince and the Wurm is a song known across the Moonsong Alliance, and it elaborately relates what is perhaps the greatest feat of a traditional warrior going toe-to-toe with something beyond his ken. Though whilst the song is short and beautiful, the reality was far different. Through a mixture of chaos, luck and perhaps something more, the Crown Prince delivered a fatal strike to the wurm's black-beating heart after an hour-long running battle. Horribly burned and in great pain, the Crown Prince raced to the Palace, but found it a smoking ruin that none survived. His brothers, sisters and his parents had all perished.
It is said the Crown Prince's strength failed him at this, and he broke into a sobbing lump of charred flesh and battered armour. Indeed, it took most of his Moon Guard to finally haul him away from the fires that threatened to envelope them all.
In the aftermath of Blarg's demise, Rhedrinnor was in bad shape. Half of her royalty and gentry had been obliterated by Blarg's fire, and the capital - and the seat of Rhedrinnor's power and wealth - lay in blazing ruins. For centuries the country had stood as a bastion of strength, and in a single day, and at the whim of a necromancer, its heart had been torn out; a mortal wound seemingly dealt.
Taking his Imperial Crown, Rainald wasted no time in launching the Necromantic Inquisition. What followed was a brief dark age, and the start of the Emperor's bloodiest chapters. Thousands of citizens from across the Rhedrinnor Empire were imprisoned and tortured to death on the merest suspicion that they harboured dealings with the necromantic arts. The Inquisiton would go on for some years, until Rainald finally relented in his fruitless search for the bastard that had summoned Blarg, and brought death to both his kingdom and his House.
With the bodies of his Inquisition's victims still warm, the Emperor was forced to confront a sudden and destructive Orcish revolt from Rhedrinnor's southern-most provinces. Enraged that his subjects would attempt to gain leverage whilst their country was reeling from Blarg's assault, the Emperor immediately rallied his armies and marched to meet the rebels.
Though out numbered six to one by the Orcish hordes, Rainald triumphed in a string of crushing victories, that saw the rebel forces collapse. Outraged at their hubris and their disrespect, Rainald made it illegal for Orcs to live in Rhedrinnor, and given that they could not simply move to another nation, he was effectively giving his nobles, commanders and other leaders of men all the permission they needed to move in and exterminate their Orc subjects - and take their lands for themselves.
And as Rainald's genocide raged in the south, the northern provinces succumbed to yet another Troll invasion from the Arcan Mountains. Gathering his battered army, the Emperor travelled north, and gave battle at Arcton City. He was again victorious, and his increased bloodlust led him to mount a horrific campaign in the Troll's home territories. The Arcan Mountains wailed for months with the screams of Troll children and women.
Horrified by Rainald's increasing brutality, something that had never been endorsed by his forefathers, the nobles of the Empire, and the Senators and the Prefects all mounted their own rebellion. Rainald came forth from the Mountains ahead of an army that had come to worship him, who saw him as something more than just a man; he was something terrible and divine, but also something mighty that had to be followed unto death.
The civil war wrecked the Empire's central heartlands, and lasted decades, until finally Rainald was able to fire the last rebel city - 50,000 men, women and children trapped and burned alive. He emerged from the rebellion mad, and broken. He had killed so many of his own countrymen, that he did not recognise himself anymore.
It was on the road back to the capital, that Rainald took his horse aside, drew his mighty bastard sword, and cast it into a ditch. Looking at his questioning men, he simply stated "no more can I do this butcher's work; let a stronger fool embark on this folly."
What followed was a time of peace and progress. The Emperor reformed the Senate, and gave it powers that equalled his own. He invested the Empire's dwindling coffers on civil projects, creating sewers and hospitals in the surviving population hubs, and then embarked upon a quest of great social and land reform.
Serfs were freed, and given land; slavery outright abolished. Minor revolts followed this, but this time Rainald dispatched his own commanders to handle the situation, with orders to be as gentle as possible. Many still died however, as is the way of things. Regardless, the Emperor's reforms brought more happiness than misery, and many were starting to forget the sins of his past.
Having courted and married Sereni, the Elf Maiden of House Crysglarde and perhaps the most beautiful woman the world over, Rainald was blessed with twin sons. Entwined with more Elven blood than their father, these boys would grow into fine young men with bright futures. The Emperor rested then, for his Empire was on the way to being rebuilt, he had a Queen he loved and adored, and two sons that would carry his name beyond the span of mortal years.
Unfortunately, Rainald's happy ending was not to be. Word reached him that the island nation of Everstrine had come under siege from a powerful wizard, a certain Gargth the Fallen. The reports stated that Gargth had accessed the fabled Shadow Realm, and had become mighty as a result. At a whim, this fallen wizard could create a legion of fearsome creatures with souls blacker than the night.
The Emperor saw something in Gargth's sudden appearance... something that reminded him of a marble city encased in flame, of a tumbling Palace and a great big black terror hounding the skies above.
With the leaders of the Moonsong Alliance calling for a general muster, Rainald decided that he was perhaps too old and too rusty to lead the charge, and that his sons, greater warriors both, should take his place. They were both honoured by his decision, and left immediately. Queen Sereni had begged them not to go however; had begged the Emperor to recall his order. The Emperor ignored what he saw as "womanly rantings", and bid his sons farewell, and saw them off as they joined a great host of the Alliance's mightiest warriors.
"You will not see them again, my Lord," Sereni had said, her face awash with tears and grief.
And she was right. They fell in the first Armarda, torn from their ship by a great wave - a wave sent forth by the all encompassing power that had become Gargth the Fallen. Rainald refused to believe the news at first, but eventually, as the days passed, he had to accept that the impossible had happened. Fifty thousand soldiers, wizards, clerics, sorcerers - the whole lot - overcome and slain by a single man.
Sereni, racked with inconsolable grief, threw herself from a balcony and died shortly thereafter; and as Rainald cradled her bloodied lifeless form in his arms, he wept. He screamed. He roared. The world had taken from him everything, and given him only bitter memories and a fractured conscience.
An hour after the Queen had been laid to rest, Rainald was donning his armor - not worn in decades - and calling for a sword. His advisors and generals urged against his folly, but Rainald paid them no heed. He dispatched summons to the leaders of the Alliance, and convened the second Council, whereby he convinced them to amass a second - yet smaller expedition.
Successful in convincing the Council on organising the expedition, Rainald made preparations for the Empire's rule in his stead - should he not return - gathered his regiment of Moon Guards, and sailed forth to find what peace he could.
"Will you be my friend? I'm bored, how about we play a game? Oh, no, no I insist! You choose! I'm always happy to do whatever, and whenever."
Sir Gregnar Gardain, Honourable Captain of the Rhedrinnor Moon Guard
Race and Abilities: Just an ordinary human; not even a Rehdrin! I got me no powers to speak of, no magic fire balls to launch forth from me arse. Just flesh 'n bone.
Sir Gregnar Gardain is not as he seems. He is of the Dionysus, a shapeshifting race of tricksters who are thought to be incredibly rare (yet fully divine) Mountain Spirits. That is to say, they are immensely powerful - though wholly bored - spirits that inhabit mountainous regions. They have a great love of taking mortal form, and stumbling around like morons. They dedicate themselves to chaos, wine and ecstasy - though not always in that order.
Whilst in mortal form, their powers are heavily reduced and locked within the logic of the being they have formed a mockery of. However, it is said that to look into a Dionysus' eyes is enough to drive a mere mortal thoroughly insane, beyond the point of return.
They cannot be killed, but if their mortal forms are destroyed, then they must return to their mountain homes to recuperate before being able to resume their amusements.
Whilst in mortal form, their powers are heavily reduced and locked within the logic of the being they have formed a mockery of. However, it is said that to look into a Dionysus' eyes is enough to drive a mere mortal thoroughly insane, beyond the point of return.
They cannot be killed, but if their mortal forms are destroyed, then they must return to their mountain homes to recuperate before being able to resume their amusements.
Age: 27
????????
Appearance: I ain't much in the way of stature. Not like some of them I lead, nah sir; quite a sickly looking fellow some'a the gals down the fun house call me. Pale skin, wet noodles for arms, much the same for me legs. Got a nice face though, all chiselled and handsome, with an awfully springy moustache below me nose... well, where else would it be? Not that it matters much, I never take off my helmet in public. Makes the men think I'm a little more than I really am, that way.
This particular spirit has taken the form a sickly looking, thin man in his mid twenties. He keeps his helmet on so that he doesn't accidentally start driving people mad, thus breaking his immersion in the little game he is playing. Still, Dionysus have needs, and many a whore (both male and female!) have paid the ultimate psychological price for his transgressions.
Famed Skills: Yeah there's a no point in bigging this up really. I got a big gun, a real big gun. Won it from a Dwarven merchant in a game of dice. First time I fired it was when he tried to take it back from me and I accidentally pulled the trigger during the struggle. Never knew a head contained so much blood and gunk; damn near painted the whole bar with it.
Anyhow, when you got a gun like mine, you don't gotta be real accurate or real smart. Ya just point it toward someone you don't like, and pull the trigger repeatedly until they go away. If they still be standing after the thing stops a'firing, then I run... but I haven't had to test that little back up plan yet.
So aside from pulling a trigger, I guess one might also say I'm a natural leader. Something about the way I talk, they say, it inspires people to do courageous (insane and stupid) deeds of honour. Think it's 'bout the way I look, or maybe it's 'cus of the way I put extra grit in me voice when I speak to the men.
Or maybe it's 'cus I have a habbit of running into real dangerous situations, and thanks to Mr. Bang Bang, I usually come out fairly unscathed. Maybe it makes the men embarrassed, seeing little ole me doing things they have to think twice about.
Sir Gregnar's men are more than aware of what he is. That's why they follow him, because he is more or less a living God who has so far proven an undeniable and indispensable ally in their recent endeavours. An actual Captain is imbedded in the unit, to take care of the regiment's day to day tasks, but it is this Dionysus that they follow into battle (though usually they have to point him the right way). To ease things along, all of the Moon Guard go along with the spirit's games, lest he realise they made him almost the moment they first found him and departs. To say their endorsement of him is reckless, may well be an understatement.
Aside from the fact that he is a powerful myth incarnate, Sir Gregnar's reaction speed is insanely quick, as are his movements in general. Thus he is able to use his gun to great effect, felling dozens of foes in the blink of an eye with its monstrous thunder. Furthermore, trying to strike the twitchy bastard down is incredibly hard unless you're extremely fast yourself, because he will simply step aside repeatedly and laugh at you (before blowing your head off, of course).
Aside from the fact that he is a powerful myth incarnate, Sir Gregnar's reaction speed is insanely quick, as are his movements in general. Thus he is able to use his gun to great effect, felling dozens of foes in the blink of an eye with its monstrous thunder. Furthermore, trying to strike the twitchy bastard down is incredibly hard unless you're extremely fast yourself, because he will simply step aside repeatedly and laugh at you (before blowing your head off, of course).
Magic: Like I said, I can't do anything fancy, I'm just a boring ole human, oh yes sir! My mother had a bit of a talent with it though, yeah, she used to do all sorts of funny things with her mind and stuff. Never understood it my self, and nah I never had much talent for the arcane.
Though he is unable to use magic in his human form, even Gargth the Fallen would be cautious around a Dionysus if caught in their natural form. They are incredibly powerful, and if they willed it, could cause great damage to the world and the people living in it. As it happens however, Dionysus do not harbour any particular ill will to the planet as a whole. After all, what would be the point of breaking the game, rather than playing it?
Fortunately for Gargth, the Dionysus must destroy their mortal form, before resuming their natural state.
Fortunately for Gargth, the Dionysus must destroy their mortal form, before resuming their natural state.
Weapons: My Dwarven friend who sucked arse at dice called this thing his "Repeata'". I think he meant "Repeater", but I like throwing on the accent for effect. Did it work? Anyways, it's like your average musket I spose, with a spinny thing in the middle that rotates everytime you pull the trigger. Got twelve holes in it, the spinny thing I mean, and all I gotta do is stash a bullet into each and then BAM it's good to go!
One of Gregnar's first acts as his human mockery, was to con a Dwarf merchant into giving up his prized possession in a game of rigged dice. The weapon is a master-work of Dwarven gunsmithery, with a revolver mechanism that can carry a total of 12 pre-packed bullets, each as large as a human thumb. It is incredibly powerful, able to blast its way through most armour types. Though slow to reload, it can unleash a devastating and rapid volley - especially in the hands of Gregnar.
When the Dwarf merchant realised he had been tricked, he tried to forcefully remove the gun from Gregnar's possession. In response, the Mountain Spirit easily escaped the Dwarf's murderous clutches, and laughed manically as he unloaded all twelve chambers into the little man's face.
When the Dwarf merchant realised he had been tricked, he tried to forcefully remove the gun from Gregnar's possession. In response, the Mountain Spirit easily escaped the Dwarf's murderous clutches, and laughed manically as he unloaded all twelve chambers into the little man's face.
Armour: I look a bit like a run through a clothes line, don't I? Well I guess I was never one for fashion. Mother always said I did my best to look ugly, and I don't think that's true! But what can I say? My men gave me this armour, and said it would protect me, but that it would mark me out as their leader because it's so wonderfully colourful!
Sir Gregnar wears a motely arrangement of plate armour and colourful tabards not of Rainald's House or the Moonsong Alliance. The Moon Guard gave him this armour for three reasons. The first being a simple matter of protection, the second that the Moon Guard would very easily recognise him in the fray of battle - and act accordingly - and the third reason? Well, if Sir Gregnar was to go 'rogue', it would not do for him to be wearing the Emperor's colours.
Steed: It's a er... a big swan. Like, real big. Never seen one like it in my life. I call it Dave. He's a feisty fellah, that's for sure, and gets real angry for no reason, like all the time!
"Dave", is really called Larrel, and was formerly Gilden's (Emperor's Swan) first born. However, the first thing Gregnar did upon being gifted the beast was remove his helm - much to the sudden fear of the Moon Guard present - and stared into the Swan's eyes. Larrel is now as mad as a hatter, and is also now called "Dave". As a result of Gregnar's transgressions, the Swan is totally insane and will either attack or irritate (depending on luck) anyone that tries to mount it. However Gregnar seems to be able to control the Swan with little difficulty, and it does not fight him.
In fact, it's almost as if Gregnar was born to ride this swan, going by his hastily acquired riding skills.
In fact, it's almost as if Gregnar was born to ride this swan, going by his hastily acquired riding skills.
Bio: Well after my Dwarf friend lost at dice, and then lost his face, I met some real wonderful fellows! They came bursting into the tavern, right up to the bar they did. Said they were the "Emperor's Men", that I had commited a crime, and that I was going to DIE!
Well I started laughing, and then they chased me around the bar in circles until they tired themselves. I laughed the whole time. And then I looked one of them in the eyes, and he started to find everything as funny as I did... though he sorta ruined the mood when he stabbed himself in the face with his sword.
Anyways, after that, the "Emperor's Men" suddenly wanted to be my friend. I always wanted a friend, and now I have loads of friends. I spent lots of time with my new friends, and we were always doing exciting things. I got a bit annoyed being hidden in a wagon all the time though. Bored as well. When I told them I was bored, they said I didn't have to be in a wagon anymore.
Then we were in a city, and they told me the Emperor himself wanted to meet me. He asked me if I wanted to play a really fun game called "War and Death", or "A vengeful crusade", or - ya know what? I can't remember. He said a lot of stuff about pulling peoples' heads off. I like games. I agreed. Then he said I was a Captain and that I was in charge.
The Moon Guard were patrolling the streets of a border town when they heard the shots. Rushing into the tavern, swords drawn, they came across Gregnar. After chasing him around, and being unable to apprehend him, the first thought him to be mad - or some kind of drunken wizard. Then he made one of the men insane by looking at them, and he promptly killed himself in a fit of laughter. Luckily, one of the other soldiers present was superticious enough to believe Gregnar to be what he really is, and changed tactic. The soldier asked Gregnar if he wanted to be friends, and Gregn
ar whole heartedly accepted.
After that, the Moon Guard tested their control over their new found friend - a wholly irresponbile act on a grand scale. First they sent him to kill a group of bandits, by asking if he wanted to play "hunt and kill the bad men". Gregnar accepted, and joyfully killed the bandits in question without taking a scratch. Similar antics followed, and the Moon Guard began to stage more elaborate uses of their newest weapon.
Being all to aware that their charge could become incredibly dangerous if "bored", they took shifts in keeping him occupied with all sorts of errands, from the mundane to the outright bizarre. Their favourite was asking him to run to the nearest town and back, so that they could get a few hours of sleep - something he always whole heartedly agreed to do, and with such joy!
When the Emperor lost his mind, at the passing of his sons and his Queen, one of his soldiers mentioned Gregnar's existence to him. Immediately, the Emperor tracked down Gregnar and his handlers, and asked him if he wanted to play a game. Gregar agreed, as he always did.
ar whole heartedly accepted.
After that, the Moon Guard tested their control over their new found friend - a wholly irresponbile act on a grand scale. First they sent him to kill a group of bandits, by asking if he wanted to play "hunt and kill the bad men". Gregnar accepted, and joyfully killed the bandits in question without taking a scratch. Similar antics followed, and the Moon Guard began to stage more elaborate uses of their newest weapon.
Being all to aware that their charge could become incredibly dangerous if "bored", they took shifts in keeping him occupied with all sorts of errands, from the mundane to the outright bizarre. Their favourite was asking him to run to the nearest town and back, so that they could get a few hours of sleep - something he always whole heartedly agreed to do, and with such joy!
When the Emperor lost his mind, at the passing of his sons and his Queen, one of his soldiers mentioned Gregnar's existence to him. Immediately, the Emperor tracked down Gregnar and his handlers, and asked him if he wanted to play a game. Gregar agreed, as he always did.
"The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor is as old as the Alliance itself. You'll find no finer fighters in the whole Empire. Few have withstood their ferocity, and even less have withstood a devastating rush from these Great Swan riding warriors.
The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor
Banner: A white sphere on a field of purple.
Nationality and Races: Men and Women of Rhedrinnor
Racial Specifics: See Champion sheet.
Size of Host: 300
Speciality: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor are a breed of heavy airborne cavalry, who ride great Swans into battle, and use them to dive at enemy formations with lance and fire.
Typical Arms: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor carry great lances that reach twelve feet in length, all fashioned from the near-unbreakable Rhedrinnon Steel. They will typically dive at opponents, and skewer them at great speed and force.
If they lose their lance - or worse, if it breaks! - then the Moon Guard will draw their long swords. Although having much less reach, and disallowing them the use of their effective dive tactics, it is protection enough for the individual in question to escape the field of battle, and retrieve another lance.
Finally, strapped across their backs, are medium-sized crossbows with a hand-winch mechanism. Light, yet packing a punch, the Moon Guard are thus able to release a deadly volley from the air should the need arise. Traditionally however, the crossbow exists in their armoury as a means to counter airborne opponents that can out manoeuvre their great swans.
Typical Armour: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor, whether man or woman, wear the same universal suit of armour. Made from common steel, but burnished so that it appears golden, the Moon Guards' layer of protection is heavy but protects them from all but the most determined blows... though it holds little sway with magic.
Typical Steeds: The Great Swans of Rhedrinnor are massive, splendid beasts that greatly resemble their much smaller, yet very distant cousins. Ill tempered and equipped with powerful beaks and wings, they are more than capable of dismembering smaller beasts and humanoids alike. They are famed for their strength, and for their ability to carry heavily armed warriors to bear.
However, they are generally slower than smaller aerial mounts, such as Great Crows, and suffer from wider turning arc lest their rider is a very capable handler.
Magic Used: All members of Rhedrinnor's Moon Guard are versed in elemental magic, specifically, the use of fire. Powered by mana, for which they drink potions, this basic art is used to unleash fireballs and jets of flame at enemy formations from above. It can be devastating in the right circumstances, but is limited to enemies that care for fire.
Typically, a single potion of mana will provide a rider with enough magical energy to cast several spells in quick succession. However, the effects are short lasting, and few in the Guard can stomach more than two of the foul-tasting, body wrecking brews in a single 24 hour period.
History: The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor is an ancient military body, established at the founding of the Alliance, whereby the Moonsong Treaty required in loose terms that a unified army be fielded by all member states. In reality however, the Kings and Emperors of the time rather sought to use the name for propaganda pieces; several Moon Guard regiments sprung up across the Alliance, and yet none of them swore fealty to more than one leader.
The Moon Guard of Rhedrinnor has served Rainald's House faithfully since its rise to the Imperial Throne, and only once has it faltered in protecting its charges. That was of course, during the battle of the Capital, where they failed in protecting the Emperor and his family, as well as fleeing when the Crown Prince required them most.
During the wars that racked Rhedrinnor following Blarg's fall, the Moon Guard formed the core of Rainald's ever victorious army, and their numbers ballooned from a mere foot-note regiment of bodyguards into an elite army of tens of thousands.
Unfortunately, the three hundred in Rainald's company are all that are left of them. Years of cutting back on military spending, topped by the great losses they suffered enroute to Everstrine, as seen this once proud army become a shadow of what it once was, and a reality of what it began as: unquestioning bodyguards.
Weird Tales A Stranger from A Strange Outer Dimension
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
Rhino is ready to kick some ass with his chimera magic
I really ought to get cracking on my sheets; I've been having second thoughts about what kind of regiment I actually want to play.
Do we have all the mundane bases covered? (infantry, cavalry, skirmishers, archers, etc.)
Do we have all the mundane bases covered? (infantry, cavalry, skirmishers, archers, etc.)
Disciple Cain
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
I really ought to get cracking on my sheets; I've been having second thoughts about what kind of regiment I actually want to play.
Do we have all the mundane bases covered? (infantry, cavalry, skirmishers, archers, etc.)
I threw in a regiment of battle medics and combat engineers/infantry.
I've been blessed with a wave of inspiration! I have a new concept I'd like to explore. Here is my champion, and the rest will come soon. I'll save the Azmar for another day.
Name: Eldanorré, Sorceress Queen of Gebrionné
Race: Human
Age: 33
Appearance: Her tresses are a rich mahogany, eyes a vibrant green. Eldanorré is the image of a woman in her prime, well-defined and supple. Prominent cheekbones are set high on her skull, and her jaw tapers to a dull point. Her flesh is a pale olive, except for her hands. Her digits are mottled with black, solid at her fingertips and sparse beyond her knuckles. This condition is a peculiar side-effect of her magic, one that has so far proven impossible to erase. Eldanorré stands at average height, built neither thick or thin, but full, with a solid musculature.
Renowned Skills: Eldanorré’s magical aptitude is innate, a gift of her bloodline. Centuries ago, the kings of Gebrionné made sorcerous pacts with entities from other planes to solidify their claims to the throne, and as a means of personal gain. Nowadays, that heritage has been long diluted, although several sorcerers have been born since the advent of its waning. Eldanorré is one of few that can call on this power. She needs no spellbook nor scrolls to unleash her abilities, only the force of her will and clarity of mind. However, there’s no telling when the Lords of Chaos will come to collect their due…
Magic: The exact nature of Eldanorré’s spells do not sit perfectly into any one category. In essence, they are a projection of her will made manifest. What form this takes is up to her, whether she conjures up a storm of daggers or wills a monster to sleep. The scale of her abilities is limited by her mental stamina; prolonged and rapid channeling of her power takes a toll on her. A majority of spells she knows were the brainchild of her ancestors, passed down from inheritor to inheritor. Through reflection and self-study, Eldanorré can create new spells of her own, and someday her descendants might learn them.
Her magical repertoire includes the knowledge of summoning extraplanar creatures and beings; some of which are mighty Lords of Chaos. Misuse of this knowledge is folly, for there is always a price for disturbing the denizens of other planes.
Weapons: Eldanorré is not particularly skilled with any martial weapons or arts. Instead, her magic can be used as an offensive tool.
Armour: The Sorceress Queen is usually clad in traditional Gebrionnése clothing, which is to say, not much. The fashion of the kingdom leaves much of the body exposed, both sexes included. Although slim in coverage, her outfits are lavishly decorated. Gemstones, precious metals, engravings and inlays can all be observed on her garments. The fabrics are fine silks and velvets of many colors, with origins in faraway lands.
Eldanorré has never needed the protection of a full suit of armor before, and if she desired, she could conjure up sorcerous plates. She might need to practice such a spell before reaching Evershrine.
Steed: Eldanorré’s personal mount is an extraplanar creature, bound to her through sorcery. It takes the form of a noble stallion, although its origin is betrayed by a long, lizardlike tail, bony fins and toes. She call it Althax, and can call it to her at whim.
Bio: Eldanorré is not a true queen, despite the moniker attributed to her. Rather, she is the claimant, or pretender, to the throne of Gebrionné. Daughter of the deposed Seldric IV, her ascension was barred by her father’s rivals, who placed their leader, Jerelad of Trent, on the throne. Gebrionné had been wracked with civil war prior to Jerelad’s coronation, divided into camps either supporting or opposing Seldric’s decision to support the Moonsong Alliance’s first offensive on Evershrine. With the loss of the entire fleet, including King Seldric and the majority of his allies, Gebrionné’s throne was barren. Seizing the opportunity, Jerelad mustered his loyal nobles and declared himself king, putting down political opponents with military force or bribes.
Eldanorré, as luck would have it, escaped Jerelad’s chaos with the help of retainers loyal to her father. Hailing her as the true queen of Gebrionné, they rallied behind her in hiding, biding their time within the neighboring kingdom of Sotraeca. During this time, Eldanorré conspired to take back what should have been hers. It was also a time of self-reflection, as she’d dedicated much of her life to the study of her sorcerous power. Believing that magical supremacy would aid her in her pursuit, Eldanorré experimented with a range of arts, including Shadow Magic.
While she was unable to retain her repertoire of Shadow Magic, she was able to peer into that dismal realm during her studies. What she saw alarmed her; Gargth’s influence was evident, perverting the flow of souls from the material plane to the afterlife and made to do his bidding. In that grey hellscape, Eldanorré chanced upon the soul of her father, naught but a puppet dancing to Gargth’s tune. In that moment, she realised Seldric had good reason to oppose such abuse of power, and if the kingdom was ever to be entrusted to her, his ambitions to defeat the wizard were also hers to fulfil.
As the news reached her of a second Moonsong offensive, Eldanorré informed her allies of her intention to join. Despite no shortage of hesitation, a host of desperate loyalists, former subjects and friends of Seldric accompanied her on the voyage. In doing so, there was a sliver of hope that Seldric’s soul could be put to rest, or even resurrected. Gargth’s defeat was, perhaps, a ticket to restoring her bloodline to the throne of Gebrionné.
Name: Eldanorré, Sorceress Queen of Gebrionné
Race: Human
Age: 33
Appearance: Her tresses are a rich mahogany, eyes a vibrant green. Eldanorré is the image of a woman in her prime, well-defined and supple. Prominent cheekbones are set high on her skull, and her jaw tapers to a dull point. Her flesh is a pale olive, except for her hands. Her digits are mottled with black, solid at her fingertips and sparse beyond her knuckles. This condition is a peculiar side-effect of her magic, one that has so far proven impossible to erase. Eldanorré stands at average height, built neither thick or thin, but full, with a solid musculature.
Renowned Skills: Eldanorré’s magical aptitude is innate, a gift of her bloodline. Centuries ago, the kings of Gebrionné made sorcerous pacts with entities from other planes to solidify their claims to the throne, and as a means of personal gain. Nowadays, that heritage has been long diluted, although several sorcerers have been born since the advent of its waning. Eldanorré is one of few that can call on this power. She needs no spellbook nor scrolls to unleash her abilities, only the force of her will and clarity of mind. However, there’s no telling when the Lords of Chaos will come to collect their due…
Magic: The exact nature of Eldanorré’s spells do not sit perfectly into any one category. In essence, they are a projection of her will made manifest. What form this takes is up to her, whether she conjures up a storm of daggers or wills a monster to sleep. The scale of her abilities is limited by her mental stamina; prolonged and rapid channeling of her power takes a toll on her. A majority of spells she knows were the brainchild of her ancestors, passed down from inheritor to inheritor. Through reflection and self-study, Eldanorré can create new spells of her own, and someday her descendants might learn them.
Her magical repertoire includes the knowledge of summoning extraplanar creatures and beings; some of which are mighty Lords of Chaos. Misuse of this knowledge is folly, for there is always a price for disturbing the denizens of other planes.
Weapons: Eldanorré is not particularly skilled with any martial weapons or arts. Instead, her magic can be used as an offensive tool.
Armour: The Sorceress Queen is usually clad in traditional Gebrionnése clothing, which is to say, not much. The fashion of the kingdom leaves much of the body exposed, both sexes included. Although slim in coverage, her outfits are lavishly decorated. Gemstones, precious metals, engravings and inlays can all be observed on her garments. The fabrics are fine silks and velvets of many colors, with origins in faraway lands.
Eldanorré has never needed the protection of a full suit of armor before, and if she desired, she could conjure up sorcerous plates. She might need to practice such a spell before reaching Evershrine.
Steed: Eldanorré’s personal mount is an extraplanar creature, bound to her through sorcery. It takes the form of a noble stallion, although its origin is betrayed by a long, lizardlike tail, bony fins and toes. She call it Althax, and can call it to her at whim.
Bio: Eldanorré is not a true queen, despite the moniker attributed to her. Rather, she is the claimant, or pretender, to the throne of Gebrionné. Daughter of the deposed Seldric IV, her ascension was barred by her father’s rivals, who placed their leader, Jerelad of Trent, on the throne. Gebrionné had been wracked with civil war prior to Jerelad’s coronation, divided into camps either supporting or opposing Seldric’s decision to support the Moonsong Alliance’s first offensive on Evershrine. With the loss of the entire fleet, including King Seldric and the majority of his allies, Gebrionné’s throne was barren. Seizing the opportunity, Jerelad mustered his loyal nobles and declared himself king, putting down political opponents with military force or bribes.
Eldanorré, as luck would have it, escaped Jerelad’s chaos with the help of retainers loyal to her father. Hailing her as the true queen of Gebrionné, they rallied behind her in hiding, biding their time within the neighboring kingdom of Sotraeca. During this time, Eldanorré conspired to take back what should have been hers. It was also a time of self-reflection, as she’d dedicated much of her life to the study of her sorcerous power. Believing that magical supremacy would aid her in her pursuit, Eldanorré experimented with a range of arts, including Shadow Magic.
While she was unable to retain her repertoire of Shadow Magic, she was able to peer into that dismal realm during her studies. What she saw alarmed her; Gargth’s influence was evident, perverting the flow of souls from the material plane to the afterlife and made to do his bidding. In that grey hellscape, Eldanorré chanced upon the soul of her father, naught but a puppet dancing to Gargth’s tune. In that moment, she realised Seldric had good reason to oppose such abuse of power, and if the kingdom was ever to be entrusted to her, his ambitions to defeat the wizard were also hers to fulfil.
As the news reached her of a second Moonsong offensive, Eldanorré informed her allies of her intention to join. Despite no shortage of hesitation, a host of desperate loyalists, former subjects and friends of Seldric accompanied her on the voyage. In doing so, there was a sliver of hope that Seldric’s soul could be put to rest, or even resurrected. Gargth’s defeat was, perhaps, a ticket to restoring her bloodline to the throne of Gebrionné.
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