[hider=The Unbroken] [center] [img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjk2LjkyMTEwMS5WR2hsSUZWdVluSnZhMlZ1LjAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/sad-kropotkin-laugh.regular.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/YVzBl0C.png[/img] [indent][indent][indent][indent][i]Here there is a place and a purpose for all those who languish beneath the rule of the Drathan Empire, a life for the weary, the scarred, the downtrodden. Here you will be lifted up, given a place and the tools needed to secure the fall of our enemies and the unity of peoples and gods. Raise up your fists and your voices, friends, for we are not only the Unbroken but also the Breakers, the shapers of a not-so-distant Future![/i] -Cerys Shadowborne[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] [/center] [hider=Origins] On the last day of the third year of her training, Cerys was taken to mirror lake, as was tradition. Her left ankle was shackled to a boulder on one side of the clear pool set in the depression at the peak of the Godsfang’s highest mountain. The stone in question was stained with the blood of prayers and sacrifices from generations of Arakkai priestesses, a mark of their most sacred places. Two bowls were set before the young woman, both of a dark, stained wood, impossible to tell what color they once had been. One brimmed with Ichor, the other held nothing but a very sharp knife. Two older acolytes were set on watch, but neither spoke. For seven days and nights, no food or drink passed Cerys’s lips but for the chilling water of the mountain lake, cold even in the height of summer. She did not move during this time but sat crosslegged, her arms resting on her knees and her head bent as if in prayer except when occasionally taking water. Around her, cold day and night passed, reflected in the mirror lake as though it was less a body of water than a window looking into some distant world. On the morning of the eighth day, Cerys was roused from a haze of feverish prayer to find the lake strangely shaded, though no clouds crossed the sky and the sun shone fiercely from her high perch. With trembling fingers, the priestess lifted the knife to the crook of her elbow and pressed gently. The skin almost flinched apart, repelled by the dark blade, and Cerys skillfully maneuvered the bowl to catch her spilling blood. It filled slowly, but she would not need much. Cerys dipped her right-hand palm down into her own warm blood and then into the thick pool of ichor in the bowl beside it. Without pausing to let the excess of either liquid drip off, her placed the dripping hand in the center of her chest, sending red-black droplets falling intimately down her torso, slicking a few stray strands of her long, dark hair. Before the potent mixture dried, she dragged her forefinger down her soft lips and again under her eyes, across her nose, in the center of her forehead. The dark liquid was sticky and hot against her sensitive skin, but as the last drop fell into place, her vision deepened. She could see him, mere feet away. The Wanderer was movement incarnate, a dark mass of shadowy tendrils curling sinuously about itself, sometimes reaching out, sometimes condensing. Struck by the presence of the powerful spirit, Cerys rose slowly, her eyes never leaving the twisting form. For several long moments, nothing happened, and when the Red God spoke, it was in the voice of multitudes, a hundred hundred voices all whispering in unison. “Do you fear me?” It asked, its strange multi-voiced chant lifted in curiosity as if it was unfamiliar with the feelings of man. “Yes,” Cerys said honestly, her heart beat thundering in her chest, her body weak from so many days without sustenance. “But,” she went on, “That will not stop me.” As the last syllable fell from her lips, the mass rushed forward, enveloping the priestess in inky shadow. It touched the markings of her face and chest and then was gone, all traces of blood and ichor gone with it, and the faint sound of a thousand voices laughing ringing in Cerys’s ears. It could have been nothing but a dream, Cerys supposed, a hallucination brought on by too little to eat and too many days and nights subjected to the harsh mountain climate. But when she again looked into the lake, the unfamiliarity of her own reflection startled her. The priestess’s once dark hair had been leached of its deep color, falling silver across her shoulders, and the shadows of the markings she had made on her skin remained. She was Chosen, her people’s long hoped for champion. But when Cerys and her two acolytes finally returned to the clan’s village to share the good news, nothing was left but destruction. [/hider] [color=9e0b0f][b]The People[/b][/color] The Unbroken are currently made up of the remnants of Cerys’s birth clan and the tribe of the late Eranor Blackwater, now both under the command of Cerys. More will flock to her banner in time. The Arakkai: A race of pale skinned, dark haired mountain-dwelling people. They are as hardy as they are savage, a strong people that value skill in battle, freedom, and the vicious Red Gods they serve. [color=9e0b0f][b]Their Religion[/b][/color] The Unbroken worship the Pantheon, especially the Wanderer, the Red God they believe will one day unite all of the others. Name: The Wanderer, The Traveller, Messenger of the Red Gods or simply Dark Messenger Type: Red God Description: This powerful, if incorporeal, spirit makes the whole world his shrine. He cannot stay in one place for long. He is unique among the Red Gods for not being in opposition with any other gods, and those that worship all of the great spirits venerate him as the voice of the Pantheon, while others consider his presence as a sign of ill fortune. The Wanderer speaks to few, but those he chooses are marked for either greatness or great failure. [color=9e0b0f][b]Their Leader[/b][/color] [center][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/ebaa/f/2017/150/f/3/gaze_by_dropdeadcoheed-dbazz3c.png[/img][/center] Name: Cerys Shadowborne, Voice of the Messenger and Defender of the Unbroken Description: Much smaller than reputation paints her, Cerys stands at 5’4, 118 pounds. She is lithe and fit with long, silver hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. Race: Human (Arakkai) Faction/Unit: The Unbroken Location: The Godsfang Mountains Synopsis of Role: Leader-Priestess of The Unbroken [color=9e0b0f][b]Captain of the Guard[/b][/color] Name: Rhys Blackwater Description: Tall, dark haired and almost always to be found with a stern expression carved into his features. Race: Human (Arakkai) Faction/Unit: The Unbroken Location: The Godsfang Mountains Synopsis of Role: Protector of the Shadowborne Tribe [/hider]