Welcome to Regenlied, a sci-fi/fantasy RP set in a world where humanity is forced to harness science and magic in order to survive. With most of civilization confined to oasis cities amidst vast expanses of barren desert, the days of international conflict are ancient and gone. Now, the Regentier are the truest threat. The horrific creatures from above, the torrent that nearly drowned the world, and may yet still wash it away.
It is the duty of the Sonnelied National Defense Program to protect not only its largest city, but its numerous territories as well. From defensive expeditions, to large-scale hunts; where the Regentier fall, it is said, the SNDP rises. Once a singular entity, in recent decades a schism has formed. The old guards of the Vulkan Division prioritize the research and development of high-powered energy weapons, and are responsible for nearly all of the SNDP’s technological advancements since its foundation. Conversely, the newer Sarkaturges have pioneered the practice of grafting: drawing out humanity’s latent affinity for magic by grafting parts of dead Regentier to their bodies.
As the program’s newest recruits, your characters will discover that, while the Regentier may be the existential danger, they are not the only danger. Sonnehall’s High Command has been ordering joint operations between the divisions, and while the Vulkans and Sarkaturges may be working together, they are nonetheless competing, both for funding, and legitimacy in the eyes of High Command, and the people themselves. Tensions are high, interdivision conflicts are common, subterfuge and sabotage are the lull between the Regentier storms.
Hard falls the rain that scorches the earth.
Seated with the Bay of Kings to its back, and the Aegaen Wall at its face, Sonnehall is the oldest and most well-protected city in the country, perhaps even the world. While the vast stretches of barren plains between oases lead to an unorthodox rule, it is nonetheless absolute. The entirety of the nation’s defense program rests comfortably behind Sonnehall’s walls, and as such, the other cities and settlements must often rely on outriding forces to come to their aid. In most cases they arrive before they’re needed. In others…
Like most cities, Sonnehall is built downwards. Above, buildings rarely extend more than two stories high, and instead run several down, often connecting to one another. Streets and highways mark up the topside, while cavernous plazas and intertwining railways make a web of the undercity.
The Bay of Kings houses Sonnehall’s modest yet well-guarded harbor, and opens up into the brackish waters of the Engel Sea. Beset by beast and pirate alike, it is sailed elseways by only the brave, the foolish, and the greedy. Somewhere within lies the sovereign atoll called Forra, from which trade occasionally makes its way to Sonnehall’s docks. Little is known of the place; its sailors say nothing to the public, and little more to interrogators. In the absence of any recorded hostility, commerce continues.
The Aegaen Wall, older than the city itself, is Sonnehall’s first line of defense. It has not been breached in decades, and what Regentier do approach the wall are usually meager, and dealt with in swift exercises often televised to the public. On the other side of it is the Plain. A simple enough name for a simple enough place: miles upon miles upon yet even more miles of exactly nothing. Hard, dusty earth, sand in some places, rock in others, all of it utterly barren save for the pockets of arable land, which have become the basis for settlements, towns, and even a handful of cities, though nothing quite rivaling Sonnehall’s size.
Further and further out into the Plain, the oases became fewer, smaller. The Reachline, well past the most outflung settlement in Sonnelied, is the point past which there is, as far as anyone knows, nothing. Expeditions have been conducted lasting several months, and each time its members return claiming there is not a single speck of healthy earth to be found. Flat, lifeless, and seemingly endless. Some of the more delirious explorers claim that the sun never set again once they passed the Reach, others say it never rose. Most were unable to say anything.
For better or for worse, this is your home. Now when the storms come, it is your duty to help weather them.
When you ask questions of a storm, it answers in torrents and flashes of lightning. No one knows where the Regentier came from, or why they do what they do—they can’t be asked, they answer in nature’s own fury.
They are old, that much is known. As long as there have been clouds, there have been the beasts that come with them. They are also many, perhaps even endless. No matter how many are slain, more always come; there is always another battle.
Their appearances and abilities vary, and while there are records of recurring species, it is not uncommon for a new beast, or some hideous chimeric evolution to appear. Thankfully, the size and severity of a storm is often a reliable indicator of the power of the monsters within it. Currently, storms are categorized as follows:
Benign 1 A meager storm, bringing soft rains and often little else. The Regentier borne by these clouds are often small, unthreatening—though not unviolent—and easily dispatched by even untrained civilians. They do not tend to last very long.
Benign 2 Longer lasting than its predecessor, but still about as temperate. These are the most common storms, and B2 Regentier present minimal threat when met with a modicum of caution. Rarely, they can evolve into M1 storms, but this can often be predicted, and SNDP hunters can be dispatched in advance.
Malignant 1 M1 storms present the most common danger to Sonnelied, especially to settlements further from Sonnehall. Regentier that come with these storms often have abilities that, while on the lower-scale of power, still pose significant danger to untrained, unarmed civilians. There is also a chance for an M1 storm to evolve into an M2 with little warning.
Malignant 2 Here the danger spikes sharply. Regentier borne by M2 storms are often capable of significant feats of power, and certain “colossal” species may appear. Settlements and small towns in the path of an M2 are advised to evacuate, and meet with the inbound hunters for protection. In the case that the assault fails, civilians are advised not to return to their homes even after the skies have opened, until reinforcements have cleared the area. Rarely, M2 storms can evolve.
Malignant 3 Areas near the formation and especially in the path of M3 storms should evacuate immediately. Regentier of M3 storms are among the strongest and most deadly, and colossal species are much more likely to appear in multiples. In the case that an M3 results from the evolution of an M2, hunters are recommended to retreat until reinforcements arrive, or until the storm has passed, if the remaining Regentier are judged to be manageable.
Schicksal In the event that a storm’s rain turns black, hunters are advised to evacuate immediately.
Dating back to the country’s founding, there have always been individuals brave enough to fight back against the storm. Over the centuries, technology has evolved almost hand-in-hand with research of the Regentier. Modern hunters have access to a wide array of advanced weapons, armors, and vehicles.
However, in recent decades, the SNDP has been split into two competing divisions: the old guard Vulkans, and the newcomers, the Sarkaturges. While both divisions utilize humanity’s latent affinity for magic, their methods are wildly different from each other.
With black powder an ancient, unattainable relic, weapons are operated and enhanced via the energized remains of Regentier. As well, by tapping into a person’s latent well of power, they can be used like a battery, allowing them to operate arms and armor that would normally be unfeasible. Vulkan hunters are given access to high-potency energy weapons, as well as power armor, speed-enhancing exo-skeletons, and state-of-the-art prosthetics. They cannot, however, truly access their magical capabilities.
Having only emerged in the last few decades, the Sarkaturges carry a heavy stigma for turning people into monsters. It is true, of course—at least in a way. Sarkaturges tap into their affinity by grafting pieces of dead Regentier to their bodies, allowing them to perform extraordinary feats typically only achievable by their monstrous donors. The process is notoriously dangerous, with a mortality rate that would have landed any other procedure on the medical blacklists. In some places, that’s exactly where it is; in fact, the only place grafting is done is in the Sarkaturge Division’s wing. It is worth noting that the abilities granted by a graft are not the same as magic, though having a graft does enable one to learn it. Spellcasting is an entirely different and nascent art, with little research and very few practitioners. For the most part, Sarkaturges are limited to the feats granted to them by their grafts.
(In the case of Sarkaturge characters, FC's should be of them pre-grafting.) Name:
Age: (Vulkan applicants are typically age 17-18, while Sarkaturges recruit from 13 but do not send hunters into battle until 16.)
Place of Birth: (If not from Sonnehall, give an idea of how far from city your home is.)
Background Check: (Brief history of your character, what led them to join the SNDP, and why they chose the division they did.)
Graft / Weapon Specialty: (You are fresh off the operating table. Vulkans will have limited control over their power supply, and thus will begin with less-extreme weapons until they learn to channel properly. Sarkaturges will have minor grafts to start, which will be added to/replaced/enhanced over time.)
i make my meager offering. tell me how its shit so i can fix it
Name: Tobias Barnabas Schmidt
Place of Birth: Armloch, a settlement deep in the Plain, nearer to the Reachline than Sonnehall
Background Check: Tobias was born in Armloch, a backwater village at the edge of the world. He was one of sixteen Schmidts living and working on the family ranch; theirs was the twelfth generation to do so. The Schmidt patriarch always claimed they had some connection to the land, as if they drew their success out of the sand and rock. The old man's mysticism seemed foolish to Tobias even as a boy. His mind was drawn to that which was real. He took an early interest in the sciences. He wondered why the wind blew, why water flowed downwards, and how machinery functioned. It was the esoteric energy that powered everything around him that captured his imagination in particular. He obsessed over it. He would shadow Armloch's mechanics to learn all he could from them. Absorbing their teachings like a sponge, Tobias was never satisfied until he could mimic their every action. Every broken tool, vehicle, or farming implement set in front of him was a puzzle to be deciphered. The boy proved exceptional, for there were few challenges he could not meet.
Storms were an everyday occurrence out in the Plain. Any settlement wishing to last more than a fortnight needed to be prepared for the worst. Armloch found safety in its labyrinth of underground tunnels, both man-made and natural. Tight, twisting corridors where one wrong turn could land you in a pit of railroad spikes or a patch of landmines. Every settler had memorized the safe path to the bunkers where they were expected to wait out anything over a Benign 1. In practice, however, many of village's denizens choose to stay above ground to defend their property from the Regentier- the Schmidt family among them. The patriarch assured them that the land had protected his family for generations. There was nothing to fear from a light drizzle. Tobias's cousins often mocked him for joining the children and the elderly in the tunnels.
Tobias was seventeen when a roaring deluge washed over Armloch. It was sudden, too sudden for SNDP to be deployed ahead of time. Regentier were swarming the roads before anyone knew what was happening. The locals formed a posse to make a push for the bunkers, taking up what meager arms they had on hand to defend themselves. Tobias urged his family to join them, but the patriarch's voice rang louder and deeper. He was steadfast in his faith that they could hold the ranch.
By the time the hunters arrived Armloch was nothing more than a pile of scattered rubble. Only a handful had weathered the storm beneath the earth; there were far too few of them to rebuild. Most of the survivors took refuge in the nearby townships and hamlets. A few- Tobias among them- followed the SNDP back to Sonnehall. There was nothing left for him here but dust and bitterness. Perhaps he could new purpose in the capital, where the technology he'd always obsessed over was at its bleeding edge.
Maybe he could ensure nothing like Armloch ever happened again.