Unfortunately we're quite full. My original intention was to keep the group very small. I ended up accepting a few more people than I'd planned because of the recommendations of others already in here, but at this point I need to draw the line.
At the borderlands, where the foothills gave way to flat grasslands and the great mountain ranges were no more than a hazy grey band looming over the distant horizon, the Akkadean ambassador and his party were met by their escorts. There was a modest party to receive them rather than some grand entourage or small army, but it was enough to be polite if only just. The head of the escort was flanked by an honor guard of ten armored warriors bearing axes. Further back, that their presence would not offend, there were two dozen slaves acting as attendants and porters (for the rocky lands here were not conducive to drawing carts by oxen or horse) as they shadowed their masters.
The man who looked to be the leader of the escort stepped forward. To call him a man was perhaps being generous; this was a youth barely old enough to have a beard. Even so, the presence of a sword at his side, its exquisitely decorated scabbard, his haughty countenance, and even the way that he groomed what little facial hair he had demonstrated that this was some sort of noble.
In an flawed and accented, yet passable enough dialect of the Aïryan tongue, the boy proclaimed, “On behalf of Lugal (blessed be his reign!), you are bid good tidings and warm welcome to his realm. I am he who is called Ut-ahum, the fifteenth son of Lugal Zulmash.”
“Praise,” spoke a respondent echo and violent whisper originating from an inanimate mouth accompanied by the steeled gaze of an entity whose eyes were not of the typical kind. “Good tidings onto ye. As was written in the epistle, we are Ahn-khaan.” It stood looming, a fair few heads taller than the next, as it lifted its lifeless, yet blistering gaze from the noble lord and out towards the distance and the impression it wrought into the mind of this individual of stone.
They were no ordinary man, much like how the sons of Lugal proclaim their right and justice from their birth. This fellow, however, need not whisper word of his origin for others to comprehend his station, for he was made of stone. Life made infinite in inanimate form. No different from the silhouette of man, merely taller. Slender but bulky, adorned with the unnecessary garments and robes expected of those who came to impress and honour in the same sentence. A shimmering mask of thin bronze covering most of his otherwise uneven face, adorned with three finely cut gems and accentuated with master-craftsmanship-like embossing. Accompanied by a moderate band of servants and assistants clothed much the same as themself, only that they needed the protection from the elements that clothing brought, and lacked the domineering importance which the uniqueness of their master produced.
The stone-man named Ahn-khaan took a step forward, a thud audible at his motion, and moved next with his left hand forward onto the yet distant horizon, the dust of the travel shaking off of his figure as he did. “A fine land we see towards the distance, Ut-ahum, son of Lugal.” Clear courtesy in his gesture, undoubtedly he had learned of the nation he had chosen to venture, but sparking topics of conversation was one important aspect of his task here.
And in turn, the boy almost scoffed. “What, this hinterland? Savage, backwater hills as far as you can see. We have many days of travel ahead of us before we will come to greater parts, so let us be off. Perhaps along the way we may stay at some of my own holdings, where the Lugal’s are more sparse.”
A curious glimpse was all that was reciprocated between the young prince’s groveling and the monotone Ahn-khaan before their continued venture.
The first days were not so impressive. The many porters must have been well trained, for the slaves were always first to break camp. Most of the slaves were trusted to press ahead of the group and prepare the next site with felt tents (where there was not some herder’s hovel to requisition, anyways), fires, and warm food. And of course, being further ahead, their presence could not offend any of their betters.
With time, the narrow game trails and rarely used dirt paths widened and became true roads, even paved in some places. The trees and ungrazed fields also grew much more infrequent until everywhere was ploughland or open ranch, and only a few trees so remote or scraggly as to not be worth the bother remained unfelled. Where at first there had only been the occasional band of shepherds tending their herds, many agricultural hamlets existed deeper into the Akkylonian lands. There was a strange mix--in one place there would be a massive village owned in the name of some lord, with one or two great fields all tended to by throngs of slaves and their overseers. Yet in other places there were clusters of smaller farms owned by free men and worked by families or clans.
“And this field and the thousand oxen and all its herders are my father’s,” Ut-ahum pointed out once. “And that one, too. And the cropland yonder,” he went on to say on many further occasions. “But that, there? The village beyond? That is mine,” he eagerly announced after the fourth day. “Let us visit it; there you may be made more comfortable, and I can attend to my holding for a night.”
Ahn-khaan made a polite look backwards, honouring his entourage with his presence of mind, and noticing their exhaustion. He nodded as he turned back towards his accompaniment. “Let us, they are bound to be as lucious and prosperous as your fishermen’s bounties of prior seasons.” Upon finishing his response, Ahn-khaan turned towards the yet distant but approaching domain of his escort.
Needless to say, he did not go beyond realization of the maneuvering of the Akkylonian supreme lord in matching him with such a manling as Ut-ahum. A clear insult for those experienced with the arts of diplomacy such as he. But a card to use all the same. With luck, Ut-ahum could prove to be the first piece of the grand game unfolding between two nations, and whilst the ambitious and ever-conquering Lugal desires one thing, Ahn-khaan’s master wished for another.
The smallfolk of the village, upon seeing the axe-bearing soldiers and their master approach, bustled to assemble themselves. One stewardly looking villager, a petty magistrate or perhaps just the locals’ headman, granted the party greetings and excessive pleasantries. The many folk glanced constantly at Ahn-khaan through the corner of their eyes, but were sure to never stare, and the steward did not address any of the foreigners directly but simply referred to the whole group as “Our master and his guests.”
Ut-ahum did not bother to elucidate them as to the identity (though surely they knew) nor the purpose of Ahn-khaan and his own escorts either, so they rested and were served for a time. The porters restocked their supplies, and then erelong they were off once again. Despite his posturing, the young Ut-ahum had done nothing to inspect the fields, or see to it that the laborers were working, or even speak to steward of any such matters. Instead he spoke of his father and of a few of the countless past exploits of Lugal (just be his holy hands!). For every tale that the Akkadeans already knew and had to hear repeated, the proud son recounted two that they hadn’t. He spoke rarely of his own accomplishments, or of his elder brothers, whose mere mention caused his upper lip to stiffen, and their feats. For a short time, the soldiers shared their own tales of the Lugal (forever may he rule!) and of their own experiences following him on campaigns. Unlike the sword, which conveyed wealth and nobility but not necessarily anything in the means of competence or valor, the Akkylonians regarded the axe as something sacred. Thus it was bestowed only upon the most elite soldiers, the Lugal’s own men, and those that guarded the great city of Akk-ila and its immediate surroundings.
In due time they departed that hamlet and were back on their way. The roads were frequented much more in these parts, and they passed and were passed by various travelling peddlers and caravans hauling grain and other supplies toward the great city. The road that they followed ran north to Akk-ila, alongside the great river and rarely were its banks out of sight. Date trees and farms were everywhere; this must have been the great Akkylonian ploughland. Glorified as it was in all the tales, it was not so grand. The soil here was dark, muddy, and rich, and it annoyingly clung to one’s sandals or bare feet. Even the farmsteads had a filthy look about them, built from brown or tan mud brick for lack of timber or stone quarries in this area.
Another two days saw them finally nearing Akk-ila itself. The flat floodplains by the river was at last broken on the horizon by the rise of a distant hilltop--only that was no natural hill, but rather the foundations of the greatest ziggurat that would ever be. The ziggurat was not being built from mud brick, of course, for that material was ignoble and ephemeral. So teams toiled endlessly under the sun to haul massive stone blocks from distant quarries, that the ziggurat could be built immortal and eternal.
Even the airy Ut-ahum was quietened as that grandiose beginning began to dominate the horizon, so awe-striking and imposing was the sight. There simply were no words. The great river, which had dominated the landscape for the past days, was still there, but now it was utterly dwarfed, a child beside a giant.
“It is like a land-born sun,” responded Ahn-khaan to the distant landscape’s visage as it spoke to him without need for words themselves. It was impressive, no doubt could be had about that prospect, however at the same time, he disliked it for its dominance and demanding subjugation of the land in which it inhabited. The building itself spoke not of why it was built, but he knew that those who wished for its construction had desires and ambitions which could pose danger to those who found themselves stuck therein.
He turned to Ut-ahum, the stone face and copper mask in which he was blessed to occupy feigned his mental worry, and continued promptly, “Most impressive.”
Ut-ahum caught the unease that even the golem’s face betrayed, but he misunderstood its source. In what was supposed to be assurance, he idly spoke, “Daunting and ambitious, but my father says that it will be finished in due time, certainly within our lifetimes. The architects have reported that progress has been faster than was expected. Of course, finding enough labor to sustain its construction has been something of a challenge.”
A vast labor camp was sprawled out across the plains all around, with hundreds of various tents and structures both temporary and permanent. Even from afar, where the distant silhouettes appeared only as uncountable ants, it was easy to see that there must have been thousands of them. With all those little villages of two or three score souls that they’d passed on their way here, it was maddening to think of how many entire settlements could have been populated by all those laborers, and of how many more toiled to grow the food, brew the ale, and quarry the stone to sustain such a vast operation. Of course, the boy Ut-ahum likely understood nothing of such logistics and their extent, so how could he appreciate the full weight of even his own words?
“Not merely labor, Ut-ahum. Resources, motivation, purpose; projects like these do not live off of the air. Ambition is needed. Akka, much like Akk-ila, is birthed by ambitions such as those of Lugal, and Khaar-am-khaar,” he interjected at the boy’s misplaced sense of assistance and reassurance, politeness explicit in his otherwise cold voice. As he gazed upon the ziggurat, a construct which undoubtedly dwarfed the rest of its city in both purpose and significance, he viewed it like the will of the Ambitious One, merely that it originated not from him, but another.
The manner of its construction, similar yet different to those of the dreamers in Akka, carried another atmosphere in its entirety. Whilst those same dreamers persist, but scattered amongst them there was another kind of force acting towards the finalization of such a grandiose construct; those of slaves and the begotten men and women who work not with fire in their eyes and strength in their chest, but with monotony in their intent and food their only desire.
“Indeed, constructs such as these, the lifework of those blessed by fortune and prowess, do indeed require much to be completed.” Ahn-khaan could not help but feel conflicted at the sight of something which seemed to challenge the legitimacy of the grand project which was Akka, a city built with perfection in sight and endlessness as its destination. And not only was it produced on a similar scale as to his home, but within some measly decades in comparison.
The party kept walking for the better part of the day, of course, but they did not truly or fully leave the ziggurat behind. It loomed so large upon the horizon that it remained there, its vague silhouette watching over them, until they came upon Akk-ila itself. A large mud brick wall encompassed the city, though already there were hovels and shanties built outside the perimeter. Another wall was already partially built to encompass them as well, and further inside one could see even more concentric walls. It was a formidable city, but also one that spoke of hasty construction and poor urban planning. Then again, it’d been raised from the ground of empty plains within the span of just a generation and a half, so what else was to be expected?
A massive gate wrought from unbroken logs of cedar guarded the outermost gate, but it had been pulled open for the day that the merchants and farmers could come and go about their business in the city and then be well on their way back to their villages and hinterlands by duskfall. The roads were well paved inside the city, and they bustled with makeshift stalls and merchants set up all along. But the axe-bearers walked ahead of the group, and the awesome shine of their bronze armor struck the throngs with fear and admiration; they parted to make way for the delegation.
Here, even more than in the muddy and dirty agrarian villages and ploughlands by the river, there was the overpowering reek of filth. There were magnificent sculptures and large stellae adorned with lapis lazuli and other extravagant stones, and then ten paces ahead would be piles of excrement--human and otherwise. And though the city had its statutes on animals and laws forbade swine being left to run loose upon the streets, there were still enough merchants with their fetid donkeys and goats to make the air smell of reeking fur as well.
In the center of the city stood Lugal’s palace. Ut-ahum and his men walked the Akkadeans right up to its doors, and then with a short farewell they left them to the palace guards. The delegation were led into the palace and brought to a parlor besides a hearth, and then the waiting began.
Ahn-khaan, a delegate diplomat of Akka, was sent on a diplomatic mission to Akk-ila. Along with a group of scribes. He was met at the border and escorted by the most insultingly young and under-accomplished prince that Lugal had to offer. They toured the Akkylonian lands and talked a bit, axes are apparently pretty cool according to Lugal. Plebes are impressed by stone-man. They saw the Ziggurat, Ahn-khaan was pretty impressed and insulted at the same time. The gist of the post is that Lugal takes every turn to insult most people (maybe not, but it’s still accurate in this case).
Identity: Zulmash was his name by birth, and many are the other names that have been bestowed upon him since: He Who Felled the First Tree, Humbaba's Bane, Lord and Bringer of Civilization, Breaker of Stones, Master of the Ploughlands and Rivers, King of Akk-ila. He is best known throughout his homeland and the barbarian reaches beyond as Lugal, a title of his own construction. It means many things: 'great' and 'giant' and 'strong' and 'king,' but his role could be summarized as 'God-King'. More accurately, he claims himself to be not quite a god. He can command beasts and men, but not nature itself, so by his own reckoning that makes him two parts divine and one part man. Still, he is Lugal.
He commands a great deal of fear and respect, but for all that he has done for his people he is not beloved. That is no matter, for he cares little for finery or the excessive praise of his name, though he does certainly hold himself in high esteem. If one were ignorant of his past acts and great exploits, he could be observed for a day and it might be easy to dismiss him as a petty warlord, but in truth his grandeur and might is far more than meets the eye and so the people know that he is indeed Lugal, not some mere warlord.
Potency: Lugal possesses fortitude of both body and mind as well as an unwavering ambition, fueled by a confidence that is tempered just enough by reality that it has not given way to empty arrogance. Though a peerless warrior by mortal standards, in combat he remains no more than a warrior--he does not hurl lightning nor conjures flames. If he finds himself in battle, he relies upon such mundane weapons as his own hands, or his favored weapon of the axe. What makes him formidable is that he does not fight alone, and is wont to march with an army of Akkylonian men at his back and great hordes of beasts as his vanguard and heralds.
A charismatic figure that leads naturally and by example, Lugal’s aura is such that men and even animals find it difficult to resist his will. That is his true power--commanding and dominating all around him, that they may fall in line and take their places in the order that he envisions. Rebellion against his righteous rule is a rare thing, and the few acts of defiance against his will that do happen are of course answered with violence and force from his part, for he is a pragmatic ruler and can wield cruelty and brutality just as deftly as mercy. He appreciates gratitude and of course prefers to be loved rather than hated, as is only natural for a man, but in the end he knows that those things are not so necessary and cares foremost about maintaining his image of might and authority. More than their adoration or thanks, the Lugal demands that his people display proper obedience and respect, or failing that, fear.
To be clear, his magical powers take the form of four Auras listed in order of increasing importance: He has an Aura of Splendor, that gives him his grand ambitions and glorious image, an Aura of Might, that has slowed his aging and bestowed him a robust and youthful body, an Aura of Tenacity, that gives him his stubbornness and mental grit, and an Aura of Authority, that grants him the power to impose his will upon men and beast alike.
Ambition: Lugal values order; that is why he has created civilization and brought laws, hierarchy, and purpose to his people. He views the conquest and eventual destruction of nature as his sacred and ultimate charge. The forests and hills are evil and full of mystery and horrors, so they must be tamed and made into fertile farmlands. The monsters and beasts must be broken and made to heel, that they may be tamed and put to work towards useful purposes as the gods surely intended. This worldview and realization of order leaves no place for nomadic or wild peoples of the sort that Zulmash and his kind once were; those that do not till the land or work in cities of their own volition do themselves a disservice and are like animals milling about aimlessly, failing to achieve their potential and realize their purpose. Upon encountering such wild peoples, the Lugal and his followers enslave them that they may be exploited both for their own good and for the benefit of his kingdom as a whole.
Another of Lugal's aspirations is to build the greatest ziggurat that is or ever shall be. Aside from the prestige and glory of seeing a mountain of brick raised by his will and to honor his name, he believes that if he could build a temple high enough to brush the skies, he could climb its stair and wrest power over heaven just as he has already claimed dominion over the land of Akk-ilon below and the animals and men that dwell upon it. In doing so, he would achieve theosis and ascend to fully realize his potential as a god. Then he would be able to finally command heaven and conquer nature. He would raze the forests and flatten the hills, and he would bend and warp the rivers to his will just as potters shape wet clay, and finally the tyranny of the Chaos would finally end and the people could bathe in his benevolence and mercy rather than the uncaring and pitiless whims of nature.
Life: In his youth, Zulmash and one of his companions dared to do what no others would--they crept into the dreaded Cedar Forest, where monsters lurk and gods once lived, if the legends are to believed. They followed their noses, for there was a certain scent reminiscent of honey, only more intoxicating by far, that clung to the breeze. As they ventured into the forest, they grew lost and were eventually ambushed by the Humbaba, a monstrous being that guarded it zealously, and Zulmash's companion was mortally wounded. Nonetheless, the two managed to defeat the Humbaba and Gilgamesh forced the monster to guide him through the forest. At the end was a great bush that bore golden berries, and Zulmash gained his magical powers through the consumption of those berries. He kept the Humbaba and all its sons as laythings and slaves thereafter, forcing them to harvest the trees of their own domain to offer as tribute. For this feat of greatness and for the magical might that this brought him, Zulmash was recognized as Lugal.
Lugal would now be considered an elder by most folk's accounting, as it has been some time since the passage of his fiftieth year. Even so, his mind and body remain sharp and his great powers have granted him a youthful vigor that is not so easily dispelled. He has the look of one who is more like half his age, even if he is not quite still in his peak. As Zulmash brought civilization to the lands and built up the very cities and institutions that have elevated his people to greatness, and so he sees it as only right that he takes his just due. He has wealth beyond measure; little in the form of gold or trinkets, but he personally lays claim to many great tracts of the land in his kingdom and all the slaves that work those regions, and he similarly owns vast herds of thousands of goats, sheep, swine, and cattle.
In the earliest days, there was nothing, not even the empty shell of a world. Then Chaos!
From the emptiness erupted fire and light, water, air, and earth. These primordial forces clashed with terrible power, and from their violence was born life. The beings that emerged were as terrible and primal as their time. Giants, monstrous beasts, and even some great figures that would be remembered in the tales of survivors and eventually regarded as gods or demons. This First Era was a time of great violence. The world was forged, but then the land was cleaved and reshaped a hundred times over as these beings clashed with one another alongside the ancient forces that had thrust them into existence.
In the end there was no victor. The primordial forces grew tamer with every passing millennium, until there came a time when the mightiest of breezes was nothing but the faintest whisper compared to the storms of old, the hottest flame no more than a candle before the sun of the first fires, and the world was not so savage. The children that Chaos had begotten did not grow any less wild, and they kept fighting endlessly; they slew one another and destroyed the very lands and fortresses they had ruled, leaving their surviving minions and degenerate offspring to scatter across the land and hide fearfully in the shadows. In the end the children of Chaos dwindled so much that they at last began to realize their time was over. Some of the remnants laid down in rest and began a long, or perhaps endless, slumber, whilst others departed the world altogether for more distant lands beyond our comprehension.
The signs of the First Era still remain for those that know with a discerning eye. In some places, the greatest fortresses and works of the past might still be visible above the ground as forlorn ruins. Within ancient caves there are not just crude paintings depicting an early era, but also there are the lost and long-buried remnants of the ancients, and perhaps even the occasional snore from primordial beings that still slumber. In the wildest and most untamed of wilderness, there may still roam great and extraordinary beasts.
Yet aeons have passed, and now new masters emerge to dominate the world. The Dawn of Civilization has come; everywhere it seems that the wilderness is being conquered as cities, villages, fortresses, and kingdoms are erected. This time they are populated by mortals, be they weakened offspring from the great and powerful children of Chaos, or perhaps descendants of whatever servants or playthings entertained such gods and demons of legend, or perhaps even just animals that have found their intelligence. Most of these mortal civilizations arise and are shaped not organically and of their own, but rather by the will and leadership of great sorcerers.
For in their rage, the ancients had left some of their weapons and relics scattered across ancient battlefields. Similarly consumed by lethargy, they later abandoned their treasures and the secrets of their magic upon the earth or inside their crumbling holds. There those secrets rested for untold years before they fell into the hands of new owners, those inquisitive mortals that harnessed the lost powers of the past to grow stronger and lord over their own kind as wizards. The age of Chaos and Its children has long passed. Now it is the Second Era--the Reign of Sorcerers!
Sorcerers
The names are mostly interchangeable--call them sorcerers, witches, wizards, magicians, magi, thaumaturges, artificers, or demigods; for our purposes here, they are all practically the same thing. This RP takes heavy inspiration from mythology and folklore of all different sorts, so magic can take many different forms and our wizards will likely have very different arrays of powers. These differing magical abilities probably won’t be on parity when it comes to power level, but that’s fine by me. Because magic is often situational, nebulous, and vague, I suspect that even if I wanted to it’d be impossible to define, much less, enforce, an equal level of potency in all of our characters without destroying diversity. So I will simply be very permissive about what magic can do in our setting, and hopefully with a small and generally good group we can have that much greater range of freedom without suffering for it. Magic can be acquired in numerous different ways; above, I implied that the most common means would probably be to discover some artifact or long-forgotten secret from the great and powerful precursor beings, and then gain magic from that. However, I am entirely open to other means. Perhaps there is something special about your wizard’s lineage that left latent power in his or her blood, until it was somehow activated. Perhaps your sorcerer’s magical powers were gained through the consumption of a magical being (perhaps even the flesh of another sorcerer?!), substance, or potion. Regardless, the means of acquiring magic shouldn’t be something that’s very easy.
That leads me to talk about some traits that I wish to be common for magic in this setting: Potency. Magic is very powerful, and though it can come in various forms, sorcerers practically are demigods on a whole level of their own, far above the abilities of all but the greatest of mortals to challenge on even footing. Think of Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings or Sith Lords from Star Wars, for example. Mystery. This will certainly be more of a soft magic system, without rigid overarching rules or much of an explanation for how magic functions or comes into existence. Besides being thematically appropriate that magic be strange and poorly understood, this works best in a collaborative story setting because it enables many forms of magic to exist without precluding or contradicting one another. This enables greater variety and freedom, and hopefully less plot holes, internal inconsistencies, and suspension of belief rather than more. Of course, some people prefer more hard magic systems, so if you really want to state that your sorcerer derives power from some force (like mana) or physical object and explain the constraints of that magic and its source, then perhaps something can be worked out. Limitations. As magic can come in various flavors, as alluded above, one sorcerer shouldn’t necessarily be able to do what another one can, and as an exception to the general rule of mystery outlined above, I would like for you to at least have in mind what the general limitations of your specific character’s magical powers are. For instance, one might be able to mentally dominate and control malleable minds like those of animals or even dim-witted or emotionally vulnerable people, but not mentally powerful beings like fellow wizards or a determined and disciplined warrior that is wise to your tricks. Or one might be able to fly, but only for a certain length of time and not through storms, etc. As a general rule, things like time travel, use of alchemy to create gunpowder and bombs, and raising millions of undead are not going to be allowed because they are too extreme and not conducive to the sort of theme that we are going for. If you are in doubt as to whether something is permissible, just ask. Rarity. This is the biggest one; magic users are meant to be very powerful, yet exceeding rare. Think once again of the Lord of the Rings, and how unlike in World of Warcraft or the Elder Scrolls where magic-users are everywhere, there’s just a handful of wizards like Gandalf scattered across the world. Perhaps an even better example is Thulsa Doom from Conan, who is the last of a near extinct race of men and practically the only magic-user.
Setting
As this is the Dawn of Civilization, there are some things to take into account so that we can all be on the same page and maintain consistency in the setting. Note that almost all of these things come with caveats and potential exceptions, consider all of the following a rough guideline rather than a hard rule or limit. If you think that in some way you might be going beyond some of these guidelines, maybe it’s worth discussing, but I’ll probably be fine with it.
The denizens of this world are all very humanoid, if not entirely human. Furthermore, the civilized people (with the obvious exception of the few individuals that have become sorcerers) are quite mundane and should not possess any blatantly magical or extraordinary abilities or traits; if their ancestors ever had such powers, they were lost in the ages past. Different groups of people will naturally have different races and look different, and in some cases they might even be wholly different species; perhaps Neanderthal analogs, or elves-lite (pointy ears and slender bodies, minus the immortality and being superior to humans in every way). Cyclopes or blemmyes (headless men) would exist on the very periphery of what is allowed; full beastmen, orcs, and the like are too extreme.
I envision that the civilizations of this world will be set mostly in the early Bronze Age (technology circa 2000 B.C.) and will be smaller, weaker, and more diverse than that of typical NRP settings. Allow me to elaborate upon each of those points:
Individuals matter more in such settings, especially given that our primary characters (the wizards that lord over these civilizations, be it indirectly or directly) have magic and are superhuman, comparable with story figures like Saruman, Thulsa Doom, Maui, etc. That is why I would like this to be a mostly character-driven and focussed story, with the narration more coming from the angle of what individuals (probably the wizards, or people close to them) are doing, rather than the point of view being like that of some omnipotent god as their perception encompasses what the entire state and all its apparatus are doing.
Early history was dominated by small agrarian villages for many thousands of years, before the urban revolution would eventually lead to the foundation of proper cities as we know them today. These cities were often independent and localized powers that only ruled enough hinterland to sustain their own population, and that limited their size; however, given our setting with wizards championing advancement, it makes sense that there would be much greater centralization. The development of proper kingdoms and empires rather than mere city-states and tribal groups is possible in our setting, so don’t feel that social organization is confined to what historically existed in the early Bronze Age. Feudalism or similar systems are fine. Still, cities should not exceed around 100,000 in population at the absolute most, and any city with more than 10,000 people would be large. Just keep that in mind--something like a vast empire with millions of people is a bit too much for our setting. Similarly, standing professional armies would be rather small (if they exist at all) due to the inefficiency of labor and the difficulty in producing a large enough surplus to support many people that don’t directly contribute to the sustainment of the population, and warfare would probably be conducted largely by normal citizens levied into armies for a season or two. The limited technology also limits the speed of transportation and spread of information, and therefore contributes to a difficulty in projecting power over vast areas.
This segues into my next point--since we have the first civilizations to emerge after a very long gap-period where nothing really went on, which was preceded by some vague time of creation and Chaos, there probably won’t need to be excessive backstory. NRPs often suffer from excessive premature worldbuilding while everybody sets up their sheets, with hardly any of those details becoming relevant to the IC, much less making it there. Some backstory between our wizards and civilizations is okay, and it certainly makes sense that the people of this world might have many legends and myths about the First Era (of dubious veracity, of course!) but for the most part I would discourage a heavy emphasis on the background and history of your civilization. Instead, I think it best to place the emphasis more on the wizard--how did they attain their power, and what have they already used it to do? What would they like to do in the future? From that frame and point of view you can still answer many questions about your civilization’s formation and roots whilst retaining the emphasis mainly on the characters.
OOC Goals and Thoughts
With the soft magic system such that it is and our rules and guidelines being kept loose, there will of course be a disparity in the power level between various characters. That isn’t inherently a problem, though it does mean there’s a lot of potential for abuse in the form of powergaming. It has to be emphasized that this is not a “game” to be “won” but rather a collaborative storytelling effort, so some maturity and restraint are necessary. Though Oraculum and I would rather leave everyone with a great deal of freedom, we will be forced to intervene if such powergaming becomes apparent.
The intention is to keep the planning phase for this RP rather short. Too many RPs on this site, especially NRPs that act similar to this one, stall in the pre-IC phase and don’t take off. For that reason, character sheets can (and are even encouraged to) be very brief and just contain the broad strokes. This is the Dawn of Civilization anyways, so there shouldn’t be some huge and ornate history to write out. Instead I would prefer a “show rather than tell” approach where your first IC post acts as a sort of introduction that tells one more about your character. You do not need to go so heavy on the exposition as to render the character sheet useless by virtue of restating everything in it but in even greater detail; ideally you’d just use the barebones established in the character sheet as a platform and quickly build off from there to establish detail, motivations, and so on.
So what ‘barebones’ should be in a character sheet?
Identity: What your character is known as. This may include names, titles, nicknames and more, and vary between different peoples and social circles.
Potency: What they can do and are good at. This includes experience, mundane skills and crafts, and, of course, their sorcerous abilities. You have a lot of liberty in choosing the latter, as long as it’s workable in a roleplaying context and not excessive in scope. Things like time-travel, future sight, razing mountains at a whim and summoning millions-strong hordes of the undead are beyond the scope of what is permissible, but short of that sort of thing, let your imagination run wild.
Ambition: For this section, name one major goal your character has set for themselves, and explain why that’s the case in a couple of sentences maximum. This ought to give enough insight into their thoughts and desires, lofty or humble that they might be, without going through the hassle of an extended personality section.
Life: Optional section. You may use it to give a brief overview of your character’s history. Preferably use this for events that you cannot organically mention in the introductory post.
At Some Point™ I definitely want to wrap up the Ventus arc, and I think there's a good chance that at least post concerning that comes out within a week or two. I'm questioning the scale of things though because I'm afraid it might end up being more like 3 posts worth of content. I could probably do two or three posts back to back but triple posting to myself would be too much. I need you, Capy!
This is the first post of a series that I’ll be doing to wrap up Mk. III.
Some of the Architect’s backstory and motivation is revealed in a flashback. Then, shifting into the present, he decides that the time is right to bring his plans into fruition. He begins moving his entire palace (which is a great hall buried within a small and hollow moon, if you’ve forgotten) through the Celestial Spheres and down towards Galbar.
Upon a throne there rested a withered husk, once mighty of body, but now with flesh yellowed, wrinkled, and sagging. His throne had become his sarcophagus, his palace a tomb and his house of eternity. The thunderous pounding of footsteps reverberated through the stale and dusty room, rousing the sleeper from his sepulchral reverie. But even now, the god did not seem alarmed. Never was he surprised, for he claimed to have already seen all things. So it was with something resembling expectancy in his eyes that he looked to the visitor and whispered through the tongue of the mind, ‘I foretold this day. Your efforts were admirable, A̴̢̡͠͠ḿ̡҉̵ṕ̡͝͠ḩ̵̀̕͟ì̶̶͞b̶̛̕̕҉ò̸̵̡͟l͏̕e̢̕s͏̶҉̵ , but your toil ultimately in vain.’
The visitor never stopped his advance, calmly walking past row after row of golden pillars down a great hallway leading to the dias and the throne atop it. Nothing remained of the once-magnificent rug beneath his feet save for a few fraying gilded threads.
‘Mortals are like the brazen wicks of so many candles; fickle, bound to fade away. On rare occasions one might be truly great and spread, and create a great inferno, but in the end there will be only ash all the same. They are flawed by nature, and can never grow to be greater than the sum of the might and labor that you put into the making of their wax, dousing of their wick, molding of their form...it, like all things, is bound to one day end, for not even gods have vigor enough to carry on for perpetuity.
‘And did I not warn you that when the toil became too great, as I see it now has, that you would release yourself of the burden and finally abandon your fruitless labor? I bid you look down now and witness for yourself: with the last of us departed, all heavenly and guiding voices have fallen silent; the fruits of the land rot, the soil turns barren, and the very air sickens in sullen stagnation. It is in this manner that old age befalls the world, as it already has done unto us. In this final age, darkness shall be preferred to light, and death thought more profitable than life; no one shall raise his eyes to heaven, the dead shall far outnumber the living, and finally there will remain nobody at all upon the mortal plane. Wind and weather shall persist, in a fashion and for a time, and aided by such forces ruin and disorder will claim the world. Only the remnants of temples and obelisks shall remain to tell of us and our acts, yet in due time even the stones are destined to become dust and then nothing remember. The world will return to Chaos, as if we had never existed, and none shall have been any better off for all the years that you had delayed what was inevitable.
‘That is why I counseled you to cease your rebellion; warring against Destiny is as foolish a task as one might expect to be conjured in the mind of a madman, and yet you did so and always insisted upon your sanity to the contrast of all your peers’ supposed madness. Do you accept now what I tried to teach you so long ago? By now even one so stubborn as you should have realized the truth of my words--the only purpose of life is to inward perfection, and to prepare yourself for death. Immortality is unattainable. Accept this wisdom and grow from it, and I suppose that your labors shall have then at least borne some small fruit, late as the harvest was.’
The visitor was mounting the steps to the dias, nearly upon the throned god now. He climbed, and stopped only when he loomed directly over the decrepit god. He narrowed his one eye, and asked, “And when the winds stop blowing, and we move and think no more, and the world slips back into its primordial state of Chaos, what is to come then?”
‘Perhaps there will be another tiny spark that spawns a great blaze, and for a time, there will be a new cosmos and a new world, and the wheel shall have turned once again until that fire burns out.’
Ả̶̢̬̻m̸̲͆̆p̷̰͕̠̔̚h̸̻̜̞͑̓͠ḯ̷̠̦̗̎b̷̯͓̐͐̾o̶̙͔̖̓̌l̶͍̉̎͜͠è̴̥̒ͅs̴͕̳̏̆͜ allowed the hint of a triumphant smile to etch its way onto his stoic face. “I think so, too. But you misinterpret my intentions, O Wise One; I would live through the long night to see this next dawn, for I have yet to abandon my greatest burden--that burning desire for eternity.”
A frown might have appeared on the decrepit one’s face if his muscles still had the vigor to move. Instead, he conveyed his frustration and displeasure through telepathy. ‘Do you not listen? You remain blind, even now, to the impossibility and futility of your raging against fate? There is no way to sustain yourself long enough to see that day, no guarantee that it will even com-’
And with that the final brick crumbled, and everything collapsed with a sudden violence.
“I will MAKE a way! A new world will arise, for I shall be the Architect of its making, even if I must labor until the ages of ages and expend every last ounce of my strength...and of yours.”
He raised a massive fist and struck down the God of Gods with a single mighty blow to the head. From the corpse of his oldest friend he drained every last ounce of power and might, all that could sustain him, until withered flesh became as paper and then as dust, and bones no more than sand. And then he collapsed, somehow wearier for it. In the days to come, he would do the same to each and every one of his fellows, and to what remained of the dying world’s mortal life. That grim task brought to a close, he found himself truly alone, sitting upon his former master’s stone throne.
He felt weak even after all of that. But his willpower was stronger than it had ever been; it was stronger than the foundations of the earth, than words could describe, than the imagination could even grasp.
The true work hadn’t even begun.
The Architect wallowed in a fevered state, even if he masked it with smoke and projections of majesty and power. The great, bulbous, all-devouring eye about the center of his head was of course an illusion, for no eye could truly see all things and stare directly at a dozen gods at once. First it had been his skin; he had taken on a mummified look. His stone throne and palace, those that had been his former master’s, had been the only tangible relics of the past that he had brought to this new world before its foundation. He had done so out of practical reasons, in truth. The palace, buried deep within a moon, had been a suitable vessel for traversing the void of space, and time and energy had of course been of the essence. He hardly could have afforded to fashion his own vessel even if doing so might have freed him from carrying the burdens of the past.
And what burdens they had been! It was to his horror that his flesh had started to take on the dessicated and mummified look of his dead master; for a long time he had refused to so much as look upon the stone throne for fear that he would grow like the one who had sat on it previously. So he always toiled, confident that labor would spare him the fate of growing so decrepit, but instead the endless burdens of erecting the Seals around his chosen place and carving out an entire universe from nothingness had left him even more broken. Muscles tore, and his body and strength had begun failing.
Dismayed but not dissuaded, he had compensated for the sickly constitution by relying more and more upon the power of his mind and magical might. The atrophy continued, and eventually even the ligaments and tendons below fell off or else rotted away.
Now his bones were ancient, yellowed, and cracked; exposed to the world save for a thin layer of slime and the vaporous illusions that he wove around himself and wore like clothes. The slightest movement required a telekinetic heave, and that was the true reason why he had collapsed upon his throne and not moved since he’d sown the seeds for this world.
Fortunately, none of the seeds that were to become caretakers seemed to have perceived his weakness. He thought back to the one with a head of fire; her challenging of his might had been terrifying, for he knew all too well that even the greatest of gods could be slain, but it seemed that through stifling her first acts of rebellion, any thoughts of rebellion that the others harbored had been slain in their infancy.
So he had waited in a half-delirious state while they had set themselves upon the field he’d built. They furrowed it and helped the other seeds to grow for generation upon generation and his plan had come to fruition. It was slow but sure by the notions of mortals and gods, but to his warped sense of reality, it had been hardly an instant before he could sense that the time grew near.
Roused by the scent, he shook himself out of the trance that he’d lapsed into. Fully lucid once more, the Architect ordered his palace to move, and so it began to journey its way through the Celestial Spheres and descend ever closer and closer to Galbar.
Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago!
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
Discord: VMS#8777
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago!<br><br>I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.<br><br>Discord: VMS#8777</div>
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