Ellri

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

here's a rough writeup of the concept for the new realm we added:

Kalesian Empire

Mode of Government: Empire.
Head of State: Empress (not named yet)
Religion: [not named]. State and religion is one. The Empress is at the head of the Faith.
Society: Militaristic expansionist. Massive standing army.

View of Evokers: They do not mind Evokers living, so long as they loyally serve the Empress. Many in the empire consider the only good evoker to be an evoker in chains. They do not approve of just killing evokers. All Evokers shall get the option to serve the Empire. If they don't want to, they'll gladly use torture and/or imprisonment and/or other means to "persuade" them to change their mind.

Location: East of the mountains East of Amaryth. North-east of Lendria & Gerania

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

Somewhere in the densely forested foothills east of Amaryth, two days earlier.

“The army is tunneling beneath the mountains as we speak. Will you be in place to do your job, Weaver?” The strangely uniformed man said, clearly a bit impatient. “Patience, commander. You will have your darkness. If your army is in place, then I will provide your distraction. No one will see your army coming. The Kalesian Empire will soon rule this region, have no fear, Commander.”

“Good.” As the Commander departed, he muttered beneath his breath “If it had been up to me, you would have been in chains.” In his mind, the only good Evoker was a chained evoker. And there was that guard who ran away along with one of the suspected relics. He wanted that one back where he belonged. In fact, that had been the final straw he used to convince the empress, may she live forever, to invade this pitiful realm. The only institution worthy of any respect here was that church, but even they had the wrong ideas about evokers. Evokers should be used, not killed.

Just before he stepped into his tent, he saw that the Weaver was leaving on foot, heading straight for their first target, the city of Amaryth. The shadows around the Weaver were just a bit denser than elsewhere. Not enough to be noticed by the untrained eye, but as a commander in the Imperial Kalesian army, his eyes were very much trained.

Inside Amaryth, present day.

Slavómir smiled to himself. He had found the perfect spot. Excellent view, but still concealed. Reaching within himself to the core of his power, he smiled. At first, nothing appeared to be happening. But then, over the span of several minutes, the light everywhere began to dim. It took a full quarter hour before he was done. Though it was the middle of the day during late summer, it now looked like it was in the middle of the darkest night of winter. No one would see the commander’s army marching out of the tunnels in the hills and to the city. Nothing could stop it. Nothing.

He had seen the armies for himself. Thousands of the Empress’ best trained infantry companies. Heavily armored Kalbeasts by the scores. Mauler cavalry by the hundreds. He did not care much about the policies of the Empire, but they paid well and at least they did not kill his kind on sight.

Elsewhere in Amaryth

Thora did not understand what was happening as the light dimmed. At first she had thought it was night falling at last. She had often lost track of time, so that could have been it, but once she reached the doors and saw how people were panicking, how the torches being lit gave off less light than they should, she realized it had to be something else. She did not know what, but if it meant less of the painful sun, she approved of it. As such, she decided to head out and away from the building, intent upon figuring out what was happening. She just hoped the Thirst would let her.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

We're working out a little NPC that'll cause more chaos. Even if the NPC's abilities may be beneficial to Thora, they're not going to be working together. In fact, the NPC will, once Thora's existence is realized, consider her an obstacle that must be removed.

NPC, not PC.

Slavómir

Name: Slavómir “Weaver” Rezník. He’s got a dozen other aliases at least. But favored Alias currently is Weaver.
Age: Physically, he looks around thirty-four, but those who have encountered him in the past claim he did so then too, so his exact age is unknown.
Gender: Male (presumed)

Relic Description: Unknown appearance. Power: Nightbringer, shadow-weaver. Massive range, but nothing that can be touched. I.e. The darkness he(?) summons is incapable of causing direct harm to anyone. He(?) cannot summon dark tendrils to hurt anyone or anything like that. Its simply darkness.

Skills: Slavómir is expert at getting into the wrong places and at plotting. Fairly decent at dealing with unexpected surprises, but not flawless. He’s been an evoker for years, in the service to various factions more interested in what doesn’t belong to them than is healthy. As mercenaries go, he is a bit of a legend. He’s lethal in unconventional combat, but not one to thrive in a melee or one-on-one. As his relic-given power is purely visual, he can’t directly use it in combat. The larger the area he wields it upon, the less finesse he can put into it. When he’s working purely within close range, he can weave shadows that even the best would be fooled by.

Background: Unknown. Mercenary work. Coups. Robberies. Invasions. If its bad, you name it, and Slavómir has probably been involved in it somewhere.

Appearance: Slavómir is expert at disguises. Even if one had a decent description of him, one could be sure he’d not look like that next time. Only known fact is that he’s of average build and height, dark of hair and dark of eye. Weathered appearance, presumably with numerous scars. But again, he is wont to conceal as much of that as he can. There are even numerous times Slavómir has been known to masquerade as ladies both noble and common.

Motivation: Greed. Whim. Anger. Hatred. Curiosity. Slavómir is as complex as (s)he is simple.

Theme Song: No idea. Thinking something deep, mysterious. Probably dark. Slow-paced and patient. Not using any high-pitched instruments. Open for suggestions.

Stargate - Alliances

a lack of communications, it seems. (discussed in IRC).

Looks like finishing the space battle is all up to Forsythe and Fallen, without any involvement from Sep's characters.

Stargate - Alliances

You planning to have this RP move, Sep? Or do you intend it to die the slow death?
The ship stuff is waiting on you. Not sure who ground stuff is waiting on.

Vampires - Powers, flaws and traits

the type of wood varies, but there is a tendency in some tougher breeds of vampire (lone antagonist-type) to only be weak against one type of wood. Iron is more commonly associated with the beings of the Faerie than with vampires. Salt is one we're not too familiar with a direct weakness to. The times we've seen salt used, it was as a spell component/carrier for witches or wizards rather than as a weapon onto itself. Silver occurs at times, but it too is more consistent with werewolves than with vampires, but its not as exclusive.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

yes, its the attached building. we'd initially misunderstood the form of theater you others spoke of. We thought initially it was all indoors.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

No idea. We didn't decide that far. Whether to notice her is up to you. If your characters are observant enough, that is. Not everyone is capable of observing everything, after all.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

Now there'll potentially be more room for interaction with Thora. Biggest issue is that she's very much nocturnal at this stage. Even being covered up while outside in daylight makes her uncomfortable. Its not that direct sunlight causes her true harm (at least not yet), but to her it feels like it does.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

Thora crawled deeper and deeper into the shadows as the chamber beneath her filled out more and more. She did not like crowds. No she did not. But of course her Thirst liked it. 'Ironic.' she'd have thought, except that was a word she didn't know. She hated herself at times. Why was all this happening to her? She did not pay attention to what was being said even after the hall filled. She had to work too hard to restrain the Thirst to do that.

She could feel how the bridled power was stretching her essence, making her less and less human. She hated it. She loved it. Even so, when the hall began to empty and darken after some roaring applause for some reason she did not know, she found her grasp on resistance slipping. She quickly tried to find new holds on it. She could not let it go here. It was too dangerous! The last thing she remembered before the Thirst consumed all thought, was herself slowly crawling down from her hidden spot.