Sounds great to me. I wasn't trying to make him super overpowered or anything. My idea was more for a small band (1-5) minions around and during battle he might conjure up a handful to a score more temporarily. Would this be an alright approach?
My note about the magic is more aesthetic than concerned with power levels. We have some notionally quite powerful characters and NPCs and I'm fine with that. My concern is more to keep the magic off-screen as much as possible, to heighten it's effect on-screen.
I also want to keep the sense of magic as weird, fitting with the sort've off-kilter vibe we're going for with Azoth. So when the knee-jerk option is to cast a fireball or summon a skeleton, players should say- what else can I do that's like not quite what you'd expect from a mage/necromancer?
That's what I'm going for with my mage characters anyway. Not sure how successful I am.
I really like this. He could have possibly been noticed for his skill and brought up as an apprentice to a lich (drathan in life). The lich would have more than likely brought in a few more apprentices that were Drathan and obviously favored them, giving Braize even more motivation to work hard.
Sure that sounds good. I have no hard definition for what a 'lich' is in this setting, so feel free to be creative. No need to stick with the usual soul/phylactery/desiccated floating corpse stuff, though you're welcome to use that or play off that if you like.
I've got this idea for a necromancer from the drathan union. He's currently in the Drathan Delta, but I can move him wherever the story has room for him. It would make a lot of sense for him to set out to seek the knowledge of the Mountain Wisdoms, though they're all the way across the map.
Braize Kuzari the Deathwaker
Description: Braize is an average looking human from the Ashlands, but from his perfectly coifed hair and well kempt robes, one can easily observe his class and poise. The son of an upper middle class book trader in Drathan Empire, Braize always had a hunger for knowledge, tearing through any book that came into his father’s possession before it was sold. It was one of these such books – Waking from the Endless Sleep: The Basics of Necromastery – that set his life goal. Though he never had the greatest affinity for magic, his hours of study and single-minded obsession with perfecting his craft have helped to shape him into one of the more powerful necromancers around.
Race: Human (Vryonese)
Faction: (Loosely) Drathan Union
Location: Various small towns around the Drathan Delta
Synopsis of Role: Braize wants to be a leader, and thanks to his magic, he has the tools to build the army of devoted followers he needs to continue his quest for knowledge and power.
I'm good with the general concept. Accepted, but I would suggest some edits:
1) an army of the undead would not fit with the magic guidelines set out for the OP. Just keep the magic aesthetics laid out there in mind on this one.
2) that he's not a Drathan but in Drathan territory and a magical prodigy is fine, but would likely come to the attention of the wizard-lords, many of whom are accomplished necromancers. Some perhaps are even liches. They are mildly prejudiced against magic users not of Drathan ancestry, but would likely accept him if he was talented regardless. Perhaps he'd be a protege or an apprentice to one of the Dratha- wouldn't necessarily need to be the ruler of a city state, just a powerful necro-mage? That, or his rejection by the Dratha for not being of the bloodlines would be an element in his story. Just something to keep in mind.
I have walked the nine times ninefold paths of Abshu and attained Da’at. Spill my blood upon the sand and read the virtue of what was lost in the words it leaves. Lo, I am dead, but what is not made is immortal. Olm Sahda.
Vitruvian houses
Viitru, the Caravans, Concealers, Children of Da’at
Race: Human Faction/Unit: Independant Location: Transient Synopsis of Role: Traders, scavengers and archaeo-pirates
It is said that The Viitru have two hands, one holding a ready blade, the other extended in barter. And though they reveal one and keep the other concealed behind their backs, both are there, and ready to change at any time.
Its three known houses are thus:
Viitru-Ba (Warriors): house of barbs, throne of the Scorpioness Jadas, who is called Sadha; concerned with murder. Its mother is Malkut-Ba,the Envenomer.
Vaatru-Sa (Crafters): house of unknowing, throne of the Concealer, who is called Da’at; concerned with secrets and the forging of things. Its father is Sothis-Sa, ichor-mage.
Vatraa-El (Traders): house of sand, throne of the Hinderer, who is called Abshu; concerned with change -- in physical terms, movement, interaction and trade. Its father is Ysod-El, the collector.
For the people of the red desert, the Vitruvians are a blessing and a curse; a nomadic, tribal people, holding no land of their own but instead following a long, circuitous convoy through the desert, bringing either prosperity or ruin in their passage. For the bulk of the year, they wander unseen beyond the pitiless wasteland of the Erg, having sparse dealings with the scattered, half-human monstrosities of that desolate place as they press deeper and deeper into the blasted lands of the Hunger. Then, when the Sandshore rainfalls come, they inevitably come round again, crossing south over the border of the red lands to traverse the dust way, doing trade with the strong or protected and preying ruthlessly on the friendless and the weak. They halt only to hold bazaars at significant settlements, trading in salt, white glass, and a panoply of scrap and Elder trinkets before drifting back into the wasteland, disappearing over the border as the oases begin to dry.
Where the other end of their journey takes them, only the Vitruvians know. Once they pass into the Hunger, even the most obscene desert predators back away.
Appearance:
The Viitru are with few exceptions a wiry, hard-muscled people, retaining little to no body fat, with skin tones ranging from light to deep brown. They wear heavy robes over light, hard armor made of white glass and wormbone, decorated with tribal insignia and dormant archeotech repurposed as talismans and jewelry, their large, variously-shaped helms and masks giving them a distinct and not-quite-human appearance on the dunes. The raiment is functional and flexible in combat, but serves its highest purpose as protection from the flaywinds of the Hunger and the murderous sun of the deep desert.
Their weapons are white glass blades, salvaged fleshrippers (motorized spear blades cobbled together from elder relics) cuttlebone longbows with glass arrowheads, and lethal longrifles that fire from the main caravan.
The Huskwalkers
The heart of the caravan itself is a menagerie of weathered, rusted-out hulks, some remnant of an elder empire that now serves as transport and home to the children of Da’at. They are many-shapen things of battered metal, hollowed and decorated in the banners, bunkers, flags, lanterns and pavilion-tents of the Viitru. Some move like horses, some like scorpions; some crawl close along the dunes like armored beetles while a scant few others shamble almost as men.
Though dilapidated and slow, the walkers do not tire or stop, moving through day and night until they reach their regular waypoints. Raiders move alongside atop swifter war-insects, riding out from the caravan to intercept as opportunity permits, or necessity demands.
Patron Daemons
The liminal Gods of the Viitru
The Concealer
Once a stripling asked of the Ichor-Mage, "Is Da'at my teacher or my foe?" Sothis-Sa replied "What's the difference?"
Da'at, the Concealer, whose attainment is power, tutelary goddess of the Viitru. Her name, when written, is a divided circle with two complete circles suspended in each; her likeness a smooth, feminine mask of white glass or bone.
Almost nothing is known about the Concealer, her nature elusive and obscured. She is the mist; the mirage; the curtain; the veil. Even the term itself, “Da’at,” is a vague, flexible Viitru word implying secrets, the intangible, truth of things unseen, non-thought. It's a word that crops up in their culture as both a name and a place, though even then, it's unclear whether the destination is a physical or philosophical one.
True to her name, the concealer presents more mysteries than she unravels, but in this is a hidden virtue. For she hides twice as much from one’s enemies, and to the wise, the state of Unknowing is a powerful one indeed.
The Scorpion
“When one’s belly is full, one can no longer imagine hunger, have you noticed that..? And a failure of imagination, in a battle of wills... Such a thing is fatal.”
Sadha is the name given to Jadas by the Viitru, and they understand well the value of the lash-mother’s favor. She is torture and thirst, the heart that cannot know rest, the acid in the blood of those afflicted with her sticky-sweet toxin, begetter of assassins and queen of whips. The Viitru-Ba honor her with their house symbol -- a written rune hooked like a scorpion’s tail, a teardrop of venom falling from its tip -- and her adherents coat their blades with her children’s agonizing milk. “Better you than I,” as some of her bound have said.
The Hinderer
“Complete this journey and you will not recognize the one who began it.”
Abshu, the Hinderer, the key which unlocks itself. The empty compass, serpent at the crossroads, the impassible way, he who erases the path behind. He is the male twin of Da’at, associated with time, travel, and ordeal, and is a crucial friend-foe of the Viitra. He is the challenge. The riddle. The obstacle. The unending test, which gives as it demands, strengthens your resolve with every failure. He is the god who opposes your very attempt to follow him, and his presence is closely felt along the caravan’s migration.
Abshu is said to most often appear as a figure in ragged robes wandering the obscurest and most difficult paths -- his face hidden beneath a deep cowl, a divining-staff in one hand and an ever-changing key burning brightly above his head -- or as a series of ever-turning, interlocking wheels. It is said that to see him in this latter form is to teeter on the brink of madness, but as with all things regarding the Hinderer, this is simply one more difficult path to be walked, one more riddle to dissolve.
Persons of note:
Fate readies its blade
Ysod-El the Collector: First trader. Unlike the charismatic, clarion-voiced hawkers of the rest of his House, the master merchant is a terse, direct, and deeply unsettling presence. Bargaining with him is a rare and terrible privilege, granted only to those who can offer something significant and unique. Such trades are tempting, for he can inevitably offer things one deeply desires or direly needs in return -- but he is known to carry the curse of fate-altering, and it is said that the red gods hold their breath when Ysod-El shakes hands.
Binah, Snakedancer, daughter of Ysod-El: The Collector's courier. She plays first greatflute in her father’s caravan procession, the deep, melodic drone announcing their intent as they move from territory to territory. She has mastered the thousand undulations of the Snakedance and will perform it, in all its unspeakable ecstasies and consequences, for the right price.
Malkut-Ba, Intoxicatrix, Envenomer: Cultist of Jadas and the only woman to carry a clan name. She is comely and sweet-voiced, but this is a mask. She is eaten alive with resentment and thirst. Her bodydress, coif and gloves are made from the tanned leather of Rainlander virgin girls, and she wears a belt of painted skulls around her waist. Her blades are named Hearthunger and Razorfever. Her helm is fashioned into the face of a fanged scorpion, and it is rumored she knows three and forty ways to skin a man alive.
Melek-Ba, Blood-Ruby, Radiant: Tall, lean and abnormally strong, Malkut’s only child is said to be the fairest of men. His golden hair is a gift from his father, a long-forgotten Reaver from the Broken Lands, and his face is breathtakingly beautiful beneath his skeletal mask. He is thoughtful and distant, his heart a heavy weight in his chest, until his temper breaks, as it inevitably does. Where most Viitru are pragmatic and opportunist in battle, conducting war as they might haggle in the market, the child of the envenomer is renowned for his screaming bloodthirst, frequently closing in hand-to-hand and going berserk, tearing his opponents limb from limb. There is some rumor that the barbed armor he wears is a living Soul-Metal, possessing him almost completely in battle.
His mother keeps a jealous watch over him and holds his leash tight, kidnapping and torturing girls who flirt with him, and murdering those who think to court his attentions more deeply.
Sothis-Sa, ichor-mage: Known to never remove his mask or armor, yet the sire of a not insignificant number of children in spite of it. Legends and myths abound of the ichor-mage’s deeds and power, though an entire generation has now come and gone that has never seen him wield magic. Said to be the first and only to have attained Da'at and lived.
Thekmet-Sa, Glassbinder: One of the ichor-sorcerer’s sons, particularly skilled in glasscraft, his mask riddled with dark, oddly-shaped lenses which he claims allow him to see things unseen. He once lost an eye during a raid and crafted a replacement, its iris twisting and contracting in an uncannily realistic fashion. Able to do custom work -- for a price.
Thriss-Thressa, Bird of Paradox: The youngest of the ichor-mages daughter(s), Thriss and Thressa is/are twins -- a single body with two heads, her split torso merging at the waist. That she wasn't thrown to the jackals in childhood is largely attributed to the fact that she doesn’t seem to eat any more than usual, coupled with the general acceptance that anything directly issuing from the ichor-mage is going to be seriously weird.
The Hunger:
An anomalous and violent area of turbulence deep within the dry, dead wasteland of the Erg. If plied enough with barter and good wine, the Vitruvians will tell you that the Hunger is not a place, but the death-dream of a murdered god. And who knows? They may just be right. Because if the Erg is an untraversable wasteland, then the Hunger is the blasted surface of an alien world, hostile and unrelenting. Nothing natural enters it and lives. Unpredictable, gale-force sandstorms -- the flaywinds -- ravage its expanse, and the exposed sun is a baleful violet star that will burn the unprotected to death.
Uncounted other horrors are told of the veil-cursed realm, but the truth of it remains hidden. No one but the Viitru ever get that far -- and only the driven and insane would ever wish to try.
White Glass:
A superior, weapon-capable grade of glass made not from sand but from the vitrified bones of unspecified creatures found beyond the Hunger. Properly-crafted white glass blades, used correctly, hold as strong as steel and bite twice as deep.
That's awesome. I love it. There is overlap here w/ @Dead Cruiser's faction, so you ought to work with him on how your peoples have interacted. Accepted.
@Cairo Yes we ought to have a council of war. I think another round of posts will do so I can tie things off with @Dead Cruiser's dude and then I will set the scene for one.
In the meantime, feel free to make up w/e you like about preparations. There will be plenty of NPC mercs filtering in to Zar Vorgul, and Daigon has overall command as the official representative of the Congress of Masters and the Archmagister. But that doesnt mean you need OOC approval from me to make stuff up ICly about what's going on. Your dude probably knows the Coward and the Coward's Men fairly well. In fact, we've probably been on opposite sides of plenty of inter-drathan feuds in the past.
@Sightseer sorry for not getting back to you, happy to collab your char joining the Coward's Men or the defense of Zar Vorgul.
You're both right. The red gods are diverse like Aristo said, so that there's no comprehensive 'list' of them all and they are all sorts of things, so you wouldnt worship all of them at once as a group of individuals. But as Nieszka noted you can worship/venerate the Pantheon as a symbol of cosmic chaos or appetite or w/e you like.
