STATUS:
Posted a Game Master Guide in the Guides section. If you need help with GMing, refer to it for some handy advice. If you don't need help, then don't read it.
9 yrs ago
Current
Posted a Game Master Guide in the Guides section. If you need help with GMing, refer to it for some handy advice. If you don't need help, then don't read it.
9 yrs ago
Happy Thanksgiving!
4
likes
9 yrs ago
When you see that you no longer owe anymore posts and have nothing to write *insanity ensues* Aaaaah!HSkjhaksjhdjf
5
likes
10 yrs ago
Happy Thanksgiving!
2
likes
10 yrs ago
Happy Birthday to me.
5
likes
Bio
Hello all. I am an experienced writer who is writing my own fiction stories on the side. I can role play any genre. What I love most is being able to go-all-out when weaving tales with other writers. It just makes the story more interesting, so I can't wait to write with you. :)
I have an idea for a Final Fantasy 7-style game involving Shinra and the SOLDIER program. Each SOLDIER that comes out of the SOLDIER program is imbued with the genes of one summon that they could pick. The materia that that specific summon uses also determines what materia the SOLDIER uses. But basically, the story is that these SOLDIERs will be working for Shinra and protecting the Mako Reactors from the AVALANCHE resistance group. There will be skirmishes and chances for those who like writing elaborate/intricate/artistic fighting posts to do so as they show off their SOLDIER. This will be casual to advanced level writing since I have seen brilliant writers in both categories. If anyone is interested, just drop some interest here, pick a summon, and if I get enough interest then I will drop a CS. This current phase of the interest check is seeing who would be actually interested in this idea.
The way I do things in the interest check is different. What regularly happens every time a interest check goes up is that I will get a lot of interest, let's say for example 10 people show interest. By the time we get CSes done and the OOC goes up, out of those 10 people, only 5 will actually have a CS complete, join the main game, and be ready to go. The others will have gone AWOL. So I prefer writers build their CSes and "ships" in this thread before I kick off the game.
I have also not waited for CSes to be built, kicked off an OOC, and then the entire game was stalled waiting for players to build their CSes (whenever they felt like it), and it just held up the whole game and nearly made it die. This game will not launch without completed CSes. If you are showing interest to this idea, then you have read this and acknowledge that this game will not launch until all the CS business has been completed. There isn't a game that I have ever started that I have never launched. It won't happen. I put a lot of time into building these games and I would like to have dedicated writers who will make these stories awesome and can carry it through. Saying this, if you know you don't have time for this game or room for this game, then don't join. You will do more harm than good.
Game Development Outline
Player Interest (at least 5 players)
Character Sheet Presentation & Character Generation (need at least 5 complete CSes)
Crest of the Lion It is the crest of the SOLDIER 1st Class that distinguishes them from others. The Crest of the Lion (or Lion Crest) represents Strength and Courage. The 1st Class SOLDIERs are responsible for the most important and dangerous missions. 1st Class SOLDIERs are given special privileges, such as the use of personal items, clothing, and equipment, as well as the right to deny orders assuming any responsibilities from their decisions.
Eagle Wings The 2nd Class SOLDIERs have soared above their former 3rd Class rank. The Eagle Wings represent Resilience and Perseverance. The 2nd Class SOLDIERs are the best among their 3rd Class counterparts and only those distinguished enough ever rise to 1st Class. 2nd Class SOLDIERs are leaders in charge of squads of 3rd Class SOLDIERs and Shinra Troops.
The Sun Crest The crest of the 3rd Class SOLDIER. The Sun Crest represents Passion and Beginning. 3rd Class SOLDIERs are at the beginning of their potential. 3rd Class SOLDIERs perform duties that support the Shinra Troops and their 2nd Class leadership.
SOLDIER is the elite fighting force of the Shinra Electric Power Company. Its members are advanced super soldiers with superhuman strength, speed, and ability. They are much stronger than the Shinra Peacekeeping Troops and the Turks recognized by the glow of Mako in their eyes. Shinra uses SOLDIER for special missions that require the greatest use of force. SOLDIERs in and of themselves are Shinra industrial secrets, and to prevent information from leaking outside the company walls, it is difficult for SOLDIERs to retire. Even if they are allowed to quit, the company would monitor their subsequent actions. Even if they believe they have evaded surveillance, Shinra will follow them for the remainder of their lives, and if the situation calls for it, have them terminated.
Children around the planet dream of joining SOLDIER and becoming 1st Class like several of the 1st Class SOLDIERs already known. To further increase the organization’s popularity, and as a propaganda tool, Shinra has created fan clubs for many of the 1st Class SOLDIERs.
The Crest will go here. I don’t have Photoshop, so if you are a person gifted with graphic design and you like this game, then feel free to make the group better crests. Until then though, the crests posted above will do. You will post the crest above your character’s profile to designate the rank you wish to have. If you choose 1st Class, then know that 1st Class SOLDIERs have the most fashion freedom. No other SOLDIERs do. They wear the standard uniform. If you choose to play a 2nd Class SOLDIER, then if anyone ever plays 3rd Class SOLDIERs, then your character will be in charge of them. Your character will be their leader and superior. Those who wish to play 3rd Class SOLDIERs enjoy character development. I look forward to seeing your character’s growth throughout the game.
Character Image goes here. Please avoid using artwork from reputable anime. I do not want to see Ichigo from Bleach in this game, a ninja from Naruto, or a pirate from One Piece. Look for Digital or Original art only if you can. You do not need to have a picture. Regardless, your writing will determine what the writer sees.
Name
This is where you will write your character’s name. You can use some fan-surnames such as “Highwind, Fair, Strife, etc.” or even surnames from other Final Fantasy games “Leonheart, Tribal, Cole, etc.” but remember that you are role playing an original creation. I would like for everyone to use a little bit of game culture such as a lot of the characters from Wutai were the ones who commonly had Asian names. You can use 1001fonts.com if you want to use fancy headers for your character’s name. Feel free to jazz-up your profile however you like with character quotes, poetry, youtube videos, etc.
Age
No children or grandparents please 18-40 y/o.
Date of Birth
Refer to the Game Timeline to plan a date.
Gender
Male or Female.
Height
There’s a trend where a lot of people like to make six-foot-ridiculous characters. I do not want giants in this game unless you PM me and tell me that being a giant has significance to the character’s concept. I am putting the height floor at 5’0” and height ceiling at 6’5”.
Weight
Self-explanatory.
Hair Color
The hair can be any color of the rainbow with crazy highlights. It can be long, short, buzzed, faddish, etc. Pigtails, ponytails, dreadlocks, etc. You can freely describe the hair colors and hair style in this section if you want.
I skipped Eye Color because all SOLDIERs have Mako blue-green eyes.
Written Description
This is the overall description of your character from hair, build, skin complexion, tattoos, scars, clothing and accessories. You do not have to detail your character’s weapons. You will be able to do that below. Because your character has been imbued with the DNA of summons, they may show similarities in physical characteristics such as having a Moogle ball above their head if they were imbued with Mog or scales along their skin if imbued with Leviathan. These aren’t extreme characteristics. You're not making an anthropomorph.
Personality
As you write a general explanation of your character’s personality, mention 3 things they like, which can be like their favorite things: cats, apples, fishing, etc. Also mention 3 things they dislike. If they have any silly habits such as nail-biting, leg-shaking, knuckle-cracking, etc. You can mention those to if you want. I’m just offering ideas. Also, if they're a 1st Class SOLDIER what do they think of their fan club? If they're a 2nd Class SOLDIER, how is their relationship with their troops? If they're a 3rd Class SOLDIER what are their goals for personal growth?
Background
Some of you will probably go into depth in this section. Some of you may not. Before beginning this section, consider discussing prior relations with other writers who are also interested in this game. Maybe your character and another writer’s character were in the same village? Maybe you both decided to join SOLDIER together and have been rivals all this time? I will open a discord chatroom to make discussing these things easier for everyone. You do not have to have relations, but it does build story between characters. The main topics to answer here are: Why did your character join SOLDIER? How did your character reach the rank he or she is now? Does your character have an alias that other SOLDIERs know him or her as? Is your character loyal to Shinra or is their loyalty beginning to wane?
Summon Genome
The DNA of what summon was imbued in your character? You just state the summon's name here. You don't have to pick a summon solely from Final Fantasy 7. You can use any summon as long as it has a clear-cut spell or skill list.
Weapon
I don’t want every SOLDIER wielding the same exact weapon. Understand that there are different types of weapons at different sizes and lengths often defined using the words “great, long, or short.” You can only have ONE weapon unless it is a dual weapon. The weapon doesn't even have to be a traditional weapon. Your character could wield a fan, yo-yo, club, bat, shovel, etc. But ONE weapon. Choose wisely. SOLDIERs are capable of martial arts as Zack demonstrated in the Crisis Core anime movie. Hand-to-hand fighting can be claimed as a sole weapon. In this section if your weapon has a name, then state it. Describe the weapon. How long is it? How heavy is it? How many materia slots does it have (this is in relation to how many materia skills your character has)? How many rounds does it hold max? How fast does it fire those rounds? How many magazines does your character normally carry as spare? Are there any distinct designs on the weapon? Again, I’m giving you food for thought.
Materia
The materia you list here is related to the summon you chose. For all characters who have chosen a summon with “Instant Death,” Instant Death will not work on Mini Boss or Boss enemies. They can work on minions since many minions will be cannon fodder, but you cannot one-shot a boss. Sorry. Reference a Final Fantasy wikia to get some ideas for the materia and spells the summon uses. You should not have more than 5 skills here.
Limit Break
The limit break is a powerful combat move and usually the character's most damaging move. While in the game, there are many different ways to activate a limit break, in this RP there are two: 1) your character takes 10 consecutive damaging hits from an enemy or another player (yes, another player can help your character limit break but it's dangerous), and 2) if a mini boss or boss nearly kills your character, they get a "second wind" which is his or her limit break. Give your limit break a name. It doesn't have to be themed around your SOLDIER's summon genome. It is just a signature attack or move. Describe how the attack or move is performed. Does it attack a single target? Does it attack multiple targets and if so, how many? Is it a support ability that aids the party? Describe it.
Tatsumaki frowned when it seemed like Viki wasn’t taking him serious. Did she not believe him? She wasn’t aware of the power of his ring, but she would soon be amazed. Jacuzzi strolled into the store, expressing curiosity concerning his ring. The fighter smirked when he asked if the ring made him fat.
“No; it gives me great power,” Tatsumaki told him. He then gave Jacuzzi a confused expression, his brows turning upwards with uncertainty. “I cannot make you the head of any section. You should ask Viki.”
Just as he mentioned the assistant manager’s name, Tatsumaki winced a little when she blared, Get to work you two, time is money and…blah, blah, blah. She tried too hard to be like Mr. Gar. A hard scowl settled on the fighter’s face as he turned away from Jacuzzi and strode with purpose toward the office of Mr. Gar. His heart was racing. Here, he was about to take on The Man. Tatsumaki’s eyes were shrinking by the second and his pits were spilling hot sweat—he was sweating like a pig. Internally, he was hearing his conscience screaming at him to turn back, but no! He had to have faith. He had the ring!
Tatsumaki stopped before the office door and stared at the black stencil stickers. He raised his hand prepared to knock when all of a sudden the door opened and Tatsumaki was staring face-to-face with a pair of mirror sunglasses. The massive wall of a man stared at him for a minute, looking the boy in his wide-shocked eyes. Mr. Gar inhaled deeply, his barreled chest expanding, and then he sighed deeply through his nostrils.
“Tatsumaki, your father called, and he told me everything,” Mr. Gar said. He then rested his hand on Tatsumaki’s shoulder and explained, “Look; there is no power ring. That’s just a plastic toy ring that you found in a box of Lucky Gems. It’s a toy, son!”
Tatsumaki shook his head. “No; the cereal box…”
“I know, son. This may be a shock to you but…” Mr. Gar removed from his pocket a similar power ring.
“Is it? Lucky Gems cereal is sold on the open market. There are many lucky boys and girls out there with power rings. Now, let’s stop this. If you try to fight me, I told Black I would try not to break your bones.”
Tatsumaki scowled in doubt, staring down at the floor. “I…” He couldn’t even see the floor. All he saw was his fat gut and the ring dangling between his breasts. “I ate so much cereal…”
Mr. Gar patted his shoulder. “I know son. You’re hurting the store’s productivity with your sluggish performance. Get back into shape so you can go back to being one of my stellar security guards.”
Tatsumaki sighed and turned away from Mr. Gar’s office. Just as he turned, everyone would feel a strong tremor pass through the floor, causing Tatsumaki’s fat rolls to quiver. Mr. Gar frowned.
“It sounds like Nevermore just dropped another one of their goons outside,” Mr. Gar grumbled. “VIKI! Round up the workers and go deal with that problem! Try not to wreck the parking lot!”
Outside…
The crate that had dropped from the sky burst open as a tall red cat extended his paws into the air.
“AT LAST! It is now Feliking’s turn to reduce Lakewood Plaza into a bed of kitty litter!” Feliking laughed.
Several customers stopped in the parking lot to gawk at the skinny cat villain with little fear. Feliking’s yellow eyes narrowed as he laughed behind a wicked smirk. He directed his paws at a couple who were pushing an empty cart toward the shopping mall. A pink wavy beam left Feliking’s paws and blasted the two humans, leaving behind a pillar of gray smoke, and as the smoke dissipated, all that was left behind were two housecats. By the times the heroes would assemble outside, they would find cats all over the parking lot, rolling around, yowling, and some were raising their hackles at each other in a cat fight.
Logran Eaton Fellenore, son of Eaton and Loraine Fellenore; Saint Slayer; The Wild Man; Reed; The Dark Paladin
30
Human
Major
He might have been a squire or he might have been just a servant. In his past, he performed the same duties as a steward. He then became a wandering hammerdin.
Minor
Hammerdin
Michael
Logran is six-foot weighing roughly 200 pounds out of armor. Beneath his armor, he wears a tunic worn to a dusty and dirtied gray from age and use. His trousers are a faded-black and pool slightly over a pair of brown rabbit-skin shoes. His hair is raven-black. Its length is down to his shoulders, and he wears it in a loose tail. His eyes are slate-grey, his right eye half-closed due to a scar cutting into his cheek passed his eye in a diagonal slant. He wears a black cloth bandage wrapped about his head over his right eye.
When Logran’s face isn’t behind his facemask or eye bandage, he appears to be younger than his actual age. His boyish appearance makes him appear in his early twenties. With a beard on his face, he appears his age or ten years older. His body is jutting with tanned muscle covered in light scars that contrast his complexion. Wielding Glosgnir has conditioned his body to resemble that of an experienced lifter.
Logran goes by the name Reed. Even though it has been 15 years since he murdered Sir Aragon, he does not believe zealots of the Eizellen Church or even of Michael would ever forget that his murderer is possibly still at large. He keeps his scar and the mystery of whether or not he’s actually missing a right eye a secret from even people he would deem friends. Because of incidents in his past, there are a few things that Logran doesn’t like. Those things being swords and alcohol. He will never partake in alcoholic beverages or wield a sword even if his hammer, Glosgnir, is not present.
Is Logran troubled? It’s hard to say. Logran has admitted and taken responsibility for each of his sins. Having murdered once, the blood can no longer be washed from his hands. He is his own judge. He will execute whoever he deems unworthy of mercy. The paladin is soft-spoken. He rarely raises his voice above a shout and over the years, his life has led to him becoming quieter. He is dutiful—one to not stray from the mission until it is complete. He has worked in a team before but not one anywhere close to a mercenary group. Because of the misfortune that befalls anyone who is around him, he prefers to work alone.
The paladin is a humble man who doesn’t boast his skills or abilities. He doesn’t completely understand most of his abilities, but one has led to him not liking liars. Liars remind him of the blinded fools in Eizellen. While he understands lies being used tactfully, he still just doesn’t like hearing them.
White Stag
Black Mithril Armor The black armor that encases his body resembles heavy armor in appearance. It is as sturdy as steel, and most Dwarves would recognize the craft to be that of their own: Dwarvish. The mithril armor is a light armor that places little burden on the wearer. The armor is a necessity for Logran who wields a great hammer and cannot afford his movements to be hampered by extra weight. The specific armor components: mantle, greaves, torso, chest, dress (groin), boots, mask, and gauntlets.
Black Sun Buckler The buckler is one-foot-and a half in length and width. The buckler is circular with jutting and bladed overlapping layers surrounding it in what appears to be rays. The buckler acts as a small shield and can be used as a lethal throwing disc. If thrown with a reverse spin, the disc can be thrown in a forward direction for a brief moment before the spin would cause it to return. If not thrown, then the buckler can act as a bladed disc for slashing down opponents.
Glosgnir is a great hammer of dwarvish craft designed from a hardwood overlaid with steel. The weapon is as long as Logran is tall. The head is two-feet wide in all directions, and the obvious heaviest part of the weapon. Logran can wield the hammer in close-combat by gripping it closest to its head, and he can wield the weapon in medium-range combat by gripping it near the tail. The blunt weapon is designed to break shields and guards. Like a battering ram, Glosgnir can knock a turtling enemy on his ass if he insists on hiding behind his shield. He can use the hammer to damage the wheels of war machines and pachyderm steeds. If there’s a reinforced door, Glosgnir will bust it open. The worst position an enemy can find himself in is beneath the hammer when it falls.
Kheluz Dwarvish for “strong” it is the name of Logran’s horse. Kheluz is a black stallion standing at 20 hands (82” tall) and weighs 1.3 tons. Logran needed a big and strong horse to not only be able to survive and carry his belongings, but to carry Glosgnir most of all.
Rations Dried meats, pemmican, honey, nuts, salted fish, and tubers. Waterskin Triage Kit Bandages, Needle & Thread, and pomade Utility Knife Extra Set of Clothes Furs Saddle, Bit, Reins, Stirrups, Harness Bed Roll Rope and Grapple Gold
Major Shieldbreaker
Logran is the guy you want to get in close in order to take out the enemy’s defense. Heavily-armored enemies, war machines, pachyderms, reinforced doors—Logran will Glosgnir will bring it all down. The enemy does not want to be in the shadow of the hammer when it falls. His hammer is like a battering ram, shaking the poise of enemies who hide behind their shields. If the shield isn’t sturdy enough, Glosgnir has been known to break or warp a shield beyond convenience.
Minor Holy Man
Logran is blessed with abilities that help one find his or her way through the darkness. His blessings allow those to punish evil and see when they are blinded by trickery. He can hear lies.
Wayfinder
When lost, afraid, or confused, Logran can unconsciously evoke a guide to lead him out of a complicated situation. This ability doesn’t always allow him to find who he is looking for. He can find someone if he is meant to find someone as decided by Michael, but if he doesn’t find the person then the person is either no longer of this life or someone not meant to be found. Logran would be the one to lead a group out of a maze or out of darkness. If separated, he will get a gut feeling to go in the direction of the group he is to reunite with if Michael wills it. The ability is confusing and Logran doesn’t quite understand it himself. He’s just always had it since he was a boy.
Blessings
Logran can lay his hand on weapons or equipment and imbue them with a holy blessing through prayer. The weapon or tool when blessed takes on the properties of a blessed item capable of inflicting extra damage to evil entities to include the corporeal and incorporeal.
Logran’s devotion to his god has given him an indomitable will. He finds strength through his faith in Michael, and this strength could rival the strength of any godless man. His past is filled with hardship and adversity. He has survived being nearly beaten to death, starvation, and madness. With nothing to live for, Logran has completely surrendered himself to Michael, and in doing so, has acquired some uncanny advantages. His mind is difficult to break, and he is well-accustomed to the harsh wilderness. His constitution is higher than most humans, and his mysterious abilities will often have others coming to him for truth and guidance. Logran can hear lies, the whispers of evil, and he will boldly call a liar out on his or her game when he hears one.
As a fighter, Logran is devastating at close and even medium ranges. His hammer can cripple and throw the balance of his opponents. His hammer can breach most defenses. His blessings can send evil running. The mysterious paladin is a reliable addition to any team.
As far as combat, even when wearing a lighter armor, a swing from his hammer is still slower than the swing of a short sword or dagger. To compensate, he will switch between single-handed to two-handed, and gripping near the head of his hammer for swifter strikes. A hammer is not as easy to manipulate or change trajectory as a lighter weapon and so a swing will happen in the direction it is initially intended. If ever disarmed, if swords are all the paladin has left to wield, he won’t use them. He refuses to use them because they bring about a terrible memory.
Like most fighters, the back is always a vulnerable area for ambushes or backstabs. He cannot see a sniper planning to shoot him down, and therefore, his morality is like anybody elses. His holy abilities are reliant on Michael, and Michael may not make decisions in the group’s favor.
His identity as Logran Fellenore is ever uncovered by an enemy can create trouble for him or any group he is with. Churches of Michael often have drank the Apotheoses’ koolaid and their flocks are just as toxic.
Logran does not like rape, and if he is ever witness to such an act, his friends may see him fly off the deep end. Such horrendous acts fill him with a terrible rage.
Slate
Logran was born to Eaton and Loraine Fellenore in the prairies north of the Eizellen peninsula. His birth, though expected, was unwanted for their struggles as farmers were worsened by another mouth to feed. Loraine did not ever blame her son for she knew that it was she and Eaton who had born him into their hardship. Logran grew only in their love until they could no longer bear it. When Logran was eight-years-old, old enough to properly hold a sword, Eaton took him to Eizellen, City of Men. Eaton introduced Logran to an old friend of his, Sir Aragon Brightshield, Paladin Saint of Eizellen, Dawnbringer. Eaton and his father were acquainted only by tale. In the tale, Aragon had supposedly saved his father’s soul from an evil eidolon once, and if it hadn’t been for him, Eaton would not have lived. He thought he would repay the holy knight by having his son bend the knee as his squire. Aragon accepted Eaton’s offer, and from that day until he was fifteen-years-old, Logran served him.
Logran was captivated by the paladin from the way the man walked, wore his armor, and rode his horse. He was radiant and everything Logran believed a Servant of Michael to be. The people loved him. The church loved him. He was loved by all. It was because of Aragon that Logran began his studies in The Word and when he was tending to the paladin’s horse or chambers, he was in the yard of Brightshield Estate, training with a wooden mallet and barrel lid since Aragon didn’t allow him to have weapons. Over the years, Aragon softened and allowed Logran to wade closer into his life. Logran saw a side of the man; the saint; that no one knew and would never know. When he wasn’t riding with his fellow knights or playing hero in the streets and surrounding lands, when he was home in the privacy of his estate, he was a drunkard. Aragon didn’t summon his servants to scrub his vomit from the floor or empty his piss-pot, he summoned Logran. The man was human. Logran didn’t know why he had felt so surprised. Had they all been blinded by his brilliance? Everyone saw him as the closest thing to Michael. Everyone was a fool.
Logran felt his admiration for the man weaken, and he had wept for feeling such a way for he didn’t know if losing faith in a saint was right or wrong. It had felt wrong to him. Logran placed his full faith in only Michael that night Aragon in an inebriated stupor laid a hand on him. It had been the first time anyone had ever struck him and to be struck by the Paladin Saint was traumatizing. He didn’t mean it, he tried to convince himself. He was drunk and Logran was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The servant who tended to his bruises, Marigold, named after the flower, enlightened Logran and told him that to the servants that was Aragon. The realization both disturbed and astounded Logran. Outside the estate, the man was hailed like a god, but in his own home, he was merely a man. An abusive. Drunk. Man. Everyone; all of Eizellen was wrong. They had put more faith into Aragon and the other saints than they put in the human god. It was a mistake!
In a way, Logran was thankful for having been introduced to the saint for he too would still have been blind. He would have never been able to grow close to Michael. Logran endured his employment as a squire in order to continue to send gold to his parents. By thirteen, puberty was creeping. Logran became more assertive than subservient and made the mistake of demanding training lessons from Aragon. When would he teach him how to wield a sword? When Aragon refused to teach him, Logran boldly took Aragon’s cup of wine and dumped it all over him. Aragon chased Logran out into the yard as the boy had desired. Taking up his familiar arms—the hammer and barrel lid—Logran faced the infuriated Aragon who to his fright had called for one of his servants to bring his sword. Aragon didn’t stick him with it as he had thought he would have. He instead disarmed him and beat him with the pummel. In a struggle on the ground, Aragon held Logran down and attempted to carve his name onto his face. He started with “A” on his right cheek up to his eye. He managed to only scrawl the first leg and middle stem before Logran’s knee caught him between the legs. Bruised and bleeding, Logran scrambled away from the man in a daze only to be snagged and beaten into unconsciousness by the man’s fist. Logran recalled briefly waking to a white creature that resembled a deer licking the blood from his cheek. He awoke again in a bed with a single candle burning. Next to him was Marigold, tending to his wounds with a damp cloth.
Marigold, to his teenage eyes, had aged pleasantly. He noticed things about her that he hadn’t before. Her fiery-orange hair, her green eyes, and freckled face. Her lips were bowed and pink and formed one word to him: “Idjit.” That night had been the second time she had to clean him up, and it was the night that Logran forgot all about Aragon. The remaining three years he spent as a squire were spent watching Marigold. He didn’t know what had come over him. It was a sickness. She looked more and more beautiful to him every day. He had found himself acting a fool when she was involved, such as attempting to spy on her and the other maids when they were bathing in the river. He had gotten his ear yanked doing such a thing. What was more interesting was, she had done the same back. She would spy on him training in the yard, and one day, he caught her and playfully chased her through the yard and into the barn where they both would share their first kiss.
At fifteen-years-old, Logran was torn between going the route of a paladin or giving it up to marry Marigold. Could he be a squire his entire life? Aragon would never see him knighted. Squire? Huh, Logran had long ago accepted that he was just another servant to bow to Aragon’s greatness. Perhaps he could work at a tavern or inn? Or at the stables as a horsekeeper? Marigold had grown to be too gorgeous to be a servant girl and Logran was determined to make her his bride. Logran hadn’t been the only one to notice Marigold’s beauty. Aragon had seen them plenty of times together, and having sworn off woman for so long, the horrible ache he had thought he had buried when he had sworn himself to Michael and the Eizellen Church had reemerged and was unbearable in her presence.
Marigold was summoned to his quarters one evening, and locking the door, he took her against her will. Logran had searched everywhere for her, eager to grace her with the surprising proposal he had been practicing for two days and had finally gotten right. No other servants had seen her, but one said she had been summoned by Aragon. Logran went to the knight’s quarters and a fear clenched his heart as he drew closer to the door. The noises he heard. He peered through the keyhole at Aragon and a distressed Marigold. Logran knew not what had overcame him that night; at that moment. It had been disturbing even to him. Had it been rage? A rage so strong that he felt nothing; thought nothing; and that everything turned into a nightmare and like a puppet he was following along—no, he might have wanted to believe that he was a puppet. He was in complete control. Logran had distanced himself and ran so hard at Aragon’s door that when he threw his body against it, the wood shattered about the lock-bolt. Logran collapsed into the room, startling Aragon, and Logran could recall no words. He could only recall his enraged screams as he rushed for Aragon’s sword mount and yanked the blade from its scabbard. He had finally wielded a sword, and it hadn’t been to train. Had it been to exact justice? Logran murdered Aragon. No; he had murdered Sir Aragon Brightshield; Paladin Saint of Eizellen; The Dawnbringer.
It was like waking from a dream. Logran woke to find the sword in his hands, Aragon’s butchered body at his feet, and Marigold staring at him in horror from the bed. The cold waters of terror closed in around him, swallowing him. He had killed a saint and a man. His dreams; his hopes; they were gone. Everything was gone in that moment. Logran in a fearful panic abandoned the knight’s sword on the floor and attempted to beg Marigold to flee with him, but she no longer recognized him. Scared and mind broken from her sullying, she shrieked in a noise so dreadful that Logran fled to get away from it. He fled into the night with but the clothes on his back. He ran and never looked back. He was pursued by the church for years. Logran only had to hide for three. He allowed his beard to grow in and covered his right eye with a bandage to give the impression he only had one.
For three years, Logran lived with Michael in the wilderness, shaken by his sin. Being alone for so long had made him crazy. He began talking to himself to apparitions that didn’t exist, haunted by his guilt and shame. He was discovered by a group of pilgrims who lured him with a hot meal and promise of safety. They asked if he was a believer in Michael and asked him to join them on their pilgrimage to Eizellen. Frightened at first, Logran yielded in order to free himself from his insanity. He told the pilgrims no name and they didn’t ask for they believed him to be daft. He was “The Wild Man” to them. They returned to Eizellen and the city was hardly different than from what he remembered. There were wanted posters with a rough sketch of his face when he was younger on it. A statue of Aragon was erected in the square. The pilgrims stopped there to pray and Logran joined them only to not raise any suspicion. The Wild Man was not worried. He was nonexistent to those outside the Brightshield Estate. He could only guess they had gotten his description from one of the servants. The pilgrims told him what happened to Sir Brightshield. He had been killed trying to stop a rapist. They hadn’t been able to find the rapist, but they prayed for Michael to bring him to justice soon. The pilgrims didn’t know what happened to the victim, Marigold; but the mention of the rapist’s parents being executed for charges of protecting the saint slayer nearly made Logran retch. Logran left the pilgrims and Eizellen. He journeyed to his home in the prairies and discovered that it had been burned to the ground. He didn’t linger for fear who may be stalking the place. Logran instead returned to the wilderness to grieve.
In the wild, Logran wringed out his heart and laid in a pool of his depression, waiting to die. If a wolf or bear had eaten him then, then he would not have cared for he was ready to perish. One night, he was visited by the strange creature again. The creature had nuzzled his cheek, waking him from his perishing sleep and pranced away. Logran watched the creature stop and gaze back at him with its uncanny rack of horns rising into an ornate shape unlike anything he had ever seen on a normal creature. He weakly rose to his feet and followed it until he no longer knew what he was following for the creature vanished long ago. He came before a camp where a group of travelling performers were laughing, clapping, dancing, and playing music. When the performers gazed upon him, they were frightened by his gaunt appearance. Logran was who they would later name “Reed” for he was as thin as one when they found him. Nothing but skin and bones!
As Reed, Logran travelled with the friendly group that comprised: Ofelia, the acrobatic Otter-kin; Saevel, a fire-breathing and juggling surface elf; Norasgroir, a strongman dwarf; and Brandt and Heidi, a human singer and lute-playing pair. They were a happy folk and didn’t mind his presence. Reed didn’t know why he accompanied them. He had no reason not to, but they gave him purpose. He helped around the camp and helped them set up their performances. Overtime, he grew to love and trust his new family, and from them he learned a strange truth. The troupe didn’t believe in gods, denouncing them for personal reasons. Reed had asked them what had brought them to Eizellen that day. Brandt explained that they were kicked out of the city when the church deemed their performances inappropriate. In one of the acts, Saevel had pretended to be one of the beloved saints of Eizellen, Sir Brightshield, and offended many of the citizens with his satire. The church chased them out and Norasgroir claimed that it was because the Apotheoses were in full manipulative control of the city. They didn’t want anything that would poison the flock of idiots’ minds. It had been the first time Reed had ever heard of the Apotheoses. It fascinated him how large the world was and how so many secrets were hidden in it.
During their travels, Reed demonstrated his skill with a mallet in helping the troupe protect the camp from bandits. At the next city, Norasgroir stopped by the smithy of a cousin of his and together they built and forged Reed a hammer by the name of Glosgnir. It was dwarven tongue for “giant.” The giant’s hammer was Reed’s new weapon, and it was too heavy for him to properly wield at first. Norasgroir was confident Reed would grow into it, and overtime, he did.
The troupe’s travels led them around The Hook to a city none had ventured to before. It was a ghost town, and it made each of them uncomfortable. Ofelia, being more attuned with her sixth sense than the rest, alerted the group that she believed they had stumbled into Valgar, the City of the Undead. Many tales were told of the city, but no one had expected to ever find it or had the city found them? The troupe turned to leave, but their way was blocked by a group of shambling corpses. Ofelia shook the group from their terror by screaming at them to fight. If they didn’t fight, then they would be lost in the city’s madness. The troupe fought their way out until the first sign of madness was seen. Norasgroir clubbed Saevel in the back of his head with a club unable to tell the difference between him and the creatures. Ofelia was rolling on the ground screaming about worms bursting out of her fur and skin. Brandt had a thousand-mile stare as he gazed upon the body of Saevel after Norasgroir had murdered him. Everyone was going insane and Reed could feel the madness trying to split open his head. He grasped a fistful of his hair as he winced in his desperation to clear his mind. Upon lowering his fist, he didn’t see hair clenched in it but the writhing worms Ofelia had been screaming about. They were crawling down his face!
Screaming and trying to shake the worms from his head, a white figure brought his eyes to the wagon. It had been but a wink, but Reed knew it to have been that creature again. Reed steeled himself, uttered a brief prayer to Michael for strength, and strode over to Brandt, grabbing him and dragging him to the wagon. He tossed the man into the back of it and the sudden tremble of the wagon startled Heidi out of her shocked coma to snap the reins. The wagon rolled over Ofelia who had fallen before it, crushing her. Norasgroir had fallen having fought too deeply into the undead ranks and was overwhelmed. Reed charged through the opening Heidi had made with the wagon and continued to chase it until he cleared the city and the cloud of madness. The wagon was long gone by the time Reed found his breath to be able to search for it. In but a moment, again, everything was gone.
Reed began to notice a trend in his luck. It hadn’t been the first time the creature appeared to him and each time it was as though he was guided to or away from something or someone. The undead ichor on the end of his hammer began to burn away in a white flame. What did it all mean? Reed ventured away from the undead city, silently mourning the loss of his friends and how he was alone again. Reed wasn’t sure if he would ever see Heidi or Brandt again, and he was in no mood to play woe-as-me again. Over the years, his bond with the troupe had made him stronger. He started to suspect that the reason the troupe suffered worse than him from the city’s madness was because they were godless. It was because of his faith in Michael that he was able to overcome his numerous counters with adversity.
With Glosgnir in hand, Reed travelled the rest of The Hook alone, hoping to one day see Heidi and Brandt again. He worked a few jobs as an honest sellsword punishing the wicked and searching for lost or stolen children and people. With the money he earned, he was able to purchase Dwarvish armor. He would never forget the words of his old friend that only the dwarves knew their way best around a forge. He kept his name Reed for it hadn’t been a sullied name, and those who he helped gave him another name, “The Dark Paladin.” Reed wore black for he did not believe he was absolved from his sins and thus was not pure, but deep down, he believed himself to still be a good man. Riding back up the coast upon a black steed, the dark paladin headed north.
The Lava Lord burst from the lava pool. Its horn rose into the air as its serpentine body arched into a crescent, dropping lava of scalding liquid gold from its glowing, sweltering scales. The wave of lava its body conjured from merely swimming swiftly through the dense magma, crashed against the stone bank, sending a bright yellow pool, flooding across the stone to wash into the pin, which had held the endless amount of spirits. Unable to cry as their gleaming bodies were swallowed in the lava, the cage melting and crumpling into a pile of liquid metal mush, the Spirits perished and were no more. The Lava Lord rose to a 30 foot height, its webbed wings twisting and curling in the hot sulfuric air. Its maw parted, the mandibles on either side of its jaws spreading, as its burning gullet swelled with a low, haunting bellow.
The colossal beast reached the apex of its ascent before its body began sinking back into the molten river. It swung its head forward like a hammer, its head slamming onto the stone ground. The beast, through a pair of three eyes that gleamed like turquoise jewels gazed upon the lone creature that faced it. Flaming tongues lashed in and out from behind its teeth. Its body behind its head inflated like a balloon as the flames began to flicker wildly. Parting its jaws, its throat deflated on a fiery blast as streams of fire gushed from its mouth, passing over the golem with a current so violent, it incinerated the stalagmites in its path. The flaming stream extended like a swirling torrent, churning as it reached the bridge and incinerated the remaining six Fleshnids that had been behind the group. The stream would not stop there…
@Scarescrow's sacrifice delays the Lord for 1 turn.
Captain looked to Luxek, when the lantern-wielding creature selflessly announced to its comrades that it would block one side. Waving and blowing on its lantern, Captain thought the wispy green flames would burn the arachnid creatures, but it hadn’t done a thing but frighten them. The Fleshnids on the wall shrieked and immediately turned thorax, fleeing from the flames as though they truly burned.
The fox girl was next to volunteer, demonstrating a power over ice as she froze the ground and then the Fleshnids in its path. Four Fleshnids were frozen solid in mid-step, and the remaining six were sliding passed them as though unfazed by their chilling fate.
Captain gazed forward at the intended path. The one with the holes in his face had started to clear the route ahead with his bug balls. He turned back around to attack one of the Fleshnids who had climbed out from under the bridge, his ball striking the creature in the back and causing it to flail and screech as the invading parasites burrowed into its flesh. Captain watched it collapse into the bubbling vat below and frowned. Behind the bug one, continuing to descend from the walls, their efforts didn’t seem to matter for more were coming!
“We need to move!” Captain yelled.
He felt useless. He raised a hand to protectively cup the Spirit on his shoulder as he lunged into a jog. The others seemed to have impressive powers,while he lacked a noticeable weapon. A slender, red leg darted out from under the bridge into the Captain’s path. The man tripped, falling onto the hard ground and gasping as he dropped the poor Spirit, sending it tumbling. The luminescence in his eyes briefly brightened as they grew with fright. The Fleshnid crawled like a spider on its numerous appendages onto the bridge, swiftly approaching him. Captain flipped over onto his back, bending his legs at the knees as he brought them closer to his torso to avoid the blade-like legs that stabbed into the stone of the bridge. As he thrust out his right hand toward the creature, his arm split into rectangular panels that began to flip, pile, and gather, forming into the shape of an alien cannon. The Fleshnid screamed just before a single plasma orb burst from the cannon’s crackling muzzle to pop its head like a bubble of blood. Captain gazed upon his strange weapon in fascination before his eyes went to the beast that was tearing and plowing through the other Fleshnids that were trying to lay siege to the bridge. Beyond the beast, and beyond the fox girl’s ice sculptures, the area brightened with a yellow, sun-like radiance. He squinted his eyes and felt the heat rising about them as it grew closer. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good.
Flipping over onto his hands and knees, Captain pushed off the ground, reaching down to once again scoop up the Spirit and return it to his shoulder. He protected it with his left hand while his gun arm was occupied with its current transformation.
“RUN!” Captain warned.
He continued to shoot down the bridge, shooting passed Troy without even thinking. The action felt practiced. He had done it before and somehow his muscles knew where to aim. The blaze disintegrated the ice sculptures and was disintegrating the bridge as it continued to expand.
At the end of the bridge, where Fleshnids were beginning to gather was a circular passage leading to another chamber. The Fleshnids were trying to block the groups’ escape, crawling over each other as they formed a net-like barricade with their writhing bodies. From the passage, a distant caw of a familiar bird was heard echoing from the next chamber.
GM Note: A sacrifice is never necessarily a bad thing neither is it a good thing. If your character dies, then you are not kicked out of the game. Just like Dark Souls (but not the same), you merely start all over as a Spirit with 0 souls. This rule MAY change later depending on how frequent characters die, and if you all vote to have the rule taken away. Majority wins. A player can join as a Spirit in the next area, or if a Spirit is discovered before the next area. The GM will announce the appearance of a Spirit or "Spirits" if any are to appear. Take this warning into consideration as you make logical decisions throughout the game. You also cannot rely on my PC to always help you make logical decisions. He is expendable.
Strategy: There are a total of 30 Fleshnids on the bridge. They are Ascendant 1 much like yourselves. How you go about defeating them is up to you all. HOWEVER, the longer you remain on the bridge, the more Fleshnids will arrive. For each turn the group remains on the bridge and doesn't advance, I will add 30 more Fleshnids. Yes, they're like a serious pest problem. You do not want to remain on the bridge any longer. That is all the obvious hints I will offer to you.
Boss: Lava Lord Status: Alive
Minions: Fleshnids Total killed: 23/30 Added: 30 Total Remaining: 37
These are souls, which will be awarded once the group clears The Maw level. Souls can be shared by characters at the end of the level. Do not add these souls to your CS until the level is clear. You will know when these Souls are addable when they are no longer grayed out. Troy Crane - 4 @Duoya Luxek - 2 @RyuShura Inari - 4 @Tenma Tendo Beast - 6 @Tominas Captain - 4 @Holy Soldier
I'm working on the GM post. If you guys want a discord chat, to have you all interacting and socializing as you wait for others to post, let me know and I'll gladly make one.
@Etherean FireIf you weren't bogged down by college, I would pitch to you my Bloody Roar game since you like writing intricate fighting posts. That is definitely the game to be doing stuff like that in.
I am looking for some writers who enjoy the fighting genre and who enjoy artistically, weaving combat posts. This game is currently small, which small is usually best, but I do plan for us to get bigger, and hopefully, with gifted story-driving writers.
Now this may seem silly, but I have to say it. This is an Advanced game. The CS IS Advanced, but it is also do-able. I had two players get bummed out because they got frustrated mid-way through the character creation process. If you don't normally fill out advanced CSes, but still want to join this game, I will help you best I can.
But I hope to see some great stories in this. :)
So far, we have a hornet and a tiger. All other animals are open.
Hello all. I am an experienced writer who is writing my own fiction stories on the side. I can role play any genre. What I love most is being able to go-all-out when weaving tales with other writers. It just makes the story more interesting, so I can't wait to write with you. :)
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Hello all. I am an experienced writer who is writing my own fiction stories on the side. I can role play any genre. What I love most is being able to go-all-out when weaving tales with other writers. It just makes the story more interesting, so I can't wait to write with you. :)</div>
Bork
Captain Uni
Guardian Angel Haruki
