Jinxer Member
The British One
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- Old Guild Username: Jinxer
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- Jinxer 12 yrs ago
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11 yrs ago
Currently living inside Life is Strange.
11 yrs ago
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack.
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Most Recent Posts
Totally interested
Still a blueprint so thoughts/additions are very much welcome!
Please forgive the horrendous attempt at rhythm/poetry/literary work at the top of this page. It sounded kind of nice in my head but I'm a historian - I leave the sophisticated echelons of creativity to my wife.
With this RP you will be able to choose to be any race with almost any background. Whether you be a dwarf, elf or human (the 'civilized' races); whether you be a criminal, a farmer, a merchant or a lord; the Protectors of Dawn will take anyone in whom they see potential, conscripting where necessary.
On with the information!
-This world is distinctly medieval (specifically pre-gunpowder) and has been in this state for millennia.
-Fristia is the central nation in which this plot will be based although I am very much open to adventuring into other countries and their diverse cultures. Fristia is bordered by the Golden Sea to the East with a federation of smaller nations encircling their entire land border. A causeway to the South which rings the Union Cliffs, constructed twelve-hundred years ago, provides passage to Arlan at low tide. Once unified by a shared monarchy, Fristia and Arlan have been at odds with each other in the past three centuries with open war declared twice, the last time being a mere seventy years ago. (I would share a map but I lack the cartographic skills to create anything resembling one).
-The state religion, the only accepted and influential faith, is based around an all-powerful being simply named the 'Creator.' The organised religion is headed by the Holy Triarchy, three men or women elected by their peers until death. It is named the Church of the Dawn, often referred to simply as 'the Church'.
-Humans are the only race who walk the world's surface in number. The largest nations, in terms of landmass, are all human-ruled.
-Dwarves prefer to hide underground or in their mountain fastnesses, very few who are not merchants or ambassadors of their people venture out into the open world. Usually those who do have been exiled and so a hardened attitude is directed at any who choose to leave the dwarven cities without trade or diplomacy as their main intent. Dwarves do not believe in any god or all-powerful being. Instead they venerate their ancestors who excelled at their craft or proved particularly central to past events, revering them as most races do their gods.
-Elves have all but disappeared, having retreated into the forest they were said to have first ventured from aeons ago where they fell victim to the first Nightmare hordes. Those who survive are seen as either ancient relics or as homeless scroungers. They often find service in the Church due to their longer lives making them particularly adept at record-keeping and scholarly research.
-Magic (yes, there is some). Magic is taught only within the Church and is not something one is born to. Church teachings claim that magic is the channeling of faith in the Creator which is then returned as power which can influence the elements of the world as He did in the beginning. Some magic exists outside of the Church but is clamped down upon as being born out of the Eternal Night; stolen from the Creator and therefore blasphemous. Dwarves are able to use magic with the aid of enchanted items in which energy has been stored, they cannot call upon any power themselves, and this requires specific training also.
Have you fled the coming of Night?
Have you followed your betters towards it?
Have you come of your own free will?
Or have you been deprived of it?
You find yourself in the small rural village of Alton-under-Hill, named in traditionally matter-of-fact Fristian sense for the hill in whose shadow it resides. Farmland neither rich nor poor can be found to the east, south and west of the village with Alton Hill rising above the surrounding plains to the north of the village. The only building with a sense of permanence is the village church whose walls are built from stone quarried leagues away and whose flint roof is said to have been constructed with materials from the surrounding farmland, giving the earth its fertility.
Nothing important ever happens in Alton-under-Hill. No kings, queens, great men or women come from the village and even its lord pays little attention to the village except for when his tax collectors bring in less than expected. Now, however, the small village has disappeared amongst a city of tents, pavilions and hastily constructed shelters as Fristia’s army follows its young prince against those who bring the Eternal Night. These creatures are simply named ‘Nightmares’ for being born out of the Creator’s tormented slumber.
The safety the army offers has attracted refugees fleeing the horde of the Eternal Night, swelling the village further and trampling the orderly farms into mud. Disease and famine has begun to spread as dwindling food stocks disappear and what remains is hoarded or stolen.
Accompanying the young prince and his army are an order dedicated to battling Nightmares and the Eternal Night which they bring. Surrounded in carefully constructed mystery and legend, the Protectors of Dawn select their candidates carefully and not all of these candidates make it into their ranks. Venerated above all else, even above the command of the Holy Triarchy from whose Church they were founded, the Protectors are looking for new recruits. You have caught their eye.
Please forgive the horrendous attempt at rhythm/poetry/literary work at the top of this page. It sounded kind of nice in my head but I'm a historian - I leave the sophisticated echelons of creativity to my wife.
With this RP you will be able to choose to be any race with almost any background. Whether you be a dwarf, elf or human (the 'civilized' races); whether you be a criminal, a farmer, a merchant or a lord; the Protectors of Dawn will take anyone in whom they see potential, conscripting where necessary.
On with the information!
-This world is distinctly medieval (specifically pre-gunpowder) and has been in this state for millennia.
-Fristia is the central nation in which this plot will be based although I am very much open to adventuring into other countries and their diverse cultures. Fristia is bordered by the Golden Sea to the East with a federation of smaller nations encircling their entire land border. A causeway to the South which rings the Union Cliffs, constructed twelve-hundred years ago, provides passage to Arlan at low tide. Once unified by a shared monarchy, Fristia and Arlan have been at odds with each other in the past three centuries with open war declared twice, the last time being a mere seventy years ago. (I would share a map but I lack the cartographic skills to create anything resembling one).
-The state religion, the only accepted and influential faith, is based around an all-powerful being simply named the 'Creator.' The organised religion is headed by the Holy Triarchy, three men or women elected by their peers until death. It is named the Church of the Dawn, often referred to simply as 'the Church'.
-Humans are the only race who walk the world's surface in number. The largest nations, in terms of landmass, are all human-ruled.
-Dwarves prefer to hide underground or in their mountain fastnesses, very few who are not merchants or ambassadors of their people venture out into the open world. Usually those who do have been exiled and so a hardened attitude is directed at any who choose to leave the dwarven cities without trade or diplomacy as their main intent. Dwarves do not believe in any god or all-powerful being. Instead they venerate their ancestors who excelled at their craft or proved particularly central to past events, revering them as most races do their gods.
-Elves have all but disappeared, having retreated into the forest they were said to have first ventured from aeons ago where they fell victim to the first Nightmare hordes. Those who survive are seen as either ancient relics or as homeless scroungers. They often find service in the Church due to their longer lives making them particularly adept at record-keeping and scholarly research.
-Magic (yes, there is some). Magic is taught only within the Church and is not something one is born to. Church teachings claim that magic is the channeling of faith in the Creator which is then returned as power which can influence the elements of the world as He did in the beginning. Some magic exists outside of the Church but is clamped down upon as being born out of the Eternal Night; stolen from the Creator and therefore blasphemous. Dwarves are able to use magic with the aid of enchanted items in which energy has been stored, they cannot call upon any power themselves, and this requires specific training also.
Aye, it was meant to be Faolan and Tora.
Wilfred got a tad lost along the way, all these Norsemen look the same!
Wilfred got a tad lost along the way, all these Norsemen look the same!
"At least we have some days off now and we get paid for it. With more than our lives, that is." Rhiannon reminded her friend. She put a comforting arm around her friend until the taxi pulled up. Rhiannon helped a clearly exhausted Julia into the vehicle before getting in herself and giving the driver directions. They arrived at the list of apartments which were reserved especially for 'government employees' while being kept secret from the public; it was safe in any case.
"Alright, I'll catch you in an hour or two then. I want to contact a few people first." She waved farewell and jumped up the stairs, her energy returning in bounds. Her large, modernly furnished apartment was the way she had left it, clean but a tad untidy with non-important paperwork and letters everywhere. Dismissing a half-born thought about cleaning the mess she went to her small office space and dug a laptop out of the desk, booting it up and logging into Skype.
"Hi Ela, how're you getting on? Just wanted to have a quick catch up..."
"Alright, I'll catch you in an hour or two then. I want to contact a few people first." She waved farewell and jumped up the stairs, her energy returning in bounds. Her large, modernly furnished apartment was the way she had left it, clean but a tad untidy with non-important paperwork and letters everywhere. Dismissing a half-born thought about cleaning the mess she went to her small office space and dug a laptop out of the desk, booting it up and logging into Skype.
"Hi Ela, how're you getting on? Just wanted to have a quick catch up..."
Sorry for the delay there. Thought I'd give Harald a bit of screen time since you all adore him so much.
In the rush, Wilfred had fallen far behind the Norse warriors even without any armour weighing down his steps. Months on little food to sustain himself while being cramped behind an oar or tied down to a deck had drained him of all his God-given stamina, at least where jogging was concerned it would seem. It was only as he slowed to a stop, looking around for any sign of where he would be best placed to help, that he felt the pain from Harald's last gift. Now that the Healing House was nothing but charred timbers and ashes recovery would come ever more slowly for his injuries. Images of Robbie's wound flooded his memory but the huge Saxon pushed them out of his mind; he could hear the sounds of Draugr and their victims all around him and pining after a damned Pict would only get him killed.
Hefting his woodcutter's axe, Wilfred stood in the centre of the pathway, well away from any shadows where one of the satan-spawn might creep up on him. Slow crunching in the snow close by had him whirl around, axe poised for a crushing blow, and if it were not for the stabbing pain in his back he may have swung the weapon before he even saw those approaching. The girl he recognised instantly with a flash of fury, leaning on one he remembered as another of the Ragnars' slaves.
"It's not Christian to sneak up on an injured man like that." Wilfred muttered as he approached them, axe lowered enough to not be threatening. "Where are you headed? An extra blade might be of use to you, what with these creatures seemingly in every damn shadow." He grestured to where a corpse lay still near a pile of barrels, a spear still stuck fast through the left eye socket to pin the entire creature against the wall. Whether it was actually dead for good or not was something Wilfred had no intention of finding out; if it was stuck in place then dead or alive it was no threat to them.
"I can take her if it will speed our passing, you look to be in better shape to be fighting these beasts anyway, if we come upon any."
Harald watched with disdain as his men dragged corpses out from another infested house, some of them half torn to pieces by the Draugr. He nodded and two of his largest men wielding blacksmith hammers set about crushing the corpses' heads, just to be sure. One of the corpses moved slightly but was swiftly held down by nearby men.
"I'm not Draugr! Please, believe me! Thegn Harald, please, let me prove I am not bitten." Harald waved his hand in boredom and the two men cut short the man's pleas with a succession of blows to his cranium. Other armed men were beheading nearby corpses, moving from house to house and removing all inside, none of the few and fortunate survivors making it past the entrance to their own homes. The street was littered with bodies but Harald's slaves were moving most of the corpses from the organised piles back into homes, especially the mauled ones, to disguise the slaughter being inflicted.
"This house has no dead or wounded, my Thegn." Harald turned and gestured wide with his arms to the nervous family herded before him. He greeted them with a wide smile, intended as a comfort.
"You are lucky to have survived this ordeal. The Gods must favour you. Come, my men will show you to my longhouse where it is safe until this is all past us. Make sure they have something warm to sustain them until they can return." He ordered one of the slaves who bowed, scuttling back towards the longhouse ahead of the fortunate family. Harald turned away from them, his false mask dropping back into a scowl as he returned to the grueling work of overseeing the sorting of those who were safe to live, and those who were not.
Hefting his woodcutter's axe, Wilfred stood in the centre of the pathway, well away from any shadows where one of the satan-spawn might creep up on him. Slow crunching in the snow close by had him whirl around, axe poised for a crushing blow, and if it were not for the stabbing pain in his back he may have swung the weapon before he even saw those approaching. The girl he recognised instantly with a flash of fury, leaning on one he remembered as another of the Ragnars' slaves.
"It's not Christian to sneak up on an injured man like that." Wilfred muttered as he approached them, axe lowered enough to not be threatening. "Where are you headed? An extra blade might be of use to you, what with these creatures seemingly in every damn shadow." He grestured to where a corpse lay still near a pile of barrels, a spear still stuck fast through the left eye socket to pin the entire creature against the wall. Whether it was actually dead for good or not was something Wilfred had no intention of finding out; if it was stuck in place then dead or alive it was no threat to them.
"I can take her if it will speed our passing, you look to be in better shape to be fighting these beasts anyway, if we come upon any."
Harald watched with disdain as his men dragged corpses out from another infested house, some of them half torn to pieces by the Draugr. He nodded and two of his largest men wielding blacksmith hammers set about crushing the corpses' heads, just to be sure. One of the corpses moved slightly but was swiftly held down by nearby men.
"I'm not Draugr! Please, believe me! Thegn Harald, please, let me prove I am not bitten." Harald waved his hand in boredom and the two men cut short the man's pleas with a succession of blows to his cranium. Other armed men were beheading nearby corpses, moving from house to house and removing all inside, none of the few and fortunate survivors making it past the entrance to their own homes. The street was littered with bodies but Harald's slaves were moving most of the corpses from the organised piles back into homes, especially the mauled ones, to disguise the slaughter being inflicted.
"This house has no dead or wounded, my Thegn." Harald turned and gestured wide with his arms to the nervous family herded before him. He greeted them with a wide smile, intended as a comfort.
"You are lucky to have survived this ordeal. The Gods must favour you. Come, my men will show you to my longhouse where it is safe until this is all past us. Make sure they have something warm to sustain them until they can return." He ordered one of the slaves who bowed, scuttling back towards the longhouse ahead of the fortunate family. Harald turned away from them, his false mask dropping back into a scowl as he returned to the grueling work of overseeing the sorting of those who were safe to live, and those who were not.
Hi guys - great posts (just had a chance to read through them!).
I've moved (kind of, my stuff is in storage and I'm still looking for a place) but I should have more time on my hands now that everything has sort of settled down for a bit. I should have a post up in the next couple of days but it won't be earth-shattering/plot moving (ie. filler) so don't wait up on me!
I've moved (kind of, my stuff is in storage and I'm still looking for a place) but I should have more time on my hands now that everything has sort of settled down for a bit. I should have a post up in the next couple of days but it won't be earth-shattering/plot moving (ie. filler) so don't wait up on me!
Just to let you know I am here and keeping up with things - just moving house (country and job) so things are a bit hectic. Wilfred is following Ragnar at the moment so I'll jump in in a bit.
Sorry for the delay - finally had time to get one up!
Healing House, Harald
Harald eyed the lined, armoured men with apparent nonchalance and walked forward towards Ragnar until they were barely out of sword reach of one another. Although Loker represented the authority here no one was under the illusion of who was truly leading the men and it was to him those around Harald looked to, if not to himself, for leadership; it was unfortunate that Ragnar was physically the ideal of their people compared to Harald's stumpy physique.
"Ragnar, you are late. If you had been here with your men earlier I might have been able to save more inside... as it was I had to put the safety of the fort first. Having even a few Draugr run rampant could spell doom for every one of us." Harald turned away, gesturing at the healing house. "Where were you when those in danger needed you most? Busy consolidating power? Trying to take the Jarl's Hall before his body is even cold?" He raised his voice, mimicking impassioned rage, so that all around could hear him.
Just as he began to work himself into higher passions, one of his slaves ran up to him, apparently unaware of the armed confrontation. He had come from somewhere in the fort, not having seen any of the events at the healing house thus far; fear was plain on his face and he focused now only on the task he had been given.
"Draugr, in the fort! I came from the stockpile." Another slave appeared, also panting and white with fear.
"And I from the Jarl's Hall. I saw one of the others as a Draugr, they're everywhere!" Harald nodded calmly, looking to Ragnar.
"Now is not the time for petty squabbles, Ragnar. You and I have enough men to put down these Draugr and protect the defenceless within these walls. I will go with or without you... but I will let you defend the Jarl's Hall if it is important to you." His eyes twinkled darkly in amusement before the dwarfish man turned to his men and gestured for them to leave. As they filed away, leaving Ragnar's shield wall facing the survivors of the Healing House, Harald shook his head at the half-concealed men crouching amongst the rooftops surrounding the house with strung bows held low. It would have been a perfect time to slaughter Ragnar and those loyal to him but as loathe as he was to admit it, Harald might actually need those same men to survive the day.
"We return to the longhouse, arm up and then kill the Draugr. Search every house, every room. Anyone who has been bitten dies, no questions. We cannot risk this spreading further."
Healing House, Wilfred
Once his former master had left, the huge Saxon's shoulders unbunched, his figure visibly loosening with relief as all tension left his body. Although the Draugr were everywhere now, the immediate threat had gone for now, at least. Robbie was still unconscious but would be safest in Vigi's care; they would all be dead if the Draugr continued to run rampant however. Thus, Wilfred approached Ragnar, bowing his head to show some form of respect, or at least servitude.
"I am ready to serve... Ragnar." He still could not bear to use the word 'master' or any other form of it but he infused the name with enough respect that it in itself could be considered a title; at least from an 'ignorant' Saxon's point of view. "I am well enough to send these creatures back to Hell, if that is what you need of me." Wilfred chose his words carefully, fully aware of the similarities between Hell as the Christians knew it and Hel, the Norse goddess. He had yet to get a true measure on the Thegn and trod carefully.
The axe he held would be sufficient to kill the Draugr, having the power to strike them down when lesser weapons would merely 'wound' the nigh-upon-unkillable monsters. He hefted it onto one shoulder to show his readiness and awaited his master's command.
Harald eyed the lined, armoured men with apparent nonchalance and walked forward towards Ragnar until they were barely out of sword reach of one another. Although Loker represented the authority here no one was under the illusion of who was truly leading the men and it was to him those around Harald looked to, if not to himself, for leadership; it was unfortunate that Ragnar was physically the ideal of their people compared to Harald's stumpy physique.
"Ragnar, you are late. If you had been here with your men earlier I might have been able to save more inside... as it was I had to put the safety of the fort first. Having even a few Draugr run rampant could spell doom for every one of us." Harald turned away, gesturing at the healing house. "Where were you when those in danger needed you most? Busy consolidating power? Trying to take the Jarl's Hall before his body is even cold?" He raised his voice, mimicking impassioned rage, so that all around could hear him.
Just as he began to work himself into higher passions, one of his slaves ran up to him, apparently unaware of the armed confrontation. He had come from somewhere in the fort, not having seen any of the events at the healing house thus far; fear was plain on his face and he focused now only on the task he had been given.
"Draugr, in the fort! I came from the stockpile." Another slave appeared, also panting and white with fear.
"And I from the Jarl's Hall. I saw one of the others as a Draugr, they're everywhere!" Harald nodded calmly, looking to Ragnar.
"Now is not the time for petty squabbles, Ragnar. You and I have enough men to put down these Draugr and protect the defenceless within these walls. I will go with or without you... but I will let you defend the Jarl's Hall if it is important to you." His eyes twinkled darkly in amusement before the dwarfish man turned to his men and gestured for them to leave. As they filed away, leaving Ragnar's shield wall facing the survivors of the Healing House, Harald shook his head at the half-concealed men crouching amongst the rooftops surrounding the house with strung bows held low. It would have been a perfect time to slaughter Ragnar and those loyal to him but as loathe as he was to admit it, Harald might actually need those same men to survive the day.
"We return to the longhouse, arm up and then kill the Draugr. Search every house, every room. Anyone who has been bitten dies, no questions. We cannot risk this spreading further."
Healing House, Wilfred
Once his former master had left, the huge Saxon's shoulders unbunched, his figure visibly loosening with relief as all tension left his body. Although the Draugr were everywhere now, the immediate threat had gone for now, at least. Robbie was still unconscious but would be safest in Vigi's care; they would all be dead if the Draugr continued to run rampant however. Thus, Wilfred approached Ragnar, bowing his head to show some form of respect, or at least servitude.
"I am ready to serve... Ragnar." He still could not bear to use the word 'master' or any other form of it but he infused the name with enough respect that it in itself could be considered a title; at least from an 'ignorant' Saxon's point of view. "I am well enough to send these creatures back to Hell, if that is what you need of me." Wilfred chose his words carefully, fully aware of the similarities between Hell as the Christians knew it and Hel, the Norse goddess. He had yet to get a true measure on the Thegn and trod carefully.
The axe he held would be sufficient to kill the Draugr, having the power to strike them down when lesser weapons would merely 'wound' the nigh-upon-unkillable monsters. He hefted it onto one shoulder to show his readiness and awaited his master's command.
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