Legion02

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

Can you post WIP sheets? I'd make a goddess of mana but I only have her sphere and portfolio down so far.

Legion's Characters

The Huntress

Name: Sarah Gallagander
Appearance:

Age: 29

Personality: In the safety of a bar or a church she might appear almost chatty and carefree. If not a little bit rude and indecent. She’ll drink too much and laugh too loud as if she was living the good life. The truth is that she does it all just for some temporary relief. On a hunt though, she changes. She’s quiet and uncaring. Against monsters and witches she’s downright cruel. Against those that aid and abed she’s without mercy. In a battle Sarah throws herself at the enemy with reckless abandon. Then, the second she’s warming herself at some tavern’s hearth she’ll smile and make her crude jokes.

History: Born in a small cottage under the watchful eye of an experienced wet nurse, Sarah’s birth held no omens towards her future. When she grew up, Sarah became an exceptionally beautiful woman despite being born from two very normal, peasant parents. In fact, someone had first spread a rumor that her beauty was so strange amid the fields of Chestshire that she had to be some princess hidden away. Of course, the realm was a subject was ruled by a benevolent king that would never send away a child of his. So the rumor was quickly quelled but not the name. “Hidden princess.” When she got older, her beauty did not vanish. Many men asked for her hand in marriage. Promising wealth and protection. But Sarah never settled. Nor did she take a consort for her own pleasure. Instead, she kept herself pure for someone God would send to her. Sarah was devout and believed that someday someone would walk into her tiny little village and he’d be the one.

She was right. A mysterious gentleman arrived at her cottage begging food and drinks. He was gravely wounded. Sarah spent her nights nursing him back to health. When he was healthy enough, they realized their love. Her god had heard her prayers. Until the man was fully healed.

She found her cottage eerily quiet as she stepped in that one fateful night. Candles were lit everywhere yet the shadows remained long and dark. Outside not a bird was singing. Only a crow was cawing. She still remembers what he said. “Finally, you’re here.” The next thing she knew she was suspended mid-air. Unable to move, unable to talk. Terror flooded her mind but the man just continued his work.

When everything was said and done he left her, bleeding to death in her won cottage surrounded by extinguished candles in a cold, winter night. Sarah, however, refused to die. Still bleeding she lit her hearth and threw in an iron poke. When the metal was red-hot she pressed it against the wounds in her belly and screamed out. The day after she woke up from the shock. The wound was sealed, for now. She went to a physician immediately. Who gave her the worst news you could give a woman. She would never bear children.

Sarah turned into a broken, hollow woman. She toiled her fields with empty eyes for a year. Her will to live slipping ever further away. She stopped praying. No god would answer her. Until a group of hunters entered her village. Dragging a witch behind them in chains. She was a beautiful woman, like Sarah. But a witch and the hunters would burn her. They requested a pyre to be built on the town square. It was the first witch burning the town had had in decades so the eager plebs swiftly dumped any firewood they had in a big pile in the middle of the square. When done, the witch was bound to the pole and the pyre was lit. With it, Sarah’s fire ignited as well. She asked to join the group of hunters and as it turned out, they could use some help tending to their equipment and cooking for them. They treated her with respect and she dutifully carried out her chores as a camp follower.

It didn’t take long before Sarah uncovered her gift. She was ruthless and uncaring. Where other hunters, even the boldest, may have doubted themselves she marched on. Where other hunters, the most vicious, would have contemplated mercy she was merciless. Sarah’s talent for killing witches gained her fame. It didn’t take long before she struck out on her own.

Since then Sarah has become a bane of witches. Be they father or mother, grandmother or child she has burned and killed them all with ruthlessness. Why does she do it? Many have theorized it is because she is seeking revenge upon witches as a whole. Others believe she is merely on a path of self-destruction.

Signature Weapon: Her blade, a weapon that is close and personal. A weapon that makes her see the fear in the eyes of any witch. The weapon that makes the vile blood flow.

Things they look for in a partner: It’s a fact that Sarah doesn’t really want a permanent partner. The only thing she wants is some fun and someone that can take care of him/herself in battle. Because she really doesn’t want to babysit anyone. Of course, having the same nihilistic outlook on the world is a boon. Still, don’t expect Sarah to stick for long. One morning you might wake up and she’s gone without as much as a note.

Pets/Familiars: Strangely enough the crow that cawed outside her cottage began accompanying Sarah.

The Warlock

Name: Ryleth
Appearance:

He has series of scars, quite evidentially of a whip, on his back. He also has scores more pale, fresh scars on his chest. Though they seem to have come many different weapons. He never told anyone at the Bloodrose Coven how he got either of the set of scars.

Age: He's about 64 though he doesn't look a day older than 25.

Personality: Cold, calculating, cruel, manipulative. All those words are often used by people to describe Ryleth. They’re not wrong. In his quest for power he has been cruel. Nobody was too big to sacrifice. Towards many he acts extremely cold. Ryleth would not care if the average person must die. To anyone with power it is readily apparent that he’s a viciously cunning person. Willing to snake himself through the many trappings to attain status. As for manipulative. He has a serpent’s tongue for sure.

Yet he is so much more than just all that. He has few real friends yet for those he is willing to walk through fire. He cares about the coven, even though many may doubt that. Ryleth seeks power to protect. To make sure that no witch has to grow up in fear of what they are. He wants to make sure that no witch has to grow up the way he had to. When it comes down to it, Ryleth will do whatever is necessary to defend the coven.

History: Ryleth did not descend from any great line. He was not born to magnificent witches. In fact he wasn’t even born into wealth. He held no great family’s name. Grand blood did not course through his veins. Everything before his birth seemed to point to a miserable, downtrodden, lonely life. His mother did not know who the father was. In fact she barely cared for her son when he was born. Every time the sun fell below the horizon she vanished. Only to come back home when dawn broke. Drunk, angry and broken once more. As a child he had to steal to eat. Ryleth became a good thief. His mother though, she got worse. With every passing year she became angrier, drunker and more broken. Ryleth first tried to love her but that love was answered with venom and hate. If he received any attention, it was in the forms of curses and rage. She blamed him for her misfortune more and more. To the point that Ryleth began to return the hate in silence. As a talented thief he withheld his coins. He got to eat, she was starving more and more. Finally she got sick when Ryleth was but 15. He watched her squirm on the floor. Waiting for her to die. Wanting her to die. When she finally passed away, he left the house.

After that Ryleth began to search for his father. The kid was not a fool. He could do things no other human could. Impossible things. He told himself his father was responsible for it. It took the boy two years to track the man down. He was a drunken fisherman. Every day he set sail and every night he tried to drown himself in a tankard. Still, Ryleth was over joyed to meet him. He pestered his father with questions about his ancestor. Until the old man finally snapped. He explained the boy that yes, he was a warlock. Though it was a random curse of fate. Something he should not heed or cultivate. He was better off without it. Ryleth, until this point, had been able to survive through magic. The child fell back in his chair and realized both of his parents were useless. He left the old man and never returned.

Finally, to find a glimpse of destiny, he approached a seer and begged her to tell his future. She told him he had no destiny. No greatness was awaiting him. He was a child of a harlot and a walking drowned man. Nothing waited for him but death at the end of his very short road. Something snapped within Ryleth. Who had always heard the same things said about him. He could not bear for that to be his reality. So instead he decided, then and there, to forge his own. In a rage he jumped the soothsayer and strangled her in her own caravan. Little did he know that she was a real, wandering witch. He explored her caravan and plundered it for her books. After that he burned it to the ground. It was the first time he had killed someone.

What followed was a descend into madness. He felt guilty over his act yet he still wanted to gather the power he got from his actions. As his own consciousness was consuming him he began to blackmail librarians into teaching him how to read and write. Though he never stayed long enough in one place so he could grow close to a single teacher. Even though some had tried. He was still a boy at heart and kept running away from the horrible things he did. But one can only run so far and so long until reality and consequences catch up. He killed someone and he felt terrible for it. Driven by terrible guilt he went back to the city where he had once found the seer and commissioned a grave for her. This attracted the attention of another witch. One night she cornered him and forced the truth out of the novice warlock.

Ryleth admitted every wrongdoing he had done in his life. In a bout of hopelessness and self-loathing he confessed everything. Down to the pettiest crime while this grand witch was listening. Fully expecting to be sentenced to death by her. Instead of that, she took him under her wing. Eleanore was her name and Ryleth loved her like the mother he never had. She taught him the basics of magic but also responsibility. For years he stayed with her and her little coven. It was nothing grand, nothing spectacular. A bunch of healers and seers. People who charmed flowers into growing and warded off diseases. They didn’t have much but they shared it all. For the first time in Ryleth’s life he felt loved and safe.

It couldn’t last. Zealous church-hunters entered the town a decade after he joined Eleanore’s coven. As a proclamation they had dragged a woman behind her whom they excused of being a witch. Neither Eleanore nor Ryleth believed that to be true but she burned at the stake none the less. When the pyres began to rise around the city, Ryleth begged his adoptive mother to run with the coven. She refused to leave the people that needed her the most. After a year of begging and half the coven fled Eleanore’s resolve finally broke and agreed to flee.

Later that very same night the hunters came knocking on her door. They had found the head of the coven. That same night she was thrown on the pyre. Ryleth stood amid the crowd. From atop the grand, burning pyre she spotted his hooded form and smiled like only a proud mother could smile. It broke Ryleth. He stayed there, until dawn. Until everyone, even the hunters were gone and only ash remained. He knew he should fee hatred, sadness, pain. Instead, he felt nothing. Nothing at all. He was numb.

He vanished after that morning. No-one of his former coven heard from him again. In the village, they mostly tried to forget the witch burnings and the hunters. Life continued in its mundane way. For three decades they thought they were safe. But as the thirstiest anniversary approached of the burning, strange things began to happen. Ethereal lights were seen at night. Strange howls could be heard deep within the forests. In the graveyard, tombstones began to sink into the ground. The villagers pooled money to pay for some hunters.

Ryleth has never told anyone what happened that night. Though there are stories told by human bards. When the moon rose, a strange fog gripped the streets of the village. Suddenly creatures of the nights and undead monsters began to appear in the streets. They broke down doors and dragged people towards the main square. The hunters began to cut their way through the evil minions until they found the witch in the middle of it all. At the church's square. A massive pyre made from church pew's was raging. People, alive, were thrown into the grand pyre. The hunters fought the witch and pushed him back into the empty church. Where they said they could finally beat him down and destroy him on the altar.

A year later Ryleth appeared in the forests near Castle Bloodrose.

Special Power: Ancient Necromancy - While gifted in the arts of necromancy, in the far southern desserts he gained new insight. While still capable of raising the average zombies from their graves, Ryleth prefers more complicated methods. He maintains the bones he uses and carefully engraves glyphs upon them. Some are even gilded or reinforced with bands of iron. He raises the dead upon a special, strange altar and uses intricate phylacteries. The result speaks for itself: these skeletons are vastly more difficult to destroy and they are worth three score of zombies. They are also far from mindless. As a forsaken soul inhabits the bone construct. Ryleth’s masterwork creations will offer a challenge to all but the most veteran hunters. And his powers don’t stop there. He knows he’s at the cups of a breakthrough towards something much greater.

Things they look for in a partner: Ryleth never thought about having a partner. He usually just wants some fun. Still, deep down the idea of a relationship hasn’t escaped him. He knows he’s not ready though. There is still too much to be done in this world before he can set it all aside. Still, if he had to chose a partner he would prefer a gentle girl. Someone who was spared from the atrocities of mankind.

Pets/Familiars: Ryleth’s familiar is a large vulture bird. It came with him from his travels south. The carrion is fond of the corpse meat Ryleth feeds her.

Takanis - A Historically Inspired Fantasy NRP

I'm afraid I'm not going to be playing in the RP as well. But Rainbow can use the Exiles as an NPC so nobody has to alter the history they may or may not have with me!

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

I'm afraid that I'll be pulling out of this RP. I just can't muster up any creativity for it anymore sadly. Which I know is my fault. Still, when writing continues to feel like a chore, again and again, it's better to quit than try and drag it out on. When it comes to Ragnagedon and his creatures: you can use him and them as NPCs. Thanks for the awesome times and I hope this RP continues to flourish!

Takanis - A Historically Inspired Fantasy NRP

WIP

Exiles of the Barren Isles

Name of Nation: Exiles of the Barren Isles
Species: Human
Culture and Society:
Religion – As many exiles came from Caelrumoste, Athia and old Alwatea, the Barren Isle counts several religions. As the Athian exiles arrived first at the island, they created their own church of the Archangel. However, they saw that the conflict that led to their banishment was not entirely a conflict of magic but rather one of religion. So the earliest version of the Council demanded that religion would never mingle in government or the Nexus. When the Alwatean refugees arrived, they brought with them their own gods. As the First Council generally did not meddle with religion, they allowed the Alwatean refugees to worship their own gods under the same laws. The same deal was taken by several Caelrumoste refugees who fled from the strange civil war that seemed to be happening in their homeland. In the end the vast majority worships three main religions. None of them originating from the Barren Isles.

While normally the lines between state and religion are respected, the Athian church has recently brought forth a request. They would like to organize pilgrimages towards their old continental land towards the great churches of the Archangel. So far the Council has not brought this issue before Athia. The other two religious factions seem quite content with staying where they are.

History:

Territorial Claims:

My Hider

The Barren Isles are divided in two main parts. The eastern part has the most livable one. The main island is called the Isle of Rock. Here most of the Exiles live in the capital City Haven. Which is in fact the only city that exists on the Barren Isles. Smaller villages do exist though.

The western half’s main island is the Isle of Mist. A place hidden by a thick fog and full of mysteries. Here the Nexus resides. A vital complex built within a mountain. From here most of the wealth is also mined. Surrounding it are the Guardian Isles. Where tiny outposts remain to keep a careful watch over the Exiles’ best-kept secret.

Haven

Haven is the first city made by the Exiles on the Barren Isles. With its central position in the South Sea, Haven's port became a meeting point for merchants. Haven itself capitalized on it by massively expanding their harbor district, walling it off and designating it a special jurisdictional area. Essentially the harbor district enjoys slightly lower taxes and laxer laws.

Economy:

Safe from the fishes from the perilous seas the Barren Isles lack any form of agriculture. However, deep beneath the rocky ground and harsh mountains lie great veins of iron, silver, gems, gold, and celestialite. Using the subjugated locals as slaves the Exiles mine as much of these resources as they can. Still, many believe the veins won’t dry up for another three centuries. Once mined they are processed. Gold and silver are sold as ingots. The gems are often used to craft trinkets by artisans. While often very detailed and beautiful, the artisans can’t make many of them. Thus there is a certain scarcity to them. Finally, the mages’ their great magical sophistication allows them to craft magical artifacts of near unrivaled quality.

The Exiles are also offering services to those who can afford it. These services rang from highly regarded ward weaving to the obscure prophecies. Exiles do everything to the benefit of their homeland. So Exile mercenaries are utterly unheard of.

The Gold District

- The Hall of Flowing Gold -

The Gold District borders the harbor district of Haven. Though unlike the harbor district, it does not enjoy lax laws. The Gold District began as a place for vaulters (people who offered to store and protect your gold) and jewelers (who use the Vaulters' services). However, it quickly became apparent that these vaults could be used to store all sorts of things. It also became apparent that the proof that you had your gold stored in a vault was basically the same as using the gold. Though it weighed far less. So the vaulters took up the job of banks. Storing valuables and letting people use their contracts to trade in Haven. These days the Vaulters want to expand their infrastructure and go international.

However, not all vaulters became banks. Some allowed traders to store their goods for long times. For example weapons could stay in good condition in vaults. Thus they could be stockpiled and when the need arises, sold. However, it was quickly realized that you can't sell such massive amounts on a market place. Nor did buyers of such quantities walk from stall to stall gathering up the weapons. So to the first bulk trade market stalls came to be. By selling contracts allowing people to just pick up their goods at a certain warehouse. It was also quickly realized that using a "first come, first served" trade technique was detrimental. As some other buyers often wanted to bid higher for certain goods than others. In the end, the auction houses were made and moved closer to their respective warehouses.

However, the Council did not want to let this ingenious financial idea go to waste. So in the past 20 years they have been working towards unifying the different auction houses in a single hall. This hall is now known as the Hall of Flowing Gold as vast sums of money flow through it like a river.

Army: The Exiles used to lack any form of formal army. Instead each Family had a Household Guard. Tasked to protect the Family’s land. As only people part of the Exile class can become Household Guard and due to its rather low prestige, few chose the job. However, since the recent mounting fear coming from the cyclops in the west, more Exiles have clamored for an official army that can defend them in the events of an attack. The Order of Stone was made and contains Household Guards that have at least five years of experience. This has limited the recruitment pool rather significantly. Furthermore, while magic education is a common right for all Household Guards, magic in close combat is an unexplored idea so far. The only upside they have is that the equipment is paid by the Council. This means that at the very least their equipment is of some degree. Yet far from what many warriors would want.

Navy: Wood is a scarce resource on the islands. Thus a large navy compromised of wooden ships would be impossible. Still, the Exiles knew that their island homes and more importantly the Nexus had to be protected. The first clues on how to do so came from the Deep One “Leviathan”. A massive creature that, according to legend, protects the Isle of Mist. In the first Communion, which took place right after the second Awakening of the Nexus, Leviathan said that the creatures of the sea obey the deep and the moon. After consulting the Nexus methods using the Lore of the Deep and the Lore of the Moon were used to control the creatures of the sea. With significant results. Dull creatures like the Giant Turtle were easily lulled into a prolonged trance. While South Sea Serpents were less easy to control though much easier to simply direct. Later on smaller ships were bought from trading partners or taken from south sea pirates. These ships are now generally used to patrol the coasts of the Isle of Stone or send as merchant ships along the Giant Turtle Ships. The Exiles trust Leviathan to protect the Isles of Mist and he has not disappointed them so far.

Giant Turtle Ships – Giant turtles are lulled into a trance-like state using magic. Atop its ancient shell housing and warehouses are placed. These slow creatures are only defended by their extremely thick skin. For predators, this means that they are often not worth going after. Yet those atop their shells are not so well defended. Giant Turtle Ships are only ever used for trade and transport. The animal can carry vast loads. When nearing a harbor smaller ships, unfit for the open seas but safe near the coast, are lowered from the shell into the water and then do trade with the harbor.

South Sea Serpents – Large serpents capable of fighting ships one on one. Control is a fickle thing with these beasts. They can be aimed at ships and told to hold off on attacking. Yet when the leash is off, they will charge with animalistic bloodlust. Few are spared by the serpents. Yet they make an effective tool to protect the Barren Isles’ coast.

Stone-nose shark swarm – The reason why these sharks have such strong noses is subject of debate amongst the Exiles. Though the commonly accepted theory is that they use it to ram and crack large crustaceans shells to eat out the flesh underneath it. Alas, to most Exiles it does not matter. The Exiles will use a form of mass-illusion to create the smell of blood near a target. The stone-nose sharks will come up from the deep to attack whatever is near the smell. Gifted groups of Exiles are able to whip the sharks into a frenzy. Resulting in even deadlier attacks. While their stone noses allow them to stand a chance against smaller vessels, the shark swarm is extremely inefficient against larger, stronger vessels.

Deep One "Leviathan"

“From the dark deep he came. At first, we didn’t see it in the storm. Then lines lit up below us. Vast lines of light blue light. The boat stopped moving. We thought we had run aground. No, the beast stopped us. Below deck, the screams began. Water was rushing in, it could hear it. Yet nobody on deck moved. Wide-eyed we kept looking at the lines in the water. I’m not sure what pushed me. I want to say instincts but all my instincts told me one thing: I could not survive. Unfortunately, I did and I think it allowed it. It allowed me to jump the ship. Now don’t ask me what I saw in the water. Don’t ask me. I just know that it let me jump. So I could tell you this. Don’t go near the Isle of Mist uninvited.”
Logan Krutz, former pirate captain of the Deep Snake.

Leviathan has long been a local South Sea myth. A vast create that drags entire ships to their doom deep below the waves. The Locals of the Barren Isles call him “Ushtha” or Guardian. Of the Exiles, only a handful of people have ever communed with the Deep One. From those few conversations, it would appear that he is not hostile towards the Exiles (for whatever reason). He also taught them how to craft a trinket that will offer anyone who possesses it safe passage to the Isle of Mists. Leviathan is apparently not the only Deep One that exists. However, according to those who talked to him the others are dead/asleep/dreaming. The word he used seems to imply all three of those options as if they were one. The only connection there seems to be between him and the Barren Isles (other that he stays close to it) is that he seems to understand the concepts of the Lore of Deep.

Traits:

Foreign Relations:

Rolls: (Rolled by GM in the Discord Server. Just ping me, and I’ll roll as soon as I’m able.)

Other:

Exile Magic

The Exiles pride themselves in gathering an archive of magic from around the world. As many were banished from different nations, a great many different kinds of magic are used on the Barren Isles. The archive is also constantly expanded by foreign tomes and artifacts. However, the magic they use is very much different from most other nations. It is divided into different Lores. Each with their mysterious sources, tales, and explanations for magic. Each Lore is then divided into different Aspects. Which have shared traits between them, tying them to the Lore. Yet each explains a different way of thinking around the central Lore.

The Lore of the Deep contains magic to hex and curse. Deep magic bases itself on the depth of the ocean. That far away yet haunting place that could hide entire worlds. Much like a diver learns to go deeper and deeper, so do students of the Deep learn to give themselves to the watery depths. In return their understanding of the magic they practice expands. To the point that they can make the waves obey their demands

The Lore of Terra is possibly the closest to what many nations may call “traditional” magic. It gives control of your surroundings. Things like telekinesis, fire magic and nature magic all fall under the lore of Terra according to the Nexus Order. Many consider the Lore of Terra The easiest lore to learn. Due to its familiarity outside of the Barren Exiles, objects to be enchanted and sold are often enchanted with the Lore of Terra.

The Lore of the Moon was, until recently, lore many considered the most mysterious one. Students of Moon Magic are often called Seers or Mentalists. While no Moon Mage will ever offer you certainty, they may offer you a glimpse of the past that never was, the present far away or the future that may be. The most famous/dreaded aspect of Moon Magic is Dream magic. Which is used to test people before they may enter the Nexus. People who use Dream magic are called Dreamwalkers.

The Lore of the Sun is by many considered the strongest Lore. It is true that its effects, unlike the Lore of the Deep and the Lore of the Moon, are far more straightforward. The Lore of the Sun contains exclusively offensive aspects except for the Aspect of the Ward. Which allows them to weave complex magical protections. It is also the Lore most used to enchant domestically used weapons.

The Lore of the Stars. A lore that is about two decades old now, Star Magic gives a strange mixture of blessings, curses and other utility. The reason it is considered so strange is that the magic calls upon constellations that either don’t seem to exist or have an impossible name. Thus it is seriously halting the Exiles’ study to comprehend the Lore.

The most recent Lore discovered is the Lore of the Void. Which derives its meaning and power from “the emptiness between the heavens” (a little and possibly faulty translation from the Nexus). So far no spells have actually been uncovered. In fact, the explained machinations of the Lore are seemingly impossible and the tales surrounding it are incomprehensible so far.

While it was known that the Lore of the Deep could have certain adverse effects on the human psyche, the risks were far outweighed by the advantages. Furthermore, the effects were well understood and could be combatted. The Lore of the Stars and Void also have seemingly strange effects on the humans that try to study them. Most of these are far less predictable and understood.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Sorry for my absence here. It's the final week where I work so a lot of work has to be done. I'll try to get a post up for all my arcs on Friday.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

The fire dragons were screaming at their ice kin as they approached. Thesan hid the shuddering in his heart while he continued to focus on the fire orb before him. The thing was fighting to implode before the great dragons. “What are they doing!?” Lira barked at no-one in particular. “The fools… The bloody fools! They’d rather fight us than kill the strangling tree?” She looked at her brother. There was doubt in his eyes, she knew it but he carried the Will of Ragnagedon. “Brother, grow our proclamation. I will deal with the hydra god.” A quick nod was enough. Lira released her hold over the orb and immediately Thesan was nearly blown away by the force he had to contain. But the Arch-Dragon was not to be defeated by his own power. Stone broke behind his hind legs as he dug his claws in deep. Meanwhile, Lira took flight and gathered a contingent of fire dragons as she ascended.

When high enough to overview the upcoming battle she cried out: “Three heads yet no brains at all! Do you not see we have a common enemy here? Do you not see the power that will strangle all of us?” She had to swallow her pride now for a second. “I propose a truce, hydra god! Wherever you hide! A truce for as long as this green monstrosity remains. So that we may destroy it and the hold it keeps on the land.” She hated every word she uttered.

Thesan released their proclamation. The blue fire orb was pushed forward, towards the massive trees and plans. The power of fire was not willing to burn the vegetations. No anything flammable would be reduced to ash the second it hit anything. Nothing would burn. Everything would be rendered to ash. As it turned out, the orb was heading straight for the wood-turned-villagers.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Response wont be up until tomorrow so post away my man.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Another man fell to the ground but Esif was nearly dragged with him. She took a moment to catch her breathe but it only made her realize how tired she was. The battle had raged for too long now. Still, she would kill. Kill until she was worthy of death. So when another figure appeared, she readied her blade. Only to see an all too familiar face. Right before she could question how he was still walking, Ghoran spoke. No, not Ghoran. That became clear with the first words that came out of his mouth. Esif readied her weapons again. That was not Ghoran. It wasn’t even human. Nor was the portal behind him. The spectacle extinguished the fighting spirit around Ghoran. Raiders and tribesmen stopped fighting as they could feel the strange, dangerous power radiating from the portal.

But when Esif was spoken to in person, as the thing that took over Ghoran’s body spoke of Ragnagedon, she fell down on her knees. Her blades dropping into the ground next to her. For a year now she had fought to get the attention of her god. Only to see another appear. One that wanted nothing but her dead. Was that her fate? To have worshipped a false god for a year now? To have killed in the name of someone who would never look at her? She was too tired for all of it. Esif fell to her knees. Ready to embrace her dead. At least she had lived a full year. Free from the sins of others. Free to live her own sinned life.

Fir watched it all unfold with staff and blade in hand. Much like Esif he felt his body aching. The grip on his items began to falter. When Esif fell, he knew all was lost. They would lose it all. In a way he wanted to give up as well. He too fell to his knees. The brazier-staff dropped, spilling it’s content before Fir. Setting the grass and mud ablaze. Maybe they had killed enough. Maybe it was time to sleep. But when he closed his eyes he could still feel the heat of the fire before him. No, it all felt wrong. This surrender. There was no hope but Fir did not want to surrender. He opened his eyes again to witness the helpless situation, and then he looked at the oil burning before him. Maybe everything was hopeless. Maybe everything was desperate. But maybe that was what was supposed to happen. Fir was not sure about anything he was about to do. Nobody had preceded him in this. Yet he was armored in faith. He pushed his blade into the burning oil before him. Coating it in fire. Before he turned the blade around, aimed for his heart and pushed.

The kill was instant and the oil began to eat away at his skin already. With glass, lifeless eyes a corpse fell over.

Esif opened her eyes again. Expecting to stand before some death god or worse. She did not expect a mountainside looking over a land of sooth and molten rock. Where the sky was black of smoke. A bit further from where she laid stood a figure with fiery red hair. “You’re a awake.” The figure said in a gentle, almost fatherly voice. “I will be honest with you. I never thought a human would make it so far so fast. My mother often told me you were a very surprising race but I’d bet she does look terrified now. Alas, enough about monsters. You and I have other things to talk about.”

When she opened her eyes, she stood amid the bloody battlefield once more. This time not afraid to die a worthless death. She was the first of his Chosen. The demons no longer scared her. One clearly didn’t get the message. With gnawing teeth and a sharp bronze sword he charged straight for Esif. She grabbed one of her swords and one fell, upwards sweep Esif send a wave of fire. It didn’t travel very far before it collapsed onto itself and into embers. Yet it had engulfed the demon who screamed in pain. To Esif, it was the most beautiful thing in existence.

It had to be shown more. Another sweep hit the demon and it dropped down, dead. Esif took his sword and charged the other demons. With newborn savagery she jumped in the air and stabbed the back of a demon. Fire ate away from the inside. Veins of ember grew over its skin before it collapsed in ash. With every hit, with ever slash she commanded the flames. Demons were soon to realize that she was no mere mortal.

In fact, she wasn’t the only one with suddenly inexplicable rule over fire. Almost broken figures were rising up again. Burning away man and demon alike. The demons, afraid like a kicked dogs, whimpered and made way. Opening up a path towards one of the two blood mages. Who locked its glowing eyes with Esif’s. It turned its fully body towards her, lifted up his arms and began his chant. Esif began to feel her blood coursing through her veins. Once she realized that the thing was practicing magic, she began to charge it. With every step her skin opened up. Letting the blood flow from her. Still, she came closer and closer. The demon continued its chant, louder and louder. The bloody lines in her skin began to form hexing patterns. Once complete she’d be doomed to a paralyzed fear. One that wouldn’t last long with this many demons around her, ready to gnaw the flesh off her bones.

Yet Esif charges one. The demon tried to chant louder and faster. He began to see the white in her eyes and then a single blade. It pierced its chest. The blood mage clutched at the wound once the blade was out but the time was already won. Esif delivered a devastating blow to one arm that tried to block it. She slammed down another. Every time bathing the ever further falling blood demon with fire. Until the arm and bone gave way. Esif grabbed the thrown blade and began to cleave its neck. The heated bronze failed to make a clean cut. The demon tried to crawl away but Esif didn’t allow it. She grabbed a horn of its heat and cleaved further. With every hit fire spewed from the blade and the creature let out a pained cry. Until the fourth cleave but Esif was still not done. It took four more hits and one of her blades got dulled by the bone. But she upheld her trophy high. The decapitated head of the demon. She stepped towards the demon and her own people. “Tell your god there is a new power to fear!” She screamed and as she screamed, the remain demons began to flee at the sight of their fallen blood mage and the other demonic corpses heaping up.

Then she turned to the human survivors. “Where are you gods now! Where are they!? Did they come to your aid in this battle? Did they bless you in your fight?” She stepped forward. Still clutching the head at a horn. “If you still believe your gods care about you then leave and never turn back. Run to your village! Run!” And so the tribesmen began to run back north. Abandoning their camp. Yet not all ran. A very few remained. “Why are you still here?” Esif asked.

“The gods abandoned us. Yours hasn’t. Why should we pray for those that don’t care?” One tribesman answered. He was young and fearful. Yet as he shook in his entire body, he tried to stand tall before Esif.

She observed him. Up and down. Much like Fir had done when he first found her. “There will be a price. A steep one. And there is no turning back from this. I’ll let you run back to your village now. Don’t expect me to be this merciful in the coming days.”

Yet the man di did not move.

“Very well. You’re a raider now.” When she said the words, fire engulfed the severed demon head she held. The flames ate away the flesh and blackened the bone beneath. Eventually, the flames faded and revealed the black skull. Like instinct, Esif dropped her blade and put the skull on her head. It fitted perfectly. “All hail the Chosen!” one veteran raider yelled as he raised his weapon. With the second cheer all raiders, young and old, joined in.

Search for Glory

Kedran of Intre

Race
Elf

Rank
Lt.

Money
200

Title
The Exile

Traits
~ Magic User ~
~ Close-Combat Expert ~

Flaws
~ Old World Disaster ~
~ Vanguard General ~

Strength
5
Intelligence
3
Charisma
2

History
The elves once ruled through might and magic. Unparalleled in the arcane arts, they believed themselves superior. Even towards each other. For years and years, they felt that their humble rituals no longer supported their modern lifestyle. None wanted to return to the woods and dance around a tree trunk. The mages believed themselves so superior that magic would listen to their every voice as it was law. It didn't take long before magic began to falter. Fewer and fewer were born with the sacred gift. For generations, the elven mages kept this a secret. Until their power began to fade. Clinging to their forlorn superiority, the faltering mages remained in their high towers. Even now they stay there. They adopt those who have the gift. Yet the power of magic is not returning.

Kedran was one such prodigy. Who squired within a mage tower, where the high-mages hoped to revive the ancient power. Kedran soon proved to be another failure and was made a Mage-Guard. He had the special duty to protect those more gifted students. It still gave him access to the tower's library. Where his curiosity drove him to find out why magic had vanished from the elves. It was in the library where he stumbled upon a few old scrolls marking locations deep within the wildwoods.

Within those woods laid the stone monoliths depicting early elves moving around. Dancing or practicing some martial arts. Kedran could fully identify it. The only thing he could read were the ancient runes carved at the bottom. Several days in a row he tried to copy the movements. During breaks, he deciphered the runes. When he finally solved the final puzzle, every rune on the circle of monoliths fell in sync and was clearly readable. Though it only read one word over and over again: Fire. With that in mind, Kedran continued to perform the moves while focusing on the word fire. When he was done, a small candle flame appeared on his finger. It remained there for a few counts. Enough for Kedran to realize that he was not dreaming. Years of practice under a High-Mage and he couldn't perform magic. Yet practicing a few simple moves allowed him to create fire. Overjoyed he rushed back to his lords.

Who chastised him for his absurdness. How could a few stones and a bunch of runes teach a failure like him how to practice magic suddenly? Realizing that his masters did not want to believe him, Kedran kept low but continued to visit various monoliths, caves and other sides deep within the wilds. Where he mostly drew the moves in his book, together with the runes. Still, his masters were on to him. Fearing their power could quickly be overshadowed by some idiot who thought the answer lied in the wilds, the Arch-Mages banished Kedran from Intre. Kedran, with his books of spells, sailed to the new world. Hoping to make a living as some mercenary as he was trained in close-combat to protect his more "gifted" colleagues. Sadly his reputation preceded him even in the old world.