Is this the first time in history a T-14 might see combat?
TimelessParagon Member
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Shattered Steel - Armoured Fist. An RP about modern armoured vehicles in an alternate world- ON HIATUS
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10 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
This could be interesting... I might finally get to play some cultivators since those typically don't fit in the ordinary power scheme of most games
<Snipped quote by TimelessParagon>
Will most likely just hold a groupchat on discord of some kind. Though, I will be transparent that "Genki" is the only role I really need at the moment and the one that will have competition for the role. Everyone else, which you can call nepotism or favortism, has come to me days before with their pitches and are people I trust to be active participants. Right now I am just filling out roles.
Eh NP, it is how it is.
Praise the fool the majesty of god is indisputable...
Anyways this looks pretty cool might thrown a sheet later.
I have to ask if there will be a discord server or will we use the forum for most OOC stuff?
Anyways this looks pretty cool might thrown a sheet later.
I have to ask if there will be a discord server or will we use the forum for most OOC stuff?
Somewhere around the woods to dawnhaven.
A horse wagon sped along the woods on the path leading to dawnhaven. Its conductor, a grizzled man in his fifties named Gunther drove his horses like mad, whipping the reins again and again. A dirty lantern hung around the wagon front shining a weak cone of light upon the road ahead.
He passed a ruined wagon without paying any mind, such sights had become frequent as the number of blight born abominations increased.
"Accursed creatures, but don't worry my dear Selina, father's coming. Soon we'll meet again."
The conductor was originally a lunarian farmer born in a small village near Durantel, as is the case for most such communities, life was unpleasant but they held on, forming close, tight knit communities to help each other survive winter.
When news of the blight first spread most villagers paid it no mind for their kingdom was strong, they had delt with Aurelian invaders for centuries how could they not face a mere few monsters? Oh how wrong they were.
As news of the blight crept closer people begun to leave, at first a trickle then a torrent. Entire villages became ghost towns but not their village. They had toiled the land for centuries and where still far from the blight, furthermore they were near Durantel. Surely the royal forces stationed there would look out for them?
In the depth of night on a Saturday night doom would fall upon Gunther's village as a horde of bligh-twisted ravaged through the area. Their mere palisade proved useless against them and soon they where overrun. The man only surviving after being buried in the cellar by burning debris.
It took him three days to dig himself out at which point all was gone. The town, his house, his wife and his children.
Yet he still lived, fleeing to Durantel and finding opportunity as a minor merchant. Buying goods and selling them on his horse carriage all the while spending whatever he saved to seek his family.
After years the goddesses finally smiled upon Gunther: His loved ones still lived and had even taken up residence in the new town of dawnhaven.
As the man drove down the road A strange figure stepped out of the woods and right in front of the racing horse-cart. When Gunther finally reined in his frenzied horses he was fifty steps away thus only saw the being's shadowed figure in the dim moonlight.
Heart racing, the driver drew an axe as the figure came close:
"OY you out there, who are you and what are you doing this late in the woods?"
The shape didn't stop but continued, as he stepped into the lantern light the merchant saw that this was no blight born monstrosity but rather a man dressed exclusively in purple carrying a two swords: One massive on his back and a smaller blade at his waist. He didnt recognize the stranger's blades but they where no lunarian devices.
The stranger's face was pale but distinctly human, he made an awkward smile as he spoke:
"Why so grumpy? I am only a wanderer seeking their path, say? Dawnhaven's that way right?"
Pointing towards where Gunther would be heading.
"... yes?"
"Oh praise the lady, I've been running through these woods for days searching for that damned place, but enough of that. See ive worked up a mighty hunger from all the running and such I would like to buy something for you."
"...Ok?" he tentatively agreed, his merchant instincts smelled the opportunity for profit but The stranger's next words raised all his hairs on its heads.
"See I would like to buy your blood, not that much of course just enough to have my fill afterwards you shall be rewarded, continued the sword demon as he pulled out an assortment of Solaris and lunarian coins, it is a really simple th..."
He didn't get to finish as an axe split the air to where his skull was a moment before.
"MONSTER!!!, Foul abomination, become in the name of the moon least i take off your foul head!, BEGONE."
"No no no, you misudner..." the stranger tried to reason as another swing split the air this time towards his arm.
The cautious old man was gone, rather replaced by a creature which knew only fury.
Yet in the next instinct, as the merchant sat mid swing, before Gunther even realized, silver light shone fast as lighting followed by his headless body hitting the ground.
In his last moment of consciousness all he would hear was the stranger giving a long sigh....
"Why are they always like THAT, whispered Arthur Vorlein in an annoyed tone, we aren't monsters you know? Well to be honest we are mostly beasts... I didn't even want to kill this ooonnnee."
He bent down and picked up Gunther's severed head, its expression stuck in perpetual shock.
"See this is why next time.. You. Listen. First., spoke the purple swordsman to the head, If you had you would have been alive to see your wife husband or whatever."
"Now, this one's gonna have to clean his clothes, get rid of evidence, kill the horses... horses, wait come back!."
Yelled the swordsmen at the horses but evidently they didn't listen. Another moment later they froze then fell apart into four neatly cut halves.
"See now even your horses are dead because of you, at least I get a feast.. lets see here brain, eyes, heart, lungs, liver... ah you are still watching? Goodnight."
Said Vorlein as he dug out Gunther's eyes with a small knife.
neat, ig ill make a sheet then
Location: Headmaster's office,St-Eustache school for the enlightened
Mentions: @PatientBean[@Luari]@SilverPaw
Edward gave an appreciate nod to them room's furnishing as he sat down, setting his cane aside, clearly lord Poe was a man of good taste but also studious and methodical.
He reached out for a teacup before hesitating slightly mid-move then ,in a determined motion, grabbing the tea cup with his gloved hand. He poured himself a cup adding in a generous portion of honey and milk before giving it a taste.
It was a fine brew with little hints of tea's natural bitterness even without the later additives but life is meant to be enjoyed, what's the point of titles and fiefs if one is forced to drink bitter tea?
He looked around at the two figures beside him, appreciating one for her fine manners, frowning at the other. He certainly dressed like a man, rabble at that, but had this oddness to him that young lord Blackmore could not figure out. The man's fidgeting also suggested a less than righteous upbringing or profession as it is typical for their kind.
Thus he subtly shifted in his seat to steer himself away from the latter
The scion of Blackmore listened to Lady Nightingale's words with curiosity, wandering where he had heard such a name before until "Latimer" came up.
He spoke after she had finished for it was improper to interrupt a lady, well ex-lady:
"My condolences about your father, A true shame what happened to him. Lord Edward Blackmore, of Haydon. I presume my father's letter has found you in good health my Lord Poe."
He spoke in the controlled tone of high society but had a certain stiffness in his voice, an unfamiliarity.
"This establishment is truly fortunate have a man of your caliber as its head" continued the man with a courteous smile. "As for my ability It is to hold dominion over ice and snow." Before lifting a finger and manifesting a small feather of crystalline ice with all its aspects rendered in meticulous detail from barb to vane.
This was more addressed to the two figures in the room as his father had surely already explained his blessing or "abnormally" (in that bore's words) to the headmaster but one never knows.
This looks neat, i wonder if there is a spot for another villain character? had idea for Morgan Lefay as an enchantress character who would use various curses, geas and other to take over the city.
Arthur Dyad Vorlein
Titles: Sword Demon of Durnatel
Age: 49
Appearance:
imgur.com/a/Ojwvq6r
Currently the swordsmen is disguised as another dressed exclusively in various shades of purple and golden ornaments. His long hair dyed dark blue and loosely tied with a strip of white cloth.
His famed sword rebound with a gold and blue sheath colored by crushed lapis power.
imgur.com/a/GP0URg2
(Usually looks like this with longer hair)
Race:Blightborn
Blight-Born Traits:
Perhaps due to his pre-existent strength at the time of transformation Arthur’s blighted form is enormously powerful even amongst his kind, possessing enormous strength and speed combined with lightning quick reactions . Extreme regenerative factors make him capable of regrowing an entire limb in a matter of days to weeks while finding the limb and simply re-attaching the limb can make it functional again in a matter of hours.
However his defiance of heaven has not gone unnoticed, Arthur is prone to ravenous hunger for living blood and flesh, the succulent taste of muscle, the rich flavor of human organs.
In addition to his extreme weakness to the sun’s rays, wounds inflicted by the magic of Aelios take far longer to heal than ordinary wounds. A limb severed by a sun enchanted sword takes weeks to months to regrow.
Hallowed ground triggers a rejection effect upon him, preventing entry. Should it be forced Arthur’s power would be greatly weakened both in speed or strength.
Kingdom:
Lunaris (pretends to be aurelian)
Role:
Scout
Magic:
“Qi or Battle Spirit”: A specialized form of wind magic which uses one’s own body as a channel and catalyst, shrouding it in an invisible layer of compressed wind. A versatile technique which may be used for both offense and defense.
It provides passive enhancement to the user’s speed and strength, making him ignore the effects of air resistance aswell as providing cushioning or deflection effects against incoming strikes such as arrows.
This form of magic may be used offensively by expanding the wind layer to generate great shockwaves to either strike or give oneself a temporary “boost” akin to a jet system.
“NIght Swordsmanship”: Greatest art and true inheritance of a dear master, culminating multiple lifetimes of labour. A style fitting for the dangerous world of bushinhood.
Interweaving dark, wind magic and illusion magic, it regroups a multitude of techniques allowing practitioners of this style to project a dense dark fog hiding themselves from sight, mask their blade in dark shadows and illusion, Enhance the cutting power and speed of their blades, send out ranged slashes of both shadow and wind, locate nearby foes by the motion of air currents and so on.
The pinnacle of the style is demonstrated in 14 ultimate techniques: each cut a dance of light and shadow, illusion or reality.
Employing all 3 in combination to create illusions of radiant moonlight and crescent shaped blades serving as distractions while shrouding one’s blade in shadow and wind. Accelerating to its limits to deliver devastating strikes sundering all before while launching multiple air slashes with each cut. Making every technique incredibly dangerous.
"Short" Bio:
“The pure blade cuts sharper than any other.”
Young Arthur was born the youngest of 4 children around the border of the two kingdoms to a humble farming family, life was harsh but the people were close knit. They farmed during summer, extracting from the land whatever they could and hunted during winter.
Occasionally Aurelian raiders would come by but they would flee into the mountains before returning to rebuild.
Even from a young age arthur was a quarrelsome one, always feuding with some other youth over some pointless things like a stick or even a loaf of bread.
Occasionally the radiant knights of Seluna would come through to plunge deep into Aurelia, their radiant armors imprinting deep into his mind.
He would dream to join them but fate would have different plans for the future sword demon.
When he turned 10 a particularly bad raid burned their village’s winter supply hoard hidden below the local chapel, when the village threatened to starve his parents revealed to him the existence of a private stash far in the woods with enough supplies to last their family until next spring or even further.
That night, he and his older sister Alune were taken into the woods and never seen from again but they were not alone, many children disappeared during that winter, sometimes older women vanished too. The adults claimed that fairies had ferried them away but no one has seen a fairy since.
The two children would struggle for days before Alune finally expired from the cold and frost, giving what little she had to Arthur. He would stumble in the dark forest begging seluna for guidance until stumbling upon the remains of a campfire over which still hung a cauldron of half eaten stew. Starved and exhausted, the kid didn't care anymore as he devoured the stew before falling sleep by the fire.
When the future wanderer awoke again he was met with a stern man many times scarred sitting on a fallen log as a deer cooked upon a roaring flame. The fierce youth apologized profusely with his conduct last night yet the man said nothing, Arthur begged the stranger to take him wherever he was as long as it was away from here. Still the man said nothing, only hacking off a chunk of meat and tossing it to the kid. “Eat” he would say in a gruff voice.
After which the strong man gestured at the log he was sitting on, making a chopping motion. Arthur understood but frowned when the man only tossed him a strange singled-edge sword. That was no wood cutting tool but a weapon of war. How was he supposed to cut such a thick log with that? When he looked at his savior, he met only closed eyes and a man asleep.
Thus Arthur went to work but made little progress, the blade was sharp sinking deep into the log with each strike but he struggled fiercely to pull it out. After hours he had only cut a small pile of firewood. The huge man look at his struggles and laughed slightly before slicing the thick log in a casual cut.
The next day Arthur awoke to strange whistling noises at early dawn, when he came out to investigate he saw his savior dual wielding two swords similar to the one he was given yesterday but one large beyond his imagination. The man moved nimbly across the snowy forest cutting down trees left and right in radiant bursts of moonlight. When the swordsman noticed Arthur he simply tossed him his smaller blade and gestured for him to come.
Eventually the kid asked his savior what he was and in his typical fashion the man responded with: “Bushin”, meaning “Path seeker” or simply “Seeker”
Later the young man would learn that Bushins were religious warrior monks belonging to an ancient religious cult known as the Parallax Ascetic Order.
They regrouped men and women tired of the constant state of war and seeking a way for mankind to rise above their condition.Most members would spend decades in seclusion or travel.Seeking the elevation of their mind through deep meditation, Seeking perfection in the martial arts and so on. Believing that if one amongst their order achieves ascension, they may stand as a shining pillar of humanity which will go on to inspire countless more.
Over time the two would become inseparable like father and son. The man named Zornhau was a fierce warrior known as the sword saint of Eladia. Having emerged from seclusion decades ago and carving a bloody swath across northern Lunaris by way of 12 sacred techniques. Countless men fell under his blade in his quest for supremacy both common and noble until a mage cursed him to eternal silence. Making him unable to both speak and write so that his art dies with him. Each word the man wrote would fade away and each time he spoke it was at the cost of paralyzing agony.
The two travelled together all over lunaria, the younger acting as the older’s mouthpiece, learning to interpret his strange hand signals into words. Vorlein’s natural talent for swordsmanship made Zornhau see hope for the first time after his curse. He would teach Arthur all aspects of his craft through intense practice and a few words squeezed out here and there, noted down by the latter on a tome called the treatise of moonlight.
Zornhau died aged 82 after being struck by a poisoned needle when the pair were near Tamerai when they were beset upon by mountain bandits too well trained for such rabble. The father son duo fought them off but it was too late. The poison used was known as the Eightbound Heart Lock, a rare and expensive kind which corrupts the blood and was hard to heal even for skilled healers, not counting they where in lunaris, a nation not known for their restorative prowess.
In his dying breath Grandmaster Zornhau transmitted his final wishes to Arthur: To fulfill what he never could: Seek ascension, walk his own path.
Arthur would leave Lunaris a year after his master’s death, inheriting his famed monoshinzhao and katana, magnus opus of Zornhau’s fallen brother: Krumpau.
Two Enchanted blades both lightweight and strong, never dulling or breaking no matter how much they were used.
In the following decades Arthur wandered around Aurelia blade in hand, seeking the meaning of his master’s last words. He went to the free city of Xarlara where he earned a reputation as a fierce sellsword who never backed down from a fight.
Spending all his pay in fine clothes, food or women before going out to search for employment again.
There he would expand his master’s moonlight techniques to 14
Like many of his kin, the blightborn’s appearance would prove an opportunity as there was good pay to be made exterminating those demons. Travelling across the border to Durnatel he would participate in many quelling operations against the blight either independently with bounty hunter teams or as part of military expeditions.
But no matter how much they hunted the blight’s progression could not be stopped, villages close to it fell, its inhabitants either died or were reborn as those… things which turned on their fellow men.
Arthur died five years after the blight’s first appearance aged 44. In the months preceding there had been tales of a great beast around Gevaudan, a town near durantel. A Monstrosity so strong no hunter could defeat, a creature with eight heads and eight legs it was said who spat acid or flame.
A large reward was placed upon it leading to a large-scale blight suppression attempt undertaken by multiple mercenary teams which later became known as the disaster of Gevaudan.
Vorlein was amongst the first teams to encounter the beast at the edge of the blight around the village of Genoese. In truth, the reports were beyond exaggerated, the creature was no mere beast but rather a man. Heavily corrupted by the blight with his flesh twisted into horrid distortions. Maws scattered across its body while flailing tentacles surrounded its frame.
Its frame having grown to twice the size and many times the thickness of even the biggest man Arthur ever knew.
Upon seeing the hunting party The Best of Gevaudan fell upon them with a blighted fury few could match instantly killing 2 before they could even draw their weapons so fast it was. Those who remained fought with all their might yet it no harm was done for the monster could not be slain. Every wound inflicted on it healed in moments, before long only Arthur was left. He channeled the true moon strikes one after the other to suppress the creature.
The two clashed from first night into true night: two swords under heaven against piercing tendrils until at last exhaustion took him. The creature’s tendrils pierced his flesh multiple times and left him to bleed out upon blighted soil.
As the wanderer lay dying, he laughed, a hearty laugh to end it all, even as the blood choked his lungs Vorlein did not stop. For at that moment, he understood purity, ironic isn't it. Didnt matter, he was weak and the weak died. Such was the way of the wanderer.
He thought the beast would devour him as it is common for these creatures but the strangest of things happened next.
The monster would look upon his broken body and spoke: A single word from a dozen cavernous maws as the roar of waves upon rocky shores: Bushin. Before leaving into the blight.
When Arthur awoke again he felt.. different, changed but he cared not. What if he became a monster? For his path, what's 20 years devoted to the sword? Now with deathless flesh even a hundred years would be a meagre price.
When the others found the remains of his expedition force they came face to face with the lone swordsmen now fully changed by the blight, thorn clothing exposing pallid, scarless flesh.
They charged fourth intending to give their comrade a dignified death but Vorlein slew them all without mercy, devouring their succulent flesh one bite at a time.
For the blight was no curse, no,but rather a Blessing given to the worthy. The brave few who would not go quiet into the old night so what right did the weak have in robbing them of that?
Soon, tales of a sword demon began to spread around western lunaris near the blight touched areas. A pale monster who reaped the lives of men as easily as grass, to those it would spare the beast would leave crippled. Hunting parties were sent out to slay the creature but these returned either crippled or vanished from the earth.
The beast would appear and disappear as it pleased, reaching as far south as Aurelia and as far north as Durnatel. No one knew what its true goals are but to him it didn't matter.
When the sun extinguished itself and dawnhaven was founded, Arthur Dyad Vorlein decided to go seeking refuge as tales of a sword demon already spread far and wide in lunaris, drawing in all manners of hunters. He made too many enemies in his pursuit of excellence and now needed safe harbor to digest his many findings obtained from travel and ponder upon the nature of blight.
Misc:
-To make entrance into Dawnheaven Easier Arthur has disguised himself as an Aurelian wanderer named Cull Farrion of Xalara.
-Despite what rumors say He is no butcher, but rather a man living with a code in spite of societal discrimination towards his kind. To any asking He would speak reason, should they refused to hear it only then would Arthur use violence.
“To return like with like” he would say.
To those seeking him as prey he kills without mercy. Should foes lack conviction yet insist on challenging him the wanderer would take a “blood toll” usually consisting of a finger and tell them to stop seeking him for the next time shall be their deaths.
-unlike most blight born who only drinks blood, this one has developed a taste for human flesh especially the heart which he finds tastiest, usually eating them either raw or prepared in a dish of some sort.
An art of which he is no slouch in.
-He knows quite a few non magical healing methods, a necessity from his days of travel.
Titles: Sword Demon of Durnatel
Age: 49
Appearance:
imgur.com/a/Ojwvq6r
Currently the swordsmen is disguised as another dressed exclusively in various shades of purple and golden ornaments. His long hair dyed dark blue and loosely tied with a strip of white cloth.
His famed sword rebound with a gold and blue sheath colored by crushed lapis power.
imgur.com/a/GP0URg2
(Usually looks like this with longer hair)
Race:Blightborn
Blight-Born Traits:
Perhaps due to his pre-existent strength at the time of transformation Arthur’s blighted form is enormously powerful even amongst his kind, possessing enormous strength and speed combined with lightning quick reactions . Extreme regenerative factors make him capable of regrowing an entire limb in a matter of days to weeks while finding the limb and simply re-attaching the limb can make it functional again in a matter of hours.
However his defiance of heaven has not gone unnoticed, Arthur is prone to ravenous hunger for living blood and flesh, the succulent taste of muscle, the rich flavor of human organs.
In addition to his extreme weakness to the sun’s rays, wounds inflicted by the magic of Aelios take far longer to heal than ordinary wounds. A limb severed by a sun enchanted sword takes weeks to months to regrow.
Hallowed ground triggers a rejection effect upon him, preventing entry. Should it be forced Arthur’s power would be greatly weakened both in speed or strength.
Kingdom:
Lunaris (pretends to be aurelian)
Role:
Scout
Magic:
“Qi or Battle Spirit”: A specialized form of wind magic which uses one’s own body as a channel and catalyst, shrouding it in an invisible layer of compressed wind. A versatile technique which may be used for both offense and defense.
It provides passive enhancement to the user’s speed and strength, making him ignore the effects of air resistance aswell as providing cushioning or deflection effects against incoming strikes such as arrows.
This form of magic may be used offensively by expanding the wind layer to generate great shockwaves to either strike or give oneself a temporary “boost” akin to a jet system.
“NIght Swordsmanship”: Greatest art and true inheritance of a dear master, culminating multiple lifetimes of labour. A style fitting for the dangerous world of bushinhood.
Interweaving dark, wind magic and illusion magic, it regroups a multitude of techniques allowing practitioners of this style to project a dense dark fog hiding themselves from sight, mask their blade in dark shadows and illusion, Enhance the cutting power and speed of their blades, send out ranged slashes of both shadow and wind, locate nearby foes by the motion of air currents and so on.
The pinnacle of the style is demonstrated in 14 ultimate techniques: each cut a dance of light and shadow, illusion or reality.
Employing all 3 in combination to create illusions of radiant moonlight and crescent shaped blades serving as distractions while shrouding one’s blade in shadow and wind. Accelerating to its limits to deliver devastating strikes sundering all before while launching multiple air slashes with each cut. Making every technique incredibly dangerous.
"Short" Bio:
“The pure blade cuts sharper than any other.”
Young Arthur was born the youngest of 4 children around the border of the two kingdoms to a humble farming family, life was harsh but the people were close knit. They farmed during summer, extracting from the land whatever they could and hunted during winter.
Occasionally Aurelian raiders would come by but they would flee into the mountains before returning to rebuild.
Even from a young age arthur was a quarrelsome one, always feuding with some other youth over some pointless things like a stick or even a loaf of bread.
Occasionally the radiant knights of Seluna would come through to plunge deep into Aurelia, their radiant armors imprinting deep into his mind.
He would dream to join them but fate would have different plans for the future sword demon.
When he turned 10 a particularly bad raid burned their village’s winter supply hoard hidden below the local chapel, when the village threatened to starve his parents revealed to him the existence of a private stash far in the woods with enough supplies to last their family until next spring or even further.
That night, he and his older sister Alune were taken into the woods and never seen from again but they were not alone, many children disappeared during that winter, sometimes older women vanished too. The adults claimed that fairies had ferried them away but no one has seen a fairy since.
The two children would struggle for days before Alune finally expired from the cold and frost, giving what little she had to Arthur. He would stumble in the dark forest begging seluna for guidance until stumbling upon the remains of a campfire over which still hung a cauldron of half eaten stew. Starved and exhausted, the kid didn't care anymore as he devoured the stew before falling sleep by the fire.
When the future wanderer awoke again he was met with a stern man many times scarred sitting on a fallen log as a deer cooked upon a roaring flame. The fierce youth apologized profusely with his conduct last night yet the man said nothing, Arthur begged the stranger to take him wherever he was as long as it was away from here. Still the man said nothing, only hacking off a chunk of meat and tossing it to the kid. “Eat” he would say in a gruff voice.
After which the strong man gestured at the log he was sitting on, making a chopping motion. Arthur understood but frowned when the man only tossed him a strange singled-edge sword. That was no wood cutting tool but a weapon of war. How was he supposed to cut such a thick log with that? When he looked at his savior, he met only closed eyes and a man asleep.
Thus Arthur went to work but made little progress, the blade was sharp sinking deep into the log with each strike but he struggled fiercely to pull it out. After hours he had only cut a small pile of firewood. The huge man look at his struggles and laughed slightly before slicing the thick log in a casual cut.
The next day Arthur awoke to strange whistling noises at early dawn, when he came out to investigate he saw his savior dual wielding two swords similar to the one he was given yesterday but one large beyond his imagination. The man moved nimbly across the snowy forest cutting down trees left and right in radiant bursts of moonlight. When the swordsman noticed Arthur he simply tossed him his smaller blade and gestured for him to come.
Eventually the kid asked his savior what he was and in his typical fashion the man responded with: “Bushin”, meaning “Path seeker” or simply “Seeker”
Later the young man would learn that Bushins were religious warrior monks belonging to an ancient religious cult known as the Parallax Ascetic Order.
They regrouped men and women tired of the constant state of war and seeking a way for mankind to rise above their condition.Most members would spend decades in seclusion or travel.Seeking the elevation of their mind through deep meditation, Seeking perfection in the martial arts and so on. Believing that if one amongst their order achieves ascension, they may stand as a shining pillar of humanity which will go on to inspire countless more.
Over time the two would become inseparable like father and son. The man named Zornhau was a fierce warrior known as the sword saint of Eladia. Having emerged from seclusion decades ago and carving a bloody swath across northern Lunaris by way of 12 sacred techniques. Countless men fell under his blade in his quest for supremacy both common and noble until a mage cursed him to eternal silence. Making him unable to both speak and write so that his art dies with him. Each word the man wrote would fade away and each time he spoke it was at the cost of paralyzing agony.
The two travelled together all over lunaria, the younger acting as the older’s mouthpiece, learning to interpret his strange hand signals into words. Vorlein’s natural talent for swordsmanship made Zornhau see hope for the first time after his curse. He would teach Arthur all aspects of his craft through intense practice and a few words squeezed out here and there, noted down by the latter on a tome called the treatise of moonlight.
Zornhau died aged 82 after being struck by a poisoned needle when the pair were near Tamerai when they were beset upon by mountain bandits too well trained for such rabble. The father son duo fought them off but it was too late. The poison used was known as the Eightbound Heart Lock, a rare and expensive kind which corrupts the blood and was hard to heal even for skilled healers, not counting they where in lunaris, a nation not known for their restorative prowess.
In his dying breath Grandmaster Zornhau transmitted his final wishes to Arthur: To fulfill what he never could: Seek ascension, walk his own path.
Arthur would leave Lunaris a year after his master’s death, inheriting his famed monoshinzhao and katana, magnus opus of Zornhau’s fallen brother: Krumpau.
Two Enchanted blades both lightweight and strong, never dulling or breaking no matter how much they were used.
In the following decades Arthur wandered around Aurelia blade in hand, seeking the meaning of his master’s last words. He went to the free city of Xarlara where he earned a reputation as a fierce sellsword who never backed down from a fight.
Spending all his pay in fine clothes, food or women before going out to search for employment again.
There he would expand his master’s moonlight techniques to 14
Like many of his kin, the blightborn’s appearance would prove an opportunity as there was good pay to be made exterminating those demons. Travelling across the border to Durnatel he would participate in many quelling operations against the blight either independently with bounty hunter teams or as part of military expeditions.
But no matter how much they hunted the blight’s progression could not be stopped, villages close to it fell, its inhabitants either died or were reborn as those… things which turned on their fellow men.
Arthur died five years after the blight’s first appearance aged 44. In the months preceding there had been tales of a great beast around Gevaudan, a town near durantel. A Monstrosity so strong no hunter could defeat, a creature with eight heads and eight legs it was said who spat acid or flame.
A large reward was placed upon it leading to a large-scale blight suppression attempt undertaken by multiple mercenary teams which later became known as the disaster of Gevaudan.
Vorlein was amongst the first teams to encounter the beast at the edge of the blight around the village of Genoese. In truth, the reports were beyond exaggerated, the creature was no mere beast but rather a man. Heavily corrupted by the blight with his flesh twisted into horrid distortions. Maws scattered across its body while flailing tentacles surrounded its frame.
Its frame having grown to twice the size and many times the thickness of even the biggest man Arthur ever knew.
Upon seeing the hunting party The Best of Gevaudan fell upon them with a blighted fury few could match instantly killing 2 before they could even draw their weapons so fast it was. Those who remained fought with all their might yet it no harm was done for the monster could not be slain. Every wound inflicted on it healed in moments, before long only Arthur was left. He channeled the true moon strikes one after the other to suppress the creature.
The two clashed from first night into true night: two swords under heaven against piercing tendrils until at last exhaustion took him. The creature’s tendrils pierced his flesh multiple times and left him to bleed out upon blighted soil.
As the wanderer lay dying, he laughed, a hearty laugh to end it all, even as the blood choked his lungs Vorlein did not stop. For at that moment, he understood purity, ironic isn't it. Didnt matter, he was weak and the weak died. Such was the way of the wanderer.
He thought the beast would devour him as it is common for these creatures but the strangest of things happened next.
The monster would look upon his broken body and spoke: A single word from a dozen cavernous maws as the roar of waves upon rocky shores: Bushin. Before leaving into the blight.
When Arthur awoke again he felt.. different, changed but he cared not. What if he became a monster? For his path, what's 20 years devoted to the sword? Now with deathless flesh even a hundred years would be a meagre price.
When the others found the remains of his expedition force they came face to face with the lone swordsmen now fully changed by the blight, thorn clothing exposing pallid, scarless flesh.
They charged fourth intending to give their comrade a dignified death but Vorlein slew them all without mercy, devouring their succulent flesh one bite at a time.
For the blight was no curse, no,but rather a Blessing given to the worthy. The brave few who would not go quiet into the old night so what right did the weak have in robbing them of that?
Soon, tales of a sword demon began to spread around western lunaris near the blight touched areas. A pale monster who reaped the lives of men as easily as grass, to those it would spare the beast would leave crippled. Hunting parties were sent out to slay the creature but these returned either crippled or vanished from the earth.
The beast would appear and disappear as it pleased, reaching as far south as Aurelia and as far north as Durnatel. No one knew what its true goals are but to him it didn't matter.
When the sun extinguished itself and dawnhaven was founded, Arthur Dyad Vorlein decided to go seeking refuge as tales of a sword demon already spread far and wide in lunaris, drawing in all manners of hunters. He made too many enemies in his pursuit of excellence and now needed safe harbor to digest his many findings obtained from travel and ponder upon the nature of blight.
Misc:
-To make entrance into Dawnheaven Easier Arthur has disguised himself as an Aurelian wanderer named Cull Farrion of Xalara.
-Despite what rumors say He is no butcher, but rather a man living with a code in spite of societal discrimination towards his kind. To any asking He would speak reason, should they refused to hear it only then would Arthur use violence.
“To return like with like” he would say.
To those seeking him as prey he kills without mercy. Should foes lack conviction yet insist on challenging him the wanderer would take a “blood toll” usually consisting of a finger and tell them to stop seeking him for the next time shall be their deaths.
-unlike most blight born who only drinks blood, this one has developed a taste for human flesh especially the heart which he finds tastiest, usually eating them either raw or prepared in a dish of some sort.
An art of which he is no slouch in.
-He knows quite a few non magical healing methods, a necessity from his days of travel.
The young earl emerged from his four horse coach at the main entrance followed by his valet dressed an elegant black attire, contrasting heavily with Edward's entirely white and silver appearance. The pair moved through the inner courtyard where a few students stared curiously at the odd duo, for this was late morning thus most students where presumed to be in class. As they walked Edward gazed upon the halls surrounding them in appreciation for his father had made this establishment seem far worse than it was. A place for freaks and monsters not men of their status, but seeing the architecture made him adopt a view of careful optimism.
Upon arriving at the main gates He hesitated at the metallic door knockers before gritting his teeth and approaching his gloved hand. Feeling noting he gave a firm knock and waited.
It would not be long until a servant opened for him, when Edward indicated he had an appointment with lord Poe the man simply gestured to follow before leading him through a series or ornate halls and rooms. Occasionally giving quips on the statue of notable individuals or school history.
The young earl knew some of them of course but most of it was news to him. Thus he gave appreciative nods here and there while continuing towards the Headmaster's office.
They would continue for a few minutes past another courtyard before finally reaching a door more elaborate than the rest wherein lies a simple brass plaque indicating its purpose and owner.
The presumed servant opened the door:
"Lord Poe awaits gentlemen"
Edward Blackmore stepped inside the room while his valet remained outside.
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