Vahir

Demon Sunrise

The problem seems to be with RPG, when I click view image I can see the map even if both our links are broken

Demon Sunrise

Pretty sure this time it should be visible.

map

Demon Sunrise

My map... It's been made outdated...



On a more serious note, where is your faction located? What's your relationship with demons and the Diadochi? These are things you should probably talk about to integrate yourself into this world.

Demon Sunrise

Dawn rose on Mendolos. A hundred and fifty kilometres north of the Spire, sitting on the Karell River which flowed in the direction of the Diadochi principalities, it was there that the Kings of Ingria ruled, who were the mightiest among the lords of the Galan League. Though publicly swearing fielty to the Tower and it's Lady, the kings of Ingria, as well as the other noblemen of the League, had for millenia ruled themselves, waging petty wars between each other. Ingria had been founded as a splinter of the greater Coldomoran Empire nearly seven hundred years ago, when its lands were split among the monarch's sons. Since then, the royal lands had waxed and waned, as king succeeded king.
Ludveck the Bald was the the latest scion of this line, a fat man who hated the mocking name some courtiers called him to his back. Leaning on the parapets of his castle, he could see a magnificent view of his lands, though that did little to ease his displeasure that morning.

"That damned tremor ruined a fine morning," he grumbled miserably.

"Not so bad as that," Count Berin interjected. "True, there were deaths and damage, but we should be able to put everything back into order shortly."

"I'm not talking about a few damned peasant huts or their dirt-farming occupants," the King replied glumly, "I'm referring to the inordinate our at which it woke me."

"We are all as distressed as you, sire," an approaching voice said amiably. "We live only for your pleasure, and your happiness and misery are ours as well."

"Pendrys!" the king exclaimed , turning around to see his good friend. "This is a blessed day, that you have returned. I thought the damned barons would keep you forever."

"They were friendly and servile, my lord. None of your subjects would dream risk your wrath."

Pendrys of Lagos was the King's steward, and the finest mind in the kingdom. They had been raised together since boyhood, and though he was of low birth, King Ludveck considered the man his brother. Since assuming the throne, he had showered Pendrys with titles- and his stewad had reciprocated. With his sereen, unthreatening demeanor, he was the perfect diplomat to take care of troublesome nobility or an agressive neighbour. It was in no small part due to him that the King was able to live the life of luxury he did.

"I assume that you returned early for good reason," Count Berin interrupted coldly. Ludveck gave the man a look of irritation. Berin was a loyal vassal and an excellent captain of war, but his thinly veiled hostility towards Pendrys often spent what little patience Ludveck had.

"Of course," Pendrys replied with his usual smile and air of nonchalance. "I have received word from some of my, ah, informants within the northern lands. They tell me that the Diadochi have abandoned their palaces and treasure hordes, and left for Dis, taking their hosts with them. This strikes me as an opportunity to increase the greatness of His Majesty's holdings."

"They've left their lands defenseless? Are you certain of this?" the King asked excitedly. He had been waiting for an opportunity such as this for years, a chance to seize some glory, and a great deal of wealth, from those magical fiends.

"Hold on," the Count said. "We need to verify this before doing anything. Much as Your Majesty might trust this... steward, many of your vassals will refuse to commit themselves to rash action at his word alone. And besides, we cannot act in this without consulting the Oracle."

"Your Grace, the Oracle is not the King of Ingria," Pendrys declared. "You are. These lands do not belong to the Spire, they belong to you and you alone. This is the perfect time to strike. We need not even wage a full campaign- send out the venerable Count here to pillage choice lands near the border. Solenia, Verif, Adollivar, these are wealthy towns that nevertheless are quite unprepared for any kind of hostilities. We need only sack them, and wait.

"If the Diadochi truly have retreated, they will do nothing, and we will be able to continue northwards seizing lands in your name. Otherwise, we can simply claim innocence regarding the deed, and when they strike back we can claim to be cruelly and unjustly attacked, thereby uniting then other Galan lands behind us."

Thus, Count Berin and two hundred horsemen depared from Mendelos marching along the Karell, with the orders to sack all Diadochi lands they found, and to burn what they could not take with them. After making the arrangements and dealing with the King's anxieties, Pendrys retreated to his chambers. Locking the door, he pushed aside a bookcase, revealing a tunnel into the walls. Within lied his shrine to his Mother, the Dark One.

"Mother," he gasped, falling to his knees before an icon in her likeness. "Mother, they do as I say, and I do as you say, so they do as you say. Mother, nobody will stop you, I won't let them. Oh, dear mother, I will ruin that wretched tower, and those foul Diadochi cities, and best of all, I'll have them tear each other apart. Isn't that magnificent, mother?

"Have faith in me, Mother. I'll have them kill each other, and then you can fill this land with beautiful darkness."

Demon Sunrise

So I made this map, because I'm tired of trying to guess where everything is. What think?

http://s28.postimg.org/bk116l0a3/Demon_Planes_Map.png

Demon Sunrise

Smoke and screams filled the air in equal measure, and despite the darkness of the night, a blinding light was emited from the inferno below. At first the Oracle believed himself to be in one of the hells that barbarians believed sinners were condemned to. After a moment, however, he saw the Spire, shinning bright from Eyrn's light. Around it stood Menderyn, the Lady's City, which had stood for ten thousand years, yet now burned. The cries he heard were of the townsfolk, being hunted down and killed, or worse yet, taken alive. The great bells of the Cathedral rang out desperately, as if to cry for aid from any who would hear.

He could also see the Knights of the Tower. He watched as they were overwhelmed on the walls, how they still fought a retreat and cut their way to the Spire, where they made one last stand. They fought bravely, they fought valiantly, they fought like men possessed, yet they were only men, and one by one they died, until their order was wiped away. The Iron Gates halted the advance of the Enemy for a moment, but they brought forth in short order mages who tore the barrier apart, and then they swarmed into the holy tower, defiling it with their presence and slaying any who were within. He watched in horror and agony as Eyrn's light was extinguished, and all hope within him was lost.
The Spire, which had stood since before time was recorded, began to sway, and the base cracked and collapsed, causing a thunder which could be heard half a continent away. The Spire fell, slowly at first, yet gaining momentum, it crashed into the flaming ruins of Mendeyrn. The resulting shock wave smashed the rest of the city, and he knew that none inside the city, his people or not, had survived.

With a start, the Oracle awoke, screaming, his heart beating faster than it had in years. After a moment he composed himself, his head in agony as it always was when he felt the Lady's touch. He knew that this was no ordinary dream. His connection to Eyrn allowed him to see what visions she received concerning the past, present and future, and there was no doubt in him concerning this: she had foreseen her own death... and the end of the world.

When the pain ceased, he rose from his bed and dressed, despite the early hour- though his blindness prevented him from looking out the window, he knew by the silence that it was still dark. He didn't worry of having caused a commotion by his rude awakening. Those servants within the Spire were used to these kinds of disturbances, and in any case the entire floor was reserved for his use, as befitted his post. Descending the stairs at his inhuman age was a lesson in agony, but one he was quite familiar with, and he had no time for the weakness of the body. When he reached the floor below, he opened the door weakly, barely able to move.

"Summon the Knight-Commander", he managed to gasp out at the stunned Knights standing guard at the library. He heard one of them hurry down the stairs to fetch Sir Rillian, while the other carried him to a comfortable chair. He knew exactly which chair he was sitting on, as he had come here so often when he still had sight that he had memorized every corner of it. It was the greatest library of its kind in the world, apart from those of the great magocracies of the Diadochi. He often came here for this very reason, after having received a vision from Eyrn, trying to determine whether whatever ill fate he had perceived could be prevented. Perhaps there is still hope, he thought. Perhaps the Lady showed me this to prevent this cataclysm from occuring.

"What is it?" he heard the voice of the Knight Commander ask, audibly tired, "have you had a vision from the Lady?"

"Alas," he murmured, and told Sir Rillian of what he had seen.

"Is this certain? Can it prevented?" the commander asked. Though he was a good man and loyal, his relatively young age- Only thirty-eight- meant that he had little experience in matters beyond warfare. The Oracle missed the old Knight-Commander, a friend of his and a wiser man than most other men of war, yet the Lady had chosen Sir Rillian as the Knight most capable of leading her armies, and so it was not his place to judge.

"It may," the Oracle answered, raising his head. "We must try."

Demon Sunrise

A dead-but-kind-of-not-dead person inhabiting a tower.

My inspiration, if you know much about Warhammer 40k, is the Emperor on the Golden Throne. He's still a person, but he's kind of an inanimate object.

Edit: Or is this RP full? If so I might as well not continue writing my application.

Demon Sunrise

Hero: Eyrn, The Lady of the Tower

"Appearance"

To say Eyrn is a tower is a gross simplification, but it is one that is often made. After her death in life, and her burial by her followers in the Spire, her spirit took residence in the structure, making it sometimes hard to distinguish the two. She has no physical form beyond the Spire, though a special few have claimed to have seen apparitions of her within her sanctuary, usually with her giving prophetic warnings.

"History"

Ten thousand years ago, there was a war, one which shook the skies and smashed the earth. The Empire of Merciful Dark, led by the horrific demon Mother Night, conquered civilization after civilization, subjugating them for its dark god. The mage-lords of the Diadochi were united against this threat, unleashing their awe-inspiring powers to their foes. It was at this time that Eyrn was conceived, the child of one of the warring Diadochi Lords. She was left to be raised by the Galans, a confederation of barbarian tribes aligned with the Diadochi against the common foe. The war had by then been dragging on for millennia, and was a life-or-death struggle for its participants. The eye of the Empire turned against the Galan Confederation when Eyrn was twenty-four. The Diadochi offered no assistance, accepting the loss of the Confederation as a calculated sacrifice in their grand plans. Without aid, the confederation stood no chance, and despite valiant resistance they were gradually being wiped out.

In their most desperate hour, Eyrn emerged among them to lead their armies. At first many derided her growing position and influence, declaring that a woman had no place leading the brave Galan warriors. Yet Eyrn was no mere commoner, with the blood of the ancient magi flowing in her veins, and her power was in many ways greater to her forebears, though how this was is unkown. Wielding holy fire, she led an army of her countrymen against the Enemy. Great though her might was, it was insufficient against the hordes arrayed against her. In the Battle of Isha, after being seperated by her devoted entourage in the heat of combat, she was finally overwhelmed and slain by Mother Night's unholy Champion after a brutal duel. The battle was lost, though her enraged and grief-stricken kinsmen were able to cut their way through the enemy ranks and carry her lifeless body away from the battlefield. All seemed lost for their people, who would be doomed to fade from history.

They interned her in the Spire, a tower of mythical proportions built by one of the Diadochi magisters who had been slain in the early days of the Great War. Though their lands burned around them, they carried her to the apex chamber, where they sealed her within a great golden coffin. Many commited suicide out of despair and grief. Some say that it was this fanatical devotion that caused what would come next, though others insist it was the combination of her magical blood and the inherit arcane powers running through the Spire. Regardless of the cause, she was reborn at that moment. Not physically, of course, but spiritually. In a sense, she became the Spire, and all within could feel her embrace, and rejoiced. By their worship, she became more powerful than she had been in life, and banished the forces of darkness from the surrounding lands.

It took over a hundred years to retake the traditional lands of her people. This was followed by centuries of peace. However, around 9450 years ago, discontent at her rule grew as overpopulation created poverty and plague struck the land. The nobility took advantage of this and led the people in rebellion against her, leading to the Wars of Apostasy. Mendeyrn was sieged and sacked, and though they could not breach the Spire, a period of anarchy followed in which Eyrn could only watch as her people decended into the abyss. She founded the Order of the Tower 9320 years ago, comprising of four thousand of the greatest, most pious knights available to her. They left the Spire and, led by the Oracle, restored order to the Galan lands. Once her tumultuous kindred were once again under her dominion, she re-organized her old empire into a new system. Having learned that direct intervention only made her an unpopular and an enemy of the nobility and the commoners alike, she withdrew from the mundane responsibilities of ruling, leaving the local nobility to rule themselves.

Instead, she imposed only her Three Tenets: Firstly, that any contortion of demons is forbidden and that it is the duty of every Galan to oppose those who do. Secondly, the Oracle, as representative of Eyrn, must be obeyed in all things. And finally, the spilling of blood in the hollowed Spire is strictly forbidden. She formed the Galan League, a loose alliance of all the Galan princes, dukes and kings, with herself as the titular head, though in practice they ruled independently of the Spire. As long as these lords follow her tenets, she allows them to do as they will, but should a nobleman stray from the righteous path, he would soon find himself targeted by the Knights of the Tower.

"Personality"

Eyrn is the Mother, and mankind are her children. Having died as a mortal, she now sees it as her role to guide and protect her people, particularly against the depredations of the Outer Planes. This should not be taken as to mean that she is soft or weak, however, as even before dying she had been first and foremost a war leader. Those who, through malice of foolishness, threaten the world find no mercy within her heart. As a ruler, she relies on the adoration of her subjects, rather than the whip that the Diadochi favor.

"Abilities"

Eyrn's most powerful abilities are indirect. Lesser demons and creatures of evil cannot approach the lands around her without suffering great pain, and only the mightiest of them could reach the Spire itself. Her influence also affects the country she resides in, which is pleasant and fertile, contrasting with the arid badlands around it. Harvests are more bountiful and the people more prosperous, making the region seem somewhat heavenly to stunned outsiders. Furthermore, though due to her lack of a physical form she cannot smite her enemies directly, she can imbue those who serve her with great power to wield in her name, and in times of great need, she can psychically speak to her enemies, the contact shattering their very souls. It is for this reason that she communicates directly only with a select few who can resist the ravages of her touch. It should be noted that these powers are proportional to the distance from the Spire; far-away lands are beyond her reach, while in the lands surrounding the Spire her powers are magnified exponentially.

In addition to these, she can see the entire world, though this is very taxing, only used when necessary. Her vision is not limited to the things that are, either. Prophecies and visions of the future sometimes come to her, though it is difficult for her to decipher whether these are things that might happen... or things that will happen. Finally, sher power is amplified through Harrowings, the ritual of human sacrifice completed by the ceremonial suicide of the old, the sick, and the desperate. This act is seen as the height of piety, and those who choose to take their own lives in this manner are revered as martyrs and heroes.

Secondary Hero: The Oracle

"Appearance"

The Oracle is old, older than any human has any right to be. It's visible, as well; his eyes are hollow and empty from his blindness, and he is so thin one would think him a skeleton. Etched on his face are his hundred-and-eighty-nine years of living, and he walks slumped, burdened by the unnatural tolls exacted on his body. When he speaks, his voice is faint, and he seems pained with every breath. One would think he was on his deathbed, had he not been in this state for the past century. On his forehead there is a scar, bright and easily visible, in the form of a tower, which burns red just as it did the day he received it.

"History"

Gilbert Carrenhey, formerly the Baron of Menes, was born in the small holding his family had held in their possession since time immoral, a mere tower in the vast forests of wheat. The eldest of four brothers and twice as many sisters, he became Baron at the early age of twenty-two after his father was slain by a rival lordling in a dispute over a stream. Thus was he dully launched into the world of politics of the Galan League, where a friend was only a friend the time it took to take out a knife and stab you in the back. For the next five years he lived much as any nobleman does, finding a wife from a family of suitable rank, from which sprung an heir, a spare, and the inevitable akward third. He quarreled with his neighbors over land, peasants and cattle, and served at the court of his King when called for. His was an unremarkable life, and he dreamed of being great, of being recognized, of being special to any other than the peasants under his heels.

At the age of twenty-six, he decided to journey to the Spire, as was custom for every nobleman within the League. Arriving at the colossal edifice, he was not struck with awe, as most others, but rather shrugged with indifference at the structure and the distant god that inhabited it. He intended only to climb to the apex, pray at the shrine, and then be able to boast of having done so to his peers. It took him hours to climb the tower, and when he reached the top he was exhausted. After pausing for a breath, he duly knelt at the Tomb of Eyrn and said the usual words, thanking the Lady for this and that, declaring his devotion to her Grace, and rose to commence the decent.

"You who are named Gilbert by fellow men," he heard behind him, "have been chosen."

Turning around, he felt his heart stop and his pupils dilate at the sight before him. A golden woman, the Lady- for who other would be so great?- stood before him, awesome and terrible. She smiled, and all seemed right in the world, all his worries gone. His head was exploding in agony, and he was bleeding from the ears, nose and mouth, yet none of that mattered, not when She was before him. The Lady touched his brow, and murmured: "I dub thee Oracle".

On that day, a hundred and sixty-three years ago, a man named Gilbert Carrenhey, Baron of Menes, climbed the Spire, and another, worn and torn and bloody, named only the Oracle, stumbled down the steps, a burning mark on his brow demonstrating his new identity.

"Personality"

Wise, kind, and knowing are word that can accurately describe the Oracle. So are depressed, morbid, and delorous. Over a century of agonizing servitude to a higher being, even a benevolent higher being, wears the soul to the bone. He goes about life with a kind of resigned fatalism, accepting every day as another trial he must pass.

"Abilities"

The Oracle has no abilities or powers of his own. All of his derive instead from Eyrn and, by extension, the Spire. Due to his connection to the Lady, he is made aware of the visions that come to her, and acts as an intermediary between her and the League. Despite his frailty, her protection prevents normal blows from hurting him, and he can mentally strike at his foes, as well as cast at the same level as a powerful mage.

The Spire

"Stronghold"

Type: The Spire is, obviously, a tower. When one speaks of the Spire, one also refers to the metropolis around it, a bustling city of some sixty thousand.
Location: It is located on the continent of Varyon, south-east of the Diadochi city states, on the band of fertile land between the lush coast and the arid interior.
Description: The Spire is, to state the obvious, tall. At a height of slightly over 800 stories, the fact that it stands at all is proof that it must have been constructed by elder beings in the time before history, as the legends say. Sitting on a sheer cliff, it reaches into the clouds, shrinking in diameter at around 500 floors before ending at the Apex, a great dome containing the Tomb of Eryn, a massive golden coffin containing the remains of what many believe to be a god. Despite standing since before time was recorded, the Spire appears as structurally sound and magnificent as it must have been when it was first erected. Similarly, despite being besieged in the past (many times, as it were, for not all appreciate the Lady or her followers), it has suffered no damage from either siege weapons or fire. If there are powers able to harm the Spire, they are unknown to mankind. The tower's entrance is guarded by massive doors of iron, a foot thick, which normally remain open night and day, but in times of crisis, they can be closed, at which point the attackers could pound on them with their fists, and it would accomplish the same as a battering ram.

Surrounding the Spire and the cliffs it sits on is the city referred to as Menderyn, though it is also referred to as the Spire by outsiders. With sixty thousand inhabitants, it is not the largest city in the Galan League, but it is certainly the most visited, as pilgrims from all over the League come to pay homage at the Tomb. Unlike those of the Spire, its walls were built by mere men, and are therefore destructible. Despite this, they remain formidable defenses, though perhaps neglected in recent years of peace. Smashed towers and crumbling walls elsewhere in the city stand testament to more turbulent times.

The Order of the Tower

"Faction"

Size: The Order of the Tower contains exactly 4 000 members.
Hierarchy and Culture: The four thousand knights are divided into ten four-hundred man regiments, which can and do operate on their own. These are further subdivided into ten fourty-man battalions. Though all knights are theoretically equal, each battalion is led by a Knight-Sergeant, elected by his peers to lead them. The Knight-Sergeants in turn elect and anser to the Knight-Lieutenant, responsible for the regiments. Finally, the Knight-Lieutenants are commanded by the Knight-Commander, chosen by the Oracle among the most worthy of their rank, who is second in command only to the former and the Lady herself within the Spire.
History: The Order was founded in the War of Apostasy, when those who saw Eyrn's rule as tyrannous rose up in rebellion. Mendeyrn was besieged, and while it withstood for nearly a month, finally the rebels assaulted the walls and sacked the city, as well as killing the Oracle of the time. After thirty years of anarchy and war, Eryn selected a new Oracle, and formed the Order as it exists now, a corps of four thousand of the greatest knights of the League, swearing fielty only to the Spire. They are blessed by her, giving them greater strength and endurance than other men, as well as ability in magic. Since then, they guard the Spire, and eradicate any who threaten the Lady.
Military:



Knights of the Tower, regardless of rank, all have the same armaments. Though traditionally equipped with sword and shield, they are expected to be master at many kinds of weapons. In battle, they typically form a shield wall to withstand an enemy charge, and then counterattack with enough zeal to cause the foe to flee. They are also adept mages, due to the blessing granted to them by the Lady, and as being a nobleman is a requisite for membership, they are all learned, with the mind beyond considered just as important an asset as the sword arm.

World in Revolution: 1920

Maaaaaaybe.

1. Canada
2. UK
3. Germany

Tabula Rasa MkI, the Quintessential Geopolitical Experiment

Hm, I've encountered a problem; the sea level in 4000BC Mesopotamia isn't the same as the modern era, the lands I chose were under water. Are we then working with modern sea levels, or the ones at the time period?

For that matter, do we follow real world climate and geography, or can we make up our own geography to avoid mountains of research on obscure topics?