Now, the RP won't be combat exclusive (though I imagine some of you might enjoy smashing mortals to bits). Instead, it will be focused on rivals between the demigods you will be playing as, and your actions as you emerge from The Pit, the prison where the Children were kept locked away. Sort of apocalyptic, in that I don't imagine most of the Children will be very happy with humanity or civilization.
Its heart is scholastic endeavor. Its hand is the twisting rites of the arcane. It is Therelon, Keeper of Knowledge and architect of the greatest enchantments the world has ever seen. Left alone to grand chamber at the top of its great Tower, save for the occasional visit by its Siblings or its Devoted, Therelon has long strived to unravel the secrets of the world. While interrupting it in the course of its study will draw its ire, it is not opposed to company by any means. Indeed, while it prefers to carry out its studies in complete solitude, it desperately craves companionship. When it addresses one of tis followers as “Child,” it does so not as a means of asserting its own superiority, but as a term of endearment; it sees those mortals who follow it as its Devoted Children. While it will not suffer those who would do harm to its Children to live, it does not grieve. Perhaps once the passing of those mortals it comes to care for might have caused it turmoil, but it has long since grown satisfied with holding fast to its precious memories.
Therelon, for all of its affection, does not look the part of a loving parent. While mannish in shape, it is covered in feathers that run the spectrum from dark blues to steely greys. Great wings, each two thirds as along as a man is tall, stretch from its back. Its fingers end in long, grey-blue claws, and its legs end in wicked, curves talons. Its head is crowned by a mane long feathers, stretching out over its neck. Beneath its mane rest, upon its long, sloping face, four eyes. The bottom two are always open, the top two are always closed. It all ends in the long, abruptly curved beak of a raven.
Powers
Therelon is, indisputably, a master of the arcane. What at first was a natural inclination and predilection has evolved over the centuries into an embodiment. Before it was bound in the Pit, those who lacked a proper understanding of what the Children of Aton were would often mistake Therelon for a god of magic. With those centuries has also come intelligence and guile—though he does pale in the latter compared to some of his Siblings, like Eyra and Kinion.
Though it may surprise some to look at it, Therelon’s physical power is not particularly great. Aside from its ability to fly, most any mortal could accomplish greater physical feats than it. It normally avoids close quarters confrontation, but can compensate in such situations. It knows how to use its magic to augment its physical ability, but doing so is immensely inefficient, and limits it to all but its most basic magic while bringing it nowhere near the physical ability of many of its siblings—though, well beyond what a single mortal could overcome.
Original tribe
Therelon’s tribe were the Malaki—a name long forgotten before the Wars of the Children had begun to simmer in the hearts of Aton’s brood. So long ago that the story belonged more to legend than history before the construction of the Pit, Therelon led its people out into the desert, and ordered that they build a great tower. The site it chose was the harshest and most violently hot, but Therelon had the grace to shield its followers from the heat and storms of dust with its magic.
But Therelon did not shield them from the hardship of labor. Mining, cutting, and laying the stone of the tower was backbreaking labor; many of the Makati were crushed under rock, and broken by exhaustion. When a generation had passed, and all was complete, Therelon raised its clawed hands, and, in a focused effort of magic and will, fused the stone of the tower into a unified whole. It proclaimed that the tower would henceforth be a place where all the knowledge of the world would be gathered, and its seekers would congregate. Therelon posed a choice to its followers: Leave the tower behind, leave your master, populate the world with the blessing and protection of the Keeper of Knowledge, but owe it no allegiance, or stay as stewards and protectors of the tower. Many chose to leave Therelon and its Tower behind, becoming the first to populate what is now the Koyatia Province, and their descendants still survive in some of those who live there now. Those who stayed were declared by Therelon were declared the Devoted.
Ever since, it is the Devoted who have been Therelon’s people. So long as they persist, they are granted arcane power by a complex enchantment weaved by Therelon, drawing power from the very ground beneath the tower. Some would catalogue and organize the tomes and scrolls within the tower, others would stand ready to defend the tower should some force come to take or destroy what was held there, and others still would go out into the world to seek new tomes and new knowledge.
So it was for countless years. Peoples from across the world would make the journey through the forbidding wasteland to the Tower—which was, Therelon is known to have said, a test of intelligence and perseverance—and the Tower would receive and teach all those who came to learn win peace, repelling those who did not, and occasionally welcoming a new scholar into the ranks of the Devoted, and occasionally bidding farewell to those that did not find the life of the Devoted fulfilling. Things changed for them when Therelon was sealed away in the Pit.
With their master lost to them, the Devoted were consumed by sorrow, terror, and rage. Many voices called for them to wage war—to bring their arcane might against the Etruscan army with the fury of their grief. Some did. But by-and-large, the Devoted remained true to the duties given to them by their Master.
Their numbers dwindled over the centuries—some abandoned their duty and fled into the desert, some were lost to diseases that Therelon had protected them from, and some simply did not have children. At last, eight hundred years after Eyra’s betrayal, the Etruscan army came to the Tower. Many had thought them and their power to be boogeymen, made up to scare children into obeying their parents. Others had thought that their power had faded with the loss of their master, or with the passing of time. They were wrong; the Devoted fought with the fury of a forgotten era. Not since the Wars of the Children had magic been wielded on the field of battle, and while the Devoted could not compare to a member of Aton’s brood, they wielded their power with violence and rage, and accomplished together what so single caster could hope to. Great winds that raised up the sand to scour their enemies away. Blasts of heat that cooked armored soldiers alive. Boulders flung into the air and shattered with magic, to rain down great shards upon the besieging army. When the enemy managed to breech their defenses, they would push them back with arms and armor that had been woven with enchantments to allow them to overcome advantages of strength and number held by the enemy. It would have been enough to crush the morale of any invader.
Except the Etruscans weren’t just any invaders. They had come under the orders of their Godmother. They fought at the behest of divine will. Scores of scores of them died before the magic might of the Devoted, but still they pressed on. In time, their numbers won out. The defenders at the foot of the Tower were overrun. The Etruscan army poured up and around the great Tower, slaughtering the Devoted. There have always been rumors that some of them escaped, as one would expect, but none can deny that the bloodbath that day was ruthless. When the killing was finished, the taking began. Every book, every scroll, every enchanted relic, every single thing of remote value not part of the stone of the Tower was taken by the Etruscans. Eyra had them take it all, and she locked it away in her great vault.
And so the Devoted vanished from the world. People still tell tales of them. The Etruscans of the vile practitioners of the darkest arts, sacrificing babes and virgins to their cruel, avian god. Those who revile the Etruscans of great and terrible sorcerers who nearly bled the Etruscans dry, before being overrun in their valiant fight. Others still say that they are a fabrication; that they are old wives’ tales and best left to fade before the ages.
And in Koyatia stands a tower of stone. Untouched by time, undamaged by wind and sand. Waiting for its Master to once more come to roost, and bring knowledge and power to its Devoted Children.
Faction
Once the Tower had been established, Therelon had a very hands-off leadership of his Devoted; it largely left its flowers to carry out their duties in the fashion they determined, but would give advice if they asked and aid also only if they asked—and if it deemed the situation in need of its intervention. Its views on nations of mortals was similar: it left them to their own devices, but was willing to offer aid and aid if asked for—but as they were not its devoted, it would demand some price to do so. This put Therelon not quite in either camp, and it decided on the outset to be neutral, and allow both sides access to its archives.
However, it did not last. The time eventually came when Therelon was forced to choose a side. After careful consideration, it decided that the Angels were more in-line with its philosophy than the Demons, and so sided with them.
Anecdotes
Even after joining the Angels, Therelon allowed access to the Tower’s trove of knowledge to remain freely accessible to all. Ultimately it was a matter of principle: knowledge should not be restricted. Besides, if there was any tsctically or strategically important information inside, then the Demons would have made copies of their own long ago.
As the most magically inclined of the Children of Aton, Therelon was the one its fellow angels turned to design and build the Pit. It took some effort to do, but Therelon was eventually convinced to go along with the plan. It stung all the more for this when Eyra betrayed her fellow Angels, and bound them within the Pit.
A legend from the southern reaches of the world that says the first person to successfully forge a sword out of steel was one of Therelon’s Devoted. To honor their Master, they named the blade the Great Feather, as a reference to the color of Therelon’s wings. It is said that Therelon itself wove powerful enchantments through the blade, and that, in the hands of one of the Devoted, it could cut down all but the most skilled blademasters, but was an unwieldy hunk of metal in any other hands. It cut swathes through the ranks of the Etruscans when thay laid siege to the great Tower, but was lost to them when the Tower fell.
Opinions
Once, Therelon had a certain fondness for Eyra. Her ability came foremost from her mind, something which Therelon, scholar above all else, respected tremendously. But that has changed. She betrayed its trust, bound it in its own creation, and slaughtered its followers. Eyra is the first creature in all of Therelon’s long life to earn its hatred.
Therelon does not dislike Kinion. While Kinion’s antics could be grating at times, it found a great many stories of Kinion’s antics amusing, and saw that there hidden purpose in his every action—though as to what it was, he could not say. It opposed Kinion’s imprisonment in the Pit, and spoke out against it even as Kinion was being bound, but ultimately did nothing to stop it..
Would the tower and the Devoted still be around in the present day? Or was it abandoned over the last thousand years?
Short answer? Yes and no.
I've been thinking about that quite a bit since I made my post. I'm not sure how much magic ability Eyra had when she got that far south, but I'd imagine that it was enough so that, with an army backing her, she could have wiped out the Devoted—it would the sort of thing Etruscans would tell horror stories about, even centuries after it happened, but it could be done. After that, I'd imagine she'd want to take the books and scrolls inside for her own purposes, but she could destroy them if you like.
But bringing down the tower itself would be a bit trickier. This was the stronghold of someone who had the greatest thirst for knowledge the world had ever known—and with that comes a lot of magical knowledge. Add into that a hefty predisposition towards the arcane, and it rapidly becomes clear that it's going to take some serious juice to bring it to the ground. Eyra could potentially have been strong enough in her prime (that is really up to you, since you designed her), but it would have taken a lot out of her. It just wouldn't be an effective use of her time and energy.
So, the Devoted are gone, but the tower's still standing, and time isn't going to grind it down into dust.
EDIT: I don't know if anyone even saw this before I edited it, but I redid some awkward and unclear wording. And fixed a typo.
I'm thinking that I'll play a scholar, who ordered its tribe to construct a great tower (once, y'know, there was technology enough to build towers) at the hottest and most forbidding part of the wasteland that is now the province of Koyatia, using its arcane might to keep them safe from death by the tremendous heat, if not the usual conatruction-related maladies.
Once the tower was complete, its purpose was revealed: to serve as a storehouse for all the world's knowledge. The Child of Aton then offered its followers a choice: stay and serve as the keepers of the tower, or leave with the blessing and protection of their former master. After the years of back breaking labor, many chose to leave, and established the first tribes of Koyatia, some of which survive, in some form, to the present day.
Those who remained were henceforth known as the Devoted. The Child of Aton entered into an enchanted bargain with its Devoted: "All who dedicate their lived to the protection and stewardship of my tower and library shall know power arcane."
From then on, the Devoted would serve their master faithfully. Some catalogued and maintained the tower's Scrolls and times, others safeguarded it against those who would steal or destroy what lay within, and others still would go out into the world, seeking new knowledge to add to their master's trove. The most powerful of the Devoted would change physically over time, gaining traits that resembled their master--such ad feathers sprouting from their backs, or eyes growing in their foreheads.
The tower had been built out of the way on purpose. The desert served to keep away those who packed either the minimum intelligence, to plan the journey, resolution, to make the journey. Those who reached the tower were free to learn anything contained within its walls, so long as they did not try to prevent others from doing the same. If they managed to gain an audience, they could even bargain with the Child of Aton for some of its knowledge.
Of course, things changed after the Seer bound all her Siblings in chains...
Color me interested. I've had a concept for a character that I've wanted to use for quite a while, but haven't been able to, that I think would be great for this.
I think I'll cast a vote for Dusk. I prefer a built-in goal over something totally free-form.
Accalon endeavored to stay belowdecks as much as possible, to make sure the engine isn't experiencing any difficulties. However, he was confident enough in his skill as an engineer to leave it unattended for a short while.
And the air of the engine room was, while as safe as could be expected, presently unpleasant. Now, Accalon wasn't sure if he could call the Neath's air "fresh," but it was large enough to be fresher than the ash and soot below.
So equipped with his puspose and his justification, Accalon found himself under the false-night of the cavernous world he lived in. Being up above, his attention was caught by the Captain and the Doctor speaking. They weren't exactly close, but he'd had more than his fair share of practice listening to things he shouldn't have.
Accalon had noticed the ship's peculiar construction. The engine, and thus his quarters, were deep in its bowels. It would be impossible for him to not notice. But at this point, having chased down talking cats to learn their secrets, scraped together what meager knowledge he could about the Correspondence, met the Topsy King, and learned how to keep an engine running perfectly from talking rats, something as mundane as bizarre architecture really didn't stand out to him.
Perhaps it should have, but I'm not going down that road without anything solid to draw conclusions from. Not this time.
Of course, the ship's seaworthy-ness is what's keeping us all alive, so perhaps I should have been concerned from the start.
Adding to this was the fact that he suspected the Doctor had been in the Neath for some time. Of course, Accalon didn't have the faintest idea what the Doctor's actual history was...
Enough. Thinking myself in circles will accomplish nothing.
It was entirely possible that they had seen him—he hadn't exactly been trying to hide—but after being a thief for so long, walking silently had become something of a habit. He was halfway over to the Captain and the Doctor before he caught himself, and made sure to make noise with each step. More than was natural in fact.
Walking like this feels so very, very wrong.
He had reached them, just about. And as unnatural as it felt, and probably sounded, they couldn't not know it.
"'Scuse me," he said, "might you be talkin' 'bout the sizes of the rooms onboard? Because the engin' room's just about the size of a cathedral."
It was hyperbole, of course, but the engine room was massive. Larger was one thing, large could fit bigger engines than they had while working properly. The engine room was absurd.
