Casting Call: Purge! (A Fantasy RPG)

[MsFicwriter]

CASTING CALL: PURGE!

A Fantasy RPG

 

STORYLINE:

 

"This world is a beast that believes it is healthy and strong, but inside it is rotten. If we crack the Spine of Sazhen' itself, it will collapse upon itself. Mountains shall flatten, every sea be swallowed up, and the wicked die. As for us, the very instruments of the Purge? We shall dwell ever after in glory, borne on the only Vessel that will reach its final destination: eternity."

 

The very few people who say they've survived an encounter with the Purge--both the legion itself and the cause it follows--say that you either join its ranks or beg for death. They speak of trembling as your soul is exposed, as every secret you've ever harbored comes to light. Ordinary mortals have numbers and the desire for survival on their side in the realm of Sazhen', but the Purge has a secret weapon: A single drop of dragon's blood, absorbed into one's body, makes one almost invincible. This is what the Purge offers, and also the painful absolution that one can only find on the battlefield.

 

They've hunted the gargantuan, highly-intelligent, and (for the most part) honorable Wyrms to near-extinction. The last remaining female is hidden in the most reclusive and shadowy part of the realm: the mountainous Spine. Will a ragtag band of adventurers find her before the Purge does? There's a lethally good reason to do so, because this particular mother Wyrm has existed for far longer than anyone thinks. If she is saved, so shall everyone in Sazhen' be...

 

I SAY "HOORAY!" TO:

 

Detailed descriptions of characters, scenery, etc.

Deep dialogue

Long posts (even if they look like "walls of text", I don't mind a bit!)

Story suggestions in PM's

Keeping it clean and PG-13

 

I SAY "NO WAY!" TO:

 

God-moding

Killing off other people's characters without their permission

Having already-copyrighted characters in the plot (stay away, "Bella!")

Having every single MAIN character be a human (this is a fantasy RPG, so you can make up any race that would belong in a fantasy-type setting)

 

Let's fight the Purge together, and find the Wyrm!

[LDR]

(Decided to create the character sheet. )

 

Character Sheet

 

NAME: Tael As'yere

GENDER: Male

AGE: 28

SPECIES: Human

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Warrior/Knight/Duelist

APPEARANCE: Moderate length black hair, emerald green eyes, tan skin. Has a tattoo of a Teutonic Knight Crest on the palms of his hands. (I know they wouldn't have existed back then, but I'm going to make a little thing from it. )

WEAPONS: Dual custom-made swords, forged out of black onyx for the blade, and bronze (laced with leather) for the hilt. The ends of the hilts have a connector mechanism that - when connected - create a double-bladed staff. Also, a steel knife, with a leather hilt.

ARMOR: Steel plate armor, that is flexible due to mesh woven into the inside of it.

STRENGTHS: Strength, years of battle experience, expert duelist.

WEAKNESSES: Defense is poor compared to offense, poor vision in left eye due to injury, weak against magic.

 

BACKSTORY: Ever since he was first trained, Tael was known as a skilled warrior, one of the best in his class. Fighting in wars and battles, Tael is strong and adaptable. He is an outspoken person against the Purge, and they sent numerous assassins his way, one of them nearly succeeding in killing him. He escaped before he delivered the killing blow. Tael is open-minded and smart, and is known for being talkative and nice. These seem to be at odds with his love for battle, and years of bloodshed.

[Master_Archon]

"I shall join you in your cause against the Purge! And your search for the venerable beast!"

 

Continuation and editing shall occur, for now, adieu.

[Shana]

I will join too, gonna work on a character and edit accordingly

[MsFicwriter]

CHARACTER SHEET:

 

NAME: Per'dra Eyrir (not my Star Wars incarnation XD)

GENDER: Female

AGE: 35

SPECIES: Human

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Bard, a subset of the Rogue/Thief archetype

APPEARANCE: Very short red hair, blue eyes, incredibly fair skin

WEAPONS: Two crystalline short swords with a translucent white glow

ARMOR: Oiled burgundy and black leather, for ease of movement

STRENGTHS: Attack speed, battle-augmenting cries, kindness edged with wit

WEAKNESSES: Can't "tank" worth anything, easily led, impulsiveness

 

BACKSTORY: Built like a tavern wench, Per'dra is actually a poet and tale-teller by trade (at least when she's not fighting duels for coin!) Leave the official historical records of kings and noblemen to the scholars, walled up in their impenetrable stone towers: she chronicles the tales of the common folk, who have far less time on their hands. Even though she has the social graces and charisma of a bard, most wealthy and high-positioned people would shun her as being "unrefined". She wears her heart on her sleeve, if not her "hand".

[Cyborg Ninja]

NAME: Vakarr Choram

GENDER: Male

AGE: 25

SPECIES: Half Human/ Half Dark Elf

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Warlord. A warrior/tank.

APPEARANCE: Dark gray skin, black hair and red eyes. Strong build. Though he has the same skin color as his mother, he got his father's facial features and ears.

WEAPONS:

 

ARMOR: (without the shield)

 

 

STRENGTHS: High endurance and strength. Very cunning

WEAKNESSES: No speed, no agility, can't really trust others. Certain magic users

BACKSTORY: Vakarr was born the son of a human father and a dark elf mother. He was gifted with great intelligence at a young age. As a child, Vakarr was different to say the least. The other children tended to avoid him, while others would mock him. Vakarr began to look down at the other children with disdain, even after he stopped the bullying. He would distance himself from the other children. His gifted intelligence soon became a curse as he began to question society. Despite his questioning he was trained by his father in hope to become a knight. Vakarr proved to be a skilled warrior...but his heart wasn't in the right place. He dreamed of new order under his rule. The Problem? The Purge is standing in his way of that dream which means he'll have to do the unthinkable...side with the ones he wishes to someday rule over.

 

Vakarr is everything a knight shouldn't be. He's very arrogant and often talks down to others as a result. He sees no reason to be honorable in combat and simply wishes to destroy his enemies. He's very selfish and wouldn't even consider risking his own life on the average person. It would take someone that he would consider worthy of his presence for him to even considering aiding them in combat.

[Alkonium]

NAME: Tegan Diral

RACE: Dark Elf

GENDER: Female

AGE: 52

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Assassin

APPEARANCE:

Link

WEAPONS: Hand crossbow, katana, Butterfly Knife, an assortment of poisons and explosives. However, she very rarely carries it all at once.

ARMOUR: Her armour appears to be a basic, form-fitting leather outfit. It looks like it might once have been a Shadow Academy uniform, but any markings identifying it as such have been removed.

STRENGTHS: She very talented at sneaking, and particularly skilled in single combat.

WEAKNESSES: Her combat style is too dependent on the element of surprise.

BACKSTORY: Little is known of her past prior to her joining the guild of assassins known as the Shadow Academy, some 15 years ago. It is, however, common knowledge, that she was one of their most effective assassins, but now works freelance, raising the ire of the Shadow Academy, as well as its rivals.

 

She claims that some anonymous party hired her to help stop the Purge, and that she only took the job because of a considerable down payment.

 

Despite her profession, she does abide by her own personal moral code. When on a job, she goes out of her way to only kill her target, and will outright reject jobs she disagrees with, or even come to her target's aid as she learns more about the job.

[steven]

NAME: Rhys Shadow

GENDER: Male

AGE: 24

SPECIES: Human

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Mage / Shapeshifter

APPEARANCE: He has moderate length brown hair to accompany blue eyes and light caucasian skin. His body, particularly his torso is covered in tattoes made from a special ink that glow bright whenever magic is used. Each tattoo pattern is drawn in style of word that describes the spells he knows and all are written in the Wyrm written language.

 

WEAPONS: Magic. His ability to transform into a large wolf or eagal usually serves as the only weapon he needs however like all mages he has a basic understanding of fire magic though keeps it as a last resort. He carries a knife but that's mainly for show.

ARMOR: He wears what appears to be a standard set of clothes, however they are enchanted to protect against elemental attacks and could repel one knife stab before wearing off.

STRENGTHS: In his wolf form he serves as a great tracker and effective in fast, light combat. His eagel form makes him ideal for scouting ahead. Outside of shape shifitng he knows a small number of healing and fortifcation spells which serve good in a supporting role.

WEAKNESSES: Outside of shape shifting Rhys is very combat inexperienced and his understanding of other magic elements is very basic. If forced to fight on his own without back-up he'd be in serious danger.

 

BACKSTORY:

Rhys was on a three month long coming of age ritual that took him deep into the swamps of Ishkal to find and eat an piece of ancient fruit of an even older tree when the Purge came for his College. His parents had been mages so the Sazhen's College of Mages was all Rhys had even known. To find his home in ruins and his family nothing but a vast field of unmarked graves. Thankfully one of the college elders had been accompanying Rhys so she was able to take control of efforts to rebuild the college. Meanwhile she's trying to channel Rhy's desire for revenge into the more constructive tasks, such as investigating the rumours of the existence of the a surviving Wyrm.

[Shana]

NAME: Emi Firante

GENDER: Female

AGE: 22

SPECIES: half-elf

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Reaver/Rogue

APPEARANCE: Long dark blue-ish hair that covers part of her face, this is not without a reason though. Her face on the left side has deep burns and scarring from an accident in her past, but what is visible of her face would be considered extremely beautiful. Her dark blue eyes and pale white skin, slender figure and nicely curved.

WEAPONS: Two twin short swords and a belt with many short blades of different sizes and shapes, probably things she picked up from her fallen enemies.

ARMOR: Black leathered top and leggings, a cloak that covers most her body from others seeing the scarring on her back.

STRENGTHS: She is fast to move, as an assassin is. Handles her emotions well and even though her past is a traumatic one and she’s lived her live in punishment and almost borderline slavery, she is warm and tender but this is often missed because of her strongest weakness.

WEAKNESSES: She’s frail in mind but not body, even though she seems weak on both, she has trouble relating to others and often avoids conversation because she’s extremely shy and also immensely aware of her body, always thinking her scarring looks horrible to other people so she secludes and isolates herself for this.

 

BACKSTORY: The unwanted daughter of a Duke and an elven maid, Emi lived relatively at peace in the estate the family owned. One day, a lone assassin entered the estate looking to assassinate the Duke and his family. Emi saw as the assassin drove his blade though her father’s heart and left her mother, the Duke’s wife and her half-sisters to die in a fire he started. Unable to escape, her mother shielded her as best she could with her own body and she woke up in a castle a few days later with many burns on her body, also the news of her being the only survivor.

As she was taken to an orphanage, a stern man with the look of a military general strode into the orphanage taking some of the children and Emi with him. He subjected them to constant punishment and since Emi wasn’t strong when she first arrived, the man mostly whipped her every day until she got stronger and he forced her into the dark art of soul reaving. Gaining strength from stealing the souls of slain enemies. She lives also hunted by this as she escaped the man’s grasp only two years ago.

[Chevron 7 locke]

((Well, this certainly looks interesting ))

 

NAME: Valron

GENDER: Male

AGE: 25

SPECIES: Human

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Knight

APPEARANCE: Short brown hair that goes down to his neck. Valron has blue eyes and is around 6'5. He has a deep scar that goes down the right side of his face due to an encounter with the purge years ago.

WEAPONS: Large broadsword that is usually strapped to the back of his armor unless of course he's using it against his enemies.

ARMOR: Valron wears a set of steel armor that allows him to stand his ground against even the strongest of enemies.

STRENGTHS: Brute physical strength and expertise with many different types of weapons although he prefers to use the broadsword. He is also trained to fight with his fists when the need arises.

WEAKNESSES: He can't run when fully suited up due to the way his armor was forged and he refuses to run from a fight due to his sense of honor, he will fight to the death if necessary.

 

BACKSTORY: Valron was born into a low class family years ago and fought his way to the top of the ranks. After the lord whom he served was slain, Valron took his armor and his broadsword and left to travel the world. After a year of traveling he encountered the purge and was left with a long scar down his face. Since then he has dedicated himself to fighting the purge and helping those who require help.

[Writer]

I'll be joining too... I just have to figure my character's history out. As it stands, I've written a little over two pages of just her backstory. I'm going to want to slim it down before I post it

[MsFicwriter]

Really?!? I'll be thrilled to have you join!

[steven]

I'll be joining too... I just have to figure my character's history out. As it stands, I've written a little over two pages of just her backstory. I'm going to want to slim it down before I post it

 

Show off!

[Writer]

No, showing off would be posting the entire backstory, it being by then five pages long. I'm merely bragging

[Master_Archon]

(not my Star Wars incarnation XD)

 

That so..... -_-; - JK

 

Silenced 9mm Semi-automatic handgun, compacted Sniper Rifle (both gnome-made)

 

Holy smokes, the Gnomes do good work making suppressed auto-mag handguns and compact snipers!

 

I'll be joining too... I just have to figure my character's history out. As it stands, I've written a little over two pages of just her backstory. I'm going to want to slim it down before I post it

 

Ah Writer, forever the embodiment of his own name and title. And always an honor and a pleasure to have in any RP.

 

CHARACTER SHEET:

 

NAME(S):

• Elven Name: Thîr-Rhovan ~ Wild Faced

• Name Given By Men: Grimgríma ~ Fierce Mask

• Actual Fenléf Name: Vhâl-mohn-Vhân

GENDER: Male

AGE: Unknown

SPECIES: Fenléf/Wosemer/Wetland Elf

CLASS:

• Archetype(s): Rogue; Shaman; Druid

• Subset: Somnurðr/Dreambrand

COMBAT ROLE: Guerrilla

PROFESSION: Hunter; Soothsayer

APPEARANCE: Linkism - Few know his features under his mask and headdress beyond those that are below them. He has the build of all Fenléf: tall (6' 8"), though most can't tell as he is almost always crouching or slouched. Thin; to such an extent that even other elves consider both him and the Fenléf 'small'. A look under the mask would show sharp, gaunt features, though by no means ugly, as the Fenléf still retain much of the same fair and handsome features of their elven brethren. His own face is riddled with markings and tattoos that carry on down his neck and to his upper shoulders, and continue trailing down his spine - his hands, calves, and bottom of his feet also have many markings and tattoos in conjunction to these. He has his people's distinct opalescent eyes, halving between a beautiful viridian green and a deep dark orange-amber (with the amber as the base shade, and the green as the overset shade); his eyes turn a violet color when he uses his magic, and 'vent' a fog. His hair, like his people, looks much like it were made of precious metals and stones, having an almost metallic 'sheen', or an clear-opaque 'glittering' look to it; his unkempt hair comes to his shoulders and he is one of the rare 'diamond' haired. Lastly, like his brethren, he has the same taupe skin.

WEAPONS: A tip-curved (held tip down like in picture) ebony blade of Fenléf design and craft; a sling with varying types of ammunition, including the most abundant and simplest kind, rocks; magic

ARMOR: An ironwood mask with lacquered coatyl feather headdress that runs down, and covers, the back. Oiled leather pauldrons and sleeve cuffs.

STRENGTHS: Tenacity. Has the hands and feet of a natural runner and climber; just like his kind his size belies his strength, though by no means 'powerful', he could easily constrict someone with any of his limbs or digits much like a jungle snake, and has a grip like a vice. Speed that more than makes up for the lack of any real armor, along with stealth, cunning, and guile. He has inset senses and instinct that give him an almost precognitive ability to avoid most incoming ranged attacks, and dodge or block melee blows.

WEAKNESSES: Has almost no fortitude (or armor), and if struck could easily be put on his back (or seriously wounded). A distinct (and strong) aversion to people, the race of Men in particular (like all of his people). Being one of the rare 'diamond' haired of his kind, he is always in danger of being killed by those who would covet and sell his scalp. Paranoia that is present in all his kind (severity varies by individual, but is for the most part minor in most).

 

BACKSTORY: Vhâl-mohn-Vhân is one of the rare and elusive Fenléf, or Wetland Elves as the race of men have come to call them (termed as Wosemer among colleges - magic or otherwise - the better educated and some of the older races. E.G. Dwarves, Gnomes, Hobbits, Etc.). If one was to describe Vhâl-mohn-Vhân, one would have to delve into his people's history, for it is well known that when it comes to the Fenléf there is little known.

 

The Fenléf are a primitive, reclusive, and a somewhat feral race of elves that make their tribal homes in swamps and fens, and are considered the 'True' Wild Elves for the fact that even the Wild Elves themselves pale in comparison to the natural characteristics and lifestyles of the Fenléf.

 

Fenléf are descended from the mixed lines of all Elven kind; the result of a long, ancient, and bloody war that caused thousands of warriors of all Elven races present at the time to become displaced and eventually make lives together. Though the difference between the many Elves was both vast and great, it didn't stop them from finding solace in each other, and similarities in their nature as warriors (some of these couples can still be found in secluded, far off regions still together to this day). Their descendents eventually gathered in large groups millenia ago and became a unified people. It was not known how (though it is assumed due to the vast mingling of so many of the Elven bloodlines), or when, but eventually the Fenléf began to take on characteristics unique to their race, even among elves, such as opalescent eyes with dual shades of coloration, and the most astonishing, their hair, which looks much like threads of precious metals (the most common appearance) and clear strands of precious gems (the more rare appearance), both of these characteristics have given them the name 'The Bejeweled Folk'. The idea of such beautiful hair had caught the eye of many of the others races; the Dwarves in particular started to capture and enslave stray Fenléf, or raid small villages (anything larger would have provoked not only the Fenléf, but the whole of elven kind to retaliate - yes, even Dark Elves) simply to possess their hair, while many of the darker kindred began the hunting and scalping of the Fenléf. Eventually attacks and enslavement would increase from the Dwarves, and the Fenléf would rise in force to stop them (aided by the ancient intermingled couples - thus why their are far less of those couples now - and some High and Wild Elf allies). The retaliation was so fierce, as well as brutal, that no slave was left in the hand of any Dwarf, and the darker races that had been hunting and scalping the Fenléf were terrified into passivity by what had occurred to the Dwarves. Both races' numbers were declined greater, and it would be hundreds of years before the two would ever have any form of relations, and hundreds of years more after that to stop holding grudges over what had happened; but eventually both would come to terms and even begin active trading, and in some rare cases, hold alliances.

 

Not until the rise of Man as a people a power and nations would the Fenléf know the tragedy of those ancient times. The Fenléf had been around millenia before Men had ever come into existence, and thus to Men are considered an Old, or Elder race, much like other Elves, though to other Elves they are still a young race, but not the youngest among Elves. During the 'Ancestor March' (Fenléf called it this due to the ancient couples being roused to unite their descendents against the acts of the Dwarves, and to honor them for many of their number sacrificed themselves in battle for the sake of their 'children') Man was just a minute and simple people, terrified by the vastly larger and more powerful races, as well as constantly under threat of being destroyed by the darker races. After thousands of years had passed and the relations between the Fenléf and Dwarves had grown to such a point that the war was nothing more than a bad memory for the Fenléf, and a bad taste in the mouths of the Dwarves, did Man even notice the Fenléf, and with this they began to covet their beautiful hair, much like the Dwarves. But the Dwarves were not known to be cruel, even to slaves, or even Elven slaves, no, at the very least the Fenléf slaves of the Dwarves were treated with some degree of care, for the Dwarves did not want their precious hair to be any less beautiful due to mistreatment. But Man...Man was beset by a thing that was beyond what many races could comprehend; a neutrality in their dispositions that allowed them to be swayed to extremes of one direction or another, unlike other races that all seemed to have common denominators - though individuality was still strong - Man changed faces at a whim it seemed, and was always under both suspicion and scrutiny from the Elder races. Many attributed this to Men having short lives, and thus short memories among their people, allowing them to be swayed like a leaf on the wind; or because of their mortality and ambiguity as a whole, as the Elves were 'Immortal' as the loose term was, and the Dwarves were 'Of the Stone', and many other races had claims to a root, and a purpose, while Man was a young race, who could neither remember, nor agree, on their own existence. Whichever of these (or both) was the cause, Man was one thing the Dwarves never were: Cruel.

 

Man began to slowly repeat the same process the Dwarves themselves had done: taking individuals, or raiding very small villages. But time could only heal so much, as the Dwarves multiplied and replenished their number (though never to what it was before the 'Ancestor March'), the Fenléf did not grow so quickly, as was common with Elves, they were not a people to grow in number quickly much like Men, and so they were still far less than they once were. As the raids escalated, much like with what happened with the Dwarves, the Fenléf could only do so much, they struck out at the many groups and nations of Men and were successful, but Man was quick to replenish their numbers, while the Fenléf were still just recovering; add that the Ancestor Couples were so few in number that they'd gone into seclusion and weren't able to rally the Fenléf and their allies like before. Man's cruelty to their slaves was beginning to grow evident to the other races, and through this knowledge did the Dwarves in a miraculous turn of irony, come to the aid of the Fenléf; literally beating down the doors of their blind and slumbering Elven kindred and allies, and any others who were willing to stop the cruelty of Man's slavery of the Fenléf (and near dissolve of their people and kingdoms). Man was treated far less harshly than the Dwarves had fared, and were given a smack on the back of the hand in comparison, but this was only because of Man's youth as a whole and as a race. Though many of Man's kingdoms fell and were destroyed in the retaliation, they suffered far less in terms of how drastically their numbers were cut and culled.

 

But Man did indeed have short memories, for only after a few of their generations did Man begin something else all for the sake of greed and covetousness. They began hunting the Fenléf and scalping them; as they had heard tales of the darker races and their hunts for Fenléf scalps from Dwarves and others. Over time Man meticulously chiseled away at the Fenléf, keeping such activities hushed from outside ears. Over decades and even centuries the horrible 'sport' of hunting Fenléf took a tole on them, and they were forced to release their grasp on their lands and kingdoms that they had held tight to for millenia, and they broke apart into nomadic groups, avoiding contact with outsiders, Man in particular. Instead of discouraging Men as many would have hoped, this only increased their efforts, as finding and hunting a Fenléf was now far harder, and a rare trophy to be had. This increase in hunting forced the Fenléf to find places of seclusion and isolation, but none quite suited them like the wetlands of the realm. Over the decades the Fenléf simplified and broke down, becoming tribal, and feral in nature, they soon lost much of what they once were, from their once strong builds, and fairer khaki skin, as well as their rich language and names, forgetting even their title among the Elves - for they were not always called the Fenléf - they are only shadows of what they once were, retaining only their defining characteristics and the fair and handsome features of all Elves, they shun the outside world. Cunning has replaced knowledge, and guile has replaced charisma; they are extremely territorial, watching intruders and interlopers from among the brush unnoticed, they are known to set deadly traps, and kill people of ill-intent (and sometimes, not-so-ill-intent).

 

In their dissolve and decline into primitive ways, the ties they had held with the Dwarves had dissolved too, and although the memory of what had happened centuries before was still there, they began to take slaves once more, but resolved never to take it beyond taking individuals, no attacking Fenléf tribes; the Dwarves have been good to their own vows. This in turn has been both a blessing and a curse, as the Dwarves are kind taskmasters compared to that of the very few Men who take Fenléf slaves, and give them seemingly better lives than what they had even in their tribes, while it meant they would be slaves, and property, undying, passed down through generations from Dwarf heir to Dwarf heir. Still, it kept them from the threat of being hunted. The sudden reintroduction of slaves into the Dwarven halls brought attention of the hunting and scalping of the Fenléf to the other Elven races, disgusted by Man, and guilty for their blindness once more, the Elves sought to intervene on the Fenléf's behalf. Eventually they (in a nonviolent manner) ended the hunt of Fenléf, as it had evolved into a tradition of 'sport' rather than the desire for their hair, and Man was convinced to stop such horrible actions and kept under ever watchful eyes, for the Elves do not wish to make the same mistake again, for it was and is as cruel as the hunting of the Fenléf itself.

 

Even today only the truly adventurous, or the very foolish, try hunting Fenléf but the number of those fools, and the Fenléf's memory have kept them feral and rare.

 

This is how one would describe Vhâl-mohn-Vhân, for the history of his people paints his very being, and his very existence, both literally and figuratively, as his tattoos are tales of the history of his people. Vhâl-mohn-Vhân is a Somnurðr, a tribal magical-advisor, similar in role as that of a spiritual-advisor, the Somnurðr takes aspects from that of the Druid and Shaman coupled with the abilities of stealth and combat of all Fenléf. A Somnurðr is someone who delves into the realm of the mind, more specifically dreams (thus the more commonly used term among the younger races of being called Dreambrands), and though most Somnurðr's can only affect those who are asleep, some of the oldest and most powerful Somnurðrs can use their abilities when people are awake - Vhâl-mohn-Vhân is one of those. Somnurðrs aren't completely incapable of using magic outside of their abilities with the mind, to the contrary, they are skilled in many abilities that fit perfectly with their nature and people; from illusion to the manipulation of their environment, Somnurðrs are powerful magic wielders who meld the realm of spirit and nature together to make powerful abilities unique to their people. Somnurðrs are given names of the Elven tongue (though not their own tongue) when they complete the ritual of history, wherein they take the markings and tattoos that are put onto the various parts of their body, and travel outside of their reclusive homes in the wetlands and go to the ruins of their people's old kingdoms and meet with the Eldest and wisest of the various Elven leaders to be given a name as a sign of acknowledgement to the Fenléf people for both blessings and protection (and in many ways, an apology).

 

While out hunting, the Purge came to Vhâl-mohn-Vhân's tribe. Not even the harsh swamps of the Fenléf could stop it, and many of his kin were slain, though none were converted. Fortunately the Fenléf are a people used to travesty and being hunted, so many of his people had escaped, and the tribe had moved on, as was the nature of the Fenléf. For when a tribe's location is found, the tribe moves, while those that were out are left to find where they went; all find their way home over time, no matter where their tribe has gone. Often in cases of a hunted the Somnurðr is sent to find the hunter if the hunter is still a threat to the tribe at large (which is always). When Vhâl-mohn-Vhân found his tribe gone, and his people dead, he knew he would have to hunt the ones who had done this, though yes, he knew this was not the result of any hunter, he also knew that he could not return to his tribe without destroying this 'thing' that had killed so many of his people. As a Somnurðr he could sense there was something greater to this, and that if he did not take action, then all the tribes of all the Fenléf were in danger, maybe more.

 

To this day he does not know where his tribe is, or where they went. He both seeks them, and hunts the Purge in what ways he can.

 

NAME(S):

• Given Dwarf Name: Yngvi

• Dwarven Clan Name: Hón Járnauga Dourhammer ~ Iron-Eye

GENDER: Female

AGE: 277

SPECIES: Dwarf

CLASS:

• Archetype(s): Rogue

• Subset: Acrobat

COMBAT ROLE: Support; Harassment

PROFESSION: Dancer; Thief

APPEARANCE: Linkism - Nothing like one would expect to see of a Dwarf, she is fairly tall (4'10") for her kind, lacking the stereotyped stout, broad appearance of her folk, having instead a slender feminine figure and toned build. With bronzed skin from life on the surface and in the sun (though her clan has light tan skin to begin with), she has big, soulful eyes of a mahogany brown, and auburn hair that carries a few - prominent - streaks of obsidian black hair.

WEAPONS: Meteor Hammer; Dwarven Hatchet

ARMOR: None; she usually only wears the clothes on her back, but on rare occasions she'll don an old Dwarven chainmail shirt that she carries with her.

STRENGTHS: The grace of a dancer and the inherent dexterity of all Dwarves - honed through a life as a minor thief and pickpocket. Her every movement holds a sense of form and she has amazing flexibility; never making unnecessary movements or wasting energy. She utilizes much of her abilities as a dancer in her use of implements of combat, flitting about the battlefield in an array of deadly beauty; a dance of death. Has the natural hardiness of all Dwarven folk, and through her life of hardship, thievery, and dancing she has become quite spry for a Dwarf, able to jump and fall great distances with little affect to her person, and able to run longer-farther compared to much of her immediate kin.

WEAKNESSES: A general lack of combat skill and protection. Though not naive, or inexperienced, she tends to asphyxiate herself so strongly on her passions that the reality around her tends to escape her grasp/notice. Can be stubborn, fiery, and impassioned to the point of being reckless about herself. Though by no means greedy like her kin can be, her life of hardship has made her possessive - takes things - even when there is no need, a tendency brought about through the 'need' for something she might not have later on.

 

BACKSTORY: Hón, her title as a Dwarven maiden; Járnauga, the name of her family line; Dourhammer, the clan by which her family and ancestors are known. To her kind this is what she is known by, to those outside of the Dwarven race she is Yngvi - she has not seen her family, nor her clan for over a century.

 

Yngvi grew up in the great Dwarven hall, Gogan Marr-Irkul, an ancient and secluded dwelling of the Dourhammer Dwarves. For the first one hundred years of her life she grew up under the common tutelage of all Dwarven maidens, until the day that she heard one of the halls traders speaking of the outside world did she dare to question her place. She had always been taller than her siblings and friends, and was still growing (and still is), she was an abstract and a rarity among Dwarves, and this gave her family all the more reason to keep her restricted. It was not until her 102nd birthday did she finally leave Gogan Marr-Irkul, taking supplies and an old Dwarven chiainmail shirt and hatchet from her family hold, intending to trade the former of the two for money, as Dwarven armor, no matter how old, was very valuable to the outside world, or so she had heard.

 

Her life for the next 175 years would be a life like she had not known, nor would have expected. Her first encounter with the surface world was with one of the Dwarves most common old foes, Goblins, and she soon discovered that her need for the chainmail shirt she had taken was far greater than just for money. She soon found out that even being old it was of far higher quality than anything she would find on the surface from any of the other races save maybe the Elves; on top of it saving her skin on far more than one or two occasions - she would grow to cherish what little she had of her Dwarven home and family. Later she would discover something the Dwarves lacked in their great halls - art. Though the Dwarves were great craftsmen, and shapers of stone and much of what they did was of outstanding quality and could be considered 'artistic', they lacked something that she herself would fall in love with at first sight and perfect over the century and decades afterwards: Dance. She knew that if she were back home she would be mocked for her choice in life to dance and perform, but she didn't care, this was the reason she left in the first place, to discover things that her clan did not ordain couth to their people, to not be constrained to being a maiden who would be betrothed and married by 300 (and popping out a Dwarven litter of close to four going on up to even eight - on rare occasions - by the time she was 1200). Over her 175 years on the surface, learning to dance, teaching herself, mimicking others, and on rare occasions receiving free lessons (and only a few even rarer payed lessons) she would transform from the frumpy, robust Dwarf maiden that she had been made to be (at only 4'7" at the time) to the slender and toned dancer that she is now, becoming anything but what a Dwarven maiden is meant to be; still young, she is still growing taller even, going beyond even what she was when she first left her home (now 4'10", and still growing), only adding to the uncommon picturesque beauty that she has become. If her family and clan saw her now they would truly be shocked (and outraged).

 

During her life of transformation from naive Dwarf maiden, to rare Dwarven dancer she would find life on the surface with her choice of lifestyle harsh and unforgiving. She would take to a life of thievery, utilizing her people's natural dexterity and craftmanship with their hands to become a minor thief and an adept pickpocket; living hand-to-mouth, she would see the world through a view of 'have-nots', and 'might-needs', taking what she couldn't afford at the time (or what she thought she might not be able to obtain in the future), buying whatever she could when she could afford it (she was not a thief when she didn't have to be). Her only personal belonging that she has that she'd bought with nothing but earned, honest money was her meteor hammer, her weapon of choice; it's use perfected over decades, her dancing skills incorporated in the obscure weapon's use.

 

It wasn't until a short time ago did she hear news that her people were being pushed out of their secluded halls of stone by the Purge. She knew almost immediately that her home, Gogan Marr-Irkul, would be found sooner or later, and that her family and clan that she had abandoned so long ago would be found and destroyed, or worse, converted - though she knew few of the Dourhammer Dwarves would do such a thing; only the most weak and cowardly amongst them. She knew that she had to do something, but knew not what it was, she was one Dwarf maiden, a dancer at that, against an army, she wasn't naive anymore, and knew that making a righteous stand for her people would do nothing; while going back to her home to warn them would only bring the accumulated shame and ridicule of her people down upon her head, and their stubbornness borne of her warnings would be their doom. She had all but put the thought of doing something for her people out of her mind, until one day by happenstance she met a rare and elusive Fenléf (though it was more by a criminal act, rather than coincidence that she encountered him). All details of the encounter aside, she found that he was working against the Purge in his own way, she found this both intriguing and inspiring; she chose to 'aid' him. The Wosemer does not enjoy her presence, nor claims to travel with her (nor does she claim to do so either), but out of some 'coincidence' she always seems to travel in the same direction he does.

 

Will edit the second character later, for now, enjoy reading!

 

Both of my characters are finished, enjoy the read!

[MsFicwriter]

Master_Archon, you ARE a master--of creating character sheets!

 

TRAVELERS AND SPIES:

 

With so many characters participating in this roleplay, I'd like to split them up into two "bands of brothers (and sisters)". One band's objective is to travel throughout the realm of Sazhen' to find V'toryv, the last Wyrm who exists within it. V'toryv, a crystalline brooding female, is hidden in the uncharted (and un-located) Spine of Sazhen'. The other band marches with the Purge as Spies, communicating with the Travelers via magic means and telepathy.

 

THE RISKS INVOLVED:

 

The Travelers risk getting captured or killed by the members of the Purge (not to mention wandering beasts, bandits, and behemoths!) The Spies risk having their cover blown at any moment, especially when they're trying to get in touch with the Travelers. Also, there's the temptation to join the Purge, or at least try and acquire the single drop of dragon blood one needs for ultimate supremacy. One must prove oneself worthy to ingest it. If you fail, you die!

 

V'TORYV, THE FINAL (AND ULTIMATE) WYRM:

 

V'toryv guards the Spine of Sazhen' with her very life, as the Purge is not the first group of omnicidal maniacs that has tried to destroy it. Long ago, a band of 200 explorers came close to doing so. Fortunately for V'toryv and all the creatures of the realm, these explorers were easily slain because they had gone insane! Disease, greed, and simple starvation had made them lose their sanity. Thus, they never had any idea that they could have eradicated all of Sazhen'.

 

Who killed them? V'toryv, of course, and she stands ever vigilant as she guards her nest. However, she knows she'll need others' help against the soldiers of the Purge. The blood of her lost children now runs through their veins, and this power, now turned against her, is weakening V'toryv. A single drop of HER blood, however, contains the essence of pure victory: victory over enemies, over hate, over greed and lust for power--even over death...

 

THE PURGE:

 

The Purge refers both to a vast army and to the cause it embraces. The Purge wishes to rid the world of wickedness and evil. To them, these are not merely ideas or actions, but states of being as well. Every creature that has free will/a mind is tainted with the urge and curse of wrongdoing. Thus, there are only two solutions for mortalkind: either join their cause, or perish and therefore be cleansed. Dead people can be/do evil no more. Neither can those people who have "surrendered their will", meaning having it obliterated...

 

QUESTION:

 

Which "band" do you wish to join: the Travelers or the Spies?

[Alkonium]

Tegan will join the Travellers.

[LDR]

Tael will join the Travellers as well.

[steven]

Rhys will serve among the Travellers, if you need him he could be incharge of communications for the travellers, it would fit the supporting role he's in.

[Chevron 7 locke]

Valron will join the travellers also if it's alright.

[MsFicwriter]

All right. Your characters are now on the Travelers' Team, and Rhys is in charge of communications. As for Per'dra, she's on the team of Spies. Who's with her?

[Writer]

Well since Archon posted a rather long backstory for one of his, I suppose I won't cut mine down either

 

 

 

NAME: Akeirra

GENDER: Female

AGE: 121

SPECIES: Meinari (of which Akeirra is the only known living representative)

CLASS/COMBAT ROLE: Thief/spy/infiltration expert

APPEARANCE: Light skin, dark brown hair, violet eyes. Tends to dress in black turtleneck, long-sleeve shirts, black pants, and lightweight black boots, and wear her hair in a french braid. She always wears elbow-length black gloves, and if she's aiming to be completely unseen, she will complete this outfit with a black mask.

WEAPONS: A pair of sais, hilts bound in black leather. A set of twenty throwing knives. All these weapons have black blades. In addition to them, she also occasionally carries a small pouch containing an assortment of poisons, mostly in powder form.

ARMOR: Usually none, though she has been known to don lightweight leather pieces if she thinks she'll need a little extra protection.

STRENGTHS: Speed, agility, silence, flexibility.

WEAKNESSES: Her small size means it's relatively easy to overpower her, provided you can first catch her. Her curiosity has also been known to get her into trouble, as it has prompted her to stay in a hostile environment longer than she should have. While she is fast, she tires quickly. Her best bet at getting out of a conflict is to dodge and dart, and hopefully get out of sight before her adversary can catch up to discover where she's gone.

 

BACKSTORY: Akeirra awoke one day thirty years ago with a jagged piece of metal jammed through her left arm, deep scratches scattered across the rest of her body, and no recollection of who or what she was. The first people to encounter her in this state were members of a spy ring and though none of them could understand her when she spoke, nor she them, they managed to calm her enough for their medic to tend to her wounds. As the medic worked, they spoke amongst themselves and Akeirra listened attentively, hissing occasionally against the pain.

 

Once her arm was bandaged and most of her other scratches had been tended, they began what they expected to be an arduous process: communication. Indeed, their early attempts failed at doing much more than frustrating the entire party. At long last, in exasperation, Akeirra tore the remainder of her right hand glove clean off and pressed her hand against the forehead of one of the thieves. He yelped in pain and Akeirra fell back, swearing in her native tongue. As the other thieves were drawing their weapons to retaliate against what they perceived as an attack, Akeirra spoke in a language they understood: “I… didn’t know I could do that.” With communication at last a non-issue, they asked her name, but found to both their dismay and hers that she remembered nothing. Opting to let that go for the moment, they took her with them, spying in her posture and the way she moved that she could be an asset to their band.

 

Over the next few months, she trained with them, calling herself Zhaanain, which she told her new friends was the nearest her language came to saying, “Unknown”. Then, during a trip out with one of them, she attended a show put on by a magician. The magician cast a spell on his audience, making each of them tell him their name in turn. Even after months of calling herself Zhaanain and being called thus by her friends, the spell drew out things she could not remember. When she returned to her senses and realized the magician now held information she did not, Akeirra begged him to tell her and he agreed. Her name was Akeirra, her species called Meinari, her age ninety-one. He confessed however that he had never heard of the Meinari and suspected her of having the strength of mind to withstand his spell long enough to throw in something entirely fictitious. It hardly mattered to Akeirra and her friends though; they now had some facts to go on.

 

As the years continued, Akeirra progressed rapidly in her training. By age ninety-six, she had proved her aptitude for the kind of work the thieves wanted her trained for. When she turned ninety-nine, she was sent out on a job alone, from which she almost didn’t return. Her job was to infiltrate a blacksmith’s and steal a unique sword designed for a king. Infiltration was easy, as was finding the desired sword. The job went sideways when she laid eyes on a pair of sais, completely black with black leather grips. Until this point she had carried only a handful of throwing knives for defensive purposes, but now she at last saw something she wanted. She carefully laid aside the king’s sword and moved to grab the sais, but that brought her into plain view of the blacksmith’s apprentice, whose location in the shop she had misjudged. At first, he took her for a prospective customer he hadn’t heard arrive, but she darted forward in a panic, seized the sais and rushed back the way she’d come, catching up the king’s sword as she went. The apprentice caught up the bow he kept on hand for just such an occasion and snapped off a quick shot just as Akeirra was disappearing. His arrow embedded itself in her shoulder and she fled without removing it. She returned to her thieving friends with the arrow still in her shoulder and immediately collapsed.

 

It took a week of care during which she was feverish and only borderline conscious before she recovered; the apprentice’s arrow-tip had been dipped in poison, ensuring that if his aim did not kill, his target should not be able to get far. When Akeirra was strong enough to walk, she was called before the leader of the band of thieves. He reprimanded her severely for her failure and kept the sais for himself, saying it would be a lesson to her in the foolishness of deviating from the job. She accepted this and immediately returned to work.

 

For five years, Akeirra’s record was nearly spotless. She successfully accomplished all the objectives she was sent for, but she was also captured fifteen times, nearly captured thirty-seven times, and injured in one way or another almost every job. The band’s leader finally had enough, telling her that if she was not more careful the next time he sent her out, he would kill her if she came back. As she had seen him follow through in this threat before, she fought hard to ignore her curiosity and came back successful, not even once captured, and uninjured. Unfortunately for that band of thieves, Akeirra was not their weak link, and the night after she returned completely successful, they were caught in a surprise attack. Their leader, assuming Akeirra had turned to save her skin drew the sais and tried to kill her, but was shot through the heart before he could land a blow.

 

Akeirra and several others were taken captive in the raid and interrogated regarding their positions in the organization. It was assumed this thieving band was a small part of a larger operation and the men who took them wanted that ring’s leaders. Most of the thieves refused to talk and so went to their deaths loyal to a dead leader, but that leader had tried to kill Akeirra before he was himself struck down and so she had no such loyalty. She offered her services to the agents and proved her worth by picking the pocket of one of her interrogators while chained to a chair. And so, her second round of training began.

 

For three years, they trained her intensively in how to lie, how to resist interrogation techniques, how to use the sais she so treasured. When she was 106, they started spreading a rumor about a new thief/spy for hire. They sent out assassins to take out a few small-time thieves and spies and assigned credit for their exploits to Akeirra. In each case, they left her calling card – a small black throwing knife with her name etched into the blade, in a flowing script, in her native language. In just a few short months, people were beginning to call her the Spy from Nowhere.

 

A year later, with her reputation established, Akeirra returned only once to the spies who made her into a legend. She left them a promising lead on the ring of thieves they so desperately wanted, but they were unable to follow up on it, for she had scarcely reached the city gates when their headquarters erupted in a massive explosion that took out nearly a third of the city in which it resided. She spent the next fifteen years enhancing her reputation and ensuring that no one alive could identify her specifically as the Spy from Nowhere. To give the legend a little additional distance from her real self, she also spread the rumor that the Spy’s name was Zhaanain.

 

In recent years, the Spy from Nowhere has turned into a major spy network, in which only a small handful are aware of Zhaanain’s true identity. Whenever working with others, Akeirra tends to introduce herself as an associate of the Spy from Nowhere, though she occasionally makes an appearance as Zhaanain herself, mostly just to keep the legend alive.

[Shana]

Emi will be a traveller, her backstory and personality would make it difficult for her to be a spy

[Cyborg Ninja]

Maybe we should do without the two groups and just let them all travel together. Maybe someone could make another character to act as this spy. I only bring this up as we have a lot of people joining the travelers. This would mean to balance it a little, Archon and myself would be joining the spies. My character is pretty much evil, and to put him near the dragon blood would not end well. Plus I don't think he could be a spy in the first place. I've talked to Archon and his characters don't fit the description for the spy. That would add three more characters to the travelers. I'm only suggesting here, not demanding.

[MsFicwriter]

What do the rest of you think? Should we have the two teams or not?