Accepting New Characters: ACCEPTING! Posting Expectations: Promptly, but no pressure. Rating: PG-13 to R. Genre: Fantasy/Mystery/Adventure
The doomspeakers of The Chapel say that the world of Jord is nearing it's final moments, where the five continents must band together and forget their past grievances to fight the coming apocolypse. Naturally, most people ignored them. After all, there's a war going on. Several wars. And the first one begins in a continent known as Norður, or in the common tongue, The North.
The North. The largest continent. Frozen, inhospitable, corrupt, and ruled by a mad king. The nation has become a warzone, as nobles fight bloody crusades against one another in an attempt to earn the throne. Lord Wolperting is one such noble. His motivations are different. He doesn't want the thone at all. He wants to save it. Wolperting takes faith in the prophecies of the Chapel, and believes the world is coming to a conclusion. He's called men and women from all across the planet to help him do what all heroes must do in the end; Save the World. You have recieved a letter, and have responded to Wolperting's call.
Jord is a fantastic world that combines technology and fantasy. Airships are a common sight over the skies, and in the Middle Continent there is a railway that bisects the continent. This technology can be attributed to the Elves, who disappeared in Jord many years ago. It's well known that a disease wiped them out, but it's unknown what it's nature was. Jord is a world where many races, religions, and creeds, mingle freely, though racism and fanaticism are not out of question; particularly in the North. Many in the North trade in fear. There is nothing a Northern noble desires more than power, where there's nothing a Northern native or peasent desires more than salvation.
Brathis: A peaceful nation of windmills, farmers, and old traditions and a very old royal family. Currently at war with Kreig.
Kreig: A storm-torn nation with an underground city, and an emphasis on equality and the warrior spirit. At war with Brathis.
Chalice: A small island nation, housing the elegant and powerful Chalicites; a race of batfolk known for high-society, powerful magic, and really good wine.
The North: Frozen, deeply bureaucratic and authoritarian. Known for its aristocratic race of nobles, the Sabil, and their servants, the native Broadbacks. In a civil war.
The Middle Continent: Perhaps the most peaceful nation, and most diverse. There is the deeply lawful northern sector, which houses Jord's benevolent Emperor. The Southern tip has some of the most barbaric warrior tribes.
The South: A nation fraught with volcanos and desert. Filled with nomads and criminals, the South would be considered lawless if not for the powerful warlords that occasionally arise.
Major Deities: (Not Necessary for All Characters)
The Chapel (of the Sacred Flame): The church of retribution and cleansing. They follow the word of 'The Book', a collection of poetry written by their founder years ago. They believe in the cleansing of Jord through flame, and tend towards zealous behaviour -- passionate, but maybe too stubborn. They also tend to have up-beat cheerful personalities, confident they will be saved in the cleansing of the planet.
Void: According to the Sabil people in the North, in the beginning there was Void. From Void, came everything else. He is the god of darkness, shadows, and order. It is said that only through darkness can there be strength, and to Void and his worshipers, that means order. Void is primarily interested in care and management of society, and is a strong believer in the preservation of order; whether this is carried out in a tyrannical or benevolent manner is up to the interpretation.
The All: The brother of Void. The All is a collective intelligence, worshiped widely through the kingdom in more infamous company. The All is a network of spies, and secrets. The All is interested in the collapse of the old and replacement with a new society in which subtlety and knowledge are valued more than might. The Sabil people reject him, calling him the 'crazed chaos.' The All is an anarchistic, clever, and scheming deity.
Justicine: The dragon goddess of the Middle Continent. Intelligent, charismatic, and a fair fighter, she values valour and justice, and has many knightly orders devoted to her. Justicine is devoted to the protection of the weak and the vanquishing of evil, but she wants to go about it in a peaceful and just manner. She clashes with the chaotic beliefs of The Chapel, and believes that everybody can be redeemed.
Minor Deities Available Upon Request.
BIOSHEET Name: (Name and Title (If Applicable)) Gender: (Boy? Girl? Both? Neither?) Race: (Anything but Elves!) Age: (Self explainatory) Appearance: (Are you a beauty or a beast?) Personality: (A general overview of your personality) Nation of Origin: (Choose from Above) Profession: (Whether you're a warrior, a noble, a mage...etc.) History: (Backstory for how you got where you are. Details are great!)
Appearance: A young man with an angular face and hollows around his eyes. He has jaw-length black hair with some waves in it. His eyes are a very pale green, nearly hazel. He looks a bit sallow and a little underfed, but has some sinewy muscle that makes up his frame. He occasionally gets mistaken for a Northerner,
which he doesn't appreciate.
Personality: Naithi has a shy, guarded personality. He doesn't make friends easily, not because he's unfriendly to them, but because he rarely speaks. Thus, Naithi is a difficult person to get to know, and an even harder person to be-friend. He was known in his army for being soft hearted and gentle - probably better suited for healing than fighting. He joined the military in a fit of bravery, however, and thus is capable of feeling patriotism and pride for his nation, though it's a very subtle aspect of his personality. Difficult to scare, due to his previous stationing.
Nation of Origin: The Northern part of the Middle Continent, though he was stationed in Crescent.
Profession: Private in the Imperial Legion - In service to the Emperor.
Born to a middle class family in the Imperial City, Naithi was a quiet, and peaceful child. His parents both worked in service of the Emperor, his mother was a gifted mage, and his father was a commander in the Legion. Thus, Naithi grew up in the palace and befriended the servants and staff that lived and worked there. He was beloved by them due to his quiet, helpful nature. It was rather expected that Naithi would become a mage one day, and his mother began to teach him some of what she knew of magic.
The boy, however, had no talent for it. He couldn't get a single spell out of him, struggling with something as simple as a Light spell. His mother was worried about him, as he didn't seem to have any trouble with his other studies, but he had an unnatural rejection of magic. Naithi's father then suggested that the boy be enrolled as a squire in the Imperial Legion, as it would help the boy understand that magic wasn't the only way to serve the emperor . At the age of ten, Naithi was shipped off to the preparatory school for Legionaries on the westward coast of the Middle Continent.
As a squire, he was diligent and hardworking, though his mellow nature didn't seem to do him any favors in the sparring ring. He felt no desire to hurt any other human being, and thus, his mode of attack was to block until his opponent got tired and gave up. His instructors tried to compel him to violence, but they were largely unsuccessful. However, Naithi did prove incredible capable at one area of combat; He was an excellent sharpshooter.
His fellows reasoned that it was because he saw it as a game, a desire to hit the innermost ring on the target, rather than to instantly kill somebody but shooting them in the head. He quickly became the best sharpshooter out of the recruits, though in the other areas of combat he lagged far behind.
After a few years of unsuccessful tutoring, Naithi was sent to the continent of Crescent. It is a well known fact that the Legion only sent soldiers to the hazardous lands of Crescent when they were no longer valued. At the tender age of sixteen, Naithi was doomed to die. He occupied the front lines' barrack around an area known as The Empty; a place in Crescent devoid of civilization, with toxic air and wandering monsters. He shared his space primarily with older veterans, too old to be a help in anywhere but The Empty. They affectionately referred to him as Baby Nat, in regards to his relative youth and innocence.
Naithi's first encounter in combat went badly. It had grown dark, and he and some of his bunkmates were on patrol around the border of The Empty. There was a terrible roar, and Neithi was confronted with the most horrible creature he could imagine. It was like a fish, but huge, and with long tentacles that made the grass brown when they dragged across it. It emitted a vibration that made Neithi's head swim, and his elder compatriots fell down and howled; clutching their heads. It had three red eyes, that seemed to radiate malice and insanity. It was covered with a grey mucus that dripped loudly in the quiet night. And then, Naithi heard it spoke. It didn't seem to make sense, at first, but then Naithi was able to hear it clearly as the pain in his head grew worse; You're doomed anyway. I could make you a slave to buy you time, but in the end, it really wouldn't matter. You're not worth it, Scullian.
With that, the pain in Naithi's head receded. His comrades in arms, however, lay on the ground, covered in the grey slime of the beast, clutching at their throats as if they couldn't breathe. Naithi did what anybody would have; he ran. He ran all the way back to the base, found the commander, and burst into tears.
He told the commander what had happened, and promptly passed out; from sorrow, fear, and the lingering pain in his head. He woke up later, in the hospital branch of the base, confused, and sick to his stomach. He was shaken, and was not sent back into combat again.
While recovering, a message arrived for him from a noble in the North. it was an invitation to join him in a journey to save Jord. Naithi mustered his courage, and responded, saying that he would come. He couldn't get the monster's words out of his head. If he was doomed, why not try to do one final good deed before the ultimate, final end.
Appearance: Like her fellows in Chalice, Polythesis is a man-sized specimen of the Chiroptera genus. In other words - she's a bat-like humanoid. Graced with a slender frame, she seems almost fragile when compared to her fellows. Indeed, if one takes the time to touch, they would find her fur-covered flesh wrapped tightly about her. Were it not for her voice and body type, she could be mistaken for a male. Ebon fur wraps her entire body - the only points of color are her two green eyes and the deep red tongue that can be seen among white teeth when she speaks. Tall, jackal-like ears and a ludicrously oversized wingspan denotes his family in Chalice, as do the blue pieces of jewelry she wears. Tattoos cover her leathery wings - a map of the northern skies.
Personality: Despite her dark appearance, Polythesis is open and inviting. While many Chalicites scheme out in the open, she doesn't appear to at all. This is worrisome to most that are familiar with her race. Highly spiritual, she gathers faith from the Astrologer's Pantheon... Worshipping the constellations and stars in the sky. She adores the night sky with all her heart, and dislikes the cavern cities of the Chalicites. She keeps many secrets, and is a confidant for several high-profile individuals. For the most part, many just trust in her prophecies - her grandfather was a great Seer, and she has inherited this. She is secretly exteremely depressed and lonely. She feels caught in her ancestor's shadow - she's "The Seer's Granddaughter", not "Polythesis".
Nation of Origin: Chalice
Profession: Priestess of the Night Sky, Wandering Oracle
Polythesis' story actually begins with her great grandfather, the legendary oracle Le'veral Hestralia. His machinations spanned contients - families alternatively bless and curse his name throughout history... Or at least in the forty or so years he was able. Like all of the Chalice breed, his lifespan was a horribly low amount. While making up for it in ambition and skill... It sometimes was not enough.
Denying himself the eternity of undeath, the man left behind children - who had children of their own. Among these children - cousins of a great sort, is Polythesis. She comes the closest to her grandfather's skill, but is still no match for her ancestor. While Le'veral could accuately predict an event with just a moment's thought, Polythesis requires the night sky as her medium, and it might take several nights to complete a prophecy. Still, she has a very high accuracy rating.
Luckily, she fell back upon the church. Her love of the night sky has taken up a lot of her life... Some say that she loses out on meals, spending entire nights in the sky. Many believe she's be a lot more attractive if she actually ate once in a while. It didn't matter to her - she was doing what she loved. Magic coursed through her, courtesy of her faith. She didn't need much else... Or so she told herself.
Then she began to get the letters. Commoners, nobles, farmers, entertainers... All worried about the future, all probing her for answers. She did the best she could, writing back with her findings - at first, happy to help. But after a while, a few predictions right... She was flooded, swamped with questions. She couldn't take it anymore - none of these people wanted her! They wanted answers... They wanted her grandfather. On the verge of a breakdown, she was eventually addressed by a servant...
A letter, from her grandfather. Sealed until the exact date. The letter said "I'm sorry. It's not your fault, little one. Go North, and find your own path. No one controls you but you. - Your Grandfather". The next letter was from her grandfather's childhood friend, Lord Wolperting of the North.
She left Chalice by the power of her own wings, emboldened by the night.
I require a filled out version of the character sheet above, including a backstory. That's about it. C:
I suppose that race wise, we have some unique stuff: Chalicite (Anthro-Bat aristocrats/necromancers), Sabil (Devil-Human nobility/jerks), The Blitz (Anrtho- Rat/Kangroo ex-slaves), and Broadback (Picture vikings.) No elves!
Appearance: Fifna is an interesting beauty, if that’s what you can call it. Her eyes are a stark blue, always a glimmer of personal greed in her eyes. Her mouth, unless she’s pulling some sort of con, is nearly always set in a sneer, and her hair, black dreadlocks, tied into a high pony-tail. Her skin has gained a permanent tan from wandering in the sun most of her life; it’s also why her frame is more athletic than most women her age.
Personality: Her personality is a fit between light and dark. Fifna can be quite snarky to people she doesn’t know or, even, care to get to know. She’s often hard to work with, but she doesn’t let that get in the way of a job. She takes pride in her work, from thieving to mechanical. If, and this is a mighty big if, she takes a liking to you, Fifna is loyal to the bone.
(Yes, Ginko from Mushi-Shi. I think he looks awesome)
Personality: Vindicare prefers to listen first, then question. He has found that people will reveal more when allowed to lead the conversation themselves than when assaulted with questions. Personally, he prefers bribery and trickery to violence, but is not above murder. After all, every once in a while, a piece of information is only valuable if you're the only one who knows about it. Amongst his 'friends', he tends to jump between straightforward and roundabout, making it hard to peg down exactly what he wants out of someone. Unlike other information brokers who do what they do for the money, Vindicare does it simply for the sake of knowledge and secrets. After all, what could be more dangerous than someone who knows everything?
Nation of Origin: The Middle Continent
Profession: Information Broker, Assassin, Shadow Crafter
History: Vindicare led an average life (well, average for an Abomin) in the capital city. Life was uneventful until one day a letter came from the Assassin's Guild, telling him he had been accepted. He spent several years there, and eventually graduated, using his education as a means to gain a job during the evening shift at the National Archives, Kingsclove. There, he spends his time gathering official information. After his shift, he takes to the streets gathering all the other kinds of information not normally available in the archives. This is also the time he uses to sell said information and perform the occasional hit.
Gender: Male Race: Vorhen - The Vorhen are a proud race. Decendents of their fabled diety 'The Varsch', a race of powerful demi-god mages that held accordance with the creators of Jord. Their very own speakers to the human race. Their culture is ruled by Shamans, acting as leaders of settlements and larger villages scattered across Southern Jord. Much like the ancient elves the Vorhen have inherited a connection with nature, dependant on the forests which provide them with the necessities of life, in return their people protect its boarders. The entirety of the race relies on magic, both nature and elemental for daily life and combat. Their link with nature is not fatal, however the emotional loss can be unbearable at times. Age: 27 Appearance:
Personality: The hardships from living in the southern forests among the barbaric tribes along with the difficult weather conditions has hardened the young man beyond his years. His father held a high place among the elders in his home village, therefore he was never left wanting, however his disregard for material possesions and the like meant that his early life was no different from any other youngling in the settlement. The young Vorhen's attitude to life is that of the entirety of his race. Death is not to be feared, nor imbraced. To become one with Jord is a blessing. Balian is a man of few words, though very well spoken and extremely well educated in the manner of humanity and their constant need for destruction. His weakness revolves around his homeland and the huge forest which esides there. Every speck of dust breathes life and once that is silenced every single Vorhen feels the extinguished flame of life. Nation of Origin: The South Profession: Battle-Mage History: (i'll add it soon enough. I hope making up my own race and stuff was okay, if its not let ma know.)
TnT: Keep going, looks solid so far.
MeaZ:I'm okay with you having your own race. I'm going to say that there aren't FORESTS, per se in the south. Mostly lava and volcanic stuff. Perhaps change your country of origin to the South of the Middle Continent-- it works better with your personality any way.
Appearance: Unshaven face, shaggy black hair. Brant has a grumpy looking face mixed with an air of buisness like apathy, his dark brown eyes don't project interest unless he's looking at something that interests him. His muscular build is unimpressive and his skin is a pale brown. Wears a long green coat, even when it's hot.
Personality: Not very friendly. He doesn't spend much time talking to people unless it's necessary to his purpose. Most things do not impress him, he won't be interested unless it's some kind of advanced technology or complex mechanism he's curious about. He says what ever he wants despite what ever trouble it may get him in, if it's true anyway. Sometimes he just likes to antagonize people for what ever reason. Usually he likes to do things his own way, he doesn't even know official names for components. Brant has an uncanny intuitivness that also unnerves people, especially when he reveals their true intentions if they have ulterior motives AND he really wants them to leave him alone. Or just to show that he knows their trying to be tricky.
Nation of Origin: The Middle Continent
History: Brant was in an orphanage since he was a baby. His only friend there was a Blitztail, Grent. Grent got Brant interested in mechanisms by breaking a clock and they both put it back together, and it worked afterward. Aside from dismantling many mechanisms in the orphanage to make their own small machines, they both frequently out smarted and puppeted the bullies into fighting each other instead of picking on them. They had massive fun together. Until a new kid pushed Grent into a machine we was examining, causing him to get crushed by the machine's inner working gears. Brant became lost in his world but soon gave himself a purpose, vengeance. Brant set a trap in the new kid's bed and watched him until he sat on the bed. Brant tugged on a hidden thread and watched as two home-made metal clamps swung down from under the bed and close on Zech's (the new bully) legs, breaking his fibula in two places and cutting deeply into his flesh. Brant rolled over and started falling asleep to the screaming of Zech. After that Brant was withdrawn and didn't talk much at all to anybody and spurrned anyone's attempts at friendship. It wasn't until four years later when Brant was thirteen that he got adopted by this surprisingly loving couple who some how saw the gaping chunk missing from his soul. They took him farther up north to a smallish town that had less machinery than he liked. So he improvised. He took things apart and combined them with other components to make other machines. Under the unexpected encouragement of his foster parents he continued doing what he did and pretty soon he had improved most of the small town. He is now thirty five years old and got the letter. At first he discarded it and continued onto his next project. His mom found the letter and pushed Brant to go on, said it would be good for him. After some grumbeling and groaning he gathered up his things, his mom and dad shed some tears, said bye to the town and headed out to help save the world. Such a hassel.