The Tides of Mana OOC

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Snowball, Oct 7, 2016.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.

    • This is the magic wasted land of Garmanic. Long since has the Day of Mana passed and left the lands a caricature of what it once was. The people have rebuilt. Few races live in isolation now: they can no longer afford to live in the altered lands with the magic warped beasts that prowl them.

      Caravans travel with many guards between cities, often composing of the both revered and reviled mages. Their accursed magic is what brought about these dark days after all. Perhaps you came by one of these caravans.

      Or did you dare the ocean? Many whisper of far worse things than the leviathan beneath the churning waves. A brave soul indeed if you came by ship, but they thank the courage. The supplies are precious.

      Or maybe chance simply had you in the city to begin with. We have our share of street rats hobnobbing around the inn. More than a few noblemen bring their ‘work’ here too. One has to wonder what brought your sorts about.

      Enough about that, I suppose, whatever brought your arse around, its in with our lot now. Because it seems whatever has brought us together has a slew of trouble in store for us.


      We begin our adventure in Port Neworth, a city of the Baelmyst situated at ocean's edge. The city is well-populated and sturdy, if a bit leaky. The sewers beneath provide a rich ecosystem for the R.O.U.S.s and whatever other grimy creatures can wade through merrily through the filth. Above, though, the expanse of houses packed tight and leaning against each other here and there are centered foremost about the city's keep and the home of the local blue-blood authority, Earl Baan. From there, the sprawl expands out til it touches sea or wall. The wall of solid timber keeps the dangers of the Baelmyst out and is open only along the guarded gates along the major highways. Along the docks, the redlight district cropped up and amidst it the infamous tavern inn, The Bilgerat Bride. It is near this inn, before the docks, our story begins...

      Perhaps you've always lived within the walls of Port Neworth. Or maybe you've made your life on the road, somehow. Or perhaps you've even found yourself washed in with the most recent rabble the docks could drudge up. Your reasons are your own for why it would pique your interest... Coin, fun or a suicidal deathwish hope at heroics... but it's come to your attention that Earl Baan has issued out a statement of warning about some fiend prowling the street at night and absconding with young victims. Attached to his warning, he has offered out a reward to those who can uncover the mystery behind these disappearances and end them.
      • Welcome to Garmanic here you will find background information about the regions of Garmanic and some the world’s history! No, not everything, but enough to introduce you and let you run with!
        • Garmanic was a rich planet full of life and divided by race, so it was said to be, by will of the Manica gods. Though many might dispute it, few can stand up against the evidence that the Manica are the eldest race, born of the very planet. With the birth of the races and their bling groping into their new world; so passed the first era.

          It was not long before the races established their divisive lines. Dynasties rose and fell in the blink of an eye. The most successful of which built their cities upon places of power, the very springs from which mana welled up from. They utilized the natural power sources in a way that powered their cities. Some even developed technologies that accessed the powers of mana.

          However as they began to reach a peak of power, many of these power nations found themselves in a struggle for superiority and went to war. It was a rush for the strongest utilization of mana power. It was not long before it reached its peak.

          The Day of Mana: the day on which one city pushed too far and ultimately tapped into the deepest reserves of their mana spring. It resulted in a geyser of magic that flooded forth and spilled out over the land and connected with the other wells, effecting worldwide. Not all were spared from the cataclysm. Many became ill with the Dreamer Disease. They would fall into a slumber and never wake.

          There were, of course, other effects of the mana blight. Some individuals now found themselves capable of manipulating mana to their will. The landscape had been devastated and shifted, it was a new world for many. The wildlife that survived the affair was now a twisted shadow of what it once was.

          Such fiends has forced what has survived to band together. What countries remained have held together, if barely. Cities are now thrive as having the relative safety of numbers whole townships value every warrior and mage that their poor lands can scrounge together.

        • [​IMG]
          1. Albraz Cordillera
          The Albraz Cordillera are the tallest mountain chain in the world that once
          boasted many great civilizations. With the day of mana, it was amongst the first to be incapable of supporting civilization as the mountain grew too treacherous. The great city of Gargonhaldt was abandoned and has fallen to ruins. Of the mountains, the least treacherous of ways is Taeviel’s Crossing, the pass that connects east and west. Those of more stern stuff might attempt the ways through The Gibbering Mines, but few can stand the echoes of mana that whisper endlessly through their passages.
          2. Sea of Didojik
          Named after Emperor Didojik, the Sea of Didojik once represented a time of trade and prosperity for the lands of Enruba. Still, it offers a passage to them, but it offers its own dangers. Still, there are those that would dare the The Blightmire rather than take passage across the Sea of Didojik and tempt the spirits.
          3. Enruba
          The wasted lands, or otherwise known as the desert empire, it was the lands least effected by the mana blight. It has bloomed like a desert flower, capitalizing on the misfortune of the other lands. Unlike in many lands where the mana-ravaged beasts flourish, in the desert, man has learned to reign supreme. In their oasis cities they have developed vertical agriculture systems and waterways, and the crown jewel of these cities is the capital, Kor-Haptep.
          4. Rorchereal Tundra
          The northern lands of snow and ice, the Rorchereal Tundra lends itself to the hardiest of stock. Wintry nomadic tribes make their homes on the Tundra ice. Many tales crop up about the barbaric north and those that make their homes there. Of these tales the most famous is The Epic of Fjörgur, a great warrior of the north and his battle to seal the Bantredyne.
          5. Dyrden Ocean
          Consuming much of the planet’s surface, the Dyrden holds many of Garmanic’s dangers and mysteries. Of course it is the fastest way to travel between the nations, using Mercuil as a landing point between the ways. However, the depths holds many-a-sea monstrosity for the daring sailor. Many sailors whisper of a mana-contorted leviathan within the depths. Those that might confirm such a thing have perished beneath the churning waves.
          6. Mercuil
          The blighted kingdom, Mercuil is world renowned as the lands that brought about the Day of Mana. It was through their actions that that the mana blight has come to pass upon the world and it is their lands that the effects of the taint is most apparent. Beasts were mutated most dangerously on this continent, the capital of Rah’Vello was destroyed, and they suffered losses by the masses. Due to the dangerous nature of the continent, the population congregated to the few cities that existed. Most fell. The ones that survived built walls to survive, the greatest of which being the coastal city of Selhalune.
          7. Southern Wastes
          The southern arctic continent, it is all but a frozen desert consisting of blizzards and dangerous hidden drops into ice caves that could collapse upon unsuspecting travelers at any moment. The icy climate offers little in the way of survival to those who would brave it, even the most resilient of mana fiends struggle to survive here.
          8. Vossheim
          Vossheim is a land of relative flatness. To the south are the mires that lead out from Baelmyst, within which reagents for powerful potions can be found. To the north are great grasslands. Of this area, the dry brush oft catches catches ablaze into out of control
          wildfire across the planes. For this reason, the cities are constructed of stone and built aside water sources, so that mages might combat the rampaging infernos. Most renowned for having much of the city burned down twice over and still raising from the ashes is the capital, Caville.
          9. Ogdyn Sea
          A vast sea between the regions of Vossheim and Baelmyst, it was carved out by super-massive glaciers that retreated over the landmass north in the early ages of history that gouged out deep holes in the earth, and deposited sediment and meltwater. Due to this the waters support a healthier than normal algae life that make the waters appear green. Aside from that, the Ogdyn Sea boasts thriving fishing communities upon many of its shores, being the safest of any of the great bodies of water.
          10. Baelmyst
          There is a disputation over how the Baelmyst got its name. Some say it was from a great tragedy long ago that cursed the lands. Others say it has just always been evil. Either way, the region is shrouded in an ever present mist. Before the Day of Mana, the mist was thought of as a guardian presence that protected those who lived within from invading forces. Since then, it has taken on a more sinister nature, befuddling travelers who do not ward their way with magic, oft leading them to prey to the beasts or spirits of the forest. Of the cities, Fort Xandra is the most populous of the region, having been the fortress home built by a proclaimed guardian of the woods. Our story, of course, starts in Port Neworth
          11. Trenlow Sound
          The Sound settles between Baelmyst and and the lands surrounding the Albraz Cordillera. Of the seas, it is the one most populated by mana twisted fauna. The most infamous of these creatures exist along Widow Ridge where the creatures conjure the illusion of sailors lost at sea to tempt widowed women to jump to their deaths, dashed upon sharp rocks below.

        • Mercuil
          To the people of the rest of the world, those of Mercuil are seen in a mysterious and supernatural light and tales abounds are held of them. This is not surprising as of the other nations it is the most isolated from the others. Though foreigners will visit their land, namely the city of Selhalune where they dock to replenish supplies before continuing their voyages, they do not travel beyond the walls or seek exceptional interaction with these people. Many still hold hard feelings for the mana blight. However, that is not to say all the stories are uncalled for or untrue. Those from Mercuil are known for their habits of odd medicines, consuming plants and unusual parts of mana fiends. Unlike most of the world that fears spirits and seek to exorcise them, those of this country welcome them into their body, believing that it is their ancestors honoring them and through this they will guide, empower and protect. Since the initial outbreak of Dreamer's Disease, where their country suffered the most who fell to its clutches, it has tapered off into the rarest of cases. Of the nations, they have the lowest rate of those to appear with talent and fewer yet to achieve great power with it. It is just as well, as they have a strong loathing of the practice, believing it to be a sign of a tainted spirit.

          The people of Mercuil live in houses of either gong, an, or asuka stylings depending on the region. Typically, there is a stone shrine built to the ancestors within these homes. Their cities, the only part of the myōden left that were once controlled by the daimyos of the hegemon, are no longer in their rule. Though they are still considered noble families, they had long been stripped of their power for the events that led to the Day of Mana and a meritocracy was instituted.

          The people, always natural in the ways of battle and martial by nature, have adjusted well to the new fight against the mana fiends. With the culling of their population, however, they found a blessing in their traditional matriarchal society. Everyone who could be capable of wielding a weapon needed to be capable of doing so, and men and women have long since fought side-by-side. Of these weapons, the most identifiable by those of other nations are their curved blades of polished folded steel. However, they are avid users of polearms and heavy mechanical bows. Unlike in other countries, iron is less commonly found here, having to be extracted through burning it out of peat in small quantities. This has caused them to develop ō-yoroi armour made of leather, woods and small plates and bands of steel in order to compensate.
          The land of Vossheim is best described as being divided between two separate groups. The first of which would be what the rest of the world consider the 'civilized' Voss, though it is a widely held belief that you cannot trust a man of Voss. Civil Voss is ruled by a Tsar and the line of succession flows through the son. Luckily, the Voss are known for producing large families because assumption of the right to rule is highly sought after and if someone is not bringing the country to a small civil war for their own right to rule, assassination attempts and the occasional battlefield 'accident' when the next in line is thought more fit to rule is a timeheld tradition leading to rulership exchanging hands often enough. Those of civil Voss are monotheistic, worshiping Vhors, a god of battle, storms and master of all waters. They pray to him before every battle for victory, for rain and for the damned Northmen to stop raiding every winter. Overall, civil Voss are a stubborn breed who are never to be bullied about or likely to give in, even when their door has been beaten down by a man of the tundra for the fourth year running.

          'Wild' Voss comprise of nomadic horse tribes who in history divided from their brethren to practice religious freedoms. Many of them have adopted different beliefs, but a commonality between all is cairn worship. These cairns are placed along many common travel routes and it is common practice to stop at each and offer a tribute. While some might deposit coin or baubles if they believe to have read a bad omen, most will leave an offering of food and drink for the next traveler to come by. Doing this is believed to provide for good luck and safe passage and ward off evil spirits on their journeys. Shamans are common among the tribes and are thought to have some measure of power over spirits, having an otherworldly connection between this world and the next. They also provide healing services and serve to interpret omens people have seen in the world and their dreams.

          The region as a whole is known for their love of riding creatures. The more stubborn the creature is to tame, the more respect they have to be able to ride it. One of the symbols of a master rider is a ursine mount. However, there are old tales of times when people once rode griffins into battle.

          "The secret is, son, you need to look into his eyes and let him know who really calls the shots around here." -A great Voss father, teaching his son to ride a Artôrwulf
          Rorchereal Tundra
          The Northmen are a people made of piss and ice, the rest of the world would say. This may be infamy garnered from their inclination of setting raiding parties in the harsh winters, some of which are against other lands but even other clans of the north fall victim to it. When deciding not to bear shield and axe and steal what they need to survive these times of scarce food, it is not unheard of for clans to band together for the purpose of taking down massive game to divide the spoils. Come springtime, they find that the ice has thawed enough to fish and that the grampus are swimming close to the shore and even up the rivers, making it easy for them to harpoon from their skin boats. Little of animals go to waste. Leathers and hides are common in attire. Even the bones prove useful, particularly those of large mana fiends as they can stretch leather over them to make their summer tents. During the winter months, however, their homes are icy igloos.

          Many of the Tundra are contented with their lives as roaming hunters and surviving off of the land. It is not unheard of that one will grow tired of the endless snow and ice and travel the world, plying their trade for those who will pay. However, there are those more mercantile might offer their services on a vessel, traveling to another land. There they would sell their furs, scrimshaw and other northern trinkets and return home with much needed supplies to make life easier. Other practices include marriages that last for a contractual length of time. Upon their end the two parties can choose to renew their vows or part ways. Arranged marriages and the the tradition of "stealing a mate" (one that displays superiority and worthiness to wed) from other tribes prevents genetic stagnation. Northmen, as a burial rite, burn their dead in a funeral pyre as a sacred use of the sparse wood this much of this region produces in order to honor them. However, they do not believe in gods or an afterlife and believe in the power of man, and celebrating life.
          In the land of Enruba, ritual blood sacrifices of sacred stock are given to the mana spring that the imperial estates surround and the grand temple is housed over. Mana technology is still utilized heavily here, potential consequences unheeded and many devote their entire lives to develop the next thing that will revolutionize the world. They revere Manica as living deities and as such treat any who visit with utmost hospitality, paying homage to them in food, housing and gifts. Ceremonies are performed upon death to assure that spirits reach the afterlife and their bodies are fed through mana machines that produce geodes, turning the body to crystals. In this way, they feel they have reached an end as the Manica have.

          The empire is ruled by the Emperor, who appoints his own Grand Vizier. Many more Viziers operate within each city-state of the empire. Of all the regions, it is by far the most rich and opulent, the richest temples are said to be plated with gold and the walls embedded with crystals. They are also the most afforded to scholarly practices and in the capital have a great capital built up from hundreds of years. Agriculture and gardening are central to the land and are the pride of Enruba as it symbolizes their conquering of the desert and their god's triumph over death. Many will go so far as to import rare flora from other lands in order to make their personal gardens more impressive and it is a great insult to suggest their garden left wanting. Many Enrubians have a vast superiority complex when it comes to other countries, and even among those of different social strata. One such example is their regards to traders. Many would not even consider the life of a trader afar in Enruba, if not just because it demands one leaves what they believe to be the chosen land, but because they regard it a profession for liars, cheaters and greedy men.

          Punishments can be severe within the empire for crimes. Bodily punishment is not uncommon. In some instances, 'an eye for an eye' is a principal held, much in the case of stealing where one might lose a hand. For crimes severe such as murder, execution or serfdom are the verdict. Those who owe a great debt might forfeit themselves to an indentured servitude to work off their debts.
          The Baelmyst, even before the Day of Mana, the entire region has been seeped in magic and strange occurrences that defy the laws of nature. A shroud of ever present mist is the indicator for when one enters it's borders. In the past before the Day of Mana the settlements and signs of civilization that were housed within the confines of the mist were not the most wealthy or perhaps large, and to this day they fancy themselves as woodsmen even if they have retreated within cities. But the people who made their living there were content, believing the mist that never vanished protected them from outside invaders. Oh there are tales aplenty, ask any old crone or wise man and he will tell you of many a legend, myth or fable of something odd, strange or otherworldly happening to those who venture off the established paths through the mist and who go deeper. Tales of the passing of time acting strange, a journey that should take you only a week might take a month or you arrive at your destinations within hours.

          Those tales were scarce, but when the Day of Mana came and all Mana wells across the world changed, they warped their surroundings with effects that would not be felt for generations to come. Within the Baelmyst the mist shroud that most folk thought as protecting them became a more grim place for those who live there and travel through. Strange noises first ever heard when one was deep within the confines of the mist could now be heard at the edges of settlements. Children and adults alike who would be at the edge of town might end up missing, their loved ones haunted by singing in the voice of their missing relative from the fog, and when they go out and find the origin of the voice they too disappear. There are places where the mists seems to whisper in your head, filling your mind with words of madness or booming laughter.

          In the past a fortress had been built by proclaimed guardian of the woods, the name of this fortress: Fort Xandra. Many flocked to this site for the protection it offered and it has grown considerably since the time of its founding. The guardian has long since vanished or passed away and now it is ruled by a man proclaiming himself Ard Ri, high king of the Baelmyst. For a long time the various settlements within the confines of the Baelmyst stood alone, valuing their freedom but now a man has arisen to power in Fort Xandra with a purpose to unite the settlements in one nation and under his rule. Several settlements have flocked to him for the protection he claims to offer for the ever increasing threat from within the mist but others refuse, stating that they have protected themselves for generations without a king on a throne.

          Most of the settlements refusing the newly self-crowned ruler seem to be in fact trying to find ways to co-exist with whatever manner of beasts or spirits lurk within the mist around them. Leaving gifts and offerings at the edge of town believing by doing that they will be left alone and spared from the darker horrors that lurk within. Some even go as far as to sacrifice animals or even their fellow townspeople. Some volunteer for that honour while others... not so much. The people are highly superstitious and suspect many things that do not seem as they should, a trait instilled by their mothers and fathers sitting them down as wee babes and sharing with them tales and fables.

          'The tale of Fabian, as heard told by a old sage in the town of Darkring.'

          Gather 'round children, gather 'round... my bones are old, my eyes dulled but I have seen and heard much in my youth and I shall tell you now the tale of Fabian, to enrich your fantasies, but also to warn you for what arrogance and greed may lead you to...

          Fabian, oh sweet and innocent Fabian, born a blessed child but became twice blessed due to arrogance and ignorance. The golden haired boy, the pride of his parents, the envy of his friends. All who knew him, loved him and he in turn loved all who paid attention to him. He was the son of the alderman and anything he wanted he would get from his parents or the other townsfolk. His beauty was unmatched by any of his age or ever witnessed before. 'Touched by the spirits he is!' They cried in adoration! 'A blessed child of the gods, a blessing for our entire village!' Shouted others.

          And he was a blessing, bringing joy and laughter as he grew up to all who met him, but with age he grew arrogant and fat upon the adulation of the village and always expected to get what he wanted. Be it a sweet stick from the baker, or some fresh sausages of the butcher. He even once commanded his father to hose a festival in Fabians honour! And the folk of the village went along with it, because they truly believed that Fabian was blessed by the forest spirits and that if they kept him happy, the village would thrive as it had been since his birth.

          Then one day, a travelling musician came through the village. His voice like an angel, the music coming from his flute brought out emotions long buried in any who heard it to the fore and men and women alike cried openly feeling their moods brightened and hearts yearning for more. But then the musician stopped playing and retrieved a wrapped parcel from his back, upon unwrapping it he revealed a very simple harp, no gold or silver embellishments, no artistic cut of the wood. It simply appeared to be a harp and then it began to play, by itself. And the music of the harp transcended to what the musician played moments earlier on his flute. Images of feasts from ancient times accompanied the music in the minds eye of all who heard it and danced to the tune until the entire village was dancing and feasting through the course of the night. Until finally at dawn, the mist miraculously lifted briefly so the rays of the sun could unobstructed touch the harp as it let out a final note.

          All applauded and cheered and then a voice broke through, heard by everyone. 'I want that harp!' Fabian shouted, his arms crossed and looking at the harp with greed. The crowd murmured, looking from Fabian to the musician who looked surprised and shook his head. 'I am afraid I cannot sell nor give away this item. For you see it is not mine to give. I am merely its caretaker.' He said with a apologetic smile.

          'I want it!' Fabian shouted angrily and looked at his father who nervously swallowed and addressed the musician. 'Where is this owner then perhaps I can pay him to keep the harp.'

          The musician shook his head amused, 'she who owns the harp has no want for money, gold or riches. All she wishes is her music to be heard. To bring joy and dance. That is her reward. I travel with her from town to town, village to village. And she will play everywhere to be heard so that all may enjoy and experience her gift. So she cannot stay in one place.'

          'I don't care! I want it!' Came Fabian's shout once more and the village folk murmured louder, they had always given the blessed child whatever he wanted, never had someone refused him. The musician no longer smiled, shaking his head. 'Young man she only plays when she wants and what she wants is to travel across the realm. You cannot change what is meant to be.' The musician stated calmly and went to wrap the harp back into cloth.

          Fabian looked flabbergasted, nobody refused him! Nobody told him he could not have what he wanted! A rage came over him and he charged out of the throng of people at the musician. All were frozen with shock at what was happening and the musician was as surprised as any as Fabian slammed into him and both of them fell to the ground as Fabian, the blessed child began hitting the musician with his fists, over and over. The weather darkened and a strong, cold wind swept up around the village. Fabian stood up as a lightning strike thundered and boomed nearby, his fists red with blood, the musician lying broken on the ground in the village center. Triumphant he reached for the harp. 'I am the blessed child and I always get what I want!' He laughed with wide eyes as he grabbed the harp and held it aloft. 'Play! I wish to hear the music!'

          No music came and more thunder strikes hit the area around the village, the villagers themselves looking on at the grisly scene in the center with open mouths, frozen in shock at what they had witnessed their blessed child do. 'Play! I said play damn you!' Fabian shouted and cursed, shaking the harp that was still silent. With a scream of rage he brought harp down on the ground and with a might crash it broke apart on the ground. 'If you will not play for me then you will not play for anyone!' Fabian shouted at the crowd.

          The words left his lips as a enormous bolt of lightning smashed down upon the pieces of the harp which started to burn to ash, the smoke twirling, rising in a enormous shape that began to take solid form... as a spirit of the forest came into being. She let out a scream that made the ground tremble and houses collapse, sinkholes opened underneath people who fell into their depths. Many ran, away from the village into the mist which had gotten thicker and was suddenly filled with the sounds of gibbering and cackling voices before the screams of the villages drowned them out.

          The spirit stopped screaming her burning gaze looking at all who remained before looking upon Fabian and she spoke directly into the minds of all present, bringing them to their knees as the voice in their heads was loud enough to deafen them. "A claim of a blessed child that was never blessed, a arrogance of your own creation. This boy is not blessed he shall be cursed and this village as well, twice cursed you all are and twice cursed you all shall remain till my music shall once more play!" She waved with her hand and before Fabians eyes the villagers that had remained, his own father and mother included, twisted and turning into malformed monstrosities of man and tree. As their transformation was finished and they all howled with pain and anguish the spirit turned to Fabian. "You shall forever know thirst, hunger and suffering. You shall not rest nor find bliss in dying of old age. You shall live forever, hunted by those who fed your arrogance to be torn apart at midnight only to be be brought back at dawn to start the cycle anew! Always shall you return here at the place of your crime and you shall forever be haunted by what you have done!" With a crack of thunder the forest spirit vanished, leaving Fabian in the middle of the ruined village center as the twisted forms of what were once his fellow villagers, his worshipers, began to move with purpose towards him, hatred burning in their glowing eyes. And then he screamed, for the first time, the first time of many as each dawn he would be reborn and the cursed villagers would hunt him again to tear him apart limb from limb over and over.

          So hear me well children, never let arrogance and greed blind you.... and if a golden haired young man asks you for refuge and safety for the night. Refuse him and close the door, for what may be hunting him will kill any who dare stand in their path....

      • Welcome to the character design tab!

        I'm sure most of this is pretty self-explanatory by now and if you're having any struggles be sure to contact me with any questions. There are a few areas, however, that I would like to review briefly, though: Race, Strengths/Weaknesses, and Inventory.

        Race: As described in the FAQ, I only have one race created for the world at this time and the rest are your typical fantasy world races. If you have in mind a custom race you would like to play, please discuss with me the attributes of the race and where they might originate from so that I might incorporate them into the world.

        Strengths/Weaknesses: I have in the CS 3 strengths and 3 weaknesses required. However, this is not the limit of the strengths/weaknesses your character is allowed. The general rule of thumb is to keep it balanced. With each sphere of a strength, attempt to give them a weakness that would be of equal value. However, please attempt to limit weaknesses from crippling your characters. If they are not able to effectively participate throughout the roleplay with their peers or go on the journey, then it probably begins to give you an idea of where the line is being drawn on these characters.

        Inventory: I'm not exactly asking to know everything that is in your pockets here. Just a rough outline of major items that you would have on you that your character would find of value to them and utilize in various situations.

        Character Sheet



        • Feature 1: Details
        • Feature 2: Details
        • Feature 3: Details
        • Feature 1: Details
        • Feature 2: Details
        • Feature 3: Details
        Key Inventory
        • Weaponry:
        • Armory:
        • Tools:
        • Personal:

        Copy-paste Friendly
        [*]Feature 1: Details
        [*]Feature 2: Details
        [*]Feature 3: Details
        [*]Feature 1: Details
        [*]Feature 2: Details
        [*]Feature 3: Details
        [b]Key Inventory[/b]

      • Welcome to the Records tab! Here you will find information on people, locales and factions you have discovered.
        • You know no one yet!
        • You know no places yet!
        • You know no factions yet!
        • As the story progresses, major events will be chronicled and the story will be recorded in an easy to read synopsis so that players and readers alike can reference the information at their convenience! Canonically Coming of Mana has 3 acts planned. However, these acts can change, depending upon the players.
      • Welcome to the Frequently Asked Questions tab of the post! Here you might be able to find some of your questions answered regarding the roleplay that other roleplayers, like you, have asked at one point. If it has not been asked yet, don't worry, contact me!

        How does a mage's mana pool work?
        Your body can contain so much mana at a time without it being dangerous. Some individuals have trained themselves to have a greater capacity over time to hold more through training each day, trying to inwardly channel it from the surroundings. You won't necessarily tire yourself or injure yourself to use your reserve, you'll just feel the chamber run to empty. Those who attempt to reach beyond their capacity and channel too much mana find themselves experiencing an effect called 'mana burn' where it begins to release as raw energy from their body that causes real harm to the individual.

        Outside of combat, active channeling can replenish a portion of your reserves if you've been given a brief respite. Some alchemy involves the fluid from the mana springs, so it wouldn't be a stretch to suppose that they would replenish the body, though they are probably tainting in too often a period and potentially addicting with the rush of power.
        What races are there in Garmanic?
        There is only one race that I have created for Garmanic. That is the Manica race. They are a humanoid race of various flesh tones and hues with gem protrusions from their body. While the youngest and most passable for human merely have their heart stone, the eldest find themselves 'returning to mana', their bodies becoming large crystals.

        Aside from that, I will operate along with very recognizable races for the most part. You will see your typical fantasy elves, dwarves, orcs and so on. That is not to say you have to play these races, though! Feel free to create your own race, provide information for me to work upon so that I can incorporate them into the world. Just understand that I might have to make some adjustments to make them fit just a little bit. Your character with your race may not have every property they are known for upon entrance.
        What sort of creatures can I expect from this roleplay?
        I'm not going to start throwing a bunch of brand new creatures at you without any background whatsoever to work off of. I intend to look for some creatures that in some way have been altered from some of our classical fantasy monsters and introduce to you our favorites in a new light. Not just fantasy creatures but some of our the natural beasts that fantasy worlds overlooked that could have become a greater threat given the right forces.

        Don't worry though. You still have a background to fall back on. There was a time when dragons soared through the skies, krakens ruled the seas and goblins were the scourge of every young adventurer.
        Okay, really. When was the Day of Mana?
        Roughly 260 years ago.
        Just what will our choices mean?
        Your choices mean they can take the roleplay into new and unexpected directions. You can take the roleplay off the path of the canon story and craft a story of your own, flipping off events unfolding in the world. Each choice you make will have a far-reaching effect that will ultimately decide the end result of this story. You don't have to be the noble heroes, even. You can be that evil bastard at the end of the day. It all just depends on the choices you make.

    • REVISED ON 22 OCTOBER 2016
      The rules are as follows:

      1. Follow Iwaku's Site Policies and we’ll all be just peachy.
      2. Reiterating Iwaku's Site Mechanics Policy: The GM's word is law. I have the final decision in all things of the RP from executing something in the IC to kicking a player from the RP.
      3. Follow basic RP etiquette, that is to say, do not: use meta-knowledge, godmode, puppet others' characters, auto-hit, hog the spotlight, etc.
      4. Don’t be an arse. Don’t carry qualms about the RP out and about. Just don’t. We all know sometimes we get our knickers in a bunch about this stuff from time to time, but we can all be mature about it and go to our brooding corners.
      5. Try and have at least legible spelling and grammar. I know mistakes happen, I’m not asking perfection.
      6. Try and keep up with the RP. Official GM posts advancing the plot will happen once weekly. The hopes is that all players will manage to post once each round. This is not a hard rule. Players are permitted to post as they see appropriate in order to advance interactions and scenes. As well, I understand not everyone will be able to post every single week.
      7. That said, if you are going to be gone for an extended time from the RP, CONTACT ME. Tell me what is happening. That way, we will not have to worry about a hiccup from your character and maybe we can even arrange an excuse for why your character is gone and bring you back when you are less busy!
      8. Death can occur in this RP. It is not my absolute goal to murder-rape-kill your characters but bad things might happen to them. There may be some content you might be uncomfortable with from time to time given the dark setting. I aim to take this setting seriously but not drown you all in doom and gloom and horror.
      9. Talk to me and your fellow RPers! This is a group activity. Your characters should interact! You should talk to me, I would enjoy hearing ideas from my players, they might be incorporated, who knows!
      10. The roleplay will incorporate mature themes that not all readers may find themselves comfortable with. That is not to say that the RP will devolve ultimately to grimdark brutality or erotica, but content of both axis are permitted.
        10a. Sexual content is to fall in line with The Iwaku FAQ #31. That is to say, all sexual content is to be put within a spoiler and labeled with a content warning (and age group restrictions still apply).
        10b. Following in line with The Iwaku FAQ #33, in regards to graphic content, it is important to use judgment calls and when content could cause other to become very uncomfortable, to place the content within spoilers and label it with an appropriate content warning.
      11. Failure to comply with the rules of the RP can result in consequences up to and including being kicked from the RP or reported to staff.
    • Active Characters
      Ailigtriona 'Alex' Somer by @Aenimus
      Amarsin 'Azzy' Orchamis by @Slade
      Terry Sullen by @Jakers
      Khalil 'Al-Ahmaq Alkhadhib' Al-Habib by @VerbalAbuse
      Eris Stoneheart by @VerbalAbuse
      Hainsarku by @Fetzen
      Morohtar Haldir by @~\The Talentless/~
      Ghazal Shadlyah by @DustBunny
      Lady Tamia Revalyen by @Selvi
      Brunhilde Oghwynsdóttir by @Andrea
      Aellor Skyrend by @Kadaeux [Pending]
      Kayto by @Gat [Pending]

      Inactive Characters
      None as of yet

      Dead Characters
      None as of yet
    #1 Snowball, Oct 7, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 24, 2016
    • Love Love x 5
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  1. Personal

    Name: Ailigtriona "Alex" Somer
    (Al-ik-TREE-uh-na SAH-mur)
    Age: 29
    Sex: Female
    Race: Human
    Appearance: For a woman, she is tall, standing just shy of 6 feet and she is of a slight and soft build. Her face is full and featuring a pair of grey eyes. Her hair is long, falling down past her shoulders in auburn waves, though it is usually up in a bun. She typically wears loose clothes, comfortable and practical for the convenience of travel and performance.

    Personality: On the surface, Alex is a rather aloof and merry soul. She carries herself in a carefree and whimsical manner and enjoys to go about making light of situations or making idle flirtations. She is outgoing and enjoys the center of attention more than a little, but is quick to make her way into the background when situations leave her area of comfort.

    Biography: Near the shores of the Ogdyn Sea, cusping the border to Vossheim, Alex was the youngest born of four in the fishing village of Anson’s Rest. Her mother, Aisling, was a kindly woman, who took happily to the role of housekeeper and caregiver for her young children. Her husband, Gabhan, was not a rich man but served his best to provide for his wife. During the day, he worked worked the docks, doing various odds and ends where he could for pay. Come night, though, the children would flock with him to the tavern as he entranced the crowds with word, song and magic.

    It was not the most extravagant of lives, and sure enough when the eldest pair of sons reached of age, they joined him at the docks to pay their way. It was a content, cozy life, though. Alex was always entranced by tricks of illusion her father her father used to infuse his stories with an extra touch. From a young age, she watched him and tried to mimic him and many a times had her hands swatted and was scolded for messing with things she nary understood. It was not until she reached her early teen years and she still showed no signs of relenting that Gabhan finally took the young girl under his wings and began to teach her his secrets.

    The years were taking their toll on her father and the work on the docks left him increasingly tired. Alex, in an effort to ease the toll that the magic took on her father joined him in his performances as his assistant, knowing them by rote after a lifetime of hanging onto his every word. It didn't appear to be enough, though. The old man grew weaker and weaker until there came a night, he went to sleep and never woke.

    It was hardship from there. Alex and her second oldest attempted to make do and assist her mother, but their young age and situation afforded them little mercy. It culminated, ultimately, in her mother beginning to submit to the romantic advances of a Vossheim trader, Veniamin, who passed through their village regularly on his travels. Alex was 16 when her mother remarried and her life forever changed as they packed up and moved to Vossheim.

    The brittle, charred grasslands of Vossheim were an unwelcome adventure as she reminisced often of the rich, green highlands that met the Ogdyn Sea. The only thing that appeared to ease her sorrows was as they were greeted by the twin daughters of the Voss trader at his estate, Galira and Malvina. It was perhaps the beginning of Alex' career in capturing both hearts and wonder. The pleasant twins were happy to delight in Alex' company as she practiced attentively the craft her father left her. As the way with youth, though, passions mounted and it ended as Veniamin walked in upon Alex entangled with the pair.

    Veniamin was vehement and flew into a great rage at the sight. If he could have gotten his hands about Alex' throat, he would have strangled her then and there... And he nearly did. Within an inch of her life after Veniamin had tore after her through the house and finally pinned her down in the kitchen to wring the life from her, her hand strained to and found a knife and lashed out. She gash across the trader's face who roared out in pain and released her.

    She fled from that house that day. Half-dressed and in the middle of a Voss summer, she was not bound to get far. To leave the city without a mage of some potency to protect from the hazards of the sudden grass fires was dangerous. Instead, she found herself hopping a fence and attempting to lie low in a family's stables. So new to the lands, she had scarce an idea the great love the Voss had for their mounts.

    It was a lesser noble woman by the name of Rada Tsogt who stumbled upon her that day, riddled with scrapes and bruises and scarcely holding herself together with fear and uncertainty. To the current day, Alex is still certain that Rada likely saved her life in that time as she brought her into the fold of her family and protected her from the wrath of her step-father. It was a strange meeting that followed with an even more unlikely relationship. Rada and Alex grew close and infatuated with each other in their time together behind the walls of her family. When it came time that Rada's family was to move, her father promoted for his military prestige, she happily accepted the offer.

    Yet, as it was in the land of Vossheim and its patriarchal system, their relationship was unthinkable. Despite all that kept them apart, still, they made a promise to each other and it was marked with a simple token to keep with each other always and that would go overlooked by all others. Alex, however, grew to become uncertain of this pledge to Rada. Since the move and the elevation of Rada's family, the noble woman had found herself attending court and Alex marked a change in her. Gradually, Rada became more wrapped up in Vossheim politics and the way of the Voss noble class made its mark upon her. Alex, in the absence of her Voss paramour attempted to fill her idle days about the city socializing and spreading her art.

    From the distance between them spawned bitterness and distrust. There ever dwindling time together was filled with fighting and accusations. There came a day that Alex simply had enough and walked off into the city and did not return to Rada's side again. It was years before Alex saw Rada again. It was another city and two strangers with familiar staring back at each other. In Alex' arms, she cradled her infant child, Calum, and softly sung a lullaby to coax him to sleep. From within the home came her husband, Daniil, who kissed her in sight of Rada as the noble made her march to her new estate.

    Rada's scorn broiled from there and in true fashion to that of a Voss blue blood, she struck out without dirtying her own fingers. It was a night like any other when torches were cast through the windows of their home. Alex was quick to grab Calum as Daniil went to storm a path and get the way clear for them both. He was greeted with steel and his screams pierced the night. Alex had but a moment to think before she tapped into her magic to cloak herself and her crying child from harm. As the mercenaries flooded in to sweep clear the house before the fire patrol arrived, Alex slipped past.

    She had no means, no money and nothing to her name as she ran into the night. She understood there would be no safe place for her in the city. To dare the roads alone and at night outside would be the death of her and her child. She ran to the port in her plight and stowed away upon the first ship bound to the Baelmyst come morning. It had been some time, but her youngest brother had sent word that he had set up a life among the mist. There, her and Calum would be far from the reach of Rada and have family to fall back on.

    The journey by ship was a rough one below decks, and, when it was discovered she was on board and with a child it was already too late to send her back to shore. Baby Calum was a welcome presence by all those on-board, but Alex found herself for the first time putting herself through honest work. Come the end of the voyage, though, she had managed to make a number or friendships amidst the crew, including with the captain, Leilani. Her presence was considered welcomed back aboard the ship, provided as a paid passenger or official crew.

    So it was that she arrived in Port Neworth for the first time and sought out to find her brother. She arrived at Greigori's home and was quickly introduced to his wife and children. They took quickly to young Callum and were happy to keep him with them as Alex found work. Unfortunately, she found that her trade did not bring in enough coin. Heartbroken but driven to pull her weight to ease the burden on her brother, she acquiesced to a job on Leilani's ship and found herself protecting the vessel from threats of the deep and pirates alike as it crossed the ocean.

    And now, she is back from one such of these journeys, the ship resting at port as it readies for another passage to Mercuil and beyond.



    • Bardic Wiles: With a tender-plucked lute, rhythmic dancing and entrancing voice, Alexandra is talented in capturing the attention of the masses and wriggling her way into many a heart.
    • Magic Melody: Alex possesses the potential to weave song into magic to procure a variety of effects, including illusions, charms, temporary enchantments and healing.
    • Offensive Competency: She knows her way around a bow and what way to stick, stab, and slice with most basic bladed weapons.
    • Dexterous: She is an acrobatically, accuracy, and swiftness inclined individual.
    • Worldly: She is well-traveled and knows her way around. She has collected her share of knowledge, tales and song.
    • Physically Weak: She lives a comfortable life of a traveling bard, not a warrior. She is not acclimated to fighting up-close and personal, be that dealing or receiving injury.
    • Mana Deficient: She cannot cast often or sustain magic for long. It quickly exhausts her.
    • Peasantry: She grew up among the peasant class, she is neither rich or well-educated. Her name does not carry any positive weight in this world.
    • Ill Repute: She has had a knack for getting into trouble, be that from failing to curb her sharp tongue, wooing the wrong women, or getting caught with her hands in a fat coinpurse. She has found her way onto the 'list' of a number of people in her travels.
    • Moral Ambiguity: She cannot claim to be a saint... Or even at times a moderately decent person. Her moral compass is inclined towards shades of grey.
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: Longbow, Shortsword, Boot Dagger
    • Armory: None
    • Tools: Thieves' Toolkit
    • Personal: Lute, Silver Ring, Gold Ring
    #2 Snowball, Oct 7, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 10, 2016
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  2. Hullo! Interested here.

    I don't know if I missed an Interest Check for this (if there was one), but this looks really neat; I'd be happy to take part and I'm glad I stumbled across this. The sort of genre you've gone for is one of my favorites.

    I'll drop a first-draft CS here if that's alright, and make a lot of changes to it accordingly if necessary. I want to see if what I've got so far is okay before I start writing his backstory. Also, I couldn't find a picture to fit the big guy, so hopefully just a description will suffice!


    Name: Terry Sullen
    Age: 28
    Sex: Male
    Race: Human/Northern
    Appearance: Terry, to say the least, is a giant of a man. He stands at an incredible 7"1, with wide bulky shoulders and chunky arms. His head is wide with a slowly-curving rounded chin, and his face looks oddly young in comparison to his body and age. His skin is pale, suggesting he comes from up North. Whilst not hideous, he isn't the prettiest bloke around, with a slightly flattened nose and a wide mouth, accompanied by a clumsily-shaven collection of stubble around his chin and neck. His short and straight chestnut-brown hair is hand-swept to the right, and his low-set eyes are a hazel-brown. He's usually kitted out in bulky leather armour, strapped up with pouches and packs that somewhat impede his movement, along with his signature sheathed greatsword on his back.
    Personality: Terry is a jolly and amiable fellow, with a surprisingly soft and sensitive heart for a man of his stature. He seems to put others before him in many situations, selfless as he is gullible. Whilst known for his hearty laugh and ability to make light of even the most grim of situations, he's known even more for his low intellect. Terry is uneducated in most fields, and is always one of the last to catch onto something. Whilst not handicapped, it gives him difficulties in many situations. Despite having the traits, gear, and size of a typical mercenary, it's clear there's a lot more to Terry than meets the eye, and he has a curious upbringing for a man such as himself.
    Biography: Born and bred within the Rorchereal Tundra, Terry grew up in a clan that was better-off, well-educated, and much more magically gifted compared to others, making them both a powerful advesary and a useful ally when it came to presence within the Tundra. This clan is known as Lucerna Clan, with a relatively small clan population, open only to exclusive families and completely shut off to strangers. Unlike most other clans, the Lucerna Clan knew how to export goods unique to the North, and knew how to purchase or bribe mercenaries to give them numbers and deter other clans from attacking them.

    The Sullen family was just one of many families with the Lucerna clan, and the Sullen family was regarded as one with the best magical capabilities. They specialized in flesh-based magic, able to regrow the flesh and blood of damaged rapidly to keep soldiers or hunters going in or out of combat. They were knowledgeable and wise, responsible for monitoring mana beast attacks, keeping things organised, and knowing how to treat serious illnesses.

    When Terry was raised, he was expected to be able to do the same. Instead, however, he grew up in exactly the wrong way his parents wanted him to.

    The first immediate problem with Terry was that he had major learning difficulties. Whilst most other members of the Lucerna clan knew how to write, read, and know various languages for diplomatic benefits, Terry couldn't even spell four-letter words until he was about eleven years old. The second immediate problem with Terry was that his ability to channel mana was extremely stunted, and even after a rigorous six years of training, his father gave up trying to train him when he was seventeen. Terry lacked the qualities of a Lucerna clan member. He liked to talk and flirt with the 'dirty outsider girls' that exported goods from outside the North. He would often let animals run free when checking traps. And he was just always making clumsy, stupid, mistakes.

    After a long chat within the clan, it was obvious that Terry had to go. Whilst he was strong, kindhearted, and a great entertainer, skills such as that just weren't valued in his society. He was a liability, and a disappointment to his parents. When he was eighteen, his parents explained to him the situation, and he was evicted on horseback from the tribe with barely enough supplies to get him onto another job or society. Terry shed tears and didn't fully understand, but his parents, in honesty, were overall glad to see him gone after all the dishonour and embarrassment he'd caused.

    The horse soon gave up after days of running, and Terry was left to wander in a world outside of the snow he was used to. He had enough survival skills and supplies to get, but barely, as he lacked the direction to escape the wilderness and find civilization. The following months would be harsh for his body and mentality, as he was forced to kill and eat animals for sustenance. For most normal people this is just simple survival, but for Terry, there was a childish, horrible guilt of killing other creatures he never truly grew out of.

    He often got sick from undercooking meat, eating incorrect berries, or just lacking the common sense to find shelter in torrential rain or rest when he was feeling extremely tired. But if there was one thing Terry had, it was extreme determination. He just wouldn't stop pushing forward, no matter his condition. After a couple months of barely surviving and finding fuck-all due to his inability to read a map properly, it was mostly by coincidence that Terry found himself wandering into the outskirts of Port Newmouth.

    Being dirty, clutching a sheathed greatsword, and wearing scraps of fur, Terry was mistaken for a barbarian and was arrested immediately. He tried his best to explain everything when put under trial, but he was just too dimwitted and panicked to properly reason or speak out for himself. Just as the huge man was about to be hanged or imprisoned for life, somebody spoke out for him on trial, managing to calm down Terry enough for him to properly explain himself and give proof that he wasn't batshit crazy, and had been surviving in the wild after being kicked out of his homeland. He was soon released, but harshly told he should go away to somewhere he belonged.

    The person who spoke out for him, in short, did it so Terry would repay him a favor. The man's name was Ardius: a middle-aged half-elf with a silver tongue, a pointy black beard, and long hair. The only reason he'd helped Terry was because the man was bloody massive, and had proven himself extremely strong when it'd taken five guards to drag him to the trial room. Ardius happened to own a company that dealt in caravan guards. So in repayment for Ardius essentially interrupting a trial and saving his life, Terry promised to work for him at a highly reduced pay rate.

    Life as a caravan was tough, low-paying, but Terry found himself actually happy for once in his life. His fellow caravan members were friendly and liked to talk a lot, and loved Terry's company for his unintentional hilarity with his dumb attitude and his good heart. The man finally felt like he was somewhere where he belonged. He was given training tips by the fellow fighters he was in company with, and despite being knocked for his unheard of style of fighting with the greatsword sheath still on when it came to bandits, Terry was still great at getting the job done. He learnt how to growl, adopt a proper stance, and display his strength to deter bandits from raiding caravans, as well as knocking them clean out when they did actually have the balls to come and try it. He helped slay various mana beasts én route for the caravans, although he certainly couldn't have done it alone.

    Recently, however, Terry made a huge mistake in his dream job.

    It was just another bandit attack. Except these ones had sprung out of nowhere on what was thought to be just a minor caravan supply. Terry was one of two caravan guards, and his companion was shot square in the neck by an arrow, passing out from shock and blood loss. By the skin of his teeth and with multiple arrows sticking out of him, Terry managed to fight off the four bandits that had attacked. But as usual, despite losing a companion, Terry didn't kill the bandits. Returning home, Terry informed his boss about what happened. Ardius simply shook his head. Terry's companion had been one of Ardius's best men and a personal friend, and Terry had forgotten to capture his killers due to panic, let alone kill them for their awful actions. They had essentially gone unpunished for what they'd done. Ardius was quick to fire Terry from the job, explaining to Terry that he was a good man, but he needed him to leave before he changed his mind, also adding that he should've left him to hang that day.

    Now, Terry doesn't really know what he's doing anymore. He was only fired a couple of days ago, and still wears the same caravan clothes. Rationing what little money he has, he's often seen at the inn, doing the one thing he can still enjoy: drinking.
    Other: Some misc. facts:
    • He's never killed a man or a humanoid being in his life, and could be seen as a pacifist. For this reason, he has an odd, unique fighting style of fighting with his greatsword sheath still on that somehow works in knocking enemies out. When it comes to fighting beasts, Terry will unsheath the sword and utilize the blade.
    • Terry adores many things (particularly types of cuisine), but he doesn't adore anything more than dogs. If he sees one, he just has to stroke it, whether it bites him or not. Silly quirks such as this make him hard to take seriously by people, which has made him see a lot of rejection in his life.
    • Despite not being a member of his caravan guard company anymore, he still wears his old job's armour and badge. It's probably because he has no other clothes, or just because he likes wearing it.
    • He enjoys a song, although not the kind of overly loud and offensive bar rhyme you'd expect. He has an very low and oddly soothing voice that goes well with slow-paced monophonic songs.
    • He actually knows how to bake bread. He doesn't know why, but he can clearly remember when his mother taught him how to, back when he was little. ...Not that it'll ever come in any use.


    • ++Giant of a Man: One of Terry's greatest strengths is undoubtedly his huge body and well-built muscles. This has obvious advantages. He's able to carry much more than a normal man should be able to, and he can perform mundane actions such as kicking or punching with enough force for it to be considered wizardry.
    • +Greatsword Discipline: Terry has been taught how to use a greatsword, a blade that's considered very unconventional due to how big it is. However, Terry's strength and force behind its swings makes it a very viable weapon in a combat scenario, and is particularly effective against thick armour or bone when unsheathed.
    • +Iron Mind: When Terry gets in the mindset of getting a job done, he does it fast, or tries to. Be it merely gathering firewood all the way to defending a civilian from a flock of beasts, he's not a man to half-ass things and won't leave until there's a job well done.
    • +Creative: Even though his intellect leaves a void to be desired, Terry is actually surprisingly creative for what he is. He can improvise many things - be it musical tunes or a fighting stance with a makeshift weapon like a chair - and produce a respectable result.
    • +Good Guy: Terry has a natural aura of amiability about him, and it's easily readable that he has a good heart. For those who care about such things, they are quick to warm to Terry despite his flaws and bulky appearance.
    • --Dimwitted: Terry just isn't very bright at all. He's slow to catch onto things, has poor puzzle solving skills, and simply can't get his head around complex ideas most of the time. He is mostly illiterate, only being able to spell simple words and read basic phrases. His stupidity can deter certain types of people away from him, and he often has to be told what to do or to simply go away at times.
    • -Lumbering: Terry can't run very fast, certainly isn't an acrobat, and his movements are very predictable in combat scenarios. Whilst he can overpower most opponents in brute strength, smart or quick opponents won't find it difficult to outmaneuver him at all.
    • -Extremely Conspicuous: You could spot Terry a mile away; even if you're not looking at him, due to how loud he moves. When it comes to sneaking or keeping his head low, Terry is equally awful at both.
    • -Failed Mage: Surprisingly, Terry is actually able to perform minor forms of healing magic. Just... at a pathetically bad level, so much so that his magic shouldn't even be considered when looking at his abilities. He often channels his mana incorrectly when trying to perform even the most simple of spells, and whilst he might patch up a grass cut occasionally, nothing can be expected from him on that front.
    • -Tries but Fails: Terry will try to do something even when he clearly doesn't have the skill to do it, and just doesn't seem to learn from his mistakes. This can result in causing more harm than good in most scenarios, though his creativity can sometimes (but rarely) help him.
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: Sheathed Greatsword, Blackjack, Dull Knife
    • Armory: Old Caravan Suit (Full Leather Armour with Basic Iron Knee/Shoulder/Elbowpads)
    • Tools: Dusty Bandages, Simple Medicine
    • Personal: Old Caravan Badge, Small Empty Picture Frame
    #3 Jakers, Oct 7, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 8, 2016
  3. Jakers! Long time no see. Haven't seen you since one Rp or another. It's Tempest *waves* hm. Very quick scan, and I mean quick cuz I'm going to bed but things look like they'll be on the up-and-up. I'll get an official edits mark-up on whats there when I've slept, if there is any. :3
    • Thank Thank x 1
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  4. Hey~hey^^!!

    Ummm... so like I stumbled upon this as well. Is it okay if Boo drops off an appie too please? :]

    Nevermind. Good luck with your RP, k? ;D
    #5 Boo Girlie BoomBoom, Oct 8, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 9, 2016
  5. .... Yes. For now. I maintain the right to shoo all strays with a broom though owo *reaches carefully for broom*
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  6. Personal

    Name:Amarsin “Azzy” Orchamus, The Lost Boy Prince of Enruba

    Other aliases also include “The Foreigner”

    Age: 51

    Sex: male

    Race: Human

    Appearance (open)

    Amarsin stands at 5'10 and the only hint that Amarsin comes from Enruba is his slightly darker skin tone. For everything else about him seems to be the exact opposite of an Enruban, especially one that comes from Nobility. His face is weathered and worn out and his choice of a Large Claymore and thick plate mail, though intimidating are as far from Enruba weaponry as you could get. His torso is covered in little nicks and scars though the most obvious one is a dark line across his lower abdomen.

    Personality: Amarsin is a easily relaxed figure and it's incredibly difficult to rouse him to true fury, even in battle. Despite his aggressive, ambition driven personality in his youth, he seems now to accept everything given to him, good or bad and simply goes with the flow. This carefree attitude is matched with a steely discipline thanks to decades of constant training from one skill to another. He is a generally amicable person and will be more than willing to teach or lecture anyone pretty much anything (since chances are he knows it already). But that shouldn't hide his rougher aspects; a decade of constant heavy warfare along with the last 15 years of dealing with bandits and robbers has made him hold no qualms about killing. If you're a threat to either him or his job. He won't hesitate to cut you in two.

    Biography: Amarsin was born into nobility, in fact his family was one of the many branches of the Imperial Family of Enruba and was fortunate enough to have close relations with the main Imperial branch. Amarsin at a young age showed tremendous talent in scholarly pursuits, being able to memorize and recite long epic poetry to entertain his Father. He was also beloved by both the nobility and the lower classes for his gorgeous locks of sleek black hair, which reached down to his back due to his mother refusing anyone to cut it. At the age of ten it was arranged for Amarsin to enter into the care of the Imperial family as a form of unofficial adoption where their vast sources of knowledge and resources would raise him as a diplomat and scholar. For the next ten years of his life he would be dedicated to studying and was put far away from a sword and magic was out of the question since it seemed early on that Amarsin had no innate skills.

    Amarsin’s relationship with his new foster family was a positive one, especially with the Empress Dowager at the time, who doted on him as he cared for her when she became sick. Even to this day, any members of the Imperial main branch old enough to remember Amarsin still look on him fondly, even though It was to all end in an embarrassing disaster.

    When Amarsin turned 19, the Empress Dowager, his closest companion died and he receded into a deep melancholy. For a year he kept himself isolated in his quarters, endlessly studying new scriptures to find comfort and solace in his grief and he found none. He realized that despite honing his craft for over a decade, he found no happiness in it. And he gave way to private, darker thoughts.

    To this day, no one in Enruba knows why Amarsin fled the capital. Why he rode furiously south towards the Albraz Cordillera, towards the one place that would certainly mean his death, the Gibbering mines. The Emperor at the time sent whole squads after Amarsin but he had gained such a head-start that they never caught up to him. It was too late, there was evidence to believe that he had already descended the mines and there was nothing else that could be done. The whole event caused a shock-wave through Enruba and cast a shadow over the Imperial family for decades. The entire populace believed him to be dead (and still do) and gave him the title “The Lost Boy Prince of Enruba”.

    In truth, Amarsin should have died, for the Mines and the volatile mana that dwells can rot both the mind and the body. Amarsin, in all of his naivety of the outside world and his over-confidence in his studies believed that if he could understand the mana and its power he could find some meaning and reap some benefits from what he saw as his wasted life.

    His only reason for not dying a terrible death was stumbling across another adventurer in the depths of the mines. A powerful and renown mage from Mercuil known as Zian Cao, whose ambitions and questions brought him and his entourage of guards into the mines for studying. Amarsin in his desperation for safety, explained who he was and his reasoning for coming. Zian Cao, mocking the boy for even thinking of coming to a place like this, quickly picked up on his intelligence and potential and agreed to take him into his care as an apprentice of sorts, while keeping his identity a secret.

    Zian Cao at first thought to just make use of Amarsin’s knowledge, but after some experimentation, discovered that Amarsin not only had a knack for magic, but was actually gifted with high concentrations of Mana and began to seriously train him. Amarsin, though happy that he seemed to find a higher calling to life, also bitterly resented his former family for stifling his potential at greatness and desired to show them just how mistaken they were. His ambition to become stronger grew at it’s core from revenge, bitter fury and selfishness.

    Paired with the machinations of Zian Cao, the results would prove devastating, The elderly mage had secretly his entire life searched for the techniques and technology that had been used by the Mercuil before the Day of Mana that were now lost. At least most of it. During the pair’s many excavations over the years, within the edge of the Southern Wastes they had found a scroll for a surgery. Something so profane and heretical that not even those before the Day of Mana would have dared tried it. But this scroll was the one scrap that they had clawed for and so Zian Cao performed the operation on a willing Amarsin. A decision Zian Cao would come to somberly regret, later seeing it as an abomination of an act that he thrusted upon a naive and foolhardy young man who knew no better.

    Amarsin after the operation was not so remorseful. It was now his turn to mock the old mage for his cowardice and squeamishness. He left Mercuil entirely to finish the rest of the ritual and for that he chose one of the most dangerous places in the world: The Trenlow Sound for it’s collossal amount of unstable, but powerful mana that Amarsin reasoned would be perfect to make the Enruban nobility pay for limiting him to be their “personal scribe”.

    Zian Cao did not see his former apprentice for six months until he turned up one night on his front step and cordially asked to be invited inside from the pouring rain. Amarsin was different, he no longer was the bitter, angry young man he had been before. He was calm, almost like he was at peace with himself. Zian knew though that Amarsin had completed his ritual. He could sense it. But also noted the stress it had put on his body, he could seen small, fine white streaks running down his long black hair and Amarsin was only 25.

    Amarsin no longer wanted to prove anything to those who raised him in Enruba. He simply wished to live his life in secrecy and travel the world. He asked Zian if he could arrange a boat trip to the Rochereal Tundra, so that Amarsin could potentially get work as a Mercenary in one of their skirmish wars against Vossheim.

    Thus the next chapter of Amarsin’s life began, first he was a scholar, then a mage and now, he would be a warrior. And a mighty one. For the next decade he fought in these skirmish wars. He cut off his long, beautiful hair and would never grow it back again and quickly in battle picked up sword-fighting. He found his body and his muscles quickly growing until he eventually began wielding a claymore in battle. He gained a reputation among both sides of the fighting and even found himself leading minor war parties. He was quickly given the name “The Foreigner” as nobody on either side knew his name or nationality, other than he was a foreigner. Amarsin panicked at his new notoriety and feared that this would lead to his real identity being discovered. So he quietly switched sides and joined the Vossheim after five years with the Northmen, hoping that he could blend in as a common mercenary. It was with the Vosheim that he learned how to fight in armor and soon his suit of plate mail was a common site among battlefields.

    Though Amarsin’s plan eventually backfired horribly. While evacuating a town from the oncoming Northmen raid, his scouts reported that the raiding party had come sooner than expected. With his small group of soldiers outnumbered and unprepared and with people needing to be escorted to the nearest fortified city, the fighting over the next few days had become desperate and bloody. Amarsin’s forces miraculously annihilated the war-party, but stories and first hand account from both the Northmen and Vossheim of the Foreigner “Turning into a Demon” began to spread. But the Foreigner was no where to be found. He had vanished and never even bothered to collect his pay.

    After a decade of fighting the skirmish wars, it was time for Amarsin to move on and keep a low profile, Which he has. for the last 15 years Amarsin has traveled through most of the world, wandering and taking odd jobs as a caravan guard to keep himself employed. Soon the tales of “The Lost Boy Prince of Enruba” and “The Foreigner” will fade away into obscure history. And no one will know that they were the same person.
    These days, Amarsin simply goes by the name, Azzy, to keep his real name and aliases a secret.

    Amarsin has actually just returned from Mercuil to take care of his old master, Zian Cao in his dying moments. He arrived in Port Neworth looking for work.



    • Strength through swordplay: Despite his age, Amarsin is still terrifying with his claymore and can still cleave through opponents.
    • Mana lake: Amarsin's magical talent is shown through his innately large resevoirs of Mana which allows him to cast his preferred magical spells for extended periods of time. In this case, it is a series of vines that can either sprout from his hand or emerge from the gound in front of him that can help with dealing opponents, especially groups.
    • Highly Educated: Amarsin's intelligence cannot be stated enough and has read enough books in his youth alone to account for an entire lifetime of most men of intelligence.
    • Worldly: Amarsin has spent the last 30 years of his life travelling the known world in secret. Chance are where ever you are, he has already been there and can tell you a thing or two about it.
    • Transformation: Only ever fully utilized once in his entire life. due to the surgery performed by his old mentor as well as finishing the ritual in the Trenlow Sound. His body has become permanently tainted by twisted mana, the kind that usually warps fauna and flora into monstrosities. Fully transformed gives Amarsin strength beyond any mortal,and it makes the mana in the area highly unstable and dangerous. Amarsin can also partially transform, such as a hand or a leg. But it is rarely advised since the side effects are so awful.
      First hand accounts of Vossheim troops sighting the Foreigner's "Demon Transformation" state that he looked like this
    • Shooting Blanks: Amarsin is absolutely useless with a Bow and Arrow, his aim is awful and would more likely hurt his allies than his enemy.
    • Grey Elephant: Due in part to his large, stocky frame, his huge clunking armor and his claymore, stealth is impossible. Don't expect him to be able to steal something or sneak past someone.
    • Circus accident: Though he can swing his sword reasonably fast, Amarsin is not agile and expects either a sword parry or his armor to protect him from blows.
    • Cardio Kills Gains: Anarsin was never a runner, now add about 60+ lbs of armor and you have a man who gets winded very easily.
    • Secrets revealed: Anyone with any serious magical ability can sense innately that something if off about Amarsin. His mana is not exactly natural. Any Manica however can sense the source of this unnatural mana: the Heart stone magically sewn into his lower abdomen.
    • OP pls Nerf: Even partially using the transformation comes with nasty side effects later: Migraines, stomach pains, nausea and vomiting, fevers and general feeling of weakness. side effects depend on the extent of usage. Full blow transformation usually results in being bed ridden for a few days.
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: Two Handed Claymore around 4 1/2 feet long
    • Armory: Full suit of Plate armor minus a helmet
    • Tools: A handy dandy Map
    • Personal: Small Notebook for writing things down.
    #7 Slade, Oct 8, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 8, 2016
  7. @Jakers It looks simply wonderful so far. :D I look forward to having the lug around.

    @Kae'os Daemon so far those two look good, especially after discussing with you about them. I'll wait to see the set completed before any verdict.

    @Slade I'll get to you soon *narrows eyes*
    • Thank Thank x 1
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  8. @Slade accepted. First character. *claps*

    Also, on that note, I just finished up my biography on my character and so she should be all finished up for any who are interested.
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  9. I've got a couple ideas I'd like to air out from reading your OP

    1. A babbling, visibly insane Enrubian man claiming to be the former Emperor or Great Vizier - he's never clear on which - who escaped with traders in order to muster up a rebellion - I'll leave it up to you, OP, whether this man would actually be right, or just delusional.

    2. A young Manica woman who, while she does know she is a Manica, uses her lack of visible traits to claim to be human.
  10. Both look fine as general ideas. If you have questions, just throw them at me and I'll get to them when I can. Gonna be passing out now, though.

    First one could be interesting given Slade's character's experience with the royalty of Enruba in the past, by the by.
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  11. Finished Terry's backstory! Meet the man who just can't seem to get anything right.

    If anything doesn't correlate let me know, particularly about the part about him being from a smart/magical clan within the Rochereal Tundra. I can change him to being of Enrubian descent if smart/magical clans simply aren't a thing; only reason I didn't make him Enrubian from the get-go was because I think we have (or are going to have) a few of those already.
  12. Personal

    Name: Khalil "Al-Ahmaq Alkhadhib" Al-Habib
    Age: 46
    Sex: Male
    Race: Enrubian Human
    Personality: Hooting, babbling, rocking on his arse, Khalil is harmless, but otherwise unpredictable. He can defend himself if need be, but he has a hard time hurting others - perhaps it's because he wants them to join his cause?
    Biography: None can say for sure if his accounts are true or not, most look down on him with distrust and general disdain. According to him, he is the deposed Emperor (or Great Vizier? He is never clear, sometimes switching between the two, lending to his untrustworthiness) of Enruba, having been overthrown by the current Emperor. That is all he ever babbles about, however, so he remains otherwise enigmatic.
    Other: His claims are dubious at best, but perhaps they are true? You'd have to join him to find out...


    • Handsome: His primary strength is his enviable visage and admirable physique. For his age, Khalil maintains an incredibly healthy body.
    • Adaptive: According to his accounts, he's been through too many hardships to not be as rough and tumble as he's become. From being forced to walk across the hottest of Enrubian sands barefoot, to having to fight leonine creatures with nothing but a bucket full of nails, while his stories are dubious, he shows visible signs of being capable of them - his feet and hands are incredibly rough and callussed,in example.
    • Harmless: He wishes no ill will on others - except for, perhaps, the current Emperor and Great Vizier of Enruba. He may be delusional, but he harbors no ill will towards others - some might support him just because he's so nice.
    • Visibly Insane: One of the first - and only - traits people see about him is the crazy look in his eyes, the crooked smile he perpetually bares, and the delusional chuckle he constantly lets out. Piss poor at stealth and socialization as a result.
    • Trusting: His biggest flaw is that he trusts too easily, although perhaps his insanity both explains and makes up for it - that said, his trust for other people makes one wonder how he hasn't been killed yet.
    • Drunkard: As if he wasn't already insane, Khalil enjoys a drink as well, with mixed results coming from it. While he seems to be a bit less insane (despite still being delusional), he's much less coordinated. In essence, if you want to talk to a sensible man, give him a pint. If you want a man that's good in a fight, keep him sober.
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: His own two fists, paired with his own two feet.
    • Armory: A comfortable Enrubian silk robe and waist wrap - no footwear, unfortunately.
    • Tools: His wonderful smile!
    • Personal: Jewelry which he claims is from his days as the Emperor - or Great Vizier.


    Name: Eris Stoneheart
    Age: 19
    Sex: Female
    Race: Manica
    Personality: Eris uses her outwardly human appearance to avoid marking herself as Manica - she is a courageous and philanthropic woman with a fascination for alchemy, and a love of magic. She is rather enigmatic, but not particularly aloof - she simply avoids talking about herself, but loves hearing about others. She is committed to using her talents to better the world, and hides as a human because she desires to see the people united in her cause, not her blood.
    Biography: Eris was born at an outpost in Taeviel's Crossing, this place being the home of her parents. Her family was, like her, not obviously Manica in their youth, but as her parents grew older, their crystals shone through their skin. She grew up meeting many different peoples and many different sorts. Her father defended the outpost for the first part of her life, using magics, bombs, and sword to fend off the lesser creatures prowling the pass, but as their vulnerabilities were exposed, the creatures began coming in greater numbers and strength. Her father passed away when she was 16, but not before passing on his knowledge of magic and alchemy, which she learned with much enthusiasm. After he passed away, her mother enlisted mercenaries to guard the outpost and keep them safe while she partook in trade. Due to their Manica blood, many did this service for little more than a meal at the end of the day, happy to serve a Manica family. Recently, Eris left her home outpost after the mercenaries taught her the way of the sword, and she set out to see the world and find good causes.
    Other: She rather enjoys prose, as the artistic use of words without the limits of meter and rhyme are of great draw to her.


    • Alchemist: Bombs, Acids, Potions, Poultices, and Vim, Eris is skilled with all sorts of alchemical formulae, and enjoys demonstrating for and teaching others her arts.
    • Mage: While she lacks the strength of more experienced mages, she is capable of various magical feats, but is determined only to use them for the good of others.
    • Trade Adept: Perhaps her family succeeded because they were Manica, but regardless, Eris is rather adept at trading on her own, something she picked up from her parents. As a result, she usually has enough gold on hand to make a beggar into a mercenary.
    • Philanthropy: While a social kindness, her giving nature tends to get in the way. If you pool your resources with her, she will often accidentally dip into yours to make a poor man's day.
    • Hides Manica Blood: She prefers to hide the very same aspect that most likely led to her affluence in the first place, resulting in her not benefiting from her blood at all - the status and general good will it inspires are lost to her, unless she were to reveal it.
    • Duelist, not a Hunter: The mercenaries who trained her taught her how to kill a man, but she never learned how to kill any of the tainted beasts in the world. As a result, she suffers in combat against animals and beasts.
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: Several shortswords hidden throughout her person, as well as one rapier she keeps at her hip. In a rare emergency, her gauntlets can be used like claws.​
    • Armory: She wears gauntlets, heavy spaulders, a thick leather corset, and pteruges for defense, as well as a cloaked shawl, a blouse, leather leggings, and plated jackboots for protection from the elements. Lastly, she keeps a bandolier for holding her alchemical concoctions.​
    • Tools: Alchemical ingredients and concoctions she keeps in numerous numbers day by day. She can use bombs and acid vials as weapons, or poultices, potions, and vim to support herself and others. In this case, vim refers to any alchemical fluid that is not ingested to be used - either it creates a mist, or it can be chucked at an ally, and will heal when it breaks against them.​
    • Personal: A good amount of gold from her mother, as well as several trinkets and pieces of jewelry for trade.​
    #13 VerbalAbuse, Oct 8, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 10, 2016
  13. @Jakers Terry is k in my book. :D Accepted.

    @VerbalAbuse I like them *nods* was that the final drafts of the sheets? I have some ideas in mind for Khalil.
    • Thank Thank x 1
    • You Need a Hug You Need a Hug x 1
  14. Hello :)

    Is there still room for another character ? If so, I hope I don't fail completely with this. I'm not new to roleplaying but I'm somewhat new to this board.


    Source: CaesarsNail, DeviantArt

    Name: Hainsarku
    Age: 27
    Sex: Male
    Race: Human, though heavily altered
    Appearance: Reaching a height of 'only' 5'8 from his feet to the upper end of his forehead, he's closer to the low end of the range. Hainsarku does have some muscle broadening his upper body and making his legs and arms thicker, but 'overwhelming' still is something very different. All of this however likely get's lost in the onlooker's mind when it wonders what happened to this man: No hair, but hard and pointy protrusions that aim for the sky in an assymetrical pattern. Biology influenced by magic catastrophies, does not always have to make obvious sense. One can say that his skull looks like a fortress, thick and reinforced walls protecting the precious interior. His eyes seem to have lost internal cohesion in some way: There's still a black pupil in the mid, but the iris has dissolved and spread its color and characteristic texture across his entire eye on both sides. He nearly always wears gloves to cover his... let's say extraordinarily long and sturdy fingernails. It makes people more comfortable with him. When he wears armor, he does so in the form of a collection of leather wraps and small pieces of metal covering the most critical parts. They are self-made and definitely not something one could get off the shelf.

    Personality: He looks vicious and this might very well be his greatest downfall, because behind the facade, most of his former character as survived. He is easily willing to lend a helping hand, knowing that he often enough had to ask for a favor himself. One could get the impression that he sometimes wants to apologize for just having entered a room. Treating him with disdain so far has only boosted his shyness, but that doesn't mean that there's no threshold that can be trespassed in either a benign or a malicious way to make his introversion keel over.

    Biography: Hainsarku once had been a perfectly ordinary man. Not rich, not famous, not particularly educated or of a higher social standing, but also far from having to live in the slums. He was a blacksmith's apprentice in the best known city of Fort Xandra. His parents were his father Vaught and his mother Daka. The former was a quite intimidating man who unleashed his physical prowess professionally on woodwork, being a carpenter known not only by his chips, but by acknowledged quality. She was the one devoted to the task of taking care of their two children, working only half a day at her own request.

    His brother Sempitho was born four years before him and happened to have greater magical talent, but Hainsarku was never given the feeling only to be the second in line. The young boy didn't interpret it as an affront that he wasn't sent to the academy but instead to a metalworker. Noone can be perfect in every aspect, huh ? And he had a natural feeling for this cold and hard, metal stuff.

    That was until he reached the age of 22. On that day, approximately 255 years after the Day of Mana. Sempitho had requested him taking a few days leave, being in need for company as he had to make a long haul errand. Sometimes magic required rare ingredients and even with an entire caravan around him, he just felt more comfortable this way.

    It didn't go well. The caravan's leader fell ill and the navigational skill of his successor would have barely sufficed to guide them through the mist if it had been three centuries ago. Now the Baelmyst landscape had become very intolerant towards incompetence. Only a few hundred yards off the way, not even being able to see what ground they were walking on in the dense fog, half of them got consumed by a bog while the other half happened to be fast enough to understand their warning screams. The remainder tried to turn around and find their way, but it was too late. Vile beasts had been attracted by the many loud voices and half of the half was slain, in most cases one by one without the others noticing in their panic.

    Hainsarku and Sempitho were lucky, but only partially. While they survived, they became separated from each other. It is this point in time where their common story ends at. Hainsarku got hit by something he never found out what it was, but what followed could be seen as proof that the event 260 years ago had not been something that had turned everything it had encountered into a self-consistent, vicious creature that wanted to do nothing but spread the carnage.

    In hindsight, the best way to describe what happened to him probably is to call it some sort of an 'infection'. An 'infection' that so far has not been subjected to any kind of close examination as he is just too afraid of volunteering for this. As long as he can live without suffering from too much agony - not fine, but still preferable. First he had fallen unconscious, but only to wake up what should turn out to be weeks later at another place. The ever present myst still had been around him and he assumed that he 'just' had had an incredible amount of luck.

    After weeks of roaming around, underfed and not really knowing where to go, Hainsarku strolled into one of the smaller villages that refused to bend down in front of Ard Ri. The welcoming party consisted of guards chasing him away from the palisade wall as far as they were willing to enter the myst. It was only then when he slowly realized the full extent of how his body had changed. If there's no mirror you can look at...

    Yet he still was humanoid, he still was of an ordinary size, he still could speak, have emotions and show to others that he could think of something peaceful. It were these properties that helped him survive not only in Baelmyst, but also in the neighbouring countries he soon put his feet on. However scoldings and rebuffs had become his steady companions. When he made it finally back to Fort Xandra, his family was nowhere to be found. They had moved away, not wanting to stay in the land they believed to have lost both their children to.

    Hainsarku doesn't know if his state is stable or only something intermediary that will progress further on and currently is just stagnant. Not having any particular place to go, his occurence in Port Neworth can be considered as a pure coincidence. He has the hope of making himself useful and maybe finding some friends after this many years. A group of people who plan on going out there could be a good opportunity for this... After all, 'out there' basically has become his second home.



    • Survivalist: He has been out there for a comparably very long time. Even running away from a monstrosity gives you some knowledge about it and finding enough food in the harsh wilderness is a task he has become very used to. And you should know how to treat your wounds without magic...
    • Pocket battleship: Yes, he is only 5'8 and doesn't seem to have that much of muscular bulk, but alterations have also affected his bones, tendons and body tissues in general. He can take a lot of punishment without wearing much of an armor. This is especially true against blunt weapons and fists - fields where armor has a tendency to fail in. His additional strength however is not large enough for not being consumed by the disadvantages these alterations have.
    • Blacksmithing: He has only been an apprentice, but a very good one. Repairs in the field, given the proper tools and materials, are nothing he would not be capable of. He's open-minded towards making new inventions on this area as well, especially for himself.
    • Appearance and reality: He's quite prone to be underestimated. Their fault, his advantage...
    • Stranger: It's almost needless to say that he does encounter difficulties in socializing. Most people require a considerable amount of well-placed words to become convinced that he's a good guy.
    • Volume x density...: Just by looking at him one could assume that he doesn't weigh much. The reality however is that not only his skull is reinforced but his entire body. Hainsarku is crushing heavy, thereby not the most agile one and should pay attention to things like the ground he stands on, the chair he chooses, the mount he rides and such things.
    • Inexperienced fighter: He had many encounters, but rarely the option to stand and fight instead of trying to escape. The style he uses is more a belief of what's good for him than a proven concept.
    • This is an active construction site: Something is still happening inside him. How else could it be explained that he suffers from severe attacks of pain here and then ? It's not that these attacks would consider the situation he currently is in.
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: Short sword, several pieces of armor that are equipped with protruding spikes.
    • Armory: A sturdy layer of leather, above that several pieces of metal. They are far from covering his entire body though.
    • Tools: Blacksmith's toolkit
    • Personal: A few coins of money. Everyday's fabric clothing.
  15. @Fetzen looks good. Welcome aboard. Accepted.
    • Thank Thank x 1

  16. Personal

    Name: Morohtar Haldir
    Age: 143, looks as if to be in his mid twenties
    Sex: Male
    Race: High elf
    Appearance: Morohtar stands to be seven feet and three inches, he seems to have a medium build, not too large on the muscle scale, but not too skinny. The elf has very strong jaw line, a pair of light blue eyes which give off a faint glow, including scars on his lips and nose. His hair is short and ashen gray, and lets not forget about the signature pointed ears all elves are known for.
    Personality: Mo comes off as an individual with a tough skin, not letting anything bother him. Even when wounded, he would still be doing tasks that would only further injure himself just to show he is not going to back down. His dark and maleficent appearance does not help this fact. He is a very well spoken individual though, being a very intelligent man, though this might come off snobby to others as most elves do. Though under his emotionless shell he has created for himself, Mo is constantly battling with himself, constant internal conflict is starting to eat away at his mentality, which does show in certain situations.

    Biography: Morohtar is a fairytale, someone who is told in stories to inspire others, stories of bravery and courage, of the last high elf "The all mighty Morohtar, taking on large monstrosities with both sword and shield, showing the dark forces that they do not scare him, instead they should fear him, as he is the last of his kind, and he upholds their legacy". Sadly, those are just stories, and they don't hold much truth either.

    We start in the Rorchereal Tundra, not many know, but this was home to an elven empire, ruled by king Imherith and his wife, queen Alya. The kingdom was powerful, large armies, schools rich of knowledge, and the city bountiful of life, it also helped that the kingdom came into power only a few years before the day of mana. and just a few years after the event the city was stricken with a plague, and awful blight. Something that was never heard of in elven history. And right as it began, The king and queen had a child, Morohtar.

    The blight itself was a slow killer, and the worst part about it was, if you were infected, you couldn't reproduce. Much of the city wanted to venture out to see if they could get help, but The king had to much pride, and decided not to ask, and anyone who dared tried to, would be executed on the spot. The irrational thinking only put the kingdom into more dismay.

    Morohtar was raised to be a warrior during this time, just like his father, except his father wanted to infuse his son with magic, to make him stand out among the rest. Experimenting on the young boys body, Morohtar was altered to be a deadly warrior. Eventually standing above most of his peers, and eventually his parents. He showed enhanced physical strength and speed, this magic made him a freak compared to the rest. So going out to make friends was not a good option at a young age, so he stayed home, in his castle with his parents. He read books when he wasn't training, just so he could keep up on his studies, learning about the world he inherited and the creatures that now dweld in it.

    Many years later, Morohtar is now a captain of Imherith's armies, he was gifted by his father a sword and shield that would match his stature, and a set of armor that was made special for him, but still represented the empire and its colors. And the empire needed it more than ever, the city was in shambles at this point, The people were turning against each other wanting to over throw the king as he never got the help they needed for the plague. It didn't help that at this point the blight became much more aggressive, killing off people left and right. Hundreds to thousands of bodies crowded the streets, dead from being sick. Morohtar and his men were stationed in front of the castle to fight back the revolution, This was something Mo didn't want, but he had no choice when his own people, friends even, started to attack him. He ended many, he held his ground, and lost many men in the onslaught of people. Either way for Mo innocent lives were lost. Things were not supposed to be like this, and he made this clear to his father.

    During this time Imherith and Morohtart clashed heads on several of Imherith's decisions for the kingdom. Soon the creatures that roamed the outskirts of this empire began to creep their way into the city, and began killing people, it was perfect timing for the tainted creatures, the elves were crippled, barely an army to fight them back. It was like easy pickings...

    To make matters worse, Imherith found out that his mother was pregnant, but why? Why would Imherith and his mother try and have a kid, they couldn't raise it even if they wanted to with the state the empire was in. Morohtar had enough, he wanted to leave, and find safety, he tried to persuade his father and mother to take what was left of their empire, and leave. Alya agreed with Mo, but Mo's father did not. So Mo decided to leave with his mother, and that's what he tried to do, but before he could even make it out of the front door of his castle, his father tried to kill his son, but luckily Mo quickly parried and his blade penetrated the king. It was all out of reaction, The High elf got to see his father die by his own hands. With that he left, only to find out that the creatures have over run the empire, even the guards that were outside the castle were killed. He fought through the empire, and made his way to the coasts of the tundra, and took a boat, and he and his pregnant mother made their way to Baelmyst in hopes for sanctuary, but along the ride their they faced many problems. First they had barely enough food to get both of them through, and second they were in constant threat of being attacked by creatures that inhabited the sea.

    The boat was eventually attack by Sirens, Mo did his best and fought them off, but in the end he lost his mother and the baby she carried. There was nothing he could do to save them, and Morohtar had enough, he threw his shield off the boat, there was no need for it as he didn't want the protection anymore. He fought on as his boat made its way to Port Neworth of the Baelmyst region. From this point on, Mo became very suicidal, but he could never find the strength to end his own life, as there was no pride in that, so instead he searched for death.

    Mo made a name for himself in the city, becoming a sword for hire, taking on creatures in hopes they were worthy enough to kill him but none did. Even to this day he is looking for the same fate.

    Other: Theme



    • Láng fēnggé: Morohtar is a very skilled swordsman, through his studies, Mo developed a fighting style with his sword that originates from the idea of Láng fēnggé. Mimicking the skill and speed of a wolf, Mo can be a gruesome foe.
    • Agile: Despite Morohtar's size, he is rather nimble, being able to maneuver through the battle field with ease, even while caring his sword. This allows him to play more offensively rather than blocking incoming attacks.
    • Intellectual: Mo was made to read much about the world he lives in by his parents, learning about all the inhabitants in the world, both good and bad. Giving him a good understanding of what is to come when goes out into the world.
    • Dark magic: Morohtar has a great understanding in the dark arts, using darker forms of magic to enchant his weapons, and to help him battle in the field. Though it is said that using dark magic gravely affects you in the afterlife, hopefully it is all just myths.
    • Reckless: Mo fights with reckless abandon, not giving a damn about his own well being, this is just a good example at where his head is in the world.
    • Conspicuous: The elf is rather easy to spot out, due to his incredible height, and the fact that his armor is rather heavy, making him always stand out like a sore thumb.
    • Hard headed: Morohtar is someone who sticks by his opinions, and it is rather hard to prove him wrong, he is never, wrong.
    • Outsider: Mo has a hard time socializing with people, sure he can talk to one of his buyers about a contract, but that's formal He finds it very hard to have a conversation with random people, and even with the ones he knows he can barely conversate.
    • Cold: Mo can be cold sometimes, much like his home. Saying things that shouldn't be said, and caring very little about the world around him, as its never did anything for him
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: colossal great sword, 8 feet in length. Magically infused with dark magic, allowing it to be necrotic, as well as letting Mo summon it from thin air to his hands.
    • Armory: Plate and chain armor.
    • Tools: Armor repair kit, blade sharpener, as well as a pouch for his gold.
    • Personal: He wears a necklace that has his father's ring tied to it. A reminder of where he came from.
    #17 ~\The Talentless/~, Oct 9, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 11, 2016
  17. Update: The IC will be going up within the next few days. Still accepting players at this time.
  18. Is this still open?? If so, then here's my character~! ^_^


    Name: Ghazal Shadlyah
    Age: 18
    Sex: Male
    Race: Enrubian Human
    Appearance: Ghazal stands at a comfortable, but rather short, 5'6" or 167.64 cm.
    His build is very small and some would even consider it feminine. A rarity from the desert in
    Enrubia, Ghazal has pale white skin that never seems to burn or tan, making his appearance
    rather different, but in a pleasant way. His clothes are light and revealing, as to stave off
    the daily heat of the desert.
    Personality: Ghazal is a sweetheart. He wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone intentionally
    and he always tries to make everyone around him happy. Preferring to avoid conflict, he tries
    to resolve any and all potential confrontations with diplomacy first without even thinking of
    Biography: Ghazal lived a relatively normal life in Enrubia. His mother was a performer
    while his father was working with the magic technology. From his parents' honest work, Ghazal
    had basically lived in the lap of luxury his entire life. Although his family was extremely
    wealthy, he never let it affect him. All through his life he was humble and generous rather
    than arrogant and greedy.

    Growing up in the busy city of Kor-Haptep, Ghazal found his fun in the area by running around in
    the alleys or along the rooftops with a few of the other kids. While it may not have been the
    safest thing for him to do, he found it incredibly fun and exciting, leading him to only get more
    adventurous and risky with the way he pranced and leaped from rooftop to rooftop.

    Around his twelfth birthday, there was an accident with some of the technology his father and a
    few others were working on and Ghazal's father lost his life. After that, he and his mother went
    into a seemingly endless depression and even quit her performing for a while.

    As time went by, Ghazal managed to escape from his sadness, but his mother's sadness only seemed
    to grow and Ghazal was getting increasingly worried for her mental and physical well-being. One day,
    when his mother seemed to be on the brink of sickness from lack of self-care, Ghazal danced for her.
    He was uncoordinated and awkward, but he wasn't trying to be a pretty dancer. He just wanted to see
    his mother smile again.

    And smile she did. His mother even laughed at his amusing fumbling. From that day on, Ghazal always
    made sure to dance for his mother so she would smile every day until she got better. Eventually, she
    did indeed get better and even resumed performing. At home, however, she gave Ghazal lessons and
    taught him how to be a good performer.

    At the age of fourteen, Ghazal would frequently perform with his mother, and he even realized his natural
    affinity for singing which only served to get his performances a higher pay. As he neared fifteen, his mother
    began to teach him how to channel his innate magical abilities into his dance, so as to further entice
    his audience. Although, not much help was needed as male dancers weren't the most common, so that
    coupled with his feminine physique allowed him to draw the eyes of anyone in the room, as should any

    After some practice, Ghazal found a way to project his magic through his voice as well, making his already
    gorgeous tenor into an enticing and ensnaring melodic instrument. The combination of his voice
    and dancing earned him the well-known and seemingly prestigious title "The Desert Siren."

    Growing older, Ghazal began to get quite the feeling of wanderlust in his bones. He'd been born and
    raised in the city of Kor-Haptep, but he wanted to see and experience more. So, following his
    seventeenth birthday, he made to travel, leaving his mother with the promise of coming home safe
    after he had traveled the world, performing for anyone and everyone, but he always remembers to send
    a weekly letter to his mother. It's for this reason that Ghazal travels primarily by foot, hoping to
    happen across caravans to travel with and small settlements to entertain for a while before continuing
    on along his pilgrimage.

    In the year he has been traveling, he's made it across the northern Rorchereal Tundra and into the
    Baelmyst. Part of him was incredibly nervous to visit such places, but he couldn't stop himself from
    going. Surprisingly the 'barbaric' people of the north were mostly nice to Ghazal, leading to an
    easy trek through the frozen wastes. Along his travels, he has learned to be proficient with small
    weapons that are easy to hide and even some hand-to-hand combat in order to protect himself if
    need be.

    Now in the Baelmyst, Ghazal is currently unsure of whether he should attempt the dangerous journey
    through the mist to another settlement or not, so he is currently staying in Port Neworth, entertaining
    at the local tavern until he decides on what he should do.
    1.) Ghazal has a natural affinity for instruments, being able to quickly teach himself or learn how to
    play. His favorite is the piccolo.
    2.) He is a great cook.
    3.) During his travels, Ghazal has changed a bit: learning to do what he needs to survive, even if he
    accidentally hurts someone.
    4.) He enjoys using his magical voice to make people fall asleep for some reason.


    • Acrobatic: Ghazal can do acrobatic feats that most normal people couldn't dream of
    • Diplomatic: Using his magic, he can use his voice to get others to do what he wants.
      [*}Stealthy: He is very quiet and can sneak very well when he needs to.
    • Sleight of Hand: While people are enticed by his voice, he can easily grab things or
      pickpocket those close to him if needed.
    • Physically Weak: Despite having an athletic build, he is still much weaker than most
      people are.
    • Distant: Since he isn't sure how people work around the world, Ghazal doesn't let himself
      get emotionally close to people, despite being willing to interact with everyone
    • Hurt People: He can't bring himself to ignore anyone who is hurt and will do anything he
      can to help them, unless he himself was the one who had to harm them
    • Animals: He can't bring himself to kill animals, as long as they don't try to kill him first
    Key Inventory
    • Weaponry: Two daggers he has hidden on his legs
    • Armory: None
    • Tools: Small pack that he carries his travel needs in
    • Personal: His earrings were a gift from his mother
    #19 DustBunny, Oct 11, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 12, 2016
  19. @~\The Talentless/~ Mo looks good. Accepted

    @DustBunny There are a couple conflictung points in Ghazal's CS. The fact he appears to be a socialite character but has a flaw of being distant seems a bit off. As well, you make a point to say he will do what he needs to survive in the bio area, but then list in your weaknesses how careful he is to people and animals.
    • Thank Thank x 1
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.