Happy New Year, New Game, New Players (Finished: Dojango/Mictlan Wins!)

[Torgon]

Was the is price of victory? Balor and the Fomorians had defeated invasion after invasion into their once beautiful homeland. Now the land was ravaged, their people nearly destroyed. The dark magic required to defeat the vile armies of the Tuatha had interacted with the old power of the curse in unpredictable ways. Now even more of the children of Fomoria were born with horrific afflictions and monstrous appearance. The kingdom had emerged victorious, but at what price. One more such 'victory' and the blesses giants would not survive into the new age.

The sages saw the worsening of the curse and despaired, seeing it as an sign of the end of all they had fought to preserve. Only a few among them held out any hope for salvation. Balor, king of the Fomorians, was one of the few leaders who believed that salvation for his people was possible. He began a desperate search for a new power, a power that could turn aside the evil of the curse, and return the land of the giant to fertility and prosperity.

His hope was answered in a vision of a new god. One night, while walking through one of the dying forests, he heard a call. A call that brought him to a temple deep within the ancient wood. The temple was deserted, an place of magic dedicated to an old god. The god was unknown to the Fomorians, since any worship had stopped ages ago, even before the time of the Partholonians.

However, Balor heard a call. A soft urging, a hope that he could free this god from its prison. A prison constructed by an evil power ages ago in another war for supremacy. The god that called Balor was a god of healing and mercy, a power that could deliver the Fomorians from the curse that afflicted them.

[Excist]

Game is hosted on llamaserver under NewYearsNewGame and Pretenders can be submitted (just in time with 30 min to go before actual New Years EST).

Shadowshore map has been finalized as the best RP map (and awesome suggestion btw!)

[Immaculate]

link to map?

[Iron Duke]

If it is ok, I'd like to focus more on the nation and less on the pretender(just slightly less) for the backstory, and I intend to enrich it with more stories, or maybe AARs.. Not decided about that yet, though if I do write extra stories and you get bored, be sure to tell me.

[Excist]

Originally Posted by Iron Duke

If it is ok, I'd like to focus more on the nation and less on the pretender(just slightly less) for the backstory, and I intend to enrich it with more stories, or maybe AARs.. Not decided about that yet, though if I do write extra stories and you get bored, be sure to tell me.

Iron Duke, everybody has been bringing their own artistic take to this and most have fleshed out the nation a little as well as the Pretender.

As long as we can get a sense from your description of what to expect in dealing with you then it'll be fine. You can add additional writings later, and I was thinking that would come in the form of flashbacks after major battles/events or after globals are cast hinting at archaic prophecy etc.

I've actually been trying to set up a website to accommodate this sort of stuff better.

Right now we're just waiting on you to upload your pretender and description to get started.

[Iron Duke]

** A R C O S C E P H A L E **
N E W G E N E S I S

In the vicinity of Mount Cephalos, lived a race of human, proud and free, who named themselves after their splendid city, Arcoscephale. A few remembered the old city as it was in the reign of Pantokrator, known not to them by their rightful experience, for none remains in the city belonging to the ancient days, instead their tradition and history passed generation to generation, by the wise and elderly to the young and strong. They were a people of remarkable strength and tenacity, having achieved great knowledge, in both ways of life, for there were two known to the Arcoscephalian, the knowledge of mind and matter, and that of magic. Their craftsmen boasted the best of work, engineers marveled at their own creations, the magi walked firmly on the path to power, and with their soldiers, men of immense courage and talent, they united their known world under their banner.

The belief of the Old Pantokrator had been long gone, and people deified other people, men and women were worshipped as gods and demigods, temples and monuments were raised to honor them, festivals celebrated and sacrifices made. Their land was nothing short of utopia, a word they themselves invented. They enjoyed supernatural fertility, the wonders of their land awed even the most skeptical and worldly of their kind, crystal blue rivers, plains of infinity, mighty forests, fountains of honey, mounds of fruits, sustained by an almost divine force, for which they praised their mother nature, another creation of their own. Arcane energy was potent, the air sizzled with power, and the magically talented perfected their art. Their mother nature, already blessing them with her gifts, the people of Arcoscephale preferred to enjoy their freedom rather then working themselves to the death, often resting on the tree shades, or wandering aimlessly through the grass, tall as a soldier. They knew without toil the magnificence were not to be achieved though, so taking advantage of their fruitful minds, they invented machines and automatons to share their burden. Mills harnessed the power of winds and water, engineered automatons, empowered with magic filled the role of servants, for freedom of being was sacred in Arcoscephale, thus slavery was abhorred. They indeed entertained a central authority, lacking the power of deities, but for the better of nation, constituting laws carefully thought. The authority consisted of not a singular man, but a formed circle of elders instead, and as an unheard practition in the rest of the world(which they longed to discover), chosen by and from the people themselves. The city laws were flexible, almost to the point of lax, every Arcoscephalian citizen instead relied on conscience and honor to avoid falling into disarray and destructive chaos. Conscience and honor are never enough for the society though, and the lives of people were far from clockwork, unexpected occurences often intervened and changed their lives, however, owing to their endurance and optimism, they more often benefited from those surprises, (which often they brought upon themselves, for stagnation and dormancy were not to the taste of an Arcoscephalian) than to be ruined from them.

The thirst for knowledge and the lure of unknown were deep in the hearts of the people of Arcoscephale, and they were already leaving their cradle, expanding both their realm and their culture outward, it was a wonder why they seldom sought to uncover the secrets of Mount Cephalos, a mountain both sacred and forbidden, not by laws but by tradition(which the city folk revered more). As this expansion started to commence, a hero, strongest of the strong, bravest of the brave, conquering the barriers of his mind, and falling victim to his curiosity, and thirst of knowledge, dared to uncover the secrets of the mountain. after ninety nine days, he returned, changed, not in appearance, but in state of mind, he claimed himself prophet. He was to be laughed at first, until miracles began to happen, scores of winged horses, graceful and white as marble, began flying over the city, and none dared to harm them. Next appeared a divine being, a woman to the eye, a goddess to the heart, to the side of prophet, of blinding beauty so dazzling that people shielded their eyes with their hands, lest their eyes and minds be overwhelmed. She performed miracles(for a land of magic, miracles appeared as magic unseen and unheard of before) and prophet spoke, possessed by some unknown power, of realms beyond, of glory, of passion, of dangers, of wonders, of victory, of cataclysm, and the hearts of the people were captured. The power loved the people of Arcoscephale, not as subjects but as countless children, revealed them secrets, empowering their already mighty knowledge, and they in return, put the power even above the gods of their own creation, for gods were numerous and this being was singular and immensely more powerful and most of all, cared for them and loved them. Mountain spirits, manifesting themselves as women of blinding beauty, taught in the Mountain, willing virgins of the city the ways of forests, nature and herbs, of the animals, of healing, and those learned the ways of nature were established within the realm as priestesses, preaching the word of the mysterious power, tending to the sick and wounded, taming wild animals and blessing the worthy.

Arcoscephale, renewed in their existence, beauty and vigor, were ready to enlighten the darkest corners of the world and battle whom will stand in their way, for it was revealed to them, of other powers, some akin to theirs, some malicious, some dealt in death, others, (to their disgust and horror) in blood. The pegasi were tamed as mounts, the order of mystics began researching new spells and creations, philosophers, thinkers of great renown forced their minds to their extent, the strategos adopted new sophisticated battle tactics meanwhile the prophet revealed that in nine hundred ninety nine setting and passing of sun, the power would reveal itself, springing out from the roots of ground, and the old city, now considered itself ready, to show its shining might to the rest of the world...

[Iron Duke]

OOC: The background became a tad longer than I had anticipated, though I was in the mood and wrote some stuff. Now english is not my native and there may have been errors here and there, I think I did fairly well though
The scales and pretender choice are vaguely given in the story, to those who would take their time to read it, but I refrained from giving exacts, which would spoil the game. Now the alignment I chose for Arco(and I think they should be played more or less the same in every rp game) is chaotic(or maybe neutral) good. I tried to give that impression, hope I succeeded

[Immaculate]

Helheim

Born from magic and fed upon the dead as they past through Gnipahålan, the creature was a simple bird, meant to feed upon the dead, return to its master, one of the Hanged ones of Helhanna, and there be sacrificed for the essence of the dead it carried in its gut. But for this grey headed raven, something went wrong. The spell was wrought, the ravens were woven of the mana of winds and they were sent, by the greedy Hangadrott to the place, surely, where there would be the most essence of death to feed upon, the the great stone cave of Gnipahålan where the dead passed through on their way to Hel, but then the spell began to unravel. Many of the ravens lost their way; some their mana unraveled and they became nothing at all. For a select few, they reached their destination only to be swallowed by the great cave itself or torn apart by the confused and desperate dead as they wandered through. But the grey one winged between the currents of seductive death and eluded the grasping hands of the dead as they tried to clutch, desperate, to his feathered form.

And it fed, and from the dead of this pass, it fed well, quickly gaining more essence than the spell it had been wrought from had ever been designed to accommodate. The old greedy Hangadrott who had sought to use the raven’s feast upon this sacred place was right; there was much to be gained from the essence here, much more than could ever be tamed by even those who had hung themselves to walk though the cave and return. And so the raven grew mighty and wise, powerful and cunning. Satiated finally, he returned to Helhanna and slew the caster that had wrought its form. It commanded the Vanir of Helhanna and they obeyed.

Now the grey raven has returned to the lands of men and giants, tuatha and formarians, and with it, has brought the Helheim, that they might struggle for dominance over souls of mortals. Those who spoke to the grey raven say it is a shape-changer, wise and ancient, both cruel and compassionate, its reasoning private yet cooperative and loyal.

Only time will tell what will happen of the cult of the grey raven and the Vanir of helheim.



i don't feel its as good as my sauro submission but the idea i thought was more compelling. also... my pretender is submitted. looking forward to a fun and story-filled game.

[Dogged57]

He was born among the Carnutes to a cattle herder and his wife. There was nothing remarkable about his lineage, his family, his people, except what the druids had seen in the stars. The story of the future of the Marverni is written in the sky, clear to those who can read it. This boy was destined for more than life in the wagons, and he would lead his people to greatness.

Or so they thought. The boy was kidnapped from the place the druids had taken him by fierce slave traders from the steppes nearby. He was bought and sold a dozen times, serving great men, evil men, insignificant men, and finally, a learned man. This wise scholar bought the boy to serve him in his new library hauling scrolls, manuscripts, books, and the things of wonder the scholar had collected over a lifetime.

The boy soon showed that his mind was sharp and wise beyond his years. The scholar took note of his abilities and began to tutor the boy in all of the magical knowledge he knew. The boy soon outstripped his master, and the scholar decided to free the boy and send him out to those around the world like himself, other scholars, wise men, and mages of great power.

The boy grew up travelling from land to land, learning as much as he could about the magic that he felt coursing through his veins, his legacy gifted from the stars. He eventually made himself known throughout the land as a great scholar, and then he ensconced himself in a great tower he had built to study the stars, the world, and the answers to all of the great philosophical questions that men and gods have asked. He was rumored to have stumbled onto something that would allow him to understand the inner workings of the gods and of the lost Pantokrator.

Others came to him in his tower to learn from him and about him. He maintained contact with the outside world through letters, refusing to leave the tower and his great work. His students supported his work, allowing him to work in peace with little to no distractions.

He now barely speaks to his students, sitting and staring off into the distance or at the stars for hours on end. He sits, filthy, ignoring the physical world in order to more deeply comprehend the spiritual and magical world of the gods. He is trapped in a prison of his own making, a dungeon of contemplation.

The druids never forgot the signs, never forgot the boy who was destined to rule the world. They still search endlessly for their hope, their light, their would-be god. The fate of the people of Marverni rests on their shoulders.

[dojango]

link to the map is here: http://z7.invisionfree.com/Dom3mods/...?showtopic=491