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The angel still had its faith, but without the Father of Greatness residing over the World of Light, permeating and imbuing that faith with His divine presence, faith was little more than a symbol; remembrance of all that had been lost. So the angel ran from the hoard of imps that chased it; ran from beings that it once would have smote with the barest registering of conscious thought. Down an alley ghost-hued in moonlight the angel ran, vaulting up a low stone half-wall to leap over a fence of iron bars, landing atop and falling from a pile of loose barrel staves, not stopping even at the unexpected sensation of pain that lanced upward from its rolled ankle. Hobbling on, the angel spared a glance back as the imps reached the iron fence. Calling the Fifth Son - Fire - the angel set the staves ablaze, marveling that such a simple invocation nearly proved too much for its exhausted soul. That the Fifth Son still existed, could still answer the call, was enough to make the angel want to weep in gratitude, but it buried the emotion much as it did the sensation of pain from its ankle.
The blazing staves temporarily forced the hoard of imps to pause in their pursuit, and the angel limped onward, turning a corner and finding itself in the open courtyard of a joined workshop and smithy. The angel retreated into the workshop, latching the door closed behind it silently. A gap between leather window shade and wall allowed enough moonlight in to make out the rough dimensions of the room, but little more. Careful to make as little noise as possible, the angel limped farther into the workshop, hands feeling its way along a wall that opened into a staircase that no doubt led to the smith's living quarters. Finding a stairwell down to a storage room, the angel made its way below to hide among the shelving, sliding to the hard dirt floor with its back against the wall.
Struggling to catch its breath, the angel hurriedly loosened the fastenings of its constrictive hard leather cuirass, worn as both disguise and protection, before taking several deep, calming gulps of air. Banished from the Heavenly Gardens to run for its life on the mortal plane, the angel was experiencing for the first time human limitations such as fear, pain and exhaustion. Once one of the proudest warriors of the Father's Host, the angel now wrestled with the heretofore unknown indecision between fight and flight.
The option was decided for the angel some moments later, when heavy footfalls overhead announced the its pursuers. The stairwell threw strange dancing shadows against the far wall as torch-bearing imps scrambled down the steps. Their pale, monstrous faces, dotted with pitch black spines that protruded from dozens of points along their bald skulls, contorted with animal glee as they saw their prey. The angel called of the Fifth Son again as it leaped to its feet, its invocation creating a white-light flare that burst above the imps' heads, blinding all within a few paces. The angel tore past the first imps in the confusion, but had only scaled half the stairs before it was overwhelmed by shear numbers as spine-tipped limbs grasped at it from all sides, bearing the angel to the ground where it struggled in vain as its cuirass was torn from its body. Pinned supine, the angel watched as those imps not holding it captive cleared out of the way, as another figure descended the steps.
Whereas the imps were monstrously ugly, the nephila bore no outward sign of its damnation and was in fact a being of unearthly beauty and grace, as befitted a fallen angel. Wearing a fitted silk robe trimmed in gold wiring that matched its lustrous blonde hair, the female-formed nephila stood over the bound angel with a cold sneer that could not mar its strange beauty.
"Mercy," the angel begged. "Have mercy, for the Father's-" the angel cut off as it realized that there would be no mercy for the Father's sake, from the very beings that had killed Him. With nothing else to say, the angel closed its eyes and waited for the end, which was delivered by the nephila as it crouched at the Angel's side to plunge the dagger into its exposed chest. The nephila waited for the blankness to come over the angel's visage as it expired, before turning and leaving the body behind for the imps to devour.
Upstairs from the storage room, the nephila encountered the smith and his wife and son, who'd come to investigate the commotion and were now cowering from the imps that stood watch over them. "Welcome to the Kingdom of Darkness," the nephila purred as it left the family to the imps' gruesome ends.
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It is the 546th Year of the Faith, and the evil entity known as the King of Darkness has overthrown its eternal enemy, the Father of Greatness, and has recast the World of Light in its corrupt image. Where once towns, cities and nations of various races lived and worked in relative peace and harmony, the Kingdom of Darkness is now spreading across the land. Whether army or individual, those heroes that stood up to the King of Darkness and its Dark Hoard were met with assured death to be followed by eternal punishment, while those that have accepted the Dark King as their new god have at least found some manner of peace in their abject slavery. Will you make the best of this living damnation, or will you struggle to free yourselves - and all others - from the Kingdom of Darkness?
Terms:
The World of Light - the realm created and watched over by the Father of Greatness, the World of Light comprises the ethereal plane known as the Heavenly Gardens, and the mortal plane, which is known as Verold. There have been many nations and peoples throughout the history of Verold, oftentimes at conflict with one another.
The Kingdom of Darkness - a realm that is the very antithesis of the World of Light - ruled by the King of Darkness, a wholly evil entity that seeks nothing but the corruption of the World of Light. The Kingdom of Darkness refers to this other realm, but also refers to the King's presence in the Heavenly Gardens and on the material plane as it rapidly conquers the nations of Verold.
Races of Verold:
Human - The most populous race on Verold, humans are beings of great versatility and ingenuity. There are so many different cities of humans on Verold that they can have quite distinguished physical and cultural differences between them, which has caused a great deal of conflict throughout their history. Despite their sprawling civilization the humans are a rather tribal and insular race, motivated to protect first family, then clan, then city, then nation - as shown by their famous aphorism: "My brother and I against my cousin; my cousin and I against the stranger."
[Racial Attribute: Alliance: Gain strength and defense per human ally in vicinity]
[Racial Skill: Critical Strike: Deal more damage and potentially stagger the foe]
Bogle - Also known as earthmen, bogles are a race of diminutive, humanoid creatures with skin tones ranging from pale green to dark brown, long pointed ears and oversized eyes. Bogles have a considerable affinity with the earth, especially prizing the acquisition of gold and rare gems. While they have quite an industrious nature and are skilled tradesman, the stereotype is of a greedy and crafty rogue. Bogles live in an underground city called Demaarkt, which is a complicated blend of a political plutocracy and social meritocracy, regulated almost exclusively by contract law.
[Racial Attribute: Night sight: See clearly in up to total darkness]
[Racial Skill: Convoke: Summon another bogle to your side for a short time]
Elfe - Elfes, or wood-folk, are a race in strong affinity with the World of Light, both in the natural world and with the heavenly beings. They can sometimes be as tall as humans but are very slender, with amazing grace and dexterity. Preferring the solitude of the forest or other tranquil natural settings, the long-lived elfes don't often meddle in human affairs except when their way of life is threatened, in which case diplomatic emissaries can be seen throughout the human kingdoms. Although capable warriors in their own right, it is the elfes' innate magical strength that truly makes them a force to be reckoned with.
[Racial Attribute: Heightened awareness: Natural intuition and keen senses raise perception]
[Racial Skill: Imbue Element: Objects can be imbued with one of the four elements for a short time]
Gygr - Also known as giants, the gygr are a powerful warrior race that have historically clashed with both human and elfe civilizations, although the last few centuries have seen a relative peace from these proud, savage people. Gygr range from 6 to 8 feet tall and can weigh several hundreds of pounds, with heavy muscles and a thick, armor-like hide. Nomadic and strongly individualistic, gygr do not socialize among themselves any more than they would with other races; in fact sometimes less, considering how often such meetings end with bloodshed. The gygr venerate glory and honor primarily with battle, with much of their culture and religion formed by ancestor worship.
[Racial Attribute: Bloodlust: Strength and defense are raised as you lose health.]
[Racial Skill: Frenzied Strike: Attack twice in one turn]
Other races: Please PM me with a short paragraph describing a race that you would like to see incorporated into the rp. No minions of darkness will be accepted as playable characters at this time, i.e. do not ask to create or play as an inherently evil race that would make most sense as an antagonist.
Character Sheet:
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[b]Attributes & Skills[/b]
Attributes - Passive traits that permanently affect the character.
Skills - Active abilities that the character can use. |