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"Sire! Sire!" The Scout panted, as he scrambled across the luxurious red silk carpet that draped the shimmering marble stones of the Castle. He was stopped by two pikes slamming down in front of him with a 'clink', drawing a small whimper from the scout as he slid to a halt. The King raised a single, refined hand, and the pikes were raised.
"Speak, and be heard." he announced, his voice booming through the halls.
"We've lost the Norse Armouries in Fryske." The scout wheezed, hyperventilating.
"Explain." The king growled, his hand tightening on the lustrous mahogany throne.
"Fryske was taken by a force from the Northern Wastes sire... there was... a Man and a Woman... full moon... looked like... like the Lupine, but they had these... these red eyes... and their tongues were... demonic... they had an army sire... an army like them, but not as wolfish... they... they swept over Fryske... the defenders didn't stand a chance... they were faster than men... stronger than our brutes... and it was as if they KNEW what was about to happen... their Mages... oh sire their mages were deadly... they blasted men into nothing, even the senior mages stood no chance..." the scout sobbed, collapsing into a heap.
The King rose, his mouth opening to boom some other command, before a cough sounded behind him, and two figures walked from the shadows, one of them a hulking man in shimmering Steel Armour, far taller and broader than any other man, and the other a Woman draped in the leather and robes of a thief. The man was the first to speak, his voice rumbling and gruff. "Sire, this is partly our fault."
The king swept around, his face contorted. "What do you mean? You are my Advisers!"
The woman spoke now, her voice honeyed and dagger-like. "Sire, we represent two Bloodlines. I represent the Blood Shadows, and my colleague represents the Steel Titans. But there is a third Bloodline sire, the Dread Wolves. We confined them to the North, because... well Sire, they are incredibly dangerous if they are allowed to become too powerful, I assume you are familiar with the Plague?"
The King nodded. "Demons swarmed the lands. Humanity barely survived."
"Well Sire, those were the Dread Wolves, allowed to grow too powerful." the Man grunted. "You see why we confined them to the north now."
"They broke out of the North a few weeks ago. We couldn't hold them back any longer." The woman sighed.
"But you will." The King boomed.
"Sorry, sire?" The woman asked, raising an eyebrow invisibly beneath her hood.
"You heard me woman! You will confine them once more!" The King thundered. "GO! Before the Council has your HEADS!"
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The Bloodlines
(One Star is the Human Average.)
Dread Wolves
Agility: *****
Senses: ******
Strength: *
Magic: ****
Magic Resistance: **
At Final 'Phase' they become Hellhounds
Steel Titans
Agility: **
Senses: ***
Strength: *******
Magic: *
Magic Resistance: *****
At Final 'Phase' they become Steel Golems
Blood Shadows
Agility: ******
Senses: ****
Strength: **
Magic: ***
Magic Resistance: ***
At Final 'Phase' they become Shadows
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Factions
Nationalists - Residing in the western half of the Midlands, the Nationalist kingdom is a kingdom of shrewd merchants and traders, with ties all over the land. The Nationalists have been fighting the Royalists for great periods of time, attempting to seize control over the whole midlands and bring it under a Republic. What they lack in skill, they make up for in numbers. Their flag is a blue cross on a gold-trimmed white background.
Royalists - A fighting kingdom, this eastern Monarchy is filled with experienced and powerful warriors, eternally in battle with the Nationalists. They are somewhat disorganized, as minor barons fight with other barons for control of the small region under Royalist control. They have the highest quality in terms of weapons are armor. Some say the only reason they haven't fallen yet is because they are being backed by the Council. Their flag is a golden circlet on a plain red background.
Council - A large and peaceful kingdom, the Council is a kingdom of philosophers and innovators. With low taxes and the best in living, the Council have the most comfortable living out of any of the four kingdoms. They also enjoy great trading from different parts of the world, and also act as the trading hub for the land. They don't keep a standing army, only recruiting from the common folk when the need arises. This usually gives them a large, if un-trained, army at any moment without having to pay for them for an extended period of time. Their flag is an orange tree with a mottled green background.
Ceyah - The smallest of the kingdoms, residing on the fringe of the deserts, they keep to themselves and will fight anyone they don't know who crosses the border. Few people know of their customs, though some say they are cultists of some evil god. If so, that's a lot of cultists. They have one of the largest armies around, which people know of because they frequently wage war on the Council across the border, though they are generally beaten back, as they have little military training and their weapons are rudimentary. They do trade with the Council, though they hardly ever speak during transactions, preferring to use hand gestures. Their flag is a red outline of crossed swords over a red outlined sun on a black background.
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A Bloodline needs to be awoken in a person with that Blood in their Veins through a Ritual, or it awakes when on the Edge of Death.
Once your blood is awoken it isn't instant "BOOM BETTER THAN EVERYONE". Your power grows through age and experience, as does your appearance. Dread Wolves gradually grow more Hellhound-ish, Steel Titans begin to turn to steel giants, and Blood Shadows gradually turn into red-eyed incorporeal shadows.
Experience does not necessarily mean Combat Experience. It can be experience in anything.
The Dread Wolf transformation is PAINFUL if you aren't an Anthro Wolf (Lupine) in the first place. Your bones shatter and re-arrange and stuff. Some people die from it.
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Map
http://www.roblox.com/Map-item?id=56439972
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Races
Humans
You are one idiot
Anthro
Anthropomorphic Animals and junk. NOT NEKOS. Wolves are called Lupine, Dogs Canine, Cats Feline, Horses Equine, etc.
Hellhounds
Anthropomorphic Hell Wolves, basically. Exist in the plane of Hell. NOT EVIL.
Demon
Comes in many forms. Exist in the plane of Hell. NOT EVIL.
Steel Golem
Giant Steel Constructs that lie dormant, thinking to themselves, until a Mage of sufficient power awakens them.
Shadows
Just, Shadows of People with glowing red eyes. They disappear in sunlight, and can't do anything to interact with others other than speak and move around on objects.
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On Demons
Once they possess someone (WILLINGLY. The host has to consent) they can start turning the host into a demon, or they can just wander off. Once they've possessed someone, that person is their 'anchor', and they can just take form again and wander off in the world. People who are turned into demons are already anchored to the human world by their birth, and won't be sent to hell once they become a Demon.
Hell is a horrible place, all Demons and Hellhounds want out of there as fast as possible. They can only do this by getting to a Portal, and often they have to fight to get to a portal. You don't want to go to Hell. Chances are you'll die because of an inability to breath boiling air and sulphur.
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Character Sheet? What? No. We're not doing it this way:
Person 1-
[Character Sheet]
Person 2-
[Character Sheet]
Person 1-
(Start?)
Person 2-
(Yeah)
Person 1-
[Character Name] was walking through [Such and Such]
Person 2-
[Character Name] looked up as they heard [Character Name]'s footsteps, and moved to approach them
We're doing it this way:
Person 1-
The air in the Tavern hung thick and heavy, the fire sputtering and crackling hopelessly in the tobacco-smoke filled air, casting a dim light on the young adventurer who sat nearby, hunched over in his chair, his matted black hair spilling from beneath the cotton hood of his robe, his youthful green eyes darting from place to place.
Person 2-
A hand came down upon the adventurer's shoulder, followed by a short grunt. "Never thought I'd see you in here old friend." the hand was removed, and a chair pulled up beside with a screech from the cobblestones, before an old, armoured knight sat heavily in the chair, which creaked in protest at his weight. "How've you been lately?"
But remember, my word goes. Be reasonable or your character will be forcibly killed off. |
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Seems to be a pleasant bean of epicness.
I shall join.
Leon
The young man Leon sat down at a table in a small tavern, lights lit, people chattering about. He was hooded in silver robes, as though he wanted no one to know what he sounded like. The chair he sat on nearly floated, due to his underweight. A man came over, and grabbed him, as if to fight. Leon just stood up and said in a low voice, "I don't want to fight. But if you provoke me..." he finished the sentence my smashing the man's gut, causing him to back off and sit down, gasping for breath.
Leon's robes look like http://www.aqBAAAAAAHworldswiki.com/index.php/File:LakenFormalSuit.png (Remove the baaah) |
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(Shoot, can't think of what my character will be like...) |
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Typo.
"As though he wanted no one to know what he looked like."
That's more like it.
By the way, he does have a hood. Ignore the fact that he has a face e_o |
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(Side notes that I forgot:
Demons and Hellhounds can only stay 24 hours in the Human World without an Anchor.
Late-Medieval/Early-Renaissance period. Swords and Armour and Crossbows and stuff.
And now, I will start us off.)
The Fire crackled cheerily in the Tavern, warding the fierce Northern Cold from the Patrons who gathered around tables and counters, muttering to each other. The word on everyone's lips lately was 'Fryske'. Fryske this, Fryske that. Ever since the attack everyone had been on edge. Although one Patron didn't seem as on edge, a young Lupine who sat near the fire, leaning her muzzle on the back of her clasped hands from her seat by the fire, long black hair dangling in front of her sharp yellow eyes, travel robe draped over her chair, leaving small, lithe muscles open to the air thanks to the rolled-up sleeves of her white cotton shirt, the main torso of which was dyed a deep red. Her leather boots were kicked off, left by the fire to dry along with a heavy fur coat, leaving only her brown cloth trousers, the bottom of the shaped legs still wet and clinging to her fur. A beautiful sword lay on the ground beside her, sheathed beside a whetstone. |
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podraptorJoin Date: 2008-10-13
Post Count: 19826 |
A man sat down by the cautious Tavern-keeper eying the Steppe Nomad carefully clasping a small flask in his scarred hands that contained anonymous contents. The Tavern-keeper had all rights in the world to keep watch under the barbarian. Tangled long black hair and filthy snow strewn braids escaped wildly from the man's leather fur trimmed acorn cap, and his fur tunic now wet from the melting snow due to the warm condition of the room. The broad-shouldered beast pointed at the barrel of ale adjacent to the Taven-keeper after pacing towards him, lugging a tempered Iron Claymore on his back, his blue-black eyes capturing the seen after receiving a pint of mead from across the counter. He leaned his Claymore down on a wooden stool beside him, proceeding to brush the snow off his furry breeches and twist his coarse hessian sash, turning his pale-skinned face down to examine the wooden stool now in front of him before sitting down and placing his flask squarely on the counter. |
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The woman slowly sighed, reaching behind her into the folds of her Travel Cloak, pulling forth from it a small leather sack tied with rope and locked with a brass padlock. She tested it's weight in her hand, before pushing herself to her feet, and approaching the counter, where she unlocked the sack, and pushed forwards a small, tarnished 'gold' coin. "A Glass of Wine, preferably one of the North-Eastern Border wines if you have them please." she requested, her voice carrying the to-be-expected ruggedness of the mountainous Lupine from the east, although this was softened, and had replaced by a more regal tone from time among the well-spoken traders of the Midlands. |
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firekjJoin Date: 2009-12-04
Post Count: 8294 |
(I wish to join. How would I create a random character?) |
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(It's simple. You write your character in. There's an example in the first part, and then you've got everyone else's posts to go by as well.) |
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firekjJoin Date: 2009-12-04
Post Count: 8294 |
(So, your saying you describe your character, by making a starting post? Now this is an impressive roleplay. |
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(Yes, as if you're adding to a book. Pod did this well.) |
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firekjJoin Date: 2009-12-04
Post Count: 8294 |
(BTW I saw your collab, I was going to post and say "Good idea. When do you plan on posting this?" , but I never got the chance.)
A man sat down on the wooden tavern seats. He took off his red (Sephiroth-like) jacket. He polished his sword's blade. His cerulean blue eyes glowed in the dark tavern, as well as his blonde hair. He stood up, his black shoes, making a large thump each time he took one step. His white pants were ruffled, he had then walked back to his seat and sat down.
(How's that?) |
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(Quite good.)
The Woman leant back into a barstool as the coin was swiped away, re-locking the sack as she settled in to wait for her drink, rapping her claw-like nails on the burnished oak of the bar counter, absent-mindedly swiping away an ashtray from her personal space. |
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firekjJoin Date: 2009-12-04
Post Count: 8294 |
The man cracked his knuckles, then set his foot on another seat, and polished his blade. |
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firekjJoin Date: 2009-12-04
Post Count: 8294 |
"A waste of time." He muttered and stood up. He stopped polishing his blade, and headed towards the wooden door, covered in wine stains, and blood stains. |
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((This looks very, very good. Great job Retal. I've been waiting to unleash a character for a while. Let's see if he'll get to play his role in this.)) |
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podraptorJoin Date: 2008-10-13
Post Count: 19826 |
Taking a large sip from his pint of ale, the barbarian rapped his blood-stained knuckles on the counter and reached into a small sack that was tied to his neck and covered by his fur tunic. He began to fiddle his hand in the sack, searching through the items stored within. Finally, he peered his eyes to the lip of the aperture and finally took out a small elegant pinewood carving. He then placed the carving onto the counter to the Tavern-keeper's trivial expression and began to speak to the object in low mumbles, further muffled by his dark wildly growing beard.
(That is now the complete description of my character.) |
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The woman gave a quiet thanks as a small glass of wine was pushed towards her, her hand gently taking it up, her sensitive canine nose sampling the aroma, before she took a small sip of it, tongue darting out into the rosy liquid and darting back as she pulled the glass away from her muzzle, before it rotated around where her lips would be, lapping up any wine that had managed to escape. "Hmm... a good wine, just what I asked for..." she muttered, setting the glass down to savour the taste that still lingered in her mouth. |
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podraptorJoin Date: 2008-10-13
Post Count: 19826 |
The man quickly finished the beverage due to his massive amount of breath, and sat there with the wood carving and the flask. By-and-by he took the flask with one hand and fetched to cork out of it with the other, beginning to anoint the small humanoid carving head to toe. After this process of prayer and humble gestures and offerings to what seemed like the barbarian's g.o.d, the Tavern-keeper piped up to the brute with his courage. "You paying for that, Goth?" He tensely inquired. The Tavern-keeper held his breath as the now greased carving was handed to him, pushed across the counter slowly. "What is this?!" The Tavern-keeper exclaimed, bewildered. "This is your soul... Your life... Your Savior..." A deep and sincere voice replied. Grudgingly but afraid, the Tavern-keeper eventually excepted the gift for the ale and took it carefully and cautiously. |
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The woman turned her head a little as she raised the glass for a second sip of wine, peering out of the corner of her eye at the Barbarian, thinking quietly to herself how strange it was to see a Barbarian that Religious. Of course, many of the Norse Barbarians had their gods, but they weren't usually all that Zealous about them. She kept an eye on the man as she took her sip of wine, not taking her time as much as before. |
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A shady individual was slumped on a table in the darkest corner of the lively tavern. Little could be seen of him, but he was unmistakely garbed in what was a long, billowing, black cloak. His head and face were wrapped in a deathly black bandage that only left one eye uncovered. The eye was of a deep, dark colour and it surveyed the room eagerly, slowly sweeping it. Next to the man lay a solemn object. It was of a cyllindrical shape and almost matched the man in height. The object seemed to be bound by the skin of a desert animal. No clue to it's contents was given.
The man straightened his stance before kicking up both legs on to the solid wooden table. There was an air, almost a stench, of death, of vindictiveness about him. His sharp ears were tuned into the many conversations of the room. He had a deadly, merciless look of seeking to him. One that did not bode well for the rest of the tavern occupants.
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podraptorJoin Date: 2008-10-13
Post Count: 19826 |
The barbarian said no more and ordered no more. He did not waver when a loud-mouthed laugh came this way, nor did he turn his head around when a belligerent drunk attacked him with insults and vulgar gestures. Overtime he began to look more with expression and with more activity in his movement. He gestured for the Tavern-keeper and said: "I would like Ulfhaarn back..." The Tavern-keeper raised his brow and looked clueless for a moment, then put the wood carving from before back on the counter as he regained his thought. "What'ya pay me with then?" The Tavern-keeper immediately said, forgetting he was speaking to the large man that had walked in not long ago out of hard snow, speaking to his god in public and scaring him so. "Nothing. Ulfhaarn wishes the drink a gift and good gesture, it will not be paid." The Tavern-keeper almost lost his temper and threw the dam thing at the man, but gritted his teeth and forked the carving over. |
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The woman held back a scoff as she watched the man, finishing her wine with a small flourish. Such a Zealot. She herself had never been one for Gods or Religion, and lived simply by her own moral compass. She looked away from the Barbarian, and slid from the barstool, crossing back to her seat by the fire, where she placed her coinpurse back in her Travel Cloak, before hefting the sheathed sword and whetstone, resting the sword on her lap, and tucking the whetstone away. The sheath her sword was in was made of reddened leather, with thin steel engravings that had peeled off in places. The sword itself had a polished steel crossguard in the typical cruciform shape, and a steel pommel shaped like a diamond, with the hilt wrapped in reddened leather. The pommel however had an indent in it on both sides, as if a gem was once there. The sword locked into the sheath via a brassy triangle protruding down the blade from the crossguard, forming a tight seal with the sheath. The woman leant back in her chair, claw-like nails clacking against the engravings on the sheath as she stared into the fire. |
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podraptorJoin Date: 2008-10-13
Post Count: 19826 |
(I'm not sure what to type next. Can I go outside now?) |
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