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Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff


You looked down at your feet, and saw the ocean waves lazily lapping against them, feeling the sand squeeze between your toes. The smell of salt in the air, and the gentle roar of distant waves felt distant, as you continued to walk out into the sea.

It was the dream again. You had experienced this many times throughout your life, but now, the dream came ever more frequent, and the calmness that you felt when waking was slipping away, sometimes waking in cold sweats.

This time, you felt a growing anxiety as your feet led you through the waves, the same path you had taken time and time again in your slumber. You no longer felt the sand beneath your feet, only the water as your feet slid through it, supported by whatever it was that guided you to the edge of existence.

Squinting, you saw something distant at the horizon, a faint band of darkness, darker than even the night sky above you, and your anxiety turned to dread as you looked to the sky and saw the stars start to wink out.

A rumbling, then a booming, chimes in the distance, and a louder alarm being shouted, with a rush you awaken in a start as the sounds of metal striking metal echo down the halls, and you hear your men fighting for their lives. Betrayal!

-----------------------


Forged in Faith is a smallgods game using PDQ where you play a mortal that transcends humanity into godhood; starting off you’ll be commanding armies, fighting for control of locations in a large civil war that has been decades in the making.

You are unique beyond the other men you fight alongside: an heirloom has passed down generation to generation, or stolen, or otherwise come into your possession that is the remnants of a god or a number of gods (i.e. a holy sword, or a cursed suit of armor).

Setting notes:

You are in a world that exists between other worlds, something the gods that had lived fought hard and possibly perished to create. It is a flat crystal plane with more normal topography upon it, and an ocean that extends to a vague “edge” that you have only been able to see in your dreams. At night, a dizzying display of stars and galaxies captivate and enthrall, but navigation is difficult because they tend to shift position, or new ones appear.

Most recently, some have begun to disappear completely.

At the start of this game, each player is a general, or daimyo, or any other person of a similar rank who has been betrayed out of their position of power. All they have remaining with them are their loyal followers of 50-100, usually soldiers that they have fought valiantly alongside. They also carry their divinely-imbued item.

Despite these betrayals, the civil war has just begun in earnest, dividing the world between north and south, and no doubt others look into the power vacuum opening in the world around them.

You can find the PDQ rules here: http://www.atomicsockmonkey.com/freebies/di/pdq-core.pdf

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Game Expectations

The scope of this game will start off as a Smallgods game good and proper, with a small boost relatively quickly, once everyone’s got their feet wet. It’ll stay smallgods in scope, culminating with the highest powerlevel being akin to an extremely powerful archmage or the like.

Humans and mythical beasts inhabit this world between worlds, and initially, the player characters will be some variation of human, though I will allow traits that suggest a distant demi-human blood or that type of thing.

The fundamental rules that can’t be altered:

The world cannot be destroyed or rendered unfamiliar.
New worlds cannot be created.
There are no hard-counters to things others have created. Life finds a way etc etc.
Players are allowed to have/act meta-game knowledge of what the others are doing with the rationalization that talk is cheap and this world has a strong oral tradition; everyone hears rumors from every corner of the world.

I unfortunately do not have time for IRC RP convos, but I gladly invite players to do that between themselves and post the chatlogs in the thread. The place to be for that is #ohgod.

Player vs Player Combat

It will invariably happen, and it’ll be run under the hood to prevent gaming it too hard. Surprises and group beatdowns will have advantages, but allow the other to have a chance.

You will be in a wounded state after losing all your ranks, which serves as a “last words” state. If you die, you will be allowed to roll a new character using something that exists within the game, i.e. a loyal follower etc.

Players can also challenge others to an Honor Duel, in which no others can interfere, but if refused the player declining will lose a significant amount of face based on the difference in ranks.

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Making your Character

Below is a template for your character. Note that you start with 1 rank (+2) of a quality known as a domain in this, reflecting your divine ability through your heirloom. You also have 1 foible (-2) reflecting some weakness you have.

Very early into the game, once you’ve established yourself in your surroundings, you will be given the opportunity to set up a similar thing for the soldiers/groupies/mob that follows you, so keep that in mind as well.

====================================
Name This and any titles/insulting nicknames you may have picked up.
Picture

+2 Domain(Item): Was it a scepter of Ice +2 that your father took from the ice colossus? Or was it the Golem’s Heart (Earth +2) that replaced your own when you were young? Please describe how this item/object came to your position, the legends behind it, and remember that its divine power is part of you now.

-2 FoiblePick something that you want to be used during this game. You can invoke this penalty deliberately in an action to gain a bonus die at a later time.

Your troop: Describe the group that follows you, who they are, how they’ve fought for you, a time they’ve saved you, a time you’ve saved them, etc.

How were you betrayed? It doesn’t have to be extremely detailed, but let loose. Someone wronged you to start you where you are in this game. How bad was it? Who was it? Do you know?

Which side were you with before the betrayal? Still working on the details on this, but either choose North,South, or Neutral, and a quick blurb on what made you choose this and I’ll try to incorporate it.

Name 2 things you’d like to do this game Again, it can be very general or very specific.

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Looking for 7-9 players, and I’ll keep the recruitment up for a bit longer than a week. Feel free to ask any questions you may have :)

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Valhawk
Dec 15, 2007

EXCEED CHARGE
I'm definitely down for apping. Is there any difference between the north and south, or are they both tabula rasas for the players to define?

ForeverBWFC
Oct 19, 2011

Oh, the lads! You should've seen 'em running!
Ask 'em why and they reply the Bolton Boys are coming! All the lads and lasses, smiles upon their faces,

WALKING DOWN THE MANNY ROAD, TO SEE THE BURNDEN ACES!
Daimyo Tadasu Hayashi, silver tongue.


+2 Domain(Item): Silver tongue +2. Said to have been given to the first great king, who united the first clans, when the world was young. This artefact is said to have belonged to Omoikane, the god of wisdom, to enable his followers to comprehend his vast intellect and cryptic speech. It imparts clarity to the listener, allowing them to hear a point framed exactly as they would best understand it (and, coincidentally, as they would best agree with it). It cannot change the hearts of those who are determined to live in ignorance, but to the open heart or the open mind, a whisper and a promise take on a new, subtle potency that is hard to deny.

Tadasu came across the tongue when a dream led him to an ancient tomb hidden under a mound in his father's lands. Once there, he claims he heard the kami tell him to venture into the dark, where he found a room with torches still impossibly ablaze. In the centre of the room lay an altar, with the body of a long-dead noble atop it, and a pedestal before it with a gilded silver box. Taking the box home, but fearful of opening it, Tadasu was bombarded with dreams for a week, whispers and promises filling his head at night. Eventually, he caved, and opened the box. No one but Tadasu knows what happened next, but it is rumoured that a servant came in to find the young man covered in blood, the smell of roasting flesh on the open fire, and a new silver tongue gleaming in his mouth. These are, of course, rumours, but what is undeniable is Tadasu's penchant for honeyed words and sweet promises...

-2 Foible: Inflexible thinking. When you have the ability to sway the minds and hearts of others to your viewpoint with ease, it is inevitable that you become convinced of the righteousness of your own words and deeds. Daimyo Hayashi is a smart man, of course, but once he is committed to an action he is very rarely swayed from it by the voices of others, and has great difficulty in admitting his own mistakes.

Your troop: Former bandit horsemen, ronin, thieves and villains. These are men who lay in wait by the roadside, before taking what isn't theirs. Somehow, however, Tadasu was able to persuade each of them that a life of crime is an ignoble pursuit, and that a career in his employ was a more stable, and profitable, enterprise. They are loyal to Tadasu, in their own way, certainly they would never betray him for anything less than double the right price, and they come with their own skills forged by a rough life of hard living and sharpened by combat. When Tadasu's silver tongue has failed to gain traction with a leader, his successor can often be persuaded, so accidents tend to follow Tadasu around. Though he prefers the subtle word in the ear, he is not afraid to use the men under his command more brazenly, such as the time they rode in to town that had threatened to hang him as a traitor and a bandit. The town stands no longer. In return, Tadasu has been true to his words, riding from town to town in the north and convincing local sheriffs and officials to drop outstanding warrants, and adopting ronin into his own house (a move that would be met with controversy if his house had any other living members. Still, legally it guarantees that his men no longer have the stain of belonging to no house upon them). Some would argue he is building a shadow army in the north, but to what purpose, no one knows.

How were you betrayed?: Tadasu was betrayed by the one man he truly thought was fit to call friend. Tadashi Umayaga was Tadasu's friend through childhood and military service, and companion both in the drinking house and on the battlefield. However, he desired the one thing that Tadasu couldn't promise to him, tongue or no, Tadasu's wife. Tadashi betrayed Tadasu, leaving him to die on a gods-forsaken battlefield, before storming his home, killing his servants and children, and trying to take his wife, who killed herself upon news of her husband's death, rather than be taken by another man.

Walking home alone through bandit country, Tadasu began to recruit his followers, building his strength to take on Tadashi, now an important general in his own right, and claim revenge over the fallen body of his former friend.

Which side were you with before the betrayal? Tadasu fought for the north, a land where the old clan names still meant something. Highly traditional, they still practised the old ceremonies, long since forgotten in other areas. They had cities, certainly, but the majority of nobles lived on their grand estates, with their servants, retainers and family members. Tadasu is a strong believer in these old ways, in honour and respect for your elders and social betters, he just happens to believe that no one should fall into that second category...

Name 2 things you’d like to do this game: Stand over the body of my wife's killer, a bloody sword in my hand, and use my silver tongue to unite the old clans of the north, as the first great king did.

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

Valhawk posted:

I'm definitely down for apping. Is there any difference between the north and south, or are they both tabula rasas for the players to define?

As of right now I'm still working on the details, but much of it is for initial player placement; you can spin it how you'd like and I'll probably mash together the parts that work best with what i've got, so feel free to embellish and we'll mush it together from there :)

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

ForeverBWFC posted:

Daimyo Tadasu Hayashi, silver tongue.

Excellent character, already gives me a ton of details to work with.

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?
Talos Blackblade

Domain (Item) (+2): The Vengeful Mask

Talos Blackblade is a naturally vengeful man. Once a brave soldier and lieutenant in the armies of Empress Neferi in the South, he (and his kingdom) fell to ruin when the Empress began to traffic with dark powers beyond all knowledge. Evil lurked in the hearts of men, and killers walked the streets. Some of the army's best defected, protecting the people of P'tash from these monsters in human guise. Others dehumanized themselves and faced the bloodshed, becoming murderers and dark parodies of their former selves. It was then that the disorganized groups of vigilantes and defenders of the common folk found their leader. Clad in black, face completely shrouded, Talos led the vigilantes of P'tash in their seemingly-hopeless crusade, until his fateful capture. In the dungeons beneath the Imperial Palace, Talos was tortured, beaten, and seemingly broken. In a moment of overconfidence from his captors, he slipped his bonds and carved a bloody swath through the Loyalist forces, seizing an innocuous mask from a chest of confiscated artifacts. It was only later that he would discover the mask's true nature - when it faced someone who had inflicted harm with malice in their heart, that harm would be inflicted on them sevenfold by its wearer. Talos used the mask to further his ends, protecting P'Tash from the evils of the Loyalists for a time. Eventually, the vigilante movement became a full-scale revolution, and the Empress was deposed, her one daughter who hadn't fallen to darkness placed on the throne, and the Protectors of P'Tash became the new guard and army of the nation, with Talos at their head.

Foible (-2): Unsubtle and Quick to Anger

Talos is the fastest blade in the South - and just as quick to use it. His anger is legendary, and he was known for bringing the full wrath of the Protectors down on any who tempted it. Thankfully for the world, he is controlled enough to focus his rage onto those who are evil and do harm unto others, but he has also been known to be working on a hair-trigger, as quick to get into tavern fights or snap a mugger's neck as he is to work out a siegebreaking assault on a madman's keep.

What is your troop like?

Brave to a man, and dedicated wholly to the cause of protecting people, the Protectors of P'Tash are a newly organized army. Trained in urban warfare, siegebreaking, and close-quarters combat, the Protectors, while still somewhat undisciplined, are eager, loyal, and motivated. They are, to a man, clad in leather armor with metal plates sewn in for shock absorption, and wield a mixed assortment of weapons as befits their nature as an initially-disorganized force.

Why were you betrayed?

History repeats itself. It always does. And Talos fell prey to it. The Empress' daughter, Rasha, sat upon the Imperial throne, with Talos at her right hand. Her reign was just and good at first, and Talos grew confident in her. But her trips to the dungeons below the palace grew frequent, and she found something. Some kind of relic, some remnant of the dark times from before, that infested her mind and twisted her soul. And so began her fall from grace. As time went by, Talos grew suspicious of her motives, and of the purposes she put the Protectors to. Eventually, one night, he brought his concerns to her, in a frothing rage, and withdrew the support of the Protectors from her empire. That same night, as Talos lay sleeping, she struck. The Protectors that had become loyal to her slew many of those who were loyal to Talos, and even made an attempt on Talos' life. Alas, the Mask intervened. The assassins who tried to slay Talos were killed, their own blows redirected into their chests through its magics. And so Talos and his remaining loyal Protectors fled into the desert under cover of night, to resume their crusade once more.

Which side were you on before the betrayal? Neutral. Talos had his own concerns. And on top of that, evil and malice know no loyalty - cruelty is a universal concept to be stomped out wherever it rears its head, be it North, South, or in the empty heavens themselves.

Two things you'd like to do in the campaign:
Fight the Elder Things responsible for the fall of P'Tash and exact bloody vengeance upon them.
Ascend as not just a champion of vengeance, but of justice.

goodness
Jan 3, 2012

When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?
Jumping on this, will post when the muse strikes.

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

Tempus Rimeblood posted:

Talos Blackblade

Looks good, a strong neutral position to shake things up :)

LLSix
Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

phone posting so I apologize if the formatting is all screwed up.
Shun Di
Shun Di’s father, He Gar, is a Southern Lord who rules from a great city built beside one of the few rivers in the region. Most of his territory is a thinly populated savanna where hardy nomads roam. Only the bravest of the nomads dare to try to tame the fierce griffons that soar through their skies; the rest make do with more mundane mounts. As a young man, He Gar was seduced by Tsukiyomi, the goddess of the moon. Why she did this, no man can say. Tsukiyomi is as inscrutable as she is changeable. When He Gar returned from his time with the goddess, he carried a young babe in his arms, Shun Di. He seemed normal enough as a child, but as he grew he began changing.

First it was just his eyes. They would change color from day to day; blue or brown or gold or violet. Inhuman colors. The changes grew more extreme as his powers grew, but then the changes became less frequent and more normal until finally they tapered off altogether about the time Shun Di was 8. His family and the court breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was all over. Shun Di grew into a powerful man and was given command of the Royal Griffon Deghans as a sign of his father’s favor. Then one day, Shun Di was wounded in battle while saving his father’s life. When He Gar saw the vivid purple blood trickling from his son’s side, he knew then that his son was now, and always would be, an inhuman monster.

Alter Shape +2: The potent power of the moon flows through Shun’s veins and just as the moon changes from night to night, so too can he change his shape. He can take the form of a griffon, or a great owl, or a leathery tentacle best or any other shape his will and imagination can coerce his mostly mortal flesh to assume. But he was born a human, and that is the shape he most often takes.

One day, not long after the battle where Shun Di saved his father’s life; He Gar invited his son to a private banquet. All the food served to Shun Di was laced with terrible poisons. Any one of the poisons would have killed a normal man, and together they were more than enough to kill a griffon or an elephant. That night, the poison in Shun Di’s stomach tried to kill him, but sustained by his mother’s power flowing in his veins it could not kill him.

Terrible Thirst-2: Even though the poison could not kill Shun Di, it left its mark. The potent cocktail still burns inside him, inflicting incredible agony on his every waking moment. Recently, Shun Di has discovered that the only thing that can mitigate the pain is drinking the blood of others. As their blood flows into him, it dilutes the poisons coursing through his blood and lessens the pain. For a time.

When his father came to check on Shun Di in the morning, he was shocked to see his son still alive. In his shock, he ranted and raved about how Shun Di was a monster and must be slain, revealing his crimes to his son before drawing his sword to finish the deed. Still wracked by pain and bewildered by his father’s actions Shun Di could only run. He was lucky enough to encounter some of the Royal Griffon Knights, and at his urging, they helped him fly from his father’s lands.

Troops: Griffon Riders Only the bravest of men dare to try to tame the ferocious flying lions called Griffons. Of those, only the most loyal and skilled are invited to become members of the Royal Griffon Knights. Skilled with bow, lance and sword; they are a deadly and versatile foe, but small in numbers. [i]I figure each rider counts as one follower, and the mount should count for one as well, so probably start out at only 50 strong or half as many riders as the average troop size[/b]

What side? The South Side! The South is home to many strange and fantastic beasts. Perhaps the strangest are the Talking Heads. The Talking Heads are spheres half eye and half huge gaping maw and possessed of an endless hunger. A hunger for conversation. The Talking Heads are quite peaceful, and float slowly through the air, often along trade routes looking for someone to talk to. They are often considered something of a pest, for they will continue talking for hours whether you want to listen or not. They are tolerated however for they sometimes bring news of distant places and are usually willing to carry messages as long as you listen to them first.

What do I hope to do?
A) To crush my enemies; see them driven before me and to hear the lamentations of their women.
B) It would be cool if Shun Di transformed his followers into lesser versions of himself and/or they tried to kill him because he satisfied his terrible thirst too often. Maybe wait to transform them until he has a few more powers (super strength maybe) under his belt.

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
You had me at 'God Game'. Reserving this spot.

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Legality Wu did his best not to scratch, itching furiously from the bites of the woodmites and past weeks without a proper bath. Although it was by now threadbare and stained through with the mud of rough travel, he nonetheless fastidiously tucked in the sleeves of his silken courtier's robe and folded his hands thrice before falling to his knees before his Divine King.

"My Divine King, this humble servant does not dare to think he knows your mind but... might it not be timely for us to leave the forest and seek out those of our allies which remain loyal to the Golden Throne? The hunters are not so far behind, and lately we have heard that the bounty has been raised to twice its weight in gold for the head or hands of any ape. Even now as we speak your traitorous former Ministers no doubt plot further outrages against you while cementing their own grasp over the throne. Does not the Dao tell us that while it is right and just to wait for the most propitious circumstances, it is also right to act before all is lost?"

Lazing idly atop a heavy branch over the river, Sun Shahar cracked open a furred eye and smiled downwards at the old man as if party to some secret and hidden joke. (lice. the joke was lice, a great profusion of delicious and crunchy lice he'd scattered in the old man's bedroll overnight) It was a credit to the old man's dignity and sense of decorum that he'd held up so long and so well but Shahar knew that his patience would be rewarded.

"I do not totally agree with the Daoists," he said. "And I think you would have us take too much upon ourselves. Making history is hard work and it may be dangerous. I think I will have a cup of tea, sun myself by the river, and contemplate inaction."

He toyed with the tip of his tail, at once both proud and fascinated by its sleekness and the fineness of fur. What a magnificent tail it was! Shahar grinned as he rolled over on the branch and faced the courtier while hanging from his feet. He tapped at his chin with one hand contemplatively.

"On the other hand, there is the story of Civil Engineer Gong. He was traveling on government business and had to cross a river. A large river dragon bumped the boat. Now, the boatmen were terrified, and clutched their charms and gifts of divine appeasement in the hopes that the dragon would pass them by. Gong remained calm. He said 'I am doing my utmost in the interest of the people, discharging my duties in obedience of my King and Heaven. Living I am a guest. Dying I go home to my ancestors. Why should I be disturbed? The dragon is merely a lizard."

Holding himself upright (and upside down) with legs divinely more powerful than man or ape alike, he sat downwards into the familiar and traditional lotus position. Legality Wu remained on his hands and knees, his silence serving as the implicit emphasis of his earnest request. Shahar sighed. Today was not the day the old scholar asked to be groomed after all. Clearly more lice were required.

"The dragon flattened its ears and dropped its tail, then swam away. Gong continued on his journey. I've always liked that story. Now, have the others brew me a cup and come have a seat. We have weighty matters of the head to discuss. All joking aside old friend, I'll ease your worries."

He relaxed his grip and faster than the eye could follow slipped around the branch and up the tree to its highest point where he took a precarious but stable enough seat, confident that between duty and martial training the old man would follow. Shahar shaded his eyes against the midday sun and squinted into the distance.

"I am searching for the Crystal Falls from which the First King's people came. You know, the wise ones with powerful magic, strength several times that of any mortal man, and awe-inspiring beauty? They're out there Wu, I know it. I can feel it."

"But my King, the Wise Ones are an allegory for how the First King descended from the mountains and the grace and social harmony represented by the people of his first court, a myth like-"

"like how the First King was was born from a stone, covered in fine and beautiful silvery fur, had bright red eyes which peered instantly into the hearts of men, and powerful limbs which let him leap into the air to impossible heights with the slightest effort?"

Shahar finished the old man's sentence for him, ruffling the silvery fur of his own chest and pointedly studying his fingernails without a trace of sarcasm or irony in his tone. He fluttered lashes over his own crimson eyes. Legality Wu hauled himself up the tree with no little grace, making the final leap upwards to the tree's crown by taking clever advantage of the more flexible higher branches. He found himself a solid branch and resumed his kowtow.

"They were apes, Legality. Apes as I am now and apes as the First King was. We will find them and I will break open their coffers for their best wine and sweetmeats and then we shall have a banquet like none seen in this mortal Age. Then perhaps I will discuss with their leaders on how we may best correct the errors of our society's growth."

Magical talking sage-apes? Legality's cynicism and doubt warred with ironbound loyalty and his own encyclopedic knowledge of the Land's historical texts. There were a great many references to the Wise Ones which in retrospect made a great deal more sense if they were actual, physical apes...

"And we'll find you a fine monkey bride! Only the finest and most delicate of beauties for my good and trusted friend! Kekeke!"

Sun Shahar, Divine King of the Land of Flowers and Fruits, Monkey



August Crown of the Sage Incomparable Beneath the Heavens +2: An ordinary crown perhaps, with an extraordinary origin. The crown of the Land of Flowers and Fruits is a relic from an ancient age. Originally thought to be unmagical beyond its cleanliness and gloriousness, the August Crown is one of the adornments worn by the first Divine King gifted to him by others to celebrate his ascension as a Sage Incomparable Beneath the Heavens. It has recently displayed a new ability, and its current bearer Sun Shahar has begun the process of becoming something. Something less than human? Or more ape-like? It is a crown befitting a king and ape and has given Sun Shahar the ability to be both and excel in it.

Monkey's Form Monkey Thought -2: Is a man an ape or an ape a man? Shahar's transformation has wreaked changes to his body, muscles hardening and growing taught, and fur growing where there was no fur before. But the changes go deeper than fur and skin, and Divine King has found himself on more than one occasion screeching, capering, eating insects, and flinging feces as form follows function.

Troops: Imperial courtiers. The Land of Flowers and Fruits is an ancient one. Founded in antiquity by wonders of war and magic, it is peopled by a fecund but orderly folk. It has resisted the many changes and upheavals of the ages, with all authority and power devolving to the Imperial Court in the name of the Divine King. Over time the bureaucracy and inertia of ages saw the creation of a more enlightened breed of courtier, men who embodied the ideal gentleman scholars of old. Such men are literate in the arts of medicine, magic, and war while also maintaining a strict adherence to the laws of decorum. The Imperial Service Examination itself comprises of dozens of written and oral exams which take place over a course of weeks.

Of the Ten-thousand Scholars of the Imperial Court many have been killed, scattered by the winds of fortune and war, or lost faith in a king whose existence defies all order and etiquette. Only the only the most skilled and dedicated of the Imperial Court's scholars and courtiers remain beside their King in exile, and though loyal these are desperate and hardened men indeed. These are the Sages whose scholarship holds to the clandestine, esoteric, or martial arts, or those with strength enough of will to survive on forest fruits and insects beside their ape-like king.

Why were you betrayed? Shahar donned the August Crown in his thirteenth year and ascended to the throne as was right and good. It was not until some decades later when the magical (and possibly divine) ability of the crown made itself manifest but when it did it was sudden and spectacular. A jape or a jest at one royal banquet or another caught the man chuckling as he scratched himself idly. The chuckle turned to laugh, a laugh to a guffaw, and a guffaw to a full throated screech as the king leapt from his seat and began a bawdy pantomime to the horror of all guests. Incensed by the change, the king raced through the Imperial city performing various crude and immodest crimes against society and various international ambassadors.

This transformation and insult to proper order has led to a courtside revolution, which initially clandestine and quiet is now one with outright violence. The Ministers and nobility have conspired to band together and drive out the vulgar animal which once thought itself to be their king, and a new council of regents holds power. A government bounty has been issued for the head and hands of any monkey of any size, and those proclaiming fealty to Shahar have been declared insalubrious to social stability.

What side? Neutral Side! The Land of Flowers and Fruits is a rich and fecund kingdom, and sits bestride the other nations of the world smack dab in the middle of everything. As it it should be. The foolish and inconsequential wars of barbarian North or depraved South have no true bearing on the august and harmonious internal workings of the Land of Flowers and Fruits. It's true that the borderlands may have seen an increase in refugees and banditry, and there may have been a disruption in the steady and orderly flow of trade goods to the Imperial City, but those are at best temporary and transient events in the long history of the Land of Flowers and Fruits. As Gods and nations struggle and die, the Land's people turn inwards by order of their highly educated and rulers.

What do I hope to do?
Astride a blazing cloud I shall steal Heaven. (Or assault it w/e)
Poop across somebody's fancy party
Profit

I'll edit this into completion gradually but you get the idea. A man who is a monkey or a monkey who is a king. Is followed by a gang of hardbitten Confucian scholars who really wish they were somewhere else. Throws poop. Plays pranks. I was originally thinking of being a literal monkey from a kingdom of monkeys so let me know how well that works out for you. Lives in a kingdom founded by a magical warrior sage mountain ape who may or may not have left a cursed item behind for his descendent. Kingdom is also very bureaucratic and orderly, and purposefully turns a public blind eye to activities of external nations. Single Male Monkey seeks Ancient Monkey-Sage Kingdom.

Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at 03:00 on Mar 17, 2015

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Jurou, The Last Scion, Marshal of the Black Sun Guard, The Unliving



There was once a great noble family. Of vast wealth and healthy respect from friend and foe alike. The Daimyo was blessed with 9 strong sons, all of whom aspired to greatness, great in their abilities as they were in their arrogance, they were some of the best and brightest of their time. But the 10th son was content with his lot and humble in dealings with all he met and as such he was given command of the household guard and the responsibility of protecting his Father.

But in the end, it was no outside threat that destroyed this noble house, its destruction came from within. The reasons as to how, why and even when were lost to time, but the 9 brothers rose up in rebellion, and as the castle burned and the house hold guard were slain to the last man Jurou was the last one to die, mounting a desperate last stand to defend his lord from what he thought was an enemy without, and only when one of his siblings ran him through when he retreated into the castle itself, did he learn the truth of his siblings' terrible betrayal and he died with a curse on his lips. This is where the story of the 10th Son would have ended.

But, on the 40th day and 40th night from the ruins of a most foul and vile betrayal, did the 10th Son rise from his grave, to see his charge to it's very last step. And he would cross 7 burning hells for his justice.

Domains (Items) -
+2 Unlife (The Last Retainer)
- The sword that once belonged to the captain of the household guard, a sword of exceptional quality and craftsmanship, but the blade was broken in the last user's final moments and now serves as a dark reflection of himself. Once this was a weapon of a true guardian, a sword whose purpose was to preserve life rather then take it, whether of the charge of the household guard, or the small folk under his protection the sword shielded them from that which seeked to harm them, whether man, beast or otherwise, but with their death the sword's purpose became dark and twisted. It's role to protect others from death remains, but the means that it accomplishes this have been altered to say the least.

+2 Light (The Fallen Star of Mori) - (Can also be used for a +4 Light check once, and is then destroyed with consequences) The last gift of Jurou's father to him, retrieved from the family shrine. This was a star that he had taken from the sky to become a god, and with it attained a good deal of status and power. But it seems as though this gift was a curse in disguise and so the spirit that had granted this boon Hachan, had doomed him to fall. Is the curse extended to all of House Mori? The pearl glows with a radiant unearthly light that seems to unnerve the unliving scions under him, but not Jurou himself.

Foible -2 Abomination unto Nature - Jurou is a thing that should not exist, a risen corpse that came back from the dead to unleash a terrible vengeance on those responsible for it's greatest failure. It is not a label that makes one suited to dealings with the pious, or the noble, or anyone living really, and even the most underhanded villain errs when dealing with the dead.

Your Troop - The Black Sun Guard - The sole remains of the once expansive and well trained house guard of the forgotten clan, now a shadow of their former selves, the Black Sun Guard are the last remnants of long and proud heritage. Although their equipment is old and rusted from the touch of the grave, Death has not dulled their ability in combat, and undeath has only made the notoriously die hard Sun Guard even harder to kill.

In life, Jurou led the Sun Guard in many glorious victories for his lord, when a lavish banquet was little more the a ruse for an opportunistic bandit lord to attempt to seize power, it was the Sun Guard that drove them off, with Jurou slaying the Bandit Lord himself. And when Jurou was wounded on the battle for Janwong Peak, it was the Guard that continued to hold his position in his absence until the battle was won and their leader could receive proper aid. When Jurou rose from the dead, only a handful of the Guard came with him, but they retain the loyalty they held in life as they now assume their role again in death.

Why were you betrayed? - Jurou never knew the reason why his brother's betrayed their family in life, and in death he doesn't know much more. But what he did know fills him with a simmering rage that even death cannot quench, for his 9 Brother now supposedly held positions of power and office in the kingdoms of the South. Whether that means a Southern King put them up to the task of slaying their father, or that they went on to serve the southern monarchs and were rewarded for their efforts, he does not know. But it gave him a very vague idea of what he could do to find them, and that was enough.

What Side - The North remembers. They may not remember the name of the house that is now held by the unquiet dead, but they know that despite the revulsion of many from the monsters in their midst, that their first and foremost charge was to protect the northern kingdoms from the southern barbarians and they will continue to do that even in death. Where the newly risen dead fit into the normal hierarchy however, has been a topic for much debate among-st the courts of the North.

Things I would like to do

1. Take revenge on my former family members for their crimes against our house. And by extension anyone else responsible.
2. Find a place in this world for beings such as us. Where in the natural order of the world, do those who have died and yet live lie?

TheNabster fucked around with this message at 17:36 on Apr 5, 2015

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff
Puppies, LLSix, both look solid.

TheNabster, just so I know, is your troop a bunch of spooky skeletons or more like a vaguely undeathly aura-ish thing but they look non rotten type of thing?

ForeverBWFC
Oct 19, 2011

Oh, the lads! You should've seen 'em running!
Ask 'em why and they reply the Bolton Boys are coming! All the lads and lasses, smiles upon their faces,

WALKING DOWN THE MANNY ROAD, TO SEE THE BURNDEN ACES!
Hey Zombie, HiKaizer told me to tell you this is my first app, so I am doing. Thanks for complimenting it by the way!

HiKaizer
Feb 2, 2012

Yes!
I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

ForeverBWFC posted:

Hey Zombie, HiKaizer told me to tell you this is my first app, so I am doing. Thanks for complimenting it by the way!

I can confirm this, he is a newbie so treat him gently.

As for my app, while the whole all humans thing is a bit eh for me I do have an idea. Someone with a cursed demon relic, who steals souls. I am considering a fallen virtuous warrior who is for the moment in the morally ambiguous grey zone of remembering his morals but also willing to do what needs to be done.

Skeletome
Feb 4, 2011

Tell them about the tournament!

Colour me interested! Also this is my first ever app so let me know what I'm doing right/ wrong!

Zaffi Manda, The Foul Ascetic, Lurker of the Gloaming Quag




Domain(Item): +2 Mire: The Sunken Helmet- Taking the shape of a revered bovine, the Sunken Helmet was found caked in generations of mud. No amount of scrubbing has ever give shine to it. The only light it brings is a somber blue, said to be the last true tears of its owner. There is a portence in its form- an encroaching filth that threatens to creep across any life it touches. Man and beast alike are dragged under its influence with prolonged agony. Eventually, they become mirthless beasts of mud and plant. Just like the quag it was found in, the Sunken Helmet brings a constant defilement to any lands it desecrates. Once the murk governs all and the Gloaming Quag envelopes, only then will the sump-like eyes finally give up their feeble light. The one who wears it drowns in mud every day, and stalks his lands at night. They say he is always wet and cold to the touch. Fire causes him pain, but the cold brings no comfort.

Foible: -2 Morosity- Zaffi is filled with a terrible gloom. The helmet forced onto his face clouds his judgement, and delights in his most sullen guilts. He cannot inspire warriors to fight at his side- nor can he delight in the pleasures of leisure. His ill-temper makes him a pathetic, lonely figure- more husk than tribal general.

Your troop: The Fen-Axes have served as the bulwark of the Savi Wetlands since their conception from the first tear of the Goddess Dashte. What they lacked in formal training they made up with deception. Lightly armoured, they moved with surprising speed through thick mud and were ruthless hunters. Blanketed in dark mud, they preferred to drown or suffocate their aggressors in unkind fen, but were more than capable of hacking their way through foes.

Zaffi proved his worth leading the Fen-Axes during the ambush on the Bade Peat, lands of a splinter tribe. Legend has it that he hid five-hundred men inside the decayed vegetation, staying there for four days and four nights. When their enemies arrived Zaffi gave the order for the ambush, and despite being out-numbered, their trickery and terrain gave them a strong advantage. The Fen-Axes proved their loyalty during a religious insurrection. False prophets had attempted to coerce them with gold and luxuries unheard of. Those closest to Zaffi dumped the goods, and the prophets, into a large sink-hole.

Now that Zaffi has taken the helmet, the Fen-Axes have been coerced by their own guilts and doubts. Slowly whittled into warriors of mud and plant, they form a somber brotherhood- the only enthusiasm they can ever birth comes from their dark family.

How were you betrayed? The Dashtean Prophets were the backbone of Savi life. In older times, they kept the tribes safe from the horrors lurking in the dark with ritual. Eventually that role was taken over by the Fen-Axes, and the Prophets kept to governing life. When, after months of digging, they unearthed the Sunken Helmet, it took days of discourse to decide on its purpose. They looked to Zaffi- strong, capable leader of the Fen-Axes. Adored by his loyal tribesmen and his love. Seeds of doubt and a weakening balm rubbed into his limbs made him fear his ability to defend the Savi Wetlands. He looked upon all he had fought to protect one final time, and in the cover of midnight, welcomed the helm onto his head. From there, all he had ever loved turned to filth. The quag all from him, and whispered that it was his weakness. Shadows of conquering tribes play in his mind, and he can do nothing but blame himself. The Prophets still live on, and their chuckles echo in the pitch of the bog.

Which side were you with before the betrayal? The South. The North brought aggressors and war to the Savi Wetlands. While they drowned like rats, their transgressions were not forgotten. In later years Zaffi has grown the determination to stamp out the invaders that exist only in his mind- and woe betide those whom he mistakes.

Name 2 things you’d like to do this game
1. Zaffi feels like a very lonely and bleak character. I'd like to hope that there is a path of redemption. The Wetlands are a way of life- they do not necessarily need to bring death. Perhaps he can find the strength to overcome his guilt, and use his curse in peace. For that to happen, he must find the truth of the deception played against him, and crawl out from the sump his mind is in.
2. I'd like if Zaffi could find a friend. Not necessarily a best buddy OMG we'll die for eachother, but a cause for him to feel something again, even if it's just a smile.

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

HiKaizer posted:

I can confirm this, he is a newbie so treat him gently.

As for my app, while the whole all humans thing is a bit eh for me I do have an idea. Someone with a cursed demon relic, who steals souls. I am considering a fallen virtuous warrior who is for the moment in the morally ambiguous grey zone of remembering his morals but also willing to do what needs to be done.

As far as the human thing goes people are stretching it as much as they can haha, so you have a pretty broad range.

Redhotkick, looks good :)

Zombie #246 fucked around with this message at 02:42 on Mar 6, 2015

Rauri
Jan 13, 2008




Victaria Caspiel, the Rightful Queen of Endal. I permit my friends to call me Taria when no one else is around.


The Cessiamon, aka the Wyrmkiller's Armament (Battle [+2])
My ancestor, Valis the Invincible, used this peerless weapon nearly seven hundred years ago to forge Endal out of a dozen tribes, fiefdoms, and most notably - and from where the weapon got it's name - a dragon and its holdings. The legends say he was a mighty warrior, and was gifted the weapon by the gods to unite the land in peace under a single banner. He was called the invincible for good reason; fighting in hundreds of battles throughout his long life, he never came across a foe capable of defeating him. The Cessiamon certainly helped him with that - I know from experience just how formidable it is. Shifting from lance, to spear, to sword as the wielder needs, it's perfectly honed and sharpened no matter the form it takes. Most weapons can't withstand even a single blow before being broken, and all but the mightiest armors are rent asunder effortlessly.

That father chose me to wield it, and not Caram, should be proof enough to the lords and dukes of Endal that I am his rightful heir. It's been passed down our line ever since Valis gave it to his heir, always one king in the twilight of their life bestowing it to their son. Father may have broken with tradition in giving the Cessiamon to me, but that's even more evidence of how true an heir I am, and how unworthy he knew Caram to be.

Arrogant [-2]
I've been told that I'm prideful, overconfident, and generally arrogant. Try as I might, I simply don't see it. I'm a matchless warrior, well educated and intelligent, with zealously loyal followers and an entire kingdom dying to fly my banners upon my return. I'm the true heir to the most prestigious family in the world, am beautiful and virtuous beyond compare, possesses a keen tactical and strategic mind, and my accomplishments outstrip those of nearly everyone else, despite my youth. Given how divine I seem, accurate appraisals come across as rather arrogant - but it's just a matter of stating the truth. It's not my fault if my perfection is off-putting to some; it's theirs for being so obviously envious.

The Crownguards: My retainers have been with me ever since I went from playing with training swords and practice dummies to using real weapons and opponents. At first it was just to give me other nobles and young men of good standing to spar with, but as I got older and began to traverse the kingdom on my own, they came with me. Whenever I sought battle - usually with barbarians near our borders, though there were the occasional brigands and outlaws - they fought alongside me. We've grown to trust each other, and I know I can count on their undying loyalty. Though only sixty remain after my brother's treachery, every man is worth ten of my brother's followers. Armed with spears, swords, and shield and wearing well-crafted Endalen plate and commanded by captains I handpicked from their ranks for their intelligence and dedication, if I had to I could nearly conquer Endal with just them at my back.

Battle of Eldro's Clearing: While I was away from the capital, King Trenen, my father, died - I say murdered - and my brother seized the throne for himself. Despite our father having made it clear to both of us that I was to inherit the throne, that I was the more deserving of us... he stole it from me all the same, and many of my vassals supported him in this treachery. When I attempted to return from the barbarian frontier, the three hundred Crownguards that I had at my command were met by a force of nearly two thousand, a day's ride from Livalis the capital, at a little village named Eldro's Clearing. They told us of what had happened, and they demanded we surrender our weapons (like common bandits) to them and head to Livalis to swear fealty to King Caram. I balked, and they attacked us.

If it hadn't been for my loyal retainers dragging me from the field, I'd have died that day - I was furious beyond mortal reasoning, and was determined to kill every man there who'd attacked their true sovereign. We killed hundreds, but each loss was a tragedy - each was one of my subjects, slain by my brother's treachery as sure as my own butchered men. Of my three hundred Crownguard, I lost all but a sixth in that battle - the most loyal and capable among them remain, but still. For now, while I rebuild my army, recruit allies and gather supplies to restore myself to my throne, they'll have to be enough. I refuse to let Caram cheat me out of my birthright.

Affiliation? Endal is neutral - in fact, my retainers and I had been out at the border, as there'd been word of barbarians in the area and I wanted to see for myself what the situation was, and if they might be preparing to attack us. I fear my brother will have the chance to plunge my kingdom into chaos, foolishly allying it with either north or south on a whim, before I get the chance to reclaim it.

Name two things you’d like to do this game
  • Fight and intrigue (maybe with the help of another PC or two) to reclaim my kingdom. After all, Endal is neutral right now, but if it joined the north or south it will affect the outcome of the war...
  • Become a warrior of worldwide renown and legend - ie, publicly fight another Godling to determine the course of an important battle, lead a glorious cavalry charge against an impossibly huge army, etc.

And now, without the arrogance...
Endal's not as big or important as Victaria makes it out to be, though it is a largeish kingdom in the west that is still neutral in the war. She's kind of spoiled, and is gonna have to get used to not having luxuries available. She's also not as talented or awesome as she claims, nor is House Caspiel / Endal the envy of the world. They're probably thought of as distant, narcissistic and xenophobic assholes. Caram's claim is less legit than hers, but their father didn't do enough to publicize his intentions so there's some murkiness in that area for the crown's vassals to take advantage of. She'd probably be a better ruler though, since he's a duplicitous poo poo.

Victaria's opinion of the other PCs posted:

Daimyo Tadasu Hayashi - I hope you gain vengeance for your kin, noble Daimyo.

Sun Shahar - A king should be above man and beast, not an embodiment of all at once.

Jurou - Jurou, you should fight for me. Such a faithful and loyal servant.

Zaffi Manda - When I've won my kingdom, I shall put you out of your misery.

Bjorn Olofson - I'd hate to be the one to finally skin your mangy wolves, but I'd love to face them in battle all the same.

Tangan Ombak - No matter his tricks, he's still maimed. I pity him.

Anselm the Black - The songs that would be sung of our fight... Light against dark, royalty against outlaw, woman against man, divine weapon against demonic armour. It's perfect.

Ehecamini - A noble animal, and one I hope to see succeed in its quest.

Aiden Beirne - Most intriguing, which is more than can be said for most peasant mobs and their leaders.

Chief Conciliator Amerigo Hieronymus - While your ideals may be misplaced, I cannot deny your passion. I'm in need of a seneschal, perhaps you could put Republicanism aside for a while?

Karin Handel - If she truly wished to bring stability to the east, she'd fashion her precious coins into a crown. The world could use more queens.

Etel - The King of Barbarians is still just a Barbarian. Enter my lands and I'll add your bow to my armory.

Rauri fucked around with this message at 17:54 on Mar 16, 2015

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART

RedHotKick posted:

Name 2 things you’d like to do this game
1. Zaffi feels like a very lonely and bleak character. I'd like to hope that there is a path of redemption. The Wetlands are a way of life- they do not necessarily need to bring death. Perhaps he can find the strength to overcome his guilt, and use his curse in peace. For that to happen, he must find the truth of the deception played against him, and crawl out from the sump his mind is in.
2. I'd like if Zaffi could find a friend. Not necessarily a best buddy OMG we'll die for eachother, but a cause for him to feel something again, even if it's just a smile.

Monkey'll have all the dick innuendo and fecal-related pranking of other Gods required to crack smiles out of every last one of you. You wait and see. :colbert:

Valhawk
Dec 15, 2007

EXCEED CHARGE
Bjorn Olofson



In the far south are a land of ice and mountain, these lands once were the home of barbarian tribes that raided throughout the southern half of the continent. Eventually, the empire sent forces to crush the local and bring civilization. That was many years ago, and for centuries the land was ruled by imperial nobles, some of whom were fair and just, most of whom were decadent and corrupt. Bjorn Olofson was born into this situation. Born to a modest farming family, Bjorn joined the imperial military and served in combat across the empire. He was an average soldier, not particularly strong or smart, but he was tenacious and possessed of the right mix of courage and caution to keep him alive. He fought in many bloody battles,never earning a commission or honor, but accruing deadly experience. He was already a well-seasoned veteran when the empire’s power started to wane and civil war seemed near. When he heard that his homeland had risen in rebellion, throwing off the chains of the nobility, Bjorn deserted the imperial army to return to his homeland. Returning home he found a land free of imperial control, where the people long-suffering under the lash of the nobles sought to try and new way of doing things.

His reception was mixed, on the one hand he was looked down upon and mistrusted for having served in the Imperial Army. On the other, he had skills that they sorely needed, as the people were mostly farmers and peasants, and a smattering of mercenaries and the nobles’ former guards. He was offered a commision in the People’s Army and he accepted. The mercenaries and local guards did not particularly want to associate with him. So, at his suggestion he was tasked with forming his own unit. He went across the icy land and found bandits, thieves, deserters, murderers, all of whom faced the hangman’s rope. His offer to them was simple, join his brigade, submit to his training and command, and after a period of five years they would receive a pardon and a reasonable sum of gold. He explained to him that if they accepted they would be given the most dangerous and difficult missions, as they would be seen as expendable, but he would fight beside them and he had no intention of dying. Trading certain death for the possibility of life was an easy deal to make for most prisoners.

No doubt some of his new recruits had thought to use the opportunity to escape. However, when he led them into the freezing cold of the mountains, far away from any settlement or source of supplies they realized that he was deadly serious. The discipline he imposed was harsh, and the recruits learned he was serious about it after he summarily executed a few of the more serious rulebreakers. They no doubt resented the discipline and the intense training he oversaw, but they also noticed that he was with them every step of the way, and he never gave an order he was unwilling to do himself. When they came down from those mountains months later they had been trained and drilled under the harshest conditions, when battle came they would hold.

It was only after their first battle that his troops truly came to respect and understand the importance of what Bjorn had taught them. They were sent to the frontlines, and given the most dangerous and deadly missions. There were casualties, but their training paid off, and they managed to beat back their enemies at every turn. Gradually they earned a fearsome reputation, and whispers grew among the other soldiers that they had never broken ranks in battle, even when under the sort of pressure that would make any normal soldier break down and flee. As their legend grew, they came to be known less and less as the 1st Penal Battalion and more and more by their nickname, Iron Wolves, becoming veritable heroes to the people for their repeated successes. As the war against the imperial legions ground on, the Wolves soon became the most battle-hardened and decorated unit in the rebellion.

However, Bjorn’s newfound fame did not sit well with everyone. Various factions saw Bjorn as a threat to their own power, he was popular with the people for his military victories. However, as the civil war grew and the empire splintered the threat to the far-south diminished and stripped of fresh victories the people’s enthusiasm curdled. The factions used this moment to strike, they agitated the mob against Bjorn and the Wolves, reminding the people that they had once been bandits and criminals. Eventually, the people’s court found them guilty of all sorts of crimes, and the rest of the army was ordered to capture and if necessary kill them. This came as quite the shock to Bjorn, who had always been more focused on winning the war than on the politics of his homeland. They attacked at night, for they still feared the Wolves ferocity. That would have been the end for Bjorn if not for the bravery of the Wolves. Half their number, including Bjorn’s second in command volunteered to stay behind so that the other half could escape with Bjorn. Bjorn protested, but he was knocked out by his second and sent off. The holding action of the Wolves will go down in legend and song. Outnumbered 20 to 1, they managed to hold for two straight days. When dawn broke on the third day, the Wolves who had stayed behind were all dead, but the army that had attacked had lost nearly a third of their number, and was in such a state of disorganization they were in no condition to pursue the escaped Wolves.

Now wanted fugitives once more, the Wolves fled headlong back into the mountains where they had trained. Tired and low on supplies they fought against the reinforcements sent to stop them, but eventually they were driven into the ice caves. It was here, when all hope seemed lost that Bjorn discovered the Gauntlets of Strength. Deep in the cave system they were hiding in, he had found the ancient tomb of the last of the great barbarian kings. He his tomb had been secreted away from the imperial conquerors all those centuries ago. Realizing immediately what he had found, from the songs he had heard many times when he was growing up, Bjorn put them on immediately. As the Gauntlets’ power flooded into him, he was transformed. His body and muscles growing as the Gauntlet’s strength and fortitude soaked into his very being. When he stood panting after the transformation was complete, he looked more like one of the barbarian kings of old than the physically average soldier he had once been, still he was clearly recognizable as the same man who had put the gauntlets on moments before.

It was then he swore, he would have vengeance on those who had betrayed him and who had taken half of his unit. The factions had feared he might turn on them, use his military might and popularity to become leader. They had been wrong before, but now their betrayal had opened his eyes to the chaos and foolishness of the mob. He would become exactly what they had feared, and their own had would be responsible for him becoming so. He would bring bloody vengeance on those who had betrayed him, and he would bring the strong hand the mob required to be controlled. When he was finished, he would be as the barbarian kings of old in more than just appearance.




Domain:
Gauntlets of Strength[+2]
- Once belonging to the royal line of the Barbarian Kings of old, they are a set of nigh-indestructible gauntlets wrought from thick metal of an intimidating design. Mentioned in many tales and songs still sung to this day, it is said they were forged from the bones of the king of the gods, slain in the final battle of ragnarok. The songs tell of the monstrous strength and fortitude the Gauntlets grant their wearers. The songs also ascribe other powers to them as well. The ballad of King Asmund told of a farmer, who having saved the king's life from an assassin's blade was transformed by the king from a sickly weakling barely able to tend to his crops into a mountain of a man who went onto become one of the greatest warriors in the kingdom. Just as they can give strength to others, the songs tell of their power to sap a man's strength and turn a warrior into a stunted weakling. These marvelous gauntlets were thought lost to time until they were found by Bjorn, in the ice-caves of the far south.

Foible:
Brutal [-2]
- Bjorn was always a harsh man, but the betrayal he has hardened into an outright brutal one. He no longer possesses any compunction against using violence against those who oppose him, and no patience for softer methods in the service of his ends. This hard-edge can have its advantages, but just as much it can be a liability, alienating potential allies and closing opportunities for peace.

Troop:
The Iron Wolves
- Made up of former bandits, murderers, and thieves, they were given the option to avoid the hangman’s noose if they joined up. Under Bjorn’s harsh training and discipline, they were remade into a well disciplined and skillful unit. They have seen more combat than any other unit, being sent on the most dangerous and deadly of missions, and they have never once broken ranks. They suffered many casualties, but those that survived became some of the fiercest and most deadly soldiers in the war. They are fiercely loyal to their commander, not just because he gave them a second chance at life, but because he leads from the front, never giving an order he would be unwilling to undertake himself. He earned their loyalty on the bloody battlefields of the war with the Empire. The Wolves once numbered roughly one thousand men, but by the end of the war only two hundred survived. The two hundred remaining were the most battle hardened and deadly soldiers in the South. When they were betrayed by the people they had fought so long and ferociously for half their number volunteered to stay behind and hold off the army sent to destroy them and capture their leader. That valiant hundred held off an army of two thousand for two days and two nights, and when the day rose on the third day they had all been killed, but they had managed to take five times their number with them. Now, the remaining hundred have fled to the southernmost mountains to hide and plan their next move.

Betrayal: Bjorn’s success in battle made factions of his homeland fear his military prowess and popularity would allow him to become dictator. Whether from patriotism or their own lust for power, they agitated the mob against him, and had troops sent out to destroy him and his soldiers. Half of the Wolves died buying Bjorn and the rest of the Wolves time to escape, and in the process they spurred Bjorn to become exactly what they feared he might be.

Side in the civil war:
Neutral: Bjorn’s homeland in the cold and snowy far-south was an imperial conquest for centuries, but as the empire started to fracture they rebelled. Bjorn joined his people’s battle to remain free from imperial domination, but as the civil war truely began, the empire had more important things to worry about than a rebel province on the empire’s edges, and Bjorn’s people were content to let the two sides of the civil war batter themselves apart against each other rather than getting involved.

2 things to do in the game:
  • Extract bloody and terrible vengeance against those who betrayed him and their associates.
  • Crush all who oppose him and rule the lands with an iron fist.

rakovsky maybe
Nov 4, 2008
Tangan Ombak



Seriburibu is known to its inhabitants as the "Thousand Islands". A vast archipelago lying far to the south, it has always been the home of pirates who harry and rob both each other and those who dwell on the mainland. Seriburibu was for a long time divided between dozens of petty chieftains but real power laid with the roving corsairs who owed no loyalty to any of the many islands. Tangan Ombak was an ambitious young pirate captain who had risen from being a mere galley slave. For a few years he plundered along the coasts and inlets of Seriburibu until a rival captain captured him. Angry at his territory being invaded by this newcomer, the captain had Tangan's arms tied to heavy stones and threw him overboard.

Drowned by his enemies, Tangan watched the light from the surface grow dimmer as he sank. For a few minutes he held his breath stubbornly but Tangan eventually surrendered. Breathing in nothing but water, the distant light of the surface disappeared entirely. An unknowable length of time later Tangan regained consciousness. He could see nothing but inky darkness, though he felt the pressure of being crushed under an intense weight. Then a tiny blue light danced across his vision. More lights joined until they had collected into a brilliantly glowing swarm and a voice spoke from within Tangan's mind. Samudra, the ocean spirit, offered Tangan a choice: Give up his arms and Samudra would grant him both his life and a small portion of its tremendous power. Tangan agreed and the blue lights coalesced around his arms and chest. They simultaneously tore off the former while burrowing into the latter. Tangan's mind went black again, but when he awoke he found himself washed ashore one of the Seriburibu's many islands. His arms were indeed torn off near the elbow - but on his chest was tattooed a strange blue sigil.

Tangan soon found that he was able to command water and move it around with only a thought. He used this to replace his own missing limbs though the replacements lacked feeling or much dexterity. Equipped with this new ability Tangan was quickly able to regain and even surpass his previous maritime empire. The various pirate lords found themselves at the mercy of a captain who had the ocean on his side. The rival who had sent Tangan to his death found his own ship grasped by watery tendrils and literally pulled beneath the waves. On the rare occasions that he did allow an enemy to live, they would always come back missing their arms. Within a few short years all the captains were either crippled, dead, or working for Tangan. The petty chiefs of the land all paid him tribute. His fleet was mighty and his treasury full of plunder, but it also made him the envy of every ambitious pirate captain around.

Tattoo of Samudra [+2] Tangan can control water as easily as if it were a limb of his. He often uses it to replace his own missing arms. These liquid arms are stronger and resistant to harm - a blade will pass right through them. Around the ocean or other large bodies of water Tangan is at his most dangerous, as he can command the water to smother, attack, and otherwise harm his opponents.

Armless [-2] In the absence of a plentiful source of water, Tangan is crippled. He cannot gather mere tiny amounts of water together. Dew from the leaves and humidity from the air will not follow his call. For this reason he prefers to travel by ship and always have the ocean nearby. The water he often uses in place of his missing limbs lacks precise manual dexterity - he cannot thread a needle or turn the pages of a book.

Privateer for the North Seriburibu is located off the southern coast of the mainland, but historically relations with the southern states have been poor. During the civil war, agents from the north employed Tangan as a privateer to attack southern shipping while giving northern ships free passage.

Betrayed by his Lieutenant Tangan's second-in-command, Ridah, had been at his captain's side since the slave mutiny where granted them command of their first vessel. Swayed by the promise of wealth and power by rebellious island chiefs, Ridah lured his normally cautious master deep inland to a dry and desolate rocky plateau where he was ambushed. It took dozens of trained warriors to waste the water from Tangan's limbs. Now vulnerable, he was easily captured and chained to a rock. Only superstitious fear of upsetting Samudra kept him alive. Left to starve for three days, a small rainstorm dumped enough water on the plateau that Tangan was able to catch rodents, birds, and grasp a few tubers to keep himself alive. It took waiting for the monsoon season two months later before he was able to gain enough strength to break his chains. In that time, Tangan found that his empire had been divided between warring captains and chieftains.

Corsairs of the Sampah With his empire lost and without a ship to command, Tangan sought the nearest port. The Sampah was more akin to a piece of garbage than a ship. Her crew was even worse - the basest scum thrown out of most pirate vessels. Tangan took control easily, tearing the previous captain apart between two hand-like waves.

Ambitions Tangan seeks to rebuild his empire from the ground (ocean?) up. He also wants to seek out beings of power, and perhaps tattoo himself with more sigils or give up more of himself in exchange for new abilities.

There is a rumor that for the past few years the ocean around Seriburibu has grown more dangerous. Some who fall in claim they feel strong hands grasp their limbs and try to pull them under. Only Tangan knows that Samudra too got something out of their trade.

rakovsky maybe fucked around with this message at 03:44 on Mar 6, 2015

Panic Attack
Oct 29, 2012

Float like a bulldozer
Trying to catch a butterfly
Seems like a fun time, though it appears you have more applications than slots already. Filled up faster than I was anticipating!

HiKaizer
Feb 2, 2012

Yes!
I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!
Anselm the White Black



It was a simple and tragic story. Anselm was an orphan raised to greatness upon his deeds of valour and purity, fighting against forces of darkness and evil. In time one arose that the Order of the Radiant Ward could not best, and Anselm made the foolish and noble choice to do what had to be done; to unlock seals upon an ancient relic that held a demon bound within it. His actions defeated the demon, the armour stealing its very essence, but in doing so Anselm unwittingly weakened the seals and laid a seed of darkness within his heart. Over time he grew less noble and forgiving, administering justice with less compassion and humility. Those around him were of two groups, those that saw what he did as necessary, a "dark knight " to do those in the order could not, while the others saw his fall for what it was. Even though he had resealed the armour away, it had begun to whisper to him and to tempt him. Then one day the order could no longer bear the weight of what he had done, they exiled him, forbade him to act in their name and cast him out to never return. Anselm was hurt by the loss of his home and family, but others believed that he did necessary deeds, the signs of corruption and darkness were clear to any who could see within the growing conflict.

Anselm acted on his own for a time, but it was when he slew a wizard who had summoned in two outsiders tied to his soul that the Order resolved to remove him. There might have been a way to save the wizard and to exorcise the two outsiders, to save as many innocents as possible they argued, and Anselm had gone too far and acted in their name to protect the realm. They launched an attack and Paladin fought brother and sister in a terrible battle. In the heat of it Anselm's heart blackened for a moment, angered by the arrogance and treachery of the Order that he saw. The cursed armour returned to him, and it drunk on the souls of the fallen Paladaen. Anselm lamented what had been done and resolved to do what others could not, he would use the armour if he must and not at any other moment. And within the armour the Great Demon Sathanun chuckled, for with each soul he drank he grew more powerful and his hold on Anselm grew stronger...

From that day the Order decreed that Anselm was no longer to be known as Anselm the White, for he had a new name now.


[+2] Sathanun's Raiment (Sin) (Item): In an age past and forgotten the forces of dark and light fought across the plains, scorching the ground and spilling blood. Through great sacrifice the dark lords were bound into sanctified artefacts and sealed away, protected by orders of virtuous men and women. In time the once white items were stained black with evil, but great power for good and for evil lies within them. Bound within the armour is the spirit of one of the Greater Evils, Sathanun who governed over wrath over violence. The armour's true power is not in the minor enchantments that afford its wearer improved strength and resistance, but in its ability to influence the actions of another towards darker aspects. Even as Anselm uses it, he fails to see that it affects him in the same way.

[-2] The Ends justify the Means: Anselm sees crime and injustice, and understands that the chaos of war will surely bring forth demons and other cursed beings. He must do what he can to minimise the pain and suffering of the realm, and sometimes that means that innocent men and women lose their lives. The scriptures spoke of terrible sacrifices made in times past, and now sacrifice must be made again if there is to be a land to be saved.The tragedy of this is that Anselm still knows what he does is wrong, but has lost sight of the truth that doing an evil deed in the name of good is still evil.

The Blackguard: Those men and women who followed Anselm into exile took the name Blackguard once they heard he had been stripped of his title by the order, and given his new cursed epithet. They wear grey armour, signifying they stand between the light and the dark, doing what must be done. Few of them are full Paladaen, but some of the brothers and sisters are mages of some small skill. None of them can use the Holy Light any more, a fact that they do not admit to themselves. In their hearts they still imagine themselves warriors of virtue and justice, doing what must be done and what others cannot do.

Betrayed by his Brothers: The attack was swift and unexpected, an attack on Anselm's camp in the dying hours of the day. His followers had welcomed them as brothers to the camp, and they had been cut down for it. In his rage Anselm became a terrible tempest of battle, but he realised the terrible cost of the armour he had summoned when the battle ended. In his mind he told himself that they had broken their oaths and become fallen, that it was a tragedy but he had been in the right and in time his followers accepted this as well. The lone survivor spoke of the white armour that Anselm had worn turning black with sin, and so he was named Anselm the Black.

Sides: The Order was neutral in the conflict but Anselm is not. He currently stands with the South, and has a temporary alliance against the aggression of the north. In truth however he has little loyalty to either side and would likely betray his own word should he feel it be needed. The local lord seeks to use Anselm, while the dark knight seeks to be a watcher to prevent the ambitions of the lord.

What I want, is to see Anselm either fall, to embrace the darkness within him and the armour and become the terrible demon scourge he long fought against. It would be a bitter irony and a fun juxtaposition to the good characters I have played recently. Otherwise I would like to see Anselm redeem himself, and to take up the path of light again. He stands upon a precipice between light and darkness, and those he meets and the situations he faces will shape him forever more.

HiKaizer fucked around with this message at 06:36 on Mar 7, 2015

Redeye Flight
Mar 26, 2010

God, I'm so tired. What the hell did I post last night?
Ehecamini



It was in the final days of the Rain Moon that Tlaloc shed his divinity, and departed this world to walk among the others.

The mourning in Topcala, the City Upon the Great Lake, lasted for a month. Tlaloc had been God of the Rain, and his power would be greatly missed among all of society--from the rice farmers in the flooded fields on the shores of the Great Lake, to the merchants who sailed the rivers in the heavy season, to the priests who relied upon the storms and winds for their augury. Now, the rain did not stop, but stilled--trickling in drizzles and mists, as if waiting for something. The remnants of the Rain-God's raiment were gathered by the priesthood, and brought to the inner chambers of the Emperor's palace, where they were kept while the priests debated and scried to determine the signs of a new God's ascendance, and where he would appear.

Icnoyotl appeared in none of their visions--a bureaucrat and a functionary, he kept the rice harvest running smoothly in the months between rain and dry, residing in the antechambers of the palace. He was a jovial, outgoing man, beloved by many among the staff for his willingness to lend his learning and experience to any trouble that might come their way, given his abundance of freedom when the harvest was not in motion. He was as religious as any, though not more so--but on the final Moon of Mists, just before the harvest was to begin, he awoke late at night. In his mind he had seen a feathered serpent, and it had told him that great import lay in the raiment of the Rain-God.

Speaking in a voice not quite his own and guided as though his eyes were seeing through the world, he left his bedchamber and sought out two of his friends among the palace guard. More religious than he, they immediately could tell he was being led by the gods, and accompanied him to the chamber where the raiments lay. There sat the great storm-drum which struck rain from the clouds, the forked three-tongued whip of lightning which crackled and spit wildly even as it lay, and the headdress of heron's feathers that trailed white cloud where it had been brought. And folded neatly on the dias lay the shimmering yellow cloak of feathers, the Mantle of the Thunderbird.

Icnoyotl picked it up, with reverence, and wrapped it around his shoulders. A great cry was heard throughout the city, and the thunder-drum spoke. The Emperor and his priests awoke in an instant, rushing from one wing of the palace to the other.

Where once had stood a man, bureaucrat and functionary, now a half-bird stood, head like an eagle's, wings folded on his back, feathers of shimmering gold and blue-white--the colors of lightning. The guards who had stood with him, the other functionaries sleeping in the quarters nearby, the servants toiling in the kitchen, even a few priests--anyone who had been in that wing was also changed, forever. Hawks, owls, macaws, ravens--many distinct, but all clearly changed.

They had blasphemed, in the eyes of the Emperor and his priests, by tampering with the gods' tools. As such, all were arrested, held while the sacrifices were made, the omens consulted. It did not take long for a verdict: Death. Sacrifice, for all of them, to appease the gods. But such a verdict did not sit well with all in the City Upon the Great Lake: those who still called Icnoyotl friend made their way to him, and arranged a jailbreak. And so the Thunderbird and his flock left Topcala, on a powerful northern wind.

The arm of the Empire is long, and her wrath will be slow to cool. But Icnoyotl knew that the gods endorsed their cause; the Feathered Serpent does not change men forever for pure jest, as the Raven or the Coyote might. They must have a purpose. They are there for a reason. So he gave them a name, to give them unity and a sense of belonging: Etalpalli, the Winged Ones. And in turn they gave him a new name, Icnoyotl the Friendly no longer; now and forever to be known as Ehecamini, the Wind Rider.

Domain:
Mantle of the Thunderbird +2

The strength of the Rain-God is measured in four parts: the clouds, which gather the rain; the wind, which moves the clouds; the lightning, which lashes the land; and the thunder, which drives down the rain. In the Mantle of the Thunderbird is bestowed the power which is both least and greatest among these: the wind. The Mantle allows Ehecamini to move the wind to his purpose, in one moment sending the life-giving breeze to wash the land and drive the soft rains, in the next driving the hurricane gales to scour the earth and destroy anything which may be foolish enough not to bend in its path. It also, not incidentally, allows him to fly as the fastest wind, and reportedly move unseen--though he hasn't yet tried to do so.

Foible:
Thunderbird's Ire -2

It is no accident that Rain and War have their temples next to each other in Topcala. While War has its own domain and God, the Thunderbird is widely known as a proud and vengeful thing--strictly just, with a ferocious love of greatness and fighting. Icnoyotl had his own fondness for justice and fairness, and Ehecamini is no different--he hates injustice, having been on the wrong end of it all too recently and too fiercely, and is all too willing to bring his wrath down upon anyone who would harm the weak. Or if he sees a chance to get all puffed-up and prideful from the victory.

Troop:
The Etalpalli

Numbering ninety-six not counting Ehecamini, the Etalpalli share his gift of flight, but rely on him for control of the wind. They are not all warriors--about forty are, and some of the best, being former guards of the Emperor. The rest are a disparate lot--palace servants, lower functionaries, priests and scholars, and all the other rabble you can find around any great noble. Though none began as warriors, all are now--by no means necessarily exceptional, but all can hold their own in a fight. What they lack in skill they make up for with their disparate ability--knowledge reaching beyond the battlefield--and the advantage of being able to fight in three dimensions, instead of just two.

Ehecamini considers the group to be as close as children to their father, and this is mostly reciprocated. Some of the group is still very hard set with the complete loss of their old life, and becoming seemingly permanent fugitives from the Empire. However, Ehecamini's devotion to their survival has touched them deeply, and collectively they have taken it upon themselves to guard the young god's back--a cause which was tested most strongly at the Ford of Stonewater, when an advance patrol got a net around the Wind Rider and was prepared to stab out his heart. The entire group--still then mostly thinking of themselves as servants, or writers, or cart-drivers--threw themselves onto the patrol, striking with reckless abandon and overwhelming skill with numbers and slashing talons. Since then, the Etalpalli have developed a strong bond not only with their god, but with each other. Each loss has been devastating--but with each victory, their joy could make you fly without wings.

Etalpalli cannot hide their race at all, as people with the head of a bird and great wings are kind of rare. Which type of bird they are is widely disparate and depends on personality and temperament in their past life--however, there is only one eagle. Pointing out these seeming "breed" differences is considered somewhat distasteful.

Betrayal: The divinity of Ehecamini's cause is obvious. Had the Gods wished him to not wear the Rain-God's Mantle, they would have struck him down where he stood just for touching it. This much he knows. For the priesthood to decide otherwise baffled him at first, but with much thought he's come to only one conclusion--the Priests of Topcala are corrupt, and value their power over the true will of the Gods. They have enormous power in the Empire, and he fears they are leading the whole populace astray. Certainly the number of human sacrifices has been rising of late--and not coincidentally, the sacrifices have often included those who tried to defy the priesthood. "Blasphemers".

To try to kill him would be bad enough. But to threaten all of his people has earned the permanent enmity of the Wind Rider.

Side in the Civil War:
The North. The Topcalans came from the North originally, conquering many in the lands-between to establish their empire. While the propensity for human sacrifice makes them distasteful in the eyes of the Northern kingdoms, they place great weight in many of the same traditions, such as honor and obeisance. Ehecamini has ties in his heart to the North, but the South's land would be better suited to what he and his followers are now, and the decision may be tearing him apart far more than he lets his people see.

What Do?

-Find answers, a purpose, and maybe a home for the Etalpalli. That may be three things. Bird-people need a nice eyrie.
-Expose the fraudulence and corruption in the Empire of Topcala.

Redeye Flight fucked around with this message at 03:18 on Mar 8, 2015

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff
Rauri, Valhawk, and rakovsky maybe, great characters.

Panic attack, feel free to submit a character because I'll be going through and picking the characters that work the best, rather than as they come.

Hikaizer, red eye flight, both look good.

HiKaizer
Feb 2, 2012

Yes!
I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

Zombie #246 posted:

Hikaizer, red eye flight, both look good.

Only good? Any suggestions on improvements or things you are looking for?

Panic Attack
Oct 29, 2012

Float like a bulldozer
Trying to catch a butterfly
Ah, splendid. Just as well I did this instead of, say, sleeping!

Name - Aiden Beirne, The Smiling Berzerker, The Fast Burn, Candlehead


Aiden has reddish, clay coloured skin. His brown hair is shorn on the top and sides, tied into a ponytail at the back. He is of an athletic build, with a body covered in nicks and scars. He wears a pair of black gauntlets, which he cannot remove; even in death, he will be a part of them. His eyes are a dark hazel, and while his face would suit a far sterner expression, he is never seen without a smile; even in the midst of berzerking combat. He wears loose clothing in earthy tones that can be removed with ease, forsaking armour entirely. His namesake would imply a lighter skin tone; and indeed, his ancestors possessed as such, but with his family's nomadic lifestyle they have traveled further and further afield with each generation, diversifying.

+2 Domain(Item): Rage: The Ravenous Flames - Aiden is a pleasant lad, as was his father, and his father before him. Indeed, the Beirne line is nigh famous for their remarkable temperment, always willing to turn the other cheek. Their philosophy is one of understanding: of knowing the weakness of man, the pain of existance, and the terrible things that that pain causes men to do. His father summed it up best; that 'everyone is fighting their own battles, my boy... and many of them are losing'. But it is those who suffer the most that attract the attention of the Beirnes. Aiden, like his father, fights to protect the weakest, the most downtrodden - but this is not accomplished through heroism or honour.

Instead, it is through rage... through anger, and boiling hatred. Through the Ravenous Flames... a pair of simple steel gauntlets, their surface permenantly scorched black with endless layers of compacted soot and ash. They imbue Aiden with no immediately obvious power upon being worn, as they require a catalyst; anger. When Aiden experiences true rage in any of it's forms, they are activated - bathing him in agonizing fire that licks at his flesh without damaging it. His limbs become obscured by pillars of flame, his hair becomes an untamed furnace, and even his eyes are transformed. Aiden is able to control this flame freely, spreading it quite literally like wildfire around him, sparing his allies and wrecking havoc upon his enemies positions. The further his flames are from him, the weaker they get. Additionally, the angrier he gets, the more unstable his flames become; granting him the capacity to create explosions centered upon himself.

The agony he feels maintains his rage; a flame that feeds itself. Many men would be easily consumed by this dark armour, and indeed, it is the fate of the Beirne's to be consumed by it in their darkest hour, where upon the flames become lethal and reduce the wielder to ash, until only the gauntlets remain; a fresh layer of soot caked upon and within them. The angier Aiden gets, the more powerful he becomes... but it is when they burn hottest that the Beirne's must perish. Like each member of the Beirne line before him, Aiden's father was burnt to a crisp, and so the gauntlets fell into his possession. He wore them immediately, the armour binding to his flesh until the twisted black metal was an extension of his own body; able to feel with it as if it were his original skin.

The secret of the Beirne line is their capacity to control their emotions, an ability without which the use of the cursed gauntlets would be impossible. Through mediation, contemplation and, on occasion, simple leisure, they learn to maintain a calm mind, level headed and unfazable. It is through this control that they can simply 'turn on' their negative emotions, keeping them locked away to be unleashed in one burst. Indeed, a fight using the Ravenous Flames could be compared to a form of... release. But this is not a skill easily learned, and Aiden's father was unable to finish his training before his untimely death. And so...

-2 Foible: Insecurity. Like all Beirne men, Aiden appears as a smiling, genteel and pleasant young man, who the casual observer couldn't imagine to be capable of hurting even a fly. That is, assuming they observe him before he invokes the Flames. However, Aiden is still inexperienced in keeping his emotions bottled up, and for a Beirne there is no way of releasing stress easily... as a result, the longer Aiden goes without invoking his rage through the Ravenous Flames, the more likely it is that he will blow up from something as simple as an offhand comment. While he has never outright attacked anyone as a result of this, a sudden explosion of temper - literally - is hardly ideal at the best of times...

Your troop: Mad as Hell - Aiden's troop fights in a manner that mirrors his own, and they all stem from similar origins. A collection of misfits and cowards from the many small communities saved by the Beirne's from banditry and maurauders, all were inspired by the sight of a Beirne in the midst of their transformation destroying their foes. After each victory, the Beirne's would remain for a while to teach those able and willing to learn the way of the berzerker, to protect the ones they love. Inevitably, in each community there were those without anything to fight for... and so, the offer was made for them to fight for the Beirne's, to rally beneath their banner to protect those who can not protect themselves, to channel their helplessness, fear and anger into power on their behalf.

As a result of their training, Mad as Hell are a strange bunch to say the least. Kind and warm, they are remarkably understanding people outside of battle. In battle however, they throw away their concerns and kindnesses, brandishing tar-pitched weapons and flaming arrows to bring wrath down upon their enemies. They know what it is to fear, to dismay; and they seek to spare others the misery of the terrible anger it causes while channeling it themselves. They fight for no nation but for humanity, by discarding their own.

Many of them fought and were recruited by Aiden's father, yet they show the same respect to Aiden that they did to him. Aiden is extremely grateful for this, and he is willing to fight to protect each and every one of them. Their number is small - just past 50. Aiden and indeed everyone within the troop knows everyone else by name.

How were you betrayed? Aiden and his troop still know not who or what decided to do away with them. As usual in their travels, they found a community under constant siege by dark aggressors, who fought tooth and nail in their efforts to raze the town to the ground. They were fought off, and Aiden's troop made rest for the night, accepted into the town by the seemingly grateful inhabitants. It seems that they were betrayed by the very people they came to protect; perhaps they were bribed, coerced, or were never as innocent as they appeared to begin with, but regardless, the gates were opened and the marauders were allowed entry into the town in a sneak attack. But this act brought Aiden to new heights of rage, and in the ensuing fight the town was obliterated, turned to ash and swept away on the wind. No evidence remains of what occured; a misfortune, an ambition for the Flames, or a greater plot?

Which side were you with before the betrayal? Neutral. The Beirne's have never concerned themselves with the disputes, and Aiden is no different. They simply serve to pick up the pieces for the weak and downtrodden caught in the middle. On many an occasion, their foes have been soldiers fighting underneath the flags of north or south, but Aiden has never seen them as representatives of their sides; merely as men.

Name 2 things you’d like to do this game
Aiden must learn to control his emotions, or he is doomed to be consumed by the Flames at some point. With him, it may be sooner than later...
Prevent a catastrophe, even if it means causing one.


May alter this later, it's far too late for me to continue with any degree of sensibility.

Panic Attack fucked around with this message at 01:43 on Mar 17, 2015

Redeye Flight
Mar 26, 2010

God, I'm so tired. What the hell did I post last night?

HiKaizer posted:

Only good? Any suggestions on improvements or things you are looking for?

I kind of feel the same way. Any thoughts?

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff
hikaizer and red eye, both are excellent characters. Sorry I was rush posting at work on break, just gave them a better look and they are both solid and gives a lot to work with

Panic attack, looks great. Expect many fire related puns if you get in.

Zombie #246 fucked around with this message at 06:09 on Mar 6, 2015

Ronwayne
Nov 20, 2007

That warm and fuzzy feeling.
I'll have something up later today.

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Wow this thread blew up whilst i was in bed.

To answer your earlier question I imagined them in various stages of decay and preserved that way through whatever animates them, so some of them are spooky skeletons but others still seem to have most parts intact, if looking worse for wear

TheNabster fucked around with this message at 17:38 on Mar 6, 2015

Skeletome
Feb 4, 2011

Tell them about the tournament!

Puppies are dicks posted:

Monkey'll have all the dick innuendo and fecal-related pranking of other Gods required to crack smiles out of every last one of you. You wait and see. :colbert:

I'll try to draw some humour out of Zaffi being over-the-top mirthless. Like Eeyore, but with a pair of axes.

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

TheNabster posted:

Wow this thread blew up whilst i was in bed.

To answer your earlier question I imagined them in various stages of decay and preserved that way through whatever animates them, so some of them are spooky skeletons but others still seem to have most parts intact, if looking worse for wear

Ah okay cool that'll work

Ronwayne
Nov 20, 2007

That warm and fuzzy feeling.
Chief Conciliator Amerigo Hieronymus


"God was the dream of good government"

After centuries of intermittent warring and nigh-theatrical staged fights between hired mercenary armies, the wealthy maritime city states of Transoceania demonstrated their superior civility to their neighbors by willingness to put ancient blood feuds aside for the purpose of making even more money. A hotbed of republican sentiment (even if that often only meant they preferred their overlords to be New Money rather than inbred.), these micronations had seen the rise of modern knowledge, engineering, and arts, primarily in the fields of understanding, advancing, and glorifying the killing of your fellow man, respectively. A conclave of representatives from each city reached an agreement for the creation of an impartial organization to help mitigate the extremes of petty, armed squabbling. Building up for war is good for business, actually going around burning your customer base to the ground isn't.

Thus was formed the Consilitorium of Transoceania, a gathering of the greatest military and scholarly minds of the Ten Cities. Seeking to end the chaos caused by roving mercenary armies preying on inter-state hostilities and a standardization of trade laws, it rapidly grew into the main source of infrastructure construction, policing, and circuit courts of the land. For a brief time, it looked like the mistakes of the past had been left behind.

Betrayal: As stability and prosperity made tenuous inroads across the land, the people slowly began to conceive of themselves as a nation. However, powerful interests began to bide their time; using the influence of the Concilatorium, Doge Gorganth IV made a bold move, allying with one of the factions and several of the most powerful cities, he intimidating the lesser ones to concede to his authority. The ideals of the Conciliators had been violated, their purpose was a joke. The remnants either gave up and joined the Doge's government in an attempt to mitigate the damage, others resigned, disgusted with what they saw as moral cowardice.

Amerigo Hackberry is one such idealist. The son of a printer and lawyer, he had been educated from early childhood in literary, law, and the inherent superiority of Republican traditions. Accumulating several degrees in Statecraft and Natural Science, he was among the youngest of those accepted into the ranks of the early Consilitorium. Working to maintain a steadfastly neutral position in the upcoming war, he sought to mitigate the damage it would do locally. Now, with his home city under despotic rule and his cherished legal traditions tossed aside in favor of the despotism of one man, Amerigo has headed out into the world, to spread his captive nations' ideals, offering unique services as a mercenary administrator and adjutant. He's from a non-existant Government, and he's here to help.

[The Tactica Transoceania +2] Is a condensed, well indexed collection of legal tomes, tactical manuals, scientific charts as well as all around sage advice for raising and running an organization, militant or civil. Included are blueprints for basic technologies and structures suitable to bringing civilization to the hinterlands. Said to be knowledge gleaned from the gods themselves, it contains such helpful tips as; "Aquaducts to bring in clean water, pg XXXVI, Vol III." "Do not defecate where you eat, pg LXVII, Vol XI." "How I learned to stop worrying and love the Kinetic Boiling Tar Launcher, Vol I, Pg III"

[Tired, so Tired -2] One of the downsides of attempting to help others is all the times you fail and make the situation worse. Some of the lads need basic instruction in very basic things. When you tell them to go help build an orphanage that does not mean go make enough orphans to fill it up. It can be quite a lot to handle, and Amerigo finds his emotional and mental endurance slipping away at times.

The Troops With armor and helmets painted the same Azure color as the Consilitorium's heraldry, the Pax Militant are the remnants of the soldiers, engineers, and traveling scholars Amerigo could convince to leave with him. A highly eclectic bunch, they contain some of the most intense of the Republican Nationalists exiled from their homes, in addition there's more than a few former mercenaries put out of work by the very organization they are now employed by. Education in empathy is an ongoing effort.


Well, closer to:


Goals in Game: I'd definitely like to stabilize the political situation and play peacemaker.

Additionally when this inevitably fails I want to hit people until they behave. (This may end with him scrawling EXTERMINATE THE BRUTES on an obelisk somewhere).

Also I'd like to opt out of Rising style mutation of my PC if at all possible.




*In case it wasn't clear "Republican" here is used in its classical definition of rule by non-noble interests (specifically renaissance era trade republics), not fat and old dudes angry about gay marriage. I know this supposes several things about the relative development of the planet, I can tone it down if need be.

Also, tried searching for a more fantasy version of character image, but its hard to find "Fantasy rockwell"

Ronwayne fucked around with this message at 02:16 on Mar 7, 2015

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff
Ronwayne, looks good. I got a chuckle out of the idea of a rogue engineer brigade. Also, as far as leveling goes, you'll pick your upgrades, barring some sort of like story artifact or something.

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Oh wait I forgot to ask, you'd mentioned that humanity has been living alongside /within sight of various magical shenanigans. How well does that apply towards magical or non-human races? We talking Memmonites or Bigfoot-rare? Or can that be a flexible concept based on location, origin, etc.?

Hypothetically if someone were to for example write in a reference to a magical kingdom of talking monkeys that live behind a crystal waterfall sealed away by ancient magic and guarded by tigers the size of carts. I am asking for a friend.

Pochoclo
Feb 4, 2008

No...
Clapping Larry
You're all going to end up being subprograms in a Terminator's CPU anyway

Platonicsolid
Nov 17, 2008

I'm intrigued, I've never done one of these before. It seems a lot of of the obvious slots are taken - I'm considering some sort of trade consortium/non-empire. Might that work?

Ronwayne
Nov 20, 2007

That warm and fuzzy feeling.

Pochoclo posted:

You're all going to end up being subprograms in a Terminator's CPU anyway

a terminator turned into a social democrat, yes. Its like a reverse I Have no Mouth, we're not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with us.

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Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

Puppies are dicks posted:

Oh wait I forgot to ask, you'd mentioned that humanity has been living alongside /within sight of various magical shenanigans. How well does that apply towards magical or non-human races? We talking Memmonites or Bigfoot-rare? Or can that be a flexible concept based on location, origin, etc.?

Hypothetically if someone were to for example write in a reference to a magical kingdom of talking monkeys that live behind a crystal waterfall sealed away by ancient magic and guarded by tigers the size of carts. I am asking for a friend.

Flexible for the most part, though in my head the idea I had was princess mononoke type of rarity.


Pochoclo posted:

You're all going to end up being subprograms in a Terminator's CPU anyway


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