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 The Smoldering Embers reignite into the Masters' Pyre, and you crawl forth from your hiding place as dawn washes over the world. If you're unlucky enough to be guarding the outskirts of your home through the night, you've managed to endure the onslaught of the shadows with your sense of self still intact. You and all the other thinking folk have a different perception of exactly what day it is, and how many have passed since the world's birth. You're probably not truly certain of your own age, either. Not that it really matters. Time slips through your fingers. A particular, peculiar thought occurs to you for the first time: this isn't how it should be. You turn your head skyward to face the Masters' Pyre, although not directly. Its burning light brings life to the world below, like a great furnace eternally firing the Masters' clay magnum opus. But it's no magnum opus at all. It's ephemeral and dreamlike, half-baked in every sense of the word, as if the Masters weren't malicious but simply forgetful and idiot. That thought scares you. Something must be done, but you haven't a clue what. You go about your days' duties to your people in taciturn manner. It feels as if you're on the edge of a precipice nobody else has ever even glimpsed. Little do you know the seed you stand on is almost ready to sprout. --- The Game From Seed to Sprout to Blossom is a play-by-post Dungeon World game set in a newborn, dreamy world cradled in magic. As young as it is, your home is only just now ready to sprout from the soft soil of images, concepts and ideals into a fully-formed world. The characters you create are inhabitants of this seedling, and they will be the first to stumble upon its sprouting. As such, they will embark on a grand adventure to influence the way it blooms. You'll debate with your friends and fight with your enemies over how best to shape the world to come. The World The seedling you call home is a divided one. In the daytime, the Masters' Pyre warms the world, its burning flame keeping the dark of night at bay. Fire is the heart of all life, although it can represent rage and destruction as much as it represents warmth, energy and spirit. Rage and destruction, though, are preferable to what happens to the thinking folk when the Masters' Pyre burns out, into the Smoldering Embers. During the seedling's equivalent of nighttime, the Smoldering Embers cast a dim orange light across the world, and the shadows of that dim light take on shape and form. These shadows feed off the doubts and fears of any thinking folk they catch. The victims of these assaults may end up shaken to the core in the best case, nigh-comatose in the bad case and entirely erased in the worst--drained so much that they lose the will to be. Cogito ergo sum--in your world, force of will is just as vital to living as a pulse is. The term 'thinking folk' is one used for any of the sentient races of the seedling. The seedling is not scarce in natural resources, but conflict between the various thinking folk still occurs when personalities and philosophies clash. In a world where one's sense of self is a lifeline against the shadows, this happens often. However, actual wars between thinking folk are very rare, especially considering the nightly threat of the shadows that all of them face. In general, the thinking folk aren't far past the tribal stage of societal development, and their cities are young and growing. Their written languages were developed quite recently, and there's always need for brave younglings to explore the lands beyond each place's borders and catalog their discoveries for future generations. The Characters There have been no mention of any particular races so far. That's because you decide who calls the seedling home. Each application must include the following things: 1. A level 2 character sheet and bio. Leave bonds blank for now. Playbooks allowed include any base playbook, any of Gnome7's playbooks, and any of Fenarisk's updated base playbooks. Other playbooks are allowed, but if you're worried about whether or not they'd fit in this setting (like some Inverse World playbooks), ask me first. 2. Your character's race, one of the races that inhabits the world. Don't feel constrained by normal fantasy tropes, but don't shy away from them if they inspire you. Is your race unified or scattered across the world? How do they interact among themselves? How do they interact with other thinking folk? What are their ideals? What drives them? Your race doesn't have to be unified in thought, either. Maybe they're diverse. Consider these things when telling me about your people. 3. A magical art that is part of the world. The seedling is cradled in magic. It's part of the air you breathe and the ground you walk on. Professional wizards, sorcerers, clerics and druids still exist, and their knowledge is deep and grand, but almost all thinking folk can tap into the magical atmosphere of the world for at least some small effect. Again, don't feel constrained by fantasy tropes. Psionics, transmutation, true-naming, light-bending--any of these and more could be part of the world. Do your people put this art to any particular use? What are its drawbacks or side-effects? Mechanically, this will become a custom move that anyone can use in the right circumstances. 4. A place important to your people. This could be their largest settlement, or a stronghold against the shadows, or a place where they revere the Masters' Pyre, or a keep on the edge of their territory, or a focus of magical power, or anything else you can think of. Then answer the following questions about your character: 1. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? 2. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? 3. What is your vision of an ideal world? I will weigh applications based on this criteria: character > magic > race. I'm looking for characters (and applications) that have a strong sense of identity. Larger-than-life characters are not only encouraged but thematic to the setting. An interesting magical art can salvage a weak race, and an inspired character even more so. Above all, I'm looking for characters that you'll have fun playing, and that your party members will have fun bouncing off of. I'll select roughly 5 applications based on how well your characters and their personalities bounce off each other. However, radical beliefs may be entertaining, but I probably won't pick characters that will end up killing each other for those beliefs. You will be working together despite your differences, as with almost all tabletop game parties, so I'll trust applicants to be mature enough not to seek violent inter-party conflict for the sake of it. The IRC for this game is #seedsproutblossom on irc.synirc.net. Direct any questions to me there (I'm usually on past afternoons), or to my email at cth501@hotmail.com. I don't have PMs. I understand this is a lot of information to ask for in an application, so I will pick players on Sunday, June 1st.
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May 19, 2014 09:46
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Posting interest, will probably post a character that might well be a complete and utter monster. I can't seem to find the playbook I was thinking, but the backup one is Megane and Gnome7's mage with the Abyss as his focus. God damned I love the idea of being awful at casting any spell which isn't horrifying 
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May 19, 2014 10:33
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For some reason this is making me think about Dark Souls
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May 19, 2014 11:08
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I want in -but be warned- I be a noob. Any tutorial links I can get at? I've already got a dnd character sheet someone gave me that I could repurpose.
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May 19, 2014 15:04
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^^ This is what Dungeon World is like, http://book.dwgazetteer.com/playing_the_game.html Trying to repurpose a D&D character sheet is maybe not a perfect fit. ~ What is your vision of an ideal world? A garden. A beautiful, thriving, fruiting and varied garden. Some crops might yield food, some might be heartier or more bitter, and some might just make flowers, but the plot is large enough for everything in some proportion. Even consumers have a role - aphids clean up old growth, wasps spread pollen, fruit-eaters spread seeds. If two plants are poison to each other, they can be groomed and separated. Sometimes, when a crop or beast over-reaches, threatens to strangle out the life of another, it must be trimmed back. If - as a last resort - there is no way to reconcile differences, the decision of which should live and which should die ought to be determined impartially, by a third party, based on what is better for the garden as a whole. This is 'justice,' and sometimes it is terrible. The business of enacting it is not something to be celebrated. Mother Death has seeded the garden, and already it is beautiful beyond words. But one can't cast seeds and forget them. The growth has to be watched, monitored, tended. The Embers and the elements threaten to diminish it, if not snuff parts out entirely. Many would disrespect the life that Mother Death has lent to us, or waste others unnecessarily. I am appointed as one of her outstretched hands, to protect, cultivate and tend to the garden. quote:Guardian Rerk, a Paladin+ Your character's race, one of the races that inhabits the world. The hive folk.  We are split into castes that are physically different. Most of us are Workers. Smallish, but hardy. Industrious and diligent, but not very ambitious. When enough work is done, they take great pleasure in simple luxuries. Very friends-and-family oriented. Some would call them cowardly or meek, I know that they are lovers and artists born, not fighters. Our few Warriors are larger, mightier, thicker-cased, more selfish and solitary, with the ego and ambition of ten workers. They are group leaders both by nature and in practice, and act as patrons of small family-like units. I am a 'Princess' by birth, similar to a Warrior in stature but milder in temperament, privileged to lay eggs and manage a fief, though I have forsaken that path to serve Mother Death as her Paladin. Above my caste are the Queens - only a handful are alive, they are titans in stature and in magick, and only they can produce more female offspring. My people push back the shadows with trust and love for each other. A worker caught out alone on embertime is likely to be lost, but groups, almost never. Individual workers can be... shy about major disagreements, especially if they fear they might be the only one to feel a certain way. New ideas are discussed openly, but conflicting ones are often presented timidly, even apologetically. Showing ego, or talking about oneself a lot, is thought to be rude. We are not as mighty, or as fast, or as magickally inclined as other races, and less prone to displaying fits of passion, but our true strength is in togetherness. The hive folk, cooperating, are far more than the sum of their parts. A magical art that is part of the world. Transmigration of one's soul. We *are* our souls. They merge with our bodies, both conforming to fit the other, but they were not always one, and they are separable. We are virtually powerless without bodies to live in and act through - even magic is almost impossible without the life-force of a body to fuel it - but too many others make the mistake of forgetting their true, essential selves. By being mindful of this duality, we can feel outside of ourselves, and share an empathy with other souls nearby. Usually this is just a sharing of simple emotions. With great practice, one can share more complex thoughts, like words. With tighter bonds between individuals, lovers or brothers, this can reach across mountains. My people put this art to a particular use by reincarnation. Our eggs are dormant when lain, and only quicken to hatch when a soul decides to inhabit them. We welcome all, but when one of the hive folk decides to be reborn, a new body is often similar enough that he can bring much of his past life's wisdom into the next. If a mother gets the chance to devour the flesh of a discarded body and re-birth it, the migrant soul's bond will be far stronger, its vessel already molded to fit. When one falls to the ember-shadows, their soul is gone. A place important to your people. The Hive City of Kzak. An underground fortress, a sprawling city-state of tunnels, and vibrant fields on the surface, surrounded by earthen walls and crossed with canals. The adjoining mine tunnels have gone deeper into the soil than perhaps anyone else in the world, and it was found to be rich with iron. From a distance, it sometimes looks as if the ground is on fire, from all the crucibles' smoke - I know of no other place in the world whose metal works can equal those of Kzak's Hammerguys. The First Queen lives here, (literally the first of our kind, direct offspring of Mother Death), along with thousands of her children. There are other hives ruled by her sister-daughters, and other fiefs managed by their Princesses, but none so great as Kzak. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? Mother Death is one of the Masters. The Pyre is the source of all life and feeling and warmth; it's the boiling godlike over-soul, and all souls are sparks that sprung from it. It is too hot and too great for life. Just as fire burns our bodies, its divine-heat would scour away our memories and spirits if we drew too close. It nourishes, but only at a distance - these are not opposed elements, just the same thing in different magnitude. As with all things, balance is important. One of the great tragedies of Mother Death is that she can only love us from afar. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? Every light: a shadow. Every action: a reaction. The act of creation implies the possibility of destruction. Simply put, they are the opposition to life. As a tree struggles against gravity to grow upward, we must stay strong, stay together, and remember who we are, to thrive in spite of the shadows. ~ Ahem. Usually prefer to not sound so formal, but there's no other way to talk about heavy stuff like that. May be chosen by Mother Death, but still a mortal - when we're not engaged in Crusader business, please redirect any reverence towards the great one in the sky. Honestly? Very uncomfortable with the whole thing. Mother-of-Life-and-Death can be... intimidating. Terrifying visions of doom, impossible tasks. Fight off these shadows - push this boulder up that hill, forever. If I succeed? Good mortal, pat on the head, next quest. If I fail? Ultimate let-down, get remembered as tragic gently caress-up forever, or scoured away by shadows. If I give up? Far, far worse, shame beyond measure. Great expectations are upon me. Was chosen, did not choose. Hard to maintain old friendships. 'Hey, Tracker Rizn, how's the family?' 'Oh they're fine, little Takt just went through his first molt. Found nice chunk of ore other day - Hammerguy Ztatch said he would help forge into new shovel. We're going to try and expand the well. Hey, are you coming to harvest festival next week?' 'No, sorry - have to slaughter tribe of rampaging gnolls. Divine edict. Tell Takt I said hi.' And so on. You miss all the big events, the milestones, and the little day-to-day meetings. Am nearly a stranger in my home. Respected, not really known. Don't mean to complain over-much about the burden. Also a great privilege. Doing good in the world, needs to get done - if not me, someone else would have to do it. Guess it might as well be me. Feel... a little phony. Like, I'm not the bad-rear end warrior-princess of the death-god, I've just gotten really good at faking it. I feel ridiculous, extremely pretentious, whenever invoking the name of Mother Death to tell people to abide by my will. It works, though. I don't feel like I'm worthy, but evidently She does, and it is an incredible amount of pressure to live with all the time. But, as said, good at faking it. Don't let the cracks show: maintain facade of being a fearless, courageous bastion of righteousness. I know there's a kernel of truth to it - I do sincerely try, and that's been enough to beat the shadows back. StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 20:41 on May 23, 2014 |
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May 19, 2014 15:13
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Posting definite interest. Probably going for a character who's ideal is chaos and anarchy, like a sort of conceptual anarcho-punk, but we'll see.
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May 19, 2014 15:37
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Posting interest! Thinking of a Barbarian for the moment for Class, and will give a thought to the rest!
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May 19, 2014 18:09
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Also posting interest! Now I need to decide if I want Elementalist or Summoner.
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May 19, 2014 19:32
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Would Sky Dancer or Golem be acceptable? I'm interested and willing to look at other options as well.
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May 19, 2014 19:34
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Mark me interested!
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May 19, 2014 19:35
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Tollymain posted:For some reason this is making me think about Dark Souls It should! For all the wonderment and glory of a world about to be truly born in the daytime, nighttime still consists of trying to defend what little your people have accomplished from living shadows. It's a world bifurcated. Sithsaber posted:I want in -but be warned- I be a noob. Newbies are fine. However, D&D isn't terribly similar to Dungeon World. Read the rulebook at the link StringOfLetters posted. EnjoiThePureTrip posted:Posting definite interest. Probably going for a character who's ideal is chaos and anarchy, like a sort of conceptual anarcho-punk, but we'll see. On that note, your character has to be of your race, but that doesn't mean they have to agree with the way they do things. Maybe they're even an outcast. Who knows! occamsnailfile posted:Would Sky Dancer or Golem be acceptable? I'm interested and willing to look at other options as well. I actually don't own any of the Inverse World playbooks! My reason for mentioning Inverse World specifically is because they're playbooks immersed in a setting of steampunk technology, which doesn't exist here. Nothing about the summaries for Sky Dancer or Golem makes me think they rely on that setting, though. If those playbooks can be fluffed to make sense without the Inverse World setting, then by all means, go ahead and use them. I hope that answers your question.  If it doesn't, talk to me on IRC.
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May 19, 2014 19:46
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 "Don't worship the light, don't worship the flame, worship the fuel who burns to keep us warm and safe." Evetta the wanderer has seen what lies beneath the Master's pyre, and preaches to spread its wisdom, and warn the ignorant and blasphemous. Like her god, she scavenges refuse for her fuel, making it palatable and safe with skill and ritual. Then whenever the bounty of the day exceeds her needs, she burns the surplus, so that Lahyf can keep on living. Riches, fame, power: they don't concern her, she treats everyone as she has been treated. As a mysterious stranger. If they have much to teach her, or much still to learn, she lets them grow. If they have neither, she challenges them to prove her wrong, then cuts them down for her god to consume. Race: Fonsecan Human weavers who live in a hegemonic empire that covers the steep hills between two seas. Geniuses with the mechanics of tension, they have become masters of fabric. Their foot-thick cable bridges are flexible and indestructible, and their 500+ threadcount layered robes are arrow proof. They exiled Evetta one night for heretical insult of dead rulers, whose corpses they mummify and continue to worship as if they were immortal. The wanderer said to one of their divine interpreters that ash is not fuel, and not worthy of worship. How ironic, the masters of thread have strung themselves to stones dressed in socks. What happens when the sea rises? "I told them they should stop holding on so tightly to the past, to let their ideals be unshackled from their idols. They told me to find a future somewhere else, before they offered mine up to the emperors." Magical art: Tribute Hold anything still and devote it to something or someone you believe in, and the offering will vanish. The more the devoted values the offering, the more it will bolster its benefactor. Evetta's mother told her a tale of two young lovers who each would die for the other, both were separated in the darkness and prayed so hard for the other that they sacrificed themselves. Both disappeared, but only from the memory of the other. No longer afraid for someone they had no way of helping, they saved themselves from the shadows, returning home in the morning. The people of their town believed they had each lost something precious, but they hadn't lost, they'd learned. "Stop saying who and what you'll die for, and go find things and people to live for. Start with yourself." The Fonsecans sacrifice material 'valuables' and prisoners--thinking beings--to their rulers, a perverted practice. It's inefficiency disgusts Evetta, because they don't care about their offerings, so they try to make up for that in volume. But even if they got that right, they are sacrificing to dead puppets. To spent ash instead of live coal. Even the living rulers are just pillars of smoke, which unlike pillars of stone can support nothing. These byproducts of civilization care only for reaching higher into the sky than their neighbors, all of whom stretch above the clouds now, where no one else can see. Holy Places: Ziggurats of the so-called Immortals Man-made hills of worked stone where there used to be flat land, inside which the regalia wearing preserved remains of dead rulers "debate" among themselves and "speak" their decisions and reasoning to their divine interpreters, one per ruler. No one else is allowed inside, but everyone sees them again when they are dolled up in regalia and paraded around atop litters on holy days. It's such a sight that living rulers, always fighting for parity with their dead ancestors, now refuse to be seen walking anywhere on their own feet, and allow only the tallest and strongest to heft their litters, which seem to grow every year. "They don't want to see eye to eye with anyone. They want to look down on everyone. But to them, no one exists unless they too are above the clouds, so when their fuel smolders in the rain, they do not know why." What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames, and the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? The pyre is our tyrant, dictating the rhythms of every life. I stoke its flames even--especially--when it is too dim to protect me. Why? In my dreams, there it is: something dark and tempered and alive is the fuel of the fire, and suffering every day. Right before it dies, covered in spent ash, it keeps one hand aglow by breathing on the embers, while the other casts shadow puppets in the dim light. The puppets show who should live and who should be fuel for that life. Some things are best off burning as Tribute, no shame in it. On the contrary, everyone goes out atop a peak, before their life loses its value. This means that Lahyf is never the same. It is a being constantly racing its ability to grow with its consumers ability to eat. I am similar but different: I suffer at night, consuming new untouchable food and brewing my intoxicating potions, and hunt during the day, when only the fattest cowards hide. I offer them as Tributes to aid Lahyf's regrowth, my hard won prizes and my tutors after they've taught me their final lesson. I am the dots in the yin yang. Many have asked why I am complicit in a cycle of violence and suffering. Say I pray to take its pain away, what if it learns to shrink from pain? It could decide that death is preferable to a life of endless suffering. Then all would follow it, consumed by an infinite darkness. Puts the little nighttime shadow puppets in perspective, doesn't it? Just as they and their waking nightmares put the trials of the day in perspective. I do not thank this entity. I do not love it because it suffers for me, or anyone, because that won't keep me alive or make me burn brighter when my time comes. In my dreams, I have seen that it does not know the outside world even exists, but it does its job every day nonetheless. Who are we to judge it? I'd rather learn from its example. So I shadow it, day and night, suffering and gathering. What is your vision of an ideal world? My faith is such that the ideal world and the one I live in are one and the same. A world of beautiful and evolving complexity that demands unending adaptation. Hidden rules waiting to be revealed. Laws constantly being amended behind closed doors. So whenever I would settle into a rut, I take off for new lands with new laws. Whenever the world offers me a surplus to weigh me down, I stoke the fire of Lahyf with it before it makes me rot. Whenever something tries to take my life, I stake it. We play the game and see who really understands the rules. When I win, I thank my teacher for their gift by offering them as Tribute, and the day burns brighter for it. quote:Evetta slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 21:42 on May 20, 2014 |
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May 19, 2014 20:18
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Posting to note definite interest, not sure when I'll have a full character up.
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May 19, 2014 23:03
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Okay, I found the playbook I was looking for, it's the Metamorph. Am I alright to use that? Honestly I would be happier with either. The Lizardman would bring in a neater race and lore, but the Metamorph would be so much fun to play. On second thoughts, can't find a good playbook for this. I do however call dibs on writing one for it. 
JohnOfOrdo3 fucked around with this message at 23:35 on May 19, 2014 |
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May 19, 2014 23:20
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Judging from its summary, Metamorph looks fine to me! Prioritize a character you'd have fun roleplaying.
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May 20, 2014 00:07
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Lophiid, The Cultist Lophiid is a Gulper, a creature from the deepest parts of the ocean. While they are infrequently seen at the surface and on land, they have become more common of late as the Gulpers have sent their scholars to learn more of the Shadows. Lophiid came to the surface as one of these scholars, but has stayed at the surface far longer than most; he has come to the realization, as many of the Gulper scholars have done, that the waxing and waning of the Masters' Pyre is a clumsy and damaging manipulation of boundaries in the world, and that the Shadows which plague the world are exploiting the coarseness of the design of the Pyre to invade this world. To Lophiid, the solution is clear: the Pyre must be extinguished. Somewhat to Lophiid's surprise, he has found several among the surface dwellers who have proven receptive to Lophiid's message. 1. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? The Masters' Pyre is a design wrought by a child; there is no elegance to be found in its construction. The flames themselves are dangerous and wasteful -- every time the flames ignite and extinguish themselves, they create powerful and ragged boundaries in the world. 2. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? The Smoldering Embers represent the weakness of the Masters' design; if only they would go out completely! The shadows are dangers not considered by the Masters in their hasty design, and they threaten even the deepest places of the world. 3. What is your vision of an ideal world? Land consumed by sea, an eternal night sky. RACE The Gulpers, as they are called by the landwalking races, lurk in the deepest parts of the ocean, far from the abomination that is the Masters' Pyre. In the inky blackness of the deep sea, light from the Pyre barely reaches, and the only bright light comes from ghostly green lanterns that extend from the bodies of the Gulpers. The Gulpers claim to be very old, older than the Masters that lit the Pyre, but they have no written history; Gulpers prefer to communicate with one another using codified flashes of bioluminescence reflected off finely structured scales, and with these tools they craft the stories of their generations. As the flames of the Pyre have grown, however, the truly dark places have begun to shrink, and the Gulpers have recently come under attack from strange Shadows, huge and unknowable; once found only at the surface of the ocean, the Shadows have begun to venture down into the depths, impinging upon the hunting grounds of the Gulpers. MAGIC The boundary places of the world, where light meets dark, where land meets sea, where chasms cut the earth, these boundaries are weakly formed, and there is great power hiding in these gaps in the world. These are the gaps where the Shadows come from, and so those that attempt to manipulate the power within the gaps run great risks in their art, but to grasp that power is to harness the forces of worldshaping itself. A practitioner of the Boundary Magic may draw power from boundaries to call forth waves from the ocean, or cut rivers through the land, or bring lava up through the surface of the earth. The greater the manipulation, however, the greater the risk that a Shadow will notice the weakened boundary and travel through into the world. A PLACE IMPORTANT TO YOUR PEOPLE The Gulpers gather by hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the ocean -- places where the boundary magics may be practiced -- and while there are many hydrothermal vents, the most important to the Gulpers is the Bubbling Chasm, where the largest population of Gulpers may be found. This is a deep undersea abyss lined with smoking chimneys, and the Gulpers have used the great power of the conflict between sea and magma to construct their greatest city, consisting of great smoking spires far beneath the sea, festooned with glowing green bioluminescent light. pre:Bulbous, pale eyes, slimy green/black skin, kelpy robes, fishy body. Str 8 -1 Dex 12 0 Con 9 0 Int 13 +1 Wis 17 +2 Cha 15 +1 HP: 13/13 Armor: 1 Damage: d4 Alignment: Evil Ritually sacrifice a non-believer Race: Gulper Your cult exists to draw upon the life force of the landcrawlers. When a Chosen One dies, you heal 1d4+1 damage. Bonds: TBD Your Cult: Drowners You followers know you as Lantern of the Deep. Your Chosen Ones are known as The Drowned. Other followers are known as The Fishing Folk. Before joining, your cultists were Dry. Now they are Wet. Your cult worships The Deep. THE CHOSEN ONES You begin the game with 3-cult. Each 1-cult you hold represents a Chosen One, a fanatical believer who will do anything you ask. When you give a command to a Chosen One, they will follow it without question - you take the 10+ result on Loyalty checks without rolling. When you mark 1-ration, your Chosen Ones are also fed. Your cult may have any number of followers at a time, but you only have as many Chosen Ones as you hold cult. When one of your Chosen Ones dies, you lose 1-cult. When a move tells you to sacrifice 1-cult, one of your Chosen Ones leaves you - either dead or feeling lost and betrayed, the GM will tell you which. Lost followers are easily replaced. When you spend some downtime in a populated area, set your cult at 3. You qualify for the Outstanding Warrants move in any area you have used this move in. Each of your Chosen Ones has a single Hireling skill at +1. Choose each Chosen Ones' skill when you gain that Chosen One. DARK RITUAL When you draw on a place of power to create a magical effect, tell the GM what you’re trying to achieve. Ritual effects are always possible, but the GM will give you one to four of the following conditions:
Profane Accessory fucked around with this message at 18:28 on May 23, 2014 |
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May 20, 2014 01:54
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Kind of want to app something like The Conquering King for reference that is this guy 
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May 20, 2014 02:51
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Faeries, The Horde Away from the sight of men, in the deep forest and among the enchanted glade, they dance and play. Glittering, fluttering, dancing upon the air, and swimming among the dewdrops. So pretty, so beautiful, so strange. Faeries are wonderful. They provoke wonder. Faeries are marvellous. They cause marvels. Faeries are fantastic. They create fantasies. Faeries are glamorous. They project glamour. Faeries are enchanting. They weave enchantment. Faeries are terrific. They beget terror. None really knows how old the world is, how long the Pyre has burned and gone to Ember. An old saying once passed, telling of the Faeries. Yet in a young world of unknown age, can any saying, can any story, be old? Yet those who knew of Faeries have largely forgotten the bad, left only with the wonder. What people remember is their beauty, their promises, their grace, and their fun loving nature. The Faeries are indeed beautiful, though their beauty is perhaps too sharp, too strange, too perfect, that they go out the other side and become a little disconcerting. And well they are a bit airheaded and flighty, and as such seem to have trouble really focusing their beauty towards useful endeavors. The Faeries are indeed capable of making many promises, and by some law that binds them they should keep their promises. Yet many hear what they wish, and do not remember the Faeries tendency to use slippery words when promising, nor do they remember all the tales of how what one was promised came all too true. The Faeries are indeed graceful. Putting many other living things to shame. But does anyone remember how that grace was used to hunt prey? How it was used to mislead others? The Faeries are indeed well known for being fun loving little rascals, with a great love of dance, and perhaps a touch of mischievousness. And well those things are true, though if an uninvited guest enters their mushroom circle against their wishes that individual will find out just how much they love to dance. And of course the common knowledge has completely lost the depths of just how fun loving they are, or just what is is they find to be fun. And a touch of mischievousness may be a bit misleading, for they can be quite the prankster, though their pranks are not always so harmless. Time flows, and seemingly differently for every one. That was, in a way, all very long ago. And in another way not long ago at all. Still many have nearly forgotten that Faeries even existed. Until this new flowing horde of Faeries arrived. They certainly seem to fit all the old stories of wonder and enchantment. And well no one remembers all the bad stories, and so far they seem to be rather kind of helpful, if a bit mischievous and flighty. Still some may be a bit disconcerted to see them work in concert, but they have shown no real bloodthirstiness, not that anyone seems to remember those old stories to suspect it. The Master's Pyre lit once more and this swarm of Faeries looked upon it, and were heartened after a deep dark Smoldering Ember of dancing with the Shadows. They looked upon the Pyre, and felt strange. They became restless, and leaving their glade they went out into the world. They had a strange desire to spread their kind far and wide. But whatever bloodthirstiness that may have driven the mirth of the Faeries the last time they left it seems to be dormant in this group. They will defend themselves, and they may delight in some gruesome things, but for the most part they do not seem to be seeking to spread chaos and despair. Back in the Enchanted Glade this band of Faeries had grown powerful, taking larger and larger control of the communal mind. They were having an influence on the faeries behavior and actions. Yet they looked up and felt odd, discontent, as if the world was not right. And so they left. This will likely have some influence on the communal mind of the faeries that remained, yet their control is still strong and their influence will fade only slowly. This band has gone out into the world. They, and for the moment the remaining band of faeries within the Enchanted Glade, are kind to those they like, mischievous to those they don't know, and utterly vicious to those that threaten or annoy them. They are curious about what has become of the world, and have a strong desire to spread their kind as far and as wide as possible. They are curious and inquisitive in general, friendly as they see fit, and unlike many faeries in the past willing to work with other races. Their behavior often makes others think of children, at least until things get serious. Though the Faeries never seem to get serious, even when they eviscerate an enemy, it is all a play to them. Though if they did get serious, what would it be like? pre:Name: The Faeries Look: Iridescent Eyes, Wild Hair, Rotten Clothing, Scrawny Body. LV: 2 EXP: 0 Str 9 +0 Dex 13 +1 Con 16 +2 Int 12 +0 Wis 8 -1 Cha 16 +2 HP: 36/36 Armor: 0 Damage: d6 Drive: Expand Secure a new home for your species to inhabit Race/Background: Faeries (Insect) Faeries are tiny, insect winged fey creatures. With a rather human-like form, though hauntingly beautiful and more than passing strange. (You can have one more advantage under Nature’s Gifts) Bonds: TBD DISPERSED You may not use most equipment, including weapons and armor. Attacks intended for a single target deal just one damage to you. Intelligent enemies may notice this advantage and adjust their tactics. OVERCOME (CON) When you use sheer numbers to overcome an obstacle, roll +CON. *On a 10+, you overwhelm the obstacle with ease. *On a 7-9, choose 1:
A beautiful yet savage race of tiny flying beings. Intelligent, yet flighty and perhaps not all that wise. Gentle and graceful, yet savage, vicious, ruthless. Faeries reproduce through some unknown magical means. It does not seem to have anything to do with the usual methods of reproduction, nor do they seem to bud like some lower forms of life. Some believe that Faeries abduct others of another race and through some magical ritual the abducted are transformed into new faeries. Perhaps some larger queen faerie abducting children and transforming them into faeries that laugh and play, and imitate the ruthless adults of a harsh world. In truth the method of Faerie reproduction is unknown to all but faeries, yet it seems that they can consume something, and then when sated there will all of a sudden be more faeries. Just one moment they were not there, the next they are. Even witnessing the event leaves the witness baffled as to how it works. Many believe that individual faeries have an individuality, their own personality, their own lives. And it may even seem that way at times. Yet the faeries in fact are more like insects, acting almost like a hive mind. This is because there is a communal mind among a flock of faeries. Perhaps in normal situations the faeries would have their own personalities, but with the communal mind the minds of each individual mixes and merges, becoming a gestalt mind and washing away any individual personality they may have. Individually each faerie is weak, fairly dexterous, fragile and easily overcome. But together they are a force to be reckoned with. Together they are as strong as a man, and can cover and overwhelm a far larger individual. Together they are not all that dexterous, as cloud of bodies can only get out of the way so much without getting in each others' ways. Together they are a seemingly unstoppable force as most attacks can take out at most a few faeries at a time. Faeries are well known for dancing atop flowers, dancing through the breeze, and swimming among the dewdrops. Beautiful and entrancing. Yet they are not all about beauty. They are vicious, and cruel at times. And of course if you get a close look their beauty is quite strange. Long ears, long insect like antennae, sharp teeth, multi-jointed fingers, legs that do not bend the right way for most bipedal creatures, and two long and large clawed toes. And while the faeries do frolic among the flowers, they make their homes deep in the bowels of rotten trees, under large toadstools, and in the loose, earthy, and moldy mulch deep in dark forests. A magical art that is part of the world. There is a magic of lights and sounds. A magic that enters the mind through the eyes and ears, blinking lights and soft singing. This music, a favorite among many faerie bands, works upon the mind of the target. This magic lulls the mind, lulls the thinking individual, making them sluggish and slow to respond. And in time this music will put a person to sleep. This music quickly grows stronger as more practitioners join in the dance, more flashing lights that alternate and create complex patterns, more voices raised in gentle music, interweaving and creating a complex song that enters the mind. A place important to your people. The Enchanted Glade deep within the Gnarled Wood of Thergood is, or at least was, the last bastion of the Faeries. This is where they retreated after their last escapade, where they danced and played as their wickedness faded from memory, leaving only the beauty and wonder of their kind in mind. While not entirely protected from the shadows during the Smoldering Embers it is probably one of the most protected of places. Though if this is why the Faeries settled there, or if it is because of the Faeries presence is unknown. Many Faeries remained, and the Faeries could of course replenish their numbers if they ever returned here for some reason. But with the Faeries now going out into the world there will soon be more bastions of Faeries, fluttering and dancing about. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? The Master's Pyre is both beautiful and ugly. Harsh and bright it hurts the eyes, and washes out the world. Yet it keeps the shadows at bay, and its light can reflect off flowers and Faeries and set their beauty ablaze. Without the Master's Pyre the world would be ugly, yet the Pyre itself is so unpleasant to look at. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? A twilight time, of mischievousness and revelry. Yet a time of danger and conflict. A harsh orange light, the sky loses its beauty, and many things are tinged in ugliness. Yet those of a certain mind can certainly have some fun as the shadows stretch. What is your vision of an ideal world? A world awash in Faeries. A world with plenty to delight and entertain said Faeries. A world of mirth, of beauty, of revelry, an of bloodshed. Oops you didn't hear that last one. Ryuujin fucked around with this message at 20:44 on May 20, 2014 |
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May 20, 2014 06:46
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I scrapped my previous ideas and made a Drider instead. God I love me some Drider! Still a work in progress. Gotta write out some background stuff and make a few last picks. DUST - (Drider playbook) A tall slender man shrouded in light mage like robes, Dust is eternally looking for a new place to discover, a new place to explore. Coming from a society in which the ultimate sin is to leave, Dust finds his new found freedom exhilarating. He delights in picking up souvenirs, the harder to obtain the better. Which when you can walk on walls, produce near infinite amount of webbing and can leap and rocket through the air like a bird with grappling hooks makes finding a challenge well... quite a challenge in and of itself. Using the techniques taught to him while still a kithling, Dust is capable of incredible feats of acrobatics. Flying through the air using his web like a grappling hook. Striking unseen, ending foes lives quickly and efficiently with the skills created for bringing down much larger foes. He places little value on treasure and gold, instead focusing on momentous with meaning. That is not to say he has no appreciation of material goods. After all even the Weavers have to eat. But he finds that he would rather add to his collection than seek vast fortunes. Dust is driven by his wanderlust and constantly seeks the next possibility to explore. But even with so strong a wanderlust, like any spider Dust is fully capable of staying in one place for extreme lengths of time and is ready and able to strike at a moments notice. Dust is friendly enough, if a little detached. The Weavers were never really a species known for their small talk. Some aspect of their arachnid heritage removed such notions from their heads. As such Dust tends to be direct in his statements and let's the subtly of his actions stand in for what his words lack. Your Race - The Weaver Kin  From the distant mountains and forests of the world came the weaving kin. They who found kinship with the spiders and gave of themselves to their arachnid brothers. Who in tern gave of themselves to the Weavers. The result is a strange breed of man. Human in appearance, two legs but revered at the knees, two arms primary arms and a number of secondary ones attached to the back. Their bodies are slender, almost as though they would snap in the breeze, their skin is hard and chittinious in places. But they are strong, capable of incredible feats of agility that seem to defy their appearance. A trait which does them well. For it is their solum duty to weave the webs which bind the forest's and the mountains to the earth. To stop the wandering wood and restless rock from trampling over the new world and crushing it to dust. Their settlements can be found anywhere there are forests and mountains. Residing in great caverns and tunnels beneath the earth to better reach the roots. Their cities are referred to as Orbs. Though they lack individual names, the Weavers are not given to sentiment. A typical Orb can cover and entire forest or mountain range, but the living sections are far smaller, generally ranging from a small town in size to a medium size city. Their populations range from 10,000 to 50,000 active Weavers. With a reserve of 5,000-10,000 Weavers dedicated to battling their cultural foe. They the multi teared, and often have towers and platforms woven from webbing. Huge networks of warning webs stretch back into a central chamber where Weavers monitor their charges. Any attempts to break free are met with swift reprisal and their movements are stifled once more. Even so there are some stones and some trees which decide to take a more rebellious route. The Weavers are forever fighting mighty Colossi. Primordial and elemental creatures which are born to escape from the webs which hold their fathers and mothers captive. These mighty creatures are hunted and fought by the Weavers elite. Rarely one will escape to unleash his rage upon the wider world, but these are of little concern to the Weavers. They have their task and the world outside is none of their concern. It is rare to see a Weaver outside of their tunnels and caverns. It is rarer still to see a Weaver on it's own. Unlike their arachnid kin they are a comunial species. One Weaver's webbing is not enough to hold down a single tree, let alone a mountain. Weavers are forbidden from leaving their homes, and those that do are seen as strange and aimless creatures akin to the very things the Weavers seek to bind. These individuals, these anomalies, are often sent to view other Weaver Orbs, gather information as to how their cousins are doing and report back. Aside from the Mountain and the forests the Weaver kin battle the shadows. They remain safe from them for the most part, hidden from the embers in their caverns and tunnels. But even so the shadows find their way inside. Between the Colossi and the shadows life can be short and brutal for the Weavers. As such their reproduction process is short, and a new generation can go from birth to full growth in 5 months. pre:Name: Dust Look: Sharp eyes, Hooded Head, Mage's Robes, Lithe Body LV: 2 EXP: 0 STR: 13(+1) DEX: 16 (+2) CON: 15 (+1) INT: 13 (+1) WIS: 9 (+0) CHA: 8 (-1) Damage: D8 Armour: 0 HP: 21 Alignment: Chaotic - Go where you aren't aloud and bring back a trophy to prove it. Half Spider: Spinning Spider - You can create an infinite amount of webbing, which can be used to build bridges, bind helpless creatures, or any other use you can conceive of for flexible, sticky, incredibly durable rope. Moves: WALL WALKING You can climb along solid walls and ceilings as quickly as you can walk or run, regardless of their texture of composition, as long as it can support your weight. You may carry someone with you while you are Wall Walking, but you cannot use your hands while you have a passenger. DEATH FROM ABOVE (DEX) When you droop down on an enemy from above, roll +DEX, on a 10+, choose three. One a 7-9 choose two; Deal you damage with a hand weapon Kidnap them - you retreat to somewhere nearby, taking them with you Your target doesn't notice you in time to make a move against you No one else notices you dropping in, and your target doesn't make a sound NO ONE LOOKS UP When you cling to a ceiling without taking, moving or attacking, NPCs will never notice you, if you haven't been spotted already. if the ceiling is high enough that you're above their natural line of sight, they won't notice you even if you move. You can always ask the GM if you are above their line of sight before moving, and the GM will answer truthfully. BLACK MAGIC (INT) When you weave a spell to inflict pain choose two tags from the list and roll +INT. If you do not pick any Range tags, the Range defaults to Hand. On a hit, deal 1d8 damage. On a 7-9, also choose one You draw unwanted attention or put someone in a spot The GM removes a non-range tag of their choice, and you deal -1 damage The casting saps your energy. You take -1 ongoing to black magic until you have a few minutes to clear your head Range tags: Hand, Reach, Near Tags: Debilitating: (half damage) Hinder or slow down an enemy. Elemental: (Fire) Set your target on fire Forceful: Knock the targets back several feet, possibly off their feet Piercing 1: Ignore 1 point of the target's armour Two Targets (-1 damage) Target two enemies at the same time. SPIDER TRAITS - (Jumping Spider) You can leap to anywhere within Near range with ease. In addition, as long as their is room to leap around in, you can use Death From Above anywhere, at any time Equipment -load 6+STR- Dungeon rations (5 uses, 1 weight) Wicked dagger (hand, 1 weight) Razor sharp claws (hand, messy, 0 weight) One healing potion There is a legend amongst the Weavers of a great web deep beneath the earth. A web to which all Weaver Orbs are connected. At the very lowest point in every Orb is a tunnel. Every time the Orbs current regent dies a new regent emerges from the hole ready to take the throne. It is theorised that at the far end of the tunnel sits the All Weaver. The first of the Kin, a creature from who all Weavers are created. It is from the web of the All Weaver that the very ground that the surface species walk on is bound. The children of the All Weavers are nourished upon the whispers of the web and emerge wise beyond their years. The All Weaver is said to be nourished by the warmth of the Masters' Pyre, logically speaking that would mean that their was a way down to the All Weaver in the light of the Pyre. But to this day none of the Weaver Kin has ever attempted the journey. Not even the exiles filled with their wanderlust have tread those stones, lest their offend the first of their kind and spell doom for all they have built. A magical art that is part of the world. Weaver Kin have long known that web can be woven into all manner of things. But it took a leap of faith to learn how to weave the threads of magic as they would the webs. The spell casters of the Weaver Kin construct their magics from threads drawn from the arcane energy of the world. It is a delicate art, and few have the skill or temperament to thread magic under anything other than lab conditions. Their magics are capable of hollowing the ground, crafting the very tunnels and caverns in which they build their Orbs. It is not this which is their greatest achievement. Once every year all capable casters gather on the surface to thread a great net across the world. The net catches the heat and warmth of summer and spring and drains the life from nature, leaving the world cold and barren. First comes the casting of Autumn. The trees whither and their energies are sapped to be rekindled during the snowy months of Winter. Not only does this have the advantage their the Colossi are incapable of attempting another breakout with their power frozen. It also gives the Weavers the opportunity to train their next generations. The net cannot last forever, and in time it melts under the warmth of the Pyre. Life emerges again to thrive and the eternal struggle resumes itself. The Weavers could theoretically craft a net strong enough to create a permanent winter. But it would be the very death of their kind, and with them gone who would remain to check the advances of the world against itself? What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? The light means little to the Weavers beyond granting respite from the attacks of the Shadows. It also gives them much greater ability to hunt the Colosi that attempt to flee the webs. Such is the ways of a race that live their lives below the surface. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? The shadows are one of many reasons that the Weavers retreated to their underground mazes. They are considered to be highly dangerous to any Weaver Kin on it's own. When encountered by groups they are considered a lesser threat. However, many are the tale of a lone shadow sneaking into the Orb and draining an unwary victim. As of right now, the Weaver Kin has no defence beyond killing the ones that make their way into the tunnels. What is your vision of an ideal world? That is a question that Dust cannot answer yet. It is hard to invasion an ideal world without seeing the world to conceptualised an idealised version. One day Dust hopes to be able to answer that question, but for now he explores and observes. Hoping to find a place in it beyond being a misfit Weaver Kin. Arashiofordo3 fucked around with this message at 20:16 on May 23, 2014 |
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May 20, 2014 13:25
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Dar'erla Tall and powerful, Dar'erla (Dar, to those she trusts) stands with confidence and pride wherever she goes. She always has a story to tell, because while she's not sure how much time has passed since she left her people, she knows she has lived through much. There is always and interesting hunt, a terrifying monster, or simply a job to do. "To live is to never stop moving. Don't stop until you see something new. And in this world? This world of hardship and wonder? There always will be. And then, after you have seen this new thing, after you have touched it, heard it, tasted it, or simply admired… go look for the next new thing. You now have a new story to tell." Description: Tall and powerful even by her people's standards, Dar's body is nonetheless the same white canvas as the rest of them. She adorns her unusually wild hair with colorful cloth, or even leaves and flowers. She does not wear much, as too many clothes would cover her tattoos, but what she does wear is always bright in color and patterns. She wears no jewelry, although this is more due to a lack of luck than desire. She owns a large cloak made from the hide of a large lizard-like monster she once hunted and killed with her people. The leather and scales of it are like a rainbow, color shifting as it catches the light. Dar displays her tattoos proudly. She does not have too many yet, as she only really wants to get ones that are meaningful to her and her journey. Along her left arm is displayed the story of the hunt of the rainbow lizard-- a stunningly beautiful display of the creature surrounded and attacked by a group of pure white beings (on close inspection, there is no ink there). On her face, she has a series of bright streaks across her right cheek, under the eyelid, which informs others that she is a hunter. She has used her right leg as a map of sorts, displaying small, surprisingly detailed landmarks which she thought were nice during her travel. There is a loft of skin left there to make the map longer. quote:Dar'erla The Barbarian Race - The Ba'shi The Ba'shi joke than when the world was created, it forgot to put color on their bodies. Every single one of them is white from head to toe; their skin, hair, pupilless eyes, even their insides and their blood. Its only because shadows are still cast across their bodies that its possible to see their features. They are rather large humanoids, easily reaching 7 feet of height or more, and often wide with muscle. They have ears with long earlobes, wide noses, and large eyes. Their hair tends to grow long and silky. Males grow large beards, while Women have to settle with long sideburns. For their own lack of color, the Ba'shi delight in covering themselves with color. Clothes and Jewelry are a favorite, but their favorite art is that of tattoos. Magic- Ritual Tattoos. It started as a way to inject color into their own skin, but the results were so wonderful it eventually got some meaning, and, in the end, power. While a Ba'shi may certainly have some tattoos just for the sake of having some color with them at all times, most have at least one that is of deep significance to them. It is a part of their history, their trials and troubles, and, if needed, they may call on them to give them strength. Perhaps it is this deep belief that gives the tattoos their magic. As such, most Ba'shi learn how to make tattoos. Their tools are one of the closest thing they have to something sacred. Holy Place - Col'Iro, The Valley of the Rainbow. As they tell the story, the Ba'shi first appeared in a place of tundra and snow. It was a harsh existence, and, back then, their lack of color let them thrive. But one day, a particularly vicious storm forced the Ba'shi to move. They entered a cave, And then, and some say this was due to the Master Pyre's guidance, they emerged on the other side, to find a valley full of color and life, the likes they had never seen. It was in this place where the Ba'shi first found what they were missing, and the means to change it. They don't actually live in said Valley, instead having spread around the edges of it, venturing inside for food and dyes. The story of how Col'Iro was found is the reason why many young ones leave their homes to see what else the world has to offer. 1. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? The Master Pyre brought color and meaning to the Ba'shi. Without it, perhaps it would be us out there, hunting in the shadows. It gave us meaning, and life, and dreams, and hope. 2. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? The Smoldering Embers are a thing of beauty and danger. See how the world changes every time they come. The shadows are frightening, but I understand them. I feel as if we came form them once, which is why I feel compelled to fight them. I am glad to have left them behind. Perhaps, some day, I may help another step out of the shadows and into the world of color. 3. What is your vision of an ideal world? A world of endless color, of endless possibilities, and of endless adventure. A world that does not need to fear the shadows, because nothing can ever make them leave… but they can still be held back and molded into something new. Kerzoro fucked around with this message at 17:09 on May 22, 2014 |
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May 20, 2014 17:30
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 It approached them slowly, almost jauntily. Its flesh the colour of undercooked chicken, it's eyes two dark pits which blazed with a hunger unlike any they'd ever seen. The children stared in dumb shock, too confused by the lopsided freak that was before them to react. "What have you got there my little dears?" It chuckles "Found something in the river?" It bent over to open the sodden sack and peered in to examine the three pathetic bundles of black fur inside. "How sad... thrown into the river for the crime of being alive. I can empathise" It smiled its smile again, or rather it's teeth extended around its head, it's mouth widening, making its head resemble a chest lid. "Do you ever feel like that? Picked on for being different?" The children backed away now, a deep unsettling dread creeping over them at the wrongness of this creature. It watched them for a second before darting forward and snatching the sack from the ground. The children scattering with terrified shouts as it bit into and consumed the corpses. Giggling to itself as it feasted. There was a small sound from behind it, before it felt its head part ways from its shoulders. Its body spasming before going limp. Joseph leaned over the fresh corpse and sighed at a job well done. Stupid thing couldn't even be bothered to hide, really he was doing it a favour giving it such a peaceful death. He congratulated himself as his body began ripping it apart in an orgy of bone and gristle. To think it dared to besmirch his good name by doing His thing? What did it think it was? People? Ha! Joseph paused mid feast to look up at the children who were peering at him from around the corner. Trying so very hard not to breath. Bless their little hearts... and he would! After all, being such good bait deserved a nice reward. Joseph considered himself a very generous man-thing. He'd give them what he gave everyone, he thought as he rose up, his meal devoured, his eyes shinning bright with mad glee. He'd give them nightmares. Bio: Horrifying is an excellent word to describe Joseph, and he revels in it. Enjoying every nuanced look of terror in the eyes of those he meets. It's how people have always reacted to him, and his powers. So that's how he believes he should be. Formed from the repressed feelings of a girl with body image issues who was on a diet and desperate to pig out. Joseph enjoys the advantage of being able to shape his body at a whim. Which is a problem when his whims are often murderous or gluttonous in nature. Another problem is that when you can morph, remembering which shape you were in last night and recreating it is incredibly difficult. Even more so when you've no idea what you look like. As such Joseph tends to wing it, his features tending to change after every morph. Ranging to grotesquely fat to almost skeletal in thinness. He likes to joke that no matter what he looks like, his heart is in the right place. But even he's not sure if that's true or not. quote:Joseph Race: The Shade - Though the Maker's Pyre keeps the true darkness at bay, its light gives shape to other things. The brightest light casts the deepest shadows, and it is from these shadows that the Shade pull themselves. They are formed from the feelings that the thinking folk hide from the makers light, repressed feelings and hidden thoughts. Should these impulses and emotions be ignored or let build up too much then a Shade forms from them, taking these feelings from their "parent" and embodying them. Obviously, most Shade are seen as something twisted and evil. An invasion of the night into the day. But there are exceptions to every rule, a love long ignored for the sake of another's happiness might give birth to a kind and caring Shade, wishing only to love and be loved in return. However unlikely that may be. The Shade have no unifying government or creed, and their lives are often short and brutal. They rarely even have a unifying shape, being born from all races equally. Their unifying feature seems to be best described as an outline. They stand out, like they'd been overlayed over the top of your vision. They grab your attention without even meaning to. It should be noted they don't even get on very well as a species as they annoy the poo poo out of each other. Each entirely wrapped up in their own goals and ambitions. Those that last long enough to learn some modicum of control tend to enter into polite society. But always find themselves on the fringe, distrusted at best, hated at worse. Regardless, so long as there are shadows in the hearts of folks, there will always be Shades. Magic: Work in progress. Will add descriptions + answer posted questions later.  Also if I'm breaking tables give me a shout, I always end up doing that when I post character sheets for some reason. JohnOfOrdo3 fucked around with this message at 10:47 on Jun 1, 2014 |
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May 20, 2014 22:28
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 Stagnation is death. I want to see the world grow untamed and free. I will show the world that the Smoldering Embers are not to be overcome, but embraced as part of natural cycle. I will be an example to my people, showing them that freedom and creation are more important than safety and stability. I am Casus. pre:Casus Level 2 Sky Dancer XP: 0/9 Look: Humanoid-Shaped Light (Unhosted), Elemental (Hosted) Damage: d8 Armor: 2 HP: 15 Stats: STR 9 (+0) DEX 16 (+2) CON 9 (+0) INT 13 (+1) WIS 15 (+1) CHA 12 (+0) Drive: Personal Freedom Avoid or escape from trouble without resolving it Means of Flight: Natural Your base damage is d8 instead of d6. Bonds This isn't the first time ____________ and I have danced together. I have a message for ____________ , but they are not ready to hear it yet. ____________ hasn't yet seen everything the skies have in store for them. I'm keeping an eye out for ____________ . Moves Take To the Sky (DEX) You are capable of controlled flight. You can fly as often and as far as you like, although you may need to Undertake a Perilous Journey if you go too far. When you fly to get somewhere otherwise out of reach, roll +DEX. On a 10+, you get where you need to be, no problem. On a 7-9, you're there, but choose one: • A threat is waiting for you when you get there • The winds are uncooperative, and you don't get there as quickly as you'd expect • Your landing is better described as a crash Leaf on the Wind (DEX) When you dance away from an opponent's attack, roll +DEX. On a 10+, choose two. On a 7-9, choose one: • You avoid their attack • You slip away to somewhere they can't follow you • You taunt them, drawing their full attention Eye in the Sky When you look around from high above, take +1 to Undertake a Perilous Journey, Take Watch, and Discern Realities. I've Got A Bad Feeling About This When you spend a moment surveying an area, ask the GM two of the following questions. The GM must answer truthfully. • Where's my best way in, out, or through? • Is there a trap or ambush here, and if so, where? • What here is the biggest threat to me? • What can I see that no one else can? Level 2: Fluid Motion When you Hack & Slash or use Leaf On The Wind against a melee attach, on a 7+, your fluid motions control their clumsy ones. Move them anywhere within Reach of you. Gear (Load 5/9) Dungeon Rations (5 uses, 1 weight) Energy Blade (close, precise, 1 weight) Light Energy Shield (+1 armor, 2 weight) Binoculars and a compass (0 weight) Lightweave Lifeforce Armor (1 armor, 1 weight) Souldcæ are pure creation-energy beings. They are naturally formless, though at least the members of my tribe, Euryalæ, tend to appear humanoid, due to their dealings with other humanoid races. Souldcæ cannot survive for more than a short time as pure energy so they inhabit "hosts" by giving life to simple objects like a pile of stones, a puddle of water, or a campfire. Under extreme circumstances a Souldcæ can inhabit a living host, though this has always been treated. When Souldcæ inhabit these objects they appear similar to elementals, though the actual shape they take varies by individual. Unfortunately, inhabiting these objects is also only a temporary measure. The Souldcæ can only use a host for a period of time before the host is burnt out and destroyed. Recently however, a few humans, thinking folk, have willingly served as hosts. These hosts have survived far longer than any hosts before, which has led to the growing belief in my tribe that the Souldcæ should be finding a way to permanently bind with willing thinking folk hosts. The Souldcæ are tribal, and until now, were not focused on staying in one place or creating any sort of civilization. Once the elder, Plytus, performed the first human hosting, everything changed. My People are forgetting what they are in the hopes of living stable lives, the hopes of leaving hosting behind. But hosting is what makes us Souldcæ! We are creators! We take Nothing and make it Something for a short while! Something greater than a mere pile of stones or puddle of water! I refuse to give up the freedom of being a Souldcæ for the stability of a permanent host. I wish I could show my tribe that this is not what we were made for. We were made to be free. To create in nature. We should not emulate the other races that try to order the chaos. Magical Attribute A Souldcæ can focus on imbuing an object or small group of objects with the Souldcæ’s creation energy to spur its growth or development. If a Souldcæ imbues all of its creation energy into the object or objects, the Souldcæ can use the object(s) as a temporary host. The Souldcæ can shape the objects to a form of his or her choosing, but the Souldcæ takes on some of the attributes of the host. - Solid You are made of something solid, like iron, stone, or crystal. Your body is incredibly difficult to harm, giving you 2 Armor. - Putty You are made of something between solid and liquid, like clay, taffy, or flesh. Your body puts itself back together easily. When you roll a 10+ on any roll, heal 2 HP. Choose a source of damage (fire, acid, cold iron, magic, poisons) that you cannot naturally heal damage from, through either this move or the Make Camp move. - Liquid You are made of something amorphous, like water, clouds, or fabrics. Your body is incredibly flexible, and you can squeeze through gaps of any size. - Danger You are made of something extremely dangerous, like fire, acid, or poison. When someone touches you for more than a moment without some kind of protection, they take 1d4 damage. Vision for an Ideal World Look at the world. Many ask, "Why didn't the Master finish the job?" But, he did! The world is supposed to be like this. Chaotic. Free. Left for us to nurture what he started and let it grow wild. But can't you feel what the Races are doing to the world. Shaping it to their will. They are trying to rake the world into neat rows, but that defies its very nature! Many thinking folk, out of fear or greed or both, wish to enslave the world and reshape it in their image. I only wish to free the world and let it flourish in the chaos. Important Place You need look no further than what the humans have done to the once beautiful lands. Turned them into giant mountains of stone and sprawling towns where nature no longer survives. They cut down trees, hunt animals, and dam the rivers for their own benefit. They lust for control. And now they've infected my people with the same desire. The city of Lyfshayn exemplifies this behavior. They build Ziggurats to reach the Master himself. No doubt so that they can force him into servitude. They have no respect for the balance of the Master's Pyre and Smoldering Embers. The humans of Lyfshayn see the Smoldering Embers as a hindrance to their goals. As something to be feared. So they try to fight it, not realizing their fear just make the fight harder, and the shadows more deadly. Lyfshayn is the closest thinking folk settlement to my tribe's land, and it is the people there who have infected my tribe with thoughts of safety and stagnation. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? The Master’s Pyre is the source of creation. It is to be respected, but not revered. Much like the Master himself. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? The Smoldering Embers are needed to balance the world. The struggles provided by the Smoldering Embers are necessary so that the world can continually change to realize its full potential. EnjoiThePureTrip fucked around with this message at 17:59 on May 26, 2014 |
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May 22, 2014 15:36
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Slowly adding more bits to my app. Still have to write 'master pyre's meaning to race' 'Shadows and the ember' and 'perfect world' then it should be good to go. Will need to find a picture but other than that most of the elements are there. Also, I can see Dust and the app above me getting on "really well". 
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May 22, 2014 23:24
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Thanks to all who've applied so far! Tomorrow I'll be posting some questions for everyone who's posted an application. About a week and a half to go yet, though, so nobody should feel like they have to rush one out.
King Cohort fucked around with this message at 01:52 on May 23, 2014 |
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May 23, 2014 01:46
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Finished writing my application. I look forward to those further questions.
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May 23, 2014 20:17
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StringOfLetters - Guardian Rerk of the Hive Folk How do the individual fiefs of your people get along? Do they take orders from the Queens, or are the Princesses that rule them mostly autonomous? Has there ever been cause for conflict between fiefs, direct or indirect? When you relinquished your status as a Princess, what happened to the fief you were intended to rule, and the hive folk there? Are there times that make you regret forsaking that path? slydingdoor - Evetta of the Fonsecans How was it that your people began interring their dead rulers in the Ziggurats of the Immortals? What is the most egregorious offense your people have committed in the Immortals' name? Who else reveres Lahyf as you do? Have you ever had cause to show mercy to thinking folk you would have slain under normal circumstances? Benny Profane - Lophiid of the Gulpers Have there ever been any attempts of the Gulpers to settle the surface? How do your people fight off the aquatic shadows--with strength of self, with steel, with spells, or something else entirely? How does the design of the Masters' Pyre reflect on the Masters themselves? Are they incompetent, unknowing, actively malicious, or something else? What is the most valuable quality for a surface dweller to have? Ryuujin - The Faeries Have the faeries ever had cause to fight one another? Were your people always a hive-mind? If not, how did it form? Were there those among the faeries who opposed your band as it took control of the larger communal mind? How do you fight off the shadows without a singular identity? Arashiofordo3 - Dust of the Weaver Kin Are the colossi somehow valuable to your people, or are they hunted for sport instead? Was there ever a time when they were free? What's one momento Dust carries that has meaning to him? What does he miss about life in his orb now that he's an explorer? Kerzoro - Dar'erla of the Ba'shi What habits or customs remain from the days the Ba'shi wandered the tundra? Your people might not live in it, but has anyone ventured deep into Col'Iro itself and returned to tell the tale? What does Dar'erla's rainbow lizard ritual tattoo do for her? You think the shadows can be molded into something new; what have you seen that encourages this possibility? EnjoiThePureTrip - Casus of the Souldcæ How do the Souldcæ fight off the shadows when their identities are constantly changing? Have those Souldcæ with permanent hosts had better luck against the shadows, since they are two personalities in one body? Has there been any case where hosting of a thinking folk has gone wrong somehow? What is Casus's favorite sort of form to inhabit, and why? What fate do you fear will befall your tribe if they embrace stagnation and give up hosting?
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May 24, 2014 02:58
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Rin-Bas-Yul, Summoner As a child, Rin-Bas-Yul never had any reason to believe that he was different from his peers. Born with a sharp, inquisitive mind and with none other than the chieftain of flight Bas as his caretaker, he spent his days getting into trouble all over Caer Bas and devouring stories of the open skies from those who had already undergone the first molt. That his left arm terminated roughly at the elbow in an awkward cluster of stubby fingers was never more than a minor annoyance, and there was always someone around and willing to help if a task required two hands. But time passed, as it must. There was no one day on which it happened, but as Rin watched his friends grow in their feathers and take to the skies one-by-one, it became increasingly obvious that he would never join them. They were understanding, at first, and cheerfully shared stories of their adventures, but as more gained their wings a subtle change took place. They seemed to have less and less time for Rin, and behind their graceful smiles he began to see something new- fear. Not of Rin, but of what he represented; fear of the possibility that any one of them could have been- could still be- so irrevocably, profoundly damaged. In time, Rin began to withdraw from life in the Caer. It was a chance encounter with his caretaker, Yul-Bas-Lon, during a fit of boredom that would set Rin's life on a different course. Seeing his listlessness, Yul suggested spending some time in the archives. Rin followed his advice, expecting only a different kind of boredom, but soon found himself ravenously devouring the scrolls. He learned a great many things, but was fascinated above all by reports of the other races that lived on the world below- for all their mastery of the skies, his peers rarely concerned themselves with what was beneath them. Weeks passed, and in time dusty scrolls were not enough. A plan began to hatch in his mind, something that no one had done before, and he mulled it over for countless fitful nights before asking Yul's leave to depart the Caern and journey among the low people. Yul gave him his blessing and the supplies he had already had prepared since the day of that 'chance' encounter. Something died on that day, and something strange and new was born in its place. Who can say what lies beyond the next horizon? Spirits The Eclipsing Wings  The warmth of the nest. Safety. Invincible, protecting strength through the eyes of a child. A figure with vast wings whose face is a light too bright to gaze upon. Agenda (defend the helpless), Flying, Sacred, Elemental (Light) The Laughing Flame  Youth discovering its own strength. Boundless courage. The will to make one’s own way. A hulking lion with a mane of flame. Deceptively fast for its size. Agenda (exert dominance), Elemental (Flame), Large pre:Basic info HP: 23 Str: 9 (+0) Dex: 8 (-1) Con: 15 (+1) Int: 13 (+1) Wis: [16+1] (+2) Cha: 12 (+1) Drive: Study the Occult Learn something new about the world. Background: From the Authority of the Ancient Pact All spirits gain the 'Agenda' trait for free. Inventory: Heavy Clothing (1 armor, 1 weight) Survival Knife (hand, 1 weight) A Gift From Your Mentor (0 weight) Moves Forms of the Formless Begin play with one spirit. By default, a manifested spirit is about the size of a large horse and deals 1d8 damage. Your spirit begins play with four points worth of the following traits: 1 point traits: •Sacred: The spirit represents something that is revered by most cultures, and entitles you to respect or hospitality if your bond with is discovered. •Untamed: The spirit has a special bond with creatures of nature and can be commanded to negotiate with or influence them, •Tiny: The spirit is small enough to fit in a bag. •Lesser elemental: The spirit has the ability to manipulate objects or forces within a chosen element. •Warlike: Add one of the following tags to attacks made by your spirit: Near, forceful, messy. •Amorphous: The spirit consists of a swarm or is otherwise able to alter its shape. •Flying: Pretty much what it sounds like. 2 point traits: Elemental: The spirit has the ability to create, destroy, or manipulate objects or forces within a chosen element, Large: The spirit is about the size of a large horse-drawn carriage (horses included) Trio: The spirit consists of 3 separate parts that can act independently Agenda: The spirit has some specific nature of objective which guides its actions. Commands in line with this agenda are made at +1 (max of +3), commands that contradict it are made at -1. Healing: The spirit can be commanded to heal others for an amount equal to its damage. Avatar: The spirit is strongly tied to a specific emotion and can inspire it in others. Summon When you attempt to give physical form to one of your spirits, dismiss any spirits previously summoned with this move, lose all pact, and roll +wis. On a 10+, your spirit is summoned and you gain 2 pact. On a 7-9, same, but the spirit emerges with some defect or imperfection. Make this move at -1 if you attempt to summon the same spirit multiple times within several hours. Command When you issue a command to a summoned spirit, roll +pact. On a 10+ the command is executed without issue. On a 7-9, choose one. On a miss, lose 1 pact in addition to other outcomes. •Your spirit is wounded or fatigued, lose 1 pact. •Your spirit misinterprets the command or executes it a little too vigorously, causing collateral damage or unintended side-effects. •Your spirit draws unwanted attention to you or to itself. If you would lose pact and have none, the spirit is immediately dismissed. Practiced Summoner Gain an additional spirit with trait points equal to that possessed by your other spirits. While they still wait in their eggs before hatching, Sylph infants dream of the sky. Without names or meanings to place upon the sensations, they feel the rush of wind, the thrill in their stomach, and the primal freedom of open flight. After hatching, it will be many years before their wings are strong enough to bear their weight, but the memory of the before-dream is seared into their consciousness and drives them to master their wings. Those who, like Rin-Bas-Yul, are for whatever reason unable to fly are viewed with an earnest pity that often shifts to discomfort with extended contact. The mere thought of losing the sky is deeply disquieting, and does not bear dwelling on. Sylph are avian humanoids organized into clan-like social structures called ‘Flights’ (as indicated by his name, Rin-Bas-Yul is a member of Flight Bas). A single Flight generally controls a mountain or three, making its home high up in the defensible peaks. Sylph eggs are kept warm in a communal nest and then divided up among several caretakers when they hatch. Caretaker positions are vied for by powerful elders and carry with them a great deal of political power; after all, they hold the very future in their talons. Rin’s caretaker, Yul-Bas-Lon, is the current chieftain of Flight Bas. A magical art that is part of the world. The pearls of self. Nearly universal among the thinking folk, pearls are the first and most basic line of defense against the shadows. In essence, the pearls of self represent personal focal points- aspects of the road one has traveled- which are refined through focus into magical foci. The first and most basic form of the pearls is nearly universal among the thinking folk, and indeed often used unintentionally by would-be victims of shadows with no knowledge; it is simply a sort of self-affirmation which can be used as a crude bulwark against the ego-draining effects of shadows. Those who are particularly strong-willed can even use this form to repel or banish weaker shadows. With further training, pearls can be used to produce powerful magical effects above and beyond repelling shadows. However, this brand of magic is both unpredictable and notoriously difficult to teach due to its deeply personal nature. Rin-Bas-Yul is one of the few who have ascended to a high degree of skill in this art, using it to physically summon aspects of himself as powerful creatures. A place important to your people. The sanctum of four winds rests at the center of the world, at the peak of a mountain accessible only by flight. It is a sprawling palace that represents one of the very few neutral grounds between the flights; in addition to being a center of commerce and a meeting ground in times of trouble, it is revered as the site where the Master created the first sylph. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? To my people, the pyre is all; it gave us the gift of flight, and its thermals bear us through the clouds. Perhaps they see it more clearly from the sky, but when I squint up at it while hobbling on the ground with my stunted wing… I wonder. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? The shadows… they exist for a reason. I believe there is something we have yet to learn from their presence. What is your vision of an ideal world? The voices of all the thinking people rising as one, not in unison, but in chorus. Men are eager to seek distant treasures, yet we ignore the ones that stand beside us. Androc fucked around with this message at 02:42 on May 26, 2014 |
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May 24, 2014 04:49
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King Cohort posted:StringOfLetters - Guardian Rerk of the Hive Folk Usually very well. We spread out, not from any major conflict, but to have room to grow. It's tradition for a fledgling Princess to birth and raise her family in the security of her Queen-mother's hive, and then once they have manpower enough (say, thirty children), to gather some seeding supplies and travel off to colonize new land. Once they are self-sufficient, and when they are able, they pay tithe back to their hive of origin. Ostensibly, everyone is completely loyal to the Queens. However, fiefs are days or weeks removed from each other, and orders are rarely given, so they are practically autonomous. There are some petty conflicts - 'I saw it first,' 'how dare you insult my prized warrior,' 'the only way you could have such a bountiful yield is by cursing my fields,' et-cetera, which sometimes escalate to organized beatings, theft, vandalism, and rumor-mongering. If it gets out of hand, their Queen will usually hear of it and come to a just decision - aggressor pays retribution, or both sides are forced to apologize and drop it. If the feud is between Princesses born to different Queens, and they cannot agree, it is then referred to the First Queen. That... rarely happens. Nobody likes to bother her. If someone refuses to tithe their Queen despite surplus, they are shamed and sanctioned. That is usually enough. If there were ever a renegade who could not be reasoned with - this has been threatened, but not carried out - the Queen would levy an army from her own children and child fiefs, and invade in force. Any of the renegade's children who surrendered would be split up and forcibly adopted into other families. Any who didn't would be killed and eaten, to be reborn to a sane and loyal mother. The renegade herself would be killed and buried, to be eaten by worms and forgotten. My own fief was never made. There isn't any precedent I know of for abandoning that path to become Paladin. My sister, Princess Kterk, adopted my few children and went off to found her own colony. I haven't had a chance to visit in... gosh, I suppose it's been years. I heard they struck a rich vein of ore, and are doing well. They have said they are proud of what I do, but I fear they might resent me. Kterk says she is jealous of me, that she wishes she could travel, but I think she is just trying to make me feel better. Yes, I have regrets. This life is stressful. I get lonely. I miss my friends, sisters, and sons. That is, only sometimes. I do not think Mother Death would have chosen a gardener-champion with blind faith, who did not sometimes doubt her mission - I am always able to remind myself that this is a service worth doing. That I'm making a better garden, for my people and for other thinkers unmet. I see wonders and meet new life beyond the dreams of my home kin. That's cool, I guess. StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 09:30 on May 24, 2014 |
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May 24, 2014 06:49
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King Cohort posted:Ryuujin - The Faeries At one time the faeries seemed to be more individualistic, back then they did not seem to have a communal mind. Their mischievousness and cruelty came out quite often against their own kind. Still it was relatively tame compared to the period that followed. First one, then another and another, individual seemed to develop some kind of connection with other faeries. These individuals developed into much like a queen bee, gaining a connection with a group of faeries and seemingly having a great deal of say in how they acted. As more faeries gained this ability they began to lead their followers into assaults on other groups. It seemed those with that power did not wish to let any others live who also had the power. The battles continued for some time. Perhaps one group finally finished off all the others, or more likely so many faeries gained this ability that soon they were all connected. All that followed became those that lead. And with none to lead those who led began to connect with each other. These new groups had no specific leader, instead the personalities of the group slowly merged until a new gestalt personality arose. In time the battles ended as more and more joined the new gestalt mind. There was little purpose in fighting those that were a part of you, those that you could feel die. And now the faeries are one big consciousness, working in almost perfect concert.
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May 25, 2014 05:04
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Dust - Further questions Are the colossi somehow valuable to your people, or are they hunted for sport instead? Was there ever a time when they were free? The Colossi are a direct result of the binding of the mountains and forests. Early legend tells of how when they were free they wandered the world. They knew no conscience or empathy. All would be annihilated under the weight of their footsteps. What few creatures lived on the surface were crushed underfoot and their great works were torn asunder. Nought could survive in the light of the Pyre. For a time the thinking peoples retreated underground. It was in this time that the Weaver Kin came to be. They confronted the forests and caged the mountains. Binding them within the network of webs that trapped their roots and provided the nourishment that the prisoners would need to survive. But the rocks despised their imprisonment and the wood strained against their bonds. But the Weavers refused their pleas for freedom. Adding more and more webs to ensure that they would never be free again. So a plan was hatched. Great creatures in the shape of a man, constructed from the elements of their parents. The strode forth from the hearts of the mountains. The strength of the Colossi was such that the webs alone could not hold them and they brooked no desire for diplomacy. The Weavers were at first unsure of these giants. They roamed free, watched from afar. But then the slaughter began. People and animals were destroyed, towns and viliges were flattened by their unstoppable advance. This new creature cared for the smaller races as much as it's parents had. So a second option was considered. Death. Using their webs the Weavers dismembered the giants. Tearing them asunder until they could move no more. Even so it was a dangerous job, even with the Weavers speed and agility many could die before a Colossi were felled. Were it not for the speed of reproduction of the Weavers and the long time it took to form a Colossi, the Weavers could have been wiped out in a few generations. As it is a large number of warriors are raised and trained. For there are always more Colossi trying to break free of the prisons of their creators. The Colossi corpses were made use of. Those of stone often had mineral wealth within their forms and from them the Weavers learned to smith. Crafting simple weapons and tools. From the bodies of the treemen came wood. Such that the Weavers could burn and craft, a defence to hold back the shadows. There is no sport in the fight, there is only duty. Less harm can come to the Thinking peoples if the Giants were felled before they could breech the outer edge of the forests. So the secret war goes on between nature and its wardens. Perhaps to the end of time itself, when all is but ash. What's one momento Dust carries that has meaning to him? What does he miss about life in his orb now that he's an explorer? Dust is very fond of a small pendent he found in the ruins of a long abandoned settlement. Little remained but bones and tattered memories of where life once thrived. He spent much time here, scouring the buildings their their basements. Trying to discover what had lived here. At last he found three bodies. Their flesh long since picked clean. Two huddled around a third smaller one. A child he presumed. Within the hands of the child rested a small shining object. Curious Dust picked it up and held it to the light. It was an abstraction of the Pyre. Carved from stone but polished to a fine shine. The significance escaped him, but clearly it had meant something to these people. It seemed disrespectful to cast it aside. These people had valued it. Why shouldn't he? So he carefully placed it in his pack. Often he will retrieve it and stare at it, wondering. To him it is a symbol of the world crushed under Colossi. It's beauty forgotten and its people dead. Yet it also represents his defiance and the choice he made to leave his Orb. One day he may return to share all that he has learned. But for now there is more forbidden world to see. Of all the things Dust misses about life in his Orb, it is the sense of purpose. All Weaver Kin are united by their common purpose. It unites them, these is no concept of rich and poor. What would be the point? A divided Orb will only lead to the webs breaking down. Such a thing can never be aloud to pass. Since leaving, Dust has had to come to grips with economical differences in societal living conditions. The privileged few confuse him. But these other races have no great duty, they follow their own path. Ignorant of the danger presented by the very world that his kind keep in check. But it is not his place to enlighten them. Nor is it his place to save these people and enact wide sweeping political changes. No, that is not for him to do. He is a wanderer, nothing more. They must be the ones to solve their own problems.
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May 25, 2014 12:22
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King Cohort posted:Kerzoro - Dar'erla of the Ba'shi When you live in the shadows, you hunt, and are hunted in return. Our pride is that we were never prey. To this day, we hunt, the only thing that gave a meaning to our lives when we lived among the white and the shadow, the only thing that made us survive. But the hunt itself has changed. Survival may still be a part of it, but now... now, glory plays a part of it. It is one thing to hunt with your people besides you... it is another to hunt alone. As for Col'Iro... many Ba'shi have wandered deep into it. I myself traveled as far as I dared. It is... not a hostile place, nor is it welcoming either. We learned much from the edges, there must be more inside to learn, right? But sometimes... sometimes its too much. Maybe its only for us, who came from the white and the shadow, but some of those that go to deep come back, their canvas so saturated with color that they are not Ba'shi anymore. Their words make no sense, riddles and puzzles, or just madness. Then they leave once more, and are never seen again. Ah, the rainbow lizard! It's scales turned away blade and fist aside with such ease! Even after it was dead, to remove the skin was so difficult! I hope my tattoo will give me if only a fraction of such endurance... perhaps when its legend has been spread enough, I will be gifted. Now, for the shadows... that's a story. It's an old story. The Ba'shi had just discovered Col'Iro, but the shadows remained. We had changed, and suddenly, briefly, we were prey. With the shadows hounding us, the story of the Ba'shi may have ended there. And then one of us pointed at the shadows, and gave it a Name, and with the Name, came a Form, and with Form, it became something we could fight, something we could hunt. And hunt we did. She who spoke the Name would become our first leader, and she named herself Oshe'nna, and she named us Ba'shi, and she named the valley Col'Iro. She she did this, she said, because something that has a name cannot go back to being a shadow. I do not know how she did it. Nobody does. Maybe I will find out, maybe I won't. But I believe its true, and thus I know that shadows just need a push to become something else.
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May 26, 2014 06:59
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Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to have the time to dedicate to this game. Work and life stuff has kept me busier than I thought I'd be lately. I'll definitely be following it though. It's a really cool concept and I look forward to seeing how the campaign plays out.
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May 26, 2014 17:57
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King Cohort posted:slydingdoor - Evetta of the Fonsecans Long ago the warlord Ingo the Unifier, who conquered the entire peninsula, decided that every mountain and hill in the empire should bear his image at its peak, to represent the nearby people's allegiance to him. They also sent messages across the land with smoke signals during the day and by the lighting of lamps in the dim nights. Once the empire expanded into the flat lands though, Ingo commissioned those new subjects to build Ziggurats that towered above the horizon to serve the same end. He had aged though, and disappeared on the field of battle. The storytellers say he ascended to godhood and smote all our enemies, and the flames atop every peak and ziggurat erupted with a royal violet sparks, which all streaked across the sky to meet at one such Ziggurat in particular, the one built in the middle of the last city he conquered, named Gorabah. Three days later he was found within, "reborn" and immortal. It's all propaganda of course. In reality his litter was overturned when a hail of slingstones that slew the carriers, and it took five days--an "unlucky" number--to finish up the battle let alone find him, stitch his body back together, and make a bronze cast of it to be painted and dressed up and carried around. I think he was a good ruler, Ingo, but he lost control of his legacy to an ambitious son who claimed to be able to hear and understand his father post divine metamorphosis, but only while they were alone in what was to be the first Ziggurat of the Immortals. He was the first divine interpreter, Wotar. Putting the seat of "his" empire on its cutting edge was a smart move though, but despite everything the First Divine Interpreter still envied the source of his power, the mere image and name of his father, so he decreed that each interpreter should train successors and have their own ziggurats for when they followed his ascension to godhood. Now there are so many Immortals that sustaining their appetites strangles the Fonsecan economy and any hope of cultural or political progress. As for their offenses, the worst of which is the sacrifice of thinking beings, especially outsiders, as Tribute, in hopes of securing the favor of the Immortals. Ingo never executed that many prisoners for such a sham of a reason, and would leave conquered people in charge of themselves in exchange for Tribute that they chose. He had true hegemonic power, plain to see whenever it was called upon. But despite the volume of blood poured into golden chalices nowadays, any skeptic can see that the divine interpreters have no hegemonic or magical power, only their legion and prestidigitation. I challenged them to a Debate, stacked my miracles against theirs, and burned their charlatans and their brutish "seconds" into ash. Through that offering to Lahyf I was shown their motives in a vision: they saw in me a chance for real power, if only they could usurp my position by offering me as Tribute to my own God. Then they would worship Lahyf behind closed doors while professing allegiance to the Immortals, and "ascend" any divine interpreters who defied them. But it was not meant to be. My devotion burned hotter than their ambition, because I, tempered fuel, am not afraid to consume myself, while they are just blowing smoke. And so we come to the paradox of my preaching. No one worships Lahyf as I do, because the most interested would-be converts are ever blinded by the desire to perform my miracles. They copy me like arcanists, ignorant of the significance of the rituals, and so their words and motions and Tributes bring them nothing but frustration. They accuse me of being a charlatan or tempting demon who hungers for servitude, but it is quite the opposite. I am on a search for peers, who would walk at my side, not behind me like wards begging for unearned scraps of divine investment. Ironically, destroying them allows me to grant their wish and use it to help save the world. Showing them mercy would be blasphemous, putting their unearned potential above my mission. And my own well-being. I have seen it happen, a bleeding heart letting her foe go free with a warning, only to have him return forewarned, and with greater numbers... a meaningless death, unless someone learned from the mistake.
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May 26, 2014 18:07
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Never too late for one more character, is it? After reading the setting I wanted to play some kind of wind spirit, I think the Sky Dancer could be adapted nicely for it (since the last one has dropped out.) 1. WIP  The wind gently rustled the trees and the twitter of the lark and blackbird filled the wood. With a powerful snap, the wood was silenced as the wind suddenly changed direction and split the top of the towering pine. Wood fell in splinters and in its wake, the wind picked up again. Riding on the flowing current of air, stood a grey-skinned man, scrawled with glowing tattoos, a living zephyr. By his side hung an ornamental sword, more as a badge of his title, as the blade was a virgin to battle and on his back a matching shield without a scratch on it. Though he was a Windscout, Egressoul had never been given the chance to prove himself or escort a lightbearer to the outermost reaches of the seedling. Instead, he spend his time exploring the wilds. He was supposed to discover new and interesting things to report about to the others, but all the lands around the Masters' Pyre had already been explored before. He'd seen all the bluffs, he knew where the cave that once housed the ratfolk was; he wanted to go on a real adventure in the wild land. Holding his hands in front of him, Egressoul mimicked the grip of a bow and string in his hands and the winds responded. Motes of air spun themselves into the shape of an arrow shaft as the novice Zephyroth took aim at another tree. With the howl of whipping winds, the treetop exploded with another loud crack. The air was his to command, from the slicing blades or wind to the breezy puffs or air he stood on. It was so natural, but he wanted to test himself further. He wanted to be a Lightbearer and carry the light of the Pyre into uncharted wilds and tame them. All Egressoul was is a low rank Windscout, not even an important one who could go on escorts with the Lightbearers, but a surveyor. With a building roar, small whirlwinds swarmed around his ankles. Once they had build in speed, he launched himself into the air. The wind whistled in his ears as he soared over treetops and hills, he loved it. From this height it was easy to see the Pyre from here, the crystal cities floating around the flames. As far as he'd flown, Egressoul had always been able to see the Pyre, he often wondered what lay beyond the light of the flame. Did the day even rise in the wilds, where the Pyre was too far to see? pre:Name: Egressoul the Windscout Class: Sky Dancer Race: Zephyroth STR: 9 (+0) DEX: 16 (+2) CON: 8 (-1) INT: 12 (+0) WIS: 15 (+1) CHA: 13 (+1) HP: 14 Damage: d8 Armor: 1 Drive: Explore the World Go somewhere you've never been before and check it out Background: Natural Most Zephyroth live to serve the Masters' Pyre and work as a collective to distribute its light as far as they are able by day and to fiercely guard the dying embers they delivered by night. Laking brute strength, the Zephyroth steel themselves against the shadows and other threats by calling on their great friend, the wind and sky, to buffet back foes, all while fanning the flames to keep the light alive. There are other career Zephyroth are tasked to, but their major roles are: Lightbearers, who use the flame-bearer magic to draw motes of fire from the Pyre and carry the living flame out into the world for whatever strange force inspires they to wander into the wild with the light of life. Then there are Windscouts, who are tasked with the protection of the Lightbearer and travel with them to wherever the Masters' Pyre has told them to bring light. When they are not protecting their brothers, they like to explore and seek out interesting new dreams. Lastly, there are Flamespeakers, who attempt to commune with the Masters' Pyre and interpret the whim of greater powers and dreams. They also keep records of places and dreams found by Windscouts and appraise their value. Zephyroth often live alongside other races, a large bulk of their kind living near the Masters' Pyre. They get along well with others and are flexible in their ways, trying to avoid most confrontations. If you ever try to pick a fight with one, you'll likely find they will just leave; since you don't have much of a chance of following them into the sky. They stick with their doctrine, working to share the light of the Pyre with the world in a very dogmatic manner. They have trouble understanding those who disagree with their beliefs, thinking that the Pyre is quite substantial evidence itself. 3. A magical art that is part of the world. The gift of Flame-bearer magic allows someone to draw a living flame from the Pyre. The flame remains connected to the pyre even after removal and the bond is so strong that at 'night' the flame will smother down to an ember as well, making it quite vulnerable. The flames are what dreams themselves are made out of and by spreading the light of the pyre into the world, Zephyroth and others like them hope to cultivate and bend the seedling into a world of their vision. Not all are capable of flame-bearing, but to be able to hold a part of the pyre in your hand in the ultimate honor. There are those who use this magic to find new ways to use the flames, either trying to sculpt dreams or to master the Pyre itself. Not much is known about flame-bearing yet, there are still many abilities that have yet to be discovered. 4. A place important to your people. High above the world, where you can see the Pyre clearly from any distance, the Zephyroth live on platforms of crystal and alabaster. The cities of the sky are small and localized, kept afloat by the great power of the Masters' Pyre. At night when the flame is reduced to the Smoldering Embers, the isles drift much lower, using only reserves of flame that were collected by day. Though they can store the pyre's power using flame-bearer magic, it is not yet known if a platform could be used as a vessel if enough flame was stored. However, the idea doesn't seem to plausible at the time as Lightbringers are barely able to keep the cities afloat at night. 1. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? 2. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? 3. What is your vision of an ideal world? More to come! I'll have to update from my phone later tonight, I've got to go to work. Teonis fucked around with this message at 23:51 on May 30, 2014 |
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May 30, 2014 18:18
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On the eve of selections being made, I'm going to pull out. My app isn't even done so it's not like I'd be picked anyway. But if I can't spend the time to finish a simple application then I dread to think how much effort I'd actually put into the game. Good luck to everyone else!
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Jun 1, 2014 10:47
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Oh crap! Everyone's got such great ideas! Er... quickly throw something together that might good. Sorry if this one's a little bit weird, but I thought this could be interesting: Sleeping-Soundly - Gladiator of The Fold  Race - The Fold The Fold is a young race, so they believe, coming after all the other Thinking Folk. They are strange as they appear to be made of some oddly dimensioned essence, giving them a curious form as if they had been creased into shape from some other element. They do not share the same shape between them - all of the Fold are of many different forms and colours and patterns, but are recognisable as being of the Fold due to the fact that, whether like a lion, a dancing woman, or even a boat, they all appear to have been folded into their form. Primarily they believe that they are imitations, designed by the masters to live as beautiful interpretations and copies of all things that can be found in the seedling. Some go so far as to suggest that it is the Pyre itself that forges their forms from some base essence or soul that they call the Washi, making it so that they come to represent some other form. They devote their time to attempting to understand the shape that they have been given, working on making sense of their shape and form and seeking to understand through that appearance what they must represent. Once they have discerned this, they go about attempting to live or be a perfect imitation of whatever form they have been given. One of the Fold can spend many, many years working at understanding why their leg is bent at just such an angle, and coming to realisations about the nature of the being they must be imitating. Given this inward focus the Fold is insular, content with being the captured essence of things, and working toward perfecting the copy. For they reason that the masters must have need to have a ready version of all things. Some say it is because of the Ember. From the Ember come shadows that can unfold things, make people question their forms and essence. The Ember itself is a Mockery, an imperfect copy of the Pyre, built via inelegant cutting and fixing where the Pyre, and the Fold, are true-formed. The Fold therefore reasons that they are successful Embers, copies made to succeed where it failed. There has not yet been any questioning of why copies might be needed, it is just considered self-evident when you look at the sky. (if I'm not clear, The Fold are not supposed to be made of paper they just look like they are, they can move and interact with objects, and are able to somehow eat ordinary food and drink) Magic - True-formed Sense By their nature, the Fold can often sense the difference between the essence of something and a Mockery. By sensing the Washi of places and people, they can discern if things are not true, hidden, or malformed. They can even sense improper creases, detecting weaknesses or illness. It is even said that the ruler of The Fold, the Thousandfold Crane, can refold some malformed Washi or even unfold Mockeries through this ability. Some of the most skilled of The Fold can even use this sense to make objects better and more fine, making them even more true to their purpose. It is also said that anyone can learn how to sense the true-form of things, if they are true to themselves. Place - Immaculate Hundred Stones Shrine  Once a shining and multi-hued temple, the Immaculate Hundred Stones Shrine has fallen into ruins. Accessible only by a rope bridge over a cloud-filled drop to a tiny island of rock, it is the home of the Thousandfold Crane and a site of pilgrimage for The Fold. No one is sure why it has fallen into such disrepair, but the prevailing theory is that something happened to the place it is obviously an imitation of. Something so terrible happened to the original's Washi that its copy is falling to pieces. The serene and enigmatic Thousandfold Crane says nothing of this, and receives all pilgrims warmly to impart knowledge and wisdom, and revealing the Stone that will be of most benefit. pre:Basic info HP: 22 Str: [15+1] (+2) Dex: 13 (+1) Con: 12 (+0) Int: 8 (-1) Wis: 9 (+0) Cha: 16 (+2) Rain-Scares-Not had finally determined she must be the copy of a farmer, and wanted to bring up her son by the Ember-Rise fields far on the edge of The Fold where the best soil could be found, she imagined. It was hard work, but her husband Turns-to-Noise had realised he was the imitation of the devoted family man and stayed with her through thick and thin. Their boy they originally thought was just well-behaved, a quiet child of soft saffron hue in contrast to his mother's high-born patterning and father's shine. But it soon became clear that he was simply deaf, and it had taken some time for them to realise it. Turns-to-Noise spent long hours making up lost time, trying to reach his simple child while Rain-Scares-Not continued to support them in the fields. But although he managed to reach him and taught him to cope with the deafness, he began to doubt that he could help the boy. The concepts of The Fold and the need to find purpose did not seem to make sense to him, and the boy even tried to help his mother in the field! So Turns began to question and doubt his purpose - if the boy was not responding well then he obviously could not be the copy of the devoted family man he thought he was. And then the shadows took him. It was the grief of his mother that pulled Sleeping-Soundly into realising his purpose. While she wept, he tilled and ploughed. When she faltered, he tended the herd. When he saw sadness in his eyes, he entertained her. And his struggle lifted Rain and gave her strength back, reinvigorating her purpose and keeping the shadows away. He fought for both of them. He never finished his pilgrimage to the Immaculate Hundred Stones Shrine. He had started because his mother began to despair that he had concentrated so much on who she must have been a copy of that he had not found who he was. So, perhaps earlier than others had taken it, she pushed him to take the pilgrimage and travel to the Shrine, closer to the Ember-Rise fields than from further in The Fold. But he was waylaid by those who had decided quite definitely that they were copies of selfish and uncaring individuals, and ambushed him just as he caught sight of the Shrine in the mists. Two of them died, not quite expecting a flat-coloured and slow-looking youth to be ready for a fight, but he was netted and caged with the others who had been snatched on the road to the Thousandfold Crane, taken to be fodder at the House of Tempests. Strangely, he was not treated cruelly. Thinking back, Sleeping-Soundly does wonder now if it was because he did not seem to fully understand what was going on when they handed out crude sharpened tools to the captives in the dingy, sticky-sand-strewn floor beneath the enormous structure. Even when they were ushered into the grand arena around which the House of Tempests was built, facing off dangerous animals and other similarly-armed captives he wandered about smiling vaguely and waving to the crowd. It was not until a panicked struggle with a tiger ended with him staggering away badly hurt, yet alive, that he began to think that things had not turned out the way that was intended when he started the trip. Over the years, Sleeping-Soundly proved to be a very skilled and ultimately artful combatant. While he did not enjoy harming the others of The Fold that he fought, nor seeing animals in pain, he did enjoy hearing the crowd and feeling their energy. There were many people not of The Fold who came to the disreputable House of Tempests to put in wagers, and some he actually fought. But for one who had not yet understood his purpose, he remained dangerous and entertaining in the ring, oddly content amidst the hard camaraderie and blood. He technically never won his freedom. It was a conversation with the Master of Gladiators, Never-Hungry, that led to it. She thought herself highly educated and a philosopher, and had once been a talesinger in her youth until she had realised her true purpose. In Sleeping-Soundly she found an avid and attentive student, and talked at length with him about The Fold, the Pyre, the masters, the wide lands and peoples of the seedling. Most of that Sleeping-Soundly found hard to follow, but he at least understood poetry, often composing little pieces of verse that delighted him. However, it was in discussion of the nature of imitation that Never-Hungry realised that Sleeping-Soundly did not understand what purpose truly was. She spent an hour describing to him that he needed to work out who he was an imitation of from who he was, and that drill down to that until it was perfected. Sleeping-Soundly thought for a while and then announced one thing that none of The Fold had ever said before. He wanted to go and find the person he was copying. The next day he found himself let outside the House of Tempests, given some small supplies and carrying his signature weapons from the arena. He had a new pilgrimage now, and hopefully a new purpose. 1. What does the Masters' Pyre and its flames mean to you? Well, my father said that the Pyre was the source of what we all are, and what we should aspire to be - making everyone better by being the best we are. The flames are a perfection that gives light and warmth to all, and we should be thankful for it. Without it, there would be no seedling, and thus there would be no perfections. Just... nothing. 2. What do the Smoldering Embers and its shadows mean to you? I... I don't like the shadows. The Ember is what happens if you have the duty to be like the Pyre but decide that it's more important to hide from people, or to hurt them. The shadows made my father think he wasn't a good imitation, and then they killed him for that doubt. The Ember is everything that's wrong with the seedling. 3. What is your vision of an ideal world? A quiet place, a soft place. Where everyone knows who they are and how to be who they are. A place where no one tells someone else that they've failed for doing the best they could. Where the Pyre shines bright, and the right copy of the Pyre shines just as bright. Where there is a place for everyoone, especially my father.
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Jun 1, 2014 13:15
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I regret to say that, due to a confluence of bad timing, real-life troubles and lack of interest, I'm not going to be running this game after all. I apologize for wasting the time of anyone who applied, but at the same time, thank you for your inspired applications--they were a joy to read.
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Jun 2, 2014 02:24
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