[Forum Game] Landfallen

NAME: Kurgan "Bronze-Axe" Tryggsnev
CLASS: Soldier
RACE: DWARF!
Start WITH: 10 units but base gold.
STARTING REGION: The Empire of the Stone
BACKSTORY: These dwarves serve Emperor Fuvki Ironhelm, however, their loyalties are doubtful, as many dwarves of this time are. The Emperor is sick and his line has experienced a tyramid of disasters that have racked his dynasty and kin. The successor is unknown, and the Emperor bridges the final stage of his life... He will start crystallizing and turning into stone in any where between a few years to a couple hundred. The King is widely remarked as weak-willed, so his term might not as long as he might like... Nevertheless, like all Emperors, he desperately searches for the Doukcrystal, a fabled legend that can restore a dwarf's life back to when he was young. It would bring him untold wealth and knowledge... Most Loremasters dismiss this claim, however, and that it is merely fable and legend.

Kurgan is a low noble among the dwarves, but despite this, he is still highest ranking among his band of friends. His caste allows him to more or less choose his profession, but most of his kind choose to be soldiers, their petty riches allowing them to purchase their own armor.. and thus, any victories they make are not spent paying off said armor, but rather rewarding themselves with the riches of battle. He has a stern resolve, and is not one to chuckle first, the others respect him deeply and his caution has saved them countless times. What he seeks is unkown to all but one..



Kade Fierytin, a lore master, he is eldest among their dwarves and a strong adviser of Kurgan. He has spent centuries studying tomes, legends, and the history of the dwarves, and thus his wisdom is great. He is usually soft-hearted, and enjoys life, but as many lore masters... His curiosity had grown too great, and he tried to establish some ancient fables as his own, taking them from the Grand Library. Thus, he was dispelled from his college of knowledge, and any other does not accept him. He was therefore forced to travel with this band, but it was on his own accord. He enjoys the other dwarves, and the more... Dwarven interaction he gets from them.



Balin was raised on the streets of a minor town, he grew to be a petty thief from his life of orphanage. He is casteless because of this, thus he spends most of his time drinking and lying about his real identity. He was found by Kurgan when a few of his friends tried to rob the dwarf blind, sadly, Kurgan was accompanied by his trusty bronze axe, to which he used to bring the perpetrators to justice. He chose to spare Balin for his quick words and pleas for mercy, thinking him to be useful for in the future. Balin is in service towards his master, he who slowly became his friend as well. He is quick-witted, and a goodhand at whatever is needed, but prefers not to fight for his lack of skill.



Groth "Fire-Beard" Skagsson, a mighty dwarves metal worker. He is a pioneer of new dwarves technology that utilizes gunpowder. He has built himself a personal cannon because of it, and wears a stylish outfit to accompany his colors. He worked in Kurgan's household, and has known the dwarf since he was a boy. He is a loud fellow, that draws much attention because of his "charm"(as he puts it). He only drinks the toughest of ales and whiskeys, and has proven himself to be a favorite among the band, being Kurgan's right hand and even leading some of the dwarves on second-parties if needed.



Fodrin comes from a line of merchants, thus explaining his clothing. He is a stealthy dwarf that knows the hardness of life, having been through quite his fair share of the brutality of the caste system. Despite his family's urges, he wanted to become an archer, which, most dwarves just didn't do. It was not a prestigious job, and belonged to lower families and even the casteless. Despite this he did not deter, and worked hard to become a skillful crossbowman, which Kurgan admires him for. He is a good helping hand, and won't run at the sight of danger.



Brogar Grutterson, a quick to anger, and a quick to drink dwarf. He is often seen growling, and enjoys nothing more then dispatching a round of orcs while perhaps downing a round of ale. His family was once in prominence, but centuries of debauchery and scandalous affairs brought their local magister to strip them of most of their titles. Brogar is now just another Bronzebeard dwarf, his father half-stonish and his mother having died years ago, he has a vengeance like no other: one of loneliness. When he was picked up by Kurgan, he did not believe it, almost refusing out of fear. But with the Empire shaky at best, he agreed to leave his family and join this adventuring group.



Ulfar is a apprentice Runemaster. He has not earned the title yet, and thus only knows a few runes. Nevertheless he still styles himself in the most abundant of runic armor and trinkets, earning him the teasing of other dwarves. He has never taken a wound yet, however that is mostly because he hasn't been in many battles. He is bookish, despite his affinities towards the axe, and knows much of the history of runes. The dwarven power of runes comes from their ancestors, the stone giants, which granted them the ancient magic, this power is however decreasing slowly... Runes just being copied over and over, slowly and slowly losing their significance and power. Magic is not stagnant like the dwarves, but vibrant and always changing. The dwarven hold on their awesome power is loosening, the deca-annual offerings to the old gods having ceased millennial ago, a new era of change is coming to the dwarves. To either adapt and live, or to stay and risk the right of death may be the fatal choice... But history has not been written, and the courageous Ulfar is just the one to write it.



Herger "Long-Gauntlet" Gorinsnev, the most cut-throat dwarf you would never like to meet under the mountain. Once a rich merchant, enjoying the love of women and the exotics of the outside lands, he went to far one day though, and enjoyed too much... Dwarven merchants are the epitome of Dwarven greediness, but they too have their limits. Trading with enemies, lying and stealing, and even killing to get his way is the par of the course... But generally, insulting a dwarven lord is quite dangerous. His riches allowed him not to be executed, but he was kicked out of his guild, and was ruthlessly tracked by a few noble guardsmen and inquisitors. He has found himself in Kurgan's protection, but he rues it, preferring to be on his lonesome. He is an excellent scout, and quick to wit. He does not like to tally, and thus he is a good tracker for the group.



Yori "Frost-Beard" is an experienced veteran and a respected soldier. Quite possibly the most capable in a battle in Kurgan's band, he had been offered the position of Vanguar numerous amounts of times. He refused generally, preferring not to venture out of the mountains.. The one thing he mostly fears is the outside, thus he has spent most of his time as a guardsman. Not a luxurious life, he has learned a variety of secrets and obscurities, ones which almost shook him to his very core. He only speaks if asked, and tries not to obstruct the other dwarves' fun. Despite his hard exterior, he has his moments of caring, and will never leave a fellow dwarf behind.



Eirkson, son of Eirk is a gnome serf. He is bound to his master, like all gnomes in the Empire, he has no lands of his own an can't even claim a last name. Most gnomes have taken naming their sons after themselves, this only last for a generation however, before a new name is given to their sons. He is a good buglar, able to be quick and quiet, unlike the stumpy dwarves. Gnomish serfs are not liked, and teased generally. This makes gnomes either the most cynical, or the most quiet, but they always make good friends, for they do not always have friends themselves. A life of a serf is not a good one, ever. They are worked until they die, and their sons take up their mantle as slaves, having a caste of their own if ever a dwarf is found in this strata of life he might as well kill himself for his line will forever be forsaken. Despite this Eirkson likes the simple things in life, and his master Kurgan treats him as more of a equal then most.

Wait does that mean my character in the balancing thread doesn't count?

The main plane of existence is, of course, this world, and is the location where most will spend their entire life until they die, ignoring a few rare exceptions. There are planes beyond this world though, and the main one is known to the elves as the Beyond, a realm where living beings go once their spirit leaves their body after death, though it is said that eventually their spirits will continue past the Beyond, or when they dream. It is also believed that this is where mages draw the power to cast their spells from, or at least such is the case for elven mages. While most people do not remember their time dreaming in the Beyond, mages are able to, remaining “conscious” when they travel there.

The Beyond is separated from the world by a barrier which neither spirits nor mortals can easily pass through physically. This barrier is usually found to be weaker in places that have experienced extensive death or magic use, such as battlefields. This is believed to be due to spirits being attracted to death and pressing against the barrier, weakening it. In the past mages have used magic to physically breach the barrier and allow demons and spirits to pass through into the physical world. For example, there are some spots on the Soler’aan Coast that are home to ancient battles, and the bloodshed and magic used weakened the barrier beyond repair, allowing spirits and demons to cross over from the Beyond.

Given how few have entered the Beyond physically no one can say for certain what is looks like in its true form, but it is clear that it can be shaped by a dreamer’s thoughts and beliefs. Much of the Beyond is split up into fiefs or demesnes belonging to the spirits or demons that live there, and they change the landscape of the Beyond to emulate what they see in the minds of mortal dreamers. They copy locations, objects, people and concepts of the real world, confusing ways. These copies are nowhere near consistent, and fluctuate according to the movement of the dreamers. Spirits whose realms are flocked with visitors rise to rule great portions of the Beyond, while memories and concepts forgotten in the real world slowly drift away back into the ether, the spirits who ruled them losing all potency.

Of course, despite being the most popular, there are more planes than just the Beyond. It is believed that each of the gods both the benevolent and malevolent has a plane of their own, shaped and controlled by their whims and each with a specific name. These realms are said to be accessible only by the direct invitation of a god, though given the ability to reach the Beyond without an invitation it is unclear if that is true.

((If any elf players have problems with the lore established here let me known, obviously any other races can choose to ignore or twist this as they please. If you couldn't tell this is largely based on the Fade from Dragon Age, so for example, you could just say that your people don't dream of the fade or go there when they die, like the dwarves in DA.))

The razor sharp beak of the great bird slashed downward with a mighty thrust, tearing the flesh in a grim display of blood and gore. It's prey's screams long since silenced, the winged hunter took its time as it stripped the meat from the bone. The yellow, slotted eyes of the predator suddenly broke from the meal before it, darting around the desert surroundings. A high pitched whistle tore through the air as an arrow sunk into the belly of the horror. With a squawk, the beast launched up into the air with thrust of its great wings. Another arrow ripped through the air, but missed its mark as the bird screeched curses, making good its escape.

From behind a boulder, a large Orc emerged, his hair tied back in long braids, a leather jerkin covering his ripped chest. Behind him came a female, her hair black at the root but turning blood red and semi-hidden under a leather hood, a bow in her hand. An older Orc followed, tall and bald, with silver whiskers. Behind them came ten Orcs, all in tattered leathers and bent backs. They gave cursory looks up to the desert sun, their mortal enemy they lacked the power to fight.

"You missed your mark." Gloated the old one to the female.

"Gorm!" Barked the female. "Sun was in my eyes. How bout I practice on you next time, Jup."

Jup gave a guttural laugh. "You are welcome to try, Harclaw."

"Silence." Said the leader, stone faced as he examined what was left of the bird's meal.

"I guess we found our scout." Jup said silently.

The leader frowned. What remained of the Orc left little to identify, save for the black patch roughly stitched in his leathers, the mark of Stryke's Band.

"So what now, Captain?" Asked Harclaw.

"Yeah, Styrke. What the Gorm do we do now?" Echoed Jup.

Stryke kept his eyes on the dead Orc. He was an Ash'tar. One of the last of a proud people, and now he was dead. A horrible fate to die at one of the many horrors this desert had to offer. His band now numbered thirteen, and with each passing day, their numbers seemed to dwindle more. "I'll tell you," Stryke began. "I am sick of walking this desert, waiting to die."

"You mean..." Started Harclaw.

"That's right, Lieutenant. We do things your way now."

"You can't be serious?!" Protested Jup.

The rage of having lost another of his troop boiled over in Stryke, and he found a worthy vent in the old Orc. "I am serious, Arms Master! You have a better idea, one that extends beyond that sunken maggot-hole belly?!" The old Orc seethed, but said nothing. Stryke took a breath, turning to Harclaw. "Take point, Lieutenant."

Harclaw gave a passing smile to Jup. "Aye, Captain."

((Stryke's Band... Jup... Half-Breed cruel Tyrant queen... Have you by any chance read 'Orcs' by Stan Nicholls, Bishop? ))

The Primal Forces

By: Zethran Tarkhasis

In nature there are many forces. The greatest of these forces are the Primal Forces, ancient immortal primordial spirits. Unlike other nature spirits, these can somehow interact with the world, mostly by inhabiting or controlling animals, plants or rocks. Those able to interact with these Primal Forces tend to bond with one Primal Force in particular.

Only the most primitive sentient beings seem able to bond to these forces, because the more civilized a race becomes, the more alien the primal forces will be. The few who actually can do so mostly describe it as whispering or speaking, and by doing this they can ask the Primal Forces to aid them.

Most practitioners of this type of spirit manipulation are found in remote and quite untamed areas, such as for instance Yalendo.

Time for the DG and GS approved lore post:

Elves and The religion of Silvyar
Although to many the Elves are a strange race who few would believe follow religious views, this is in fact untrue, in fact the beings the Elves worship are one of the more tangible of the gods worshipped by the people of this land. It is said that those who are in desperate need or as rewards for great dead’s may be bestowed boons or given gifts by these Gods, in fact it is said that the Empire was originally formed when each of the gods gave up a prized artefacts to the champions of the elves. The elven Religion is called Silvyar which means true path or Old Rulers in elvish. As part of the rituals each God has their own Temple in every city except for Asur the King of the Gods whose temple sits in the capital, it is said that every elf king, mage or member of the vaunted Dragon Guards must pass through the eternal flame of Asur that burns in the temple, to fail means rejection by the gods and risks ruin upon the Empire.
The elves believe there are Seven Gods they are as Follows.
Asur, King Of the Gods and lord Of Flame:

The King of the gods and lord of fire, he is worshipped among the elves more than any other of the 7 gods, It is said that it was he who gave the lands the elves rule to them and light the eternal flame that burns forever in his temple. Infact the Dragon Guards was formed from the Best warriors of the Elves solely to protect his shrine and the Emperor, since then the order has expanded to form the Elite of the Elven Armies, battling in with armour similar to that of Asur and mighty Halberds. Asur is the God of Fire, representing its benevolent power and benefits that it brings to society such as smithing and warmth, while also representing the Violent and destructive nature of the fire, it is said to anger Asur is nearly worse than angering to god of war. The Elves believe that each god has a part of his spirit in an animal, and for Asur it is the mightiest of Beasts, the Dragon, it is believed that only because of the spark of Asur's spirit in these beasts are the elves permitted to ride such great beasts.

Ardreth, lord of the water:

Ardreth is the opposite in personality to that of Asur, being temperamental and prone to mood swings, as the winds of the seas are oft to do. It is said the after Asur breathed life into the land and Elves, Ardreth made boats out of sea foam to carry the elves to the shores. Ardreth also represents plenty, as the sea has often been the lifeblood of the elves and why they have lived on the coast for a great deal of their history, as such every year sacrifices are made to Ardreth to thank for the previous year and hope for a new bountiful harvest. His animal is the Hippocampus

Siirist, Queen of the Air

The queen to Asur, she represents, purity, peace and serenity, it is the ideals of Siirist that the elves follow in tending for the landscape and being one with nature. Siirist is against starting unjust conflicts but as the wind can be slow to rise, it is deadly when at full strength, and in the elves follow, being slow to declare war, but furious in their might when such an event does happen. She also doubles as the goddess of exploration as it is the wind that carries boats and birds far and wide into the world. The Animal that represents Siirist is the Great Eagle.

Flinar, Master of the Earth.


He is the master of earth and all the land, believed by the elves to have forged the lands before Asur breathed life into it, he is worshipped as the creator god, not only of land and sea but also as a smith and Architect beyond belief, it is said that the Great WhiteSpire Tower of the Soler'aan Coast was forged by him as a symbol of the very place the Gods of the Elves first walked apon the land. He also represents the virtues of tenacity and endurance. His sacred creature is the Chimera as it represents creation. it is said he forged the crown of the Emperor.

Rhys, Marshall of the Gods,

Believed by the Elves to be the Strongest being in existence, only possibly outmatched by Asur himself, Rhys represents the Harsh, Violent side of elves and it is he that the elves turn to when faced with war, as he has been known to bestow powerful boons upon those who seak his aid, however this is not done lightly as the power of the god can not be controlled by most earthbound folk and those who dabble with him risk madness. It was he that bestowed the elves with the great elven Sword "Navarre (lightning) and Bow "Almar" (fires breath). His sacred animal is the Gorgon also known as hell hounds, they are fiery wolfs that can take down even the largest ogre with minimal effort, it is said Rhys war chariot is pulled by 5 of these great beasts.

Caeda, Protectress of Magic,

The goddess of mages, it is she that protects all mages from the dangers of magic and allows the elves to have cast some of the most powerful spells of all time. She is also seen as a mix between mix between Flinar and Siirist caring for the natural magic and beauty of the world while still creating great artificial wonders of magic. It is said that she rides in a chariot of moonlight and is the most willing of the gods to meddle in earthbound affairs. Her Creature is the Griffon

(Part 2 coming soon)

last part:
Vamir, The Ruler of Death,

Vamir is the lord of Death, and he is the closest thing that the elves have to a Devil, although not inherently evil, as elves tend to live for very long periods of time his domain is quite small and he always hungers for more souls for his castles. As such he will occasionally prey on the weak-minded or older elves driving them insane with his whispers and false promises. However he can still help the elves if the trade of is better for him, as any who die on elvish lands join his kingdom, as shown during the Siege of Tarathiel in which 10,000 goblins were struck down by one of the worst plagues the world has ever seen. Leaving the original 50 Elvish defenders speechless and leading to the forming of the cult of Vamir a group of Extremely skilled assassins who are well versed in all the ways of death. Instead of having one animal Vamir has three demons. they are the, Lamia, snake demons who prey on children, Empousai, female demons who seduce males and the 3 Furies who spread Misery through the land and are his right hand women. Another of his pets are the harpies who act as his heralds and messengers.
- lamia (the common rememblance to the serpentine has lead many elves to believe that they are infact Lamia or servants of Vamir, leading many to fear them or seek their destruction)
- emphousai
- the three furies
- a harpy

Tapscott said:

((Stryke's Band... Jup... Half-Breed cruel Tyrant queen... Have you by any chance read 'Orcs' by Stan Nicholls, Bishop? ))

Click to expand...

((lol Yup! That book has totally reinforced my love for all things Orc!))

The Dwarves of Orum(what they call the continent) are one of the most ancient races on the planet, their histories going back to ages when the gods walked among them, to when they commenced in legendary battles between good and evil. Dwarves themselves have never found a sturdy side, preferring to dig deeper into their holes rather then fight on ideology. For his, they are hated by all, and that hate is largely returned. They have distinct histories with each race that is in contact with them, that comes from centuries of xenophobia and a certain element of dwarven behavior that allows them to see the world as apart of them, and these nasty invaders are nothing but occupants on their otherwise peaceful realm.

This record establishes what dwarven loremasters confirm as the truth, and while any dwarf may have an opinion of his own, the state firmly backs these statements and follows them with an iron will.

Elves: tall, lanky, and arrogant bastards that are not to be trusted under any accordance. Any measly alliance that may come out of need is not to be held in firm regard, and these creatures are not to be regarded as anything then back-stabbing, terrible traitors! Centuries of war and distrust have led to this fact. Any trade with elves is to only be in Prisoners of War, and they are to be firmly ejected from any and all dwarven-controlled cities. Our most ancient and sacred enemy, an elf is no friend of any dwarf, under any circumstance.

Skritt: The vermin were all but destroyed, once. They had infested dwarven colonies and had almost worked their way to Dawin, until Grand-Guardian Darin purged the menace. What little left of their race was destroyed, and any crude paintings left scratched into the walls were replaced and painted over. Recent reports have noted their return, and any dwarf that comes to contact with them is advised to be cautious and prudent of their cunning nature. If they are captured, execution or enslavement is allowed and advised. They are no threat towards the empire.

Goblins: Greedy and conceiving, these creatures used to embargo all trade and rule the south, as it is told. They are treated as an sub-race of orcs, which are an sub-race of ogre. They are stinted and terrible at combat, their trade monopolies have collapsed some time ago, and their kind is now scattered all across the wastes they call home. Incursions in the land are ill-advised, however, any threat they pose should and shall be extinguished quickly if they bridge Dwarven mountains too closely.

Orcs: Barbarious, idiotic, fumbling creatures that adopt a crude tongue and it is a wonder how they are still in existence. These creatures seem to boast some type of ego-complex, coming from studies upon their culture, they do not tend to have very long debates for an battle occurs. In large numbers are extremely dangerous, and any unified "state" should be pacified not with war but simply demands of tribute. Worthy advisories, perhaps, if and social architecture develops.

Satyr/Minotaur/Centaur: Migratory beasts... To not be treated with any civility, and dispatched quickly if they present any harm to the Empire. Relations are only to be engaged in extreme circumstances, and only then, if the situation suits the position. Not worthy pets, and will likely conform against any type of serfdom established upon them... Satyrs domestication possible, but only if cattled correctly. Opportunity is possible in manipulation, for their minds are stumped and equal of that of a mule.

Humans: Lost race, seeking, traveling. They are not to be killed on sight, but their whereabouts are unknown, and so is their legacy. Perhaps some form of pity is suited, but not that might endanger the Empire, and they shall only step foot underground if: a serf, or, if they are permitted to do so by the local governor/mayor. Even so, they are to be treated with a slight distrust and their words are not to be taken entirely seriously.

The handy book known as "Aerion's Guide to the Unknown, and Known, too." is a handy vessel that a dwarfish expedition or even small band may use to decipher certain situations in which they might come across. Though secrecy and aloofness is always advised, many of these descriptions are outdated. The crumbling state of the Empire, and their loss of control over many of the Dwarven people, mean that most of the population does not follow these accords and since contact has been fragmented much of the history needs to be rectified or at least, changed. This list is simply dealing with immediate neighbors of the dwarves, and does not concern direct history of the dwarves.

Faith pulled out a locket. The locket was small, rectangular, and made of gold, with an image of a Wargen's eye and a scar where the other eye should be. Inside the locket was an inscription written in a beautiful, but forgotten, language. The inscription read "Strength through Loyalty", the motto of the Bane family.

The one thing he never understood, though, was how this locket was supposed to be so important in his life.

---

One of the earliest memories he had was when he was maybe two years old. At a fire in an abandoned cottage, his mother was feeding him some meat that she had stolen from the market. While feeding him, Faith's mother was talking to him.

"Oh, my little pup! If only your father could see you now. How proud would he be to see his own son thriving!"

At this point, Faith's mother has a slightly twisted, cruel look on her face, as if she knows she couldn't resist doing so in the safety of the cottage.

"But, I am sure that you, my little furball, will make him even prouder by avenging him. Show his killers what it means to screw with us."

After speaking the last sentence, Mother reverts back to a more cheerful expression.

---

Two years later, Faith was in the same cottage, apparently getting ready to go to some fine gala with his mother making constant adjustments.

"Faith, stop messing with the frills! And don't claw at your neck or else you'll rip up the fabric!"

Faith asks, "Why must I wear this itchy clothing, Mother? It's not like I'm some hairless human."

"Hush, child. We're going somewhere very special today and I want to make us look special. This is the right way to do it."

"Fine. But what about my red eyes?"

Faith had good reason to worry about his natural, red eyes. Within Wargen society, natural red eyes are signs of ill omen, and that superstition leads to social isolation, getting beat up or even killed.

"Faith, we are going to a place where wargen cannot do harm to you. Not without facing grave consequences. Now where is that locket?"

Faith looked at his mother with curiosity. What locket? He's never heard of her keeping jewelry or other shiny objects. They were wretched and poor, and sold most stuff they came across and especially if it was gold. Mother searched the house, ravaging every last shelf, nook, and cranny she could get her hands on until, finally, she found the locket. She then approached Faith with the locket in hand.

"Faith, hold still."

Mother put the locket around Faith's neck. Faith took a look at the locket, the same one he has today.

"Take a look at what is inside," Mother said.

She took the locket and opened it up for Faith and pointed at the inscription inside. Faith looked at it and noticed the smooth curves and flowing movement. But, for all his young self could care, Faith could not read it and had to ask Mother for help.

"Mother, what is inside this locket?"

"Faith, it reads something like 'Strength Through Loyalty'. But enough dawdling around, we are ready to go."

Mother took Faith's hand and went out of the cottage. From their cottage, they walked towards the district where a sort of "middle class" lives, if you will. It was certainly nicer than the slums that Faith lived in at the time, but not as lavish or outrageous as districts where the Alphas lived. Still, Faith took in all of the parks, shops, and other sights. Eventually, Faith and his mother arrived at an estate. On the front gate as an image, the same one that was on Faith's locket. Mother approached one of the guards at the front. The guard turns to Mother.

"Lady, what is it that you require?" the guard asks.

"I ask for an audience with the head of the house. It is an urgent matter," Mother responded.

"May I ask what your business is?" the guard inquired, with a curious expression barely on his face.

"It is all detailed in this letter right here."

Mother pulled out the letter from her pocket. The guard took it and examined it. As he glanced at the seal, he noticed something peculiar. Faith never knew what that was, but whatever it was, the guard seemed to be shocked at its appearance on the letter.

"Right this way," the guard said in a neutral tone.

He opened the gate for Faith and his mother. Mother took Faith's hand and sped off to the house. She knocked on the front door and was greeted by a butler.

"Good morning. I assume you have business with Master Bane?" the butler asked.

"Very urgent business," Mother responded.

"I shall see to it that Master Bane will be here as soon as I possibly can. Come inside."

Faith and his mother were lead inside the house, and Faith was in awe at the interior.

It certainly wasn't the abandoned cottage that Faith lived in. Flooring that was actually something besides straw thrown on the floor, a few paintings and portraits on the wall, and suits of armor occasionally lining the halls. The main foyer had a single staircase in a rectangular shape, simple columns neatly spaced on the walls, a fur rug on the floor, a fireplace, and a modest lounging area around the fireplace.

You get the idea; the Bane Estate was certainly more elegant and higher quality than an abandoned cottage, and Faith would imprint that image in his head. As Faith looks around the foyer, he catches a figure coming down the staircase: The Head of the Bane Family, Arther Bane.

Arther Bane is a jovial fellow and typically greets everybody with a smile. Today, however, it seems that Arther was a little stressed. There was no smile on his face; a rather grim expression on his face was to be seen. Anybody else who was there would tell you that there must be something wrong. Arther must have known that his visitor had grim or saddening news.

"Severa? Is that you?" Arther asked.

"Yes, it is," Mother responded. "Now, let's go somewhere more private so we can have a ... nice chat for a moment. Faith, you stay there, and don't you dare go wandering off on me this time."

Faith, like a good little pup, stood there and waited. This only lasted a few moments as his eyes wandered off, gazing at one of the paintings while moving closer to it. It was a picture of a handsome Wargen, in a very regal pose. Yet there is a hint of mischief in his eyes, suggesting something other than elegance.

As Faith looked at the painting, three other pups, two male, one female, and all around the same age, run past Faith and end up pushing him down.

"Hey!" he cried out, but his cry only received laughter from the other pups.

Getting up and looking around, he made sure that Mother was not in the same room. After confirming she was gone, Faith ran off after the pups that rudely shoved him to the floor. He eventually made his way to a hallway that wasn't as bright as the other rooms of the estate. Faith stopped to catch his breath for a moment, and laid down on the floor.

Looking up, however, he only had moments to relax before his vision ended up becoming covered by clothing and fur. That's right, the cheeky pups jumped Faith. He kicked, jumped, and wriggled in order to get out of the pile. Once he did, he heard laugh again and run off.

With annoyance and anger in his voice, Faith shouted, "I'll get you!"

He ran and ran, trying to catch up with the clever pups that had ambushed him. Faith was going to give them what they deserved. As he ran across the foyer, however, he felt a paw, grasping at the clothing on the back on his neck. Turned around, he could see his mother and Arther standing right in front of him.

"Faith, what did I tell you?" Mother questioned, with sweetness in her voice that was concealing anger.

"I ... I uh --"

"Severa, relax," Arther said. "Little Faith here was getting acquainted with his cousins."

"Wait, what?" all of the pups asked at the same time.

"Is that why Mommy told us to leave her alone earlier?" the little girl asked.

"Mist," one of the boys said, "don't be silly. Daddy said Mommy wouldn't have the child yet."

"It's not like that, my precious pups, "Arther sweetly responded to his pups. "Faith here is not Mommy's pup, but he still related, which is why he is a cousin. You see, this lady besides me brought Faith to my attention and pointed out some good ... reasons why I should take him in as my own pup."

Arther sounded defeated, as if he had no other choice but to take in Faith as his own pup.

In a slightly cheerier voice, Arther told Faith, "I want you to meet your new family. I'm Uncle Arther."

Pointing to a smiling, pregnant Wargen, Arther explained, "That is Aunt Holly."

Arther then pointed to the little girl and told Faith, "That is cousin Mist."

Next, Arther pointed to the slightly taller of the two boys with black fur and explained, "That is your cousin Colton."

Finally, he pointed at the shorter boy with gray fur, "And that is your cousin Will. Welcome to the family."

With a worried look on his face, Faith asks, "What about Mother?"

"Ah, yes," Arther said with a pained voice. "Your mother will be staying here with you and help take care of you."

Ever since that day when he became a Bane, it seems that Faith's life was defined by his locket as well as his red eyes. Whether or not his life was cursed, Faith could not tell.

The Skritt, or Ratfolk as they are colloquially known as, are a race that is poorly understood. In the eyes of their most immediate neighbours, the Dwarves, the Skritt are little better than intelligent vermin, and are attacked on sight. This hatred of the Skritt goes far beyond the borders of the Empire of Stone, and the Vern Mountains, and out into the wider world. While the Skritt are not as loathed as much by other races as they are as the Dwarves, they are generally regarded as a nuisance, that is dealt with swiftly and harshly whenever certain sensibilities have been offended.

What I have managed to piece together about the Skritt and their way of life does not shed as much light on their existence as I would like, but what I have discovered paints a rather unseemly picture of a race firmly on the bottom of the world’s racial hierarchy. The Skritt, even in their homelands, struggle to survive and the greatest of their Warlords are little better than bandits when it comes to troubling outsiders, easily repulsed and dealt with a moderately armed band of men-at-arms.

The greatest of the current Skritt leaders, as I have been able to uncover thanks to my friends in the numerous Academies within the Empire of Stone, is a creature called Skratt. According to my peers, Skratt is little more than a glory-hungry assassin who has managed to cheat, lie and murder his way to the top of a Ratfolk tribe, or ‘Under-Empire’ as they are fond of referring to themselves. (It is worth noting that although the Skritt label their tribes as ‘Under-Empires’, no Skritt has lived underground in centuries, and certainly no one tribe has consolidated its power enough to truly earn the right to call itself an empire. At the time of writing, to give one’s self perspective, there exist no less than twenty eight Under-Empires of the Ratfolk.)

Despite all the time and effort I have put into this treatise on the creatures known as the Skritt, I find myself no closer to understanding what drove these creatures to the surface. Prior to their coming above ground, the Skritt seemed to have been a fairly cohesive and dangerous entity, fighting the Empire of Stone on even terms for sole control of the Vern Mountains. At some unknown point in the past though the great underground warrens of the Skritt were devastated and their populations decimated. The accounts from the Skritt vary, with some blaming a plague, some a horror from the Beyond, and others placing the blame squarely at the Dwarves. The Dwarves, for their part, seem to have no idea what happened to the Skritt, as they sent armies to capture cities that they found empty and lifeless. Some records of the Dwarves, however, state that Grand-Guardian Darin, a great hero of Dwarvenkind, was instrumental in the extermination of the Ratfolk. Whether this entirely accurate, or is only part of the truth, I cannot say. Whatever happened deep beneath the roots of the Vern Mountains, where Sunlight never reaches, destroyed the Skritt as a unified entity and forced them up to the surface, where they struggle to merely survive.

I believe if the Skritt were to ever unify, were to regain their cohesion as a single race, then the Empire of Stone would find itself in mortal peril. The last Mountain Wars, as the ancient conflicts between the Skritt and the Dwarves are known as, left the Dwarven nation weakened and battle-weary. I fear that another confrontation could leave it decimated.

It is with some relief in my heart, however, that I must note that the prospect of the Skritt unifying is unlikely. It has been centuries since the Skritt came to the surface and no single warlord has ever unified all the tribes into a single entity during that time. The Ratfolk are divided, and weak, and if the Gods are good, they will stay that way until the End of Days.

Roles in the Pheonician Tribe​

Another unique feature to the Pheonicians compared to other Centaur tribes is that is a matriarchal tribe, the priestesses often refer to the male Centaurs as their thralls, as they do anything that is bid of them. They are the main gatherers of resources as well and the tribes frontline in battle and they care for the children from birth till adulthood.



Physically the male centaurs are faster than the female ones, this really helps them in the hunt for their food, which in these parts of Doth tends to be gazelle and deer which have evolved themselves over the course of time to adapt to the speed of the Centaurs, though they are still no match for the best hunters. However the Pheonicians are omnivores, eating meat as well as vegetables, which generally they have more of than anything else. They cultivated a small part of the Doth Plains with the most common vegetable edible to Centaur only, the Ramip, a rooted vegetable.

Though the foals are born by the female Centaurs the men take care of them throughout their lives (from birth till the age of thirty), there is an exception to this with the female children of the tribe, they are sent to the temples at the age of twenty to be guided to priesthood.

The female Pheonicians are in the role of leading the tribe, as well as following the path of the Pheonix and keeping the faith and tribe safe. Of every female atleast one child is expected, the females may chose their mates themselves, more often than not there are only a few males which are fit enough to mate with.

The females are also the only ones allowed to lead the tribes forces and are the only ones which can possess the power of magic within the tribe. Their magic can have a range of different abilities, some are taught or born with the power of healing, some with the flames of the Pheonix, others with the winds of the Wings, there are also other arts of magic which are less frequently present though still present within the tribe.

The elite fighters of the tribe, the Beak's Fighters are veterans and experts in the field of combat and more often than not lead the tribes forces. As Centaurs have a distinct advantage to other races in the fields of speed the Beaks take advantage of this. The Beaks also divide themselves in groups, there is the vanguard Beaks with their heavy armor and spears, generally, together with the other Centaur troops they form wedge formations to overrun the enemy, this is however not true when fighting other Centaur, where they go in a straight line for a more effective attack. The other division is the Beaks Arrows, masters of archery whilst galloping through the battlefield, they are often feared by the enemy as there is no escaping them though they themselves are masters of the escape.


The Keepers are the elite mages and keepers of the knowledges. Together with the Matriarch they make decisions over the tribes doings, though the Matriarch could chose the tribes faith herself more often than not the Keepers (Council of the Feathers) are asked to decide on matters together.

Amarthelon was walking through the woods one day, he was just looking around just having a gaze at several plants and ruins left over from the once prosperous empire. That was until he saw a rose shining in a distance though it wasn't shining by itself, the shine came from a light that shined through the roof of the forest. The rose gave Amarthelon awe as he was amazed of the combination of light and darkness as if nature created this life as its own work of art, so Amarthelon walked closer and closer to the flower as he reached for it ever so gently making sure he wouldn't dare bruise the flowers beauty as he went to pick it up. When his finger began to touch the stem of the flower his index finger was pricked by one of it thorns, as the shock of pain made him flinch something started to happen to him. Images of a certain being started to appear in his head it near driven him to madness, if it hadn't cast a protection spell from it damaging his mind. The images began to stop and Amarthelon was able to think clearly again, but just as he though the madness to have stopped he saw a figure in front of him. It was a Elven woman dressed in black robes and she was weeping, Amarthelon wondered where this woman came from and why she was crying. He approached the woman and asked her if she was ok, though when he saw her face as she turned around he couldn't believe what he saw. A beauty that surpasses even the Elven princess of the Empire, though the woman explained to Amarthelon on why she had appeared before him crying. Is that she was imprisoned in that rose for many many years and she was delighted that someone such as him a man of magic released her from her prison, though Amarthelon asked why she was imprisoned for so long and she told him that she was imprisoned for spreading heresy, saying that the Elven gods were nothing but toothless dogs that couldn't do anything to save the Empire from falling. Amarthelon was shocked because as long as he lived he's never heard of this event so he thought she may of been one of the ancient ones of old.

Amarthelon grabbed the woman's hand and bent a knee to her, he vowed to protect her from any danger and spread her influence through out the land. He asked of her name and she said slowly. "Mormerilon" Amarthelon was fascinated about the name but what he didn't know is that she tricked him, she was a demon only bent on controlling the Elven world and she only needed one Elven male whom is blessed with magic to release her from her flowery prison. Though in an ironic way she even felt a slight affection for the man, though she wasn't going to put her plans on hold just for one miserable soul so she told Amarthelon everything about her religion and how it would change the world that they now live in and how many other religious factions are starting to rise up through the world. She called her religion the Black Rose, for an hour she told Amarthelon of what rules and regulations her religion goes by.

Religion of the Black Rose:
*All who are faithful to her mighty and beautiful Mormerilon shall kill any heresy, and convert those whom have been fooled by the old gods.
*A Black rose must be upon every faithful member of the Black Rose
*Anyone who betrays the Black Rose will be exterminated
*Churches must be built to keep the religion alive

After discussing all of that to Amarthelon, the two move out to begin Mormerilons plans for domination in the coast.

((Broke, may I request that the list of player stats be updated with their current position and class and race please.))

((New elf lore post up soon))

((Also when are orders due))

iisbroke said:

I'm Shutting Off Sign-ups

Sorry but there are so many of you anymore and I will lose my mind trying to manage you all. Thanks for joining by the way.



Orders are due by December 6 make sure they are n more than two lines per order.

Click to expand...

6th as he posted earlier...