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 Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 9:33 pm
As Daylight Dies
In the beginning, The Kingdom united all that was in the land of Shrin. It united the southern fishing villages at the end of the peninsula, crushing any resistance. It united the middle-land farming communities, crushing any resistance. It united its own northern mountains, again crushing resistance. It even went so far as to crusade against the eastern and western islands, and ,though it never officially gained complete control, it is believed that they held most of the isles.
The only castle in this mighty land was aptly named Krieg Radu Palace, or translated from the native elves' tongue: "Terrible White Castle". The elves long ago built the castle, only to abandon it, for their corrupted ruler cursed the castle with a daemon's gate. It was only after Lord Amusi entered said gate and destroyed it that the castle was occupied again, only this time by The Kingdom, Lord Amusi being its King.
He conquered all previously mentioned, and then he died, an assassin the murderer. The assassin was never caught, and it is thought that he still works for the Assassin's Guild that populates every town in The Kingdom... a sercret of course. Now, Lord Amusi was never married, but it is believed he fathered an illegitimate child with Ziah, a woman warrior elf local to Krieg Radu Palace and it's city, though she ran off into the surrounding forested mountain-side... and trying to find an elf in a forest (especially one not wanting to be found) is a near impossible feat for even an army of humans.
This is how it breaks down: no known heir, three generals and an advisor all power hungry, an assassin guild that is turning on its self, and, as if it wasn't bad enough, a resistance in the southern port cities doesn't equal good things in The Kingdom. The secret, ancient dwarven kingdom has long abandoned the outside world, but lately messengers have been sent to The Kingdom, demanding that Krieg Radu Palace and the cities in the mountains be given to them, the elves demand much the same. Both have agreed to talk about the relations, but nothing is to be promised.
Upon the mountainous problems The Kingdom is facing, one more is surfacing. They have lost contact with the crusaders. No one knows what will happen to this once great feat in civilization, but one thing is certain... The brilliant daylight The Kingdom once represented is dying.
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 10:03 pm
Be Forewarned
These are the rules and you must follow them.
1. You can jump right in!
I thought this over and decided, although it will probably kill the role play, it will be an easy way to do things. Not that I'm lazy... well, I am lazy, but I just want to see how a freelance role play will work out.
2. No magic please!
Magic will come, don't worry you will receive it, but not at the beginning! To continue on the topic, don't go Superman meets T-Rex meets Jesus with your magic. If you didn't understand that, it simply means don't use magic like breathing! Magic is a difficult to do and if I catch people doing insane things with their abilities I will kick you out of here so fast it will be five minutes before you post!
3. You may be the races I specify!
In a later post you will see what I mean...
4. No Guns!
This is a medieval (well... kinda...) role play and I prohibit guns! crossbows and ablests are fine though.
5. Please don't be somebody important.
I would like to see you make a character that has practically no life. Trust me, if you join you will become important in the story! I'll see to that.
6. If you have any complaints, please PM me.
I will help you anyway I can, whether it be writers block or another role player.
7. I am the guy who runs the show here.
Only if the god of you choice makes a Gaia account and says something are you to listen to him. Here is the catch, I am the god of your choice! I am any god out there and any god you make up off the top (or bottom) of your head! I am always right! You are wrong when I say so, because I run this show!
8. Keep an eye on my posts, for the plot will develop along with them.
My posts are important. Yours are too, just not near as much so as mine. I will be the one advancing the plot while you advance the story. I might even join in on the story part if I see this goes well.
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 10:28 pm
A Tourist's View
The races are as follows:
Human: (50-65 years)
Human's are a durable race, and differ indefinately because of that. They have populated the world, but now the most advanced reside in The Kingdom. Many different humans come from the north, though they are considered barbarians and frowned upon for their typically violent natures. From the islands come the poorer humans, typically pitied for their tribal style of living. The rest of the humans live fairly modest lives, though their government never seems to cater them. Their government is one of order, a leader, The Lord, and his three generals. The generals are as follows: the General of Offense, the General of Defense, and the General of Public Order.
Elf: (250-300 years)
Elves have been known to live wildly around The Kingdom, though they are rarely seen and even fewer have ever spoken to one. They are usually human sized, though some come of shorter stature, and have fair skin to a deep tan. Blonde and black hair stand out mostly. Their government is one of the people, where the people decide who is to represent their needs. They often hold commities were all may speak (for elves number perhaps in the thousands, while humans in the ten-thousands).
Dwarf: (100-250 years) (varies because of dangerous living enviroment)
Dwarves have never been seen in The Kingdom until now and only in the mountains. They are generally much shorter than humans. They have large beards and are either balding or have a full head of hair. They are very muscular, whether male or female. Their skin is either pale or lightly tanned. The government of dwarves is ruled by one dwarf, the Tzar. He tells his people what they need and all follow him without doubt. They are a very industrious people, great with machines and metal. Imagine being in the industrial revolution, though no guns yet.
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 10:36 pm
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 10:58 pm
Joska
The panting figure of the Hand of the Kingdom ran through the tropical covered island, ferns smashing his helm as he trampled anything in his path. The fort had fallen. The fort on the eastern island of Beryl had fallen to the...
Without warning, the knight tripped and fell on his face, but that didn't stop him. He continued running after he hopped up, quick as a rabbit despite his heavy armour. He had run so far away that his breath didn't work. He gained no air in his lungs as he ran, but that didn't stop him. His legs ran, a motion that seemed like breathing now, carrying him far away from the fort and even farther from his fallen comrades.
He reached the beach. The figure finally could stop. He slumped against a nearby palm and removed his helm to wipe sweat from his brow. Swallowing air in a furious attempt to gain back his endurence, the man noticed a slip of parchment fall from his guantlets. He picked it up and unfolded it, his breathing becoming more even. It was a picture of his bride-to-be. She was in the city that surrounded Krieg Radu Palace, and she was waiting for him. He wouldn't be back, he realized that now.
A rumaging noise came from behind in the forest, the monsters that had taken the fort were now after the only man left on the island... and Joska laid his helm back on his head and stood, going down fighting as all of The Hand would do. For they were the elites, and they were also gone that night...
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 11:36 pm
Gregor
The rouge of the resistance sat in the branch of the oak, bow and arrow at the ready. The city of Sancrist had been under siege for two days, though it was more of a waiting. The resistance merely sat at their doorstep and killed all who opposed. A few times the had caught some gaurds and did nothing less of torture. This didn't amuse Gregor, but it greatly passed Rufus's time. Gregor shuddered, then looked to Rufus, who sat in a tree opposite him.
The man chewed on his curved daggar as if it offered nourishment of some kind as he stared with wide eyes at Sancrist, crazed. The man was a murderous loon, but the resistance needed him. He was a shrewd tactician. Rufus had been rumored to be the assassin that killed the king, but Gregor didn't think that possible. The man would never have made it to the king's quarters if he worked in the same frenzied way h did for the resistance... Gregor just looked back at the town, the third town the resistance would need. The other two ports had been back east, and now once they captured Sancrist the navy would practically belong to the resistance, making the waters theirs.
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 11:55 pm
Ubtreas
The assassin's guild was in an uproar. The murder a month ago had sent rumours flying about the assassin's guild, and, while it was an employed assassin, the assassin's guild never had a job for the king, and the assassin's guild had strict rules reguarding freelance assassinations. Ubtreas was the high-assassin, the assassin that held all the jobs and filtered which he let the guild use. Some, of course, were traps. Ubtreas had to be careful of those. But now all jobs were at a screeching hault. The only objective was to find the traitor and bring him before the generals.
The last they heard of him, the assassin had fled to Sancrist, and that was where the entire guild was headed now. Full description had been destributed and they were told to attack on sight. What could a town guard do against twenty highly-trained assassins?
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 11:10 am
Trent
The forest around this time of year was a bit chilly. Of course the elves' only city was built in the forest north of the mountains, so that explained why. It was chilly here most of the year, or worse it was freezing and covered with snow. That didn't bother the elves too much though, because they wore thic enough furs in the winter. In the summer, as it was now, the elves usually wore silks the made themselves. That is what Trent wore now, as the elves around him hustled about with weapons and armour readied. A war was suspected to start with the ignorant humans, and Trent didn't want any part in it. He disliked humans, but he believed they had earned Krieg Radu Palace in their own way.
So Trent was made out as a bad elf, one who liked the humans. Trent simply laughed everytime someone brought it up and rubbed his black hair, replying that those human's had earned their time as rulers... not the he liked it. But what could you do, for it was no cause for war. The only ones who should have war waged against them would be the barbarians that were spread about here in the north. But Trent wasn't a very popular elf, so his opinions held no sway.
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 11:23 am
Pyrite
The Dwarven Depths in the Grantur Mountains were warm with hot rock that flowed near the bottom. Pyrite's job was to make sure the hot rock never swarmed upwards into the living area's, as it had been known to do. His father had done this, as had his father, as had his father, and so on. Only recently had the dwarves wanted to resurface. The reason was known to all of them: the hot rock was rising.
The dwarves had an affinity for heat. They loved it, but hot rock was much too hot for any of them. Dwarves had fallen in never to have a body recovered. A story was told among dwarves, so Pyrite recalled, that told of a great dwarf named Hoth who could swim in the hot rock as one could swim in a stream. They called him Iron-Skinned mostly, but Hoth was a good name that most didn't use for him. It was popular to name a child such.
Pyrite spun one string of his red beard which he kept in two braids. Staring at the hot rock below, it was his job to drop the ice-cold glacial water that the dwarven irigation system had gathered from the mountains. It would not harm the dwarven cities any, for only wood would dryrot, not metal, as was almost anything in these cities. Pyrite pulled the metal chain and a siren sounded thrice, before the water tumbled through the pipes and caused the hot rock to become cold rock yet again.
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 11:29 am
Damall ((This will be my main role play character.))
The long day of weeding and watering the fields left Damall tired. He slipped into his favourite rocking chair that sat on his porch in the small town outside of Hyle, the capital of The Middle Kingdom. Many didn't call The Kingdom by sectors, as Damall did, but he liked the idea, for it was easier to make it that way.
The slowing orange sun continued its way through the sky, further baking Damall's already weathered skin. The sky was a deep blue, orange on the horizon of this small town. Think of that, Damall thought of the town also. The town had the main building in it's center, the one used for assemblies and schooling. Around said building were eight houses, each house different for size of family. Each family owned a farm that streached many kilometers in their backyards. This was how the town ran, and it ran good. Damall had owned his one story shack with his mother until her death two years back. Now he always took his havest to town himself, in hopes to find a bride. None seemed appealing. He simply couldn't seem to find the right one, but that never truely got his spirits down.
Thinking of that, he looked to the rest of the town, at the children who could play after their chores, at the men who sat in the center of town and chatted, smoking their pipes, and at the broken shack that sat beside his own house. Those lands hadn't been farmed in years, and no one dared take them. A curse, it is said, it on the house an its land... and Damall never much liked to deal with the supernatural. But still, he found himself dozing in his rocking chair, oblivious to any worries. He still had a great many years to live in The Kingdom, for he was only twenty-seven summers old, why should he worry about such things?
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 7:28 pm
Leon
The General of Public Order, leader of The Heart of the Kingdom, had had an abosolutely horrid day. The negotiations with the dwarves and elves had gone terribly. The Generals all agreed.
The day had started with the three of them waiting in the War Room. It was a large hall with a circular marble table too large to move. It had room for ten chairs, which had been set for the coming parties. The General of Offense, leader of The Hand of the Kingdom, sat in the center of the three Generals. He was a large, strong, wise man. He was overly-prideful, but he had only that evil attribute. His hair was none, his bright blue eyes only had room for the door. To his right sat the General of Defense, a big man, burly and dim. He was also known as the leader of The Chest of the Kingdom. His regiments were known for rigid training, around the clock mostly. He himself had long, black hair that fell about his chest and a black beard to match. His green eye had only room for the door, for his right eye was lost.
Leon was the General of Public order, leader of The Heart of the Kingdom. He was sitting to the left of the General of Offense, his own brown eyes staring at the acursed door.
Finally the door opened, but, instead of many as would have been thought, only one stubby dwarf showed up. He was as built as the messenger dwarf had been if not more so and taller. That didn't say much, for most dwarves were only four feet tall. This one had a golden beard that was thick as a heavy fog around his mouth, and it did much the same to his mouth as that fog would do to a reef. The dwarf had thick curls of gold that did more than choke his neck. His brow was conected by a large, furry golden catepillar it seemed, but Leon soon realized it was a unibrow. The dwarf seemed in a rage as it grumbled on and on about something, but none made to speak.
Finally the elves came, but they came in quite large numbers. Fifty elves stepped in single-file, one after another. Leon thought it must have been some joke. Finally, after Hronur, the General of Offense, questioned them they replied that they were the representatives of their people, and that no less would do. Six of the eldest elves took seats, but Leon could ony guess that they were the eldest, for though the long hair was thinning and white, not one wrinkle seemed to have found their slanted eyes or tight lips.
The proceedings held no fruits, for the elves wanted their palace. It seemed reasonable, the way it was presented, but the palace was theirs, and no General dared give it away. The dwarf leader announced in a fit that he was Noatlee the Great and that these mountains belonged to his people, as did all on them. The elder elf closest him commented on how he should crawl back to the depths of his coming and the dwarf savagly attacked him. The elves nearly executed the dwarf then and there, but they were convinced otherwise by the General of Defense, Ferdinan. A threat had done the job. The elves would no longer meet with the dwarf, hostilies were assummed. An awful, dreadful day, indeed.
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 7:43 pm
((Okay, jump in if you read at least half of those posts, hahaha!))
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Posted: Mon Apr 12, 2010 10:27 pm
((You can be whoever you want, important or not. Remember, if you want to use magic you will be able to, just not at the begining... Please, you don't even need a profile, all I ask you describe your character good enough every few posts AND use their names at the top of your post... simple, I think.))
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