Valen
Well-Known Member
Hi all, I’ve recently made my way back to the Circle after an absence. I’m looking at the moment to ease myself back into things gently so I’d prefer at this point to start off with a more low-key 1x1 RP before trying to tackle something a bit bigger afterwards such as group or multi thread large-scale role-plays.
However, as is likely typical for me, I’m going to do this a little bit differently from most. Below I have provided an overview of three role-plays I have in mind. These are overarching storylines that the role-play will take place within. I include no character details as part of this, instead what I would ask is you have a look at the proposed plotlines, and if there is something in there that you like the sound of, shoot me a PM and we can discuss character concepts from there. If, from there, we agree that there’s a good match for the roleplay I will then remove it from the list.
If there is anything you’re not sure of or need any more clarification on then let me know and I’m more than happy to discuss.
It has been thousands of years since the coming of the rift. In that time, the world before this Age of Eternal Night has become nothing more than a faint and ghostly memory, spoken of in nothing more than whispered stories spoke of over a covered campfire. Now, the bodiless dead and the shambling corpses have claimed the remnants of this world as their own. And while there are still some isolated pockets of people cowering within the shadows of broken stone buildings, civilisation has long since disappeared, torn apart between the claws and screams of the dead.
The living are a sad and pathetic lot, reduced to nothing more than scurrying around like rats concerned with nothing than their continued survival. The broken world is bleak, it is cruel and it is brutal.
Yet, for a collection of poor, desperate souls, their lot is about to change. Forced from safety by a catastrophic event, they are forced to flee for their survival chased by the living dead and the dead living. In their hands they come into possession of a strange item that may, just may, possess the means to close the rift once and for all. This item makes them hunted, not just by the dead but the living also, possession of such an artifact by those with more nefarious thoughts would be terrible indeed.
And, beyond all of them, the true architect of the cataclysm watches them with covetous eyes.....
A thousand years ago, the world of Oerth was shaken by a series of events that would come to be known as the Twin Cataclysm. The events of this terrible time shook the world to its very core and profoundly altered the course of history. In the year 5094 SD (-421 CY), the Suloise initiated an event known as the Invoked Devastation in an attempt to end the centuries long war between them and their hated enemies, the Baklunish. This catastrophe tore apart the grasslands of the Baklunish and turned their homeland into the arid desert of the Dry Steppes. Utterly devoid of food and water, the peoples of this once fertile land died a slow and withering death. In response, the Baklunish mages unleashed the Rain of Colourless Fire upon the empire that destroyed their home. On that night, the heavens opened and invisible fire rained down on the unsuspecting Suloise people, burning not just them, but the rock and soil upon which they built their houses to molten ash.
Over the course of a few days, two mighty empires were destroyed through their own folly, and their civilisation buried underneath a desolate wasteland. Only the ruined citadel of Tovag Baragu remained -- a single sombre reminder of the foolishness and hubris of humanity as well as the dangers of war. That was over a thousand years ago -- and ever since mortalkind has guarded against allowing power of the sort that brought the entirety of two civilisations to their knees to be used again by those of ill-intent.
Yet, ever since, those of greater learning studied the events of that past age, piecing together the events that slowly led to the near destruction of the world of Oerth. They see things that they almost dare not speak of -- omens and portents in the wind that speak of disturbing similarities between that age and this one now. There are some who see that which others are afraid to. They see scribbled writings of ancient prophecies that foretold the coming of the Invoked Devastation and the Rain of Colourless Fire -- and they see references to a third cataclysm, one still to come.
One that will tear apart not just the world below, but also the heavens above.
The wheel of time turns once more -- drawing us forward.
Deep under the earth long forgotten beings begin to stir, woken by the presence of powerful fragments of a time long gone and a promise once made.
It is the Year 586 CY, and while there are those who have forgotten the warnings and folly of the past, there are some who have not. It has begun......again.
You are experienced adventurers who have based yourself within the Free City of Greyhawk. Although your true home is out in the wilderness carving a name for yourselves with the blood of your enemies, it is here that you have made a home between homes. It is here that you rest between one epic adventure and the next.
Things are about to change.
One night, eight powerful and influential citizens of Greyhawk are brutally murdered while you sleep. Overnight, the city is flung into chaos as the good people of Greyhawk mourn their loss. There is no apparent motive to the murders and none who are suspect. The crimes are as shocking as they appear pointless -- why would anyone seek the deaths of those beloved to the city? Those who have done nothing but good in the name of the Free City?
You are contacted by a grieving friend of one of the eight -- someone who would very much like to see her friend's killer brought to justice. Yet even she does not realise that this is the beginning of something far far deeper and darker. That even now the world and all those within spiral inexorably downwards to the shadows of oblivion......
Rumours persist of a deserted island at the very edge of the world. An island that houses on it the ruins and skeleton of a civilisation and the technology it had once created.
Yet getting there will not be an easy task.
All ocean voyages are fraught with peril, yet a voyage to the infamous Isle of Dread might seem to some to be a deliberate goading of the gods of the sea. Many of those who have attempted the voyage before and managed to return from it often choose not to speak of the trials they experienced on the dangerous route, yet those who lips can be loosened by a draught of grog whisper amazing stories......tales of pirates, sea monsters, terrifying storms, and perhaps most harrowing of all, of a strange and sinister land without land, a floating graveyard of dead ships mired in a sargasso the size of an island.
This place has many names, but its most well-known may be its most apt -- Journey's End.
You all have experience of the sea. You may have sailed as part of the same crew, you may not have -- it is immaterial. What is indisputable though is the simple fact that you have spent far far too long locked on-shore for one reason or another.
However, during your time on-shore, you have not been idle. You have performed a heroic and notable act during your time in the city, and word of your exploits have reached the ears of one of the noble families. A rising noble within the Gate, the Lady Vanessa Laveine has heard of you and your acts, and it so happens that she needs a crew.
A crew that will man her ship, the Sea Wyvern, on a very special journey -- one that will take you further than you have ever been before to a land that is, at best, uncharted and, at worst, deadly.
Vanessa wants to put her name on the map once and for all. She wants to succeed where none have gone before.
She wishes to colonise the Isle of Dread, and for that, she needs not just a crew -- she needs the best.
The synopsises posted above can be run equally on a 1x1 basis or for a group. Right now my intention is to run these on a 1x1 basis and we can take it from there.
As far as I go there are a few things you should know about me.
1) I tend to write quite long, detailed posts. For that reason expect me to post less frequently, but post with a lot of detail and characterisation. Don’t expect daily posts, and definitely don’t expect multiple posts a day, however I will strive to post every other day or every 2-3 days at worst.
2) Although I do enjoy a good romantic subplot, I’m keen to stress that I do not do romance for the sake of romance, and it is not going to be the main focus of the plot. I’m here for the heroic and fantastical roleplay and the tales of heroic derringer-do. If a romance subplot should form from that great, but it needs to make sense in the context of the roleplay and the characters. Do not expect me to force in a ham-fisted romance arc if it doesn’t make sense.
3) If a romance should develop, it will go to “fade to black”. I am not comfortable writing detailed or gratuitous posts of that nature.
4) If, like me, you thrive on heroic and fantastical tales similar to what you would find in a novel or movie then I think we’re going to get on just fine. That said I would expect a role play partner who’s focus and enthusiasm to be on collaborative storytelling and world-building. I’m hoping to find someone willing to go to that level of detail.
5) If it’s not working out just tell me rather than dropping it — I’m more than understanding when it comes down to that and I am also happy to pledge that same honesty. Communication is always the key to a roleplay working and as long as we are that then I see no reason why this can’t be seen through to a conclusion.
So....phew, after all that I hope I haven’t scared anyone off. If there is anything of interest above and you like the sound of all of thos, please feel free to shoot me a message and we can take it from there.
However, as is likely typical for me, I’m going to do this a little bit differently from most. Below I have provided an overview of three role-plays I have in mind. These are overarching storylines that the role-play will take place within. I include no character details as part of this, instead what I would ask is you have a look at the proposed plotlines, and if there is something in there that you like the sound of, shoot me a PM and we can discuss character concepts from there. If, from there, we agree that there’s a good match for the roleplay I will then remove it from the list.
If there is anything you’re not sure of or need any more clarification on then let me know and I’m more than happy to discuss.
When the end came, we were not ready. But then, how could any of us predict what was to come on that fateful day? It began when the sky itself split open with an eruption of inky blackness that obscured the sun beneath its black embrace. At first we all thought it was an eclipse of the sun and moon. The truth of it though soon became quickly apparent, that this was no eclipse — this was a rift that had opened up a gate into the netherworld.
First came the bodiless spirits, dreadful keening spectral beings who’s terrible song caused those who listened to it to go mad. Stripped of humanity, these men and women who were once human turned into mindless feral beings, tearing those who stood in their path limb from limb and devouring them.
This in itself would have been bad enough, yet worse was to come.
Those who died that night would not stay dead. Almost as if the black rift had the ability to deny souls their passage to the next life, the dead rose once more as decaying rotten husks that once lived. Inflicted with an insatiable hunger, their only need was to feed on the blood on those few that remained alive. A single scratch from their rotten fingernails would cause their victims to decay slowly from within, until finally they died in excruciating agony before rising as a living corpse.
That was not the end of it. As the rift boiled again, spitting forth a vast horde of twisted, nightmarish creatures, I knew.....we all did, that this was the end of all things. Against this, humanity could not stand.
We lost contact with the world at large as our own country fell.
It was not until long afterwards that I realised our own hubris had brought us to this point — yet by then it was too late.
~
A first hand account of the rifts arrival, recorded in an ancient journal now lost in the ruins of civilisation.
First came the bodiless spirits, dreadful keening spectral beings who’s terrible song caused those who listened to it to go mad. Stripped of humanity, these men and women who were once human turned into mindless feral beings, tearing those who stood in their path limb from limb and devouring them.
This in itself would have been bad enough, yet worse was to come.
Those who died that night would not stay dead. Almost as if the black rift had the ability to deny souls their passage to the next life, the dead rose once more as decaying rotten husks that once lived. Inflicted with an insatiable hunger, their only need was to feed on the blood on those few that remained alive. A single scratch from their rotten fingernails would cause their victims to decay slowly from within, until finally they died in excruciating agony before rising as a living corpse.
That was not the end of it. As the rift boiled again, spitting forth a vast horde of twisted, nightmarish creatures, I knew.....we all did, that this was the end of all things. Against this, humanity could not stand.
We lost contact with the world at large as our own country fell.
It was not until long afterwards that I realised our own hubris had brought us to this point — yet by then it was too late.
~
A first hand account of the rifts arrival, recorded in an ancient journal now lost in the ruins of civilisation.
It has been thousands of years since the coming of the rift. In that time, the world before this Age of Eternal Night has become nothing more than a faint and ghostly memory, spoken of in nothing more than whispered stories spoke of over a covered campfire. Now, the bodiless dead and the shambling corpses have claimed the remnants of this world as their own. And while there are still some isolated pockets of people cowering within the shadows of broken stone buildings, civilisation has long since disappeared, torn apart between the claws and screams of the dead.
The living are a sad and pathetic lot, reduced to nothing more than scurrying around like rats concerned with nothing than their continued survival. The broken world is bleak, it is cruel and it is brutal.
Yet, for a collection of poor, desperate souls, their lot is about to change. Forced from safety by a catastrophic event, they are forced to flee for their survival chased by the living dead and the dead living. In their hands they come into possession of a strange item that may, just may, possess the means to close the rift once and for all. This item makes them hunted, not just by the dead but the living also, possession of such an artifact by those with more nefarious thoughts would be terrible indeed.
And, beyond all of them, the true architect of the cataclysm watches them with covetous eyes.....
A millennia ago, mighty empires turned on each other in their hubris. Unleashing a scourge of terrible, terrible explosions, their omnipotent, god-like power turned not just civilisation, but humanity itself to ash. Almost overnight, the world was turned to rubble and cinders. Destroying each other in their own self-inflicted folly, the perpetrators of these terrible acts were scoured from memory, yet the ramifications of their foolishness engulfed every single living person in wave after wave of apocalyptic destruction.
Technology and civilised society collapsed in one fell stroke, and only anarchy remained intact.
And as a world that was once familiar and secure burned, only a handful of people survived the aftermath, fleeing underground. However, their bodies and souls were forever twisted amongst the unstoppable conflagration that swept across the surface like wildfire.
All of what was once before has disappeared into oblivion. Underground, reduced once more to primal savagery, the pitiful, shattered remnants of what was once a great and proud people tried to rebuild. From their twisted, mutated bodies came the dwarves, the elves, the gnomes and the halflings, alongside the heirs of humanity -- the last heirs to a lost world.
The years went by, one after the next, and the self-styled children of the underground forgot their origins. And although the deep underdark provides its own threats, the world above is broken and lost, concealed under a ceaseless cloud of poison that claimed the lives of anyone who dared to brave it. Ultimately deteriorating into illiterate, unlearned primitives, these savage peoples lost sight of everything that they once were.
Millions of years have passed. There are none left that remember the time before - the time when mortals walked the surface. Yet, within the murky depths of the underworld, there is a small flicker of light that still burns like the dying embers of a great fire, just waiting for someone to prod the flames back to life. Mortalkind has risen once more from their primitive forebears, and across the dark confines of the dark world they now live in, tiny, tiny pockets of communities have begun to spring up, out of necessity more than anything else.
These skeletal, formative societies have begun to impose some form of order amidst the anarchic "only the strong survive" way of life that came before.
Reaching out with tentative fingers, some of the more forward thinking communities have looked to establish rudimentary trade routes with each other. And although the world below remains a deadly, cutthroat place, there is something now that the world did not have before.
Hope.
With hope, there is perhaps one more thing the Children of the Underground can reach out to and hold. The redemption of their forebears.
Life underground is hard, almost impossibly so. Here, there is no literacy. There is no religion. Humanity turned away from the gods as they destroyed the land, and in turn, the gods abandoned them. There is no magic, and the art of reading and writing is a lost skill, never to return. Diseases are virulent, passing from one person to the next, often wiping out hundreds in the blink of an eye.
Outside of the scattered communities, there is no law or order, and death is almost certain for those who leave the protective confines of their homes. The outcast roam the tunnels, looking to murder anyone who passes by simply to gain enough food to live for another day. Yet, they are not the worst thing the foolish traveller needs to fear. Unspeakable, twisted monstrosities roam the darkness and the shadows. These mindless, misshapen horrors seek to feast on warm blood.
The Underworld is a dark, dark place, yet it is here, amidst the loneliness and the shadows that you make your home. It is not an easy life, it is a hard, brutal existence you live amongst other like-minded souls, but nevertheless you live and you breathe. You survive.
Yet things are about to change, and the fickle hand of fate is about to strike. Cast out from your home and your people, you are forced to flee into the dark.
But where will you go?
The shadows are not welcoming, and the darkness of the underworld means almost certain death. Your knowledge of the underground pathways is almost non-existent, and you do not know what lies out there in this broken and dark place. Nobody has been on the surface for thousands and thousands of years, and the quiet whispers that remain speak of a burned wasteland where the very air is poisonous to breathe. The surface world is said to be death itself. You will find no respite there.
In this realm of eternal twilight, as your dwindling food and water supplies begin to run out, you will quickly find that you have nothing and no one but each other to count on. Yet what chance do you, inexperienced and callow youths, have to survive?
Or could it be that you are all destined for something much, much greater than this, and that someone, or something very powerful, has surreptitiously set into motion events that will change the world forevermore.
You are all something very, very important. You are the Children of the Underground, you are the heirs of that which was lost long, long ago. And you will strive for something that the people of the world need more than they could ever know.
Redemption.
Technology and civilised society collapsed in one fell stroke, and only anarchy remained intact.
And as a world that was once familiar and secure burned, only a handful of people survived the aftermath, fleeing underground. However, their bodies and souls were forever twisted amongst the unstoppable conflagration that swept across the surface like wildfire.
All of what was once before has disappeared into oblivion. Underground, reduced once more to primal savagery, the pitiful, shattered remnants of what was once a great and proud people tried to rebuild. From their twisted, mutated bodies came the dwarves, the elves, the gnomes and the halflings, alongside the heirs of humanity -- the last heirs to a lost world.
The years went by, one after the next, and the self-styled children of the underground forgot their origins. And although the deep underdark provides its own threats, the world above is broken and lost, concealed under a ceaseless cloud of poison that claimed the lives of anyone who dared to brave it. Ultimately deteriorating into illiterate, unlearned primitives, these savage peoples lost sight of everything that they once were.
Millions of years have passed. There are none left that remember the time before - the time when mortals walked the surface. Yet, within the murky depths of the underworld, there is a small flicker of light that still burns like the dying embers of a great fire, just waiting for someone to prod the flames back to life. Mortalkind has risen once more from their primitive forebears, and across the dark confines of the dark world they now live in, tiny, tiny pockets of communities have begun to spring up, out of necessity more than anything else.
These skeletal, formative societies have begun to impose some form of order amidst the anarchic "only the strong survive" way of life that came before.
Reaching out with tentative fingers, some of the more forward thinking communities have looked to establish rudimentary trade routes with each other. And although the world below remains a deadly, cutthroat place, there is something now that the world did not have before.
Hope.
With hope, there is perhaps one more thing the Children of the Underground can reach out to and hold. The redemption of their forebears.
Life underground is hard, almost impossibly so. Here, there is no literacy. There is no religion. Humanity turned away from the gods as they destroyed the land, and in turn, the gods abandoned them. There is no magic, and the art of reading and writing is a lost skill, never to return. Diseases are virulent, passing from one person to the next, often wiping out hundreds in the blink of an eye.
Outside of the scattered communities, there is no law or order, and death is almost certain for those who leave the protective confines of their homes. The outcast roam the tunnels, looking to murder anyone who passes by simply to gain enough food to live for another day. Yet, they are not the worst thing the foolish traveller needs to fear. Unspeakable, twisted monstrosities roam the darkness and the shadows. These mindless, misshapen horrors seek to feast on warm blood.
The Underworld is a dark, dark place, yet it is here, amidst the loneliness and the shadows that you make your home. It is not an easy life, it is a hard, brutal existence you live amongst other like-minded souls, but nevertheless you live and you breathe. You survive.
Yet things are about to change, and the fickle hand of fate is about to strike. Cast out from your home and your people, you are forced to flee into the dark.
But where will you go?
The shadows are not welcoming, and the darkness of the underworld means almost certain death. Your knowledge of the underground pathways is almost non-existent, and you do not know what lies out there in this broken and dark place. Nobody has been on the surface for thousands and thousands of years, and the quiet whispers that remain speak of a burned wasteland where the very air is poisonous to breathe. The surface world is said to be death itself. You will find no respite there.
In this realm of eternal twilight, as your dwindling food and water supplies begin to run out, you will quickly find that you have nothing and no one but each other to count on. Yet what chance do you, inexperienced and callow youths, have to survive?
Or could it be that you are all destined for something much, much greater than this, and that someone, or something very powerful, has surreptitiously set into motion events that will change the world forevermore.
You are all something very, very important. You are the Children of the Underground, you are the heirs of that which was lost long, long ago. And you will strive for something that the people of the world need more than they could ever know.
Redemption.
There were many things that we did not realise on that dreadful night. That while the city was plunged into chaos.....this.....this......was just the beginning. This night, this dark night, it was but the harbinger for what was to come. I will tell you now the thing that learned scholars fear to speak outright of. The one thing that those who truly understand speak of in the shadows of darkest night.
It is here. The End Times -- it has begun.
It is here. The End Times -- it has begun.
A thousand years ago, the world of Oerth was shaken by a series of events that would come to be known as the Twin Cataclysm. The events of this terrible time shook the world to its very core and profoundly altered the course of history. In the year 5094 SD (-421 CY), the Suloise initiated an event known as the Invoked Devastation in an attempt to end the centuries long war between them and their hated enemies, the Baklunish. This catastrophe tore apart the grasslands of the Baklunish and turned their homeland into the arid desert of the Dry Steppes. Utterly devoid of food and water, the peoples of this once fertile land died a slow and withering death. In response, the Baklunish mages unleashed the Rain of Colourless Fire upon the empire that destroyed their home. On that night, the heavens opened and invisible fire rained down on the unsuspecting Suloise people, burning not just them, but the rock and soil upon which they built their houses to molten ash.
Over the course of a few days, two mighty empires were destroyed through their own folly, and their civilisation buried underneath a desolate wasteland. Only the ruined citadel of Tovag Baragu remained -- a single sombre reminder of the foolishness and hubris of humanity as well as the dangers of war. That was over a thousand years ago -- and ever since mortalkind has guarded against allowing power of the sort that brought the entirety of two civilisations to their knees to be used again by those of ill-intent.
Yet, ever since, those of greater learning studied the events of that past age, piecing together the events that slowly led to the near destruction of the world of Oerth. They see things that they almost dare not speak of -- omens and portents in the wind that speak of disturbing similarities between that age and this one now. There are some who see that which others are afraid to. They see scribbled writings of ancient prophecies that foretold the coming of the Invoked Devastation and the Rain of Colourless Fire -- and they see references to a third cataclysm, one still to come.
One that will tear apart not just the world below, but also the heavens above.
The wheel of time turns once more -- drawing us forward.
Deep under the earth long forgotten beings begin to stir, woken by the presence of powerful fragments of a time long gone and a promise once made.
It is the Year 586 CY, and while there are those who have forgotten the warnings and folly of the past, there are some who have not. It has begun......again.
*****
You are experienced adventurers who have based yourself within the Free City of Greyhawk. Although your true home is out in the wilderness carving a name for yourselves with the blood of your enemies, it is here that you have made a home between homes. It is here that you rest between one epic adventure and the next.
Things are about to change.
One night, eight powerful and influential citizens of Greyhawk are brutally murdered while you sleep. Overnight, the city is flung into chaos as the good people of Greyhawk mourn their loss. There is no apparent motive to the murders and none who are suspect. The crimes are as shocking as they appear pointless -- why would anyone seek the deaths of those beloved to the city? Those who have done nothing but good in the name of the Free City?
You are contacted by a grieving friend of one of the eight -- someone who would very much like to see her friend's killer brought to justice. Yet even she does not realise that this is the beginning of something far far deeper and darker. That even now the world and all those within spiral inexorably downwards to the shadows of oblivion......
I cannot tell you the truth behind the end of the world when it came, for I was not there.
I have read stories though, stories from those who claimed to have seen the end with their own eyes. Accounts from those who were there when death came for them, and they committed what they could in hurried scribblings before they left this mortal coil.
They speak of the hubris of humanity. Of one in particular, a woman by the name of Fan Lang-Wung. It is said that she approached the Lord of Diyu, King Yen, with a proposition.
“Grant me immortality,” she asked of the ruler of the underworld.
“In return for eternal life, I will do what you cannot. I possess the key to the portal of Yinjian, the Land of Shade. I will unlock the portal. The Yama Kings and the spirits you control will be free to walk the realm of mortals.”
Intrigued by the woman’s temerity to attempt to bargain with the Lord of the Dead, King Yen granted the woman her wish even as she unlocked the door to Yinjian, though perhaps not in the way that she desired. Even now, Fan Lang-Wung dwells as a permanent resident on top of the Mountain of Knives, her agonised screams an example of what happens to those who dare to try and bargain with the King of the Underworld.
On the night of Dongzhi, the seals between the mortal and spirit realms were shattered through Fan Lang-Wung’s folly. Through the breach came King Yen, and with him came the dreadful entities known as the Yama Kings, accompanied by the spirits of the dead and the damned. The empty, soulless cadavers known as the Jiangshi came through, and with them came the spirits of greed, the E Gui, and the ghosts of the Jian amongst other fell spirits and demons. In a single night, humanity fell as the spirit world mercilessly and completely subjugated the unprepared mortals, brutally slaying all those who did not flee the cataclysm.
Hundreds of years have passed since the coming of King Yen and his Yama Kings. In that time, cities and towns alike have fallen into decaying ruin. Demons and spirits wander the surface world openly, and while there are still isolated pockets of humanity cowering within the shadows of dilapidated skyscrapers and amidst the skeletal remnants of once proud and majestic stone buildings, organised society has long since dissipated into the ethereal void.
The age of mortalkind is gone. This world, and the underworld, have become as one, partitioned neatly between the ten Yama Kings. Ghostly spirits roam both the over and the underworld, callously murdering all living beings that they come across in the name of their merciless masters.
Sitting over them all, King Yen watches his subjects and minions in amusement as his hungry gaze turns upwards towards the Celestial Heaven......
I have read stories though, stories from those who claimed to have seen the end with their own eyes. Accounts from those who were there when death came for them, and they committed what they could in hurried scribblings before they left this mortal coil.
They speak of the hubris of humanity. Of one in particular, a woman by the name of Fan Lang-Wung. It is said that she approached the Lord of Diyu, King Yen, with a proposition.
“Grant me immortality,” she asked of the ruler of the underworld.
“In return for eternal life, I will do what you cannot. I possess the key to the portal of Yinjian, the Land of Shade. I will unlock the portal. The Yama Kings and the spirits you control will be free to walk the realm of mortals.”
Intrigued by the woman’s temerity to attempt to bargain with the Lord of the Dead, King Yen granted the woman her wish even as she unlocked the door to Yinjian, though perhaps not in the way that she desired. Even now, Fan Lang-Wung dwells as a permanent resident on top of the Mountain of Knives, her agonised screams an example of what happens to those who dare to try and bargain with the King of the Underworld.
On the night of Dongzhi, the seals between the mortal and spirit realms were shattered through Fan Lang-Wung’s folly. Through the breach came King Yen, and with him came the dreadful entities known as the Yama Kings, accompanied by the spirits of the dead and the damned. The empty, soulless cadavers known as the Jiangshi came through, and with them came the spirits of greed, the E Gui, and the ghosts of the Jian amongst other fell spirits and demons. In a single night, humanity fell as the spirit world mercilessly and completely subjugated the unprepared mortals, brutally slaying all those who did not flee the cataclysm.
***
Hundreds of years have passed since the coming of King Yen and his Yama Kings. In that time, cities and towns alike have fallen into decaying ruin. Demons and spirits wander the surface world openly, and while there are still isolated pockets of humanity cowering within the shadows of dilapidated skyscrapers and amidst the skeletal remnants of once proud and majestic stone buildings, organised society has long since dissipated into the ethereal void.
The age of mortalkind is gone. This world, and the underworld, have become as one, partitioned neatly between the ten Yama Kings. Ghostly spirits roam both the over and the underworld, callously murdering all living beings that they come across in the name of their merciless masters.
Sitting over them all, King Yen watches his subjects and minions in amusement as his hungry gaze turns upwards towards the Celestial Heaven......
You have all heard of it.
The Isle of Dread.
An island said to be at the edge of the world. An island that is as cloaked in mystery as it is steeped in dread. Once, many hundreds of thousands of years ago, a powerful civilisation was said to live on the Island. A place that was rumoured to not only be technologically advanced, but magically beyond anything the world has ever seen before.....and seen since. Flying steam-powered airships were said to be common place in this world, and factories created all sorts of mechanical items and creations that have long been lost, along with the knowledge of how to create them.
One day, the island was destroyed under a magical cataclysm that devastated all those who lived on the surface and sank it under the waves, its mysteries and wonders lost with it. The island itself was wiped off the surface of the world and its name eventually lost to the annals of time.
The Isle of Dread.
An island said to be at the edge of the world. An island that is as cloaked in mystery as it is steeped in dread. Once, many hundreds of thousands of years ago, a powerful civilisation was said to live on the Island. A place that was rumoured to not only be technologically advanced, but magically beyond anything the world has ever seen before.....and seen since. Flying steam-powered airships were said to be common place in this world, and factories created all sorts of mechanical items and creations that have long been lost, along with the knowledge of how to create them.
One day, the island was destroyed under a magical cataclysm that devastated all those who lived on the surface and sank it under the waves, its mysteries and wonders lost with it. The island itself was wiped off the surface of the world and its name eventually lost to the annals of time.
Rumours persist of a deserted island at the very edge of the world. An island that houses on it the ruins and skeleton of a civilisation and the technology it had once created.
Yet getting there will not be an easy task.
All ocean voyages are fraught with peril, yet a voyage to the infamous Isle of Dread might seem to some to be a deliberate goading of the gods of the sea. Many of those who have attempted the voyage before and managed to return from it often choose not to speak of the trials they experienced on the dangerous route, yet those who lips can be loosened by a draught of grog whisper amazing stories......tales of pirates, sea monsters, terrifying storms, and perhaps most harrowing of all, of a strange and sinister land without land, a floating graveyard of dead ships mired in a sargasso the size of an island.
This place has many names, but its most well-known may be its most apt -- Journey's End.
~~
A Modest Proposal
A Modest Proposal
You all have experience of the sea. You may have sailed as part of the same crew, you may not have -- it is immaterial. What is indisputable though is the simple fact that you have spent far far too long locked on-shore for one reason or another.
However, during your time on-shore, you have not been idle. You have performed a heroic and notable act during your time in the city, and word of your exploits have reached the ears of one of the noble families. A rising noble within the Gate, the Lady Vanessa Laveine has heard of you and your acts, and it so happens that she needs a crew.
A crew that will man her ship, the Sea Wyvern, on a very special journey -- one that will take you further than you have ever been before to a land that is, at best, uncharted and, at worst, deadly.
Vanessa wants to put her name on the map once and for all. She wants to succeed where none have gone before.
She wishes to colonise the Isle of Dread, and for that, she needs not just a crew -- she needs the best.
I, Captain Garvyn of the good ship Endurance and my crew have been sailing these seas for what seems to be an eternity now. Our food and water stocks are dwindling, and morale is slowly but surely ebbing away. Soon I fear we will have outright mutiny. I have lost track of time and tide, ever since that fateful, foggy night when the stars changed. We lost our course, and ever since we have sailed in a straight line. We sail in the hope of reaching shore, or seeing some sort of landmark that will allow us to get our bearings, yet with each day that passes there is nothing. There is nothing but the endless ocean and the gray-tinged sky. I am truly beginning to believe that wherever this cursed ocean is, there is not, and never will be, an end to it.
And if that is not bad enough, I'm getting reports off the crew as to strange happenings occurring at night. They come to me with tales of ghostly wailing, or shouts of anger coming from the foredeck, yet when they go to investigate, there is nothing there. Worse than that, there have been sightings of a ghostly child drifting around belowdecks, searching for someone called "Clara".
But wait, something comes on the horizon, a shadowy form. Perhaps finally, this is an end to this cursed never-ending voyage.
Through the dense mist, a dark shape materializes and looms near. It is another sailing vessel, yet this one bears signs of a long and deadly life. The hull displays huge, gaping holes, yet water passes through the gaps without filling the breached hold. The rigging and sails hang in limp, tangled shreds, yet the ship moves forwards quickly despite the lack of wind. The decks and hull show signs of rot, and if the ship was ever painted there is no sign of it now -- the colour long ago peeled and flaked away. The masts creak and sway, looking fragile and rotted.
The vessel's crew then appear on deck, first ten, then sixteen, then two dozen sailors doomed to this sea of eternity in their unlife. All are dressed in rages that are barely recognizable as the dress of choice of pirates. They resemble humans, but their flesh is decaying right on their bodies. Where fingernails once were, long claws jut from grimy digits. Sharp fangs fill their rotting mouths. Most of them clutch rusty sabres, cutlasses, scimitars or long swords. As the ship nears, her name can be made out burned into the bow.
It began with a crudely written advert.
Handsum Payment for ezee work!!
If ye r willing sea-goers with strong stommicks seeking brieef adventur, reeport to tha good ship Endurance berthed at the lokal doks. I reekwire intrepid soles to fill out a crew for a herried deelivere voyage. Ye may reetern to this port or reemane at tha destinashun. Appeer before sundown - we sail at dawn! No land lubbers need apply!
When you signed onto the Endurance, you thought it would be an easy delivery job and a chance to make some easy money. What you found was anything but - a haunted vessel destined for an island of the dead.....
Dare you step aboard the Ship of Horrors?
And if that is not bad enough, I'm getting reports off the crew as to strange happenings occurring at night. They come to me with tales of ghostly wailing, or shouts of anger coming from the foredeck, yet when they go to investigate, there is nothing there. Worse than that, there have been sightings of a ghostly child drifting around belowdecks, searching for someone called "Clara".
But wait, something comes on the horizon, a shadowy form. Perhaps finally, this is an end to this cursed never-ending voyage.
~~~
Through the dense mist, a dark shape materializes and looms near. It is another sailing vessel, yet this one bears signs of a long and deadly life. The hull displays huge, gaping holes, yet water passes through the gaps without filling the breached hold. The rigging and sails hang in limp, tangled shreds, yet the ship moves forwards quickly despite the lack of wind. The decks and hull show signs of rot, and if the ship was ever painted there is no sign of it now -- the colour long ago peeled and flaked away. The masts creak and sway, looking fragile and rotted.
The vessel's crew then appear on deck, first ten, then sixteen, then two dozen sailors doomed to this sea of eternity in their unlife. All are dressed in rages that are barely recognizable as the dress of choice of pirates. They resemble humans, but their flesh is decaying right on their bodies. Where fingernails once were, long claws jut from grimy digits. Sharp fangs fill their rotting mouths. Most of them clutch rusty sabres, cutlasses, scimitars or long swords. As the ship nears, her name can be made out burned into the bow.
The Eternal Torture.
~~~
~~~
It began with a crudely written advert.
Handsum Payment for ezee work!!
If ye r willing sea-goers with strong stommicks seeking brieef adventur, reeport to tha good ship Endurance berthed at the lokal doks. I reekwire intrepid soles to fill out a crew for a herried deelivere voyage. Ye may reetern to this port or reemane at tha destinashun. Appeer before sundown - we sail at dawn! No land lubbers need apply!
When you signed onto the Endurance, you thought it would be an easy delivery job and a chance to make some easy money. What you found was anything but - a haunted vessel destined for an island of the dead.....
Dare you step aboard the Ship of Horrors?
In the ageless time before the dawn of history, there was a war in heaven. In desperation, the lords of light severed the black spirit of the dark god Izrador, casting him out of the celestial kingdom.
The gods succeeded in vanquishing their brother, but Izrador corrupted their magic and turned their victory against them. As the fallen gods spirit was severed from his physical form, so too was the celestial kingdom severed from all contact with the material realm. The lords of light discovered that they could no longer commune with their mortal children. This cataclysm shook the foundations of the world and came to be known as the Sundering.
The dark god fell to the earth, his foul essence staining the land with its evil shadow. Weakened and bodiless, Izrador retreated to the ice and cold of the far north. There he slumbered, slowly recovering his strength and dreaming of vengeance across aeons of time. Empires were built and crumbled to dust, races were born and died, and the Shadow in the North grew deeper and darker.
Three times the dark god rose, and threatened the nations of Aryth with iron and fire. The first time he was defeated by a proud host of elves, dwarves and Dornish men lead by Aradil the Witch Queen.
The second time, races of good held the Shadow off long enough for aid to come from an unlooked for ally. By the time of the third rising, the free peoples of Eredane were battered, bitter and distracted by their own infighting as well by the insidious corruption sown by the dark god’s spies over the years. Four of the land’s greatest heroes fell prey to his dark promises and betrayed their people, leading his hordes from the north, claiming their title – the Night Kings.
This time, the dark god won.
The dwarven clans were broken and retreated to their holdfasts deep within the earth. The elves withdrew into their fast and ancient forest, abandoning all to the Shadow. The Dorns, tamed by a power from across the sea in the Second Age were betrayed from within and fell swiftly.
One hundred years have passed since the Shadow fell. The elder races – those of a good heart and fey ancestry who have battled Izrador for millennia – are being systematically hunted down and exterminated. The great forest of Erethor has become an island of light in a darkening world, its elven keepers fighting a never-ending battle against besieging hordes of orcs, giants and goblinoids. The surviving dwarves clans have locked themselves in their mountain holdfasts, and the streets of once-proud subterranean cities have become meat grinders for the orcs who are sent in to root them out.
The lands of men are ruled with an iron fist by the minions of the Shadow. Cities lie in ruins, and the commoners in isolated towns lock the gates against the darkness each night. Literacy, magic and weapons are illegal, and ignorance spreads across the land like a terrible plague.
Into this world you arrive, heroes in a land that neither wants nor needs them.
No one race or culture has the might to stand against Izrador and his foul legates. The dwarves are valiant, but caged in their mountains. The elves are skilled, but have neither the numbers nor the resources to fight off the orc hordes forever. Yet there are some few who would join their knowledge and skills, the better to fight the Shadow that has fallen over both peoples. And those few are hunted.
You, inexperienced rebels in the fight against Izrador and his lieutenants, the deadly Night Kings, become the unintended recipients of a valuable prize, the unwilling charges of a deadly quest. The forces of the Shadow have uncovered a prize of their own, however and given it to one of their most devious champions. You must elude this tireless pursuer and reach sanctuary a continent away, lest you fall prey to the Crown of Shadows.
The first challenge is for you to learn to simply trust and depend on each other. Since you are in a land of Shadow, ruled by the orcs, you are strangers to each other and have no idea who could secretly be an agent of Izrador. Then, you must make your journey with little experience, minimal resources and no support, crossing dangerous lands occupied by enemy forces and in which you are strangers and proscribed outlaws. And above all else, you are racing against time, and one of the most cunning and dangerous adversaries you will ever meet – the being known only as the Hunter.
The gods succeeded in vanquishing their brother, but Izrador corrupted their magic and turned their victory against them. As the fallen gods spirit was severed from his physical form, so too was the celestial kingdom severed from all contact with the material realm. The lords of light discovered that they could no longer commune with their mortal children. This cataclysm shook the foundations of the world and came to be known as the Sundering.
The dark god fell to the earth, his foul essence staining the land with its evil shadow. Weakened and bodiless, Izrador retreated to the ice and cold of the far north. There he slumbered, slowly recovering his strength and dreaming of vengeance across aeons of time. Empires were built and crumbled to dust, races were born and died, and the Shadow in the North grew deeper and darker.
Three times the dark god rose, and threatened the nations of Aryth with iron and fire. The first time he was defeated by a proud host of elves, dwarves and Dornish men lead by Aradil the Witch Queen.
The second time, races of good held the Shadow off long enough for aid to come from an unlooked for ally. By the time of the third rising, the free peoples of Eredane were battered, bitter and distracted by their own infighting as well by the insidious corruption sown by the dark god’s spies over the years. Four of the land’s greatest heroes fell prey to his dark promises and betrayed their people, leading his hordes from the north, claiming their title – the Night Kings.
This time, the dark god won.
The dwarven clans were broken and retreated to their holdfasts deep within the earth. The elves withdrew into their fast and ancient forest, abandoning all to the Shadow. The Dorns, tamed by a power from across the sea in the Second Age were betrayed from within and fell swiftly.
One hundred years have passed since the Shadow fell. The elder races – those of a good heart and fey ancestry who have battled Izrador for millennia – are being systematically hunted down and exterminated. The great forest of Erethor has become an island of light in a darkening world, its elven keepers fighting a never-ending battle against besieging hordes of orcs, giants and goblinoids. The surviving dwarves clans have locked themselves in their mountain holdfasts, and the streets of once-proud subterranean cities have become meat grinders for the orcs who are sent in to root them out.
The lands of men are ruled with an iron fist by the minions of the Shadow. Cities lie in ruins, and the commoners in isolated towns lock the gates against the darkness each night. Literacy, magic and weapons are illegal, and ignorance spreads across the land like a terrible plague.
Into this world you arrive, heroes in a land that neither wants nor needs them.
No one race or culture has the might to stand against Izrador and his foul legates. The dwarves are valiant, but caged in their mountains. The elves are skilled, but have neither the numbers nor the resources to fight off the orc hordes forever. Yet there are some few who would join their knowledge and skills, the better to fight the Shadow that has fallen over both peoples. And those few are hunted.
You, inexperienced rebels in the fight against Izrador and his lieutenants, the deadly Night Kings, become the unintended recipients of a valuable prize, the unwilling charges of a deadly quest. The forces of the Shadow have uncovered a prize of their own, however and given it to one of their most devious champions. You must elude this tireless pursuer and reach sanctuary a continent away, lest you fall prey to the Crown of Shadows.
The first challenge is for you to learn to simply trust and depend on each other. Since you are in a land of Shadow, ruled by the orcs, you are strangers to each other and have no idea who could secretly be an agent of Izrador. Then, you must make your journey with little experience, minimal resources and no support, crossing dangerous lands occupied by enemy forces and in which you are strangers and proscribed outlaws. And above all else, you are racing against time, and one of the most cunning and dangerous adversaries you will ever meet – the being known only as the Hunter.
The synopsises posted above can be run equally on a 1x1 basis or for a group. Right now my intention is to run these on a 1x1 basis and we can take it from there.
As far as I go there are a few things you should know about me.
1) I tend to write quite long, detailed posts. For that reason expect me to post less frequently, but post with a lot of detail and characterisation. Don’t expect daily posts, and definitely don’t expect multiple posts a day, however I will strive to post every other day or every 2-3 days at worst.
2) Although I do enjoy a good romantic subplot, I’m keen to stress that I do not do romance for the sake of romance, and it is not going to be the main focus of the plot. I’m here for the heroic and fantastical roleplay and the tales of heroic derringer-do. If a romance subplot should form from that great, but it needs to make sense in the context of the roleplay and the characters. Do not expect me to force in a ham-fisted romance arc if it doesn’t make sense.
3) If a romance should develop, it will go to “fade to black”. I am not comfortable writing detailed or gratuitous posts of that nature.
4) If, like me, you thrive on heroic and fantastical tales similar to what you would find in a novel or movie then I think we’re going to get on just fine. That said I would expect a role play partner who’s focus and enthusiasm to be on collaborative storytelling and world-building. I’m hoping to find someone willing to go to that level of detail.
5) If it’s not working out just tell me rather than dropping it — I’m more than understanding when it comes down to that and I am also happy to pledge that same honesty. Communication is always the key to a roleplay working and as long as we are that then I see no reason why this can’t be seen through to a conclusion.
So....phew, after all that I hope I haven’t scared anyone off. If there is anything of interest above and you like the sound of all of thos, please feel free to shoot me a message and we can take it from there.
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