“I was sitting in a tavern when the messenger arrived. I told myself tonight was going to be a special night, figuring I could make some quick coin there singing songs of ages gone by while drinking down my fair share of grog. I was well on our way to our drunken stupor when the young lad burst through the tavern. Mud had already caked the bottom of his pants, and we all could see a few cuts and bruises taking shape on his arms. A look of exhaustion pained his face and he braced himself against a chair as he strained for each breath; he must have ran for hours to reach us. Somehow, through the crowds of people and loud noises his message was heard by all.

“The great King Baelnorn marches on the Mad King Vyshaan; he has our enemy corned and request that all bards and anyone able to bear witness to his triumph to make their ways to the Fields of Amarillis.”

The kid nearly fainted after he told us his message, and not a second passed after he finished did a loud cheer erupt from the mouths of everyone in the tavern. Everyone scarfed down what alcohol and food they had and made for the door. These were simple folk, they feared the Mad King so much so that they were willing to brave the wilderness and possible encounters with bandits and the Mad Kings soldier just to catch a glimpse of his demise.

But we got more than we bargained for. We all did.

It took most of us only a days ride to make it to the outskirts of the battle and we were all left with a sense of awe in what we saw. "An army, many thousand strong, made up by all the races of Arvandor all fighting under one banner for the first time in recorded history. Even as I crested a nearby hill my eyes strained to take in everything before me yet even as far as I was away from it, I saw the battle being engaged in earnest. On the far edge of the field, where Amarillis met the Cold Mountains, the Mad King as his army were corned. Backed up against the mountain itself, escape was no longer an option for Vyshaan, and my fellow bards and I watched as our forces slowly advanced on their position. Their bright armor shining out in stark contrast with the darkened armor of the cultist before them.

My fellow bards and I were writing down poems and stories when we felt the ground shake.

My first thought was as simple as a siege engine's projectile flying high into the cliff.

And then the ground shook again, this time twice as strong as the first.

Quickly, we all rose to our feet and looked out onto the battlefield below us. The soldiers nearest us were just as surprised as we were, and the sound of combat in the distance was soon replaced by the worried whispers of all of us. The soldiers in the distance were pulled back from the front-lines of combat, they knew something was up but from out vantage point we could not see.

Then the ground shook a third time, even harder than the last. The sound of rocks breaking bellowed out from the mountains in the distance as if itself was being torn asunder. Large rocks fell from the mountains, many bigger than a house. All of us, perched onto of our little hill, could see everything happen ever so clear. We watched as whole squads were crushed under the weight of these massive boulders. Our King Baelnorn himself removed himself from his heated fight with the Mad King and took shelter with his soldiers.

And that's when we heard it. At first it's sound was muffled from the stone prison surronding it. But as more and more rocks fell, the beast bellowed louder until there was no mistaking what was locked inside that mountain.

“Dragon.” I said in disbelief. The others looked at me like I was crazy, dragons were creatures of myth and legend or so they say. But the earth shook once more, this time the side of the mountain broke apart in a storm of stone and fire as the beast burst free from within. The soldiers caught in the massive blast were burried alive, their screams piercing even my own ears. Even from the distance I stood from the beast I could see clearly the crimson scales that covered the beast from head to toe as it crashed down to the battle below. I could even make out the massive muscles shifting under it's armored hide. I stood there for a minute, watching as the beast coiled it's neck back, facing our beloved king, before letting out a sea of fire that melted the flesh from bone of all unfortunate enough to be caught within it's reach. Their screams were louder then the first bout of that dragons victims, but they only lasted a second. Our king, and hundreds of his faithful warriors were reduced to ash.

As it's wings began to raise it's massive body off the ground, speeds that rivaled the worst storms in history gushed out and swept away those unfortunate to be near. And that's when it let out it's blood curling roar. I, and those around me, fell to our knees with our hands covering our ears in a desperate attempt to block out the deafening noise to no avail. As it flew ever higher into the air I swear it looked at me, it's bleak yellow eyes like a snake striking into the very fabric of my being. It was at this moment I ran, as even more monstrous creature poured out of the rift in the mountain. As I looked around I saw many soldiers turn cold and run, could you blame them?

From what I was told, we lost almost half our army in the first battle. Of those another half were lost in the days that followed. Even now as I finish writing this we are being hunted by many ungodly creatures. The only thing we can do is pray to the gods that we see our next sunrise.”

~Found on dead a Bard early one morning.

What is history?

History | +

The land of Arvandor has a history shrouded as much so in secrecy as blood. Books are filled with stories of great warriors leading massive armies to victory against the forces of darkness in battle. Demons and their kind have always tried to find ways to pry their way into the realm of mortals, be it through the use of a desperate mages desperation through power or through a weakness in the barrier that separates our realms. Often, these hero's arise when an Elder Demon arises; and together with the people of the land thrust a sword deep into their black hearts and end the conflict.

But often times the stories are not as simple as the books would lead us to believe. Often times the worst conflicts to spill blood was not a war waged against a demon, rather often times the most bloody wars were caused by revenge. The current war that threatens our kingdom has spilled more blood than any in the past, yet the reasons behind the war are shrouded in mystery. Most, even our King Baelnorn ,say the Mad King is a demon himself, ripped from the planes of Oblivion and thrust into our world by the mage cultists that fight and die for him. Yet the question remains, is he really who we think he is? Some have begun to speculate that this problem hits much closer to home than the king would admit.

What are our example races?

These are just some generic races and some possible sub-races. You can have some creative freedom with this. Don't see a race/sub-race that fits you? Create one! Within reason of course

Human Races | +

Firen

The most numerous of the humans, the Firen pride themselves on their ability to talk their way out of any conflict while being able to back up any words with action. They are different in most physical traits, yet they all are equal under their devotion to the God's as well as their King. Before the Mad King brought death in his wake, they also had the largest army available to any race but have found their core depleted after numerous failed battles. The first loss came when the King and most of his army were felled by the fire of a dragon, followed weeks later by the loss of The Guardians of the Light when Feer la Den fell.

Glamhoth

The humans of the north are called Glamhoth, and they pride themselves on battle and raids. They are a barbaric race of men who fight, eat, drink and make love to pass the time. They value little of outsiders, and their strict religious code allows them to kill those who believe in the new gods. But this is not to say that they are without kindness, or without understanding. Far from it, among their kin they appear to be a friendly and generous race. With each sharing what they have to those in need, and each celebrating the life and death of their friends with drinks and boastful tales of their exploits in battle. Even though they view outsiders with a cautious, and often aggressive eye, they treat every last one of their kin with an air of respect and kindness.

Lavas

The Lavas folk are the most prosperous of all the human races. They are the master shipbuilders, sailors and traders that claim home to most of the south coast, and many islands that dot the sea off the coast. Their ships are fast, and their soldiers well trained in the art of naval warfare. They are a greedy people, often compared to the likes of Dwarves, valuing coin and the parties to any other need. For with coin they can buy food, and at these parties they can gain favor. Indeed, to an outsider they are one of the most judgmental people in all the lands. They like to play what is called the Grand Game, where people's life and fortune are put on the line in a test of wit and charisma. Grand Cleric Orion said it best when he said “I'd rather deal with an angry Glamhoth than a friendly Iavas noble, for at least the Glamhoth will see reason!”

Elevn Races | +

Lebethron

The Elves of the eastern woods are know as the Lebethron, a race of Elves who claim on the woods have stretched back for as long as history has. Many times have both Humans and Dwarves attempted to lay claim to these woods, for the tree's are strong and the land plentiful, but each and any time an army invaded they were driven back by a fury of arrows from the tree top's, from their rear, and front the front. The Lebethron are a very long lived people, with most reaching around several hundred years old with some even reaching a thousand years. As such, they are the keepers of both history and tradition.

Mûl
The Mûl are the Elves who left their ancestral homeland and tried to find a life elsewhere. By customs, any Lebethron who is exiled or leaves without permission becomes a Mûl. More often then not they become one or two things outside their homeland; either they become a sell sword and fight for others or they are captured and forced into servitude for many of the other races. They are more aggressive than their Lebethron brothers, but also more cunning. They are forced, often from an early age to steal and murder. They make perfect assassins and thief's thanks to their light feet and quick hands.

The Half-elf's often fall into this race.

Andrann

The Andrann Elves of the forest and the fortress that bears the same name, Galadhon, are some of the most powerful mages in all of Dalan. The Lebethron hold great fear over magic and it's uses, and often mistreat those who present themselves as such. It was only natural, that three hundred years ago, the Great migration occurred. Angry at being abused by their brothers, five hundred mages and their families moved west and found the abandoned stronghold of Galadhon and claimed it as their own. They rebuilt it, and made the walls stronger with magic. The humans of the area have tried to reclaim this great fortress many times but are driven away at each turn. Their foot soldiers boast light armor fusedwith magic, their swords enchanted with fire and ice, and with more mages than any army the firestorms that they can bring wipe any doubt of their power.

Though they have been forced into a long retreat, their army and people still stand strong. They have the most numerous forms of battlemages around, with the most valuable being the Elemental Archer; who brings exploding fire arrows and ice shots that render you frozen.

Dwarven Races | +

Dwarven races

Anfangrim


The Anfangrim are a rather large tribe of Dwarves who claim hold over the great Iron Bottom Mountains in the south and the south east and all the fortresses within them. They are a stout and proud people who value gold, and a good story. They spent their days fighting or mining, and spend their nights drinking to tales of Dragon Slayers and other great hero's. Their fortune is only surpassed by those of the Iavas people, and only because their ships carry the Anfagn trade to other parts. They have a close relation to the Iavas, both understand the power of money. Yet both will often mock each other in public, as the Anfagn people value combat while the Iavas loves the game.

Hadhodrim

The Hadhodrim are the Dwarves of of the Middle Range, stretching from the south, all the way into the north. They are not as wealthy as those of the Anfagn, yet they are much better warriors. They pride themselves on their craftsmanship; often being the top of the line from swords to plate-mail. They often fight the Glamhoth in the north over the limited resources, yet they keep a close relationship with those barbarians. Often fighting in the morning, and if the fight was not resolved retreating to great halls to fight again; this time with alcohol. Indeed as time has gone on, less blood has been shed between these two and more ale drunk.

Surface Dwarves

Surface Dwarves are the Dwarves who have, for one reason or another, been forced out of the mountains and banished from ever returning. The other clans of Dwarves never accept an outsider, so often they are forced into many different criminal enterprises. From gangs to murder, to thiveving to assassinations, these Dwarves are often forced to do it all. Yet this is not the only thing these Surface Dwarves find themselves apart of. Depending on which clan they hailed from, some will become great warriors, traders or even a bard. Indeed, they may not be as skilled as others in specific traits, yet they are often the most diverse of all the races.

What is our goal in this RP

Our goal is survival. Our story starts with us on the run, being ruthlessly chased by all sorts of monsters and evil creatures. Our only hope is the castle that stands defiant against time, one that has seen dragon fire and survived. We must run to the Sky Bridge, make our way across and find refuge in the Castle Estel. It is here, us fortunate few, will wage one last defiant stand against the Mad King Vyshaan.

Notable people, enemies, and armies.

Notable friends and foes | +

Notable enemies:


Shamblers:





WIP: With their defeat at the fields of Amarillis, the Combined Armies left behind a number of dead and dying soldiers. The Mad King now corrupted with Dark Magic, lifted their dead bodies off the ground and stripped them of everything that made them who they were. Their flesh was peeled off, their souls forever banished to the darkest reaches of Oblivion, and their will absolute towards the Mad King.

Shamblers are the most numerous adversary that the survivors face today. While they are frail in build, and lacking in skill, they more than make up for this with numbers. Silence is their friends as they can move across vast distances without making a noise. Not one will talk, they do not step with a heavy foot nor do their armor clang. They often creep up on camps and overwhelm the guards with sheer force of numbers before converting the casualties to additional Shamblers.

They are rather easy to defeat, as any blow to their skulls will take them out of the fight for a moment. But eventually, without aid of a Sorcerer, they will find a way to put themselves back together.

Shambler Shock Solider:



WIP: Many great warriors fell when the Mad King Vyshaan played his trump card, and like the common shamblers these great warriors fell victim to the Mad King's magic. These former warriors still poses their great skills in combat yet lack any morals that would hinder an attack. Women and children are not immune to these monsters, many fall to their swift and brutal strikes.

In one on one combat, this monster will beat even the most seasoned of warriors with ease. Feeling no fatigue, these beasts will keep coming at you with strong strikes until your guard is broken, you run out of energy or you simply give up. The ease of killing a normal Shambler is lost on these creatures, with most boasting their strong armored helmets and chest-plates to protect from errant strikes.

The past few days have shown these creatures, while imposing in a one on one match, will fall with relative ease when two or more soldiers attack it at once.

Wraiths:



WIP: Wraiths are former assassins of the Mad King corrupted into something far worse. While shadows were the friends of their mortal self, these creatures thrive in the darkness. Able to move from any shadow, dark corner, or dimly lit space with ease and without notice, these creatures are almost impossible to detect before they launch their assault. Once they do, however, blood will flow. Their daggers are often coated in a Dark Magic poison, making even the smallest scratch a near fatal blow if not treated.



The Mad King Vyshaan - Post-Corruption



WIP: The Mad King Vyshaan's origins are as big a mystery as the man himself. It is common knowledge that he and a small following of cultist appeared in the south around five years ago. Within a month they had sacked the Lavas city of Trealo, and defeated the Firen general Atrimus and his massive army in battle. It was after the second month did his first infernal Black Crusade start.

He was once a human man, standing near six foot four with a fierce reputation as both a skilled fighter and powerful mage. He has since been exposed to the corrupting influences of the Dark Magic used in the spell to release the Dragon and his body reflects this. Under his custom armor, featuring the skulls of many soldiers he has bested in one on one combat, his skin changed to an Orkish color. Green skin dominates his body with black lines running the length of his body where his veins once were. Under his hood and mask, many speculate that there is no face to this creature.

Notable humans & armies:


King Baelnorn:



The great King Baelnorn is a man who has seen everything under his long rule. From a prosperous golden age, to a famine that ravaged his country, to the current war against the Mad King. He has seen it all and more often than not, he has triumphed in the face of adversity. He was the one who brokered a deal with the Dwarven King Bofkral, bringing riches for not only the Firen people, but the Lavas as well. The Lebethron Elves broke an age old war with the Firen with his help, and supplied the Firen people with food in their time of need. It was also Baelnorn who bested the Mad King's army on numerous occasions and ground his first Black Crusade to a halt.

With his defeat and apparent death at the Fields of Amarillis, his soldiers and his people have lost a lot of faith in the war. His soldiers flee without direction from the approaching monsters, and some of his people have pledged their loyalty to the Mad King in the hope that their lives will be spared.

The scouts of the Lebethron armies have reported an ominous sight. At the side of the Mad King there has appeared a man chained from head to toe. Their description matches that of the king.



Lavas Soldiers:



The soldiers from Lavas are some of the better armed and armored soldiers found in human ranks.

Glamhoth Wall Crushers:



The Wall Crushers from Glamhoth have a reputation that proceeds them.

Firen Shock Soldiers:



Firen Man at arms:




Notable Elves and their armies:


Lebethron Foot soldiers:



Mûl Sword company:



WIP: A group of Mûl who have banded together and formed a mercenary company. They are not the most skilled in combat but they make up for it with high quality weapons and armor and strong leadership from their commander.

Andrann Mages:



Andrann Elemental Archers:





Notable Dwarves and their armies.


High King Bofkral:



Anfangrim Dragon Slayers:



Hadhodrim Bone Crushers:



Surface Dwarves Forsaken:

Other.

CS | +

Name:

Gender:

Race: (I will allow custom races, but I need a thing or two from you. First you'll need the culture and religion of the race, provided with a location of where they call home. Next I need a basic history of your race, what wars they fought etc. On my go, this will become an official race that others can join if they see fit.)


Appearance: (Descriptions are preferred, but if you find a picture I'll take it. Just no anime pictures.)

Personality: (Who is your character? What do they fight for? Don't make this part bland or cliche, but not overly long either. Enough detail for us to know your character but leave enough for us to uncover in the story.)

History: (Give us the basics, a paragraph or two will be sufficient. I want our characters to find out about each other as we would in real life. Put frankly, I want us to learn about each other as we go and allow us to grow our characters as we learn more about them.)


Equipment: (Anything that you carry. No detail is needed unless it warrants it. Sword, shield and backpack with supplies? Have them in a simple, bullet point list. A family sword with a special and beautiful design? Best explain how it looks ;) )

Other: (Anything else we might need to know. Be it special skills, such as you character being able to play a musical instrument, random bits of information to small to include elsewhere, what have you.)

Rules. | +

Thou shall not be a dick. Seriously, no arguing here or in the IC thread. Take it to a pm.

Thou shall not be godmodding. No explanation here, the golden rule so to speak of an RP.

Thou can die. Don't make stupid decisions ;) If you think i might have placed a few wraiths in the shadows, get close to both friends and a light source.

Thou shall have fun. If we don't have fun, than what's the point?

Those who have have pledged their life and loyalty to me.


Join me... And fulfill the oath.

Those who have have pledged their life and loyalty to me.


Join me... And fulfill the oath.

Those who have have pledged their life and loyalty to me.


Join me... And fulfill the oath.

Name:

Dor Thuran vas Deliganda

Gender:

Male

Age:

31

Race:

Lithleeth

Appearance:



Personality:

Thuran often is the type of man who prefers his own company, though he is naturally curious about the cultures of the Eastern people. In most, if not all, of his travels east of the Great Sands, he played the role of the oblivious outsider; unfamiliar with the laws and customs of the many cities and countries, often finding himself at the mercy of the locals when he strayed too far from accepted norms. Though while he may appear an introvert in nature, once Thruan establishes himself a few accomplices among a group will he switch roles and become quite the extroverted Lithleeth.

Though many will never guess that this is all a facade. Beneath the skin Thruan is a man tormented by the demons of his past. Faces of those he was forced to kill haunt his dreams most night, especially the face of his former lover. To him, true happiness is something that is reserved for those that can afford the luxury of never having to get your hands dirty. Though he hopes that his part in the removal of the cancerous Mad King will help his conscious a little.

History:

Dor Thuran vas Deliganda was born in the Lithleeth city of Deliganda to a family of ill-repute. His father was a gambler by day while a drunk by night, and his mother was a prostitute during all hours of the day. He was an unlucky child according to his parents, an accident that might happen in his mothers line of works. His father made sure to remind him of this every chance he got, from his stern words to the heel of his boot every time Thuran stepped out of line.

His father's debt with some very unsavory people eventually caught up with him. Thuran does not know what happened that night, only that he awoke to his mothers screams that shook the foundations of their small hut. In bed next to her lay the lifeless corpse of her husband, knife stuck through is heart with a small message attached.

“A debt is repaid ~ Dor”

With his father out of the picture, and without a mother willing to care for her son, Thuran was forced onto the streets at the meager age of five years old. Age six, Thuran had learned how to survive on his own; though he does owe credit to the other children for showing him how. The city of Deliganda was a rather large city in its own right, especially when compared to the cities of the Firen and Lavas people, so stealing food and running from the authorities was something that came easy to the street children. The roof's of the buildings were as good an ally as they were a teacher. Many children were destined to fail on the streets, as was evident by the number that died trying to jump across the tops of their 'teachers'.

But not Thuran.

Despite his genetic predisposition, he was a very athletic kid. Able to run faster and longer than any other kid on the streets. He became a natural at crawling down on a rope, snatching up a few loaves of bread, before climbing back up and running until he was not followed anymore. Yet, despite how easy this was for him, the older he got the more ruthless in nature he became. If a stray drunkard would stumble into an alleyway underneath the building he occupied, he would drop down and rob them, after he beat them down of course.

But when the Great Famine struck the Lithleeth people, he too suffered. With no food on the streets for him to steal, he too grew hungry. With the pains of hunger rumbling strong in his stomach, he drew more desperate. More muggings, more coin yet much less food would follow. Eventually desperation set in, and he targeted the wrong group. He was only fourteen years old, prowling from the rooftops, when he spotted the wrong group of people to try and mug.

Thuran was blinded by hunger, and he never noticed the telltale signs of the group these four individuals belonged to. But he struck out none the less. First he lashed out by throwing a small gunpowder bomb into the middle of the group. This bomb was very small, not enough for it to kill those in the group but large enough for the bang and the sudden appearance of a bright light to disorientate them. As they recovered from the shock, Thuran sprung into action. Rushed did he into the middle of their group, and before one could blink an eye he had grabbed three coin purses and was on the verge of escaping up the side of a building when he felt a hand on his boot, before his face met the ground below and before his side met the tip of the man's boot.

The kick threw him against the side of the building. While the group was ready to plunge a sword into his stomach and be done with the good for nothing vagrant, a single voice spoke in his defense.

“This one shows promise.”

Is all the man said. In a cruel twist of fate, the men he tried to rob were the same men whom had taken his fathers life; those assassins of Dor. Quickly, and much against his will, he was taken under their wing. Each day and night for the next few months his spirit was broken by day and his training commenced by night. Eventually, after many years and training sessions passed, he was fully trained as a an assassin of Dor and was given his first assignment. The next five years passed much the same. He would kill many people, he would hone his skills, and he would forget about his past as best he could.

One day a woman walked into his life and everything changed. She was a simple merchants daughter, slaving away trying to make a living for her and her family. They struck up a conversation and an illegal romance soon blossomed. Thuran and the woman, named Skia, spent the next seven months meeting in private and talking about the future. Eventually they talked about escaping towards the great countries in the east, where food and home were plentiful and where they could escape the cold grasps of both the Assassin of Dor and the unjust laws of their countries. After months of planning, the duo were finally finished planning and were set to make their getaway.

The Assassins of Dor had other plans, however. As he slept in their compound for one last night, the other Assassins woke him from his sleep. He was being summoned by their leader to the execution compound. From what they said there was a woman who had violated the Leithleethian law by choosing her own lover, to which the sentence was death. He had been chosen at random, and he grabbed his scimitar ready to sentence death to the law breaker. But as he walked into the compound, and his eyes fell upon Skia, he knew she was made. The question that pressed in his mind was whether or not was he. He proceeded with the execution as per usual. He read out aloud her crime, asked for a confession, and when he did not get one he looked her in the eyes as he held back tears.

“With or without a confession, your sentence is all the same in the eyes of the law. We were tasked with your death by the Council of Elders, who speak for our Lord Ashun.” Thuran said as he raised his scimitar above his head. “Any last words?” He asked.

“Find the man I love and tell him to proceed with our plans without me.” She said as she closed her eyes one last time, and his scimitar fell fast upon her neck.

His brothers congratulated as per usual. A kill is a kill for their god and anytime you take a life you shall be rewarded in kind. But Thuran was not happy, he was not pleased, he was angry. He knew that the others had found out about his affair and were trying to teach him a lesson. He spoke with the others for a while before, when no one was watching, he made his great escape.

After many months of rough and dangerous travels did he arrive in the west. Many years have passed since then. Not even one mention of those dreaded Assassins of Dor being sighted. He now serves as a sell sword for whomever pays the highest, as well as those who serve the most righteous cause.


Equipment:

-Two handed scimitar- Thuran call's it Skia in memory of his former lover.
-Lilthleeth clothing
-Simple leather armor
-Large coin purse
-Massive, cured camel bladder Canteen strapped to his horse.
-Large bag of food strapped to his horse.

Those who have have pledged their life and loyalty to me.


Join me... And fulfill the oath.