'The first Rifting destroyed much of the Eldris continent three centuries ago. Rifts spawned across the land; unleashing monsters from the mysterious Netherworld and corrupting the world's magic. Only the legendary Netherwalkers could close these gateways permanently. Now, there are signs that the Netherworld wishes to invade again but Eldris' factions are reluctant to admit to the threat and are trying to live in blissful peace for as long as possible. Brave adventurers and heroes have founded a new faction, called the Wardens, to help find new Netherwalkers before it is too late...' The NETHERWAR-RPG is a medieval fantasy roleplay set in the fictional world of Eldris. It offers a flexible CLASS SYSTEM, engaging QUEST BOARD and a rewarding LEVELLING SYSTEM. It is designed for roleplayers who want to develop their characters through adventuring, questing and plotting.
The time has come for the Wardens to travel to Highwing, the capital of Morrelin and the royal seat of Eldris.
Since the first Rift, the Wardens have been growing in fame and influence across the Eldrissian kingdoms. High King Darius has been gritting his teeth ever since Miwor Town pledged allegiance to the Wardens. Whilst he may regard them as meddlesome rebels, there is no denying that the other powers in the continent are watching the new faction closely. The High King does not want to feel weakened or threatened by the mere existence of a small, ragtag group of adventurers. Consequently, he has invited the Wardens to attend the annual summer festival during the Sunhour month which transforms Highwing into the colourful centre of celebrations, politics and balls. He hopes to prove to the world that the Wardens are not as great or valiant as the common people hope them to be, and he has a special card up his sleeve that he is certain will bring out the Wardens’ rebellious sides. This card is a captured Warden in Highwing’s darkest dungeons. During torture, the High Mother and High Father attempted to intervene as they knew the boy’s real identity. They claimed the Warden to be of royal blood but Darius scoffed at this claim! In his eyes, this is only further proof that the Wardens are indeed rebels and they have set their sights on the throne - HIS throne.
The Leader of the Wardens has asked her members to attend. Even if the High King is aggressive towards their faction, they cannot reject such a powerful invite and they must find their captured ally. It is important that some Wardens are mixing in with the celebrations to distract any watchful eyes away from the palace’s heart, so that other Wardens can take the opportunity to explore the palace. Find that missing Warden at all costs.
Summary:
THE FULL EVENT is now open!
This is a complex political event which has a story for everyone. Even if your Wardens are not politically inclined and despair at the thought of a ball, they can still contribute by exploring the palace’s many hidden rooms/tunnels to try and locate their fallen ally. The Leader is relying on many Wardens for their charm and beauty to entrance the nobility so that the others may freely explore the dungeons. It is an event which may see Wardens dance with one and another, as well as enjoy the festival whilst chaos surrounds them. But be warned! More than just mere soldiers guard the dungeons. Magical traps are weaved into the doors. Giant artefacts - in the shape of strange, metallic golems - are the guardians of the most inner part of the dark dungeons, far below the capital’s ground and where the High King’s grim secrets lie. What experiments has he been carrying out? What is that strange glowing green crystal hidden in the heart of the dungeons? Is this linked to his madness? The Netherwalkers of the party will begin to feel a strange feeling itching across their skin, akin to how the Rift felt but not as powerful, and is a definite sign that some form of the Netherworld is lurking in the High King’s secret lair...
Tagging information:
Open starters, closed starters and self-paras should be tagged as:
Welcome to the Wardens, Lash! Your application for a RANGER OC has been accepted with a Richard Madden FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
Name: Lash
Age: 24
Timezone: Eastern
Activity Level: IT’S SUMMER TIME YO
Name: Jareth Bozkurtlar
The Huntsman
Gender: Male
FC: Richard Madden
Age: 30
Class: Ranger
Nationality: Unknown, Orphan raised by a farmer on the outskirts of THE LORRIN FOREST
He is actually Siftish but he is not sure where his family lived or what they were
He was found with a Ranger amulet with his surname engraved on it
He sought out the life of a ranger after his adoptive father passed away
Appearance:
Jareth wears his kills like badge of honor. His favorite game is the giant wolves that roam the wilderness. Being rare and hard to hunt, he accepts the challenge whenever it presents itself. He has made a name for himself as The Huntsman. His apparel is made up of furs and skins. The armor he wears is crude at best; mostly vulnerable leather. He carries a sword but would much rather prefer to stalk and put an arrow through his prey.
Jareth is a much respected hunter as opposed to the many poachers and trophy seekers. He enjoys the kill and the thrill but he holds his role in the balance sacred. The circle of life is to be taken with extreme care. He kills cleanly and always offers gratitude to whatever animal he has taken for nourishment. This is a trait most overlook in favor of naming him a ruthless animal slayer. Once people see how he truly works their attitude usually changes.
Their initial aversions to the man are justly warranted. Jareth stands out more so than normal rangers due to his tragic past. He never smiles and smells like fresh earth. It is a scent few find appetizing. He has no use for modern advances and prefers the shelter of a great shade tree to the stuffiness of a closed room. He carries a hammock in his pack so that he can sleep whenever he is too tired to keep riding.
His horse is a dark brown, black maned male known as Ginseng. Jareth found him next to his dead mother while digging for Ginseng root. He was a wild foal but the two hit it off from day one. They are inseparable.
Personality:
+Dutiful, Respectful, Compassionate
-Introverted, Critical, Vengeful
History:
He is a very serious man due to his tragic past. Raised as an orphan by a poor farmer, he had a hard time developing any real connection with people. It was always nature that called to him. He looked to it for comfort and clarity until he met his wife bathing in a stream. She was an exotic woman to him; with coal black hair and an olive complexion. The sight of her put a gut wrenching feeling within him. He needed to know her. She saw him looking gat her and only met his prying eyes with a smile.
Jareth wondered if he had been snared by a Siren. Was he about to be pulled under and drowned with a kiss? He would gladly let her take him under. As he shuffled toward her if she covered herself with a cloak. A smile broke the silence between them and they spoke for hours. She loved the forest and enjoyed his many tales of hunts and adventures. Over the course of a year he finally mucked up the courage to ask her father for her hand.
Her father was a brutish, greedy old man. He wanted a match of wealth and prosperity for his daughter. Jareth could only offer the meager earnings of a fur trader. The father turned him down and laughed at his preposterous request, however, Jareth planned to run away and take his bride with him.
The plan went smoothly and the two lovers whispered their vows and took to a life on the run. It worked for a while until the anger of her father caught up with them. In his desperation he offered a reward for the return of his daughter; dead or alive.
By this time the two had conceived and had a son together. They called him Garthiel. The threats became an everyday ordeal. Jareth had to protect his family every waking second. The bounty on his wife was too great for anyone to pass up. When the Dark Union got involved he stood no chance against them. The assassins came and Jareth was unable to stop them. His son held no value so he was killed before his eyes while they held him in place.
No matter how hard he struggled he could not free himself against them. When his wife ceased screaming he went slack in their arms waiting for his own last breath but it never came. All they took was the head of his wife. The bodies lay where they fell and Jareth, left alive, in the center of the bloodshed. A hooded figure stepped out of the darkness and laughed down at him. The shadows swirled to life around him and he felt the wrath of his sins beating down upon him. When he awoke the next morning he found only the assassins bodies mangled and eaten while his wife and son were intact. A single wolf lay near them as if he were protecting the dead. The wolf follows Jareth to this day.
In the days following word spread that there was a murderer on the loose. The old man had reported Jareth had taken his daughter, raped her, forced her to bear his children and then killed them both when he attempted to save her form his evil clutches. The story was insane but people believed it. Jareth was forced to run as he always had before.
Jareth is a wanted criminal in the Carn, his wife’s ancestral lands. He doesn’t anticipate anyone recognizing him in Miwor Town but he is unaware there are those who might know just what he supposedly did. Those who believe the publicized story see Jareth as a killer, a man who would rape and murder the mother of his child after making her watch her son die. The vivid picture was painted in all the blood and gore of what actually happened but blames the wrong man. Jareth suffers from the loss and more so from the damage of his reputation. He has become even more reluctant to build relationships with others out of fear of judgments. The only reason he continues to life is the intervening of the Balance. The balance came to his aid and spared him of death for a reason. He whole heartedly believes his purpose is to join the Wardens and help bring balance back.
Reason For Joining The Wardens:
Jareth finds himself in Miwor Town after the devastation of the rift. The pain and loss in the air brings back the awful memories of his devastating losses. He has been on the run for five years but since the death of his father in Law, the interest has been lost. He wants to begin leading a somewhat normal life and cope with the events of his past. Knowing the balance is being disturbed makes him weary. He has sought out the Wardens to aid them in any way that he can. He doesn’t think anyone will recognize him as the brutal killer of the wanted posters but there are sure to be some floating around the town. The nightmare that is his past is sure to follow him into the warden’s ranks. If their leader remotely recognizes him he will be forced to flee or convince her that he is innocent of all charges. Though he disagrees with the Holy Light he is eager to help the you leader protect the people. He is also curious as to why she left her position as the Hand of Light, perhaps he can convert her to the righteous Fenarious Faith.
Desired Connections:
Jareth is a stranger but he is a wanted man, especially around Carn. His wife was a Carnish woman whose father has painted him a vile murderer. Any Warden may have seen his bounty poster or heard of the gruesome tale. I am eager for Jareth to defend his reputation to his new Leader.
Para Sample:
“You will wake the boy.” Delilah chuckled out the words as he rolled over her in their tent. Their young son lay soundly sleeping on the other side of the curtain. Jareth and Delilah’s head turned to be sure he was still peacefully sleeping. Jareth pushed himself off of her into a battle ready stance as the shadows approached the canvas. Dim candles signaled the approach of shadows. Before he could release a cry of warning he was shoved into the dirt. Men surrounded them as his wife and son cried out in fear. She fought them hard rushing for the child. They got to him first. Jareth looked up from the corner of his eye, his cheek forced against the dirt by his assailant. There were at least three of them. He could see nothing but flashes of shadow and dust. His hearing was still intact; at least if he could hear them they were still alive.
“JARETH! HELP ME! MY SON! NOOOOO!” Jareth heard the sickening sound, the sudden stop of a child’s cries. His wife collapsing to the ground in hopelessness as he sobbed into the mud, still unable to move, arms shackled in iron at his back. The dust beneath him slowly turning to mud as he lost every ounce of will to remain living. His wife was next but he couldn’t pinpoint when, she made no sound after they took their son’s life. He waited for their finale. It never came. They gloated and laughed at his sobbing. A broken man was fun to mock, especially to those who felt no love or emotion. Jareth had committed no crime aside from loving above his station. Rangers really hardly found a soul they could share a life with. His had been murdered in front of him.
The leader crouched down so that Jareth could see his boots. He knew what they had done. He felt the anger rise up inside of him and he thrust himself out of the mud to sit on his knees. “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!”
“Too late for that. She didn’t feel a thing. You are the last one she will remember.”
The man spoke in amusement, regarding the despicable act as a joke. Jareth wanted to kill him slowly. The only thing that kept him from his desire was the overwhelming fact that she was gone. The vile beast tossed her severed head in the dirt before Jareth. A wave of indescribably emotion took over and he called on the balance. He wanted justice for their despicable crimes. Suddenly out of the shadows of darkness came the low growling, unmistakable to the Ranger. He himself had no fear. He was partially dead after all the horror he had just witnessed. The men surrounded him and beat him mercilessly, dismissing the growl as nothing to be concerned with.
Screaming was all the Ranger registered before his injuries rendered him unconscious. The next morning he found the bodies of the men in mangled messes. His wife and child were untouched by the wolves. A single wolf stood near the remains of his tent watching him closely. It was huge and seemingly made of mist. Jareth knew the balance had to have showed him mercy, left him alive for a greater purpose. The wolf seemed saddened by the carnal acts that had expired on the grounds. Jareth moved his arms and found that his shackles had turned to dust. The scene was as if the balance had come down and wreaked havoc on everything that was not Jareth or his family. Ginseng nudged his shoulder and whined softly. The Ranger’s life was now in the hands of the Balance.
Welcome to the Wardens, Bec! Your application for a WARRIOR OC has been accepted with a Dichen Lachman FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
O O C - I N F O
Name: Bec
Age: 25
Timezone: BST
Activity Level: Should be back to my pre-hiatus activity level now, though this upcoming week will be a busy one at work so may be a little less active for a few days. Weekends will be my main time for posting c:
Extra: <3
C H A R A C T E R - I N F O
T H E - B A S I C S
Name: Jaina “Jai” Sorlis
Gender: Female
Age: 32
Class: Warrior
Faceclaim: Dichen Lachman
C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S
Nationality: Vartheli
Appearance:
Wild, dark ragged curls hang past her shoulder blades the colour lightening towards the ends from the bright Vartheli sun. Tall and muscular, she stands over 5”10 and holds her shoulders broadly to widen her stance. Her face is deeply scarred, ragged claw marks across the right side of her face and a lengthy scar down her forehead bisects her left eye and extends down onto her cheek. Her eyes are a mahogany brown, usually framed with black war paint only adding to her intimidating appearance. Her nose is crooked, signs it has been broken many times over the years and never quite set right. Jai’s skin is a warm olive tone, hands covered in callouses from years wielding heavy weapons and manual labour. Smaller scars litter her body; most are long-healed clean cuts from daggers or swords and scrapes from falls and fistfights. A long, jagged scar runs across her left side and onto her stomach and an arrow wound in her lower back, both from an ill-advised fight with bandits in her travels.
Never one to carry anything more than the bare essentials, Jai’s clothes are practical and efficient. Opting for heavy leathers instead of iron or steel for the ease of movement, she carries all of her minimal possessions on her person at all times in various leather pouches and pockets, strapped to her waist and thighs. Her sword is strapped to her back and a dagger is holstered on each hip. Opting for natural colours to provide an element of camouflage, she is rarely seen in any clothing not brown, green or black. In Vartheli she will opt for lighter colours and fabrics but in her journey across Eldris she has taken on a darker colour scheme to suit the changing landscape.
Personality:
+ Unrelenting; her height and strong build mixed with her stubborn determination have earned her the nickname ‘the mountain’ from the other guild members, viewing her as an immovable object in a fight. She will fight to the bitter end and often outlasts her opponents, fuelled by little more than spite and the refusal to surrender.
+ Resourceful; having grown up in poverty Jai knows how to make the most of what she has. She knows what plants are useful and which to avoid, knows how to survive in extreme weather and how to build shelter. No matter how bad the situation, she will always find a way to make it out alive.
+ Kind-hearted; despite her sarcastic and abrupt nature, she has a good heart. What little she has, she willingly shares with those that need it and will protect those unable to protect themselves. She desperately longs for companionship and a place to call home but the reality of it scares her and she often sabotages her own happiness.
- Brash; never one to withhold her thoughts, Jai is loud and often offends by blurting out her thoughts, more often by her use of vulgar and offensive language. Her confidence and self-assured attitude rubs many the wrong way and she often finds herself in brawls but is (usually) more than capable of holding her own should she need to.
- Flighty; wary of everyone and everything, she is reluctant to set ‘roots’ anywhere. She rarely spends any length of time anywhere nor does she accept responsibility for anything more than her own wellbeing. The Arm’s Guild was the first and only commitment she had ever made and the only place she had ever stayed for more than a few months. It’s the closest she has to a home, though she would never admit that she sees it as such.
- Impulsive; Jai is reactive and emotionally charged, rarely one to stop and think about what she is doing or why. She will often jump to conclusions and take action without consideration for the consequences and more often than not, this ends in violent disaster.
C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D
History:
Jai grew up in the capital of Vellin, an orphan on the streets begging and stealing for scraps. Her earliest memories are of travelling in a cramped and rickety ship, held in the arms of a woman she assumes must’ve been her mother. She remembers little of the journey, the memory of the ship torn apart in the night storm far sharper. Even now she still dreams of the water gushing into the deck and the waves pulling her underneath, waking with choked sobs and the phantom taste of saltwater. She was told later the crew of a nearby fishing vessel pulled her from the sea, taking her to the nearest dock where priests helped to heal her wounds before housing her in the city orphanage.
Not understanding what had happened and why she couldn’t go home, though she couldn’t remember what home was more than the warm embrace on the ship, she was an angry and unstable child. Regularly running from the packed orphanage, she soon memorised the layout of the Lower Circle and discovered the best places to hide. She caught the notice of the older street kids, seeing her agility and slight build an asset for getting into tight spaces. She found safety in numbers, knowing she could lay her head down at night and waking with her few precious things still in her possession. They taught her how to steal, how to hit someone where it hurt and most importantly; how to survive.
As she grew older, she dreamed of something more. She grew restless of the street gang’s routines and whilst they were something of a family, she knew her worth to them (or lack thereof) after a few botched thefts. Catching a ride on a travelling merchants wagon, she slipped away from the city and travelled the many towns and villages of Varthal. Never staying anywhere too long and always armed with a plausible story for a girl so young travelling alone (for anyone who cared to ask), she built on the skills she had gained on the streets of Vellin and lived a nomadic but relatively comfortable life. In her late teens representatives of the Arm’s Guild tracked her down after sensing her aura, intending to recruit her. Jai had heard of the Arm’s Guild of course, few in Varthal haven’t, but she had never met any of them knowingly before. She only saw heavily armed individuals hunting her and assumed the worst, leading to a bloody and violent clash. Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, they offered her a position within the guild and she reluctantly agreed. The training was rigorous and the days long but with a warm, safe bed to crawl into every night and regular hot meals it was more luxurious a life than she had ever known.
Reason for joining the Wardens:
The Wardens cause is noble, the rifting affecting all of Eldris and beyond. Jai may not be the most honourable of warriors, having grown up as little more than a petty orphan thief with a mean right-hook, but she is not without heart. The destruction caused by the rifting is difficult to ignore and Jai has never been one to flee from danger, more likely to run toward it. The opportunity for adventure was an additional bonus and one Jai would happily admit. The fact one of her closest companions from the Arm’s Guild had recently joined? Well, that was purely coincidental. Or at least, that was what she would insist to anyone who suggested otherwise.
Desired Connections:
Nish – the above referenced close friend within the Arm’s Guild.
She would also likely know other members of the Arm’s Guild and anyone who has travelled or lived in Varthal.
Since the first Rift, the Wardens have been growing in fame and influence across the Eldrissian kingdoms. High King Darius has been gritting his teeth ever since Miwor Town pledged allegiance to the Wardens. Whilst he may regard them as meddlesome rebels, there is no denying that the other powers in the continent are watching the new faction closely. The High King does not want to feel weakened or threatened by the mere existence of a small, ragtag group of adventurers. Consequently, he has invited the Wardens to attend the annual summer festival during the Sunhour month which transforms Highwing into the colourful centre of celebrations, politics and balls. He hopes to prove to the world that the Wardens are not as great or valiant as the common people hope them to be, and he has a special card up his sleeve that he is certain will bring out the Wardens’ rebellious sides. This card is a captured Warden in Highwing’s darkest dungeons. During torture, the High Mother and High Father attempted to intervene as they knew the boy’s real identity. They claimed the Warden to be of royal blood but Darius scoffed at this claim! In his eyes, this is only further proof that the Wardens are indeed rebels and they have set their sights on the throne - HIS throne.
The Leader of the Wardens has asked her members to attend. Even if the High King is aggressive towards their faction, they cannot reject such a powerful invite and they must find their captured ally. It is important that some Wardens are mixing in with the celebrations to distract any watchful eyes away from the palace’s heart, so that other Wardens can take the opportunity to explore the palace. Find that missing Warden at all costs.
Summary:
THIS IS A PRE-EVENT for the upcoming A - R O Y A L - E V E N T which will be launched between the 14th and 17th July. The exact date will be confirmed in our Discord notifications.
The admins invite you to build some hype for his huge event by creating moodboards of your character’s outfits, emotions or motives during this ‘celebration’. Create playlists for the dark dungeons where the Wardens will have to overcome some of the most challenging magical traps and puzzles to reach the inner chambers. Or create the jolly playlists of the festival’s many parties. This is a creative event! Have fun.
Tagging information:
Moodboards/self-paras/playlists for this event should be tagged under:
Welcome to the Wardens, Emily! Your application for a WARRIOR OC has been accepted with a Sofia Boutella FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
O O C - I N F O
Name: Emily
Age: 22
Timezone: PDT (UTC -7)
Activity Level: Unless I’m extremely busy, I’ll probably reply within 24 hours or so.
Extra: Nothing
C H A R A C T E R - I N F O
T H E - B A S I C S
Name: Malika Nishat Amina El-Hashem, (Close family and friends can call her Nish)
Occupation: Warrior (former); Warden
Title: The Justiciar
Gender: Cisgender Female
Age: 29
Class: Warrior (Level 1)
Height: 5’ 3”
Weight: 147 lbs.
Faceclaim: Sofia Boutella
C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S
Nationality: Vartheli (Vellin)
Appearance:
Blunt bangs shade Malika’s dark, piercing eyes. She keeps her thick, umber hair loose, but puts it up in a bun when training or traveling. Her skin is as warm and tan as the shifting sands of the southern desert, marred only by a few scars that are mostly on her forearms, from botched training exercises. Her voice always sounds like it’s about to burst into laughter, and an easy-going smile is a permanent fixture on her face.
She dresses in flowing fabrics of fiery colors if she’s staying in town, and she makes sure each dress shows off her arm and back muscles. She worked hard to get them after all. She’s usually bedazzled in an array of jewelry, her nose ring a constant in any outfit. Jewelry that can also function as a weapon is her favorite type, especially if it’s gold. Although if one’s ingenious enough, any piece of jewelry can be a weapon. In battle she wears a mix of leather and scale-like armor that’s usually a shining shade of gold. It grants her more mobility than traditional armor.
Personality:
+ Quick | Physically and mentally, Malika is quick to react. She can be quite witty, her tongue is as sharp as a sword, and she loves to make people laugh. Her snark has gotten her into trouble more times than she can count, especially during her years in the Guild. Luckily she can back it up.
+ Self-assured | Nish has confidence in herself and her skills. She has to, or else she’d crumple into an insecure ball every time she entered a battle. Some could view this as being cocky, but Nish knows who she is. She’s not putting on a show to convince anyone otherwise. She simply is. She feels no need to prove herself, but she won’t turn down a challenge if someone tries to bring her down a peg.
+ Sociable | Malika loves talking and laughing and sharing stories with people, it’s where she thrives the most. She grew up in a very close neighborhood, and then spent the majority of her adolescence in The Arm’s Guild, so she’s used to being surrounded by a great deal of people and prefers it to being alone.
+ Humanitarian| She never turns down a plea for help and gives all she can to her community. Malika will do everything in her power to help those in need, especially the less fortunate. She knows what she wants the world to look like, and she’s determined to fight for that vision.
– Unapologetic | Malika will rarely apologize for things she has said or done. She doesn’t see the point to it, especially if she doesn’t mean it. A false apology is a waste of time and breath. People go through life and commit far worse crimes than her, and they never apologize. Why should Malika be any different?
– Defiant | Growing up, Nish always had a bit of a rebellious streak. And it only grew as she became an adult and realized how much injustice exists in the world. While it is unusual for her to disobey someone or something on a whim merely for the sake of disobeying, she will fight intensely against systems that keep injustices in place. If you’re lucky, you may say one of her least favorite expressions and she will most likely punch you in the face.
– Judgemental | She holds everyone she meets to very high standards of conduct, herself included. She’s quick to pass judgment, sometimes from appearance alone, and it takes a lot to change her mind. First impressions with her linger for quite some time, since if you act that way once you’re likely to act that way again. And she won’t soon forget if your introduction was a particularly heinous one.
– Passionate | Malika brings a fire to everything she does. She’s intense and driven and a tad obsessive when it comes to matters of protecting and defending. But fire has a way of being all consuming. Malika has a habit of becoming so fervent in her endeavors that she sometimes loses sight of what she started fighting for in the first place. As long as she continues to believe she is in the right, she will not stop.
C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D
History:
Malika’s mother and father emigrated from the Narfeni Islands to Varthal shortly after they were married. Her mother is a skilled blacksmith who quickly found work making weapons for The Arm’s Guild. Her father is an artisan, dabbling in many art forms from poetry to pottery to portraiture. After many years of trying, Malika was the first and only child to be born to them. They adopted two more after her, a girl from an orphanage in Belabor and a young boy from a couple in town that died from a plague two decades ago.
Malika grew up in The Lower Circle, although her siblings and her would frequently make visits to her mother’s smithy in The Stone Circle. They would play fight with scraps of wood and iron, since they weren’t allowed to play with actual weapons, and they would make believe that they were the heroes of their stories. That they would save the day and that there would always be a happy ending. As Malika grew, she began to learn that being a kind and just person was not always good enough to guarantee a happy ending. Bad things would happen to good people, and usually through the fault of someone else, someone in power. And it infuriated her. That someone could get away with such atrocities. And that people let them? That there were systems in place that allowed them to do so? She vowed to change it, and so she channeled her indignation, took a page from her heroes’ books and vowed to fight to make the world a better place.
The Arm’s Guild knew of Malika from her mother, and they kept a close eye on her as she grew. Her need to fight and her sense of justice made her a highly likely candidate. Once she hit puberty and showed the signs, they recruited her and began her training. She was a bit of a spitfire during her lessons, always getting into fights with the other trainees and not knowing when to hold her tongue. She would often work herself to the point of exhaustion during her training. She wants to be Blademaster someday. It’s the easiest way that she can have the biggest influence. Over her years of training she began to show great skill at the javelin and bo staff, on foot and on horseback. She also keeps a dagger on her person at all times, as well as any offensive jewelry she happens to be wearing. You can never be too prepared.
She got her gelding, Samir, as a gift once she completed her training when he was a year old. A skittish buckskin, most didn’t have the patience to train the flighty colt. But Malika fell in love with the young horse. He’s been her trusted steed ever since, and they’ve been on many adventures together. They have traveled all over Eldris, and to the Narfeni Isles on occasion. She prefers to stay in the warmer climates, so she rarely travels north of Highwing if she has to. She does not handle the cold well. Malika and Samir were in the Narfeni Islands, visiting her mother’s birthplace, when she caught word of the Rifts opening all over Eldris. They sailed out on the first ship they could.
Reason for joining the Wardens:
They’re collecting the best of the best right? So obviously Malika had to join. She still wants to become Blademaster, but joining the Wardens means she can do even more good and save even more people. With the resources and influence the Wardens can afford, Malika can help so many more people than if she just stayed with the Guild.
Desired Connections:
None at the moment, unless you want to play one of her siblings. I’m open to anything really.
Welcome to the Wardens, Bo! Your application for a RANGER OC has been accepted with a Sean Bean FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
C H A R A C T E R - I N F O
T H E - B A S I C S
Name: Brynjolf
Title: The Exile
Gender: Male
Age: 58
Class: Ranger
Faceclaim: Sean Bean
C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S
Nationality: Siftish
Appearance:
Looking at Brynjolf, one wouldn’t be impressed. He slouches, making himself shorter than his upright height of 6 foot. He doesn’t shave much. He shaved before he came to Eldris, but then he got on a boat and traveled across land and sea. He’s always sporting some scruff anyway. The shite razor he uses his dull by now. He carries a sword, and when he’s actually in battle…he’s a sight to behold. He straightens up and looks like a proper knight save for the possible moss growing on his back. His hair is longer than it should be, going past his chin and dusting along his shoulders. He’s riddled with scars, most of them on his chest and back (from a brief stint in a fighting ring) and a few on his face. The biggest ones are the two on his back (jagged blade scars) and the one on his eyebrow from an accident as a boy.
Personality:
+Compassionate: While Brynjolf has a hard outer shell, once it’s peeled back (especially with children), he can be quite kind and compassionate.
+Hardworking: Bryn has never been accused of being lazy (unless you’re his father). He’s not afraid of putting in his hours, and some have even accused him of being too diligent in his work.
+Stoic: He’s seen heartache, joy, and any emotion in between. But through all he stays still, calm and collected. Few things in his world have made him weep, and it takes a lot to get him to shed a tear.
-Callous: His exile makes for poor social skills. Insensitivity is putting it too lightly. Sometimes he simply speaks what enters his head which can result in poor first impressions.
-Untidy: Again, his exile puts him at a disadvantage. Not having to bathe or clean up after himself in his exile, he doesn’t really keep himself fully clean. His hair is usually greasy because of this, and often, he has to be reminded (usually by his own nose) that he needs to actually…you know…bathe.
-Grumpy: He’s an old man. He’s been alive long enough to know he’s tired of these young kids. Harrumph harrumph harrumph. Grumble grumble. Get off his lawn.
C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D
History:
He never met his mother properly. When he came into this world, she was only able to hold him for a moment before her arms went limp and her eyes glazed over. His father from that moment forward blamed him for everything wrong that happened in his life. Earthspeaker Erendorn was never easy on his son as he grew up, and it didn’t change all the way to Brynjolf’s self-exile.
Brynjolf was born to be a Ranger. His father told him that was what he would be, and he truly never let Bryn have a childhood or a choice in his future. As soon as he was old enough, Bryn was trained meticulously. Sword, bow, and blunt, Brynjolf learned as many weapons and fighting styles that he could in his short time. The Singing Tree finally chose Bryn when he was 13, one of the younger Rangers chosen.
Despite his young age and proficiency as a beastmaster, Erendorn still refused leniency towards his son. For all intents and purposes when Bryn became a Ranger, he became an adult, in no need of coddling. So, Bryn continued to attempt and impress his father. He put more effort into his training and he lost contact with a lot of his fellow rangers.
He fell off the map for a while, and when he came back, he was only 25. For the next five years, he re-established himself in the Siftish community. He tripled his efforts to become an Earthspeaker, like his father. Bryn was convinced that if he became an Earthspeaker, his father would finally come around.
Alas, 30 came around, a starting age for Earthspeakers. There was a rare young Ranger who could impress the speakers. But before he could speak with the Earthspeakers about his possible consideration for the prestigious position, his father stopped him.
“You will never be an Earthspeaker.”
Those words hit him harder than he expected, and so, he ran away. He’d had enough of his father’s unreachable goals, and he left. He traveled from the top of the continent to the bottom, catching a ferry to the Exotic Isles. In his self imposed exile, he stayed on one of the smaller islands. He didn’t talk much, and he didn’t get out much. And he grew up more than he expected. Until the Singing Tree’s song became too loud.
Reason for joining the Wardens:
It was a dream unlike any he’d ever had. The Singing Tree sent him visions of another Rifting, but he ignored them mostly until the dreams got so intense that he physically couldn’t rest without head pounding visions. So, he bucked up and went to Eldris, learning about the visions of a certain High Priestess and joining her Wardens if only to rid himself of his visions.
Desired Connections:
He probably wouldn’t know anyone since he “left” the Rangers when he was 30. So none of the newer Rangers would remember him, but they would remember his father who is one of the Earthspeakers. If anything, he might known some Narfeni people since he’s been on – since his self appointed exile.
Welcome to the Wardens, Nikki! Your application for a THE SEEKER has been accepted with a Caitlin Stasey FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
O O C - I N F O
Name: Nikki
Age: 20
Timezone: PT (Soon to change, will be traveling during the summer but this is my ‘main’ one!)
Activity Level: In the coming week or two, things will be a bit hectic because I’ll be traveling to visit relatives overseas but I will most likely be on every few days. If any longer absences come up, I will definitely notify the masterlist or the OOC chat.
Extra: – (Sorry if the app is a mess, I got excited when I started thinking of things and now here we are.)
S K E L E T O N - I N F O
T H E - B A S I C S
Skeleton Title: THE SEEKER
Name: Tuilelaith Rinne
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Class: Ranger
Faceclaim: Caitlin Stasey
C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S
Nationality: Crywrenian
Appearance: Her brown hair falls in thick waves to her mid-back. Often, it is let down, allowed to spill over her shoulders, though sometimes it is pulled back or adorned with a simple band of flowers. With a height of 5'1" and features, star-touched eyes and restless lips, hinting at naivety and youthfulness, Tuilelaith is often brushed aside. She is summed up as a pretty thing of pleasant presence. Riling at her unearned dismissal, she tries to command attention by emulating a confidence and courage that she does not feel she possesses. She may stand as a tree or a rock, noble and immovable, but on occasion she may waver. The times she wilts are not too apparent. One may notice a flash of uncertainty, a shameful timidness before she excuses herself or squares her shoulders and lifts her head again.
Personality:
(-) Single-Minded;; With the pained cries of the Balance sounding so clear to her, Tuilelaith can not help but doggedly chase after any hint of a cure. Her inability to fix it pains her. There are spans of time when all she does is hunt for a solution, disappearing from others and submerging herself in research. She can only work on one problem at a time, or rather this problem has haunted her for far too long that she can no longer ignore it.
(-) Stubborn;; Tuilelaith feels as if she must prove herself. She needs others to believe that she is capable and strong. To do this, she stays her ground on things and in competitions that she would be better of letting go. Once she has made up her mind, it is nearly impossible to get her to change it.
(-) Judgmental;; She is wary of others and this wariness causes her to draw quick conclusions about the people around her. She has strong feelings about both crooks and people who show off their fortune. Having history with both, however, her opinions are rather muddled. Depending on her judgement of someone’s character, she may try to avoid them.
(+) Appreciative;; Though cautious of others, Tuilelaith can be won over by shows of sincerity. She is grateful to any act of kindness and isn’t one to let herself stay indebted to someone. She remembers what others have done to and for her.
(+) Brave;; She has learned how to wear confidence through imitation and so courage almost seems easy. Tuilelaith can be shaken. She is not one for fights but feels a duty to aid in combat. She is aware of death and of how quickly her mission could end if she falls. She is scared but her mother urged her to be brave. It is a command that echoes during times of weakness.
(+) Earnest;; There is too much happening, too much chaos, to worry about someone else’s feelings about her. Her words will be sincere, perhaps not too blunt, but should she dislike someone it’ll show. She will not hide her feelings and, if she can help it, her thoughts.
C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D
History:
Tuilelaith had lived, for a short time, in a town. At most, she can recall the looming mountains and the shadows of surrounding woods but that is all. The only faces she can remember are those of the shopkeeps her mother and her visited but their names escape her. Most of her childhood was spent in a cottage in a small valley hugged by the mountains of the Fydheim Highlands. Her mother, Muirgen, and her older brother, Fintan, would hunt for their meals and for hides and furs to sell. Her father, after they had gathered and prepared enough for a cart, would journey for days to a distant town to sell them. Tuilelaith, being only five then, did not think of their living as anything other than normal. It was lonely. There were days when she would only have herself to fill the silence. She would go out to walk among the flowers, raise her voice in song or hold imaginary conversations with the animals around her. Fintan later told her, when their mother had gone to gather wood, that their father had been run out of town.
Lachtna, Tuilelaith’s father, did not know how to fight but he knew how to talk. He knew how to weedle his way to higher profit and he knew how to cheat customers for small amounts of money. When one of his regular customers found out, the word spread. He was to be brought to trial and then to justice. Muirgen, having known some of her husband’s tendencies, had prepared an old family cottage of hers for them to run to, to live in. They became a family that not only cheated but refused to face justice. Theirs was a family without honor. She did not know what to think of this.
When she was seven, she dreamt of a tree. And it sang to her.
Tuilelaith woke to the murmurs of life. She could feel the nature around her, the Balance, singing. It was a song that she could not replicate but she tried. When her family left her alone and she could walk out into the valley, she tried to join the singing. She would talk to flowers, ask if she was doing her part correctly, then listen to see if they would reply. They did not answer her, not directly, but she did learn from them. Coming across a flower stem broken in half, Tuilelaith felt the weakening hum of it, and willed it to get better. Putting her hands gently around the stem, the two halves connected once again. She ran to tell her family.
Becoming a Ranger was a difficult task. As she grew, Tuilelaith experimented with her gift to the best of her ability but she lacked experience and training. She needed knowledge. The Balance was like an ever-present friend to her, a guardian, and, over the years, she could hear it weakening. She did not know what to do but she knew that something had to be done. She needed to leave and to learn. Her family would not let her.
Lachtna warned her of his enemies and told her how dangerous others were. He, himself, was a person who lied and cheated and those who weren’t called for blood far too eagerly for his liking. Stay where you are safe, he said because they would not follow her. Their home was here and if she was leaving the nest she would be doing it on her own. He was angry, not so much at her, but of the people outside and of his own mistakes. He had lost his fortune and lost the home he had claimed for himself. The Rifting will come, Lachtna knew that, but he was a bitter man that did not want to see his family raise a hand to help those that didn’t deserve it.
What can you do? He asked her, telling her to leave adventures and fighting to people who were more capable and more suited to die.
Fintan raged then sulked. He was a fire that would blaze then cool to ash. He was older by six years and, still, he hadn’t left their family for any longer than a journey to town. You don’t do anything. He had been the one to care for their mother when she had gotten sick. He had been the one hunting for their family, travelling and trading for their family. She was young and he was burdened. And their family was something to be held above all because of how they lived and how they had run. They only had each other and she was leaving. It was a betrayal.
You know nothing but your own needs. He said nothing else.
Muirgen was quiet and still. After Tuilelaith announced her decision to leave, Muirgen had simply turned to silence. This lasted for days and broke only when Lachtna and Fintan left to sell their goods and to escape the tension. She packed Tuilelaith’s things and spoke to her softly about how to be brave. She told her of how stars are small but burning things and of how she, too, could be that. How she, too, must be that.
And, love, pursue good and believe you are strong enough to grasp it.
Reason for joining the Wardens:
After arriving in Siften, Tuilelaith searched for the Druids of the Fenarious Faith to learn from them. There was a rising urgency in her development as a Ranger. Everyday, she took notice of the dwindling magic, the disturbances in the Balance’s song. But she did not know how else to help. She could help nurture plants and animals back to health but the progress was slow and the effect unnoticeable. Her efforts did nothing. When she heard of the Wardens, Tuilelaith found that she could finally breathe. This was something. They had to be something.
For all her will and fire, she knew nothing. The Wardens, however, might.
R O L E P L A Y - S A M P L E
(Please provide a sample of your writing to one of the prompts below or use another setting which fits with your character’s background and story.)
Three hours down the Spine Mountains, the chilling winds cut less at one’s skin in favor of taking ice-brushed nibbles. The path through the mountains and into the Targun Forest was marked with rocks frosted over white from dropped temperatures and storms turned to cold. Tuilelaith strode in expert silence, shoulders dusted with snow, in a thick fur-lined dress that seemed warm enough but unusual wear for a mountain traveler. She had no horse or any weapons that one could see. If it were not for the backpack she carried, almost bursting with its burden, she would have seemed to be a ghost, a lady of the mountain that was all but a dream.
But she was real and her dress seemed a fine thing and she, herself, appeared as if a doll. To the shadows around her, the grinning squinting gloom, she was a target of opportunity. A lady alone, seemingly rich. It was luck.
Tuilelaith walked to the side of the road and rested her hand on a tree trunk. To the bandits laying in wait, she seemed nothing more than tired. But, she had heard them. They were clumsy fellows, loud fellows. Their footfalls, rushed in their hunger and carelessness, had been like distant thunderclaps beneath the nipping winds. As she concentrated on the nature around her, the tree roots in her mind extending in pulsating green, she caught glimpses of where the bandits were. She pressed her forehead to the bark and whispered her thanks.
Turning, she put her back to the tree and lifted her dress by a few inches. Tuilelaith bent down and took off her slippers, placing them neatly beside her. After shrugging off her pack, she stretched her hands in front of her. She stood still, relaxed. Closed her eyes. Felt the sharp air frost over her lungs. Then she lifted her chin, eyes open and challenging.
"You’ll be given five seconds to leave. After that, I will try not to kill you but I will also be trying not to die. Please consider this, I do not like fighting.“
Four cloaked figures broke from their cover. One, a lanky fellow that seemed all elongated bones beneath a darkened face, grinned. His eyes were the black beads of crows but without the bird’s innate wisdom, only the glazed brightness of malice. "Tell ya what, lass,” The voice that came from him was the scratching of stone against stone.He shrugged, the movement traveling up his spine to his shoulders. “we like gifts. Leave yer gold-”
With one quick stamp of her foot, four tree roots shot out of the earth to knock the bandits down. The man, surprised at the interruption, was shoved prone to the ground, the root then snaked over him and dug back into the earth. One root clamped around one bandit’s leg while another wrapped around one’s torso. There was a single bandit that managed to leap back. With a flick of his hands, two knives sliced towards her.
Tuilelaith moved with a nimble grace that appeared almost as if she were dancing. The knives hit the tree behind her, embedding themselves deep into the wood. As Tuile finished her spin towards the bandit, she traced the tips of her toes in an arc on the earth. Dirt kicked up as another root broke the surface, jetting towards the bandit in a smooth curve. It curled around the bandit’s chest, immobilizing him.
Without a glance towards any of the other bandits, she hurried to dig out the daggers from the tree’s bark. “Thank you for the aid.” With a pat, Tuile healed the tree’s wounds. “As for all of you…” She turned to the bandits and looked over the one who had spoken to her. “Fighting is a mess and I do hope you stop this because if I do see you a next time attempting thievery I will have to hurt you.” Then, with a hefty kick (sometimes multiple), she knocked each of the bandits out.
She left them with their clothes and their rations, hiding away all their weapons save for a single knife they could use to hunt. The roots sank back into the earth when she walked off carrying, still, her pack, her gold, and her shoes.
The Wardens have established themselves as worthy heroes after they joined together to defend Miwor Town from the first Rift. For months, they have been journeying across the lands and completing dangerous missions to gain influence, power and intelligence for their cause.
It is only to be expected that the Wardens are growing into the perfect weapons and shields against the Netherworld’s threats. As they grow more powerful and worldly, the people of Eldris have a greater chance of surviving the Rifting.
ALL WARDENS WHO TOOK PART IN THE OMENS IN THE SKIES PLOT EVENT (or any event prior to this) HAVE NOW RECEIVED THE PRECIOUS ‘DRAGONLIGHT’ ARTEFACT STONE FROM THE LEADER. INFO HERE.
L E V E L - U P - E V E N T
Hello Wardens! It is time to tally your points and submit them here. Please select ‘level up points’ in the tag section. If you have levelled up, please say what reward you would like from your class’ level options. Remember, we’re really cool with you guys submitting your own ideas for the LEVEL 2 artefact rewards.
We will explain how you tally your points in the below FAQ section.
You have until Sunday 4th June to submit these points! So take advantage of the current CLASS EXPLORATION event if you haven’t done it and need extra points. We have received lots of lore submissions too which we will be handling in the following week, so please add that to your scores if you’ve submitted it.
F A Q
Your character can gain points from:
QUEST participation - 30 points
(Note: you get 30 points for each quest you did. If you did two threads in the Blood Cult quest, that will be 60 points.)
T H E - S K E L E T O N - K I N G
T H E - G R E A T - B E A S T S
B L O O D - C U L T
PLOT DROP participation - 50 points
O M E N S - I N - T H E - S K I E S
EVENT participation - 20 points
W H I S P E R S - I N - T H E - D A R K
S P R I N G T I M E
C L A S S - E X P L O R A T I O N
Posting an OPEN STARTER - 10 points
Posting a CLOSED STARTER - 5 points
Replying to THREE OPENS - 15 points
WORLDBUILDING contribution - 10 points
100 ROLEPLAYING POSTS - 100 points
LP will also be rewarded to players for every 100 ROLEPLAYING posts they make. This does not mean that you can tally up your 65 posts as points. You have to wait until you have done 100 roleplaying posts for it to count. (This does not include reblogging of a character’s likeness or outfits on the dashboard, you will have to go through your tags and separate them!)
“The world we live in is alive. It lives and breathes and sleeps just as we do. Look to the tides, or the shifting of the moon, or the changing of the seasons, and you will see it. The Balance is a cycle, and as Rangers you are in tune with this cycle in a way no other on Eldris is. It is up to you to protect and preserve this delicate cycle, or else the Balance will be ruined.”
Lore submitted by: @roswitha-unroh
Everything in nature is cyclical. The seasons, the lunar phases, life and death itself. It all is a constant flow of energy and the Balance. To reflect this, the training of Rangers follows the flow of the energy of the seasons. As spring is a time of beginnings, most Rangers start their training then, although all are welcome to join at anytime. Each season Rangers in training are encouraged to leave Change of Season Offerings as a new course of study begins. Completing a full year is the requirement, to ensure the Ranger is exposed to all areas of learning, although they are encouraged to repeat courses. Each day of training begins and ends with an hour of meditation to reflect on the lessons learned that day and to send prayers to the Singing Tree.
The spring is a time of growth, of new life and new beginnings. As the new leaves bud and bloom on the trees, Rangers are taught to connect with nature and the Balance. The focus is on using nature magic to heal, protect, and nurture. The Balance looks out for its Rangers, and Rangers are expected to do the same in turn. During these lessons, Rangers will be expected to grow and nurture a small sapling, using nature magic to protect it from lingering frost or things that would wish it harm.
The heat of the summer sun gives warmth and energy to the world. During the long summer days Rangers begin archery training and learn about bow maintenance and how to craft arrows. The best way to become familiar with a weapon is to craft it yourself. The training culminates in an archery festival hosted on the summer solstice. While it’s mostly used as a proving ground for Rangers in training, archers from all over Eldris attend. For the rest of the summer Rangers can either continue honing their skills with the bow or focus on other means of fighting.
Autumn arrives and the leaves change colors as the unrelenting constancy of time marches on. The forests of Siften become blanketed in fragile sticks and noisy leaves. It is during this season that Rangers are taught the necessary skills for being silent and nimble. Agility races are held, as well as stalking exercises. If one can move silently and swiftly through a dead, dry forest without being detected, then one has truly mastered the agility necessary to be a Ranger.
Snow muffles the senses. It blankets the world in a quiet, pressing whiteness. Many animals hide in their burrows or dens, waiting for the nights to shorten and for the light breeze of spring to return. It is during this season that Rangers are trained in focusing their enhanced senses, their sight, sound and smell, during a time when the world is silent and sleeping. As they hone their senses, they are also tasked with speaking to the animals who stay awake during the winter months and listening to their needs. Winter is a harsh season, but having someone to rely on can make all the difference.
Once a Ranger completes their training they are free to make their own choices, so long as it preserves the Balance. Most choose to leave, finding a forest or glen to protect. Other’s strike out on their own, hoping to make a name for themself. Some even become Earthspeakers, if the timing is right. All are welcome back should the time come.
Those that do return continue the cycle of knowledge. They share what they learned during their travels, and use it to teach the next generation of Rangers. Some choose to stay year round to educate, while those that feel the call of the wild a little more strongly only stay for a season or lunar phase before continuing on their way. As long as the knowledge is passed on to ensure the cycle continues, so too can the Rangers.
The prodigy is born in shadows. The darkness is their nurse, their mother, and their master. When a child reaches the age of fourteen they are taken before the selection council. This secretive council will administer the trial of shadows and light, the first of the Prodigy Trials. The constant struggle in a child’s life is the battle of light and dark. Children of the Underworld are not under strict guidance and they must come to know their own balance.
There are six trials in total. The first three are basic trials of the rogue class. Once a Dark Union member reaches and passes the trial of blood they are free to enjoy the splendors of the world working as an assassin or they can continue on in the hopes of becoming the prodigy. Prodigy selection begins when the Dark Master reaches his older years, around the mid to late sixties or sometimes earlier. It is not clear how exactly the Master determines the time for reaping.
The Prodigy trials are designed to weed out the weaker contenders at every step. By the time the third trial is reached there are only a handful of pupils left. The rest have either been killed or disbanded from the competition.
All of the markings bear significance. There is one whole symbol divided into several parts. These parts are branded into the skin over the previous so that every previous mark is re-burned into the flesh. The first three make a complete symbol and the last three make another complete symbol intertwined with the previous.
A Prodigy Trial contender can always be spotted form the brand on their wrist that is received during the trial of Obedience.
The Trial of Shadows
The Trial of Shadows is the first judgment in which the Shadow Cast is used. This is a sacred artifact and assesses the deepest portion of one’s soul. No one trial is identical because there are different balances of light and dark. It is unique to each person. Only the Council members are able to understand and interpret the artefact’s judgment.
The mark is branded into their skin upon the conclusion of the judgment. It is the ancient Carnish symbol meaning Shadows and it can be placed anywhere the child chooses as long as it is not blatantly visible to outsiders. All other marks earned will be placed on top of the previous so that each new mark requires the previous to be re-burned into the skin.
The Trial of the Shadow Bond
The childre who have proved themselves worthy by passing the basic training are bonded to a Dark Lord. This Dark Lord will perform the bonding ceremony. It is excruciating for the pupil to endure. By this point in their training they are around eighteen years old and have accepted the honor and pain that is associated with such a relationship. The bond is a training tool used to punish and monitor the success of the apprentice.
This mark has been known to kill those too weak to handle it. If a student chooses to reject the bonding they are forbidden to continue their training. however, they are not shunned or exiled. They are considered the lowest of the lowest class of citizens but they may remain in the Underworld. Most choose to live in other areas of the world or disband from the Dark Unions ranks.
The mark of this bond is added over the previous mark to signify that the rogue is now in an apprenticeship.
The Trial of Blood
Up until this point the apprentices have not yet taken innocent life. They may have killed others while fighting but they have not formally been assigned a target. This trial is the first time they will be required to take the innocent life of another. The targets are usually random and never deserving of a brutal death. Many apprentices find they cannot stomach taking innocent life. Some end up disowning the guild and disband or flee the Origin in search of noble causes. Only the possible prodigies are able to take the lives and feel absolutely nothing. This elite guild becomes the pool for choosing the next Prodigy. If one makes it this far they will be required to complete three more trials before they can become the Masters Apprentice.
The Trial of Detachment
A true rogue cannot afford to feel much of anything, especially attachment or love. These feelings will make the prodigy weak and vulnerable. This trial is aimed to detach the pupil form everything he cares most for. In this trial the student will be forced to lose the closest person in their life. This could have happened at any point in their life but the Master will create the allusion of it happening over and over and over until the student gives in, goes insane, or lets the pain go.
Unlike the previous trials, this trial must be conducted by the Dark Master himself. He must approve of the passing and issue the mark if he sees fit.
The Trial of Obedience
Blind obedience is one of the most important traits a prodigy can have. They must take every order as law if they hope to become the next Dark Master. In this trial the pupil will sit directly in front of the Dark Master wearing only their undergarments. The Dark master will then instruct them to brand themselves on the wrist with the Carnish Trident. The stipulation is that they must hold the hot iron to their skin until the dark master instructs them to remove it. It has been known to be one of the most excruciating moments of a rogue’s life if they had made it to that stage.
The Trial of the Prodigy
There would only be a handful of potential prodigies at this point. The record class has only had ten contenders. Every person is given the choice to continue or disband. The last trial ends in either victory or death. The contenders are placed in a giant underground arena where they will fight to the death. The trial doesn’t end until there is only one left alive and this one is the Prodigy.
The Final Marking Ceremony
The final marking ceremony is held on the night of no moon. It is a giant party for all of the rogues to drink and celebrate the passing of a torch. The mentor of the new prodigy will sever their bond, meaning the prodigy will take their life to initiate the festivities. Once the former mentor burned on the pyre, there is a final toast to their honor and skill before the Prodigy is bonded to the Dark Master. At the conclusion of the new bonding there are usually many drinks, women, and men all around. Rumors say the Dark Master spares no expense on exotic entertainment.
For centuries, there was little information about how the Nightmare Weaver became to be. The creature of the myth just came to existence, leaving a trail of misfortune behind wherever she went. Legends have it that the Nightmare Weaver was a beautiful woman with hair white as snow and eyes dark as the night. Some say she was human. Few believed that she was an elf. But all imagined her to be a young cruel witch who had a fondness of tricking people into getting what she wanted.
They called her Nightmare Weaver because people say that she acts like a spider; luring the less fortune that she could gain something from in with her web of lies, promising them whatever their hearts desired. She would help them get what they want really, but after she did, she would then betray them in a snap of her fingers and twist whatever they most desired into their worst nightmare. She weaved all of her victims’ dreams come true into their most ugly of nightmares.
There are few stories centered around the Nightmare Weaver mentioning how she fooled her victims or the wicked deals for her own benefit. The most popular tale about the Nightmare Weaver is where she helped a female commoner win the heart of a Lord, but then placed a curse of madness on the woman on the day of their wedding, causing her to murder her lover and several others. The Nightmare Weaver did so to get revenge on the Lord for insulting her. There are some places of Eldris where The Nightmare Weaver is also called The Lady of The Tricksters, Woman of the Wicked Heart, or Maethrânná (Lady of Nightmares).
Welcome to the Wardens, Emily! Your application for a PRIEST OC has been accepted with a Amanda Seyfried FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
O O C - I N F O
Name: Emily
Age: 22
Timezone: PDT (UTC -7)
Activity Level: I’ll try to reply to something at least every day! I’ll be most active Friday-Sunday though.
Extra: Nothing
C H A R A C T E R - I N F O
T H E - B A S I C S
Name: Evangelise “Eva” Whitaker
Occupation: Priestess (former); Warden
Gender: Cisgender Female
Age: 23
Class: Priest (Level One)
Height: 5’ 5”
Weight: 123 lbs.
Status: Single
Faceclaim: Amanda Seyfried
C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S
Nationality: Morrish (Southwatch)
Appearance:
A smile is a constant on Eva’s face. She smells of sunshine and the sea, and her face is framed by golden waves of hair. She usually will let her hair hang loose, but she’ll occasionally pull it back in a bun or braid if she is studying or working hard. Her large blue eyes have a dreamy look to them and they give away her thoughts all too easily. Her voice is soft, but clear, and to hear her yell is a rarity. A life lived mostly indoors has left her with fairly pale skin, with no blemishes or scars to speak of. She’s very open, in her movements and expressions, if not a bit distracted. She usually wears dresses of soft blues and yellow made of simple cloth and cut.
Personality:
+ Innovative | Eva loves approaching problems creatively, trying to suss out a solution that’s never been considered before. She wants to fix everything really, be it by healing or creating something new to address the problem. It’s why Eva can easily spend hours locked away reading. She devours books, absorbing as much information as she possibly can. The more she learns, the greater help she can be.
+ Open-minded | It is hard to learn and grow if one closes oneself off to differing viewpoints. Eva tries to take a neutral stance in most things, listening to what others have to say. Everyone knows something that she doesn’t, and she wants to make sure she can learn all she can from others.
+ Excitable | She can easily talk at great length about any of her favorite subjects, especially healing or the Holy Light. Be careful when striking up a conversation with her.
+ Methodical | Due to her nature, Eva keeps an extensive collection of notes and journals. She keeps track of everything, from visions of the future to how many goats she saw on a trip. It helps her organize her thoughts and keep track of things. She has a different journal for just about every topic and is very particular about how the entries are done. This particularness extends to all aspects of her life.
– Morbid | If you’re dedicated to healing aches and ills, it only makes sense that you take a vested interest into the aches and ills that you’re curing. Eva keeps several journals dedicated to the studies of various illnesses and injuries she’s encountered in her travels. And just like her other interests, Eva can talk about oozing and sores for hours as well, much to the distaste of others.
– Easily Flustered | It’s all too easy to overwhelm Eva, and unfortunately for her, blushes are easy to see on such pale skin. She gets wrapped up in her own thoughts all too easily, and this makes her prone to confusion. Sometimes even smelling the floral perfume of a lady walking by can be enough to make her lose her train of thought.
– Absentminded | Unfortunately, with all the ideas and concepts buzzing around her mind Eva can be rather forgetful. The occasional future vision certainly doesn’t help with keeping a clear head either. If she doesn’t write a thought or name down somewhere, she’ll definitely forget it.
– People Pleaser | It kills Eva to say no. She’s trying to break the habit, but life just works so much better when you agree to everything and everyone likes you. This can all too easily lead to Eva being stressed out with the amount of work she’s accepted however.
C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D
History:
Three hundred years ago, the first Rifting began. Three hundred years ago a family traveled from Norvik to Morrelin. The threat the Rifts presented drove them to travel to Eldris to offer whatever help they could. Once the Rift had been sealed away, they decided to stay in the mainland. Nine generations have passed since then. The once small family has now expanded greatly, with most of them living in the island town of Southwatch. While the climate is vastly different from what their ancestors called home, the sea is still the sea. A few members of their family are drawn towards the Holy Light like their ancestors before them; however, most make their livelihood as fishermen.
Some of Eva’s earliest memories are combing the beaches for shells with her brothers and cousins. They would collect them as prizes or as trinkets to be sold by an adult who was going to the mainland. Other childhood memories were less pleasant however. Eva and her older brother would frequently contract painful rashes and have difficulty breathing, usually after playing with the dock cats. It wasn’t long before they weren’t allowed to go to the docks at all. They would still get rashes every now and again, but they weren’t as severe as before. Years passed and the rashes and wheezing finally stopped entirely once Eva turned eight. Although she was now plagued by exhaustion, her and her brother were finally able to play on the docks again with the rest of their siblings and cousins. It wasn’t until Eva stayed home one day, too weak to leave bed, and her brother went to the docks without her, when the rashes and wheezing returned, that the connection was finally made. Eva was gifted with the healing of the element of Light and had been subconsciously healing her brother and herself all this time.
For the next five years she received basic teaching from the family priests and priestesses who would occasionally return to the island for festivals or holidays. She started creating books of her own of all the knowledge that was shared with her so she could better remember it all. On her thirteenth birthday, Eva moved to the Citadel of Light to officially begin her training. She was ecstatic about all the knowledge that was at her fingertips, and all the powerful and influential people she could learn from. Her biggest source of inspiration was Vanáriel Vaewren, who became the youngest Hand of Light at age twenty-five. For a time, Eva aspired to be a Hand of Light as well, but after a particularly harrowing trip in Carn’s Underworld she soon realized that she was more suited towards studying and learning than crusading. So she began working towards becoming a Voice of Light.
For all the knowledge and inspirational work being done at the Citadel though, she would get homesick frequently. It was a month’s ride round trip to return to her home and she had to miss a lot of major family events because of it. She was there for her oldest brother’s first child being born and for her older brother’s wedding. She misses being in Southwatch though. It seemed like every other week someone was getting married or being born and there was always an air of celebration. She loved studying in the Citadel though, and the wealth of knowledge it offered. She just wished it was a little closer to home. It’s part of the reason why being a dreamwalker appeals to her so greatly.
Things changed when Vaná left. The High Mother and High Father were secretive, and neither would give a clear answer as to what reason could have caused the Hand of the Light to leave. There were rumours of course, as there always are in situations as scandalous as this. And while most varied in their tone regarding Vaná, one thread seemed to tie them all together. She had founded a new order of Wardens. Eva was torn. Vaná was, and still is, a massive inspiration to her. But the Citadel must have been keeping her leave secret for good reason, right? Eva had terrible destructive visions during this time, some visions even started tainting her dreams. With the tensions so high in Eldris though, she wasn’t sure what chaotic event they could possibly be foretelling. It wasn’t until news of the destruction of Miwor Town reached the Citadel that Eva immediately left to join the Wardens. She now understood what her visions had been about and she was determined to not let it happen again.
Reason for joining the Wardens:
Her ancestors helped seal the Riftings when they first plagued these lands, and now Eva needs to do the same. She greatly admires Vaná and all she has accomplished. After hearing about the destruction of Miwor Town she wants to help in any way she possibly can.
Desired Connections:
She’s connected to the ex-rogue Thalia as she was part of the group who helped save her life.
She has a huge family so if you want to be related to her, feel free!! Just ask me first of course.
After a long, exhausting battle, the dawn has come. The Wardens’ Netherwalkers directed the burning energies from their runes and blasted the Rift. It was a desperate and united effort to end the nightmare, and eventually the Rift subsided in a flashing crash of magical light.
The sun rose, burning away the fog to reveal a trampled, broken town in its wake. A third of the town had been swallowed by the Rift’s dark, swirling clutches. The entire northern parts of the town are eerily missing, as if they never existed at all, and the surviving townspeople avoid looking in its direction as it only brings a fresh wave of despair.
But the people of Miwor Town are resilient. They have begun the task of healing their hurts. They counted their dead and laid them in the central hall’s crumbling walls. Over a quarter of Miwor’s population was lost in the Netherworld’s attack. Each body was covered with a snowy, white sheet and a single, wildflower – handpicked from the Miwor Fields – rested on each frame.
After the initial shock, the people’s grief turned into fury. How could their High King laugh at their plight and call the Rifting a children’s tale? The Hand of Light had foreseen such destruction but Highwing had done nothing to prepare its people from certain disaster. If the Wardens had not been there to close the Rift, Miwor Town would have vanished from memory and sight into the Netherworld’s grips. A cold, smouldering fury started to circulate throughout the town. The people demanded justice and some even whispered ideas of rebellion.
Braus Derry, Mayor of the Miwor Town, lost his beloved wife – Sally – in the Rifting. He echoes his people’s anger at the High King and had the audacity to label Miwor Town a ‘neutral territory’ from that day onwards. It was a bold move; it would be welcomed by the north, who have been eager to escape from Highwing’s influence and become independent, but it would undoubtedly be received with fury from the High King.
A frenzied focus has enveloped the town. The people are eager to rebuild and to survive. They are flocking around the Wardens – who have quickly become their new leaders, in their eyes – for safety and for the chance of having a future.
However, the Wardens know that the Rifting has only begun. More Rifts will gradually awaken across Eldris and their Netherwalkers will need to be protected as they stop the Netherworld’s invasions. With the Miwor people rejecting the High King’s power and allying themselves under the Wardens, it is only a matter of time until civil war and political disaster strikes all…
Li’ora: literally, beautiful heaven; graceful sky in Renorn
Lore submitted by: @priestoftheshadows
There is a saying within the southern tribes of the Narfeni that to be blessed by the Brilliant Lady is to be touched by the hand of light itself. The legend goes that hundreds of years before Arden Skoldin discovered the Islands, the people that lived there were much the same as they are today. They were a mainly peaceful people, particularly invested in seafaring and trading amongst the tribes, of which there was a single chieftain for each of the, then, small tribes, numbering twelve in total. The politics of the Islands was a crude system, the very beginning of what is today known as the Golden Summit, and the disagreements held between the chieftains there often resulted in the useless deaths of many men, their women, and their children.
It was into this world that a young Li’ora El-Amin was born. Her family was one steeped in poverty, her father having very little luck in the way of trade. His mercantile business was a humble one, kept afloat by the workings of he, his wife, and their five children, elder siblings to Li’ora and names, sadly, lost to the Island’s memory. Li’ora’s birth was the last for her mother, for she would pass into the Balance bringing her daughter into the world. Her father, though saddened greatly by his wife’s death, felt this grief to be overshadowed by the child who would become woven into the very fabric of the Islands’ history.
Born with a shock of pure white hair, Li’ora was doted upon by her father, a simple man who believed her coloring to be a sign from the Balance, a great thing that would manifest in this little girl who laughed often and grew so quickly at the hands of her siblings. She was a curious child, eager to learn, quick to jump to any challenge placed before her and, when she looked at you, her eyes spoke of stories she should have been much too young to witness, but witness them she had, all the same. Li’ora was a small child and grew to be a small woman, her size a direct relation to her mother’s stock. Her diminutive size, however, was not something to deter her and, as would be common traits found in all those given her blessing, she was clever and possessed a quick wit, using these attributes to make up for her small stature.
Despite her humble upbringings, Li’ora craved understanding and, above all things, knowledge. When she was old enough to come out from beneath the protection of her father’s house Li’ora would complete a pilgrimage that spanned the rest of her years, going from her home Island of Bujan in the south into the northernmost reaches of the Islands, settling and eventually dying in Az’zynia. It was on these travels that she learned much of the teachings that would become the basis for the Oracles, later on. Li’ora believed it her duty to learn and to share what she had been taught to her people, believing that each Island could learn from one another, thus making her impartiality a great feat for a tribal community whose leaders often disagreed about many, often trivial, things. It was this impartiality that moved the tribal heads to call upon her in times of great strife and hardship, hoping that her forethought and, even, her healing could mend the broken bonds within the tribes.
She owed much to the elderly wise men and women of the isles and, as repayment, she shared her gifts of foresight and healing with their grandchildren, the first of their kind to be blessed by the Brilliant Lady and rumored to be the foundation for the greatly revered Oracles. Because of her immense knowledge, it is thought to be believed that the Balance granted Li’ora a long life, one which she passes onto her Children through her blessings, as well as those who began to exhibit similar gifts as she had early in her youth. Though most are no longer born with her shock of white hair, those rare few are revered by the Narfeni as holy, believing them to be capable of great things and, thus, to be protected at all costs.
Though Li’ora no longer walks in this realm, it has been a rumored believed whispered for many years by the elderly ones that, if you are lucky, she may guide you in your dreams, a bright light in the darkness of this existence. In the times of strife and panic that loom on the horizon, belief in Li’ora has reemerged in the Exotic Islands from the cracks and crevices of time, in hiding for so long that if one were to hear her story in Eldris they’d believe her to be only a mirage, a figment of a feeble mind and too much drink.
| Narfeni Islands | World Map | RP Plot | Open Characters |
Welcome to the Wardens, Lash! Your application for a ROGUE OC has been accepted with a Katherine Winnick FC.
The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!
O O C - I N F O
Name: Lash
Age: 24
Timezone: Eastern
Activity Level: I am free for the summer!
Extra: (Specific triggers or any important information here)
C H A R A C T E R - I N F O
T H E - B A S I C S
THE RISEN
Name: Thalia Yadira
Gender: Female
Age: 30
Class: Rogue
I have a come up with some lore on the Dark Union training that states there are certain parts of the process in which members can be rejected. Thalia was marked twice before failing her trial. This does not banish or exile her from the Dark Union but she left in shame to follow her savior to the Wardens.
Faceclaim: Katherine Winnick
Nationality: Norvik mother, Carnish Father
Appearance:
Thalia is riddled with scars across her knuckles and hands form brawling with any man who thought they could touch her. She is very beautiful by Norvik standards and her Carnish roots can only be detected internally. She is cold and unfeeling, having never been afforded the loving embrace of any single soul around her. She doesn’t want to be loved or touched or held, at least that is the façade she assumes.
Thalia loves the color blue and the feel of brand new leather boots. When she was very young she was found to possess a strange affinity for the shadow elements. Being from Norvik and Carnish decent, and an orphan; she decided to pursue the affinity in the Underworld. The environment proved to be as harsh as the name entailed.
Before she could pass the appropriate trials she was injured severely. The wound took many days to heal and if not for the Priest in the city she would have died. The scar is grizzly to behold and few ever have the pleasure of seeing it. The rough puckered flesh, a tale-tale sign of fatal wounds, sprawls across her chest just below her breasts. The sword gashed her open so critically that she did, for a moment, pass on to the next life. The nightmares she has as a result of that experience has been difficult to bear. It has separated her from all manner of interaction and relationships. Thalia keeps to herself as if she lacks the confidence to be anything more than
Thalia lacks confidence after her near death experience. She does still hold true to her Norvik attitude but it can sometimes come across as trying to hard or false bravado. When she stares at someone with a look of pure hatred it is simply her own views of her self-worth projected onto the world around her. She doesn’t feel like she can be loved or have the capacity to love another person.
Personality:
Negative: angry, critical, and ashamed
Anger from failure
Critical from pressure
And ashamed of herself
Positive: Determined, Careful, Adaptive
Determined to rise above
Careful to stay alive
Adaptive of her surroundings
History:
Thalia has always been the odd one out. Her mother, a Norvik and her father the Carnish assassin. It was certainly interesting to watch her mother and father’s wills collide. He left them in the Norvik countryside after it became too dangerous to be a part of their lives. Her mother found another, a good-hearted Norvik who treated Thalia like his own. It was now something she recalled with bitter longing, her mother and step-father were both taken from her, murderered with her baby sister. She was the only survivor in the household, or at least she assumed. Now that she is older she understands what sacrifices her father made to keep the family safe and together. He disbanded from the Dark Union and lived in Norvik with her and her mother, even formally pledged themselves as husband and wife. Her father was a good man but he was also a rivalry for the Dark Union’s strict code. He had been inside their ranks, knew their secrets, and he let it all go. He wanted to live peacefully with his family but the Dark Union could never allow the threat to exist. He left to keep them safe and yet her mother and step father were killed and fourteen year old Thalia was taken to live with her father’s relatives in the depths of Carn.
Perhaps it was the darkness of the underworld that kindled the shadow affinity inside of her, or simply her father’s genetics rising to the surface at the perfect time. Thalia was now one of the few children to be selected to vie for the title of the Prodigy. She was branded with the hot iron symbol. It hurt badly but she said nothing to protest in front of the crowd who gathered. Norvik stubbornness was what it really amounted to. Thalia took it like a grown man. Many boys found her to be attractive for it too, however she found herself disinterested in relationships. She never felt pretty or lovable.
She was then Shadow Bonded to a great mentor. This mentor was the rival to the Poisoner. Thalia loved to hear the stories about their killing competitions. She found it funny that one could argue over such trivial matters as killing reputation. Her mentor taught her all the skill she could ever want to be a successful assassin but her failure was fated.Thalia was injured just before the final marking. This resulted in a failed trial, a shame to her family and to herself. She was nearly killed and all could see was the disappointment on her aunt and uncles faces. The wound had actually killed her briefly. She was revived with lasting side effects. This is a secret she keeps to herself. She can hear voices and sense the dead around her. It frightens her terribly.
The only redemption she can hope for is to please her mentor. Perhaps they might take her back if she brought them the head of the poisoner on a platter. Thalia doubts she could even bring herself to take the life needlessly. She is not nearly as ruthlessly blunt as she pretends to be. Deep down she is a fragile little girl longing for love and affection.
Reason for joining the Wardens:
Thalia has been down a dark depressing road. She isn’t even sure if she is skilled enough to be Rogue, however, she is determined to lift herself from the ashes and continue her training with or without the help of the Dark Union. She has joined the Wardens to redeem herself and become the powerful woman that she knows she can be. This will ultimately lead to confrontation with the poisoner but when push comes to shove, how far will Thalia go?
Desired Connections:
VALTYRA VAANHANEN (The Poisoner)
Thalia’s shadow bonded mentor was the rival of the poisoner. Thalia knows what she looks like but they have never met. She plans to try and win back her reputation by gifting her old mentor the assassins head on a plate.
PRIEST – (Whoever wants this or an NPC)
A priest saw her dying in the underworld after winning a sword duel. The priest was moved to act despite the repercussions it might have and they saved her life. Most likely a younger female given the sympathy they must have felt for the dying girl.
Most of these connections would be old acquaintances your character met on a passing trip (which you can determine with the other player, a comrade in the same faction and so on.)
R O L E P L A Y - S A M P L E
The blades were hot, glowing a sickening orange with each revolution. The swings were powerful but she blocked them all in straining defiance. Her own blades, ice cold steel, were no match for the opponent before her. She was an orphan and she could not afford better weaponry like this older child before her. Thalia had forgotten why they had come to blows, probably her smart mouth. The boy swung around again with his heated steel. Thalia jumped back just as the point sliced a sliver of her armor loose. She cursed as it fell to the floor with a thump. It was her leather breast plate, not that it could stop the Hell Blade. Sher wanted this to end. She couldn’t outrun him or stand up to the strength of his weapon. She tried to counter move but he smacked her blade aside and it shattered to pieces; weaponless and fearless she faced him with the hilt and remaining pieces of her steel. His sickening smile was likening unto a cat that had a mouse cornered against the wall, waiting for the gratification of her desperate trembling.
Thalia was not going to give him an inch because he would take a mile. She stood straight mouthed, broken blade leveled at his eyes. He muttered something in an ancient tongue as he looked to his mentor for approval. Thalia’s mentor had slipped into the cloak of shadows as the fight became too much to watch. He did adore his apprentice but her skill against this advanced pupil had shamed him. Thalia looked back at the boy who had begun a more careless advance toward her. His footing was more forceful and confident given her lack of weaponry. Thalia calculated the distance in her head. He was too close but she needed him closer. She thrust her blade just as he swung his and everything went black.
The boy lay mere inches from her own body with her crippled blade lodged deep into his chest, dead. Thalia could feel herself growing lighter and her vision blurring. No one would win this fight. She brought her hand to her chest. The blood was too thick, the wound too deep. She gasped and coughed while a crowd formed around her. The last one to die was the winner but their eyes shed no tears and their mouths echoed not with praise for her desperate kill. Thalia laid alone and cold in a mingled mess of blood. Her skin was charred form the burnt blades blow.
She looked up just before her vision blurred too much to see. A radiant aura seemed to push through the crowd. Thalia lost her consciousness soon after but she did not lose the visions of darkness. Demons grabbing her, the dead whispering inside her head from everywhere and nowhere; Thalia was dead for an eternity before she shot up from a fur lined mattress. “What the hell!” She gasped and felt her bare chest for blood but there was nothing aside from a grizzly scar. “What did you do?” She closed the distance between herself and the figure standing at the brightly lit window. Her voice was full of the exclamation of fear, the unknown. “I saved your life. Try to show more respect.”
