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Ask to Join The Gates of Stars & Storms - Fantasy Hero RP

Discussion in 'General Role Play Discussion' started by Dark Soul, Dec 14, 2019.

  1. Hello, friends. It's been a while!

    I'm constantly looking to RP, but rarely inspired to create my own, so I've taken the chance to create this melting pot of ideas I've had for a fantasy-focused RP and structure it into something you people will love being a part of!

    I’ve noticed a number of recurring themes in popular RPs on this board (kingdoms, mages, fantastical races) and I’ll include my own variations of those, in the hope of crafting a well put together story. Without further ado, here's some information on the world, the player races and the player classes! More information and some imagery will be added at a later date, but I do hope this will be enough for you to build a character- feel free to take some creative freedoms long as they don't contradict the lore!

    A few ground rules;
    1. I aim to keep this RP alive and well; Please only join if you're sure you won't abandon ship and stop posting after a while. I get that we have busy lives- me included- and I won't harrow you every day, or anything, but taking some initiative would mean the world to me.
    2. Reasonable writing ability is expected. Don't let that scare you if you're not overly experienced; long as you have a good grasp of grammar/spelling/punctuation, and can make reasonable in-character choices, we'll be fine!
    3. Standard 'Charms rules apply. No godmodding, making choices for other characters, no Mary Sue's- the usual stuff you should already be familiar with. In fact, it's fun to play a character with serious shortcomings rather than many strengths- challenge yourself!
    Feel free to read through the lore below, then make use of the bio-template and reply!
    I'm incredibly looking forward to seeing your characters!

    ~~~
    There are as many fables surrounding the birth of the world (named Iodagoth in the traders’ tongue) as there are tribes and civilizations, flavoured to fit those who tell them best, but most agree on several principles;

    Once existed only chaos, untamable and unstoppable, and order, immaculate and whole.

    Their very nature forced the two to war endlessly through existence, but where they clashed was formed the Between, the culmination of their mixing; Life, unbound and independent, and the light, the ground, the air and water it needed. Guided both by structure and chance, life spread to every corner of the world, consuming in being consumed in cyclic harmony.

    When some began to Speak, they shared ideas, forming greater wholes with their kin, and through this they built better, hunted better, farmed, wrote and traded- killed better, made war, made peace, then war again. Some sought the power of the One or the Other, the order or chaos, even sought to help whichever side granted them that power win. By the two most thus favoured races were built the Gates of Stars and the Gates of Storms, leading from the Between to the Battle. The races that passed through were never heard from again, though the Gates still hang over Iodagoth silent.


    Iodagoth is thought to be a globe in shape due to how ships are seen going below the horizon, but none of the Speaking Races know how far the land stretches in certain directions, nor whether there are greater lands undiscovered beyond the sea. To the west are long stretches of rocky coasts, but if one travels east, a forest stretches on that no one has found an end to- not even its inhabitants. There’s no end to the variety of landscapes or the life that fills them, from the frigid north down to scalding stretches of sand in the south, and between those, grassy plains, lush jungles, hills and mountains.

    Though conflicts have arisen over resources and ideologies, the most prolific of the Speaking Races are currently at tentative peace with one another.This was helped in no small part by an influx of commerce, guilds and the trader’s tongue, a language cobbled together from every race’s own to ease communication, now spoken in many metropolitan cities and by officials.

    • The Tavalin
    Though they’re unlikely to admit it, other races consider the Tavalin the least striking; No horns, fangs, claws or scales are found on their bodies, which have the same variance in colours as Iodagoth’s many kinds of soil. They are, however, numerous, and through the eons have settled every corner of the world. Tavalin were the founders of the first trading and crafters’ guilds and still conduct the most commerce of all the race. Despite their unassuming physique they are not to be underestimated as fighters; they possess great stamina and resolve. The archaic Tavalin word for their kin is “Human”.

    • The Neithe
    For the other races, a primal response to a Neithe’s appearance might be to shy away or stiffen, though many have grown used to them in peacetime. Possessive of four horns, one greater and one smaller on either side of the head, blank eyes, leathery skin in a palette of muted colours with luminescent spots, clawed fingertips and a usual height between six and seven feet, it’s perhaps no surprise the clans of the Neithe were once treated with great caution. The Neithe aren’t known to be aggressive in nature, though, but rather contemplative and considerate. If working outside of their semi-isolationist clans, many of the Neithe are conscripted as guards or mercenaries, as they excel in strength and durability.

    • The Karune
    The smallest of all the races, topping out at three feet, Karune bear a striking resemblance to animals like the housecat, the fox or another, depending on heritage- a comparison that most Karune resent, lest they not be taken seriously. Dextrous and analytical, the Karune make some of the finest craftspeople and deceivingly effective fighters. Unlike animals they walk on hind legs, but their bodies are covered in fine fur and their relatively larger ears are perched atop their heads. Most find their home in the endless forest of the east, but others are found on the wastes, and many now carve out productive lives in rapidly growing cities.

    • The Suleli
    Known primarily as scholars and mystics, the Suleli’s dispositions are often as bright as their complexion. Covered in intricate chitinous plates, their bodies bear vivid and contrasting colours, such as teal and orange or sea-blue and ruby. Especially striking is their crown of diamond-shaped plates from which, as from their elbows, feather-like appendages grow. Unless marred by misfortune they possess sunny temperaments, with which they were the first to truly engage and make relations with the Neithe. They are neither gullible or incapable of malice, however, and though they lack durability they are swift on their feet and precise. They are unfettered by temperature and make their homes on high mountains or in oases.

    • Slayer
    Iodagoth is a world fraught with dangers even in peacetime; many creatures that stalk the land possess greater size, strength or numbers than any of the Speaking Races and do not hesitate to make them their next meal. The Slayers are the answer. Whether they defend the tribe they belong to, or are for hire to anyone who’s affected, Slayers risk their lives to take on quarries whom they are outclassed but not outmatched by, from mere packs of wolves to grown dragons, and all else that is wild and threatens society. Many fight from range, with bows or the Karune’s crossbows, but some trust their fleetness and fighting skill enough to get close and personal. The Slayer is also a master of traps such as snares, knows the remedies and poisons that nature provides, and how to track their quarry wherever they walk. Some even manage to bond with and train creatures, making them into close allies.

    • Militant
    Unlike the Slayer, a Militant’s quarry is their kin- or another of the speaking races; they might be a township’s guard, a travelling mercenary, hunter of outlaws or merely a well-armed do-gooder, but they are in all cases dangerous. In the tighter confines of cities these fighters depend on their mastery of one- or twohanded weapons, but elsewhere they might pick up a bow or crossbow with equal ease, and they are wont to pick up a shield. A well-trained and experienced Militant is unmatched in raw physical power and places themselves stalwartly between their foe and those they protect. Those who wear heavy armour are best protected against blade or arrow, but also at a disadvantage when their quarry is more agile.

    • Chaote
    There are those who pledge themselves to the ideals of Chaos, and in doing so are rewarded with a sliver of the power possessed by that faction of the Battle. The abilities to decay matter, rend flesh and steel, combust or unmake are theirs, and for this destructive potential some are shunned, even hunted, but only few Chaotes are bent on death and dismantlement of society. They can just as well clear land for the expansion of cities, dissolve the poison in an ally’s bloodstream, fight monsters and whoever else threatens their people’s existence. What can be said of Chaotes is that most are free-fought spirits, headstrong, bold and willing to skirt the rules if the need arises. As with all skills the affinity to their powers grows as they train, and most vital is their ability to keep control lest they hurt others accidentally. To free their hands for casting, few carry weapons.

    • Mandator
    In polar opposition to the Chaote, the Mandator pledges that all things should follow structure and is granted powers if they dedicate their lives to making it so. Most are known to be meticulous, prim and rigorously disciplined, perhaps thought of as finnicky or controlling. The applications of their abilities are as varied as the Chaote’s; to repair what was broken, to restore wounded bodies, to defend from damage- but beyond the restorative and defensive lie powers that kill if needed, ranging from blasts of harrowing light to obstructive growths of pure crystal. In their training, Mandators stay introspective and must not waver from their ideals, but not all lead joyless or unexciting lives. Like Chaotes they rarely wield weaponry.

    • Thaumaturge
    Not all who begin the training for Chaote or Mandator finish it. Years of training and constant dedication are too harsh a fate for some, while others feel that to propagate life, Chaos and Order must both be utilized, and so the powers they receive never grow to their fullest potential. These rare individuals are given a unique chance, however; what power they possess they can learn to channel through the weapons they depend on, most commonly a firmly held blade, and their bodies. By weaving together the art of skillful combat and that of magic they make more varied fighters than Militants, able to inflict extra damage with their weapons or heal themselves to some small degree. Some are even said to infuse their fists, harden their skin and brawl.

    • Diplomat
    A diplomat won’t be seen on the front lines of a battle, but more likely in the back, giving direction and encouragement and only swinging a weapon if they must. They may not be trained to fight and kill, but they may be trained as commanders, envoys or merchants, and their use lies in their ability to smooth the proceedings of what one wants to achieve, supply tactical advice, draw up plans and convince whoever to aid them. Diplomats can afford to go without martial or magical skill because they’re shrewd enough to surround themselves with individuals with those abilities, or because they can talk themselves out of any bind. Not all in life is won with bloodied blades or mystical powers, and a good Diplomat can be invaluable to any group.

    The Gates are massive structures resembling thick segmented rings in shape, hanging untethered in the sky, six in total; the three Gates of Storms hang over the sea yet close to the coast, each hundreds of miles apart, while the three Gates of Stars hang over the central mountains, equally spaced.

    Even on closest approach their architecture is alien. The Gates of Stars consist of many segments, right angles, metals unknown in nature, awash with lines of white light. The Gates of Storms look almost organic in nature, like wreaths of many-hued branches, behind which every colour glows and pulses.

    To describe their very size is difficult, but if laid on its side any of the gates could hold a city of great size in its centre, and it is natural to assume that if any fell, the destruction would be unrivaled. How they stay aloft and unmoving is unknown, as is practically anything about them.

    Name:
    Gender:
    Age:
    Height:
    Weight:
    Hair:
    Eyes:
    Clothing:
    Identifying Marks:
    Musculature:
    Personality:
    Skills:
    Flaws:
    History:
     
  2. Mr.RMA

    Mr.RMA Magearna before it was cool

    Tavalin Militant

    Name: Gareth Spector

    Gender: Male

    Age: 19

    Height: 6’3

    Weight: 200 lbs

    Hair: Light brown

    Eyes: Dark brown

    Clothing: Wears the uniform of his city’s guard; This consists of a black waistcoat, red-brown wool jacket and trousers, a darker brown greatcoat, and black buckle boots. Said uniforms supposedly were tailored specifically for the chilly northern climate, and they were made with fabrics that are commonly at the disposal of those who live there, either via trade or from their own resources. A lack of armor comes from the notion that the guards are trained to be agile, quick to both strike and dodge, and therefore it was considered only a hindrance to add anything so bulky that might limit movement.

    Identifying Marks: A noticeable horizontal scar runs along his left cheek

    Musculature: For a time, he didn’t exactly have much in line of impressive muscle, but his tenure under a rigorous training regimen has made him much more physically fit.

    Personality: Ambitious, but unmotivated. Gareth certainly has a desire to see more than what his enclosed little world has offered him so far, but he doesn’t really seem to have the drive to make things happen that would fulfill such a goal. He’s most productive when there’s someone to give him orders, directing him along. If given that sort of structure, he is much more likely to accomplish what is set out before him. Essentially, he prefers that someone else thinks before he acts.

    His attitude towards the other speaking races is one of cautious fascination, knowing very little about them beyond the simpler information that is generally common knowledge. Few ever visit his hometown, barring the occasional traders and merchants, who were often as quick to leave as they would arrive. He would love to get to know representatives of these diverse folk, but there’s always that concern of saying or doing the wrong thing in their presence. Gareth is not one to offend if he can help it.

    Skills: Took to swordsmanship almost immediately out of the gate, specifically with infantry saber combat. Though still relatively new to the art, he has proven skilled enough to earn a spot as a member of the city guard (however unwittingly). His time there has made him an apt militant, and, once pointed in the right direction, he’s able to get a lot of stuff done in a day’s work. Though lacking worldly experience, he’s nonetheless decently well read regarding Iodagoth’s more relevant points.

    Flaws: Aside from the drawbacks of living a generally sheltered life with only minimal work ethic, Gareth also has an aversion towards archery, stemmed from an incident where a stray arrow grazed the side of his face at a field range. Along with this, his dependency on having orders to follow can leave him in a hopeless spot rather quickly if forced to make those decisions for himself.

    History: The Spector family is situated in a small but affluent Tavalin community up north. Many of the people there live hardnosed lives, striving to keep the city safe and comfortable in their frigid environment. They’re nonetheless a hospitable group, but few visitors stay long; the somewhat isolated town is both a hazard to get in and out of if you don’t time your journey well, for many monstrous creatures roam the roads that lead there. Even with a slayer or two, the fewer obstacles the better, but the days and hours in which the fewest creatures dwell near these parts are very particular. This is to say nothing of the times when the area is ravaged by fierce snowstorms as well.

    The Spector patriarch, Thomas Spector, is a fairly prominent banker for the city, bringing in enough profit for his family to live a life of particular comfort. Unfortunately, his only son Gareth, spoiled by the luxuries his family were able to afford, grew up somewhat lackadaisically without any real plans for his future. When his years of schooling came to an end, one thing was certain, he wouldn’t be heading for success in his father’s career. His mother, Sheridan, a librarian by trade, attempted to encourage Gareth by lending him books of various trades, but few of them seemed to really harness his attention. However, to some degree of consolation, that time he spent reading did give him a greater appreciation for what the outside world was like, and a spark of desire to adventure was lit, but he still needed some kind of push to keep it from fizzling out.

    A day came when Gareth noticed a series of flyers plastered all throughout the town. A swordsmanship training program was opening up for any interested in applying. Having little else to do, figuring it might be interesting, Gareth signed up. After a few days of familiarizing himself with a saber, he proved a natural. Taking great joy in finding something he was good at that could occupy his time, he continued to go to the training sessions. As each week went by however, he noticed that he was constantly being placed in increasingly smaller groups of students who were being scheduled to train at a different time from the others. When he asked why this was the case, he was simply told they were attempting to rank those of the bunch with the highest prospects. Had he bothered to ask about the ultimate purpose of such a process, he likely would’ve realized just what he had actually gotten himself into before it was too late…

    From a starting group of at least a hundred students, Gareth’s peers had dwindled to about a dozen. It was here, upon being handed a uniform and being told to arrive at the military base the next day before dawn, that he realized just what he’d actually signed up for. This wasn’t just a training program; this was a tryout process… The city had lost a number of its guards to age or untimely demises in the last few years, and new blood was needed to keep the regiment alive. Thanks to his apparent failure to read between the lines, and his outstanding fencing ability, Gareth was now one of those new recruits.

    What followed was a brutal several months of training, Gareth finally being pushed to work hard, certainly much harder than he’d ever worked before by any means… yet, to his own complete shock, he didn’t hate it. Oh, the physical work was a nightmare at times and he could count the nights where he wasn’t completely exhausted on one hand, but he was finally gaining that sense of direction. For that matter, with all the exercise he was undertaking, the results were really beginning to show. He was healthier than he’d ever been. He had to admit, much as getting roped into the service had been a complete mistake on his part, it was proving a very fruitful mistake indeed.

    Sometime after the training regimen stopped and Gareth was fully brought into the guard ranks, he was assigned a mission. Inclement weather had struck the area around the city at increasingly numerous times of inconvenience, leaving few merchants capable or willing to brave the dangerous route to conduct their usual business. The city’s economy had taken a hit from this, and they needed to take the initiative and send merchants of their own throughout Iodagoth if they wanted to avoid facing a devastating depression. One of these merchant parties was bringing Gareth along to help ensure their safe travels. For the first time he would be leaving his home and seeing more of Iodagoth for himself. He’d gotten that push, now the question was just where it would ultimately lead him.
     
  3. Karune Mandator

    Name: Ri’an Fennek

    Gender: male

    Age: 22

    Height: 2’8”

    Weight: 40 lbs

    Hair: white, cream, and orange tones throughout his fur

    Eyes: amber

    Clothing: a red robe with a white sash, black undershirt and black trousers.

    Identifying Marks: the tip of his left ear is missing

    Musculature: lean and thin, he has little by way of physical strength, making up for it with agility and the powers of order from his Mandator training.

    Personality: anxious and shifty, his attentiveness is always peaked, constantly on the lookout for danger. Self concerned and interested in preserving his life as long as possible, he finds it difficult to trust others as he is distrustful towards any new people he encounters. Extremely organized externally, despite his internal neurosis, everything in his appearance is deliberate and put together, and all his belongings have their place. Has a tendency to panic if something goes missing or becomes disorderly.

    Skills: Took to Mandator life easily, though entering into such a strict training regimen at a young age affected his personality, he quickly became adept at healing and attacking with the power of Order.

    Flaws: The strict ideals implanted in him during his Mandator training affected his personality, causing him to be very obsessive over maintaining order in his life.

    History: He entered Mandator training at a very young age, as he had no other prospects and no family to care for him. The monastery that lay at the center of his home town, carved into the trunk of an enormous tree whose canopy provided shelter to the town, took him in and began his training. He was taught the importance of order, structure, and discipline. He was also taught the dangers of Chaos and that he would be a force for the Order that Iodagoth so desperately needed. He took the words to heart and began showing promise as a Mandator shortly after.

    Though he gained abilities and purpose, he had been robbed of the chance to be a child and experience the world firsthand, he began to fear what lay beyond the safety of the temple and the town. He became obsessed with keeping order in his everyday life. His room became the epitome of cleanliness and organization, his clothing was always immaculate and his powers continued to grow. Some within the temple thought that he could eventually become the head of the temple when the current head retired. Then on the eve of his twenty-second birthday, disaster struck.

    As he went into the office of his master, he heard the sounds of a struggle. He hurried into the room and saw a hooded stranger removing a blade from his master’s stomach, Ri’an looked right into his master’s eyes as the life left them. What happened next Ri’an couldn’t say, he blacked out and when he awoke, he was clasped in irons and being blamed for the murder of his master. Since his abilities were so highly regarded, as his punishment he was sentenced to serve as a prison healer in a city outside of the forest. Suddenly Ri’an’s entire life had been upheaved and he sat in the back of a jailers cart, blankly staring at the passing forest as he was being carted away from the only home he had ever known and toward his uncertain future.
     
    #3 Chadwyck, Dec 16, 2019
    Last edited: Dec 16, 2019
  4. Looks interesting. I want to make a slayer or chaote for this. Question though, what is
    ? Is it something like selling your soul to satan or something else entirely?
     
    Mihoko-chan likes this.
  5. Thanks for your question! It's not like selling your soul to the devil, though there are rituals involved to expand your mind that differ for every culture. The essence of it is that you work to further the goals of chaos, as you will feel a strong urge to, and by following that urge you receive greater power. Of course, at the same time, you have to be careful not to lose control of yourself.
     
    Spoiled Bread likes this.
  6. Name: Ricotobi Ricomaya
    Gender: female
    Age: 24

    Height: 5'4
    Weight: 125 lbs
    Hair: shoulder-length pale blonde hair. Rico isn't particularly interested in taking care of her hair so it looks rather unkempt, especially after she camp out in the wild for days.
    Eyes: black
    Skin: brown

    Clothing: Rico wears a brown cloak over her hunting jacket. Over her head is a sedge hat that she only wears when riding her dodobo. She carries a pouch on her left hip and a pair of binoculars hanging from her neck.

    Musculature: small but solid.

    Personality: Rico is a carefree person, retaining her nomadic lifestyle even though she's not in her tribe anymore. When dealing with monsters, she's very cautious due to the hunting philosophy from her tribe still ingrained in her head. She likes to collect money but doesn't like to spend it.

    Skill: Rico is good at keeping herself alive in the wilderness. From cooking with limited indgredients, tracking her target, to taking down monster with enough preparation. During a hunt, she's able to employ various weapons and execute a hit and run tactic with the help of her dodobo.

    Flaws:
    She's not extremely proficient at any particular weapon and thus she's not suited for a one on one direct combat.

    History:
    Hailing from Distant South, the southern most area currently mapped. Rico lived in a nomadic tribe that make hunting as its main food source. She has been trained on how to hunt some of the monsters living in the desert and avoid the other since young and is especially good at hunting the giant desert crab.

    One of the thing a respected hunter from the tribe must have is a dodobo, a flightless bird that is big enough to be used as a mount. While dodobo is usually granted by the chief to the best hunter in the tribe, Rico accidentally got herself one when a stray hatchling suddenly start following her. She took a liking to it and named the hatchling Juju.

    Of course according to the tribe's rules Rico shouldn't have a dodobo. Didn't want her new friend taken, she then fled away from her tribe by joining a passing merchant. The merchant agreed to let Rico ride with him, but he still requires some payment that Rico didn't have, so she ended up working under the merchant as an assisstant. This introduce her to a whole new world. New scenery, new people, new food!

    She worked with the merchant for a good two years before she quitted and become slayer for hire. Since used to little to no payment during her time working under the merchant, she has great appreciation for money and tends to spent as little as possible.

    Name: Juju
    Age: 4
    Gender: male
    Species: dodobo, a flightless bird that is big enough to be used as a mount. The domesticated dodobo has shorter legs compared to the wild one that give them more stability when being mounted.
    Appearance: Juju's overall body shape looks like a big yellow chicken, but with long neck and sharp narrow beak. He has plenty of fat underneath his skin. A saddle is strapped on his back and he also carries several sacks on his side. He also has a sedge hat on his head.
     
    Dark Soul likes this.

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