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Fantasy Into the Wastes

Cashdash25

The Proletariat Robot
"Long ago this land was called Acadir, now they just call it the wastes. See, this place used to be a thriving set of kingdoms, the people were rich and healthy, the kings were fair and just, life was easy in the kingdoms of Acadir. Now look at it, where there were once cities now stand ruins, where there was forests there's now wasteland, where there used to be people there's now graves, hell, even the animals are gone, replaced with magically warped monstrosities and packs of the damn Drakebloods. Anyone who goes in there is a dead man walking, anyone dumb enough to live on the outskirts isn't much better off. You want my advice? Run, run as fast as you can and get away while you still have all of your limbs."


Narrative fantasy roleplay for four to eight players, players will be taking the part of mercenaries hired to escort a mysterious employer into a magically devastated badlands. Thus ends the concise outline.


Gameplay will largely consist of players traveling through the Wastes, defending their employer from the local wildlife and astral phenomena with a heavy emphasis on character interaction and development.


Character Sheet;


Name:


Gender:


Age:


Race:


Appearance:


Personality:


Equipment:


History:


The only requirements are that players commit to being able to regularly post, maintain a readable level of grammar and spelling, refrain from using fancy formatting on their posts and enjoy themselves. Feel free to ask any questions you may have.





  • The earliest known records of Human habitation in the Acadir region date from the early 15,000s EC, when a group of researchers from the city of Eshan made contact with a number of primitive tribes of hunter-gatherers. The details of the Eshani uplifting of the early Human civilizations are well recorded elsewhere, suffice to say that they were able to successfully convert the Human tribes from Hunter-Gatherer's whose most significant technological advancement was the discovery of flint knapping into a collection of thriving kingdoms in a period of around 1,000 years.


    By 16,500 EC the Humans had been developed into eight small, but wealthy and peaceful, nations;


    Akan


    Ter


    Micara


    Vica


    Ysiv


    Icad


    Toj


    and Ordanal, these nations benefited well from an early introduction to the concepts of diplomacy and equality. Raising large and thriving mercantile and artisanal classes. The Human kingdoms traded goods far and wide, using a large share of the profits to raise the living standard of the labor class, crime and warfare were practically nonexistent. Obviously something had to go wrong.


    Three events marked the fall of Human civilization, the first event occurred in the year 17,000 EC. The events of the Dragon War are well recorded elsewhere, suffice to say that at its conclusion the surviving dragons felt it necessary to migrate, one such dragon, Azzathus the Bloody One, elected to migrate to Acadir. Azzathus proceeded to do as dragons do and rampage across Human territory, utterly devastating the defenseless kingdoms. The Elven city of Eshan came to the aid of the Humans, teaching them the ways of the warrior caste. The combined Human and Elven forces were able to defeat Azzathus after more than seventy years of senseless slaughter. The effects of Azzathus' attack were severe, the Human settlements were devastated, there wealth was gone, there cities damage beyond repair. Our people helped where we could but the damage was simply too much. Additionally, the Humans suddenly found themselves with an abundance of warriors and no means by which to pay them. Thus, desperate for resources, the Human kingdoms abandoned the diplomacy and equality the Elves taught them and turned upon each other. Massacring thousands more of their own in the wake of the terror of Azzathus' assault.


    The second event took place forty five years after the death of Azzathus. Details on this era are unclear, but from what we have been able to gather it seems a Human sorcerer was somehow able to infuse himself and his minions with the power of Azzathus, theories on how this was accomplished are far to varied to start listing. The important part is that this turned himself and his followers into what the Human's call "Drakebloods", the sorcerer indeed gained the power of the dragon, however he also gained its unquenchable greed and insatiable lust for violence. Acadir was further plunged into warfare and chaos as the Drakebloods launched their attack upon the surviving Humans. In desperation the Humans rallied together, but even their combined efforts were not enough to best their foes, and so they did what is popularly considered to be the single worst thing they could have done: They paid the Dwarves for their military techniques.


    And just like that the Humans were able to turn themselves from a loose collection of warriors into an army. Two hundred years after the Drakebloods rose the Humans scattered them to the wind, which of course leads us to our third event.


    It was the year 17,315 EC, three years after Humanity was able to defeat the Drakebloods and scatter them across Acadir. The Demon Lord Cazathar and his legion simultaneously possessed over two thirds of Humanity's battlemages, the slowly rebuilding Human's were once again plunged into a massive war, a war big enough to draw in armies from nearly every city of every civilized race, and more than a few outskirt tribes as well. Estimates place the death toll between ten and fifteen percent of the world's population. Details on what actually occurred are even scarcer than that of the Drakeblood's rise, but at the end of it all Cazathar and his forces were defeated and banished. The devastation however, remained. The land of Acadir was utterly ruined, turned into a desolate wasteland, even today, five hundred years after the defeat of the Demon army, it is still a ruined land.


    The Human's, left with no skill or traditions other than those pertaining to warfare, scattered to the wind, selling their skills to any nation that would take them. The rise and fall of Human civilization is one of the most unique events in our history, in the span of a mere 2,050 years an entire race was raised from tribal savages little more advanced than beasts, to a thriving civilization before being cast down into nothingness. Modern Humans are a migrant race, their great leaders are long dead, their lands still smolder from the fires of their past, they live in small groups if in groups at all, wandering from place to place, doing the only thing they know how to do, fight.


    -Edrin M'kar, Elven Historian and Philosopher. A Brief Account of Human History, 17,850 Elven Calendar.


 
This sounds really interesting! Can beastmen be any animal or only faun/satyrs?
 
carrot said:
This sounds really interesting! Can beastmen be any animal or only faun/satyrs?
Beastmen can display a wide variety of human/animal feature combinations yes.
 
Oh, cool! I dunno if that's what I'd like to play just yet but definitely count me interested. Do I need to come up with a character to reserve a space now?
 
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Name: Tort Cunnit


Gender: Male


Age: 28


Race: Dwarf


Appearance:


latest



Personality: gruff, hardly friendly, seriously but somehow sarcastically optimistic.


Equipment:


Gilanesh(two handed singled headed Axe), a family heirloom Axe, last used by his great grandfather, given to him due to the cohort he planned to join.


Elfsbane(Crossbow), his fathers personal crossbow, who was the first in generations to wield one, thus it is the first to enter the family tradition of passing down weapons.


Shield Masher(single handed Hammer), a secondary weapon Tort bought during his travels.


heavy patchwork armor, mess kit, tarp.


History:


while every dwarven family proudly served their republic and had an unending history of military service, even among the dwarves few took it as seriously as the Cunnits, nor so many make a lifetime career of not just serving, but commanding.


Tort himself had always been overly eager to join, being the youngest of four sons, his eldest brother Dort, and his twin brothers Gilmesh and Hilmesh, had constantly filled his head with visions of battle, saying how high and honor it was to serve their republic, and how lucky they were to all serve in the same Cohort, an extreme rarity but one they felt the gods had blessed upon them.


It was for these reasons, that when word reached Tort and his father Dolort about his brothers court marshals that hit him and his father hard. Only months away from his own service, Tort simply could not understand what had happened.


His brothers, who so proudly served and told him there was no other reason to live, had disobeyed direct orders, the military refusing to say what the order was, as refusing any order was just as traitorous.


His oldest brother, the one who had lead the refusal, was executed, a mercy he did not deserve, but an example to any others of the Cohort that such actions would not be tolerated. His twin brothers were banished, shaved and sent out with little but the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands.


Dolort fell into a deep depression, while for over a month Tort himself was nigh in a state of shock, everything he knew about the world ripped asunder, his thoughts a whirl of questions. Finally, with only weeks before he was to report for training, Tort made a decision.


He had to know, from their own mouths, no matter the cost, why they had refused their orders. What had stood so strongly in their minds as to risk banishment and an end to everything they lived for so suddenly. He was going to leave, banish himself as it were, and find his brothers.


He was not subtle about his intentions, thinking that his father hardly paid anything much attention anyways, as he made his preparations for leaving. It wasn't until his fathers crossbow was suddenly on the table the day he was leaving, a heirloom he had never seen outside the vault, that he knew his father had no illusions about what his final son planned to do.


With naught a word, he took his fathers gift, and left his home, determined to find the truth for himself.


He spent years searching, barely a clue leading him on, learning from the filthy human tribes and the odd gnoll how true combat outside a warzone was fought, paying his way across the lands through mercenary work.


While his deepborne racism of the other races never fully left him, he learned to respect humans for their ways, and dislike elves to an even deeper degree due to their high nosed attitudes and reluctance to draw a blade.


Finally, he caught wind of his brothers trail, much to late, but better then nothing at all. Two dwarves matching their description had long ago traveled alone into the wastes, not heard from sense.


He knew what was most likely had happened. They were dead, stripped, and gone. But he had come much to far, given up too much to not continue forth. If he could even simply find their bones to lay to rest, he would consider his journey not a waste.


Not willing to make the same mistakes as them though, he waited out his luck for any insane enough to venture forth alongside him, and sure enough, luck handed him an opportunity, and one that paid quite well too.
 
Name: Elena M’lan


Gender: Female


Age: 57


Race: Elf


Appearance: http://usercontent2.hubimg.com/7472049_f520.jpg


Personality: She pays no attention to the people around her and will usually respond with short sentences, she is aloof and appears to be spending more time in her head then in the real world, she has been seen talking to herself at times, irritating her will lead to not much of a reaction as aside from maybe a spec of dust most people don't appear on her radar, annoy her to a further degree and you might find yourself stabbed, she prefers to go solo in most missions as comrades just get in her way.


Equipment: A jet black sword that she wears in a scabbard, robes, light chain armour, travelling supplies and a heirloom halberd that used to be her fathers, a warhorse (destrier).


History: Elena was the daughter of a prominent military leader of a small city state on the edge between the wastes and the elf lands, she was destined to be a warrior like many before her and her training started early, at the age of 17 she had already begun her training with her father and her prospects were good, not much of that remained though, her family was slaughtered and she was stranded in the world, equipped with the bare minimum she went into the world, armed with her newfound sword and families equipment she became a mercenary, honing her skills and making a reputation for herself amongst the traders and mercenaries in the region, if you need peace of mind or a foe taken care of she is, albeit pricey, one of the best out there.
 
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Name: Mors


Gender: Male


Age: 27


Race: Human


Appearance:


12421ab0995230204c885e19fbbea262.jpg



Personality: Mors is disciplined, reclusive, and utilitarian, his need to survive being his sole motivator. Having grown up being taught to be entirely self-dependant, Mors is reluctant to rely on other people for most anything, even when seriously injured. Despite this and his reclusive nature, Mors will not hesitate to approach others if he feels he needs something from them, and will occasionally even form friendships, where his no-nonsense attitude relaxes significantly. He may even go out of his way to assist his friends, though this is extremely rare.


Mors is only truly loyal to himself, however, and isn't afraid to abandon those he has befriended should he deem it necessary. He'll happily work for anyone who pays him, then happily betray them when a better offer arrives. Sometimes, he'll betray or abandon someone for reasons only he knows. Whether he's helping another or simply himself, Mors never regrets his decisions and rarely hesitates.


Equipment: A Yew-wood longbow, a quiver of arrows, a dwarven-made shortsword and a handful of pouches used for carrying things like spare food, medicine, and spare bowstrings.


History: Mors, like his parents and their parents before them, was born in a nondescript location somewhere in between dwarven territory and the wastes. His parents had only given birth to him because they felt the need to pass their skills with the bow and sword on to someone else, so that their techniques may continue to live after they had died, and this was evident in how they raised him. As soon as he was able, Mors's parents began teaching him how to survive on his own, mostly through the use of a bow and stealth. He and his parents traveled alone, only occasionally interacting with caravans for supplies or inns for a place to rest. This is how his life was spent for fifteen years, moving from place to place with only his parents, selling his skills with the bow alongside them to anyone that wanted them.


Then, one morning, Mors awoke to discover his parents had left sometime during the night, leaving no trace. He never saw either of them again.


For another eleven years, Mors continued to wander between the Elvish and Dwarvish lands, occasionally joining up with a group but always leaving after some time. When Mors was twenty-six, he was recruited into a band of Humans that referred to themselves as Bandits, who operated entirely for self-gain, often raiding caravans and looting towns. He remained with them for another year before one of the members stepped forward and gave him a new offer.


During one of their many raids, the Bandits had acquired a runed stone said to hold incredible magic power, though the group's leaders refused to use it in fear of what it might do. The Bandit that approached Mors offered him a significant amount of pay, more than he had gotten from the Bandits in that entire year, to steal it and bring it to him so that he could have its power. Mors happily accepted the job and stole into the leaders' treasure hoard one night, snatching the runed stone up.


Once he reached the spot that had been designated for the exchange, however, Mors was ambushed by the Bandits; the plot had been discovered, the rogue Bandit had been killed and now the entire group was howling for his blood. Through a stroke of luck and skill, Mors managed to escape the ambush and went on the run, being chased down by the Bandits for weeks.


During the weeks of his pursuit, Mors found that the runed stone was fake, merely a rock with an odd symbol carved on it. He abandoned the stone in the hopes that it would shake the Bandits from his tail, but it did not; presumably, they had also discovered the stone was fake and believed that Mors was still carrying the "real" stone. They even put a bounty on his head, drawing a collection of bounty hunters into the chase.


Tiring from constantly having to run, Mors restocked and bought a hooded cloak from a caravan to hide his appearance, then found someone who was willing to employ him and was headed for the only place he knew not even the Bandits would dare go: the wastes.
 
cool characters so far, doesn't seem like we will be the most uniform team ever, but all we need to do is not kill eachother and hopefully that'll be enough teamwork to keep the "team" in the "work".
 
Before I dive in and start building my character, would the group need a navigator? I'm thinking about a beastman character who is a scholar to work as their guide. What say you?
 
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carrot said:
Before I dive in and start building my character, would the group need a navigator? I'm thinking about a beastman character who is a scholar to work as their guide. What say you?
Hmm, that could work, a character like that would have knowledge of the history of the region, maps of the area are understabalby out of date but he would know where the major settlements and landmarks are supposed to be.


Perhaps he's also coming along in the hopes of creating new maps?
 
That's about what I was thinking. I'd need your guidance a little bit since it's your world, but I think it could add an interesting dynamic, too.
 
It's an interesting character idea, I'll PM you any information you have relevant to the area you're in throughout the game.
 
Welp I'm sold, this is amazing. There's the great setting and then all the interesting characters.
 
The Chosen Undead] [URL="https://www.rpnation.com/profile/24167-cashdash25/ said:
@Cashdash25[/URL]
Can we be racial hybrids? Such as human-elf hybrids?
Technically speaking the only races capable of breeding would be Humans with Drakebloods and Elves with Beastmen, which would just produce a Drakeblood and a Beastman respectively. So not really.
 
Name: Brahiel Duskgrass


Gender:Male


Age:51


Race:Elf


Appearance:

full
Personality: Born and raised as an young Elf should, he found everything dull. He's fickle and makes rash decisions that he tends to later regret to some degree. His most obvious trait is his curiosity for anything that can peak his interest. He's a bit of pack rat believing everything can be of some use at some time and to always be prepared for whatever may come one's way. He's indifferent to killing, neither against or for it. He enjoys the actual combat more than the climatic deathblow. He has no care for the differences of races or gender.


Equipment: Leather rucksack containing dried meats, poultices, dressing, water skin, etc. nothing fancy; short composite bow, can be strapped to the rucksack; three arrows are slid into open spaces in each boot and arm guard; two single edged short blades that are also kept in the boots; leather shield attachable to the left arm guard or hung on the back of the rucksack; three javelins are kept in a holding pouch on the side of the rucksack opposite of the bow; winged spear


History: Up until the end of his adolescence he lived a fairly normal life in one of elfen cities. At that point he grew bored of his life. He read about a wall of sorts and since then has wanted to see it. Knowing the dangers he began training extensively and would leave home after five years to gain experience. The next years of his life were the best of times as he traveled with caravans and visited many places. He learned different styles of combat and trained with weapons he began to favor as he expanded his arsenal. At some point he was alone and almost died because he ran out of provisions, since then he began carrying an excessive amount of supplies. Nothing note worthy ever happened to him aside from that one event. He's worked as a mercenary on multiple occasions but found no joy in killing. Recently he's caught wind of a particularly interesting expedition of sorts.
 
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@Naps Brahiel seems mostly fine but there is an issue, Elve's age at around a quarter of the rate that Humans do, a 15 year old Elf would be equivalent to about a 4 year old Human.
 
Okay everybody, this should be starting Wednesday the 9th, there's still three open spaces left for anyone who wants to join.
 
Do Drakebloods have some of the physical characteristics of a dragon, like horns, scales, a tail, ect.?


@Cashdash25
 
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