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Meathos
August 7th, 2007, 06:14 PM
The Tower Six

“They say war tears things apart, and brings others closer together… As I look through these tattered archives, reading scorched accounts, hearing the echoes of a million lives’ ends, I realise that ‘they’ are wrong… War has simply changed borders, and dimmed the population for this damned land.

“Here is the account of Caspian, Captain of the Orion; Bastards! The damned barbaric bastards! How could they have defeated even one of our troops? They are strong and cunning, I give them that, but there is no way they could have gotten this far...

...We can see them. They sprung out of seemingly nowhere... They spring out of nowhere, all over the city. They've taken half of it, so I've heard, but they never stay put. We can never find them to attack them. We're stuck in houses, fighting like dogs through rat-infested, broken down hellholes, only to be pushed back, or attacked from the direction we came in. At this point, the capital is the prime objective; All troops have been ordered to report here, but many are being ambushed along the way, while leaving their posts in the country...

Those who do arrive keep mentioning a name: 'Korlis'. Some say it's their leader, some say it's a God, but I don't believe the latter. These may be demons, but this is far from blasphemy, so far. All we can hope is that they respect us long enough for the Orion themselves to show, and crush these... Things. Show, they will: Our headquarters and escape route for the citizens is the Temple, and every one of them, and us, prays to them. May the prophecy hold.”

...In the next months, The Orion was captured by Korlis himself... Caspian's head went missing, and only his body was found, laying anonymously amongst the legions of soldiers killed.


“Here is the account of Cepheus, Captain of the ‘King’s Eyes’ Scouting Party, 3rd Division of the 9th Battalion of Brethrondil; Obliterated. Annihilated. Gone. My company was ambushed in the thick forest that lies North of Tower 6, just after we pressed through the Border Mountains… I hardly saw them coming, and I sure as Hell don’t know how I got out. Maybe I’m just a coward… I completed my mission, however; The enemy’s position was found, and the forces occupying the Tower were notified… And soon, I head right back in there, only this time we have more men. Oh, if only that would help. I fear that I have been captured by the one thing you can’t escape - Insanity. I hear their voices, I see them in the shadows… I can feel their presences. Not only my fallen company, but those brutish bastards who killed them all…

The song plays, though, and it never stops. It keeps me happy, keeps me safe; I can tell what will happen just by the mood of it. It is solemn, now, quiet, calm... All I can see is blackness, now. All I hear is their hissing and laughing, and the beautiful symphony from the heavens.”

…He wasn’t insane, after all… He really did see the Korlis everywhere. Poor bastard.

Five centuries, 2 Wars, one extermination, and a heap of breeding… We are once again on the brink of War. King Dravis was murdered 4 months ago, and now, we are once again lining up to be slaughtered by our unnatural enemies. I presume otherwise, however. I think it was not the Korlis who assassinated out Monarch - It’s not their way. I accuse the Eastern lands, Ester, of the crime. The Korlis are much too… Good for assassination. Yes, it has happened before, but only 3 times in our accurate recordings. If the Korlis wanted us dead, we would be dead. I blame the Esters. They are Human, like us, yet they are… They, too, are too skilled for assassination. To kill the King would not be hard for them, but it would be unheard of, causing attention to be focused on Korlis, rather than themselves. They would divert us to attacking their enemy, and an unconcious alliance would be formed... But why wouldn't they simply ask? Too damn proud, of course.

To the Esters, assassination is low. That is what we have in common, at first glance. Their odd, gutteral dialect may be responsible for the many differences seen between us, but whether it is truth or miscommunication is yet to be determined, it seems. Their manner of speaking, brutish and intimidating at times, is not unknown to match their general, steryotypical personality, yet it rarely does. The Ester people have been the front-line against the Korlis advance for the last few decades, and they have done very well, from what we've heard. They not only hold them off, but often advance through, cutting off supplies and even taking prisoners. Their secret to beating them is just that, though- a secret. I assume it has something to do with their love of their land, and King. Perhaps it is the relentless fury with which they fight. Perhaps it's their 'honour', and other values they flaunt. All in all, though, the Ester are a proud people, who love eachother, their country, and their King. Anywhere their black eagle on its red backdrop is seen, one can expect a stone wall, either literal, or metaphorical. The nation is worthy of admiration, respect, and fear. Assassination is unlikely, but not unknown.

To the Korlis, it’s all about brute strength, and strength in numbers. According to our Scouts, and my assumptions, they have a Facist Government, if it’s organized enough to be called a Government… Their leader, Korlis as he is always called that, is the supreme ruler, who is backed by Military Might. It seems they are hardly ever opposed, though.. At least this Korlis isn’t. The population is conscripted at the 3rd year of age, and trained to be a soldier their entire life. Their elites are simply berserks… Our scouts seem to have had trouble pinpointing their cities and peoples. Rumours have spread and grown from the old myths and legends, claiming that they in fact live underground, but, on the other hand, their said-to-be capital, the ancient Brethrondil capital, The Orion, is still intact even after the first war so long ago. It would make sense that their government reside there, it is rather safe... But there has to be more than just their government. Could they actually live underground? It's a shame the scouts are too afraid to go past ten miles in their realm...

As for the Western world… We had a great many of them sail over to aid us in the Defence of The Orion, but they have since lost contact with us. They are still in a sort of Alliance with us, we hope, and expect; We hope and expect they have survived the years since then seeing as it is rumoured that they, too, were involved in a Great War, just as our War calmed and ended. It was said that a great leader emerged from Captaincy, and brought justice to those who would do evil deeds to the rest of Wallace, their land. His campaigns’ records are yet to be read by myself… Wallace is now a single country. They are lead by a single King, who hopefully has not forgotten our alliance…

And now, War comes again to our land… Our border pierces across the ancient border, into enemy territory. All there is that divides our newly regained land from the enemy is a few intersecting rivers. May God protect those rivers…”

The Historian muttered his speech to himself, stood, and extinguished the small flame upon his candle with a quick blast from his lungs. His chamber in the back of the library immediately darkened to the level of darkness in which only those accustomed to it’s light levels can see. The Historian would inform his Prince of his assumptions and discoveries - It could save thousands.

Two steps, and the Historian already found himself rather lost. He stopped, closed his eyes, and tried to get them to adjust, but they were far too old… He remembered the floor plan of his small study, and feeling rather confident, took another step. So far, so good. His fourth step, however, was not so good. He slammed his left foot into what had to be the leg of a desk, and fell forward.

Blood stained the stone floor, and the foot of the soldier that had been sent to ‘Escort’ him out of existence. The soldier’s armoured boot served it’s purpose well.

Quietly, the Historian’s body was dragged closer to the table that tripped him, and his head was placed near the leg of the oak piece of furniture. He had hit his head on the corner of the desk, the old fool.

The Prince was not entirely sure of who exactly assassinated his father, and frankly, the insane man did not care. He was going to war with Korlis and whether it dragged the entire continent into it with him or not, he did not know, or care. He had ancestors who were slaughtered in the Old War, when they reclaimed a small portion of their former land. They would be avenged…




-Oligarchy- Councillor Meathos
Councillor
Councillor
Councillor

-Classes-
(Member's Screen Name) - (RP Name), (Country of Origin), (Country of Allegiance), (Country of Residence)

Short-Swordsmen-
Awake[n] - Alexander Payan II, Brethrondil, Brethrondil, Brethrondil
Yayap - Aluno Bazanar, Wallace, Wallace, Brethrondil


Long-Swordsmen-
Meathos - Meathos Alregdia, Brethrondil, Brethrondil, Brethrondil
Knux - Dagna Gliron, Ester, Ester, Brethrondil

Scouts-


Archers-
heather4eva06 - Mireille Donovan, Ester, Ester, Ester


Cavalry-
Requiem - Joseph Roughknight, Ester, Ester, Ester


Axemen-


Beserks-




-Definitions-
-Classes-

Short Swordsman- The typical warrior with a sword and shield. Short sword blades are anywhere between 1.5 and 2 feet long. Light, quick, and sharp, but not good defensively. That’s where the shield would come in, yet it is optional. A shield, or an open arm may be substituted for an additional sword.

-Weapons-
Shortsword
Katana- any and all variations accepted
Broadsword
One-and-a-half-handed sword
Mace/Morningstar
Scimitar
Pata
Ect.

Long Swordsman- The alternative to the shield-wielding warrior, the long swordsman would use his longer blade with one, or two hands for both offensive and defensive strikes. Unfortunately for the long swordsman, any offensive strikes can, and will be used against them. Unlike the short swordsman, they cannot defend with two different tools of battle. But what the long swordsman lacks in defensive tools, they make up with long reach, and more power.

-Weapons-
Two-handed sword
Claymore
Longsword(One, or two hands)
Katana- any and all variations accepted
Pike/Spear
Scimitar
Mace/Morningstar
Ect.

Scouts- Quick, quiet, agile, unseen… These are the qualities of the Scout. They know the wilderness, they know the land, and they know their limits. They are always sent ahead of advancing armies to scout out different routes, the enemies’ positions, or the location of the nearest town. They can also be used as spies. They work well both alone, and in large troops. The Scout is quick and quiet, and not used to combat… A Scout who walks away from a confrontation with an infantryman is considered lucky. Same goes on a larger scale.

-Weapons-
See Short Swordsman
See Long Swordsman
See Archers
Ect.

Archers- Tactile. That word describes the archers almost perfectly. They are the ranged support, the force that turns the tide of battle, the ones that keep the enemy where they need to be kept. They are the faceless killers that consume life from anywhere, and everywhere. They must be quick, they must have a knack for their angles, and they must know where to go if they are ever located, or even worse- Confronted by enemy infantry, or cavalry.

-Weapons-
Longbow
Shortbow
Crossbow
See Short Swordsman
See Axeman
Ect.

Cavalry- Quick slashing attacks of unimaginable devestation. Cavalry are the first ones in, then the third ones, and fourth, and fifth… They charge in, scatter, regroup, and charge again. Cavalry rely on the infantry for support on the fray, and the infantry rely on the cavalry to relieve them of overwhelming numbers. Simbiotic relationships in battle often can work to ensure both victory and doom.

-Weapons-
See Archer
See Short Swordsman
See Axeman
Spear/Pike
Ect.

Axemen- Much like the Short Swordsman, the Axeman has little in the ways of defence, aside from the armour that weighs him down. Often the Axeman will use one or more axes, or will use a shield to increase his offence, or defence. Axemen are quick, brutal, and consistent.

-Weapons-
Short axe
Battle axe
War hammer
Biting axe
Great axe
Ect.

Beserks- Their ferocity is unmatched. Their maximum is unknown. Beserks are purely offensive, yet they wear heavy armor to protect them from everything. They simply go into battle, cleave the enemies in all sorts of fractions, and then move on to the next group of enemies. Unfortunately, they do have a weakness. They seemed to have traded in their brains for their skills in battle. They are the stupidest people around, yet no one wants a lack of them.

-Weapons- See above.


-Countries-

Brethrondil- Former Empire, flying under the name of Brethrondil, its capital being the great citadel of Orion, Brethrondil has since been pushed back from it's expanses into the South of the great continent. The Korlis, a small tribe from the far North, had began a slow, tedious campaign against the Empire, defeating post after post, taking farm after far, town after town, until they finally caught the Brethrondil's attention. However, at that point, it was far too late- The Korlis had somehow built an extensive army, and were now marching for the relatively unprotected Holy Capital, The Orion. After a long seige, the Korlis captured the city, sending the survivors South, past and through the mountains, and into the current country, where they settled in a smaller city, renaming it Brethrondil and claiming it a new capital. Soon after, Korlis pushed the borders to the mountains, set up great guard towers blocking all mountain passes, and waited for the defeated Brethrondil to retalliate. They did, and were again defeated. Now, the Brethrondil control the small civilized country, even after pushing through the mountains into Korlis territory in the Second Great War.
Brethrondils tend to be varied in appearance. They tend to wear simple shirts, pants, and boots. The soldiers wear plate armor, for the most part, which is mostly of a polished steel colour, with blue capes, or symbols, depending on rank and division. Captains and other high ranks mostly will have customized armor and weapons, unlike the draftees, or the volunteers who they order around. The high ranking Officers will have specialized helmets, complete with decorative plumes of artificially coloured horse hair. The Brethrondil Army has been known to use militia, and mercanaries for harder, dirtier work, or to simply infiltrate and surprise the enemy. Brethrondil's weakness is their minds. Their society is so built upon freedom, that everything is corrupted. Those who notice it are often killed... Almost every soldier hates their job, since they are serving some faceless leader, and not themselves. Brethrondillians would rather die on their own farms, in their houses, or in a decent job than for some insane, corrupt leader who cares nothing for their well-being.Strengths- Brethrondil have an interesting set of attributes. There is almost a perfect balance between mind power, and physical power. Brethrondils have a seemingly basic military system, containing several different ‘sections’, or battalions, divisions, platoons, squads… They keep it simple and effective.Weaknesses Brethrondil may have a simple and effective way of doing things, but their minds are far more advanced for such simplicity. They can, and do pick up on subtle faults within their leadership, and they have learned not to trust it. Many are unloyal to the crown, and loyal to themselves and those they hold dear.

Korlis- Originally a small band of insane war mongerers from the frigid North, the Korlis managed to intimidate and brainwash hundreds to their cause. After the Korlis rebelled in the ancient times, their leader, Korlis, took the throne of his renamed country. He hammered his customs down into the seams of the native culture, and used his military might to force his will upon his newly aquired people. For centuries, the Korlis killed and replaced monarch after monarch, renaming their leader ‘Korlis’ every time. Korlis tend to wear blackish armour, no matter what their surroundings. Their people have a strange set of red glowing eyes in every head that they produce. The Korlis wear mostly black plate armor, which is tough, and layered, almost, like a tick's back, for extra maneuverability. Other than that, they dress in plain shirts, and pants, boots, ect. Korlis' weakness is it's massive size. They have a strong military as individuals, but their dull minds and lack of available resources will eventually kill them off. Their blind facist society often is too overconfident for their own good.Strengths- Korlis are brutal and simply intimidating. Their leadership is strong, solid, and faceless. The Korlis are loyal, completely. Their soldiers will do what they are told, no questions asked, and they, most of the time, will not fail, or retreat. Stories of two Korlis friends annihilating an entire squad of soldiers in 10 minutes are not uncommon. They simply do not stop.Weaknesses- Korlis are loyal, that is both a strength, and a weakness. The Korlis are blind followers, not knowledgeable ones. What they gain in brute physical strength, they lack in brain power. Korlis are not mentally challenged, they are simply uneducated. They are trained for military service from a young age, and with that training comes wave after wave of propaganda that is pumped into their minds. Their forces are also thinned out across the massive chunk of land that they call Korlis.

Wallace- A small island West of Brethrondil, previously engulfed in civil war. Four main areas, three great countries within the land were at open-war, untill one man out of Captaincy rose up, united two countries, and defeated the evil in the land. That was at the same time as the Extermination. Now, they are one united country, under the name Wallace. Their knowledge of the struggles of Brethrondil and the rest of the lands is unknown as a whole. Wallace often produces many adventurers who end up in Brethrondil. In fact, that is how the Humans came to dwell in the ancient Elvish land. Wallace's weakness is it's diversity. There are still ill feelings between the 3 different provinces from their civil war that may never go away. Working as a unit is difficult.Strengths- The people of Wallace’s diversity is what makes them a formidable ally, or foe. With the Wallace, you never quite know what you will be fighting with, or against. Every race is incredible at what they do, however, they are terrible at everything they do not. As a unit, the races feed off of each other.Weaknesses- The people of Wallace seem to have a short attention span. They are not exactly trained in a true military fashion, most are hunters, or bounty hunters, or freelance assassins, or what have you. That means that they have no loyalty, in a way. That lack of loyalty is what brought them to Brethrondil just before the extermination. The Wallace have little training, so they are quite the push-overs in one-on-one combat. Working as a unit through racial diversity is often a challenge.

Ester- Brethrondil's 'Brother-Nation'. The only country that has stood against Korlis’ might. They somehow resisted the pure strength and numbers of the Korlis for all of recorded history, and they did it without surrender, or negotiation. These proud people are of unknown origins. They seek no alliances, they need no alliances. The people of Ester, the Esters, are almost identical with the Brethrondillians in almost every way, save their apparel, and social systems. Esters are proud of themselves, their nation, and eachother. They wear rather simple clothes, often made of wool or cotton, and often of rather dry, drab colours. Their armour is often light, composed of leather, mostly, or thin, light steel plates for heavier infantry. Their helmets are simple, with a beak, and a crutain down the back, smaller on the sides, with a small spike on the top, used to identify rank, and doubling as a bayonette in desperate situations. However, they have been known to fight in heavier armour, sometimes disgarding uniform for stealth and surprise's sake.
They are a clean people, with varying hair colours, and styles. They are born to fight, now, because of the perpectual Korlis threat, yet they do not live to fight. They have a strong sense of family, of home, and of loyalty to their King and nation. They fight with unmatched passion and might.Strengths- Esters are passionate, and loyal. They are incredible as a unit, and as individuals. Their passion and loyalty to each other in a national epidemic is unmatched, and they will never betray each other, apparently. Although their history is not known by many, Esters have always been known as proud, stubborn, powerful sons of bitches. They have a thirst for battle that is quenched only by victory and glory. The gambles they take often pay off. Weaknesses- Esters’ passion is often the real cause of death. Their loyalty to each other, and their nation, and lust for glory often blinds them, leading them into terrible situations. The individual is guilty, and so is the superior. Often, their generals, captains, anyone in a position of power, will feel an urge to push forward, to fight, even when it is impossible, or simply insane to do so. There is a time and place for everything, and the Esters do not know that time.


-Bio Thread- (http://forums.gamewinners.com/forums/showthread.php?p=6803565#post6803565)
-Map (http://h1.ripway.com/Meathos/mappage.jpg ) Coming Soon!
-Brethrondil Officer's Helmets (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v320/Meathos/scan0001-1.jpg) Subject to change | Brethrondil Soldier Helmet (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v320/Meathos/PossibleBrethHelmet.jpg) Subject to change
-Korlis Helmet (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v320/Meathos/KorlisHelmet.jpg) Subject to change
-Kothlis, the Conflict's Province (http://forums.gamewinners.com/forums/showthread.php?t=441046)(Site of the old RPs. Please note these are the old, original RPs from the old first-draft of the story.RP. These do not reflect the chain of events here, now, at all. As a matter of fact, I have planned to completely change the first experience had at the Tower when the Brethrondils first arrive, so don't get confused.)




-Biography Outline-
GW Screen name- (This doesn’t deserve to be explained.)
RP name-(Simple enough.)
Age- (Character’s Age…)
Sex- (Not ‘yes’. Male/Female…)
Country of origin- (Where character was born)
Allegiance- (What country they are aligned with)
Country of Residence- (The country they live in.)
Class- (Choose one.)
Weapons- (Must apply to the class. For example, a Long swordsman may not have an axe.)
Appearance- (Simple enough…)
Biography- (Character’s story.)


-Character Creation Rules-

There is no magic, unless I make an exception.
There are no other nationalities/races aside from Brethrondil, Wallace, Korlis, or Ester, unless I make an exception.
There are no other classes, unless one is suggested to me, and I see it’s creation fit.
There are no Uber Characters. Every race/nationality, every class has their weaknesses, obey them.
There are other weapons used. Any suggestion to any weapon category will be considered, and placed immediately.
There are defections. You can be Korlis fighting on the Brethrondil’s side, if you wish. Other combinations are accepted, as well.
Note that the majority of people will most likely be Brethrondil, and that should be taken into account. If you choose to be Korlis, you may be choosing to RP with an isolated few others, if that is available at all. Do not bitch when you bring things like that upon yourself.


Clan Rules
No SPAM- No means no. You get one warning for this, repeat-offenders are exiled.
No Flaming/Trolling/that sort of thing- Joking is fine, but if it gets out of hand, you're exiled.
Respect me and the other Councilmen- Disrespect is unacceptable. Do it once, and you're gone. Opinion is one thing, attitude is another.
Follow all of C&C's Rules and ZT Rules- If you don't, Cole or Eye will crush you. It's a given. And that will effect more than just your membership here, sucka'.

*Note- This is a ressurrection, not a clone

© Neil Redpath 2002-2007. All names, places, characters, events and anything else original to these works are subject of the copyright. All charcters, names and events suggested by other contributors are under the copyright.

This work is licenced under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 2.5 License. To view a copy of this licence, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.5/legalcode or send a letter to Creative Commons, 559 Nathan Abbott Way, Stanford, California 94305, USA.

Yayap
August 7th, 2007, 06:27 PM
First!

You know I'm in on this.

Meathos
August 7th, 2007, 06:28 PM
Mhmm. Post your bios here, everyone who may join.

Requiem
August 7th, 2007, 08:48 PM
Jointz. I'll begin writin' a bio immediatly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GW Screen name- Requiem

RP name- Joseph Roughknight

Age- 35

Sex- Male

Country of origin- Ester

Allegiance- Ester

Country of Residence- Ester

Class- Cavalry

Weapons- Assortment of spears and a short sword for charges.

Appearance- Not a very large man but not scrawny either. Stands around 5'11 and a healthy 175lb. Holds himself as a superior and as an officer should, however low the grade. Often seen in his normal Calvary Breastplate with added insignia for Captain on the shoulder plate. Wears no side armor and only shin guards for his legs. Underneath is a simple tunic of bslick black material which covers a hidden layer of well oiled leather. He often chooses to forego a helmet unless for a formal diner or such an occasion. HIs sandy blonde hair and green eyes set him appart from the mold.

Biography- Joseph's eagerness to serve his country drove him in to the Ester Calvary at the age of 19 and he has been serving with dignity ever since. He carries an intense aura with him into the field that seems to engulf those around him.

When he was younger he was always taught to live with honor and die in glory. Serving your country was the highest honor you could give your father. Jack Roughknight, another Calvarymen and Joseph's father was perhaps his biggest influence in life.

'Stay strong'
'Don't let your enemy see your weakness'
'Stay alert'
'Never give in'

These were life lessons that have followed Joseph through all thirty-five years of his life and will continue to follow him until the day he takes his last breath.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope its acceptable.

BTW, thanks for the PM :P

Meathos
August 7th, 2007, 10:46 PM
Works perfectly, Joe. We'll figure out how to get everyone to join up in the RP once we have more member/when I start this thing off.

heather4eva06
August 7th, 2007, 10:57 PM
GW Screen name- heather4eva06

RP name- Mireille Donovan

Age- 25

Sex- Female

Country of origin- Ester

Allegiance- Ester

Country of Residence- Ester

Class- Archer

Weapons- Short Bow and Short Sword

Appearance- Her black hair is short, barely passed her ears, and a bit unkempt. Her eyes are dark brown and she's tall. Wears a black shirt covering her breasts that stops just above her belly button. Wears light shoulder and chest armor and gloves that reach her upper arm. She wears black pants with a belt. She has black, steel toed boots and her father's helmet, though she prefers not to wear it.

Biography- Mireille left her home to join the military, although it was more like she ran away. All the males in her family had been swordsman, but she was the only child of her parents. Her father was deemed missing in action, for a number of years before his body was discovered. And by then he was only identified by the necklace he wore with the family crest on it. Although her mother did not want her to leave, Mireille wanted to keep to the family tradition. After being trained in Ester in short sword, she left for Wallace for training in the short bow at the age of 16, for the people are master hunters and assassins. She left Wallace as soon as her training was finished, and returned to find her mother had re-married and had a son with a man from Korlis. Her mother, step-father, and brother now live in Korlis, although her mother had left her the house and much of her father’s belongings.
This didn’t bother Mireille, for she preferred military life to home life. She stays in her home until needed.


This is what I have for now. I'll edit in more bio, as soon as I think of it.

Knux
August 7th, 2007, 11:27 PM
Neil, here's my bio from the last time this was around. I think I planned something with my guy but the thread only made it to the intro so I never got to develop him or anything. I read your change of Esters and I think it'll still fit, but if not lemme know and I'll fix stuff.

GW Screen name- Knux
RP name- Dagna Gliron
Age- 25
Sex- Male
Country of origin- Ester
Allegiance- Ester
Country of Residence- Brethrondil
Class- Longswordsman
Weapons- Two handed broadsword, slightly curved and sharpened only on one side. The hilt is wrapped in a type of animal skin and hanging from it is a loose strand usually present among clan tradition. The weapon, being rather heavy, is used more often for slashing motions.

Appearance- The less "hardened" would see Dagna's appearance as somewhat intimidating. Standing at a height of 6'1 and having grown up to the standards of his clan he grew into a rather muscular physique, which in turn led to his job in a city bar. Despite his shaggy red-brown hair and scowl often plastered on his face, he is known to be charismatic. When formerly fighting and living among his clan he wore rough pants and boots with hard, boiled leather as a light chest reinforcement. Due to his clan's preference and tradition his clothing was often dark green with a dark orange cloak worn on the back. Despite his shaggy red-brown hair and scowl often plastered on his face, he is known to be charismatic.

Biography- Dagna grew up and lived among a nomadic Ester clan of hunters and warriors who strived to battle. Never staying in one place for too long, his clan moved among several parts of the country, often experiencing new hardships and growing eager to meet battle and achieve a name for themselves. He was trained to fight as effectively as possible wearing his light armor, if it could even be called that, and the type of broadsword which was used among the majority of his clan as well. Eventually his clan had met the battle they longed for, eagerly rushing in and locking blades with their Korlis enemies. The battle had taken a turn for the worst and the clan's future seemed bleak, and thus Dagna's uncle ordered him to flee from the site of the battle. Reluctantly Dagna did just that and fled through Ester, making his way on his own. Not wanting to stay in Ester he moved toward the Brethrondil border, crossing it by impersonating a simple farmer who nobody would question.

The 17 year old made his way to the great city Brethrondil, a site unlike any other he had seen while living a nomadic lifestyle in Ester. Upon entering a bar and putting an end to a brawl with the site of the sword slung on his back, the barkeep took notice of him. He had lied about his heritage, and the man, thinking of a use for Dagna's strength, allowed him to work as an assistant barkeep and a "queller" of fights. Dagna's job as the barkeep met success as he eagerly conversed with the citizens of the city, as did his job of keeping a somewhat more "peaceful" enviroment.

As topics of war had come up among people he met he listened with a hidden disgust... a disgust at how eager these men were to throw themselves into war, unaware of its true horrors and life taking. Even so he himself secretly vowed to jump back into this war, though not for the thrill as these men did. Dagna vowed since the day he left Ester to somehow gain revenge against the Korlis who fought his clan, to spill whatever Korlis blood he could manage as he was brought up to believe. The chance of joining the volunteer army dawned upon him and he accepted, ready to leave his current job and blindly charge into this horror that these others were blindly eager to join.

Requiem
August 8th, 2007, 01:03 AM
With this and KoA (not to mention a new and improved TG RP), C&C may just rebound in the future. I can only hope....

Bladz
August 8th, 2007, 06:12 AM
You uh... don't give up on things, do you Neil? :P

asian jew
August 8th, 2007, 03:19 PM
Give me some time and I'll get one up. My old one sucks.

And get that ecstasy-addled moron out of your sig, bladz. He's the reason I have to deal with the "oh my god my hair stopped growing is that bad omg look neon and techno!!!" generation.

Meathos
August 8th, 2007, 05:48 PM
lol, Ben. It's been re-formatted a bit. Sorta.

Posting a bio?

Requiem
August 8th, 2007, 06:30 PM
Plannin' on addin' anyone to the FP? :P

Meathos
August 8th, 2007, 07:31 PM
Yeah.

I'll kick the RP off once we get more members... If that happens.

Yayap
August 8th, 2007, 08:02 PM
I think it should be noted that I'm using the same guy as last time with some minor changes.

Requiem
August 8th, 2007, 08:04 PM
I can't wait. I just worte an RP for KoA so I'm pretty pumped about this one. Any new plans that you could share with us for this one? Or will it be along the same lines as the last?

Meathos
August 8th, 2007, 08:15 PM
K, well, basically, it will parallel the novel.

Meaning we'd be a battalion, kinda cut-off from the city,trying to survive/outrun Korlis/explore Korlis/etc./whatever, if you're from Brethrondil.

Esters would prolly be fighting Korlis, or they can kinda meet up with the Breths, or do what they want.

Korlis will be fighting stuff everywhere.

Wallace... Yeah.

Requiem
August 8th, 2007, 08:17 PM
Is Wallace the France of T6? :P

Meathos
August 8th, 2007, 08:19 PM
Wallace is not the France of T6. It's the America. They come in at the last second, and take all the glory while playing Hero. >=(

Requiem
August 8th, 2007, 09:16 PM
Oh, f*ck you. Thats not accurate at all. America was provoked in most of the wars. Not like we meant to kick everyone's ass. It happens.

At any rate, how many more members do you plan on havin' before this starts?

heather4eva06
August 8th, 2007, 09:54 PM
Hey, I might drop out of this before I get too involved. I really REALLY do not like the character I came up with. It was rushed and I came up with it on a whim. I really have no back story for her at all.

Yayap
August 8th, 2007, 10:04 PM
Why not come up with a new character?

Speaking of characters, I has a bio now.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
GW Screen name- Yayap
RP name- Aluno Brezanar
Age- 24
Sex- Male
Country of origin- Wallace
Allegiance- Wallace
Country of Residence- Wallace
Class- Short Swordsman
Weapons- Morningstar, 2.5' arming sword, 1.5' pata gauntlet

Appearance- 5'8", ragged hair, brown/hazel eyes; light chainmail armor with reinforced leather plate boots and gauntlets, and leather helmet with metal crowning and ear plates over a light grey linen tunic with bland linen pants. Toughened leather leggings help protect upper and lower legs with reinforcement from plates of metal covering the outer thighs. Left arm is armoured heavier with platemail, with the left gauntlet has large, curved, scallopped plates covering the forearm for usage as a shield, the hand is heavily armored with slightly curved spikes at the knuckles; The pata gauntlet can be worn under the shield plate, but not in conjuction with the articulated spiked glove.

Biography- Aluno was born and raised in Wallace. As a child, he lived in poverty, with his father, older brother and sister having take odd jobs just to live day-to-day, week-to-week. For the Brezanar family, there was no long term future, so they lived in the present. At the age of 6, Aluno had developed a sense of theft and helped provide for his family that way. By the age of 12 he had two younger sisters to look after and his father went off to find better paying work. The following year, his older sister died from a bad case of pneumonia.

When he was 16, Aluno had taken up an honest job with a shipping division that had been helping with supplies to various places, though it was normal that he pocketed some things on the side to help. By this time, his second youngest sister died at the age of 5. When his mother and brother became violently ill, Aluno set off to take up jobs as a mercenary. He was unfit for combat, but using the skills he developed as a child, he was able to hold this line of work for three years; During one of his shortest jobs during this time, his brother had died from his illness. After retiring from freelancing, he sought out formal training for his combat skills, thinking that better combat performance would yield a higher payout.

During his two years of combat training, Aluno had learned to distrust shields. They were heavy and his peers and masters would use more force than needed when they practiced deflecting, causing countless injury to his left arm. In one training session, someone had bashed their shield into his own, causing the bones in his forearm and wrist to fracture. After recovering, that same peer sparred with Aluno once more. This time Aluno slashed out with his training sword with the result of it being deflected. His peer took this opportunity to get a jab in on him, but Aluno stepped to the side as he brought his shield down into his peer's left arm, shattering their bones; This left Aluno with his own injury: A gaping cut into his left arm. His shield had not been there to protect him. This incident would lead to him taking up two swords and using them in place of a shield.

In his first training session with this new method, he recieved a cut across his forearm as his rival tried to disarm him. Aluno dropped his off-hand blade in agony, but continued to spar. After parrying blows, he finally took up his second blade and began a relentless assault onto the shield and sword of his opponent. At the first opening, he extended his leg in a mighty kick to the chest of his rival, knocking him down. Aluno was immediately upon him, smacking his rival in the face with the flat sides of his blades before he finally drove the blunt tips through their neck. Aluno was expelled from the training camp at the age of 21.

When he returned home, Aluno found that his aged mother was still ill from five years prior. His father was no where to be found and presumed dead. His youngest, and now only, sister had taken up a life of thievery by the age of 8. This remaining family had been doing better financially, albeit not by much. Instead of living day-to-day, they had been able to go week-to-week, with hopes for the next month.

Having had his left arm rendered almost useless from training, Aluno sought out a blacksmith and had armor crafted for himself. He had his chainmail shirt specially tailored, and his hardened leather boots reinforced with plates. All of his armour pieces were specifically crafter for himself, or were otherwise pieces of premade armour with modifications. The only unaltered pieces of armour are his helmet, right spaulder, and right gauntlet.

After having his armor crafted, Aluno took a job as a mercenary once again, but his contracts had led him from his home continent to Brethrondil, where he is currently located.

Bladz
August 9th, 2007, 12:49 AM
And get that ecstasy-addled moron out of your sig, bladz. He's the reason I have to deal with the "oh my god my hair stopped growing is that bad omg look neon and techno!!!" generation.

Mac Dre is a God amongst rappers, respect his gangsta=

And I've pretty much lost my creative spark through hours of laziness, but if it comes back I'll throw some random RP's up. You already know my character, he hasn't changed, so just toss him in somewhere and call it good. :P

asian jew
August 9th, 2007, 03:44 AM
Oh, f*ck you. Thats not accurate at all. America was provoked in most of the wars. Not like we meant to kick everyone's ass. It happens.


This isn't a debate room, but as a passionately and obnoxiously opinionated person, I'll have to ask you to cut the nationalist bull**** before you force me into a political argument... we've been arguably provoked in some wars. Most of the time we're over there because somebody who just so happens to control everything we do has a lobotomy on the part of their brain that allows them any sense of humanity, notices a nice little "business opportunity" overseas, gets big comical dollar bill signs in his fat pig eyes, labels himself a professional decision maker(though he's not a professional anything), and proceeds to **** us and said country in the ass until we've got nothing left that they need. But hey, I agree with you on Hitler. That bastard deserved it.

And I'm really hoping the idea of "YEAH WE KICK EVERYONE'S ASS I DON'T KNOW WHY EXACTLY AND I'M NOT PHYSICALLY FIGHTING ANYONE BUT YEAH WE'RE BETTER MORE POINTS FOR US WHOO" dies with the progression of the human species.

That said, war is an incredibly interesting historical anecdote, and I love writing about it. :D


Mac Dre is a God amongst rappers, respect his gangsta=

I choose to disrespect his stupidity.

No hard feelings, I don't like to seem like a dick but I like not saying anything a lot less. To make up for it, I'll post a bio that shall causeth thee to trembleth in thine Nike shoes.

GW Screen name- Awake[n]
RP name-Alexander Payan II
Age- 30
Sex- Male
Country of origin- Brethrondil
Allegiance- Brethrondil
Country of Residence- Brethrondil
Class- Short Swordsman
Weapons- Steel scimitar plated with a gold streak and an ivory handle. A shield of the same material, the gold in the shape of an X. Both inherited from his brother, for whom they were custom made and rewarded to as a one-time accolade for heroic actions in warfare. Does not hold much sentiment for it anymore, though valued for its effectiveness he will use any sort of weapon at his disposal, and is trained quite well with bows, spears, and horseback, though seldom cares to display it.
Appearance- Rough and terribly aged, his face wrinkled and eyes bloodshot from years of alcoholism, his hair a shade of pure gray despite its fullness. He is nearly six foot, and though abusive of his body maintained a suitable muscular stature through the shaping of constant battle. Covering him are various and obvious signs of stress.
Biography- Born, raised, and bound in Brethrondil. His career as a soldier started at the age of twenty; he refused to enlist before he had perfected his battle technique, and was able to carry through with this refusal due to the status of nobility that blessed his family. Perishing in his year of enlistment of a sporadic plague of malaria, his parents were quarantined in this time, leaving his last sight of them at the age of nineteen. This was the beginning of his mental destruction, although his brother, a high-ranking general, was facing the same type of torment and thus their connection grew vastly in their need for consolation. With an excess of patrimonial currency at his disposal, Alexander paid his way into expensive training programs and quickly became the finest soldier on the front rank, leaving him little experience there as promotions flew at him. Though miles below his brother in terms of standings, his reputation developed to an equal, if not surpassing prestige.

In his twenty-fifth year of life, he faced a tragedy beyond his own comprehension with the untimely coming of his brother's apparent suicide. Nonsensical, the event was, his brother was neither troubled nor foolish enough to take his own life. He was, however, well-informed of rarely known government happenings and held virtue beyond terms of forced silence. Perhaps, Alexander thought, that the idealistic nature of his sibling was the man's undoing, that this corruption of Brethrondil that many a drunken fool had been arrested for shouting of in the late hours of the night actually existed, and perchance this entire life of loyalty and nationalist pride, of servitude and duty, of supposed heroism, of truth and dignity and justice, it was all a charade....

What did it matter. So many years spent in this bizarre, imaginary realm; he was embedded into it just as much as it was into him; the power of conditioning will easily grant a man an undeniable state of permanence, and shall be bartered for no other lifestyle. With another load of blood-stained money allocated from his brother's death, he purchased an estate of overwhelming size, filling it with nothing but a bed and cabinets of liquor brewed from the amaranth. Virtually empty, the home was, just as his purpose, and just as he wished his mind... his inherited riches have gradually drained into countless expenditures of drugs and alcohol, though with enough money to enjoy the two vices forevermore he may never become aware of his twisted addiction, whether to opiates or gin. He was delirious, spiteful, paranoid and furious... but so drunk, and so high, that it all equated to little more than apathy. Nothing could fix this lifelong lie, nothing could awaken the dead, and all that was remotely akin to repair was complete, unmitigated escape. Needless to say, the tale of the wondrous future that awaited that youthful descendant of the kind and revered Payans would have been lucky to reach lengths of a prologue.

Ah, but the smell of war was looming. Drifting about in space like some liberating and choking ash... perhaps it was brought to mind by the stressful aura exhibited by the townsfolk, or more believably by the torched ruins of the Korlis which lay smoldering visibly in the distance, or even by mere coincidence that battle should rise at the unerring time of the man's paranoid delusions... but it was to come; it was certain in his stubborn mind as it was in the fictitious and worn tides of fate. But though the life, skills, and instinct of a fighter survived in him, a valid motive to continue he could not find, and it would turn out that he would kill not out of duty, nor of ethics or pride or even vengeance for fallen comrades... no, the blood of the hundreds that would spill at his hands would be at the mercy of blind and unrelenting habit...

Ahh, much more inspired than that Azrael douche in the TG. I'm looking forward to this. Find me on MSN sometime, Neil, and give me your storyline. And I'm aware this is a bit long... I've got a little too much caffeine in me at the moment and couldn't really cut it any shorter.

Let's turn this into a fantastic piece of literature, shall we?

Meathos
August 9th, 2007, 03:41 PM
Indeed. I'll talk to you on MSN as soon as I can.


Heather, come up with a new bio if you want. Last thing I need is to have people back out.


Anyways, Joe. I'm not getting into a debate, but I will defend Frace. Shocking.

French were provoked in both wars. It was on their soil. They dedicated themselves to fighting, even though they sucked.

Britain really didn't need to be in either war. Second more than the first, though.

America didn't need to be in the first at all. Hell, when they got there, all they did was stand around- They refused to participate in any campaign that was lead by a non-American, or had any foreign armies participating in it. Kinda stupid.


Whatever. France did their best.

asian jew
August 9th, 2007, 05:09 PM
I got meself a name change.

Hurry up and contact me on MSN, because for some reason I can't see you on my contacts when you're online, even though you're added.

Bladz
August 9th, 2007, 06:20 PM
GW Screen name- Bladz
RP name- Hakan Alkander
Age- 23
Sex- Male
Country of origin- Wallace
Alliegence- Brethrondil
Country of Residence- Brethrondil
Class- Cavalry Archer
Weapons- Long bow, throwing knives, dagger

Appearance- http://www.tahmazian.com/Reinos_Olvidados/03_Personajes/Imagenes/Artemis_Entreri.jpg

http://www.tahmazian.com/Reinos_Olvidados/03_Personajes/Imagenes/Artemis_Entreri_2.jpg

http://www.tahmazian.com/Reinos_Olvidados/03_Personajes/Imagenes/Artemis_Entreri_3.jpg

Not an exact look, but use Artemis Entreri here as a general idea and you can get the basic picture... only with a bow instead of sword... and a horse...

You know the basic backstory Neil, orphan from Wallace, excellent archer, came to Brethrondil and befriending Meathos in the military.

w00t?

heather4eva06
August 9th, 2007, 07:44 PM
I don't want to drop out, but I'm gonna have to. I will keep up with the story, in case I ever want to jump in again. Right now a bunch of stuff is happening, and I'm really don't have the time or the state of mind right now to come up with a good character. I'll stick with the rps I'm already in. Sorry Neil. But I don't want anyone to wait for me.

Requiem
August 9th, 2007, 09:41 PM
Alright. I'm tired of talkin' about it. But I'll not have any more low shots at America guys. Seriously. I've sit around and had too many people bad mouth it in and unjokingly way. Thats the last I'll say on it.

So, on a lighter note :), RP soon? I'm really pumped for this one.

Meathos
August 12th, 2007, 02:14 PM
Hey, guys, sorry. I've been busy. I'll add Ben, and then see what I can come up with tonight.

If you guys want to discuss some things, throw some ideas out there, go ahead. This is your RP, afterall. Just my book.

Requiem
August 12th, 2007, 05:04 PM
Eh, all I need really is that thing I asked for in the PM. No real hurry on that either. But once I get that, I can do loads of things with this RP.

X
August 12th, 2007, 11:44 PM
Hey I'm here. Bio real soon.

Meathos
August 14th, 2007, 10:25 PM
His head bobbed lazily as the wheels popped off of stones and bumps, crushing dry, yellowed grass, rolling forward. His stomach lurched, and then nervously quivered. He hated it all, but he loved it more- The damp, dark, shaky nature of the beast he was inside of, the unnatural calm he’d seen overcome him, the unreal horrors men could only dream of dreaming of on the very brink of outbreak, history telling him to turn back, but everything else telling him to push forward, to make history, to own it, to run things over, to take control, to forget about everything he’d seen and was taught before, to expect nothing short of what he saw. Simply nod, grip what he had, and deal with what happened- No, control what happened. He was a machine, now, and he didn’t care about anything else.

Another bump. The heavy steel panels of the war wagon rattled, and a loose pin fell into the field, never to be seen again by human eyes. In its absence, the sunlight streaked through, landing upon another man’s face, igniting his emerald eyes in the darkness. No one else noticed but him, not even the man with the green eyes, a beacon. He was snapped out of his trance, and he then looked around the small room, or rather excuse for. Men were sitting side-by-side, cramped, their backs against the paneling, or else against a slab of wood in the middle of the wagon, as a bench had been erected there, and men sat with their backs to each other. They were clad in basically the same garb- Light plates, chainmail under, and leather. It looked shabby, and most of it was rusted, or at least stained. They weren’t the best the Army knew, but they certainly weren’t the worst. They wouldn’t have been sent to do what they were doing if they didn’t have some respect. At least, that’s what he hoped.

They were a militia, essentially. Men from all walks of life uniting to form a combat body commanded by a certified, tried, tested and true commander. Their entire division was made up of the same types of people- all types of people. They wore rather mix-and-matched uniforms, compared to their career counterparts, and their fighting style was just the same. They had more variety of soldier-type than the other units. They saw this as an advantage, while most others saw it as a curse. Even inside of his little wagon, he saw all types of men. Why, the emerald-eyed one across from him was a cavalryman. He was an infantryman, like most. Some were archers, others were not. He was a bit uneasy that they had been packed into carts and wheeled off somewhere, but, then they weren’t being taken directly into combat.

That’s what she worried about. He was going to go straight into the fight, and get hit immediately, and die right there. Like it was a privilege to suffer and take hours to die. He often procrastinated, he knew that, but he would be on-time for his death, at least. She didn’t like it. She lied, too, though. She mislead him, she lied, she ‘failed to tell him everything’. She had no idea. She was not him. But, he wasn’t her, either. He was a separate person, and he liked it like that. But he hated the idea that she was something else. She was selfish. She didn’t care. She did what she wanted, no matter what he said… But she hadn’t been the first. His stomach lurched and he played with the slack of the strap holding one of his pauldrons on. He didn’t have the tight, because then he would cut circulation from his arm, and he would lose grip and concentrate on his circulation rather than whoever was infront of him and then he would die right as he got there and she would be mad. His veins popped all the time. Last thing he needed was constriction when he was fighting.

Would he even be fighting? They were going to set up a camp, apparently, and then wait for reinforcements. They would slowly tip-toe into the enemy territory, and eventually start fighting, once they got a big foot in the door. Of course, by then, the whole military would be in Korlis, and the militia division would be at the rear, because they didn’t have enough respect. Of course.

It’d been about a day since they left the tall, graying stone of Brethrondil. The courtyard that they left from was flanked by tall buildings. Houses, shops, businesses… Atop those, what looked to be rooves, were simply two more streets, with barriers stopping people from falling into the courtyard some thirty feet below. Those above could watch the parade below, in the open sunlight, air and majesty of the parades Brethrondil threw whenever they were to march to war. The entire city was built like that, layer upon layer, section by section, step by step. The King and his son, the Prince lived in the castle-like building at the highest level of Brethrondil. It was surrounded by a wide square, which was surrounded by fences, guards, towers, and all in range of archers and ballistae positioned in the turrets of the castle itself. It was there that the city lived, although that one part was old and dead, while the rest was beating and pumping as a young heart does; The top was in control, and damn the rest to Hell if they thought against them. Of course, it was all behind closed doors and very hush-hush. Meathos was only assuming, anyways. He’d only heard rumors of the upper echelon’s ways, nothing more.

“Think we’re close?” One soldier asked out of the dark, dank, stuffy air. He sounded young, from what Meathos could hear. Of course, Meathos himself wasn’t exactly old. Odd.

A voice sniffed a laugh. Meathos could only imagine the look on the creator’s face as he looked at the question posed infront of him. “We left a day ago.”

“Yeah-“

“-That means we still have to go to the mountains.” A smile was loud and clear. The men were obviously friends, and if not, the latter was good-natured, in the very least.

“I know, I-“

A chuckle soared above the quiet, solemn air in the loud rattling wagon. Another bump, and some men popped off of their seats, grinning as they bounced about and into each other like children. Some weren’t so happy, though. They pushed and frowned as others fell on top of them. Some swearing and yelling ruined the flight of the laughter. No matter.

His hand gripped a handle, and he rocked nervously with the machine he was inside of, half-expecting for the wall he was leaning on to tear away and reveal chaotic fighting, desperate fighting, flashes, molten steel shot from bombs whipping inside, barely missing his legs, the wind whipping his hair and face, and then he would be thrown out by a pothole, or a rock, and he would land and roll, and then behead a man, and gain his bearings, and do what he could to contribute to it all, to make his mark, to leave something behind other than his rotting remains, and a notch on someone’s belt, or hilt.

The wall didn’t tear open, and he sat, staring, imagining, worrying… But he wasn’t the only one. It would be okay. If he was to die, then he was to die. He couldn’t do anything about it. All he could do is hope that he would get back. Whatever happened was to happen, and he couldn’t change it. The Orion were interesting, and he couldn’t help ask why they’d been forsaken, his people. He hated that term. ‘His people’ Was he some sort of immigrant? Something other than what every other person in that wagon, and in the other wagons outside of his own? No. He would live and die, but it wouldn’t be by The Orion’s rules. He would devastate them with how much ferocity he would defy them. They had nothing on him, because they had forgotten about him and all of the Brethrondil just a few decades before. He hoped he would live to reach the old city, to go to the Shrine and to smash it. He’d been driven from his original home when he was young because of the stupid Gods, and because of the stupid bastards he was going to fight. He would crush them all, and that was that. Damn her to Hell for doubting him, for defying him. He had every right to do what he was doing. He would crush them all, and that was that.

His head bobbed lazily as the wheels popped off of stones and bumps, crushing dry, yellowed grass, rolling forward.

X
August 15th, 2007, 02:31 PM
Alright, bio is here. RP in a couple of days...

GW Name: X
RP Name: Angel
Age: 20
Sex: Female
Country of Origin: Wallace (she doesn’t know it; I think her traits best exemplify that place)
Allegiance: Esther
Country of Residence: Korlis (Yay for 3 entirely different places!)
Class: Scout
Weapons: Small steel dagger; poison of all types; her eyes have a mesmerizing factor; has the power to almost control the masculine gender.
Appearance: 5’6” approx; very stunning/beautiful/get the pic.? Very slim; long brown hair, bright (and as mentioned before, powerful) hazel eyes; slightly tan/olive skin; good body; graceful and curving in the right areas (cuz I’m not gonna say what I should be saying if I was at school, but I’m sure you’ll understand when you read the bio). Dresses in short, as in very short and bright dresses, with a matching bra top, and sandals.
Bio: Angel was abandoned at birth, and found her way into the gutters of Esther. Had no schooling; but was trained in the art of dancing and entertaining. Sold to a brothel at about ten, where she started growing and training. By sixteen, she was a full-fledged entertainer/prostitute. Very dreamy and ideal, she grew tired of her pitiful existence, but knew it was her way to fame. By nineteen, she had hatched an elaborate plot, having performed in the castle many times. At one dance, she managed to seduce (using her powers) a far-flung relative of the Esther king who was staying at the castle at the time. She managed to get with him, but she also quickly drugged him with sleep powder before anything could happen. She then snuck around in the castle, and entered the Prince’s room. She mesmerized him with her eyes, and convinced him that she was his wife, and that his life mission was to serve her. However, just to her luck, the King popped in the very next minute, and being married, was no match for her (at this point, her developing power had no affect on the married men). She was put in the dungeon, and the spell was lifted off the prince. The next day, the King and his Council debated on her future. They decided that she had the potential to be a spy against the Korlis people, and so she spent a month in the dungeon, being trained as a spy, and in basic combat things. Finally, she was sold to a slave caravan on its way to Korlis. Along the way, she did what she had been doing since a child, entertaining, while being forced to sleep in cages and otherwise treated like a slave. Three months later, she was sold at the outskirts of Korlis, and soon escaped. She now roams the streets of Korlis, soliciting customers, and obtaining secret military information, which she passes on because she constantly meets other Estherians who are there to monitor her, and to catch her if she is not doing her mission (if she fails as a spy, she will face trial at Esther for her rather criminal activities with the prince, and the King really doesn’t like her). It is for this reason, the fear of humiliation that she continued for an entire year, growing more powerful. She is sneaky, quick, and tricky and seductive. Her bravery and lack of real book knowledge sometimes land her in trouble, and she really wishes to have no connections with Esther, but she is being blackmailed…

Meathos
January 14th, 2008, 01:06 PM
*Bump for the Purge*