Marishia-Forum based fantasy RPG Character and Geography Thread.

[blake]

This will be the Character Thread for the Fantasy Game. Post your characters stats, background, appearance, and anything else that may be relevant to the character. Also this thread will be the place for Geography descriptions along with setting and information on the political structure of the World of Marishia.

Marishia- The world in which the Story takes place, thought to have large undiscoverd continents, and home to numerous races, too numerous to name them all.

The known world of Marishia consists of 3 continents:

Elainex-The largest continent, consisting of the Counries of Astoria, Grantia, Brena and Ayil.

Grantia consists of large, barren deserts with sparse populations, of those are mostly mining colonies funded by the Ayil Empire. The Ayil Empire feels safe with these colonies because no one in their right mind would venture to attack a simple colony. Just because of the fact that Whole Armies have been lost in Sandstorms keeps the Orcs at bay, and allows the elves to do their mining in peace.

Ayil consists of HUGE forests, and beautiful beaches. It is an Island in the middle of Lake Ayil but it is still considered to be a part of Elainex even though the resident would like it to be considered its own continent. Ayil is home to the entire Elven population of Marishia and with this comes a constant struggle for control between the Mer. With the High Elven Cultures in the Tops of the Trees running the Political Structure, the Wood Elves running most of the Agricultural and Industrial jobs and the Drow or Dark elves under the surface running the smuggling and illicit activities. The Power has shifted numerous times while still staying in control of one, united "ELVEN EMPIRE" All the mer realise that as long as they stick together they can be as powerful as the human subgroups all apart.

Brena is one giant Volcano, only the toughest of Orcs can live here, it borders Astoria. The only reason anyone would come here is to mine the precious Jory, a precious substance, unbreakable by anything except other Jory. It is renown for its durability and is made into armor for only the richest nobles. Right now a power struggle is being waged between the Astorian Orcish Empire and The Elven Empire over mining colonies. The Orcs have the advantage, howerver slight, because they have a subgroup that lives there, the only problem is that the subgroup has an army whose armor is made completely out of Jory. And they refused to be conquered by anyone.

Astoria Home to the Orcish Empire, constantly at War with the Elves, and trying their hardest for the Jory, these people haven't known a peaceful time in thousands of years. But that is the way Orcs like it. Altough most would like to group the orcs all into a big stinky pile of Green, some of the most educated and visionary philosophers have came from Astoria. But when the population is so high, statistically a great mind has to be born every once in a while. Their numbers are huge, but the reason they haven't been able to conquer the Elves is the simple facts that they aren't as skilled or disciplined and most Orc's despise water. Giving the natural advantage to the Elves. What will become a problem is when the Elves began to feel their population growing and expansion off of their island onto the mainland, and Astoria Territory becomes a Neccesity.!

[blake]

Crasni-consists of thousands and thousands of tiny islands. Home to the Pixies, Halflings and Dwarves. The only thing that makes Crasni a Continent is the fact that the islands are so closely bunched together. There are 2 main Islands that hold cities:

Kaleb is the home of the Pixies, a mystical place, with flying Pixies all about. The most peaceful place in all of Marishia, the city is walled in with a magical aura provided by the Master Wizards inside the cities walls.

Werch is the Island of the Dwarves and the Halflings. Completely unsanitary in every way. Excrement of every kind flows down the streets. There are brothels and gambling houses on every street. There are no public baths and there is an extensive tunnel system going throughout the Island that the Dwarves and Halflings use to their advantage. Due to this tunnel, the Island has remained theirs since any known records were kept. Not that anyone would want such a smelly place anyway.

[blake]

Jrolle-A giant landmass where all the humanesque races reside. Dark skinned, Light skinned, Big, Little, Women, Men. All humans. They are fiercely divided by Skin Color and religion, with the Nomadic Dark Skinned Drakes in the North and the Educated Snobbish, haughty, light skinned Lrakes in the South. The Northern Lrake Empire is constantly trying to exterminate all the Drakes.

Drakola (Northern Jrolle) consists of Forests, Plains, and Deserts. The Drakes are nomadic and settle into Tribal Camps all around Drakola. There is no government, only a Main Chief or "Mazo" that is the head of all the Clans. He only comes into Power in times of War.

Lraza (Southern Jrolle) Home to the Upper Class Lrake Empire. Huge cities made entirely of Marble and Ivory cover the landscape of this Country. Cities never really end but flow into other cities, requiring heavy imports from the other continents. This heavy reliance on foreign trade has made the people angry and has led to a war between Drakola and Lraza for the land Drakola has.

[blake]

Essential NPC's and Important Figureheads-

Elainex

Queen Korania-Current Queen of the Ayil Empire. A Chaotic DarkElf/Drow Mix. Lighskinned and Beautiful, foreign ministers often misinterpret her true intentions it is too late. Has led the Ayil Empire into a time of Great Prosperity and an even more Brutal war with the Orcs.

King Grogra-King of Astoria, A well educated Orc raised in Southern Jrolle, he came back to rule his nation and to bring it to greatness against the Elves. His armies are fierce, and most of the Orcish Population respect his orders simpy out of fear.

Crasni

Tret-Master Mage of the Pixies, ruler of all of Kaleb. Although more of a figurehead over the past 900 years since the last war was won. Tall, Pale skinned, and very handsome, although very confusing, most who meet him generally enjoy his company.

Emperor Kraki Werch XVII-Emperor of the Halflings and Dwarves. His beard is 6 times his body length, but it doesn't get in his way because he doesn't walk. He is fed, bathed (bi-yearly), and sleeps on his throne. He posses the legendary Throky Hammer of Thunder, a 500 pound hammer that emits a Lighting Bolt into anyone it targets. Said to be blessed by a Dwarven God of War, as long as he is in possession of his hammer he will be ruler of Werch.

Jrolle

Issace the Cunning and Well Versed-A real jerk of a person. A snobby human who came to power in a fluke of an election of king. The former kings 3rd Nephew who was elected King only because the rest of the line to the throne mysteriously dissapeared. Not be thought dumb, he spent most of his early years in college studying all forms of knowledge available to him. He leads the Armies of Southern Jrolle with an Iron Fist making sure the have the best armor and weapons available. His only problem in the War on Northern Jrolle is the fact that the Nomads don't fight with any predictable patern. Until he can understand the way a laborer would think, he won't be able to prosper in his war.

[Magrus]

Krahdt Onyxshand, Dwarven Monk/Cleric

Origin:Werch, later Brena

Background: Krahdt grew up on the island of Werch and was born into a prominant dwarven family. He was spared the miserable conditions most of those on the island were subjected to when he was fostered at a monestary at a young age. He was taught the arts of fighting unarmed, extreme self-discipline and to follow a path of self-discovery and enlightenment.

Upon reaching his later teenage years, he was brought along on an endeavor to trade for some Jory for his monestary as a learning experience. However, when his envoy reached Brena to trade, they were betrayed by the merchants and everyone was ambushed. Most of the envoy were killed while trying to fight their way free. Only two of his elders and 5 students survived, including Krahdt. The orcs enslaved these 7 dwarves to use as smiths for their armories.

Krahdt learned how to fashion weapons and armor along with his former peers and masters, learning from some of the best weaponsmiths and armorsmiths there are alive. In time, the young dwarf snapped under the physical and mental strain he was forced to endure in the care of his brutal masters. Reaching out with the unmastered skills he had learned in the monestary, he sought help from someone, anyone and found a dark presence which promised revenge for him if he should serve. Krahdt, broken, beaten and driven mad from pain devoted himself to this dark deity and became his cleric. He worked all day as a smith under the orcs, and in his dreams he was bound to learn from his new lord. Within time, he slowly learned how to embrace the new power pulsing within him and wield it for his own uses. Enchanting a small hollow in the wall when he slept with an extra-dimensional space, he hid away scraps of Jory over the years as a slave.

After spending decades as a smith, secretly training as a dark priest, he gathered enough power to break free from his captors. Yet, he was bade to create a weapon to help spread the will of his lord one night. Shrouding himself within the unholy wards of his faith, he melded his years of training as a smith and the powers of a dark divine being into creating a powerful magical weapon, blessed by his god.

Now, bearing his hand-crafted spiked gloves, permanently bound to his skin and forged of Jory, he was released from his unholy wards and divine induced trance to be surrounded by orc guards attempting to break through his wards. Glancing down at his hands, covered in this metal he had worked with for the past decades, now crackling with dark light, he was broken from his examinate reverie when a club struck him against his back. Snarling, he drew upon the powers of his lord and dark bolts of energy flowed along his limbs and lashed out with the training he had been torn from in his childhood. Darkness fell in the smithy, and he went wild, striking at anything that came within reach with his fists. Bolts of ebony energy writhed along anything his fists encountered, burning and withering what he struck, feeding his own strength.

He torn the guards who had been his tormenters for years apart. His gloves leaving gaping wounds from the spikes and dark energy, while his past training as a monk lending him the knowledge to break bones with ease. Running from the smithy, he found the last two surviving members of his envoy, one another student, and the only elder left alive. Sheathed in the dark glory of his new master, they recoiled from his presence as he broke open their cells. Covered in the blood and gore of the guards, and a pulsing, dark glow he now represented the antithesis of his former order. They both attacked him and he was forced to slay them with his own hands. His last two friends were lying broken in the cell when he came to his senses as his bloodlust died down, hearing a squad of soldiers charging down into the pits where he was. Just as he was about to run off into the darkness, he heard a voice which brought back memories of torment, that of an orcish shaman. The one who had healed him after he had been tormented, only to torment him again with his magic. He walked towards the origin of the rushing footsteps he had heard. Standing in the entry way to the pits which had been his home for years, he saw them coming towards him, and the huge shaman behind them. The shaman tried to cast a spell to hold the dwarf where he was, but the spell melted off of Krahdt, throwing motes of darkness into the air around his gloves. Grinning, Krahdt raised his right hand, spat a word and darkness uncoiled from his fingers. Writhing in the air towards the shaman, it emenated extreme cold along the group of soldiers, freezing them where they stood until it struck the shaman in the chest. Now, bathed in an unholy glow, the shaman was unmade by the power of Krahdt's dark master, drawing his soul into the dark mist laying between them and it suddenly pulled back into his gloves. A new spike grew along the surface of his right glove, pulsing with an angry red glow where the shaman's soul now reside's to serve Krahdt.

His psyche has now split, between the young, idealistic and law-abiding dwarf before his years as a slave and that of a dark, twisted, vengeance seeking warrior priest. Situations of extreme stress or pain bring out this new, darker side of him which craves the blood of those who harm others at any cost. He escaped the island, leaving a trail of carnage and blood behind him, carrying with him only the slaves clothes on his back, and a small store of Jory which was left from his stash after crafting his new gloves. Stealing a boat, he sailed his way to a place he'd never been to before. Stumbling out of the boat, he made his way to a tavern and pushed the door open, collapsing into the common room, bloody and too exhausted to move.

[melancolly]

SOURAV . human barbarian/ranger

origin Northern Jrolle

background: sourav was born the second son of a chieftan in the northern deserts he grew up always playing second best to his older and stronger brother who was prepared from birth to take his farthers place , always being overlooked sourav started to wander and spend time away from his tribe in his teens sourav started to befriend animals and birds .

apon his 16 birthday a day when normally men in his tribe became warriors he was sumoned to his farthers tent and was told that he was to leave the tribe and make his own way in the world and only to return when he had become wealthy or brought great glory to his tribe .

this turn of events didnt worry sourav and he calmly picked up his longbow and throwing axes and didnt look back at his grining brother and just walkd away from his tribe , the next 7 years past with sourav wandering and befriending only an small hawk and stoping occasionaly visiting taverns to listern to people talk .

now he longs for adventure and companionship , siting in a tavern by the fire he over hears talk .......

[Darth Zenemij]

Argantes Shadowsong

Necromancer, Arcane Chosen one

Origin N/A

This Necromancer is extreamly young and powerfull, he has studied the ways of the Necromancers since the Arcanes took him in. He is about 24 years old and exceptionaly powerfull for his low level. He hopes to become a stong and powerfull necro someday. Only little have knowladge of a Necro around these parts. Argantes is a dark anti-christian, and slays all who are not willing to pledge alligence to him. In his days of training he has killed many orcs and is seeking to abolish the Elven kind. He hopes to have his ancestors of the Ancient Evil to be Revived and rule once more. Black magic has perverted him. The loss of his love Bethany sent Argantes to go and destroy the elven kind. His hatred for the elves grows deepley into his magics. Guilt is for letting Bliss and Xain on their Death Beds. If he would have stayed longer for them then they wouldn't have died. Bliss, Bethany's sister, Xain, Argantes brother. Xain is planning to go out and Destroy the elven colonley.

Argantes had one chance to let bliss and Xain, but he killed them himself along with King Leoric (can he be the older king?) He has spilled to much blood on no account at all.

[giles337]

There seems to be a distinct lack of a Paladin for this group

Name: Nathaniel Larbuck

Origin: Lrazan Exile

Background: Nathaniel was born, son of a human general, in a palatial home, in the centre of one of the major cities in Lraza. He was brought up as a fighter, learning to use a wooden sword and lance as soon as he could pick them up, and learning to ride sooner than he learnt to walk. At sixteen he was old enough to enter the Lrazan army, and he did so, although, rather than being given an easy job, as guard to a monk or cleric, Nathaniel demanded he find his own way through the ranks. He started as a regular John Q. footslogger, noone knowing his true rank. His easy, but often dark humour, and his quick wit made him both well accepted, and an apt leader to his troop, and he soon filled the position of captain. It soon became clear he was destined for great things. He fought well in tournaments, often paralelling, or bettering knights of vastly greater wealth, and with countless times better destriers, armour, and weapons than him, and he is rumoured to have unhorsed the king on one occasion. (Although this is arguable, as the king would never fight under his own name.) Everybody knew he was destined to become General, but he never let it go to his head, and was still happier drinking, and playing cards with his men than feasting with his officers. However one day he fell from grace...

It had been a hard winter, and a difficult one. Bandits and coredors had snuck into a town, and were refusing to pay taxes to the king. The townspeople carried on there daily lives, pledging allegiance to whoever had the power was the best way to survive. The town, due to its small size was considered insignificant by the king, and therfore he had only made spared one troop to retake it. This was the company led by Nate, and a company of archers, both led by a Sir Jack Simon. They had been trying to assault the walls of the town for a month, every attack repulsed by crossbows, when Nate returned one evening with good news. He had been scouting the river leasing into the town, (the same river that made siege impossible) and discovered that soem of the stakes driven into the river to protect assault had rotted. Nate would sneak in, and open the gate from the inside that very night. And he did.

Sir Jack had always held Nate in contempt, whether for his refusal to dine with the other officers, or other reasons, and there was always bitterness between the too. Nate being the one to take the town was even worse.

After the gates were open, and the soldiers were in the town crying havoc, with some of the older veterans attempting in vain to curb the wilder excesses, Nate wandered through the town, as if in a daze. He spied a tower at the south end of the city, an end fairly untouched so far by looting, and assuming a church, went to pray. He found not a church, but a large, and wealthy house, probably inhabited by coredors, possibly the leader, considering the obvious wealth of the house. He drew his sword and entered. That was when he heard the scream from upstairs. He took the stairs two at a tme, and entered the bedroom in time to see Sir Jack with his breeched down, cutting off a womans dress. The woman screamed, and attempted to cover her modesty, but Sir Jack slapped her with a mailed fist, and she fell to the bed.
This woman was obviously not a coredor, but a woman of the town, prbbaly a rich merchants husband. Nate didn't think twice, to protect the lady's honour he simply thrust his sword and Sir Jacks unprotected crotch. It was a moment of rash, youthful headstrongness, fueled by Nates bitterness toward Sir Jack. It was the moment it all fell apart for Nate. He could have, disguised it as a coredors attack, had one of Sir Jacks not had come to the doorway at that very moment. He immediately saw what had happened, and ran to tell someone. Nate attempted to give chase, but in is armour, could not catch the Unarmoured man at arms. Nate attempted to make the best of a bad thing, and salvaged Sir Jacks well crafted armour and sword, highly superior to your own. He left the building, saw Sir Jack horse outside (again, a very high quality destrier) mounted, and rode for his life.

Nate is a soldier of fortune, a good willed, well trained, natural born leader, who had been swung from high to low on the wheel of lifes fortune. He is quick to smile, although some do not understand his dark humour and sarcasm. He occasuionally has insecure, paranoid moments, but these are very rare. He is mild mannered and will take a lot of ribbing nefore he snaps, but when he does? You'd better watch out.

[Demortis]

Name: Antus Lightfeather
Origin:Ayil
Class: Druid
Race:Wood Elf

Background: Antus learned early on that the forest was a beatiful creature in its own right. Learning the ways of the forest he wishes to see that beauty shared and not destroyed. Antus lived in a burrow underground, like most animals. Thinking that, to understand creatures, one must live as them.

His animal companion is a baby raptor, about the size of a halfing, named Bandit. It was named so because he would steal food from Antus, and would always hide Antus's gear while in the den.

While living with the animals, Antus slowly learned to transform into some of them. Learning how to hunt, defend and attack like them.

(any thing else i might need to add?)

[Caden]

Name: Ruzlok (the Wretched)
Origin: Astoria
Class: Warrior
Race: Orc
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Background: Covered in scars, not much else is known about Ruzlok. Some say he is a fierce warrior who has seen more battles then most ever will. Others say he was a born weakling who avoids battle and gained his scars whilst fleeing from his enemies. Ruzlok was last said to be found in Jrolle working as a mercenary and travel guide.

He carries an axe made of Jory which can be effectively used in either two-handed or single handed combat. He also carries a shield made of Jory on his back which he may use in certain forms of fighting. The rest of his armor consists of layers of various leathers.