Crocodile
Mister Zero
If there is room, I would like to state my interest.
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(Exalted) Shining on the Land of Fate [Forum] [Dice]
- Thread starter Red Shadow Claws
- Start date
Unbridled Originality
Stole your Sweetroll
Made a backstory. It's a hack-and-slash job, and will probably be refined, but yeah, this is the character I'm thinking of playing.
No self-respecting caravan would leave the small town of Surinpata without blades and spears emblazoned with the maker's mark of the Malak family. Their weapons were lacking in adornment, true, but those who considered this a failing never spoke their beliefs too loudly, for fear of being called upon to test their mettle. The simplicity of their arms was intentional, hearkening back to the family's ancient motto: "A weapon is but a tool whose work is death. It is those who wield them that create art."
Chanda Malak never asked for much. He was a smith, the son of smiths, and shared the simple tastes of a master crafter; a warm bed, a hot forge, and good steel to shape. His family, extremely traditionalist Al-Hadhar, lived together in a close-knit group, the elders teaching the younger generations their secret arts of forging, so that the knowledge of crafting Malak steel would not be lost to the mists of time, and Chanda thrived in this environment. The boy showed an aptitude for smithing from a young age, and by his tenth birthday was apprenticed to his grandfather, Ramesh Malak. Under his grandfather's harsh tutelage, Chanda's natural talent for shaping steel grew. Had Fate not intervened, Chanda would have perhaps become the greatest mortal blacksmith to walk the sands of Zakhara. That most mysterious of arbiters, however, had a different plan.
When each male Malak reaches the age of maturity, they are set upon a pilgrimage, to travel for one year with an acquainted Al-Baidan family, the Sintiq, providing them with the martial supply they require to survive in the wilderness and learning to live as a nomad in return. Those who undertake this journey, as Chanda did, are adopted into the Sintiq, becoming one of their name and learning all of their customs. If, at the end of the year, the Sintiq deem that the new family member has comported themselves well, they are betrothed to one of their daughters and returned to the Malak, thus cementing the strong ties between the nomadic family and the blacksmiths.
When Chanda reached the age of eighteen, he was sent away with the Sintiq with nothing but his tools, a sword forged by his grandfather, and the Malak family heirloom; a medallion of beautiful gold, said to be given in payment for a job by one of the lost God-Kings. Two weeks from his triumphant return to Surinpata, the caravan was attacked by bandits, leaving the Sintiq decimated; their women taken off into the mountains, their young men slain on the sands. Only Chanda survived, of those under the age of sixty, and though he was grievously wounded, he set off after the bandits with vengeance in his heart.
Upon arriving at their mountain stronghold, he bellowed out a challenge to the cowards who had ambushed the caravan and carried off the daughters of the Sintiq. The sight of a young man, muscled though he was from his work as a smith, threatening a fortress full of heartless killers was almost too much for them to bear, and they laughed at him. But he persisted, demanding to see their leader, and, finally, they allowed him in.
Their leader was a Lunar, long on years and short on sanity. He was himself father to a great number of the bandits, who bore the mutations of their unnatural parentage. He also laughed at the idea of someone barely out of his childhood challenging him to single combat, though when Chanda called him a coward, he agreed.
The battle was fierce, but Chanda was clearly outmatched by the creature who faced him. Chanda held the sword he had been gifted by his family, the Lunar a grand daiklave forged from moonsilver, that shifted and flowed around Chanda's guard. The young man took wound after wound, but would not go down Not until his blade was shattered into bits by a particularly fierce blow from his Exalted adversary, the force of the blow driving him to his knees.
It was then, as the bandit king raised his massive blade, that Chanda heard the voice of a god. "You have been chosen," it said, strength filling his failing limbs. Almost without thinking, he reached up and caught the blade, rising from the floor with the light of the sun itself burning upon his brow. The Lunar found his strength matched, exceeded even, as the new Solar Exalt drove him back against the wall with the half-broken blade of his grandfather's sword. He left the bandit king impaled upon the wall by his own greatsword, and the fortress a charnel house as he hunted for the stolen Sintiq.
He found them. What was left of them, anyways. The beastmen had been merciful to most, for a given value of the term. That is, most of them had been killed and eaten. The few that remained were worse than dead, broken completely by the trauma of their experience. With some coaxing, he was able to lead them back to their family, where they would at least be cared for, before vanishing into the mountains again.
When he emerged from the bandit stronghold once more, Chanda the boy had died. In his place walked Thousandfold Thunders, Solar Exalt of the Dawn Caste. Clad in gleaming mail and bearing Vajra, a blade forged from the disc once gifted to the Malaks by a forgotten god and the blades of a hundred bandits in his right hand, he wandered the desert, seeking out injustice and those who preyed upon the weak wherever he could find them.
Chanda Malak never asked for much. He was a smith, the son of smiths, and shared the simple tastes of a master crafter; a warm bed, a hot forge, and good steel to shape. His family, extremely traditionalist Al-Hadhar, lived together in a close-knit group, the elders teaching the younger generations their secret arts of forging, so that the knowledge of crafting Malak steel would not be lost to the mists of time, and Chanda thrived in this environment. The boy showed an aptitude for smithing from a young age, and by his tenth birthday was apprenticed to his grandfather, Ramesh Malak. Under his grandfather's harsh tutelage, Chanda's natural talent for shaping steel grew. Had Fate not intervened, Chanda would have perhaps become the greatest mortal blacksmith to walk the sands of Zakhara. That most mysterious of arbiters, however, had a different plan.
When each male Malak reaches the age of maturity, they are set upon a pilgrimage, to travel for one year with an acquainted Al-Baidan family, the Sintiq, providing them with the martial supply they require to survive in the wilderness and learning to live as a nomad in return. Those who undertake this journey, as Chanda did, are adopted into the Sintiq, becoming one of their name and learning all of their customs. If, at the end of the year, the Sintiq deem that the new family member has comported themselves well, they are betrothed to one of their daughters and returned to the Malak, thus cementing the strong ties between the nomadic family and the blacksmiths.
When Chanda reached the age of eighteen, he was sent away with the Sintiq with nothing but his tools, a sword forged by his grandfather, and the Malak family heirloom; a medallion of beautiful gold, said to be given in payment for a job by one of the lost God-Kings. Two weeks from his triumphant return to Surinpata, the caravan was attacked by bandits, leaving the Sintiq decimated; their women taken off into the mountains, their young men slain on the sands. Only Chanda survived, of those under the age of sixty, and though he was grievously wounded, he set off after the bandits with vengeance in his heart.
Upon arriving at their mountain stronghold, he bellowed out a challenge to the cowards who had ambushed the caravan and carried off the daughters of the Sintiq. The sight of a young man, muscled though he was from his work as a smith, threatening a fortress full of heartless killers was almost too much for them to bear, and they laughed at him. But he persisted, demanding to see their leader, and, finally, they allowed him in.
Their leader was a Lunar, long on years and short on sanity. He was himself father to a great number of the bandits, who bore the mutations of their unnatural parentage. He also laughed at the idea of someone barely out of his childhood challenging him to single combat, though when Chanda called him a coward, he agreed.
The battle was fierce, but Chanda was clearly outmatched by the creature who faced him. Chanda held the sword he had been gifted by his family, the Lunar a grand daiklave forged from moonsilver, that shifted and flowed around Chanda's guard. The young man took wound after wound, but would not go down Not until his blade was shattered into bits by a particularly fierce blow from his Exalted adversary, the force of the blow driving him to his knees.
It was then, as the bandit king raised his massive blade, that Chanda heard the voice of a god. "You have been chosen," it said, strength filling his failing limbs. Almost without thinking, he reached up and caught the blade, rising from the floor with the light of the sun itself burning upon his brow. The Lunar found his strength matched, exceeded even, as the new Solar Exalt drove him back against the wall with the half-broken blade of his grandfather's sword. He left the bandit king impaled upon the wall by his own greatsword, and the fortress a charnel house as he hunted for the stolen Sintiq.
He found them. What was left of them, anyways. The beastmen had been merciful to most, for a given value of the term. That is, most of them had been killed and eaten. The few that remained were worse than dead, broken completely by the trauma of their experience. With some coaxing, he was able to lead them back to their family, where they would at least be cared for, before vanishing into the mountains again.
When he emerged from the bandit stronghold once more, Chanda the boy had died. In his place walked Thousandfold Thunders, Solar Exalt of the Dawn Caste. Clad in gleaming mail and bearing Vajra, a blade forged from the disc once gifted to the Malaks by a forgotten god and the blades of a hundred bandits in his right hand, he wandered the desert, seeking out injustice and those who preyed upon the weak wherever he could find them.
hellrazoromega
Department of Redundancy Department.
Yeah I like Sherwood am running 4 or I would do it.
[QUOTE="Action Replay]Seems I arrived too late. Alas. I wish the rest of you better luck than last time.
[/QUOTE][QUOTE="Red Shadow Claws]This is not a first come first served. It wouldn't be fair to those who were working/sleeping/or otherwise busy.
[/QUOTE]
So submit a character/concept anyway!
[/QUOTE][QUOTE="Red Shadow Claws]This is not a first come first served. It wouldn't be fair to those who were working/sleeping/or otherwise busy.
[/QUOTE]
So submit a character/concept anyway!
hellrazoromega
Department of Redundancy Department.
I have an concept but I guess I should ask what the selection criteria will be so I know if I should post it or save it for another game.
Action Replay
Bringing Dynamic to Entry
Night Caste: Al-Badian thief, swindler, and all around rogue...is what you'd swear him to be upon seeing his face beneath the robes. Born to a family where large summarizes everything. Large stature, large numbers, and an overly large honor. Tamaenya was born as their contrast, stunted and malformed. Coming into the world paler than milk with strange pupils, he reached up cooing at his mother with hands missing their ring digits. Greeted by his mother and sister's screams, Tamaenya's cries soon drowned out their own at the hurtful noise. When his father and brothers hurriedly threw open the flap to the tent, they rose loud enough to startle the beasts in the field. Upon touching his skin, the sun mercilessly seared his flesh black and broken with scarred cracks tainting his features. Hurriedly moving Tamaenya out of the sun, violent emotions stirred within the tent as they wondered what manner of curse had befallen them. One of the elder brothers of the clan, a shaman, declared the child to be strange but no daemon or evil spirit. Once decreed they hurriedly rushed to save the child despite their unease as all births are welcomed, for to deny the bonds of blood would be the worst offense in the land of fate. Barely hanging to life, Tamaenya would survive his first trial but the marks of it would stay with him for life.
Indeed, the charred flesh never returned to snow as the years passed. Instead it drew tightly over the frame like old leather, with the scars stretching into the new shapes in an erratic map. Always was he clothed in bandages and cloth that one might never see even the eyes of him though the clan belonged to no sect as he went about helping the family's travels. Unlike his broad and powerful brothers, Tamaenya's body was bent and wretched, but his mind and tongue were quick when he did choose to speak. Which was very rarely at all, he hated to draw attention to himself and took great pains to remain out of sight. When he failed he was showered in the one thing that pained him the most. More than the sun's hateful gaze or his body, it was their overwhelming love that caused him the most suffering. No one was made to feel more a part of the family than Tamaenya, and that was the very thing that made him realize how far apart from it he stood in their hearts.
Behind each kind word and warm gesture there was a minute unease no matter how well hidden. At first, he remained unaware of this fact for a good many years. It was not until his eighth summer visiting a group of Al-Hadar that the distancing revelation came. They were at the hospitality of an old acquaintance of the family's patriarch, and a great feast was laid out to welcome them. Tantalizing scents and sweet music filled the huge home as both families greeted each other, moving to the large spread laid out. Excited for the grand event, Tamaenya undid his hood and bandages upon eagerly sitting down at the table. Slowly, the room became very still as laughs froze in confusion. Steadily, it drew the rest of the revel to a halt as Tamaenya's appearance became noticed. Worriedly, he glanced at his father in confusion. Had he done something to offend the host's honor? To the extent of his knowledge, the customs of purity were not strict here. The host made a strange laugh, dismissing it with a wave as the festivities continued in earnest. Pushing the uncomfortable weight from his mind, Tamaenya enjoyed the rest of the feast in a night filled with joy.
At this point I was going to continue for another good twenty paragraphs but realized its late and I owe some things in games I've been accepted into. Which I hope to get done tonight. So the summarized version:
Realizes no one will ever make eye contact with him including his own family. Becomes painfully aware of how malformed he is from everyone else and all the little things he was too young to see before. How when something went wrong he would always get a look quickly disguised to be fore something else. Even among family. Continues on for years until late early adulthood in subversion double standard of the culture until his caravan is attacked by bandits who come back later seeking hospitality. Who then promptly poison and enslave the clan which T misses out on due to avoiding the guests in question as usual. Gets into a mental and spiritual wrestling match with his cultural beliefs over how he would never stand to win in an honorable fight and if dishonorable discourse he had always been suspected of was justified. Eventually comes to find his own brand of honor in dishonor, with the conviction that he clearly wasn't born for an eternal reward to begin with if it existed. Sneaking around the camp he begins dispatching the bandits when they fall into a drunken stupor from their success. The few who remain awake he tricks into falling onto each other by stealing various precious possessions and hiding them just within sight of each other....on the other's person. Freeing his family, he exalts as a night caste solar while suffering a brief terror attack as old trauma flares up. Literally. Made even more confusing by his body fixing it's deformed bone structure, sun weakness and perpetual lack of energy, but not his appearance or fingers. Uncertain to this day, Tamaenya believes he then heard an unfamiliar voice speak briefly to him. Refusing to share it's message with his family, Tamaenya took it as a sign and departed from his family to wander Zakhara. What crimes that could not be answered by fate's honor would answer to his own.
Edit: @RCa So I did.
Indeed, the charred flesh never returned to snow as the years passed. Instead it drew tightly over the frame like old leather, with the scars stretching into the new shapes in an erratic map. Always was he clothed in bandages and cloth that one might never see even the eyes of him though the clan belonged to no sect as he went about helping the family's travels. Unlike his broad and powerful brothers, Tamaenya's body was bent and wretched, but his mind and tongue were quick when he did choose to speak. Which was very rarely at all, he hated to draw attention to himself and took great pains to remain out of sight. When he failed he was showered in the one thing that pained him the most. More than the sun's hateful gaze or his body, it was their overwhelming love that caused him the most suffering. No one was made to feel more a part of the family than Tamaenya, and that was the very thing that made him realize how far apart from it he stood in their hearts.
Behind each kind word and warm gesture there was a minute unease no matter how well hidden. At first, he remained unaware of this fact for a good many years. It was not until his eighth summer visiting a group of Al-Hadar that the distancing revelation came. They were at the hospitality of an old acquaintance of the family's patriarch, and a great feast was laid out to welcome them. Tantalizing scents and sweet music filled the huge home as both families greeted each other, moving to the large spread laid out. Excited for the grand event, Tamaenya undid his hood and bandages upon eagerly sitting down at the table. Slowly, the room became very still as laughs froze in confusion. Steadily, it drew the rest of the revel to a halt as Tamaenya's appearance became noticed. Worriedly, he glanced at his father in confusion. Had he done something to offend the host's honor? To the extent of his knowledge, the customs of purity were not strict here. The host made a strange laugh, dismissing it with a wave as the festivities continued in earnest. Pushing the uncomfortable weight from his mind, Tamaenya enjoyed the rest of the feast in a night filled with joy.
At this point I was going to continue for another good twenty paragraphs but realized its late and I owe some things in games I've been accepted into. Which I hope to get done tonight. So the summarized version:
Realizes no one will ever make eye contact with him including his own family. Becomes painfully aware of how malformed he is from everyone else and all the little things he was too young to see before. How when something went wrong he would always get a look quickly disguised to be fore something else. Even among family. Continues on for years until late early adulthood in subversion double standard of the culture until his caravan is attacked by bandits who come back later seeking hospitality. Who then promptly poison and enslave the clan which T misses out on due to avoiding the guests in question as usual. Gets into a mental and spiritual wrestling match with his cultural beliefs over how he would never stand to win in an honorable fight and if dishonorable discourse he had always been suspected of was justified. Eventually comes to find his own brand of honor in dishonor, with the conviction that he clearly wasn't born for an eternal reward to begin with if it existed. Sneaking around the camp he begins dispatching the bandits when they fall into a drunken stupor from their success. The few who remain awake he tricks into falling onto each other by stealing various precious possessions and hiding them just within sight of each other....on the other's person. Freeing his family, he exalts as a night caste solar while suffering a brief terror attack as old trauma flares up. Literally. Made even more confusing by his body fixing it's deformed bone structure, sun weakness and perpetual lack of energy, but not his appearance or fingers. Uncertain to this day, Tamaenya believes he then heard an unfamiliar voice speak briefly to him. Refusing to share it's message with his family, Tamaenya took it as a sign and departed from his family to wander Zakhara. What crimes that could not be answered by fate's honor would answer to his own.
Edit: @RCa So I did.
Last edited by a moderator:
Silent Wayfarer
This is my spirit animal
I don't want to throw walls of text at the ST. If I'm selected, I'll expand on the backgrounds, if not, too bad. 
Unbridled Originality
Stole your Sweetroll
That's why I put mine behind a spoiler.
Action Replay
Bringing Dynamic to Entry
Please. That's an impassable waist high fence™
hellrazoromega
Department of Redundancy Department.
[QUOTE="Silent Wayfarer]I don't want to throw walls of text at the ST. If I'm selected, I'll expand on the backgrounds, if not, too bad. :tongue:
[/QUOTE]
Ditto
[/QUOTE]
Ditto
Red Shadow Claws
Six Thousand Club
Solars have not been seen at all here in the past 1,500 years or so. And while people here revere the god-kings, they do not call them Exalted, and furthermore, they don't have much in the way of sun imagery.
As for the selecting players, I might ask for a background story, but for now I haven't even finished putting together the info on the area. Once that is done, which might take a few days, I will ask people to resubmit a short, one paragraph concept.
I don't think I'll take more than 5 players, and while i'd love to have 2 games running, I don't think i can do that at this time, not without snagging both of them due to overload from RL. And I'm not even working at this time.
As for the selecting players, I might ask for a background story, but for now I haven't even finished putting together the info on the area. Once that is done, which might take a few days, I will ask people to resubmit a short, one paragraph concept.
I don't think I'll take more than 5 players, and while i'd love to have 2 games running, I don't think i can do that at this time, not without snagging both of them due to overload from RL. And I'm not even working at this time.
Red Shadow Claws
Six Thousand Club
Bad news, we will need to postpone the start of this game, due to health issues of my father. I'm sorry for raising people's hopes up.
Skari-dono
Senior Member
Aww shucks. Hopefully your father will feel better soon. Family comes first 
Unbridled Originality
Stole your Sweetroll
Oh, jeez. I hope things get better soon. You've gotta put family first.
Silent Wayfarer
This is my spirit animal
Red Shadow Claws
Six Thousand Club
For those who might be interested in Sorcery, here's a link to a PDF that contains Limited Reagent's Sorcery Rewrite.
Red Shadow Claws
Six Thousand Club
Sorry for the delay. Things are getting back to normal soon, and I wanted to start this again. I've done a rewrite of the intro.
Anyone interested, please post a short character idea, and Caste. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Anyone interested, please post a short character idea, and Caste. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Silent Wayfarer
This is my spirit animal
Quick blurb: Princess who masquerades as a male and launches daring raids from claw strider/austrechback. Dawn Caste.
Last edited by a moderator:
Cirno
Sleepwalking Fairy
Name: Kunto Zhanbene
Origin: of the Shayanti People in Harborhead
Caste: Twilight
Concept: Engineer, de-facto second in command for the branch of the family business being established in the Land of Fate.
Was a war engineer in her original incarnation. Can shift to shipwright to make more sense with the merchant business. Also, how do Zakhara feel about slavery?
Origin: of the Shayanti People in Harborhead
Caste: Twilight
Concept: Engineer, de-facto second in command for the branch of the family business being established in the Land of Fate.
Was a war engineer in her original incarnation. Can shift to shipwright to make more sense with the merchant business. Also, how do Zakhara feel about slavery?
Silent Wayfarer
This is my spirit animal
Is she a nineball? 
Unbridled Originality
Stole your Sweetroll
Name: Ten-Thousand Thunders
Origin: Scion of a famous Al-Hadari black smithing family.
Caste: Eclipse
Concept: Wandering do-gooder who forges his own weapons to commemorate the lives he's saved.
His story is earlier in the thread, but TL
R:
Born to family famous for unadorned but deadly blades.
Apprenticed to an Al-Badian family to learn survival skills in exchange for working as their smith
Tried to save them from Beastmen bandits
Exalted fighting their Lunar chief.
Wanders the Land of Fate righting wrongs wherever he can find them.
Origin: Scion of a famous Al-Hadari black smithing family.
Caste: Eclipse
Concept: Wandering do-gooder who forges his own weapons to commemorate the lives he's saved.
His story is earlier in the thread, but TL
R:Born to family famous for unadorned but deadly blades.
Apprenticed to an Al-Badian family to learn survival skills in exchange for working as their smith
Tried to save them from Beastmen bandits
Exalted fighting their Lunar chief.
Wanders the Land of Fate righting wrongs wherever he can find them.
Name: Al-Malik al Kamil Sayf al-Shams Abu'l-Hacen Roshan i Bahram i Omid al-Mutanabbi
Origin: Local bastard
Caste: Twilight, Zenith, or Eclipse as needed
Concept Sorcerer-Sultan who gained great power bargaining with spirits and mediating between various peoples.
Origin: Local bastard
Caste: Twilight, Zenith, or Eclipse as needed
Concept Sorcerer-Sultan who gained great power bargaining with spirits and mediating between various peoples.
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Silent Wayfarer
This is my spirit animal
Damn, but he has a long name.
Seeker of the End
Two Thousand Club
Name: Ajani
Origin: Exile and pariah of a burned village
Caste: Dawn or Zenith
Concept: Pariah turned wandering hero through exaltation.
Selected as a the traditional Root of All Evil, aka the scapegoat for every single crime and evil.
Bandits attacked and slaughtered every single one except him
Exalted and slaughtered every bandit there
Finds lost tomb filled with artifacts and weapons
Wanders around righting the wrongs in the Realm.
Origin: Exile and pariah of a burned village
Caste: Dawn or Zenith
Concept: Pariah turned wandering hero through exaltation.
Selected as a the traditional Root of All Evil, aka the scapegoat for every single crime and evil.
Bandits attacked and slaughtered every single one except him
Exalted and slaughtered every bandit there
Finds lost tomb filled with artifacts and weapons
Wanders around righting the wrongs in the Realm.
Last edited by a moderator:
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