Vampunk
sʇɐq ןooɔ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ƃuıƃuɐɥ
rey]
Stonestride Tribe
The primal form of every giant, few remain of the Stonestride tribe, a once great clan of mountain forgers who shaped the planet's surface and brought contrast to a once stale world. They are creatures of few words and have been slumbering since the great wars, having been the only Titankin strong enough to form a lasting bulwark against their destructive brethren.
A Stonestrider's gift manifests in the power of shaping the very earth one would walk upon, creating ravines, craters, mountains, by commanding stone, pebble and boulder.
To be worthy of this power one shall rival them in stoicism, in resolve, and in sheer strength.
The primal form of every giant, few remain of the Stonestride tribe, a once great clan of mountain forgers who shaped the planet's surface and brought contrast to a once stale world. They are creatures of few words and have been slumbering since the great wars, having been the only Titankin strong enough to form a lasting bulwark against their destructive brethren.
A Stonestrider's gift manifests in the power of shaping the very earth one would walk upon, creating ravines, craters, mountains, by commanding stone, pebble and boulder.
To be worthy of this power one shall rival them in stoicism, in resolve, and in sheer strength.
Moltenmarch Tribe
Denizens of the molten heart of this world, the Moltenmarch Tribe ignited the planet's core. Fire is life, and this they know well, but it is also power.
Raw, destructive if wielded as a weapon, but also life-giving and primal as the world was in its birth.
To march with them means to become molten stone, a manifestation of heat and flame. One would own the warmth that stands against the darkness, the one that served as the basis for all life.
Being worthy of this blessing means being the owner of unmatched passion, a will to strive for greatness, to be like fire.
Denizens of the molten heart of this world, the Moltenmarch Tribe ignited the planet's core. Fire is life, and this they know well, but it is also power.
Raw, destructive if wielded as a weapon, but also life-giving and primal as the world was in its birth.
To march with them means to become molten stone, a manifestation of heat and flame. One would own the warmth that stands against the darkness, the one that served as the basis for all life.
Being worthy of this blessing means being the owner of unmatched passion, a will to strive for greatness, to be like fire.
Snowstep Tribe
Contrast is required for life to exist and those that leave blizzards in their wake are those native to the Snowstep Tribe. Their frigid approach was what tamed life, what made it unable to consume itself, and they provided the counter balance to the Moltenmarchers.
Frigid and calculating, they know their task and how much the mortals dread the frigid season, yet they are far from cold-hearted.
They are wise and resourceful and in their transitory seasons their bodies give water to support life.
They are masters over ice and snow, over the cold and over water, they are in constant flux and wield their element like a craftsman wields a chisel.
To share in their ways one must know their place in the world and strive to know the workings of this plane, to see what has to be done and do it, no matter what others may think of it.
Contrast is required for life to exist and those that leave blizzards in their wake are those native to the Snowstep Tribe. Their frigid approach was what tamed life, what made it unable to consume itself, and they provided the counter balance to the Moltenmarchers.
Frigid and calculating, they know their task and how much the mortals dread the frigid season, yet they are far from cold-hearted.
They are wise and resourceful and in their transitory seasons their bodies give water to support life.
They are masters over ice and snow, over the cold and over water, they are in constant flux and wield their element like a craftsman wields a chisel.
To share in their ways one must know their place in the world and strive to know the workings of this plane, to see what has to be done and do it, no matter what others may think of it.
Worldwalker Tribe
Wherever they go, nature is sure to follow. They brought life to the cradles their kin built, spreading mortal existence across the once dreary plane. They are timid and tempered, resilient and unmoving. They are the soil on which all life grows, plant and animal alike.
They are able to bring out the potential of mortal life, nurturing it and shaping it for greatness.
Their touch can make the smallest seed surge forth into the tallest tree, heal wounds that would mean certain death, or alter life to suit the needs of survival.
Only those with a pure heart and those who treasure life in its entirety are worthy of a Worldwalker's will.
Wherever they go, nature is sure to follow. They brought life to the cradles their kin built, spreading mortal existence across the once dreary plane. They are timid and tempered, resilient and unmoving. They are the soil on which all life grows, plant and animal alike.
They are able to bring out the potential of mortal life, nurturing it and shaping it for greatness.
Their touch can make the smallest seed surge forth into the tallest tree, heal wounds that would mean certain death, or alter life to suit the needs of survival.
Only those with a pure heart and those who treasure life in its entirety are worthy of a Worldwalker's will.
Sunder
Once they were like their kin. Proud, strong and the only beings powerful enough to withstand the cruel sphere that was a primordial world. They were the gnashing cold teeth of oblivion, the certainty of death, the inevitability of decay.
They were the power that chipped away at everything...
And they lived with their brethren, marching across lifeless planes with no clear purpose.
But when life bloomed on this once dead planet, they would despise it.
No longer kings of their own world, they would seek to destroy all mortal life...
Their fate remains a mystery and no Giantfolk dares utter their true names, for they are only known as Sunder...A sign for the end.
Once they were like their kin. Proud, strong and the only beings powerful enough to withstand the cruel sphere that was a primordial world. They were the gnashing cold teeth of oblivion, the certainty of death, the inevitability of decay.
They were the power that chipped away at everything...
And they lived with their brethren, marching across lifeless planes with no clear purpose.
But when life bloomed on this once dead planet, they would despise it.
No longer kings of their own world, they would seek to destroy all mortal life...
Their fate remains a mystery and no Giantfolk dares utter their true names, for they are only known as Sunder...A sign for the end.
Golems
Constructs of the great Giants, Golems are what pebbles are to mountains.
They are only a fragment of the titanic power that shaped the earth, and yet they are those who protected life when their larger kin could not.
They are guardians of knowledge, teachers of mortals, they are just as cold as the stone from which they were forged, eternally bound to their task.
They would watch over the first mortal sentience and guide them to greatness, providing them with what they needed to maybe one day walk among giants.
Constructs of the great Giants, Golems are what pebbles are to mountains.
They are only a fragment of the titanic power that shaped the earth, and yet they are those who protected life when their larger kin could not.
They are guardians of knowledge, teachers of mortals, they are just as cold as the stone from which they were forged, eternally bound to their task.
They would watch over the first mortal sentience and guide them to greatness, providing them with what they needed to maybe one day walk among giants.
Myrefolk
The Myrefolk are neither giant, nor mortal life. They are rock imbued with life. Bound to die, but also bound to grow, learn and live like other mortals.
They are silent watchers of the younger races, reclusive and secretive.
But kindness warms their bodies of stone and nature.
They live where life blooms the brightest, lending their aid where Golems could not.
For they possess something their colder kin does not.
A heart.[/COLOR]
The Myrefolk are neither giant, nor mortal life. They are rock imbued with life. Bound to die, but also bound to grow, learn and live like other mortals.
They are silent watchers of the younger races, reclusive and secretive.
But kindness warms their bodies of stone and nature.
They live where life blooms the brightest, lending their aid where Golems could not.
For they possess something their colder kin does not.
A heart.[/COLOR]
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