The God that ruled over Messenia was a benign and great God, and it made sure its lands were cared for and safe. However, it wasn't perfect; just like everything else, it too had flaws. Its flaws were nothing unusual; the same flaws everyone carries in them. But when a God has these flaws, they are called sins. Apathy. Arrogance. Envy. Cowardice. Rage. Lust. Pride. And from these sins - the Original Sins - the six races of Messenia were born. From the God's apathy, the Humes were born; human and blessed with equivalent skill in all things, with just the faintest touch of apathy for others. From the God's arrogance, the Elves were born; tall and thin, blessed with great strength and an affinity for white magic, with an air of arrogance to everything they did. From the God's envy, the Hussar were born; a matriarchal society with somewhat savage tendencies, blessed with incredible grace and speed, but forever envious of those with more. From the God's cowardice, the Iali were born; a long-living and slow-aging race, blessed with a vast affinity for all schools of magic but with a cowardly nature woven into their very beings. From the God's rage, the Demark were born; a patriarchal society of stern male warriors, blessed with great endurance and fortitude but forever on the verge of rage. From God's lust, the Sirens were born; a dangerous and devious matriarchal society with free and lusting ways, having no care in the world. And finally, from the God's pride, the Soulithe were born; a strong and animalistic ( quite literally ) race of different species, taking on from bears to cats to even lizards, having pride for their strength among other races.
These races were not driven solely by these inherent sins - they were people, and they lived and breathed and loved - but they forever had a touch of the God's own sin in them. And disgusted with its own flaws, the God sealed its very essence away, part of its soul, and cast the sealed parts away. However, even though it was the flaws the God sealed away, the flaws were still apart of its soul; in casting away its flaws, it caused the God to weaken.
The God fell into slumber.
However, these shards - the God's essence - had enough of a power to them even with the God sleeping to create life for themselves; in order to protect themselves, the shards created for themselves a living facade, and when that creature died, would repeat the process. Animal or humanoid alike, the shards existed alongside the races their very essence created.
The world continued to turn, progress, and grow, and the five races of Messenia found their niches and grew to excel in their own activities. The Humes, ever skilled and so inventive, became the masters of engineering, carving their home nation of Rabana out of mountain and stone and turning it into the center of the industrial world, creating airships and firearms like no other. The Elves, so proud and devout, established their Kingdom of Elias in the thick forests to the nort-westh of Rabana, becoming the one nation that still worshiped the God in all its glory. To the south, in the raging waters of the great ocean, The Hussar united their tribes on the ring of islands known as Belgrad, thick with jungles and teeming with the most exotic wildlife in all of Messenia; they excelled as hunters and survivors, and have become the most resilient and ferocious mercenaries in the world. The Iali, who still look so very young even well into adulthood, established their home nation of Fortuna on the vast plains of the continent across the ocean from Rabana and Belgrad, and quickly became the academic and magical center of the world. The Demark carved their home nation of Zeinn out of the arid deserts of an island just south of Rabana; the sand smoothed their rough edges till they became a nation of well-oiled machines, rigid and relentless. The Sirens, beneath the raging waves and east of the Hussar they created a spherical dome called Cionive, close to the barrier reefs and aquatic animals nearby where music and love fulfilled their ever-flowing lust. The Soulithe, south of Elias, created Horgrove within the steep hills and mountains of the grassy biome, accustoming the natural and animalistic nature.
And while originally each race and nation kept to themselves, over time ships and horses broke boundaries, and the nations began to trade wisdom and beliefs; these days, it is not uncommon to see a Hume in the deserts of Zeinn or an Iali in the forests of Elias - though the majority of the populations still inhabit their native lands - and there is almost no hostility between the nations. However, there is hostility elsewhere; in the forests, the mountains, the savanna, the jungles and the deserts, creatures both dangerous and ferocious lurk. And with the merging of knowledge and the need to unite against these creature, the class system was born. While there are merchant and shop keepers and politicians and the people needed to keep the cities and nations running, a huge percent of the population of all five nations are adventurers - combatants who brave the wilds and the creatures there for a variety of reasons. Each adventurer has excelled in one particular school of combat and skill, and that is referred to as their "class".
However, even without the God's influence, the world still turns.
And sometimes, things go wrong.
There is a story handed down in the shadows of society that if one can find the six shards, bring them together, and then destroy their mortal shells at once, you can return the Original Sins to God, and awaken it. There are people who murmur dissent, unhappy with the abandonment of their God, and they have banded together, known as The Hunters, to find the other shards - they do not consider the shards living creatures, even if they are externally, and have no qualms about killing them off. This group, a mix of races and classes from across Messenia, have acquired a plan to find the other shards.
All is not lost, though - people have heard of this group as well, and have begun to come together, known as The Guardians, to try and stop them and protect the shards; they feel that they've existed long enough without the God, there's no need to sacrifice innocent people to awaken it. It won't be easy - the shards can exist as the fly on the wall or the person you pass on the street and everything in between, and the only ones who can tell the shards apart from any other being are the shards themselves. As if facing each other wasn't enough, both groups will have to face the very worst the wilds of Messenia can throw at them; crossing the world and exploring the very depths of the darkest and most unknown regions in the world.
These two groups, The Guardians and The Hunters, have a wide variety of people with their own motives, reasons, and skills in each group.
This quest is anyone's game.
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______《 SHARDS 》
Shards are sentient, living beings, objects or creatures - but at the same time, they're not quite normal. Shards can be anyone or anything, and live normal lives, and eventually die of old age. However, the one thing that distinguishes Shards from normal is that in a life or death situation, the Shard can access a pooled memory; that is, the Shard can pull the memories and abilities of all of their previous lives. This can be very powerful, but it is still limited by the physical strength and endurance of the Shard's current form. The knowledge does not stay with them, either - once the crisis has been averted, they return to being just a normal person, object or creature. This can be very dangerous for anyone who seeks to challenge or control a shard, especially if the Shard is in prime condition in its current form. You have five of them, based on the sins.
______《 ADVENTURERS 》
The term "Adventurer" is not only an occupation but a title; those who are formally registered as a Adventurer and have established themselves with a class gain many benefits normal citizens do not. Adventurers receive free lodging at any government building in any of the five nations, and can cross borders with little hassle. Adventurers pay low prices for necessary goods like survival supplies and weapons, and are often given discounts above and beyond that, depending on their rank and standing. Being an Adventurer has its burdens as well though - you are expected to be able to fight on a moment's notice, and the government of your home nations - whichever you're allied to - can order you to fight not too differently from a soldier. Adventuring is a highly dangerous lifestyle; since the God fell into slumber, the world has become overrun with wild creatures that would gladly tear any hapless Adventurer apart.
______《 CLASSES 》
The class system is a system accepted across Messenia to categorize the wide array of adventurers by their strengths, weaknesses, and abilities. There are "inbetween" or "Hybrid" classes, and many can change their class or own two at any moment; to be considered an "adventurer" and receive the perks and freedom that come along with this title, you must declare yourself one of the established classes. Some are purely defensive or supportive, and some are made purely for combat. All have strength and weaknesses, and all have their place in the lifestyle of adventurers.
______《 HUMES 》
Humes are, quite literally, the jack of all trades, and the master of none. They live in Rabana, a thriving city of stone and granite ruled by an elected president that is home to most of the greatest inventors in Messenia. The population of Rabana is mostly Humes, but there is a sizable amount of Demark residing in Rabana as well, as well as minor populations of the other three races. Humes do well in every class, and do not do poorly in any - but they will never be as skilled as the other races in certain fields. They are the humans of the Messenia world.
______《 ELVES 》
Elves are typically tall, with a lithe, muscled frame. They are the tallest of the five races, the very shortest of the adults averaging at around six feet tall; their other trademark is their pointed ears. Although, not all elves are tall, especially among the women. Elves excel in strength and white magic, and rogue agility based classes. A proud (bordering on arrogance) people, the elves are the only race who is uncomfortable sharing their home nation with the other races - for that reason, nearly 95% of Elias is elves. Elias is a Kingdom - the only Kingdom among the five nations - and is ruled by the King. Elias is a solemn and serious place, and is the only nation one can find the towering cathedrals dedicated to the slumbering God.
______《 HUSSAR 》
Hussar move with a fluid grace not dissimilar from a cat. Hussar are the most dexterous, agile and fast of the races, but have low endurance and are abysmal with white magic. Hussar live on a ring of volcanic islands ( called Belgrad ) coated with dense jungle, and are totally at home in the wilderness. A matriarchal society, men are outnumbered ten to one - not mistreated, just far less common - and each island is a separate tribe lead by a Chieftain, all Chieftains answering to the Head Chieftain. Hunters and mercenaries most commonly, Hussar are the least comfortable in the hustle and enclosed spaces of cities.
______《 IALI 》
Iali are the longest lived of the races, often easily reaching two-hundred years old before they even begin to slow down. The unfortunate side effect to this is they age extremely slow - they may resemble a twenty year old Hume in most cases, but they are quite likely actually hundreds years old. Iali excel in all classes of magic usually, but are often seen in warrior based classes as well. Their home, Fortuna, is the largest of all the nations, and is sweeping and spacious. It is the magical and academic hub of Messenia, and is traversed by many - but the population is almost entirely Iali, as well as Hussar, who the Iali have a comrade-like relationship with.
______《 DEMARK 》
Demark are the most physically imposing of the races, sometimes not as tall as most, but almost always more muscular. They are nearly the strongest and have the highest endurance of all the races. Usually calm and cool, the Demark are a stern and chilled patriarchal society - you rarely see Demark women, but they are there - but are easily driven to anger. Their home, Zeinn, is in the desert, and they have a great respect for the power of the wind and the earth.
______《 SIRENS 》
Sirens are the most devious of the races, thinly framed with beautiful hair and bodies. They are the best looking of all the races, coming first ( Elves taking a close second ), and are usually calm and loving in most situations. Although attractive on the outside, they can be full of tricks and are dangerous in many ways. They live in a very open matriarchal society - the men very few, but there. Their home is east of the Hume islands of Belgrad and beneath the waves, in a dome where they spend most of their time relaxing and singing songs.
______《 SOULITHE 》
Soulithe are the most strong of the races, different species of animals one could imagine. They appear to look like animals, walking on their two legs, but have qualities of human in every way. They speak like us, and they walk just like us, but because of their animalistic nature, they believe they are superior. Their home is south of the Elf forests of Elias and in the mountains and hills, buildings and shops coming out of them, with bridges connecting the higher ones.
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Name:
Age:
Race:
Class:
Appearance:
Biography:
Personality:
Abilities:
Clothing / Gear:
Group:
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Here is the map of Messenia.
Post your character sheets here and follow the rules below.
NOTE: There are absolutely NO limits in this role play other than the species themselves.
You may make up your own classes, abilities, creatures, towns, weapons and gear. The shards
can BE your character, or an item your character possesses, or a creature. Shards can be any species.
one. Yes there are hybrid classes, and there are hybrid races.
two. If you want to be a shard, ask me. I will choose who will be one.
three. Don't kill off ANY characters unless you have the permission of the owner.
four. Minimum of a paragraph: 3 lines, any less than that, there better be a reason.
five. No godmodding or controlling other characters, talk to the owner before doing anything.
six. Absolutely NO fighting. No one is better than anyone else, keep it that way. We're all friends here.
Now go have fun. :amuse:
Name: Arwen Riella Sindanarie
Age: 20
Race: Elf
Class: Archer / White Mage
Biography:
It's often claimed that one’s surroundings during childhood help develop the personality of said individual; branches out accordingly in whichever direction. The highest of nobles can be seen becoming indifferent and overly pompous to their commoners, while the lowliest of peasants may turn bitter to the world around them. Surprisingly, Arwen's tale was not filled with endless sorrows, or losses beyond repair, or irreversible damage that shook her very core – no, it hadn't been anything remotely close. So, in her case, she had been exposed to great losses at an early age without actually being affected. She was abandoned before she'd even been able to open her eyes to the world and fully comprehend what was happening. From what she knew of them, Arwen's parents were lowly fish-mongers who immediately gave her up when she was born, dropping her like an anchor they would rather forget. She felt nothing. How could she? She couldn't remember their faces. She couldn't remember their voices. It was almost as if they hadn't existed at all. They never cultivated any happy memories, so if she managed to reflect on them, it was as if we were looking back on an empty slate.
Performance and theatrics and entertainment became her bread and butter. It was the gypsy-merchants and loose-tongued thieves that took her in, when she was but a babe swaddled in pock-holed blankets. The troupe was led by a sharp-eyed, dark-skinned Elf; full of bluster, life and an exotic charm that couldn't be ignored. It felt like they traveled all throughout Messenia; straight through each of the nations. They played characters from old fables, of fairies and creatures and mischievous imps that led traveler's astray; spinning torches, twirling on the balls of their feet, utilizing illusion and acrobatics, and always earning extra coin by subtly dipping their fingers into purses while they watched them perform, awestruck. The usual seasonal routine of the troupe was to stop in the main city every winter, when the people were less able to leave far from their homes. If it got cold enough, then the troupe would travel until they met with more favorable temperatures. They weren't beyond scavenging the lands or traipsing on owned properties. If anything, they'd been the closest thing to a family that Arwen ever had.
Personality:
If there's something Arwen can do best, it's keeping secrets. She prefers keeping things to herself instead of sharing her thoughts, her accumulated information of interest, or anything else she believes can further her own cause with other people. These are important cards jammed up her sleeves, protected by gnashing teeth and the nastiest stinkeye you've ever encountered. She's as thick-skinned as an elephant, sloughing off insults like they were directed somewhere else and snappishly responding with her own quips. She's untouched by minor hurts or vocal wounds that might affect a gentler soul. Her feathers aren't easily ruffled, so gossip regarding herself slips off her shoulders like oil. She doesn't try to keep her reputation squeaky clean. It's more interesting that way. Even if she doesn't want to stand out in a crowd – she does, it's in the way she carries herself, it's in the casual looks she flashes around, it's in the frequently gaudy bracelets winking in the sunlight. There's just something that's eye-catching about her and it makes it impossible to blend into Messenia's crowds, hidden from unwanted attention.
Arwen can be a little careless with trivial matters but if something matters to her intensely, passionately then she'll give an arm or leg in dedication to it. Likewise she can seem apathetic about things that do not concern her, but she is highly passionate about things that do. She's got passion in her pants. She's a squawking sea-hawk diving headlong into the ocean without any calculated thoughts prior to the reckless action, without glancing around to see if there's any seals waiting to gobble her up. Mentally adroit in shady situations – in any event, she has worldly common sense – Arwen utilizes her quick wits to brutally subdue her aggressors. She's probably somewhere close to unmatched when it comes to her flapping tongue: sharp as a warrior's whetted blade. She's a fighter. She's a survivor. She's a battered orphan suckling the last remnants of soup from a tin can before she transforms the can's lid into some sort of unusual lockpick. She's an inventor, a dreamer, a creature who's muses never cease to exist.
Abilities: She knows all spells consisting white magic and healing, although in her case to do such spells she must sacrifice her own blood for it.
Clothing / Gear: Shedding her Elven lineage, Arwen has only started to introduce leathers into her usually drab clothing. Her clothes offer a strange mixture of Hume influence, as well as Elven ascendancy. Her outfit is subject to change, usually in all white, for she needs to blend in with the crowd. She isn't a fan of chilly weather, so in cold weather she wears a thick hooded cloak of white wool; if one were perspective, they could catch sight of the small clasp clipped at her throat, displaying her banner. Crimson on white with a golden gnarled tree, and a waxed moon in it's background. Her bow is strapped to her back as well as a her long blade resting in her large holster at her hip. As for a companion, she rides around on her dear forest spirit, Socrates who is 15 feet long and 6 feet wide.
Group: Shard of Arrogance
Name: Qa'naro Liam Neane
Age: 26
Race: Soulithe, Tiger
Class: Warrior
Biography:
Nowadays, if someone told him that he didn't need to cure all of his imperfections and weaknesses, Qa'naro would've sourly laughed. If only someone had told him to tread his path proudly, confidently in the direction of whatever ambitions all men tend to dream up. Unfortunately, Qa'naro's guidance was limited to his mother's frequent harassment and disquieting propagation. Her attitude was unceasingly glacial; her cruelty knew no bounds. By Soulithe standards, Qa'naro's mother was a ***** who offered no excuses. The joviality of communal, spiritual beasts must have flown clear of her mothers' womb. She wore her wealth as a shield and she wielded her influence freely. It wasn't love she sought. She didn't need love when the world lay at her feet: hers for the taking. Her greatest ambition was never to be brilliant, just unforgettable. Everyone has they're own story—she has her own, but I won't get into that. It's not important.
An empty, soulless relationship. A loveless marriage. Bound by the kicking, squalling things writhing in her belly. These are also the creatures' that caused his father to flee his home. Qa'naro's mother knew this more than anyone. His father, though he'd never come to know him, was apparently colder and crueler than she'd ever been. He would never come to love her and she knew she'd never love him. She'd been a good woman, a good wife. She watched as the light drained from his eyes and as he grew violent and stronger and colder. It was the distant relationship that formed and moulded Qa'naro's twisted opinions. The gradual mistreatment. A deadbeat lioness raking it's claws on the weakest slab of meat to conceal it's pain; open and raw. Qa'naro stood by her side and took care of her till the day she died, and finally he left home, going on his own adventures from there on out.
Personality:
If there was anyone, or anything, as conflict-avoidant as Qa'naro, then it'd probably have to be a twitchy-nosed rabbit scurrying for it's hovel. He's very tolerant of others, probably because he's so insufferable himself. He's an unscrupulous eel; as flighty as any small rodent. He's the kind of individual who adapts near-instantly to all situations or instances because he values his own life so much – his survival instincts are as strong as any Soulithe's pride, as any addiction to the shadier indulgences Messenia has to offer in their own caravans. For someone who's so cautious around Messenia's inhabitants, Qa'naro is as curious as a kitten, and it's likely to get him killed someday. Despite others' perception of him as a hyper-violent barbarian, or at least before he actually opens his yapper, Qa'naro is incredibly intelligent and might regularly surprise people with his insight. He's naturally gifted when it comes to picking up signals, or perceiving where the conversation is going. He can also be very well-spoken, which isn't usually a Soulithe-born trait, and can communicate complicated ideas with an ease quite unlike what people would expect from him. This isn't to say that Qa'naro doesn't occasionally slip into his silken Horgrove accent, lilting this way and that; purely for the giggles. He knows you don't find it endearing. If you're surprisingly fond of it, then he'll still try to use it as a form of enticement.
Abilities: Outwardly he's a gifted Two-handed Warrior; looking deeper, he's merely a sing-song Bard with sticky fingers and the uncanny ability to squeeze into places much too small for him. He is a cat, after all. His bones are as flexible and malleable as putty, so he's able to twist in most directions without causing him excruciating pain and irreversible damage. He can use a bow, and can often shake someone up with his "roar".
Clothing / Gear: If it wasn't weird to wear layers of fur, then Qa'naro would've done it long ago. Fortunately, his erstwhile fashion sense has stopped him from making that faux pas. Instead, the Soulithe prefers to wear modified pieces of leather, which consists of: a thin leather vest that looks as if it were made by Elven hands, a pair of dark cotton trousers, leather ankle wraps, a sky blue Horgrove cape wound around his waist and iron plates of armor strapped to his thighs and knees.
Group: Leader of The Guardians
