Fantasy The Republic of Mithlasea

[Beleram]

The Republic of Mithlasea covers an area of 73 thousand square miles. Of this, 47% (34 thousand sq. miles) is arable land, and 52% (38 thousand sq. miles) is wilderness. The Republic of Mithlasea has a total population of 5.8 million people. The largest city has a population of 41 thousand people, the second largest 28 thousand. There are 3 other cities of note in the kingdom, and 60 towns. The remaining population lives in numerous small villages, isolated dwellings, etc. Our story begins as so...


It was an early August day that a new king had taken power over the kingdom of Mithlasea. Crowds cheered and praised his new hand which would soon become a revolution over his dark deeds. As time moved on, the king only become more and more darker. Soon the lands became troubled by his dark wills and demands, his sleight of hand had turned foul. The new king needed to be replaced. It was time for a revolution. A few of the nations assisted to eliminate this power that had taken up the lands and they rose victorious, freeing what little land they could. The Republic stood tall, strong, and fierce, prepared for what was to come. And what had came, the new king, with an army more powerful at his disposal. He had traveled the lands in search for power and was granted a new found magic. An ability to shape the will and hearts of those around him. A magic far more greater than ever recorded; a new magic yet to be discovered. Now the lands are at war once more, and they need help. Will you join the Republic to free Mithalasea once more?

 

[Atriarch]

"My land," the new king had began. "Tainted by the blood of the misguided. With only little hope to help them. I shall see to it that their corpses are used for soil to grow my lands."


The king states into his palm as he waits patiently in a combat tent with nothing more than a regal table and a map decorating it's surface. A notebook lies on top with letters scribbled onto it's surface. A pen nowhere to be seen. The king smiles as his once youthful appearance, now pale and tired, details his decreasing health with veins turning into a dark black. He smiles, yellow teeth cracking, as a dark aura fades over his hand.


"I must show them. I must show them all!" He yells, slamming his fist on the table. The wood ages quickly and breaks off a bit where his fist lies. A dark hole had appeared on the map from his magic. "My land.." He repeats, looking back at his palm, his face returning into a youthful appearal. "Tainted by my blood.." He spoke softly. His midnight eyes reflecting the outside of the tent.


Outside of his tent, a massive army readies themselves across the seas from Mithlasea. An army of vast numbers and quantities, both on land and in boats. The king's tent lies in the middle of it all.

 

[SilverNova]

From the shadows a figure watched, cloaked in leather garments and a woolen hood. At their side a longbow rested. Although, the huntress was trash at archery and the bow was most deffinitely not her weapon of choice, it was the only ranged armament she had managed to get her fingers on. In her thick hunting boots and attached at her sides were a fantastic assortment of knives, mainly huntsman knives, minus the obsidian karambit that she idly spun around her finger. Below the obscure ridge she hid ontop of, an army amassed. It breathed with the feirceness and corrupted angst of the man who commanded it, King Bathlazar Horrigan. Out of all the jobs Callah had ever taken on, this one was by far the most riskiest. Not only was the king heavily guarded and had control of nearly the entire country, but he also contained dark magics that Callah knew that if she came into contact with could easily end her life. She was a master at manipulation and assassination, not sorcery. For today however, Callah knew she was safe. The republic had only hired her on to scout the area right now. Though Callah knew in the end she would want so much more. This King was the one man who she held responsible for her family's death and her capture all those years ago. By the end of this war she planned to have his head set on a silver platter and his army set free of his hypnotic power.

 

[Beleram]

Ramos has not seen much light since the crypts underneath Mithlasea are both a gift and a curse. The gift comes from the solitude they provide him, a man with nothing more nothing less, They call him the gremlin of the keep, although human, and fancy's himself easy on the eyes. Ramos has trained in the crypts 3 years now, but his will has never waivered, he knows why he must remain down in the crypts, to keep training valiantly, his blood sweat and tears stain his tattered clothing. He knows of the evil stirring above...There is a new king and the rumblings from the commoners sweep down the slopes of the rotten stairs and into the labyrinth of keeps below, navigation is both unbearable and impossible to the untrained. Ramos needs to rise from the darkness and keep order in this didactic bustling Republic, it has always been his home and he won't see it plunged into a void of never-ending despair.