Lyridan is a land of magic, mystery, and mischief. There are many different races, clans, species, and sects. No historian has every managed to chronicle every one, for as soon as one thinks he has finally found the last species, twelve more arise. The same holds true for the landscape, as most of it’s geographical features are yet unmapped, and even more undiscovered.
The hub of activity in the well known parts of Lyridan, however, is Nestalium, City of Steam.
Nestalium, also known as The City of Steam, Home of the Magisters, Capital of Lyridan, lies to the west of the continent, built on the western sea, surrounded by the Stradivar Woods, South of the Deralus Peaks. Nestalium relies on the Farm villages in the Sethyl Plains, to the East, between the city and the Stradivar Woods. To the south, in the midst of the woods, lies Madmist Swamp seemingly stretching on for miles, shrouded in a thick mist all year 'round. The incredibly thick mist has been known to play tricks on the eyes of travelers, often forming mirages and hallucinations that only serve to further demoralize those who try to cross it.
The City of Steam is home to hundreds of races from common to rare. Even some who normally wouldn't be found in a city. Because of this diversity the facilities of the city are as varied as the races that live there with doors and seating of all sizes. Some facilities cater specifically to certain races, a troll would be hard pressed to get into a faerie bar, even if he could fit.
The name, City of Steam, comes from the cities extensive network of steam pipes, boilers and magical steam driven technology. Amenities rival all others in the land, even those of the high elves. for this reason the city enjoys a bustling tourist trade. The City of Steam also trades goods of all sorts; weapons, magical items, herbs, foods and many other goods and services can be found there. Because of this great diversity and bustling trade the law in the city is heavily enforced. Special divisions of the army and guard patrol all areas of the city to protect and serve but more importantly to uphold the laws laid down by the Magisters.
The Magisters of Nestalium are the government and the law. Ambitious Magisters rise to the top of the social ladder through corruption and treachery. The Government is supposedly run with an ear towards the people but more often than not they keep their ears closed and their hands open. to say the city was run by bribes would be unfair, but not too far from the truth. The Magisters, however, are obsessed with maintaining the pretense that all the work they do is "for the good of the city".
The Magisters control and maintain the city wards that keep enemies (and the banished) from entering the city. In order to enter the city one must obtain a guest pass or citizenship, guest passes are often limited by time and to certain areas of the city. those found wandering from the beaten path will often have their memories erased. The same goes for those practicing 'Forbidden Arts' but the punishment for those offenses can often be more severe.
Nestalium is also home to several schools of the highest pedigree. Those fortunate enough to walk their halls often become Magisters, or Kings' wizards. While majestic and important in sound, they are little more than the city's maintenance crew, ensuring that everything is running properly and responding to requests by citizens. The higher in rank a Magister rises, however, the more likely they are to be given greater tasks, such as monitoring the Wards.
However, all is not well in the land of Lyridan. Of late, the seasons have been ever slower to change, as though the world were grinding to a halt. The days have grown gradually darker, with ominous clouds ever more obscuring the sunlight. The elder magisters, well versed in the arts magical can feel a taint in the workings of the world, as though some dark hand guides it’s course, though none have the experience to say just what exactly is slowly choking the vibrancy and life from Lyridan.
Your Mods
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Instant RolePlaying Format (or IRPF): Character Name: before any post *actions go like this* "character lines go like this" ::Radio MAGICAL Communication goes like this:: <Foreign languages (uncommon tongue) go like this.> character thoughts goes in Italics the written word goes in bold (out of character dialogue goes like this)
While instant roleplay is understandable as a method of RP, please try to make an effort to develop your posts. The more you put into a post, the more we get out of it, and the more fun everyone has.
(Well, let's go and get this cherry popped already.)
The moon shone high over the city, bathing the night-cowled city with it's soft silver rays. The streets below still bustled with life, regardless of the time of day. But that was all fine. More people didn't just mean more eyes, but more cover. It really depends entirely on one's outlook of the given situation. While an ideal condition would be a spotless, black night with most everyone locked away safely in their homes asleep, such was not the given condition. And one thing that any assassin worth his weight in gold would keep in mind is that he always finds a way to operate within the given parameters. More difficulty simply means more experience, and more experience makes a better assassin.
Nevano tugs at the loose cowl over his head to ensure that it's providing as much cover as he can. Of course, the wooden mask set over his face does well enough to hide his features, but one can never be too careful. He slips his hand into his cloak, running his thumb across the scabbard of his blade, imagining the feel of the cutting edge hidden underneath it's tough casing.
Second rule of the assassin. He whispered to himself, his voice as audible as the gentle breeze that passed gently by him. The weapon should only ever be drawn for two purposes: The intent to defend, and the intent to kill. The greatest folly one can make is to draw his weapon when he is unsure of his own intention. It is also the most dangerous.
Without warning, he shifted backward. At that same moment, a door down below opened. A muffled voice came from inside the building, an elder man thanking his guest for stopping by. Nevano leaned forward, taking care to keep his visage hidden in the dark. A tall, beautiful woman stepped through the entryway of the door, pausing only to nod her head to the host as he bid her farewell. She was dresses well, certainly a member of the upper echelon. Of course, Nevano knew this. After all, she held a seat on the council. To specify, she had held it for six years now. In that time, she had become quiet influential. In fact, even Nevano had found himself beholding her with a sense of admiration. But for now, he had to place that aside. She had recently come across something that, if left alone, would allow her a glimpse into a world which she had no business observing.
Upon hearing the click of the front door as it swung shut, he jumped into action. Nevano secured his cowl one more time and lept from his perch. He landed gracefully on the walk behind her, not even crunching a bit of gravel under his step. The home was located literally in the upper section of the city, and this particular stretch was rarely walked by any other than the elite of the elite, and the elite of the elite were usually sound asleep during this time of night. He wasted no time in closing the distance behind her. Not to fast though, lest he reveal his presence. Nevano kept low to avoid detection. Creeping closer, he caught a glimpse of something shiny hanging from her robe.
There it is.
He glanced up again at the walking figure. Her head was still facing the area before her. Her movement was constant, and as far as he could tell, no irregularities in her breathing. Good, that meant she was still unaware of his presence. He turned his attention back down to the object. He lifted his hand while timing the gyration of her hips as she walked. Setting his mind in that groove, he reached forward. With a light hand, he lowered a small, chained amulet into her pocket. Simultaneously, he used his other hand to remove her amulet from her pocket. The transaction was completed flawlessly as he managed to replace the stolen jewelry with the fake, the councilwoman being none the wiser. As he slinked away into the darkness, she paused to check her pocket. Feeling the cold, metallic touch of the amulet in her pocket, she was satisfied enough to continue on her way home.
Nevano forged a path across the rooftops, only stopping when he felt he was a convenient enough distance away. Honestly, the next time a rookie loses one of these, I should make him go steal it back for himself. I have better ways to spend my evening than this. With an aggravated grunt, he dropped the amulet into a compartment in his belt and vanished into the night.
G'vai sighed quietly to herself. She couldn't sleep, even with the silver light of the moon leaking into her bedchamber. She stood and stretched for a moment, groaning softly as her muscles loosened, and dressed in her informal clothes as she shrugged the silks from her shoulders. Once she had her normal set of clothes on, she went back to the window, her bright yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight. Something was happening in the distance. She couldn't discern exactly what, but she could smell the bloodlust on the wind. A quick leap from her balcony left the doors open as she moved into the gentle, silver light of the moon, following her nose for now.
((Bah, not too good an opening post ><;; I'm having a hard time thinking right now, but I feel like I need to at least post something.))
G'vai eventually stopped somewhere, captivated by a pice of gold she had found on the ground. She turned and knocked on a door, thinking she had the right address.
She spoke quietly, hoping someone would hear her inside the building. 'Hey, is (Insert Forge's character) there?'
(I can't do it if I don't have a character to use -.-;;)
Wolfgar sat stareing into his drink when some barged into him knocking it over, he spon round looking around the bar "who was that". His voice seemed to carey the echo of mens screams, most of ocupents of the bar backed away at the sound of it, except for one very drunk low ranking magister who said in a rarther nasaly voice "it and so what you low ranking peastant" at the same time sent a fire ball at him this Wolfgar nocked aside couseing it to fade into nothing with the back fo his hand. At the shadows seemed to be pouring down thte sleave of other arm, these form a pich black throwing knife that sent flying inti the young mans kneck. While the rest the bar stood silent in horrer he walked over the dead man and then bent down and closed his eyes. After that he walked out of the into the night be for some one called the watch.
Wolfgar sat staring into his drink when someone barged into him, knocking it over. He spun around, looking around the bar for the culprit.
"Who was that?" His voice seemed to carry the echo of men's screams, causing most occupants of the bar to back away from him. All but one low ranking magister.
"I, and so what, you lowly peasant?" He said in a rather nasally voice. At the same time, he sent a fireball at Wolfgar. Wolfgar knocks it aside, causing it to fade into nothing with the back of his hand. Shadows seem to pour down the sleeve of his other arm to form a pitch black throwing knife. He throws the knife, sending it flying into the young man's neck.
While the rest of the bar stands in silent horror, Wolfgar walks over to the dead man. He bends down and closes the man's eyes, then turns and walks out into the night before someone calls the watch.
Vestal strolled through the dim landscape of the Deralus Peaks, moving fluidly from rock to craggy boulder. The lithe young woman in front of him struggled up the slope, breathing heavily. She looks back, her azure eyes stark with terror. It's not Vestal she's looking at, however, as her eyes are staring past him, further down the slope.
Knowing full well what it is she's running from, Vestal turns to look nonetheless. About half a league down the mountain, and closing fast, is a stone mastiff. The hulking monstrosity resembles a large wolf with teeth too long to even allow it's jaws to close and claws filed to points. Vestal smirks as he strolls backwards up the mountainside, not once so much as stumbling on the uneven ground.
The mastiff reaches Vestal in moments, barreling past him as though oblivious to his very existence to lunge at the woman. She screams as the stone wolf tears into her shoulder, ripping not only her shawl, but also a large chunk of flesh and muscle tissue from her shoulder. Rolling on the ground, she finds purchase and settles herself in a low crouch. She pulls ragged breaths as she roars incantations angrily, flinging spells of every sort imaginable at the creature. The mastiff merely shrugs them off and circles, looking for the proper moment to strike the killing blow on its wounded prey.
As the thing lurches forward once more, a familiar figure crests the rise ahead, sweeping his hands low. The man finishes a final stance and thrusts his hands forward, sending a strong gust of wind spiraling at the mastiff's legs. Not strong enough to lift the creature from the mountainside, the blast of air knocks it off course, clipping the edge of a cliff before tumbling far below.
"Come, we haven't much time," the man intones in a deep, gravelly voice, extending a hand to the woman. "I haven't killed it, but I have bought us time. If you want to escape it's reach, you'll need my help. I haven't known a single person to survive the Hunt on their own."
Hesitating, the woman takes his hand, letting him help her up. He puts a shoulder under her arm, supporting her as she stumbles from the wound in her shoulder. "We'll get you healed the moment we get somewhere safe. Right now, it's more important to get beyond that thing's range."
Vestal watches the pair as the crest the mountain once more and disappear over the other side. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, filling his nostrils with the fresh mountain air. When he opens them again, the dimly lit interior of his one of his outer cabins. The single candle on the table across from him illuminates the form of the sleeping woman bundled on the furs in front of him. Trailing a finger along his jawline, Vestal grins. He always liked to see just what people thought of him when they first meet.
G'vai paused and stretched for a moment, finally outside of the city's limits, just outside its walls. She lifted her head and breathed in the scent of the forest in front of her, murring softly at the promise of the night. Her eyes could see easily in the silver light of the moon, and the light reflected form them as they shifted about, looking around for a set of bushes. The area around the Deralus Peaks was thankfully unpopulated, and she crouched low as her body began to shift, bones cracking and rearranging themselves under her skin. Fur sprouted and grew to length, covering her skin as she shed her clothes and focused on the changes, hoping that they'd at least be over quickly.
---(Several minutes later)---
The wolf shook herself and raised her head to the sky, sampling the air again. It smelled so different through the two noses she owned. Different instincts, different wants, even different needs. She shook herself, her fur shimmering in the silver moonlight. She lifted her head and released a howl, praising Luna for giving her light during the night, and moved off, only a shadow in the night. She could smell someone around. Someone... Something... She couldn't place it. She'd figure out who and what soon, though.
Nevano dropped from the roof of an old shack. He landed in a stagnant puddle with a splash. By then, being stealthy was not his concern. He had since arrived within the poor district of the city, far from where he had encountered his target. He pushed his way down the winding side streets, each one choked by the towering structures lining them. Not that the buildings were grandiose in any manner. Quite the opposite, they were some of the messiest, most run-down buildings in the entire district. People down here didn't have the money for property. Instead they relied on each other for survival, oftentimes building upon already existing structures, extending them further up with every passing day. Eventually the city would have to choose to either expand the borders of the city or tear down the entire slum district. But while it still stood, it made the perfect playground for any who placed a value on stealth.
He turned another corner, coming along a narrow alleyway between two housing stacks. The space was literally so narrow that Nevano had to turn his shoulders and creep in sideways. About halfway in, he had to pause. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearing his mind. For his entire life, he had held a slight fear of tight spaces. It was a horrible flaw for his line of work, but he had long since conditioned himself to control it.
Once his gut stopped twisting, he was able to advance.
A few meters later, the passage widened out, opening into a wide enclosure surrounded on all sides by housing units. In the dead center of the space was an old storm drain. Nevano wasted no time in sliding his fingers underneath a loose edge of the drain grate and prying it loose. He quickly slipped inside, letting it fall shut behind him.
Jenas casually made his way through the streets of Nestalium. He was bored, and not the usual kind of bored either, but really bored. It was noon and the streets were crowded as could be. Most houses had doors that led to the road, and opening such a door with a lockpick would draw more attention than would be good for him. He could try his hand at pick-pocketing, but he found himself to be far above that. A pickpocket was no more than ordinary scum, in his opinion. No, real thieving was an art, and if you did it right, you might even amuse your audience with it. Plus it was just too much fun to let an opportunity slip to taunt your victim a bit further by, say, leaving a note casually mentioning the things you could've taken but didn't.
Alas, none of that mattered now, and there wasn't really any way for him to do anything at this point, so he made his way back to his house.
Walking down one of the many roads into the City of Steam, Javor reads his spellbook making a note in the margin every so often next to the neat, crimped script of his mentor. The book was nowhere near full, but it contained a number of spells that Javor had not yet memorized. His orange cloak blew in the breeze as he mumbled to himself about some abstract theory on planar doorways noted in a sidebar of the spell he was currently reading.
He had gotten the hang of some of his tutor's more destructive spells right off, but he had struggled with the opposite side of the coin. The spell he was currently studying dealt with the recomposition of matter through runes, and Javor was still trying to wrap his brain around the concept. Of course, this distraction leads Javor to collide with a rather brutish looking figure that stood quite a height above him. Oh, well. Must be at least half-giant. I'll apologize and-
"HEY! Watch where you're goin'!" The giant of a man interrupts Javor's train of thought before he could even begin to answer. "You scuffed up my shoes! Them's a nice pair of shoes! You gonna have to pay for my shoes!" At this point, Javor notices the other two smaller brutish figures standing behind the larger one. Sighing, Javor closes his book and pockets it away.
"I'm terribly sorry, but I do believe you stopped in the middle of the roadway for no apparent reason." "That's cuz we's robbin' ya!" One of the smaller brutes pipes up. "Yeah, we'z robbin's ya!" The other agrees enthusiastically. Obviously these thugs were more brawn than brain, so Javor dismissed the possibility that reason would work, but he decided to try anyhow. "Why would you want to rob a poor sorcerer on his way? I don't have much in the way of money." "You have magic things though! We'll take those!" The larger one addresses this question with much gusto. "I need new shoes now, because a disgusting sorcerer got his dirt all over them!" "Please, just move aside and let me on my way." Javor keeps his cool. If he didn't, the spell that he was currently casting would probably kill the fools rather than just scare them off. The breeze picks up and turns into a full blown wind, but it just slips past the notice of the thick headed thugs in front of him. "GIVE US YOUR MAGIC STUFF!" "As you wish." At that moment, a triple forked bolt of lightning shatters the ground in front of each of the thugs. Javor could smell the singed hair off of each of them. Quite after the fact, they all jump out of his way, and without looking back, he continues on his way, but he imparts a few words of wisdom upon departure. "And that should be a reason not to rob poor spellcaster on their way!"
Javor's tutor would scoff at his use of magic, thinking it wholly unnecessary. Then again, Yorosh would just talk the poor fools to death rather than make the lesson quick and obvious. After making sure the thugs weren't following him like some determined fools would do, he pulls his book back out and continues to read about matter transformation.
*The cliffs of the mountain range look over the entire countryside, cool breezes blowing rocks and dust off of the sides. A small party of men lead their horses along the ridge, staring straight ahead at their captain, a Night Elf. One sits atop of his, sipping from a small canteen. The captain brings the party to a halt and points to the scout atop his horse, bringing him to the fore.* Captain Rhoe- See straight to the East. Beyond the fields lies a small village known as Everlie. Take three day's supplies and make a trip to the village. Meet a man by the name of Cale in the tavern. You will recieve instructions from there. Is your task clear, lieutenant? *The boy nods his head and is handed a few knapsacks containing food and water. He makes his way down the mountainside, the metal of his weapons and equipment clambering together as he did so.*
Myra walks up the Library's giant spiral staircase, an oft-used center of travel within the massive structure's walls. she notices a door a few stairs ahead glowing brightly and she increases her pace. as she reaches the door her heart skips a beat. it was marked with seven master seals, warning of a terrible power contained behind the wall... and it was awake! she turns back up the stairs and begins to sprint, but half a flight up, the door splinters as it's hit with brutal force from the other side. Myra quickly pulls a small clockwork bird from her pocket and winds it's key. after she winds the small trinket, she tosses the bird into the air, the magic within the device guiding it up the stairwell and towards safety. Myra turns to look just in time to see the door explode into hundreds of tiny burning fragments. out from the doorway steps a creature whose flesh was made of fire and stone. to say the least, it was furious about it's imprisonment and was thirsty for blood. The young Argonian catches it's eye and it flies into a leaping dash up the stairs, hot on her trail. Myra acts in reply, sprinting up the stairs in an attempt to flee from the monster. she tires quickly during her ascention of the staircase, and the monster begins to close in, the acrid smell of burning metal reaching her nostrils, making her feel ill. after what seems like an eternity to Myra, she slips on one of the stairs and falls, too tired to rise... she rolls onto her back, gasping for air as the tireless monster approaches, its burning eyes staring her down. "You will be the first of many to fall by my hand woman. I will reign over this land once more!" the creature stops, towering over Myra, and summons a sword, angling it's blade downward, preparing to kill her with a single blow. it stabs downwards just as Myra rolls away. she speaks, out of breath and nearing the point of exhaustion. "You... won't take my life monster... and you will not escape the Library alive... that i can guarentee you..." With that, she draws her shortsword and prepares to fight for her life. the burning figure brings it's sword down on Myra, who deftly defelcts the blow and slashes through her opponet's leg without effect. the firey demon sweeps his blade to the side in a horizontal strike. Myra blocks th eblow, but is thrown into the wall and is dazed by the powerful strike. her foe sees the opening and takes advantave of his greater size and noticably greater strength and pins her against the wall with his empty hand. Myra bites back a scream of pain as, his flesh begins to burn hers. "one by one, your allies will fall... untill noone is left to hold me here." with those words of finality, he plunges his weapon into her torso, the blade tearing through her abdomen, barely missing her spine. he pulls his blade out of her body and lets her drop to the ground. "you should be honored lizard. not many would have stood for so long against me." tears stream down Myra's face as she realizes what's about to happen. so this is how i'm going to die... so much left undone... so much at risk... and i'm going to die.... Myra passes out as the demon rears back to strike a death blow...
(whaddya think? i've never done a first post like that, and i'm anxious to hear how i did.)
(Not bad at all. Only thing I would suggest is to break it down into multiple paragraphs instead of one giant wall. Otherwise, it's certainly a unique intro.)
A breeze teases Javor's cloak as he brings down his hood. Standing at the height of a hilltop just off the road, he watches the night break into dawn. The sky slowly blooms from a dull blue into a menagerie of magnificent oranges, yellows and crimsons. He always loved watching the sun rise. The simple beauty of it was something he aspired to do one day with his magics. Something so stunning, so beautiful, but so seemingly simple. One day...
And then his fatigue set in. He hadn't slept in a number of days, as was his habit with devouring magical tomes, ingesting every inked letter, burning them into his brain. More often than not, Yorosh would find him asleep, using a book as a makeshift pillow, only to wake him for his chores and studies, much to Javor's chagrin. But lately he'd been using a spell to keep himself going, and he was already over the prescribed limit of usage within the days he cast it upon himself. Any more would be dangerous.
Glancing around, he realizes that a giant oak covers his head with its boughs. Good a place to rest as any. So he sets his staff next to the tree, sits down and leans back, falling asleep as he watches the sun rise.
