Clockwork Lords: OOC and Encyclopedia (Recruiting Again)

[Uncommoner]

The world of Miccon is a diverse and mixed land filled with a vast number of sentient species existing in varying states of peaceful coexistence and inevitable war. Centuries ago a monumental discovery propelled the various primitive states into an era of advanced arcane and clockwork technology; the first Lord was uncovered. Unearthed from the remains of a long-forgotten and ancient tomb of alien and unknown design, the god-like machine was not only fully-functional but also somewhat self aware. Through the study of the powerful core of arcane energy that kept the clockwork construct 'alive', one of the original researchers stumbled upon something even more amazing; a cabin contained within the chest cavity, designed as a sort of cockpit. With the addition of a 'pilot' the machine's potential soared even more as it's power and abilities vastly increased. The discovery of more and more Lord frames scattered all across the world, each unique and different than the last, allowed separate civilizations to blossom and prosper under an age of radical research and discovery... And war.

Only an original Lord, with an original or uncovered core, was capable of the divine-like abilities associated with the amazing machines. The process of replicating and harnessing that same arcane magic for mass production was developed, but it was little more than a poor and incomparable copy; manufactured cores, while fully capable of powering a wide array of common and simple machines, lacked the impressive 'ooomph' to reproduce the awe-inspiring capabilities of the ancient, uncovered cores and Lords. Commonplace mecha, named Serfs by sheer irony, lacked the self-awareness and sheer might of their clockwork forefathers. Simple models are used in a variety of civilian roles from cargo-lifting to expensive entertainment. Military models swell the ranks of every nation's assembled militia, wielding super-sized weapons of war. Still, even these so-called Soldiers are insignificant examples when compared to the high-performance expected from Lords and their elite operators. And so the struggle to obtain more and more of these original machines continues, with mixed victory and defeat from all sides resulting in a swaying and ever-changing balance of superiority. Now, on the eve of this Great War's bicentennial anniversary, something new and even more terrifying than the highly-prized Lords emerges to not only tip the scales of power, but destroy them completely.....
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Araxa: The largest kingdom state of Miccon whose territory includes the major portion of the worlds single complete landmass. Dominated by the massive Arax Badlands, this area's lack of habitable land left it virtually powerless compared to the many resource-rich city states that surrounded it. The Araxans, a proud and fierce group of dark-skinned and hairless humanoid warriors, were often dismissed by more 'cultured' states because of their relative disorganization. The many tribes and clans were more often concerned with squabbling among themselves for what few resources existed in the desert, leaving a lack of established government. Since the land itself was harsh and arrid and yielded very few finds of any uncovered Lord technology, Araxa was more or less ignored in the two-hundred years of on-again-off-again warfare that consumed Miccon's other adversarial nations. In hindsight, this was foolish. Aware of their relative obscurity and secretly assisted by a mysterious organization of amazing advanced technology, the Araxans established a unified state in complete secrecy. The new nation's unknown benefactors showed the united Araxans the treasure trove that their desert had hidden; undercover excavations not only unearthed massive numbers of undiscovered Lords but also buried tombs of knowledge and technology that was unlike anything uncovered yet. Decades of development produced underground factories that pumped out thousands of weapons for a war machine in the making, preparing the Araxan Nation to emerge on an ignorant world ripe for conquest. One the eve of the Great War's recognized bicentennial anniversary, the desert dwellers struck without warning or mercy into Free Ravnon, their closest neighbors. Nestled in a lush and verdant paradise between desert and sea, Free Ravnon was established as a collective of traders, pirates, and capitalist tycoons all organized under a functional republic. Their territory was respected by the other warring nation-states and backed up by a mixed and effective collection of privateer militant forces. Caught completely unawares by the awakened armies of Araxa, the coastal power was invaded and wiped out with a efficiency that was as brutal as it was clandestine. Most of Miccon remains ignorant of this dire development, even as various recognized leaders scramble to affect an immediate alliance to combat this new threat.
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Welcome to my brain-child! This is similar to one of the first rp's I ever played on a different site, and I've spent time tweaking and refining things to present it here now to all who might be interested. I'm looking for able-minded individuals to play the role of a wide assembly of Lord Pilots, each with their own unique machine. And to make things a little more interested for all those involved, the various details of the world of Miccon will be influenced by the players themselves. For example, if one writer includes something in their post about fresh water being scarce on Miccon, then that is the new norm for continued gameplay (Certain such things might have to be cleared by me so they do not affect the general storyline that I have in mind, but I can't see too much disrupting the basic outline so dream away!). This ensures that attention and detail are payed to each and every post, not only by the reader but writer as well. For this reason, I ask that interested players be able to put a little extra effort and wow into everything they contribute. Also for this reason, something of a lax posting order must be recognized so that some of the included players who are not on FOG as often as others have a chance to play without being left behind. This should also ensure that we give enough stuff and substance to our own posts to keep things detailed and interesting.

As far as characters go, the sky is the limit when developing things such as race and history. The wide array of offered species will be as diverse as the individual imagination, but keep in mind that the choices will not give those players advantages over others; humans will be just as abled as say, lizardmen. Supernatural strengths and abilities will be avoided to prevent characters from attaining an edge over others. Of course, a fighter character would obviously be stronger than a studious book-worm type, but not more so than if this were real life. For this reason, there will be no species capable of flying unless a suitable weakness is included and cleared by me.

Lord creation: Have fun but keep some things in mind. Without a pilot strapped into the cockpit, Lords are capable of operating themselves on a basic level, and have one weapon or ability available. With their pilots linked to their cores, Lords become faster, stronger, and even more deadly; a hidden weapon system might emerge, or two new abilities might manifest to overwrite and cancel the unmanned ability to result in a more powerful war-machine.

Character Creation
Character profiles are required, here's the sheet:

Name:
Race: (May include any race or hybrid that you want that can logically fit into the cockpit of the 20 foot Lords. No race has any advantages over the other in game terms, this is only cosmetic preference)
Age:
Appearance: (What your character looks like, what (s)he wears, etc.)
Personality/Quirks:
Skills: (Non offensive skills that your character is good at. i.e. tracking, woodworking, fishing, etc.)
Weapon(s): (Include weapon special traits here)
Bio/Background:


Lord sheet:
Name:
Appearance: (How your Lord looks like. Go wild.)
Weapon (unmanned): (This is the basic weapon that the Lord has if it is unmanned. Only put one here that doesn't have more than one special ability.)
Weapon unlock (piloted): (If your Lord has hidden weapons, or if their main weapons have an extra ability (or two), put them here. These extra weaponry or power can only be used if the Lord is piloted.)

#Note: Substituting Lord weaponry for magic is allowed. Only one spell in unmanned mode and more in piloted. Usually these spells are projected via spell cannons.

##Double Note: All available character slots are currently filled. If this sounds like an rp that you would like to participate in, keep an eye on the thread here as things might expand if all goes well.

[Mustakrakish]

Working on my Character and Lord now. Almost done with my Character, but I still need to finish up my Lord sheet. Probably have it in by tomorrow.

[Uncommoner]

Some character bios will be put up today after work... Whenever I mange to get home. This snow is still pilling up on the roads between here and there.

[Uncommoner]

Name: Corban Mrecene
Race: Human Male

Age: 26

Appearance:
(6'2'', 177lbs) As much of a costume as it is his day to day wear against the elements of the seas. Corban's heavy crimson coat's hem hangs well below his knees. Trimmed in Ayou Seal fur and with the sleeves reaching halfway between elbow and wrist, fingerless gloves of identical bloody red fit tight to his fists. A jet black long-sleeved tunic and leggings of the same are simple save for the silver skulls sewn ito the waist band and outseam, leg-ends tucked into the solid leather boots weighing down his feet. Twin bandoleers criss-crossed over his chest stealthily sheathe curved blades close to his skin, ivory handles gleaming brightly against the black backdrop of his tunic.

Personality/Quirks: In a nutshell? Hopeless Hero Complex + Reckless Abandonment = Often Unpredictable. Accustomed to the lax laws of Free Ravnon and that nation-state's worship of Lord Pilots, Corban is a free spirit that bucks against tight-fisted control. Due to his part-time participation in Free Ravnon's underground mecha-gladiator bouts while serving the state's specialized army, Corban found the perfect place for his fly-by-fire approach to life in general. The idea of teamwork hasn't yet penetrated through his thick-skull; he greatly favors ferocity against collaborating under a battle plan.
Skills: Sailing, First Aid / Herbology, Lock picking

Weapon(s): Multiple curved daggers hidden under his two bandoleers, Twin hook swords.

Bio/Background: The first and only son of two almost-unknown Lord historians and hunters, Corban was forced to travel all across the globe with the relatively elderly couple as they scoured through stone and sand to try and find the ever-elusive Lords. His father's unsavory reputation for being a professional crackpot made life quite difficult, as not only was the man accustomed to dragging his wife and sun with him to the most remote locations, he was was also famous for trusting in local legends to find their prizes. What few finds the unlucky family stumbled across were small and insubstantial; small knick knacks that were worthless despite their ancient nature, and only vague clues and small snippets of info to point them on the path that followed. Through the years Corban grew quite used to the nomadicc style of the excavators life, and his flair to be a free spirit was founded from his parents trust and their inability to keep an eye on him. It was always easier to let the boy wander around on his own while they dug through the dirt, so the young man was used to taking care of himself by the time the family's fortunes changed when he was fifteen. As it turned out his father's extravagant ideas were well founded when they uncovered not only a tomb of hidden knowledge, but the fully-functional Lord frame nestled away in an ancient hangar. Excited beyond compare at the discovery, his parents sent word to the patron king who had funded their expedition. Corban, immediately awed by the powerful looking machine, felt drawn towards the crimson craft and approached the cockpit; with a hiss of steam and an inviting shime the doors parted for him to slip inside, nestle in the command cockpit, and activate the slumbering machine. Roused after eons of inactivity, the magic core deep within the machine shot to life and linked with the teenager right then and there. In an instant the young man's destiny was forever attached to the powerful Lord that called itself Omega. The power-hungry patron, enraged that he had no chance at controlling the machine as long as Corban was alive, dispatched a small army to reclaim the machine and kill all witnesses. Forced to flee with his families safety at hand, the teen scooped up his parents and flew to the only place he knew he could escape pursuit; Free Ravnon. Arriving in a brand new and battle-capable Lord, the nation state's republic welcomed the young man and his family in return for fealty and service; a quick commission in the irregular and effective militant forces of the mercenary state sealed Corban's place in his new home.

Corban thrived under his new role and served with distinction. His flair for fierce and brutal attacks protected the country's contested borders for the first ten years of active service and won him much recognition amongst his peers and superiors. On his twenty-sixth birthday the man achieved a long sought after goal when he was given command of his own small steam-ship. Charged with patrolling the waters of Ravnon's sovereign seas and given letters of marque freeing him to conduct swift strikes and raids for supplies and riches, Corban became one of the state's respected, revered, and recognized pirate heroes.One such raid prevented him from being present when the Araxan army unfolded it's first wave across Free Ravnon's borders, leaving him ignorant of his beloved home's destruction until he returned to the familiar shores and saw the devastation himself. Forced to flee without knowing the fate of his father and mother and seeing only flames consuming the port city itself, Corban lost his ship and what few members that accompanied him in the Araxan's attempt to capture his Lord. Escaping only by abandoning his shattered sea craft's hull and destroying the small squadron, desperation drove him to arrive at the powerful Escalion Empire with information about a force powerful enough to destroy even that proud nation.


Lord sheet:
Name: Omega

Appearance:
Sharp angles married to smooth lines gives the Lord a fierce appearance to match the power and potential hidden in the machine. Colored bright crimson and bearing flahy detailing appropriate for a pirate's machine, the clockwork creation is impossible to miss and easy to recognize. (Note: The above is a close reference. Less anime-ish and with the joints and seams of his armor open wide enough for emerald energy to bleed through, occasional flashes of working machinery are also visible through the gaps.)

Weapon (unmanned): Flight, small wing-like limbs nestled at shoulder and back of the twenty-foot tall machine give the craft amazing speed and maneuverability. Despite it's size, the machine is incredibly nimble even when lacking it's pilot; plugging Corban into the Lord makes the acrobatic capability even more astounding.

Weapon unlock (piloted): Twin scythe's snap free from the Lord's wrists at either side, leaving four full blades curving around the machine's massive fists and angled to deliver slashing blows at close range. As a special surprise to spring on unaware opponents, the four blades can be shot free from Omega's wrists; connected by bladed chains that seem to shift at will with the machine's control, they whip, slice, strike, and bind numerous opponents for potent ranged attacks. The almost delicate appearance of the crimson clockwork is put to a lie when one witnesses opponents tossed through the air by Omega's sturdy arms and legs.

[Kalaam]

Working on one now.

[Inerio]

I'll hopefully have some sort of picture drawn of the pair up eventually. Probably not this weekend though when you consider the events.

Name: Landan Limera
Race: Three quarters Pan

Age: 26

Appearance: Landan is rather tall, standing at six foot five. His face is as long as it is pale, with a slightly hooked nose and a long blonde beard. His eyes are a surprising shade of light brown, the lids covered by an almost constant application of kohl around his eyes. This is apparently due to Landan's sunlight intolerance. Because of a lack of caring about his hygiene, or rather the lack of attempting to wipe the kohl off when he bathes, black kohl fades to grey residue which fades down his face in spindly streaks. Landan's hair is long and wiry, usually kept back in in a pony tail that threatens to break free of it's bonds.

Personality/Quirks: Landan is a man dedicated to his work. As one can imagine, this makes him rather eccentric. He highly dislikes being interrupted while doing anything, especially speaking. Due to the fact that he has few friends Landan is possessive and easily envious of those who steal his friend's attention away from him. Despite this, he tends to lean out of social situations when dealing with people he doesn't know about. Though, that isn't to say that Landan isn't confident in himself or his knowledge.

Skills: Landan is incredibly intelligent and well read. If something can be fixed, he can fix it. Though, he's even better at taking things apart.

Weapon(s): Landan usually fights with a standard rifle when forced to battle, though he's known for being able to deal a good kick. When he doesn't have his rifle on hand Landan will either use one of his tools or opt to throw the heaviest thing that he can lift.

Bio/Background: Landan, being the third in a long run of prodigial men, had a lot on his plate. It was almost demanded that he be the intelligent and dapper young man that his father was as was his grandfather before him. Well, this came out half true. Landan excelled in all of his studies. However, it was the socializing part that he could never seem to get right. Landan was content with holing himself up in his study, never to see the light of day and pour over various texts. When he turned fifteen he, much against his will, meet the likes of Iksa. Despite his constant groaning and general dislike of her presence and persistence the girl seemed to hover about him. As luck would have it the damn brat grew on him, and the two have been thick as thieves ever since.

Name: Iksa "Ikky" Ooku.
Race: Human female.

Age: 22

Appearance: The first thing one will notice about Iksa is her mass amount of tattoos. These were, as she says, given to her as a gift when she was younger. The light blue markings make a circular pattern around her left eye and various scale like markings around her right hand. Her back is shows the most elaborate tattoo of all, being comprised of ancient symbols that Iksa "can't remember the meanings of". Her hair is a rather dark shade of orange, and falls in curls around her mid back, some of which falling into her gray eyes. Iksa's skin is quite dark, which coupled with her tattoos suggests that she descends from an ancient race of native desert dwellers.

Personality/Quirks: A trait probably picked up from Landan, Iksa is insatiably curious to the point of being stupid. She's on of those people that would push a button simply because the sign told her not to. Not because she's malicious of law defying, but simply because she'd want to know what the button did. For this reason, secrets can't be kept from Iksa for she'll snoop and pry until she's aware of what someone is trying to keep from her. While somewhat snippy and at times snide and snarky Iksa is generally nice if not happy with putting to use her wit with the use of a well placed retort.

Skills: While not bonded to any Lord Iksa has the power to communicate with most, if not all, Lords.

Weapon(s): Iksa isn't much of a fighter. Though, that isn't to say that she can't hold her own. Iksa owns a simple dagger and a pistol given to her by Landan. The latter she holds in an esteem higher than a simple pistol should be held.

Bio/Background: The start of Iksa's life was like any other member of the Ooku. She was destined to grow up, marry, have a child, and die without seeing much of the world at all. However, fate seemed to smile on the young girl, who at an early age hungered for life beyond the lines of tribe property.At the age of nine Iksa's father handed her over to a woman whom Iksa grew to know as "Grammy". While the woman, who was of a much fairer complexion and a whole separate species from Iksa, was obviously not her grandmother the girl loved her all the same. For a short while the pair traveled from place to place via airship. It was an enjoyable journey for the young girl, whom up until that moment had never seen the world beyond the desert, and lasted till she turned eleven. At eleven Grammy settled down in a nice little mountain village where Iksa met Landan. For whatever reason the girl was drawn to Landan, and refused to leave the recluse alone until he eventually became used to her.

I put rifle as a weapon because I'm lazy. It's probably ornate and clock work considering the whole steam punk vibe.

[Uncommoner]

Cleared and accepted on both, check and check. I'd figure an inventor would be keen to carry a rifle or some other 'advanced' weapon of similar tech. For the era of technology that the rp revolves around we can say the bullets themselves are proppelled by the strange arcane force that powers almost everything, rather than gunpowder. Less boom and more of a steampunk bang with bright flashes and simple mechanics, methinks.

[Uncommoner]

Name: Darren Epsa

Race: Leonen, a cat-like race of biped feline. Almost human in appearance, the thick manes of hair topping their skulls, feral eyes, and sharp teeth and claws set them into a species of their own.

Age: 38

Appearance: (6'5'', 230 lbs) A massive man who's broad body is dedicated entirely to muscle, no useless bulk takes up any space. Wide shoulders, thick limbs and an expansive chest make the Leonen male appear ungainly and awkward. Not so, as almost every single year of his life since young adulthood was dedicated to the military that he calls his home and family. A crisp, clean-cut military uniform is always worn, immaculate and proper for a man of his rank within the Escalion Imperial Armed Forces. Tan toned and hemed in bronze thread, the almost stuffy stitchwok doesn't seem to match his feral appearance. His red mane is carefully combed and always controlled in a braided top-knot, but his wild yellow eyes and vertical pupils almost seem to ruin that effect.

Personality/Quirks: A military man through and through, Darren is a paragon of discipline and precision. Calm, calculating, straightforward and even appearing ruthless at times, the man is nevertheless an individual who places heavy emphasis on his own sense of personal honor. A crusader for justice and a firm believer in the power of proper control and civility, Darren believes that it is unjust and evil for the powerful and strong to do nothing to protect the meek and weak. Despite being described as 'by-the-book' by his subordinates and superiors, his quick wit and sharp focus propel him to excel in the wars many conflicts, attributing to the many accolades and honors he has accumulated in his career.

Skills: Minor skills ins clockwork maintenance and mechanics. Darren is a fast learner and accomplished enough as a basic mechanic. A firm knowledge in astronomy and mathematics makes him an able navigator and map reader.

Weapon(s): While skilled in a wide array of weapons and arms, Darren's favorites are a pair of heavy war-cleavers. Two of the massive blades hang heavily from his belt, ready to be plucked up in an instant. Battle-hardened and tempered, the oversized examples of a butcher's blade are easily capable of chopping through steel with the power and precision of Darren's hands.

Bio/Background: Surprisingly humble for an important Lord pilot. Drafted into the Escalion Imperial Armed Forces at the age of sixteen as demanded by Leonen standards and customs, Darren spent two years as a faceless individual of the mobile infantry. The tri-annual trials used to periodically expose possible pilot's to the unlinked Lords in the Leonen army showed the young soldier to be a step above the rest. Previously dormant for fifty long years, the powerful machine Havok finaly stirred to life when introduced to Darren's unique life-force. Propelled by this partnership into more violent and thereby more dangerous situations and skirmishes, their partnership and cohesion grew more and more effective with every year the pair served. Rather than rebel against the combat career that Leonen Lord pilots are forced into due to their rarity, Darren settled into a long and distinguished career that eventually earned him a captaincy of his own elite guard units. A chance encounter with a squadron of Araxan Lords but a few hours after their invasion into Free Ravnon resulted in the destruction of every Leone fighter; Darren was the sole survivor. Deeply injured by the defeat and boiling inside with the undeniable urge to avenge his fallen battle brothers and sisters, the captain immediately volunteered to lead the strike force that had the greatest chance of punishing those responsible for the massacre.


Lord sheet:
Name: Havok

Appearance: This machine is a literal beast whose simplistic appearance hides the war-machine that thrums under all that heavy armor. The powerful Core powering those heavy limbs and burning red eyes can barely be contained, and copious amounts of steam and smoke drift from between joint gaps and numerous vents sectioned around the tank-like behemoth. Colored in burnished bronze detailed with sterling silver streaks, it's difficult to miss Havok shining brightly amidst the carnage and chaos of an open battlefield.

Weapon (unmanned): Deflector shield. Somewhat slower when compared to the booster equipped Lords Havok sometimes tangles with, more protection than it's thick armor plating is needed to keep the craft in one piece. A powerful shield envelopes the machine's forms, blunting any attack and adding to it's image of invulnerability while also adding to the power offered from bare-fisted blows. The field can take a lot of punishment from unfriendly fire, but it's not invincible and can collapse after being overloaded.

Weapon unlock (piloted): Adding Darren to the cockpit activates the tri-barrelled beast that replaces the mech's left hand. Power fed directly from the core itself and shunted in the weapon's chamber charges the powerful bolts of raw energy the cannon fires. While the rate of fire is somewhat slow (one charge every ten seconds), one single shot is capable of carving through stone and steel before the contained energy explodes with primal force. Shots are directed in sequence through all three barrels to prevent too much heat from warping the weapon; Darren's cold and calculating style of fighting has occasionally led him to slam the red-hot cannon into and through opponents in instances of brutal ingenuity.

[Guest]

i'll be working on my profile soon!
Promise!

[Mustakrakish]

Name: Alestair Kross

Race: Human

Age: 25

Appearance: (6 feet, 200 lbs). Alestair is a ruggedly handsome individual, with a strong physique, proud demeanor and chiseled features. He stands at a little over 6 feet, broad shouldered and well built. His arms and legs are corded with muscle, and not an ounce of fat pads his abdomen. His jaw is strong and square, and covered in a well groomed beard. Slender eyebrows hover over eyes of the most striking blue. His left eye is covered in a black eye patch. Brown hair flows to the base of his neck, often tied back out of his way. His well sculpted features are only flawed by a long scar running from his left eyebrow, through his eye, and down over his cheekbone, a souvenir from an old friend.

Alestair dresses expensively, yet without the gaudy jewels and frills of the high nobility. His clothing possesses sophistication out of simplicity: fine cloth and rich colors, all tailored and custom made to his own taste. When traveling or in battle, his dress is much more practical, with tough and cheap fabrics that he can get dirt or blood on without too much pain. He always wears his family’s ring, the gold band bearing the ancestral Kross family crest: An eagle with wings spread over a blazing sun.

Personality/Quirks: Alestair is proud, chivalrous, and a little arrogant. Yet he has little loyalty among those he has just met, and makes more enemies than friends. He is a bit of a loose cannon, never revealing his mindset until the most opportune time, and this makes him a deadly ally as well as an enemy. He has a warrior heart, and prefers to act first and ask questions never. He is not without restraint however. He has been known to abandon campaigns if the aims no longer suit his needs, yet has also been seen getting involved in conflicts that have no obvious gain for him. Alestair has a weakness in women, and luckily they have a weakness in him. He is charismatic, charming, and polite when involved with the opposite sex, and is usually seen with a girl or two on his arms at local taverns. He loves a good drink and song just like the rest, though when he gets drinking he either becomes exceedingly friendly towards others, or flies into violent rages depending on his mood. Alestair is a man who likes to be noticed, yet he takes pride in his independent attitude and nonconforming ideals. He fights for no country, no king. Alestair fights only for himself, and for Tempestus Rex.

Skills: Very much a ladies’ man, and an excellent teller of tales once a few drinks have been downed. Besides the flirting and fun, Alestair is a brilliant tactician, and has good navigation and equestrian skills. He was well educated as a boy, and his noble birth opens a few doors here and there from the very few who remember the Kross family.

Weapon(s): While he doesn’t particularly need any weapons or armor due to his Lord, Alestair still prefers to carry around some sort of protection when not incased inside Tempestus. He has multiple throwing knives stashed on his person, and carries a slightly curved, basket hilted saber. Without his weapon, Alestair can take care of himself well enough with only his fists.

Bio/Background: Alestair was born to a high ranking nobleman and his wife, raised in wealth and in the small but prosperous country of Venescotia. His father was heavily involved in court politics, and was the strong right arm of the King. Alestair spent his days of youth playfully, performing pranks on servants when he was younger and growing up to chase pretty maids and become an annoyance when he was into his teenage years. His father gave him a liberal education, teaching him mathematics, sciences, history, art, and martial skills. He did not care much for this education as a child, but has come to respect and admire his father’s insistence on learning. The Kross estate was a few miles out from Kreswick, the capital of Venescotia, far enough away to avoid the poverty and traffic but close enough to allow fast transit.

However, this happy life of spoon feeding was to soon come to an end. The court of the King was deeply divided, and dreadfully corrupt. Alestairs father was one of the few men who were trying desperately to clean up the city, and the King trusted his console. The King was weak though, and feared for his own life as much as he feared for the fate of his country, and Alestairs father often found his advice unheeded. Alestairs father found a way to gather more like minded individuals to his cause, and the King found a base of allies to help clean up the country and purge the corruption once and for all, but the forces that had profited off of the pestilence that had become Venescotia would not let the plans come to fruition. When he was 15, a plot against his father was unleashed.
Deep in the night, a small group of assassins infiltrated the estate and silently slaughtered its inhabitants. Servants and maids were killed in their beds, and it was only because of a late working cook that the alarm was raised long enough for Alestairs father to corral the family in a room and make a final stand. It was there that Alestair lost his eye, a sword cut to the face from the man who had allowed the assassins into the mansion, and had taught them the layout of the estate: his boyhood friend Markus Vossler. The Vossler family had been paid a hefty sum to betray the Kross’s, and Markus himself had been chosen to lead the assassins through the manison. Alestairs father was killed by Markus as he grappled with the young man, but his sacrifice allowed Alestair time to escape through a hidden passage out into the forested region beyond the grounds.

With the entire Kross family slain, the movement to clean up Venescotia was halted, and the country was plagued by despair. Alestair himself roamed the land a hunted man, for he was the only one left who could take up his father’s mantle. The young boys mind was not dwelling on ideas of justice and duty, but on the cold hatred for Markus and his white hot need for revenge. This anger drove him to survive, feeding off the land and stealing what he could not find. He caught his chance at vengeance when he stumbled into a cave during a heavy rainstorm, looking for shelter. The pouring rain and eroded away much of the dirt and mud on the walls, revealing strange runes and hieroglyphics. Alestair followed the cave deeper, until he came into a large chamber that was filled with an eerie blue glow. The glow came from a pool in the center of the cavern, and as Alestair drew closer to the pools edge, a massive figure rose from the pools surface. The young boy felt no fear at the figure though, and he felt drawn to the incredible machine. The Lord opened for him, called him by his name and told Alestair that it had been waiting for the boy for a long time. Alestair had found his Lord.

With Tempestus Rex at his side, Alestair was unstoppable. He quickly learned to harness the incredible power of the Lord, learning to control its movements and at the same time respect the machines sovereignty over its mind. Alestair did not immediately return to Venescotia however, for he knew that his inexperience would be his downfall. He roamed the countryside as a blade for hire, a mercenary. He and Tempestus Rex fought in many battles, and earned more than just cash. Other lone wolf pilots flocked to him like moths to the flame, drawn by his charisma and ferocity in war. None of them possess Lords of their own, but their military Serfs served his purposes well enough. Within three years Alestair had earned fame and renown among the eastern countries of Miccon, and a small army of Serfs followed and fought with him. The mercenary band conquered and slew, but Alestair never forgot his true purpose. By the time he was 20, Alestair was ready to return home.

Within the five years that Alestair had been on the run, Venescotia had denigrated to a cesspool of corruption, poverty, and disease. The Vossler family, after their acquired wealth, had risen to power, using the King as merely a puppet of their own desires. Despite the plague ridden streets, the army of Venescotia remained relatively strong, as the “King” poured all money that could be used for social projects into the military. However, the lack of archeological projects had denied the nation a Lord. The small mercenary band was outnumbered two to one. Despite the odds, Alestair poured across the border, razing border cities to the ground and slaughtering the surprised defenders in his unstoppable quest for revenge. He spared no one, and when word of the attack reached Krewick, Alestair and Tempestus Rex were already on their way to the city gates. His mercenary band was dwindling, but Alestair only saw the colors of the Vossler family waving in the predawn light, and his assault on the walls was relentless. The defenders could not hope to stand against the might of a Lord, and the city was consumed by fire as Alestair marched like a wave of destruction through it. He crushed the ring of guards around the palace, not a single survivor among them. The fall of the Kings Palace was glorious and terrible, and signified the end of Venescotia. The carcass of a fallen kingdom had finally been laid to rest. However, even with the whole of the Vossler family slain, Alestair could not find Markus’s body. He searched for days in the aftermath of the conquest, but ended up leaving the destroyed country empty handed. It is unlikely that he survived the onslaught of Alestairs revenge, but there is a chance that the man who killed Alestairs father, and took his eye, is still alive…

Lord sheet:
Name: Tempestus Rex (The Storm King)

Appearance:

The Storm King is an impressive and noble machine. It stands no taller than its other brethren, at 20 feet, but has an aura of authority around it. Its metallic skin is scarred and pitted from years of conflict, but still shines triumphantly. Tempestus’s exterior is fashioned much like a suit of actual armor; very humanoid in shape. The massive flanged pauldrons sit atop a broad outward angled chest. The machines thick arms end in gauntleted fists, with short metal spikes erupting from the knuckles. Gears and hydraulic pistons can be seen in the joints of the Lord, the inner workings of its mechanical body. Its upper body tapers down to thinner waist, and a set of thick legs supports it trunk. The large feet are in the shape of armored boots, flanged tassets hanging around its thighs. A massive cape falls down from its armored shoulders, deep blue in color with gold embroidery. An image of the Kross family eagle is on the back, but instead of being backed by a sun it is backed by a series of lightning bolts. The cape is tattered and muddied by years of war. Between the large shoulders sits Tempestus head. A blank, armored visor serves as its face, two glowing slits for eyes. A bladed crest arcs from the top of the head. Steam hisses from the recesses of its armor, and the occasional crackle of electricity and arcane energy sound from within its chest. The entire body is polished to a high shine, and gold trim runs along the edges of some of the plates.

Weapon (unmanned): Traditional sword and shield. The sword is massive, with a 15 foot blade that tapers down to a wicked point. The gold hilt has a wide cross piece, and the sapphire pummel glows with arcane light. The shield is a simple round affair, embossed with the Kross Eagle. Both weapons are simply enlarged versions of their smaller counterparts.

Weapon unlock (piloted): When piloted, Tempestus Rex becomes much more fearsome. No new weapons are revealed, however its current armament becomes exponentially powerfully. The Lords sword splits in half, the two pieces sliding slightly apart along the hilt. Between the two bladed edges are a lattice work of pistons and cabling, and the sword charges itself with electric energy. The blade becomes wreathed in arcane lightning, and becomes capable of making ranged attacks with the charged blade, firing the arcane energy from the tip. Tempestus Rex’s shield increases its defensive capabilities, dividing into five equal pieces and sliding apart on a series of hydraulic pistons. This too reveals a network of cables and other components, but allows the shield to project and energy “bubble” around Tempestus Rex, and any other individual who is standing remotely close to the Lord when this ability is activated. The bubble is impenetrable when fully charged, but requires a short delay before it can be activated again.

[Kalaam]

-Translated Fragment of an ancient Asiron myth

…And so the three Sons of the All-Father gathered and waited for his arrival. The All-Father arrived with his resplendent host upon wings of great fire. Aes’yr, first among his brothers, trembled not, but stood fast. Ta’yrn, scion of the giant kingdom of the mountains, and Lohe’ryn, first among the Ocean Lords, stood fast with the master of the middle kingdom, kingdom of the earth. All three knelt at the arrival of the All-Father. The All-Father was pleased with his sons, bravely standing fast before his mighty host, and saw fit to grant them with titles, blessings and power. To each, he gave a mighty weapon, a true form, and the power to shape his own magic as he saw fit. In awe, each swore glorious and binding oaths to the All-Father.

Lohe’ryn of the Ocean swore to guard the depths of Earth, and was granted the title of Demon of the Depths. In the fullness of time, Lohe’ryn would come to defeat all other monsters that dwelt at the roots of the world, to safeguard the All-Father’s daughter, and her fiery heart. His form was that of a four-legged monster, armored, and shuffling like a crab. It inspired fear in all but the All-Father himself, and his three sons. He cast his soul out, in tendrils like a web, to draw all in and consume their power.

Ta’yrn swore to guard to skies, the mountains, and the way to the heavens. The All-Father granted him the title of Guardian, and blessed his land with the metals of the gods. In the fullness of time, Ta’yrn would come to battle the devils of stars, and the void, safeguarding both heaven and earth from the devils’ mighty forms. His form was given, but never did the mighty giant of the mountains need to use it, instead relying on his own inner strength.

Aes’yr, of the fertile Earth, swore to keep the spirit of life young and joyful, his lands a source of eternal strength and joy for his cousins. The All-Father smiled beneficently on his son, granting abundant life upon his son’s lands, so they may keep the spirit of his daughter alive forever more. Entitled as the Master of the Earth by the All-Father, Aes’yr would rule as the sovereign of the Earth. Aes’yr cast melded his magic to his soul and spread it out among the land. His form was a mighty leonine humanoid, bright and glorious. In the fullness of time, he would become a mighty sorcerer, and a wise ruler…

[Translation continues much later]

And so it came to pass that Lohe’ryn grew bitter and jealous in the cold crushing depths of the deeps. He knew not but suffering, his people diminished by the wars against the monsters of the deep, and even the triumph over his foes failed to brighten or warm his darkened, cold heart. He plotted, and grew in strength, and waited…

Aes’yr, as he was wont to do, sent missive to the Sons, for a feast, and celebration on the anniversary of the All-Father’s gifts. The two Sons came upon the bright and fertile lands of Aes’yr, for celebration and rejuvenation. Both were weary from their duties to guard the land, and the mighty Aes’yr offered them rest and feasts in their honor. He offered the aid of his swelling armies in their fight for all, but both declined, aware of Aes’yr’s nascent ambition to conquer the rest of the earth in the name of the All-Father…

To the lasting grief of all, Ta’yrn had to depart early, as a messenger of his clan came to warn of another Devil. The giant of the mountains hastily bid his good-byes and departed with the speed of lightning…

Aes’yr declared that he was first among the Sons, and that Lohe’ryn and Ta’yrn would submit or be conquered. Lohe’ryn scoffed at the arrogant words of his brother, his people hardier, and tougher for living in the depths. Anger led to words, and words led to blows. Aes’yr, a master magician, smote his brother with bolts of flame, and freezing winds, and Lohe’ryn was driven back. Still, he refused to submit, fleeing with his retinue of guards to the inland sea that was the Aes’yr’s gift to his cousin.

Aes’yr, girded himself for war, and pursued his upstart cousin. His vast armies marched, thousands upon thousands strong, with many of his own sons and acolytes with their fearsome magics to bolster the ranks. Despite the many numbers, the army sped as fast as a running man in pursuit of the Demon of the Depths. The pursued, and harried the great Son all the way to the sea. Alas for Aes’yr, fell for the trap. Lohe’ryn’s people rose up from the depths of the sea, proud and fearsome all, and crushed the assembled fist of the earthen kingdom. Thousands of soldiers and tens of magicians fell before the mighty Demon, and his demonic kin. Desperate for his soldiers, the mighty Aes’yr charged into the ranks of the demons, crushing them beneath his claws, and flames. Lohe’ryn, cunning and masterful, allowed his cousin entry to the host at the price of his people’s lives. Soon, Aes’yr was encircled, and Lohe’ryn engaged the desperate sorcerer in single combat.

Mighty was the conflict between the two Sons, but Lohe’ryn had grown wise underneath the earth and sky. His magic devoured Aes’yr’s, and his experience in combat proved to be his other’s undoing. His guard harassed the mighty Son as their leader strode in for the killing blow, smiting the proud mage across the side. Deep was the blow, and a mighty crimson river flowed forth. Aes’yr was not finished yet, and unleashed one mighty counterblow. He reached into the deep fiery heart of the world, and wrenched her molten passion into the sea, boiling thousands of Lohe’ryn’s legions beneath the depths. Despite his exhaustion, and his wounds, Aes’yr managed to fight his way free to his own ranks. His men unable to stand against the fearsome aura of the Demon without the heartening presence of their Lord, were encircled, and annihilated.

Ta’yrn encountered his dying brother at the palace, weary from casting yet another Devil of the Stars from the path to the heavens. Ta’yrn cradled his dying cousin in his arms, and showed him the might of the stars for the first time, allowing his soul to fly free, and rejoin the All-Father and his host. Deep was his sorrow as Ta’yrn accepted yet another burden as the Guardian of the Earth. Fathomless was his rage at the thoughtlessness of his brothers. Unleashed it was as greedy Lohe’ryn devoured the bright and joyful magics of his brother in jealous revenge for past slights.

The hardy kingdom of the mountains strode to war, crushing the Demon’s dispersed and assumed victorious war. Despite the demons’ mighty armor and weapons, the hardy folk were garbed in the metal of the gods, and channeled their souls through Ta’yrn’s gift to his people. He granted them magic over their bodies, and souls. The Guardian of Earth and Heavens strode to war at the head of his small force, discipline and total strength destroying Lohe’ryn’s people under the banner of Retribution…

And so it came to pass that the few remaining companies of Aes’yr’s soldiers and acolytes gathered at the foot of the boiling sea, rent by the world’s wrath. Ta’yrn’s feats of magic were no less stupendous, falling stars destroying the ships and men of Lohe’ryn, adding to the chaos. They watched for the hardy folk of the mountain, and the Guardian of the Heavens, who pursued his corrupted and lonely brother across the sea and into the depths…

And so Ta’ryn’s people, decimated but victorious emerged from that hellish wasteland. Ta’yrn was torn by sorrow and duty incomprehensible as he assumed the duties of Guardian of the world. He spoke unto the shattered remains of Aes’yr’s people and warned them to never pursue this path again, or his people, or one of his line would come again and annihilate them for their treachery as he had Lohe’ryn’s demons. After burying Aes’yr at the heart of his works, Ta’yrn walked alone to the sea, and gazed across its vastness. After ten days, he spoke. “I depart for the Island of the All-Father, a place where the Depths of Earth and Sea touch the Heavens among the lands of the earth.” And Ta’yrn’s people wept for their guardian was leaving them to pursue his duty alone. “Fear not, for one day, I shall return, with the blessing of the All-Father for our wretched races.”

-Text of the History of Asiron

The Kingdom of Asiron has been around in one form or another as far as written history is recorded. It is located geologically in the northwestern portion of the landmass of Miccon. To the north is the Tairen Mountain chain, containing the world’s highest mountain, which dwarfs the rest of the mighty peaks. To the immediate east is the Wastes of Loern, with erratically active volcanoes, small brackish lakes with extremely high alkalinity, and very little natural resources. Despite fertile areas on three sides of the Wastes, none of the wild and warring tribes of feral men migrate out of it. They have a historic curse, a rapacious hunger for all things, and travelers passing through the area are also affected in relation to the amount of time spent in the place. Asiron, and many of its surrounding neighbors live in fertile areas with little geographical markers aside from rivers and lakes. The Kingdom borders the ocean in two places, a stretch north of the wastes that leads up to the Tairen Chain, and to the west, though claims there are under dispute. A small chain of islands to the northeast of the kingdom is technically under their control, but no one lives there. Despite detailed nautical maps, the island chain is difficult to actually land on, and those few who return claim that one of the islands is haunted by monsters. Despite the official proclamation of Asir’s Chain, everyone knows it colloquially as the Cyan chain.

The Tairen Mountains contain the Spire of Heaven, or known to the few remaining true-blooded Tairen people, the AlFayrnen Cymen, or translated as the All-Father’s Rest. Little is now known about the diminished and elusive people who live above the Iron Valleys, about halfway up the standard mountain chain. Explorers, adventurers and avid archaeologists report ancient fortresses high above the alpine line, scarred by some kind of force, and occasional contact with the odd Tairen Village. Despite their reputation as savages, the elusive gigantic people are the fore-most crafters of Lord technology, and live in massive stone crafted holdings that exist both above and within a given mountain. Only one report from a half-breed has been reported as to the extent of the tunneling, and is disbelieved do to the sheer impossibility of the tasks. Sailors also report the Chain extends and almost plummets directly to the ocean near the frozen ice of the North.

The Federation of Asir has now replaced the collapsed Empire of Asir, established by the magician Lord Cyan. Historians well-versed in their lore will be able to speak about the true rise of the previously unknown noble family into the throne of one of the most powerful polities of the area, the Kingdom of Asirnon. Little is known about one of the most powerful men of the previous century beyond a few basics. He was a half-Tairen half-Aesian human. He was the most brilliant man of the kingdom, and some reckon that he was one of the most powerful magicians ever. He conquered over a third of Miccon in a period of seventeen years, including both the Wastes, and the Tairen Chain amongst his holdings. He was also one of the first people to discover an ancient Lord, one he named Tyrriel, and is more commonly known as the King-maker. One of his chief rivals discovered another Lord in the Wastes that he named Luccien, and is commonly known as the Demon. The name of the rival is unknown, but Cyan triumphed, and gave the machine to his son, Essix.

Cyan also established a naval force in the nearby chain, and used it to expand his holding around the Wastes before conquering the inhospitable region. The Tairen Mountain chain was his last conquest, and the most costly. Not much is known about the campaign besides the removal of an ancient construct, and a terrible war with the Tairen people. Conventional wisdom says Cyan lost up to forty percent of his forces conquering the people, but diaries indicate that this conquest nearly destroyed his military might and directly brought about the empire’s downfall. However, the conquest also brought a direct source of two mysterious ores capable of either absorbing magic, or storing it for release. The increase in war production bolstered conventional forces with the now rare arcane cannoneers. Retiring twenty seven years after the discovery of the first Lord to a place now known as Cyan’s Mount, The mysterious figure built a palace and began a new research. Within two years, all contact was lost with the island despite the still powerful naval force.

Twenty-nine years after the first Lord was discovered, Essix the Claw assumed command of the Empire of Asir. He ruled for eighteen years with none of the supreme skill or drive of his father, instead squandering resources on his own pleasures, and pointless wars with powerful kingdoms that were beginning to regain parity with the Lords of their own. A known rapist, Essix was murdered eighteen years after assuming control by an outraged woman. Some monuments to Eleria Thatcher are still in existence, venerating the woman who died with the former Emperor.

Factional conflicts over who would be the next leader caused the collapse of the Empire, most of the recently conquered border areas snatched up increasing military might of Asir’s neighbors. Even the kingdom of Asiron receded from the Empire, but succeeded in retaining most of its first conquests. A new polity was formed to ‘protect’ the people against Wastelander raids and is called the Federation of Teal. It is formed up of several warring kingdoms, Asiron the first among them. Still fertile and rich in resources despite massive internal conflict for over a century, the Federation and lawless outlands on its borders contain enough soldiers and mercenaries to conquer the rest of planet, if they weren’t divided into dozens of different factions, hundreds of local baronies, and a few outright military conquests from other nations slowly accumulating the region.

Lord sheet:
Name: Tyrriel, The King-Maker

Appearance: The king maker is a fast and agile lord with reversed knees and a low amount of mundane armor. The paint scheme gives it leonine appearance, and the best fighting style for this lord is reminiscent of a predatory cat. The weapon combination is a flail and shield for the typical user, both enhanced by magic. However, the skilled user disdains both of these unless special circumstances dictate and use the extend-able claws on the top of each 'hand.' The feet also have claws on the front and back of each semi-wide 'foot' that are used to increase traction or rip into a smaller lord's armor. It is twenty three feet tall and ten feet wide.

Weapon (unmanned): Flail and Shield. Claws are retracted.

Weapon unlock (piloted): To achieve maximum performance out of this machine, the user most be a sorcerer. Non-magically adept are limited to increased speed, magically enhanced fields imbuing the weapon combo of choice, and a weak magical defense shield. The more powerful and skilled the magician is, the more abilities the pilot can activate. The increase in magical defense increases proportionally to the power of the magical might of the pilot, drawing power from the surrounding area. Lord Cyan's magical shield was equal to the heaviest armor for a lord. Each significant hit on the shield drains the user's magical stamina. The current pilot's skill equates the armor as below average. The second ability is control of fire. Weak users can sheathe limbs in magical flame for a more powerful attack. Strong users can channel balls of fire from the 'hands.' Use of this ability is also magically draining. The last ability is only available in a usable quantity to the most skilled magicians. The Roar of Asir magically heartens one's own forces, increasing morale and abilities for a brief period of time. This is intellectually and physically draining, causing a temporary loss of focus. This ability was greatly used to overcome numerically superior forces by Lord Cyan, and is the reason this machine is known as the king maker. The current pilot is unable to use the Roar.


Lord sheet:
Name: Luccien, known as the Demon

Appearance: This Lord is largest recorded, standing up to an extended thirty-one feet high, but regularly at twenty six. Its appearance is that of a crab-like four-armed centaur. It is heavily armored, and slow moving. There is no recognizable head, and the legs look like that of a crab. The legs attach to ovular lower body, and a blocky rotatable upper body is attached to that. It has a set of more powerful set of longer, tri-jointed lower arms that support the front arms that are well suited for basic manipulation and the hands can fold in to punch into an opposing lord's armor. The upper arms are attached to the 'front' instead of the 'back' like the lower arms, and are much more dexterous and fast.

Weapon (unmanned): One of the lower arms typically wields a ‘net’ of multiple chains. The upper arms wield a trident and mace.

Weapon unlock (piloted): Luccien is one of the most physically powerful lords, given its twenty foot wide base. The machine is capable of short powerful leaps of motion, and a scuttling walk. Leaps must be taken periodically due to power consumption and inhibit arcs immediately after leaps, and bolts for up to ten seconds. Despite the faster nature of the scuttling walk, the leap is usually used to leap into the midst of enemies and crush them. The real reason is that walking takes an extremely skilled user, and the current is not that skilled.

A pilot unlocks the ability to channel electricity into the weapons, and project arcs between the lower arms. If the pilot is using arcs, the Lord is immobile from power considerations. The bolt ability fires a super-charged lightning bolt at the enemy, but renders the entire suit immobile for up to ten seconds after use. Power drain is proportional to the strength of the bolt and distance of the shot. A shot powerful enough to disable a serf has a maximum range of the power drain, and a bolt strong enough to affect a lord is maxxed at a third of the range of the power drain ability.

The final ability is a low-level permanent energy drain during combat, degrading and reducing the energy of all combatants. This is continuous in when not in use as well. In use, radius of the ability increases from ten to a hundred feet, and drains morale of men up to a thousand feet away with a skill magician. The current user can only increase the drain up to a hundred feet. This is the reason the machine is called the Demon.

[Kalaam]

Name: Elric Elmorn
Race: Half-Tairen, half Aesian-human.
Age: 38

Appearance: Elric is short for both the Aesian human race who average at 6’5’’ and the true-blooded Tairen who average between seven and eight feet in height. He stands an unassuming 5’8’’. His broad build makes him look slightly shorter. He has dusky brown skin that has a slight golden tinge and a weathered look from living in the rough for so long. He has bright green eyes, and a rough hewn face with a short, broken nose. He typically has thick stubble around his strong jaw-line, and sunken eyes from sleep deprivation. He is built from thick slabs of muscle and bone, with scarred knuckles and a nick around his jaw. Elric typically wears darker brown shades or black.

Personality/Quirks: Elric was once a happy and good-natured child. This would not be apparent anymore. Over twenty years of senseless war has made him dour, with a streak in his humor that tends toward the gallows. He used to have a slow temper, but over the years, frustration and pointless waste has built an undercurrent of powerful rage that occasionally explodes to the surface. Still, despite his dark nature, occasionally the bright and charming side breaks through the cracks and is quite captivating for the short period of time it lasts. Elric is a brilliant but untutored man with self-esteem issues. He frequently second-guesses his interactions with others, especially with the opposite sex, has torments himself with perfect hindsight into his failures.

He is a loyal and deeply respectful man, with a normally cool temper. This temper explodes around issues like losing friends or incompetence. He is deeply fearful of failure, and often takes insane risks to rescue his friends, deeming a death that accomplishes something better than living without his honor. He is also deeply afraid of himself, and a thing he calls the Engine within him.

The Engine is surviving creature, and it is superb at what it does. It acts when Elric freezes, or objects from moral issues, or when it is necessary but seems too brutal or ruthless. It processes and gathers and roars only in the worst of situations. The Engine is an amoral creation of the self, a twist on his innate Tairen magic, and acts to ensure his survival.

Skills: Elric is talented with working with wood and stone, and especially metal. His best metal is an alloy known only to the Tairen, and is resistant to everything. It is made from a rare ore, that the Tairen call the Blood. The two valuable metals worked into Lord tech are known to the Tairen as the Tears, and the Nerve, short for a translation not made available to the half-breed, despite letting him into one of the mountain citadels. He also possesses a skill in mining and herding created through hard practice. He is also decent at carving wood, and has an uncanny ability to start fires, and then cook mostly edible meals from whatever he managed to gather.

He possesses the some of the native magic of the Tairen people. With fiery magic and cold void tempered and melded to their souls, the giants of the mountains are tougher, stronger and faster than a normal human being. He does not know how long the true-bloods live, but a half-breed can live up to three hundred years. The Tairen people are resistant to all kinds of magic, and use innate magic to heighten specific natural talents, leading to some caste like restrictions. His talents lie in a balance between destruction and creation, and are slowly solidifying into a rare and terrifying combination.

Weapon(s): Elric wears a Blood-alloy sword and a heavy hammer just as at home at the forge as a battlefield of a dark alloy. He is master shot with his heavy war bow, and the lighter hunting bow he uses to catch his food.

Bio/Background: Elric was born to a wealthy miner in the Iron Valleys in the Tairen Mountain chain. Elric’s father Gerald was a trader with the remaining Tairen people. The onslaught of Lord Cyan had decimated their population, and it had been dwindling to being with. He was raised in the herding, mining and workshops of the Iron Valleys, learning the typical skills. A raid when he was ten sent the young boy scuttling away to find the nearest alarm bell for the nearby garrison. The Wastelanders had been there first, annihilating it. He rang it anyway, panicking and following the method that had been taught to him.

The Tairen people were the ones who answered his frantic callings, and one giant set him aside, and kept him company. The sergeant had a hard face and daring eyes. He moved with lethal grace, and talked to the boy with respect. Elric has never forgotten that man, who went with his ten brothers into the teeth of a Wastelander raid that killed a five-hundred man garrison over four hundred miles from the Wastes, and won. They all died, but died even harder than their faces, quietly enraged, and furiously disciplined.

His father survived for another five months, hanging on despite a gut wound. He told his boy of the feud between the Tairen, and the degenerate Loernen from the depths of the Wastes. Gerald died on the footsteps of the Spire of the Heavens at the gate to the fortress of the Gates, swearing on his life that his son was blooded Tairen, from this very mountain.

Elric remembers little of his life their besides a smoky burning forge, beautiful metals, and a vast chamber that seemed to reach above the sky itself to stare into the abyssal void of the stars. He remembered facing the largest man he had ever seen, with ancient gray-blue eyes that seemed black with age. He remembered being terrified around the strong, proud children of the Tairen and facing this ancient titan’s judgment. The words Archoaon and Guardian echoed in his head.

The next day Elric ran away, taking only the sword he had crafted, and the hammer that had forged it. They were his. He ran for days, and weeks, and ran into the teeth of a fight between Iron Valleys Militia and Asiron soldiers in strange blue colors. The serfs were annihilating the brave militia and the Tairen were too far away to respond to the incursion in their borders. They were too few now to man the old wayposts, and watchtowers cunningly carved into the bones of the mountains.

The Engine roared to life for the first time that day, acting and running away from a slaughter the military that was supposed to protect them from was finishing the job the Wastelanders had started five years ago. The Asiron soldiers had pushed the militia back away from the covered machine, and kept pushing. The Engine knew what it was, and directed him toward it. It called to Elric, and with no way out of death he went toward it. He used the hammer to split the first guard’s skull, looking the wrong way. The second reacted, but too slowly, and Elric used the sword like an axe, chopping off most of the arm, then a head.

The cloth was blown off by a sudden, fortuitous wind, and the Night Angel was unveiled. It opened for him, and he obliterated the serfs, soldiers, and the rest of the town in misuse of its powers. Since that time he has roamed, knowing only war in the war torn world.


Lord sheet:
Name: Sha’Kage, The Night Angel, also known commonly as the Reaper
Appearance: This lord is vaguely humanoid with a broad chest and stout legs. Mechanical wings are sheathed in a thick armor behind the back when not in use for flight. The top of the wings extend up above the short featureless head, and are normally bent. It looks like the machine has been clad in armor, with curved and thick jointed leg armor. The feet are wide and are spiked for additional traction. The arms have an extra armor around the fore-arms and upper arms that socket into a plate like chest piece. A strange looking sword is sheathed behind its back and a shield can be socketed over the chest. The armor looks battered and strangely unlike the rest of the lord, as if a pale imitation of the true thing. A sheathe underneath the right arm is empty.

When in flight, the Reaper uses the wing armor as a way to hold the arms and legs at optimum glide angles and the massive wings look like bird wings down to mechanical metal feathers. It also looks vaguely bird-like.
Weapon (unmanned): No weapons are in play when the Reaper is unpiloted. It has a combat dagger on each side that can be used, and a punch blade in the left forearm sheathe that can be used if the machine is lacking daggers. It has a passive spell of concealment, and pools shadows around itself.

Weapon unlock (piloted): The sword is mutable into three forms, a twice curved two-handed blade, a vast scythe, and many jointed whip. The shield is detachable from the chest armor for use in melee combat but is essential in the armor for flight. When piloted the passive spell becomes active if the pilot is of Tairen blood, and activates a magic hologram of a demon over its face and vast cloak of shadow over the rest of its features. This murk resists magic and light, and is useful for camouflage. The user is able to maneuver the armored wings in humanoid form, and use them as another weapon. The curves are sharpened and the top ‘joint’ can be used as bludgeon. The wings can also be used to for boosts of speed and giant hops into the air with a decent glide ratio. The use of either puts extreme stress on the pilot, and can be likened to extreme g forces.

The user can also engage flight mode. It takes over a minute to activate and requires at least half the power battery to use. Vertical lift is extremely power intensive to generate and difficult to master. Unpracticed users can kill themselves in collisions, crash landings, and generally accumulate all the stress the machine manages. Furthermore, it requires extreme focus, and this is usually the limiting factor, not power, as most cannot fly for more than two or three minutes at a time before needing rest.

[Uncommoner]

Accepted and cleared. Nicely done on all. Now we just need Kana and Ana to poke in here.... *foot-taps*

[Kalaam]

We could open it up again? Or get some other people on reserve? Just in case.

[Mustakrakish]

Would anyone be opposed to starting, and writing their characters into the story at a later point? Perhaps they are a relief force sent to help our initial assualt? Something like that. I dont mean to sound impatient, but I am really looking forward to getting this game going.

[Uncommoner]

Alrighty! I appreciate the patience, because it's gonna pay off. IC is going to be opening up this early evening for those who are ready and raring to go. Still waiting to hear from Kana and Ana, so they can join a little later and/or we -might- be able to add some other players.

[Inerio]

Soooooo?
Just when is this starting?

[Uncommoner]

Funny you should ask, Ine. Right now as a matter of fact. IC is up and running, so those who are ready can go ahead and post away. The first scene is set for our original characters to meet, where they will learn about the sudden threat that's come from the dry deserts. Assume that your separate characters have been entreated to attend alone, either by the promise of great personal wealth to be gained or under the accord of a fledgling alliance if your character is more 'World Leader' than mercenary.

Also worthy of being noted, there is now new room for some people to join in if they are interested! Kana is going to be a bit busy and I understand that Ana has plenty of strain put on her time, so I'm going to be looking for one or two new players to add themselves in if they'd like. I encourage players to be screative with their characters, but I do have one stipulation; no more hired swords or wandering mercs. We need a nation-state leader to join in with our group, a warrior-prince or princess something of the sort. The mercenary angle is a good one for some of the characters, but we need a few people with the safety of their own homelands as a motivator, rather than just money.

[Kalaam]

Elric is not really a mercenary, even though it might seem like it to others. Also, I want other people to post, or I can come up with another character if we need more.

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