RPGTopia

Character profiles are to be added in the Lore of Leyuna (FRPG) Profile Topic ONLY.

ONLY THE STAFF IS ALLOWED TO STATE THE TIME OF DAY IN THE RPG. If you want to know what time it is, PM one of the staff. Saying "In the afternoon sun" when the staff says it is indeed afternoon is fine. Changing it from night to day, however, is not.

Story:

On the island continent of Aster, anything goes. Mythical beasts frequent every inch of the land, fighting for their own place is the ruthless world. Various civilizations call parts of the land home, too numerous to count, yet not crowded between borders. War is prevalent. Every race has their secrets, past mistakes and horrific battles scarring the land. But these are things yet discovered: The land is a blank slate. It is up to the players to come up with its history, its people, and its dangers.

Magic:
Magic is a very important part of the world. Magic is almost limitless in type: Ranging from summoning balls of fire to strike enemies to freezing the ground around you, it is extremely diverse. Having a higher skill in magic gives access to more powerful abilities, but makes the user physically weak. Using magic fatigues the user over time, with powerful spells having more of an effect. Characters can be skilled in magic and combat equally, but that means they are also limited in both. They won't be able to resist a swordsmen in close combat very well, and will not be able to cast powerful spells.

Metal:
Common metals (Gold, silver, bronze, steel, etc) can be found/created in Aster, but there are NO fictional metals. This is to prevent people from making superior metals unique to only their culture or region, giving them an unfair advantage. In order for the common metals to be created, though, it must be possible for the era. That means things like titanium are impossible to create, and thus can't be used in the RPG. Enchanting these metals to add unique qualities is fine, so long as it doesn't fall under overpowered or impossible.


Teleportation of any kind is barred from use in the RPG.


Rules:

1 ) No killing off other characters without the owner of said character's permission.
2 ) No single sentence posts unless fitting for the situation (IE a conversation). Detail is key, like in any RPG. Make each post count.
3 ) Absolutely no power playing (IE defeating/crippling an opponent in only a few posts, or making ridiculously powerful characters).
4 ) If you want your demon to be murderous like the rest, go ahead. But actually killing some random thing every post, even NPCs, is not to be tolerated. Its an RPG, not an E-war.
5 ) Starting with the "KING OF ZUPPOLAND" is allowed. Starting with an army is allowed. But if you choose this route, the kingdoms you start with are the size of all the rest, as is the army. There are no "ALMIGHTY EMPIRES" in this RPG. Everyone starts equal when they introduce a faction. Factions are (relatively) small at the start, in size and power.
6 ) Any and all mythical creatures/civilizations are allowed, even ones made up by the players.
7 ) This is medieval fantasy, so no guns, no lasers, basically nothing that isn't of the period. Think swords, magic, etc.
8 ) No overpowered or overstated creatures. Meaning: No creature, species or individual, can be the guardian of the dead or the ruler of hell, for example. Positions of power are restricted to individual factions, not the entire world.
9 ) Actual proficiency in magic is based on the users experience and skill, rather than their species. All members of a species can't be extremely powerful by default.


Templates:

Character Template:

Name:
Title/Rank (King, nickname, etc):
Age:
Species:
Gender:
Description:
Height (If applicable):
Length (If applicable):
Wingspan (If applicable):
Weapons/Equipment (Equipment, natural weapons like claws, etc):
Powers (What makes them unique. Martial arts training or fire magic, things like that):
Personality:
History (Optional):


Faction Template (For actual factions, not species):

Name of Faction (Zuppoland, for example):
Leader/Governing Body (Who leads the faction):
Capital (Capital city/dwelling):
Description of Architecture (Can be as basic as "wooden huts" or as descriptive as you can possibly think of)
Description of their land (IE, what their land mainly consists of. Again, not exact dimensions or exactly how much of what is needed).
Inhabitants (What the people are [Elves, humans, whatever]):
Armed Forces (Description of what they include in their armies. Not exact numbers):
History (Optional):


Species Template (Only for player-created species. Actual mythical species should not be filled out like this so they don't limit others who might use said species):

Name of Species:
Description:
Natural Abilities (What's typical for the species? Does not apply to every single member):
Intelligence (If they are actual animals or are somewhat intelligent. Description of what their typical behavior is like, basically):

Stalking through the towering corn fields, Uriel approached the town under the cover of night. Pushing his head past the last few stalks, the dragon glanced around carefully for any signs of the inhabitants. While surrounded by corn and other crops, his interest was elsewhere: A herd of sheep kept within a nearby field near the edge of town. Flying, while faster, was also a good way to get caught. Pushing past the crops, Uriel bounded quickly toward the field, leaping over a misplaced wagon. Landing softly inside, the dragon looked around for any signs of the animals, and quickly spotted them. Making a soft growl in anticipation, Uriel lowered himself, stalking almost silently toward his prey. Within the last few feet, the nearest animal glanced in his direction. He pounced, slamming the animal to the ground with one swipe, Uriel grabbed the wounded creature with his front feet and lifted off, soaring back into the countryside with his catch, just as a commotion erupted behind him...

An arm burst out from the choppy seas, white spray flying into the air when the mighty waves crashed onto the rock face that over looked the turmultuous water. The arm glinted in the moonlight that shone through a thick dark gray cloud layer above, the wet metal covered limb glistening before disappearing underneath the swells. A few seconds later it shot out above the surface again, followed by the dark metal helm of the being thrown about by the furious sea, red eyes locked onto the sandy shores mere yards away. His gaze was locked in an eternal glare and it disappeared under a rolling wave. The howling wind and the noise of crashing sheets of water were drowned out for the next few seconds before he was thrown back to the surface to take in the chaos before finally being dumped onto a slope. The armored figure dug his hands and feet into the first solid thing he felt in what seemed like ages. He clambered out of the surf, water dripping off of the metalic plates that encased his body. The waves crashed down upon him but still he staggered to his feet, gasping. His attempts to gather breath made a hollow echo within his helmet. He looked along the coast, smelling the salt in the air and seeing something down the way. A strange construct made of wood. The structure was simplistic, a hut made from drift wood. Along it was some sort of walk way, a dock. It too was made of wood, though it was expertly made. Even cuts of wood tied together extending out from shore to the rough water, taking the battering of the waves without as much as a sway. A bit more inland was a settlement obscured by trees, with a large stretch of buildings also crafted from wood and vine ties. The armored figure, exhausted and confused as to how he wound up in the sea and tossed onto land, staggered off towards the village. Where was he? And why was he in the confine that was his armor? The latter question, he knew no one could answer. He sure didnt know the answer. Infact, he didnt remember anything, other than fighting to stay above the water and scrambling to the coast...

Servan slowly strided through his clan's area within the Bay Village, walking towards the area that appeared similar to a lake by the beach, before sitting with his spear in hand, his youngest sibling beside him. "Watch closly, sister. You'll learn how to hunt and fish with these lessons father taught me years ago," he stated with a soft voice, before choosing the closest and largest fish and tossed the spear into the pool. The item just missed his target, but hit another and bounced off a rock as he reached in, picking the tool up soon afterwards...

"So how's the fishing going?" A man asked, sitting on a chair with bamboo like struts and a leathery seat. Next to him was a comrade with a matching chair situated on the boardwalk, facing out to the sea. "Eh. Last few d'ays be 'acking. Weh'der and such, done near got my boat sunk!" The other man replied with a gravelly voice, shaking his head. "Some 'ody done rile'd da serpents, I t'ell ya dat!"
"Riled the serpents?" The first man asked. "What are you bloody talking about? Serpents dont make bad weather! And why the hell do you keep talking like that?"
"You 'ave much to learn my 'ellow man. I've al'ways voice-waved 'ike dis. Infact, dis reminds me of a sto'rey o' one o' me runs" The second began to say, when the first slapped his palm to his face. "Not another of your stories, man..." The man said, his voice muffled.
"It began 'ot too diff'rent from ta'day!" The other said with a boastful tone, raising a fist to the night sky. "I was a'battling the sea with the wind ramma, 'atching wave after wave crash ab'ard! The fabric upon my mast was t'arn and was flutt'rin aboot like a defeated king's cape on the battle f'eld! My net was full o' fish and I was gonna bring dem all 'ome!"
"Uh huh" The other man said, as if he didnt believe his friend.
"And off da 'tarbard bow I saw dis...dis...dis...red eyed knight!"
"What?" He asked. "A knight? At sea? I know you like to make up stories, but this one doesnt make any sense!"
"No ya git! The red eyed knight o'er yonder!" The man said, gesturing to the figure approaching. Half of his body was shrouded in darkness. The other glimmered ominously in the sliver light of the moon. His crimson eyes burned into the souls of those their gaze fell upon. He approached slowly, and he physically heaved with each step. A hoarse noise escaped him as he neared the two men. "Thats no damn knight!" The man exclaimed as he shot onto his feet, spinning his chair about so that it was between himself and the armored being. His friend did the same. "Where did'ja come 'rom e red-sight'd beast?! No man 'ith a soul res'embles da likes o' you!" He demanded. Desrium opened his mouth, the metal on his lower jaw swinging down as he let out a rasping sound. "Come on man!" The sailor's more level headed companion urged, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. He started running down the dock towards the torch- lit huts beyond. "We got to alert the authorities of the demon knight!" Desrium heard him say in the distance. "De...mon...knight?" He said lowly, his throat dreadfully parched from the struggle he endured. He took another rasping breath and continued to stagger on down to the village, unaware as to how upsetting he really was.

A deep growl is heard within the bowels of a dark, dirty cave. Bones littered the front of the cave, the stench of decaying flesh covering the area. Statues that were made of those who wanted to slay the beast within stood about the outside, having been left as warnings to those who were dumb enough to cross before the cave.....

A large, brownish-green beast emerges from the cave, crushing a few skulls and boens udner a foot. Khorne scans the area where his lair was: dark, barren, covered with dirt and ash, and filled with the stench of death. He trully KNEW that his home was within the wasteland. The Basilisk kicks up some of the ashes that covered the ground. The darkness helped the old Basilisk see, so the monstrous basilisk began his hunt for food....

As Servan kneeled down and reached into the tide pool to pull his soaked spear, his 18 year-old sister seemed to grow bored, shortly before asking, "why don't you just tie some vine to the back of that and tie the other end to your arm so you don't have to lean in and do THAT?" his reply being, "because you wouldn't manage to make much kills as you would from the less limited throws." Soon, he pulled his tool out, a small grey fish pierced through it's flank with blood gushing out of it. The man quickly pushed the dead animal off of the tip of his spear into a wooden basket his sister had brought for the fish, the man preparing for another throw at a fish soon after...

Khorne crawls low to the ground, spotting a Hippogryph feeding on the low lying shrubbery in the wasteland. The stupid beast had not noticed the Basilisk, for his scales blended in slightly with the hideous earth. Khorne gets up close to the beast, and raises his head high up to strike. By the time to Hippogryph notices its opponent, it reacts too late. The basilisk has his prey locked in his jaws, injecting his deadly venom into his prey. The Hippogryph thrashes about for a few seconds before going limp, the deadly venom killing it quickly. Glad he got a kill, the Basilisk drags it back towards his cave to eat........

The town far in the distance, Uriel began to descend, gliding back to the earth gracefully. Letting the now-dead sheep drop, the dragon touched down, turning around to face his prey. Digging in without hesitation, Uriel was ignorant to the danger in the distance. The inhabitants of the town, all working folk who were tired of the silent raids, had formed a mob to search the surrounding area to find any trace of the thief.

Draco watches over his kingdom, the sunlight glittering in the slightly dewy air. Draco smiles- something he rarely does. 'What a beautiful day,' the young prince thinks to himself. He places one hand on his longsword before turning back into the palace of Freyr-Lunge..........

The sounds of distant voices caught Uriel's attention, the dragon raising his blood-stained head, the crown of spikes near the back of his skull standing on end, alert. Spying the torches from his perch, the dragon's eyes turned to slits, letting out a deep, rumbling snarl. Only partially satisfied by the kill, Uriel found it better to simply leave it. Getting to his feet, the dragon trotted to the opposite side of the small bluff and lept off, relying on the small mountain to obscure his departure from the pursuing mob...

The door to a large hut with broad leaf covered walls swung open with a creak. The people inside were conversing lively amongst themselves under the light of fire lit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Spaced evenly from the center were three rings of tables, with 8 tables in each ring, and each table seating up to four people. They were all drinking out of festive cups made from carved wood or woven flasks. At first the patrons of the social hub paid no mind to the newcommer, but as heads turned, conversation became hushed muttering. Desrium shuffled past a table, turning his head to look at the people seated there. They all fell quiet in his pressence. As he walked, he looked to someone's glass. He stopped walking and reached out to the glass. The person relinquished their drink with haste, getting up from the table and moving far away. Others followed suit. Desrium raised the drink and quickly threw his head back, pouring it contents into his mouth and quenching his great thirst. Once he was finished, the dropped the empty cup back to the table, ignoring the streams of the blue drink that ran down the grooves in his helmet. It had a mint like flavor, a new sensation to him. As he was about to sample the other drinks in the place, he heard the distant sounds of people. Angry yelling reached his ears, statements like "Get the demon!" and "Cleanse the village!" He knew those words couldnt mean anything good. With a low, irritated snarl, Desrium turned back to the pub's door and walked as fast as he could to get out. He wasnt welcomed in this new place, he knew that. He'd need to evade his pursuers and find a place to rest and regain his strength...

The prince of Draxon walks into his imperial suite, a smile on his face. Draco marches down a flight of stairs to the lower story, to the main hall of his father, Drakun II. The prince approaches his father, seated upon the throne, before half-kneeling before him. "Father," Draco says, "has there been any news of what happened to the scouting party we sent out two days ago?" Drakun II. "Unfortunately, no. We have nto heard form them sicne they left. Hopefully they are okay." "Do you think the elves are behind this?" Draco asks. "No," the old man states. "They are probably jsut taking a long time to send a messager back." Draco sighs before standing up. "I'll be back in a few hours, father." "Alright. Be back before sundown." Draco turns before growling to himself, "I'm not a child anymore..... why does he treat me like one?" The prince leaves the castle to go for a walk....

The voices gradually disappearing behind him, Uriel soared over the countryside, his coloration making him almost invisible in the night sky. The dragon made his way toward a nearby cluster of mountains, knowing that he would safe there, past experiences telling him that most mortals did not like the icy mountaintops...

Desrium stepped out of the pub and onto the boardwalk, swiftly turning to the thicket of plants at the side of the wooden path. He made his way over to it as he heard the voices become louder. His armor reflected the warm orange light of flaming torches. He pushed his way into the shrubs, trying to be as quiet as possible. He fought his way through the vegetation until he had gone under the cover of trees. Vines hung down from the branches above. The moon's light barely made it past the tree tops. The thick undergrowth and darkness provided ample protection to the armored being, who ducked down behind a rock and kept his head down. He didnt need anyone catching the light of his eyes. He heard rustling not too far from his position, and the chattering of the mob coming after him. The flames of their torches cast strange shadows and scared off small animals. Birds flew away with a loud fluttering and speedy creatures darted across the ground and into bushes, leaving shaking leaves in their wake

Just as he raised his arm higher for a better throw, Servan caught a glimpse of a nearby hunting party from his clan heading towards the forest that their people lived upon. "How about you try catching a fish or two," the elven said, handing his weapon over to his sister, who just nodded in agreement and prepared to toss the item. Servan began running over to his friends, shortly before jokingly stating, "hope you all manage to bring back a grand amount of food to feed our civilization," a few laughs or expressions of annoyance coming from the group as they continued along, Servan slowly walking back to his sister soon after to help her out...

The voices gradually became louder and louder, and so was the rustling as they neared the armored stranger. "Drive the monster back to where it came from!" Someone shouted. "Leave no place for it to hide!" Someone else added.
"Im no...monster" Desrium thought, perplexed as to how, exactly he knew the language of these people. He was confused as to how he remembered his name, but nothing else of his life. He was confused as to how he seemed to learn things despite having no experiance, such as his drive to keep away from the mob and their fire because he knew they were a danger. He was confused about the thing strapped to his back, a sheathed sword, and even more confused as to how he knew how to use it...

As the mob inched closer and closer, Desrium instinctively reached over his shoulder, gripping the hilt of his weapon. He slowly lifted up as he listened to the rustling. It was getting louder. The voices couldnt be more than a few feet away. The light of the torches was bright. He was just about ready to wrench his blade out and jump into combat stance, when suddenly the mob split up. People wandered past him or started to head back to the village all together. They were oblivious to the fact that he was right there, sitting in the undergrowth with his back to a rock. After a few moments, the torch lights and the noise had disappeared. Desrium let out a sigh that echoed in his helmet and released his sword. He relaxed his aching body, staring off into the darkness. The only thing he wanted to do now was rest. It was his instinct to just stay where he was and drift off somewhere, with only a feeling that the cool night was not going to last forever...

Gliding between two mountains, Uriel spotted a settlement, isolated from the world by mountains on all but one side, which lead into a thick jungle. Intent on making up for his lost meal, the dragon began to descend toward the base of the mountains, the area around him slowly turning from snow-covered peaks to humid jungle the further he went...

Sitting in the dark, the armored being started to think about himself, about how he was so different from this world around him. He knew nothing about his identity, about what he was underneath his metal skin. He only knew that it seemed to contour perfectly to his body, allowing him to move as he would without the suit on. Desrium put his hands to the bottom side of his helmet and pushed up, trying to take off his metallic face to no avail. He pushed a little harder, but still the helmet stayed firm. He moved his hands down to his neck, trying to feel for the gap of the helm but felt nothing but a smooth transition. Seamless. His hands dropped back to the ground, and his gaze dropped slightly. More questions. No answers. He was starting to think trying to solve the mysteries of his existence would be an impossible task. He didnt know anyone, and he was sure nobody knew him. He was all alone in this strange world...

Scar-Leader Kroq-Gar scoured the ruined remnants of a Draxon village his army had only recently burned to the ground. The warm-bloods had encroached too deep into the forests of Lustria, and had paid the price for their recklessness. The humans had been making raids on the outermost Lizardmen borders, stealing gold and befouling ancient ruins that were sacred to them. Kroq-Gar made a rumbling growl deep in his chest at the thought, one which his mount, the Carnosaur Grymloq, echoed. The ancient Saurus Warrior watched his fellow soldiers search through the wreckage for any survivors...