Wednesday, May 24, 2006

some old stories from the vault

I used to play a PBeM game with several of my friends called Legends when run by an Australian company called PBM Enterprises. It was a great game that combined strategy with the hack and slash of battles between monsters and heroes. To this mix my friends and I added as much roleplaying as we could. Below are the stories that accompanied our first war with what would become some ongoing enemies within the Legends game worlds. We won that war, and the rest of them...



Tales from the Southern Shores

The Battle of Dreeva Hills

The Hollow Man looked down at his reports. A tear trickled from his eye as he read again of Captain Anasasia's valiant stand amongst the woods of Dreeva. First she had stood against the soldiers of Mischief routing this poorly led force, sending Zaria's vermin infested army scurrying into the undergrowth where their roach riddled carcasses would feel safe. But it was with the arrival of the forces of Raven and the 500 that her true heroism shone as she met the rabid forces of the cancerous Beth on the slopes and amidst the valleys. As she fell in the onslaught she must have known that her duty was done and her mission fulfilled. He put down the reports of this epic stand and knew that she would die rather than tell them anything. The Hollow man also knew that it was unlikely this enemy would learn anything anyway. After all they couldn't tell a man from a woman and seemed to be fighting over the corpses on the field of battle! Or was Lord Raven repaying the incompetence of Mischief? Or was Beth of Parnis herself the incompetent general and couldn't tell friend from foe? Maybe Zaria would learn something and pay Lord Raven a visit and exact some recompense? However it falls, whatever the answer to these questions, the Hollow Man knew that Anasasia's sacrifice was not in vain. *.*.*

News from the Front

A report from a deserter of the army of Mischief.

'Yeh, well we had just been routed by this enemy army when our allies came over the hill and attacked us killing most of our knights and cutting down our leader - yeh, it was really weird, I think our leaders are a pack of morons' *.*.*

The Incident at Shawnhurst

Edmund awoke from a nightmare of which his last memory had been a smelly itchy blanket covering his face. He sighed and attempted to sit up but alas it was no nightmare the dastardly fiends of the Lords of Avara had him bound hand and foot. By the sounds of it they were carousing downstairs in the Inn of the Bearded Elf. Edmund began to struggle against the bonds wiggling his hands and feet in an attempt to loosen the ropes when uneven creaking on the stairs and a drunken cry of: 'I'll (hic!) check (hic, hic!), luk inta (barf! - [vomitus splashing noises]), ther prisona (hic, hic! - [stumbling noises])' told him his captors had not quite forgotten him. Edmund quickly slipped his Shawnhurst Army Knife into the palm of his hand managing to unfold it's small but versatile blade. With a flick of his wrist his hands where free and he sliced the bonds from his feet. As the door fell open Edmund jumped to his feet and a vomit covered man he recognised as Fineth all but tripped through the door unable to negotiate the threshold. The trip was unfortunate, as Edmund had hoped to win Fineth to his cause, but, as he looked on, Fineth impaled himself on Edmund's knife and died (with gurgle, gurgle and vomiting hic hic noises). *.*.*

The Battle of Porta Rocha

A messenger runs into the Porta Rocha Keep. His heart pounding to the same beat as his booted feet which strike the stairs propelling him upwards. He bursts into the broad chamber which is the command and control of his industrious city. He quickly comes to attention in the light streaming through the expanse of windows surrounding him. As he moves to attention the light falls upon the crest on his right shoulder and a rainbow of light bursts from the silver scales that mark him as a soldier of the West Island Co. and the Integrated Mercantile Federation (IMF). General Orimbus looks up from the table at which he stands. 'At ease son, what is your report?' The young soldier falters under the gaze of this great General. But his respect, awe, loyalty and courage galvanise him and he resolves to be the best messenger he can be and so win the approval of this great man. All this had gone through his mind in a split second and in a calm neutral voice he reports: 'Sergeant Bloodsea sends a message: Raven's army has left Porta Rocha Norta heading south. The army seems intent on bringing you to battle. Initial reports indicate 310 soldiers with 160 of those accursed Warrior Mages known to come from the cancerous bowels of Raven Stoneheart and the bile filled intestines of the Lords of Avara' The General turns back to his map quickly taking a piece of parchment which he scribbles on. He folds the note and passes it to the messenger. 'Good work son, take this to the Sergeant, she will understand - now go' As the messenger turns to go he hears the General order up another messenger. 'Tell the field force commander to stand to, unless this army wishes to bring them to battle they should not be drawn in. No, we will allow this army to fall upon us and die in the ditches and moats they have forced us to ring this beautiful city with. They shall die under the ballista in our towers and Captain Anasasia shall be avenged - run soldier we must be ready.' The messenger now hears a second rhythm to match his own, both pounding down the stairs. The messenger hits the ground floor and runs into the light making for his horse and the battle that comes. *.*.*

From the Ballad of Porta Rocha

(as heard in the Inn of the Porta Rocha Pixie)

Sing muse, of the anger of Raven Stoneheart and the devastation he would visit many times over on the Federation and Avarans through the follies of his heart... ...Jusran Ravenjay notched an arrow to her bow as she searched for a patch of sunlight through the blinding sheets of blood falling from the clouds brought on by Beth of Parnis. Below her the fields of Ravenjay’s Porta Rocha were awash with the seething mass of cohorts that the Lords of Avara had brought against her adopted city but the cries of anger from this army did little to distract her search. There, amongst a galloping knot of Knights, she spotted one of the followers of the bastard son of her distant ancestor’s second cousin’s great grandson’s nephew Hiraldo Della Raven. Nichnora was riding high in his saddle, hands stretched to the heavens as Nichnora came on amongst his charging Knights. As Nichnora sped onwards he cried out to the heavens and they responded and, as Nichnora stretched forth his hands to the sky, a rent of darkness appeared above him and, as he spurred his horse onwards, the Avarans took heart and charged forward. Ravenjay took aim as she felt the bow grow taught in her hands it’s mystical energies seeking the dark foe that it, and she, knew must fall if this bastion of a hope filled future were to survive. Below her a bloody mass of Berserkers charged headlong into a ditch but again these needless deaths did not sway her from her purpose as she released the bolt of vengeance. Ravenjay watched the arrow strike Nichnora in the midst of his fever pitched cries. The bolt pierced his dark rimmed helm as the vaporous forces he had been summoning were taking shape above him but, with a spraying arc of blood and brain, the body was pitched head long from his mount. As Nichnora’s body tumbled to the dirt and the mist of Nichnora’s foul heart fled the field of battle Ravenjay was grateful to see the rising darkness disappear in a fresh sea breeze bringing with it a burst of radiant sunlight. With this portent Ravenjay heard a mighty Hoorah! issue from the Porta Rocha battlements as a great host of Knights pitched forth from the gatehouse into the quailing foe singing a chorus of joy and gladness as they reaped a harvest of victory under the noon-day sun.

The Hymn 'Saviours of the South'

As performed to Raisnoah by the Mariner's Faith Orchestra and Choir

And a thousand horns cried out in the night with the thundering of Raisnoah's might.

And fell upon the vulgarity that stood as symbol of Stoneheart's grim incongruity.

And the defenders did hide and cower amidst the ruins of each and every house and tower.

And onward rushed the Starshine, which fell firey and grim, upon each and every evil and sin.

And forward rode Joru Westshadow, Angel of Life and Death, he rained a hail of woe on the

grim darkness below.

And forward sped Ulrich Von Parnis, Chaos' Dread, he brought flight to that grim and craven

sight that was each and every soldier who had bolstered Raven's might.

And as the walls crumbled and the heavens rumbled and the slain fell and tumbled so stepped

forward Ornette Marragon, Mighty among Men, whose rising call renewed the rage of that wrath

filled riot that issued its cry from the dark stormy sky.

And as the shining knights paced forward a thousand fireflies descended as Rafel, the Righteous

Libertine, from his right hand flighted the mighty fire brand.

And on sang Orphic Sarsha as her subtle song subdued, the swelling stinking stewing mass who

sank in sudden shock, the soldiers of Castle Caledor.

And as the dewy dawn dispelled the dim of dark the sick and stricken sought sweet solace on

steaming muddy soil.

And one and all each foe still standing swept forth his striking sword and fell upon the

slicing fleche in sorry recompense.

And across the field drenched by tears and terror stretched the saviours hands as saddened by

the sudden slaughter salvation still struck asunder each and every sorry soldier.

And mighty were the fallen whose endless cries were broken as haughty attitudes were spoken.

And Raven fled the haven with dark pitch of cawing craven as each rook and raven swept from

its hidden haven and distended sky of this his haven with darting flight and wing swept sight

in one last malignant flight above the dark stone sight that was the roost of Raven.

And so edged the halls long miss-shapen by the cruel and dark rapen that did lead to his

mishappen so wanton cruel and craven crashed to deep dark cavern never to rise renewed reshapen

Castle Caledor of that cruel bird Raven.

Exerts from 'the Whitestorm Civil War'

The Speech of Edmund Scott to the citizens of Porta Rocha

What evil is unveiled in the heart of the Whitestorm dynasty what calamity stands in its black infamy amongst the races of the Dynasty? Before us the Orcs have spoken of their league with Keryth Nightstar that odious ill-omened originator of the evil and corrupted Lords of Avara. She who handed the fruits of the west, those wondrous creatures a brood of Drakes, to the cruelest foe of civilization - to be misshapen into steeds of doom. Before you lay the proof of what I knew in my heart that a well of darkness is sucking all that is good into its gaping maw. That a torrent of blackness, a Charybdis in the West, has slowly gained moment and finally arisen seeking to suck us down in a whirlpool of destruction. It was you, Keryth Nightstar, who warped the minds of Raven Stoneheart and his poor brother Luthor Lionheart, you who have turned the course of Zaria from the righteous path for in your heart we face the bane of the Whitestorm Dynasty. What unbound malice has plunged us into a sheer abyss and forced us deeper into the flames of war? Did Griffoness among Dragon Mountains or Scylla barking from groin's lowest part produce you with a mind so hard and horrid that you could call on darkest forces and pray to evil creatures, ah too cruel-hearted. That ill-omened daughter of the Whitestorm, that daughter of Remus, that stalker that darkens the woods of Evenclear and the once beautiful Elarion forest has brought the Orcs to the west in a league of evil that will surely bring ruin into the west. For surely Keryth Nightstar you realise you have doomed your name to the inky well of infamy as your every step is stalked by dread in its winding path to ever-darker dominions. What stands before this league of evil and this unveiled familia of Chaos? Once again the Integrated Mercantile Federation (IMF) must come forward. The well spring of peace and prosperity must face the bitter teeth sown on the fields of Porta Rocha by the dread foe and once again the IMF must step into the light to strike against the strife brought on by that Lord of Avara Keryth Nightstar. I stand before you with every wound I have taken bared on my chest, never in flight have I been wounded, and I see before me the men and women of the Southern Shores each and everyone of you wears your wounds as badges of courage. Never have you in flight been wounded and never in flight shall any soldier of Porta Rocha, the West Island company or the IMF be wounded. The armies that march forth as I speak must hold back the evil night. The armies that march forth shall face fears evil might. But, the armies that march forth are destined to put this enemy to flight. Who brings these Children of the Night to our shore? That aptly dubbed star of the night, Keryth Nightstar. Who has committed crimes grim of war? That infamous daughter of the dark, Keryth Nightstar. Who has sentenced herself to death's deep dark maw? That baying Scylla of the soul, Keryth Nightstar.

Spiderwood

Edmund looked down at his hands deep in thought.

‘What have I wrought with these?’

He looked up at the skyline of Shawnhurst with its white stucco walls and calm harbour. But for the emptiness of the wharves this city could almost be Edmund’s native Porta Rocha, his city that he had been away from too long. Today he was meeting with Count Vangreer. This would be his third meeting and hopefully this time Edmund could convince the Count to place the loyalties of Shawnhurst with the West Island Company and the Integrated Mercantile Federation.

The Count had previously been the target of Raven Stoneheart but he had wisely declined the foul offer, no doubt sensing the chaos and dark flow that lay behind those words. But the Count had declined Edmund too, the sense of independence this city had saw it attempt to stand aloof from the world around it, whether it be the calamity of the Lords of Avara or the ordered wealth of the Integrated Mercantile Federation (IMF). But as Edmund put his hands upon the rail before him and looked once again from the balcony of his abode he smiled.

‘That empty port I can promise to fill, but this promise I have made before, now though I know something else and can promise the Count something far more important.’

Edmund took one last look out over the Shawnhurst wharves and harbour before turning to face the sun and stride into his quarters. His meeting was soon and the Count, a military man, was not one to enjoy the tardiness of his guests no matter their rank or importance.

.*.*.*.

Edmund was no soldier but the necessities of defending himself had led him to kill, as it had led him to order the deaths of many whom opposed the goodwill of the IMF, and this would stand him in good stead before the Knight and Swordsman, Count Vangreer. Edmund strode into the brightly lit dining chamber of the Vangreer’s keep, the emblems of the West Island Company and the IMF shining on his right shoulder and drawing the attention of many of the other guests of the Vangreer court.

‘My good Edmund. On time I see’

The Count strode forward hand outstretched in greeting. Edmund shook his hand.

‘We are both busy men Count. You oversee your beautiful city, while I have a Company to administer and a city and alliance to see to. We have many things to discuss Count.’

Edmund and the Count turned towards the dining tables and the Count smiled.

‘Ever straight to the point Mr. Scott. No doubt you are here once again to try to sway me and my city from our paths of neutrality? Must I re-iterate all my reasons for maintaining this position? While I do prefer you to that now deceased pathological boaster and ephemeral windbag Raven Stoneheart and his rapidly dispersing Lords of Avara, upstarts calling themselves that! Liars, Laggards and Lamingtons of Avara is what I say! Never the less I see no reason to alter my position now. Speaking of lamingtons, I think it is time we ate and left this topic. Don’t you agree?’

Edmund smiled, he had never liked lamingtons himself.

‘What of your daughter Count Vangreer?’

The Count stopped dead and turned to Edmund.

‘What of my daughter and what do you know?’

‘I have heard songs and rumours, songs and rumours of dark things, of spiders in the night, of black claws and webs of evil. I know where your daughter is, as do you, but few do, is that not right Count?’

The Count nodded, not just to Edmund but to himself and the ghosts that frosted the air around them filling the empty spaces until the real world ceased leaving only Edmund and Vangreer.

‘I know that there are rumours that you fear to tread those woods Count, why is that, why would a man such as you, Warrior, Hero and Leader of men fear the dark things of Spiderwood?’

The Count looked at his own hands.

‘I fear what I would become if I entered that dark place. I fear what I would find if I rescued my daughter and what I would have to do to bring her back to me. I fear the dark places in my own soul, the places we all have but most of us bury.’

Edmund put his hand on Vangreer’s shoulder.

‘I can rescue your daughter Count, I can silence your critics and save you, I can return your life to you, will you let me do these things Count Vangreer?’

The Count continued looking at his hands.

‘What will you do Edmund? Can you rescue my daughter? Can you return her to me alive?’

‘I can Count Vangreer, I can, but you must join me, if I am to do this I need your support, if I am to venture into my own heart, if I am to walk the Spiderwoods, will you stand guard for me Count Vangreer?’

to be continued…

The West Island Company

Captain Anasasia stood atop the bluff overlooking the town of Northvorn as the last rays of the sun started to dissipate over the horizon. Even in this failing light she kept the trees to her back screening her silhouette from the Dak lookouts hovering in the skies above the town walls. As she surveyed the scene her practiced eye made out the movements amongst the ravines that traveled below her redoubt and followed a circuitous path in the general direction of Northvorn. These movements came from her soldiers, men and women of the West Island Company Marines and Knights and Archers of the Southern Shore.

Northvorn had previously turned out West Island Company Traders and rebuffed overtures to join the West Island Company Prosperity sphere. The Daks appear to resent the high profile the Merfolk have achieved within the Company structure. Further a putative police action under the command of Ravenjay had been turned back with substantial losses inflicted by the barbarous and racist puritans within and above those walls which Anasasia looked down upon. Now it was time to show the recalcitrants the error of their ways and bring them into line with the Company. With these thoughts running through her mind, Anasasia turned back towards the trees and her waiting horse. It was almost time for the assault and, despite this exposure to danger having already killed her she sought action in the front lines where she could serve the Company and Edmund to her utmost. She mounted her horse and began the descent into the ravine below.

Anasasia arrived with the front echelons in good time and dismounted to move on foot amongst her troopers. She had planned the attack with precision and it would have gone ahead with or without her. The West Island Company prided itself on a civil and military institution built on initiative and a high edge of training with each corporate able to do the job of his or her superior. It would, though, do much for morale to have the hero of Dreeva hills, who had sacrificed all to delay the Foul Avarans, lead them personally into battle.

Around her a ripple that only the soldier could sense passed along the ravine she stood within. It jumped from ravine to ravine as the soldiers tensed in the darkness. This blackness seemed to pool in each ravine and rise to engulf the city as the sun vanished behind the stone walls that each soldier had his or her eyes upon. It was at the changing of the guard that the assault would begin. Already depleted by the earlier West Island Company action the Daks no longer maintained a staggered rotation and this gap would be their undoing and hopefully minimise her losses.

The last Dak dropped from the sky and silently several hundred soldiers rose from the darkness and jogged toward the walls. It was 500-600 yards from the closest ravine to the walls and as her front line reached the mid-way point a flight of silent arrows passed overhead. Each arrow carried a dangerous mix of airborne poison that would strike down many of the defenders before they were even aware of the attack and then dissipate in the minute it would take the knights to seize the walls. The front lines reached the walls as the arrows hit the ground and as the ladders went up not one defender had yet been sighted.

Captain Anasasia was one of the first atop the walls amongst the Southern Shore Knights. As she surveyed the town below strewn with bodies of soldier and civilian alike, the Daks had not stood a chance against this organised assault and its deadly poison gas, a great cry filled the air above her. A heroic Dak charged from the sky a great battle cry issuing from beak. As one, each archer took aim and with a flurry of feathers shot him from the sky.

Captain Anasasia turned once again to the city below as preparations for its erasure began.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

A new magus underconstruction for a new Saga

Anecavanya Ex Miscellenea

Confident and proud of her abilities and heritage Anacevanya is still driven to eclipse her reputation as one of the many Hedge Wizards within the Ex Miscellenea House. Her reputation is derived from her membership of Ex Miscellenea, as well as her bloodline of Colchian heritage. A descendent of Aeetes - a lineage that joined the Order of Hermes after it’s founding from an area that had earlier rejected Bonisagus’ overtures - the lineage is therefore considered suspicious in the eyes of many. In attempting to achieve this eclipse Anacevanya accepted additional training from a senior Bonisagus member of the tumultuous Levant Tribunal, to whom she owes favours, she accepted a similar offer from a member of House Flambeau – both are apparently allied in the Tribunal. The Bonisagus Magus improved her knowledge of Magical Theory as well as introducing her to Medicine and Philosophiae. The Flambeau Magus improved her Penetration, Finesse as well as building on her aptitude with Perdo. In addition to these connections Anecavanya retains a close and respectful relationship with her Parens. Who provided her with ample training in other Arts and Forms, especially Creo and Vim. They spent a great deal of effort eradicating any vestiges of her magical heritage which would be considered negative by detractors amongst the Order. Only the strange cold breeze, which can rise to a gale with spells of great strength, remains – this appears only to raise the fears of those without magical resistance but is not of itself dangerous, or forceful. In addition to the bloodline of Aeetes Anecavanya draws on the lineage of Circe and the Greek Hero Odysseus, through their son Telegonus, as well as the God Dionysus through his marriage to Ariadne.

The Magical Blood

Aeetes: an example

Circe: an example; from the Odyssey or the Metamorphoses

Ariadne: an example; The curse on Theseus in Catullus 64

Medean parallel: an example; from the Argonautica

The Faerie Blood

Dionysus: an example; Catullus 64

Helios: an Example

Friday, May 19, 2006

Carthagum's form of government

Carthagum will most likely be a Timocracy where only access to wealth and how you spend it on behalf of the state determines your eligibility to vote, take part in the government and judiciary and lead the people; do you spend your wealth honourably - I like the duality of the Timocracy definition in the Greek: wealth equals honour; if you weight Aristotle and Plato equally. Gender and race are not determining factors, though these will probably affect your access to the means to take part in the State. This means the State will be stratified with Rich, Middle-class and Poor crossed by those within each class who choose not to spend their money in support of the state – for what-ever reason - I have not quite determined why you wouldn’t other than they don’t like spending their money, or maybe they don’t have access to what you need to spend that money on, ship building facilities, property or mercenaries. Then again maybe they don’t like the City’s politics and there are not enough of them to change the policy course so why spend the wealth at all.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Working Draft - A Description of Carthagum

The Island Metropolis of Carthagum

Situated on a mountainous island surrounded by a maze of hidden reefs Carthagum is huge. Three sides cordoned by league high cliffs it spills down its concave hillside into the sea in a cacophony of blues struck across by wide pathes of red. At the ocean it continues as giant white fingers of merchant and military wharves that dwarf a multitude of small red houseboats moored and bobbing between each, from the land to each other this red flood flows into the large deep blue harbour.

The harbour is the largest in the known world and can accommodate the fleets of Carthagum’s families, the city's military vessels and the navies and merchants of her tributary vassals. From the cliffs to the east and west of the city massive white stone walls stretch into the ocean, merging with natural reef and rock ledge to form a huge fortification and breakwater, keeping the harbour safe from nature and any enemy fleet. Atop these guarding walls siege engines and battlements protect against any direct attack on the encircling stone.

Amongst the multitude of colourful tiled roofs two massive red and white marbled boulevards stretch from the harbour up to loop and join behind a single blue marbled edifice that reaches into the sky at the top of the city – the council chambers. Across both these boulevards stretch – at the third and two-third mark - two more boulevards of equal grandeur, each travels from joining behind a large red and green park on the eastern cliff’s edge to another on the western brink. These form nine clearly demarcated areas of the city. Along these four boulevards, at intervals, are smaller but similarly blue-marbled buildings situated within their own red and green parklands, the civic, financial and military districts of the city and the famed Carthagum University.

Seemingly swirling from each of these blue veined buildings are market, shop and multi-story tenement districts, as well as the larger domiciles of the city's multitude of wealthy families. These wealthy, commercial and middle-class districts border the blue of the civic centres and the reds of the major transit routes across the city and from the pinnacle of the government building to the harbour.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Background for Ro-Koran Malakai

I am also playing in a great Arcana Evolved game being run by Steve, it has been fun as I and the other players settle into our characters and this new world. Below is the beginning of the background for my Giant character, Ro-Koran Malakai.

Ro-Koran

The Middle son of one of the elders of the Ro-Malakai family, Ro-Koran has the weight of his family history, combined with the aspirations of matching his father, mother and elder brother and sister in their achievements, all on his shoulders. IN addition he feels he must always provide guidance and protection to his younger brother and sisters.

Malakai family

Father: Ro-Ashurah (Evolved Giant/Ritual Warrior)

Elder Brother: Ro-Yaqin (Warmain)

Younger Brother: Ro-Akham (Witch)

Mother: Ro-Ansar (Evolved Giant/Witch)

Elder Sister: Ro-Bakhti (Warmain)

Younger Sister: Ro-Salat (Ritual Warrior)

Younger Sister: Ro-Ayah (Ritual Warrior)

Ro-Koran takes these responsibilities very seriously and it shapes how he acts in the wider world amongst other giants and races. Those he views as younger and not as strong he seeks to guide or protect, those older and more experienced, who have obviously done just service to their family, clan and society, he seeks to learn from and respects.

The Malakai are a martial household and his family holds their house and lands as reward for their role in liberating them, and the people on them, from the Dramojh. The land and the people are to be protected and looked after justly.

His family is close knit both within itself and to the broader clan with annual clan gatherings which include rituals, competitions and festivities always attended by the Malaki. The family also attends annual inter-Clan gatherings which again feature rituals, competitions and festivities but also provide an important opportunity for courtship between different Family and Clan members.

Two pillars define Ro-Koran’s existence, loyalty to his family and honoring his ancestors through taking guidance from the Malakai Books of Lives.

Honoring ones family includes:

Respect for and taking guidance from ones elders while providing guidance and respect to junior family members.

Honouring one’s ancestors includes:

Interpreting the deeds and words of Malakai ancestors as presented in the Books of Lives which were brought from the Homeland and continue to be written.

Monday, May 15, 2006

A new Saga and some new characters

Unfortunately we are soon losing our storyguide to Sydney and therefore our Fontis Niger Saga will be coming to an end. But one member of our group is taking up the mantle and starting a new saga. This provides me with my favourite part of role-playing, the chance to make some new characters. To this end I have been researching Colchis, Aeetes, Medea, Circe and Odysseus with this group being the inspiration, forebears and relatives of my Magus. Much of this is recovering old ground from my time at Uni so it will be fun to put all that knowledge to use developing the character and then playing the game. I am also looking at playing a Bandit with Pagan tendencies, his roots in the land and his safety assured by the local communities. Kind o Robin Hood but with less violence and more charm. The Saga is set on Cyprus so he can draw on links to Aphrodite for his charm. Both characters are similar in having a background with the Greek Gods, obviously, but very different in the capabilities available from the heritage of each.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Hanno's Background

I have also been working on a Dungeons and Dragons character for a game I am playing in, this one hasn't been going for as long as the Ars Magica saga but we are making progress and getting in many bar room brawls. See below for the short background I have provided the dungeon master. Now he has asked for me to write up Carthagum - history purists look away as I am about to bastardise the Athenian empire and Carthaginian by mashing them together into bubble and squeak.


Hanno’s background

Born and abandoned in a back alley of the great trading city of Carthagum, Hanno was raised by combination of his own wits and the less than altruistic hands of swindlers, professional spruikers, thieves, bouncers, bartenders and prostitutes. Hanno likes all manner of action.

Carthagum is a large and prosperous city state where everything is for sale, and everything is available. Combined with this is a total absence of discrimination, so long as you can pay, and all manner of humanoids and goblinoids exist in a semi-peaceful state with a multitude of other races. Hanno can happily exist side by side with anyone.

Amongst this population Hanno spent most of his time in the Carthagum docklands amidst goblins, dwarves and humans learning to talk, fight and think his way into and out of trouble. It was in these alleys that he also found and started to worship the Goddess Volineadiri before joining a Corsair crew bounds for the Open Ocean and distant ports. For want of a mentor or father figure Hanno has embraced his religion and is a fanatical follower.

Volineadiri (Neutral Evil) is the Goddess of Drink, Wenching, Song and Death. She is beloved of the Corsairs of Carthagum as she offers guidance for Ocean travelers and those that get in fights, loves the confident and dexterous, is a Goddess for the individual and bloody unpredictable and favours the Cutlass and Rapier. To achieve Divinity Volineadiri has and continues, to cheat death an infinite number of times and looks most beatifically on those who cheat death in the mortal realm – of course this means that when you die and stay dead she has no time for you.

Dominic's Background

I have been roleplaying in an Ars Magica saga with a few friends. This has been my first game of Ars and I have been thoroughly enjoying it - story telling is a huge component. Below is the background for one of the characters I play in the game, my companion Dominic.

Dominic’s History

A Short History: The son of a mother who had ventured to far into woods of the next valley, Dominic was born into an ill-fated village; overcome by Diabolists and the machinations of the infernal. Rescued by a secretive Holy Order devoted to protecting humanity from the Infernal, Dominic was raised to fight the darkness. But he outlived most of the order which adopted him; it was largely destroyed by the diabolic machinations of an unseen and still undiscovered foe. Despite this Dominic maintains the mission of his order: to seek out and destroy the infernal.

The longer story:

After his birth it was apparent that Dominic was no human baby, decried by some as a demon and attacked as ill-fated by others. Dominic and his mother would likely have been cast from his village but for the intervention of Demonic machinations – something had decided that it had a use for Dominic and it came for him through the villagers.

The place where he was born was a small town situated within a wooded valley amongst the beautiful rolling hills of Northern Italy; Dominic’s family was part of a village which was consumed by the infernal. Those within the village who had resisted the gradual onset of this had been by turns sacrificed, strengthening and binding the creeping darkness that rolled wetly across their village. Eventually the village was shrouded in a thick grey cloud which buried it within the darkened valley and neither sun- nor moon-light fell upon it – it was hidden from the sight of God.

Only the local priest had held out within the village’s small stone church, eventually starving to death sitting at his table, the bible open before him as he read passages to stave of the mist, darkness and infernal beasts scratching at the church doors and prying at the shuttered windows. He died gripping his staff, wearing his voluminous robes, mouth agape in final horror as his soul failed to penetrate the evil surrounding his church sanctuary.

While the priest had starved, the villagers had consumed each other, fey beasts and creatures unfathomable to the human eye had grown and now roamed the mists within the dark vale searching for their prey.

To this darkness a Holy Order of Knights and Priests had been drawn with their retainers; forming a small but formidable army. Blood-filled visions and dark premonitions had brought word and they gathered to engage this dark hole opening in Italy, to destroy it and maybe fathom why it came upon this village.

This scattered secret army had protected Europe since the birth of the Holy Roman Empire; they kept watch for the darkness and gathered, moving on words and visions that few but they saw. Staying separate from the vagaries of biblical interpretation and the machinations of religious politics the order instead focused on a mission - though believing it would ultimately fail utterly - of preventing the consumption of all humanity by the infernal; it was this singular focus that likely lead to their ultimate undoing.

This army slowly gathered to the south of the darkened vale, knights readied armour and whispered to their horses; priests blessed their fellows and conducted ceremonies in preparation for the coming battle. Relics, great and minor, gathered over the centuries, were brought forth and readied for the charge into the heart of darkness.

Finally fifty-three Knights, Priests and foot soldiers entered the darkened vale, their movements stirring the edge of the black mists. Through the deathly quiet they slowly gained momentum the strike of hoof and the clank and squeak of boot, armour and weapon, echoing behind their movements, gathering urgency as they gained pace, growing and rolling until a storm had gathered and it passed them with a thunderclap, breaking a whole in the mist.

The Holy Army stormed through the fog. Rising up before and around, visages of horror - the grotesque grinning gaping maws of villagers transformed by consumption of flesh, dark clawed horrors of fur and fangs - reached out snapping, chortling and scratching at the soldiers of God.

Mounts were dragged down horses screaming, men of god reaching for the mist filled air, red fountains filling the skies, thickening the air before wetting the cobbled streets. But the thunderous wedge of soldiers charged on for the church which they knew held the village and their salvation.

The stone church loomed. The wedge of soldiers crushed the gibbering masses before them. But, behind them a horde filled their wake, many more beasts than they crushed before them. The mist and darkness was a creature itself, breeding, and the soldiers would need the strength of the church, both brick and faith, to turn back this propagating tide.

Sundering the doors barred to the evil that had stalked the village, the small army burst into the dead Priest’s sanctuary. With a wail, the departed Priests soul was sucked into the black maw that was now the church door. The priests gained the altar, marking out symbols on walls and floor around it, placing bells and igniting incense sticks that flared with rainbow halos. Soldiers and Knights stood fast before the broken door.

As a tinkle of bells began and the bright incense cast rainbow halos the blackness at the door came alive, with slurping pops soldiers where sucked from the doorway, others seized by teeth, tentacle and claw, limbs rendered from torsos, red painted the threshold.

But each sacrifice bought time and as more frenzied became the consumption of soldiers so the bells rang louder, incense flared and a chanting rose with a clapping begun to feint to hear but which rose to a roar then all exploded. White light blinded all of faith, exploding the shuttered windows and ringing the church bell in great peels. The blindness passed in a moment and when it passed the blackness had given way to bright morning light streaming in form doorway, window and lofty stained glass.

With the sunlight streaming in the attention of the surviving members of the group found their attention drawn to a church vestibule, within the vestibule they found a baby wrapped in warm clothes. Despite the fearful appearance of the baby the priests quickly determined the he was untainted by the evil that had infested the town and though they found something intangibly disquieting about him they took him into their order and sent him back to Rome as an adopted member.

Dominic was trained in Rome, under the tutelage of first, Father Aimé Sanxay from whom he learnt French, Latin and Italian along with church lore and the humanities, then Father Lucius Olivé from whom he learnt combat and the skills to hunt the infernal, then finally Bishop Maximillian Aurelius Quintus from whom he learnt about the order and its mission and mentored Dominic until the fall of the Order.

In 1215 the Order was destroyed. Dominic does not know the how but news was brought to him by Brother Jakob Nachtmann, a Sergeant in the Order of Sanctus Pessum d’Diabolus. Jakob had responded to a call brought to him by one of the birds of the forest, he had gone to join some of the Order to investigate a duty. When he arrived in the area he grew suspicious and only warning carried by an owl saved him from being surprised by a group of assassins, he fought his way out and escaped. Since then he had been attempting to find other members of the order, Dominic was the first he has found, after discussions it was decided Dominic would continue the Orders work and that Jakob should return to Rome to seek answers, but Dominic has not heard from Jakob since. Before parting with Dominic Jakob entrusted a Holy Relic into Dominic’s safe keeping.

Years after the destruction of the order a premonition brought Dominic to the North of Italy, to a small hamlet on the North-East coast. Dominic’s earliest memories where dark ones, even in the womb he had dark disturbing dreams and could sense the growing evil in the village that he and his mother lived in. This instinctive sense grew very strong in the vicinity of this village. Normally a group of the Order would assemble, between 20 to 30 members, depending on the drawing power of the darkness that members felt or learnt through the different senses they possessed, this would allow a full survey of what they faced and a proper cleansing, if necessary with no survivors. But this time it was only Dominic that arrived.

Dominic waited; with growing disquiet he watched the hamlet. At night he would see dark figures visiting different houses, in the daylight all looked normal people walking between houses, visiting the market. In the darkness he would see fires glowing and hear the cries of the infernal pledges, but again in daylight only normalcy, children playing and farmers tending their flocks.

He resolved to cleanse the village in the daylight.

Starting before dawn, just after total darkness had passed, Dominic moved from house to house, invariably sensing great evil and then killing every occupant. But singly he could not work fast enough and as the sun lifted in the sky people began to see what was going on, this strange foreboding evil figure, drenched in blood moving from house to house in armour carrying weapons, cries of fear and pain emanating on his entry, only to be cut off. People began to flee, some to fight back, and eventually Dominic realized that though he had killed many in the village he would not get them all and he was forced to leave the town, heading west, making his way from Italy towards Spain.

Additional Background

Dominic’s diabolic past

The infernal growth amongst the village of Dominic’s birth was not a coincidence; it was coming for Dominic and had even entered his house. His Mother’s husband – not his true father – a Diabolist himself, who had sacrificed many in the village, was eagerly awaiting the birth of his son, it was foretold his son would be taken and great reward bestowed upon the giver. Dominic’s mother had given birth outside the Town’s church; her son was rescued by the Priest, Father Christoforo Adalgisa who had divined that the child was something special, she wasn’t so lucky.

Dominic’s Sidhe heritage

Dominic’s mother had been taken by a Sidhe while she was picking mushrooms in the nearby forest, she never revealed this to anyone and her husband did not know.