End of the Beginning of the End

The Bone Ridge Covenant

Background: Weißkamm (white ridge) was one of the most prized fortresses of the Kaiser Hanz Von Lubt-Sigmaringen’s Großoccitanian Empire. Rich in not only metals and strong stone, the towering white stone ridges were home to a treasure much dearer than any other, true elemental earth. Weißkamm was home to a grand prince of the elemental royalty, Pedoseion, second only to the Earthen king, Kamin, himself- and the later made his home on distant elemental planes and never ventured to Gensin.

When the mage-wars came, Von Lubt-Slgmaringen ordered his Baron, Clemens von Eicknach to hold firm, to stand against the magelings and their summoned creatures but, ultimately the order was all he gave. Too busy holding the great fortress of Reikland and its criticial breadbasket valleys, Kaiser Hanz Von Lubt-Sigmaringen was unable to send troops or material aide and Weißkamm was left to its own devices and soon was forced to withdraw to its mountain halls, closing the great stone gates that no one not of dwarven blood could tell from the mountain face, and wait out the death and blood.

There would be no such respite. Within four months of closing the great doors, a new sort of threat made itself known. Sneaking in through small cracks and shafts the dwarves kept to maintain their air-supply and to mirror in sunlight for their crops, the creatures were unknown to Eicknach and his vassals. Appearing as demonicly twisted bat-like creatures, they would spread their wings wide and a green and yellow fire would burst from the underside of their wings. Though they did not know what it was at the time, the dwarves of Weißkamm soon grew to know these flames all too well. Banefire they would call it. And it was to the souls of hell what flame was to a dry summer forest. If one looked into the fires of the fluttering demon-bats, and if one cocked and ear to listen beyond the fluttering wings and the crackling flames, one could make out the reaching fingers and arms of the damned, hear their gasping cries of pain and insatiable hunger. The flames would jump from these demons and consume flesh and soul of the dwarves in their home. But that was not the worst. For these early scouts soon revealed the location of the Weißkamm gates to their mageling masters (whom they called Nahuaulli) and very soon there was no more hiding.

The blood-mages of Mictl, who sacrificed virgins and innocents to summon devils and demons had come and they would not be denied. Waves of demonic fiends were sent against the defenders. The Onaqui were demonic creatures, part jaguar, part bat who shifted from shadow to shadow and hunted the halls and homes of Weißkamm with a hunger that could never be assuaged. The jade toads sent miasma and boils in great rolling crowds. And always the banefire, burning stone, and metal, flesh, and soul alike, insatiable and all–consuming like no mortal fire can be.

Von Eicknach stood firm but very soon the grand hall had fallen to the Mictl and the baron was forced to fight a guerilla resistance from the twisting halls and mining shafts of his home as his people’s children and women were sacrificed at a Mictl alter erected under the grand intricately carved stalagmiteof the central hall.

All looked impossible when the priests offered one last chance at home. They would awaken the grand Prince of the Earth who resided deep beneath the mountain and enlist his service against the invaders.

A grand ritual was conducted in the deepest mines, the site richest in precious elemental earth and very soon Pedoseion himself stood before the dwarves, who themselves were perhaps somewhat startled at the success of their endeavor.

But Pedoseion was greatly changed. The corruption of the mountain, the burning and maiming of its soul, blood magic defilement had similarly corrupted Pedoseion. Gone was the walking mountain of stone and rock. Instead a creature of bone and fire, blood and shadow stood before them, consumed by hatred and despair, violence and like the banefire that had burned the mountain’s soul, an unquenchable saddism. He struck at the priests who had summoned him and slew six, leaving only two, the high priest Emmerich and his apprentice and study, Lamprecht. But Emmerich was quick and spoke words of warding, runic chants that bound the fallen prince of earth and stone in magical bounds.

Von Eicknach was nearly a broken man. Their last chance at survival lay corrupted and twisted. As the Onaqui, and bane-fire bats, and the jade toads, and the sulking shadowy Nahuaulli continued their ceaseless advance, Lamprecht offered a new solution. Pedoseion had spoken to him and offered to save the dwarves, and to destroy the Mictl, if only they would serve him, bringing destruction, despair and terror to mortals. Pedoseion offered a compact. But the price was too high for Von Eicknach and he refused, choosing instead to maintain the honor of the Großoccitanian and his illustrious house than to save his people.

But Lamprecht could not accept death, neither for his clan, nor for himself. Pedoseion had been cunning and devious, weaving a tale of seduction and hope for Laprecht that he could not ignore. And so, one dawn, as Von Eicknach’s Black Fletching guards fell to banefire that jumped from wall to tunnel to flesh with a horrible need, Laprecht smudged one tiny line in the high-priests wards. Immediately the corrupted elemental prince struck at the apprentice acolyte and paralyzing him with poison, let him lay where he fell, his face against the wards, his arms at his sides. The wards blazed with new fire, green and yellow, as those of the Mictl, but these were Pedoseion’s flames and the bat-creatures that flew from his hands and the terrible stalking jaguar-fiends that crawled from the pit at his feet, these were the prince’s. And so deep in the caves of Weißkamm, demon fought demon and ultimately the Mictl were forced from the caverns.

When it was done, the dwarves looked at one another with terror and a despair and a certain dark knowledge for the offer made by the corrupted prince of the earths and the answer given by the baron were well known. And the high priest Emmerich could not be found. And Lamprecht was horribly burned across jaw and cheek but not consumed by the banefire like no dwarf before him was. Sole-survivor of soul-devouring flames, his beard horribly charred, his face horribly scarred, many knew he was somehow responisble, and perhaps they feared and loathed him even as they celebrated their survival and victory.

Pedoseion had gone but his demons remained. Lamprecht explained the dwarves of Weißkamm had made a compact. They could remain in their mountain home, have safety and security, and serve the dark elemental prince, or they could leave. Some did and the Baron Clemens von Eicknach led these, honor to his name, but many stayed, battle-weary and broken, or perhaps unwilling to follow their Baron to what must surely be his doom. Von Eicknarch refused to step down as baron, and insisted he would return one day to purify the mountain and its living spirit, but for now, he chose exile. He could have slayed Lamprecht, for Von Eicknarch was a great warrior and Lamprecht but a thin acolyte with a quick tongue, but such was not his will; perhaps in a way, he respected the decision made by the man to save, in some small fashion, what remained of his people.

As for Lamprecht, he was a new man, and some said a devil spoke in his ear, for his tongue was silver and when he had finished addressing his people in the grand hall so recently won back from the Mictl, standing atop their broken alter rising over the piles of dwarven heads and skulls, the people cheered, despite their damnation. Without a baron, Lamprecht became regent, and the people called him the Traitor-Regent, though they loved him somehow, in some blind way. He was reborn in blood and abandoned his old name, taking for himself the name of Tlachinolli, a name from the tongue of the Mictl meaning ‘fire holder’. And some amongst the people followed his lead, and though the Mictl were gone, their terribly bloody rites, their demons, their fire, and even their names had remained.

Pedoseion was not done however and though Tlachinolli, the traitor regent, and his people did not know it, the war continued to wage across the valleys and mountains of the surface for the Prince of earth, or Prince Illearth, as the dwarves soon nicknamed him, could not be satiated with any amount of mortal blood and always would need to spill the blood of man in great countless waves. Inside the mountain, the once beautiful carvings, statues, and frescoes of dwarven warriors and cherubs that filled the grand halls and tunnels came to life, growing horrible claws and wings and burning with green-yellow fire and taking the bodies of the dead Mictl and their demons, drew them into the great central stalagmite of the grand hall. And only when the bodies of the enemy had been taken by the mountain and the frescoes returned to stillness, though now of corrupted angels and demonic dwarves, was there peace.

As the demons faded away and the dwarves of the Eztli, for this now was the name of the dwarven hold once known as Weißkamm, rebuilt, they began to grow curious of the lands beyond their great secret doors. Tlachinolli ordered them opened and when he did, a great shaking and magical lightning swam and flew throughout the aether and the stone. And the dwarves of Eztli looked out upon a new land unknown to them and looking back at their great white ridges, the soaring heights and dizzying chasms of their mountain home, they beheld where the bodies of the Mictl had gone, for great spires of stone rose from the ridges like stakes and from these spires hung the dismembered bodies, limbs, and heads of the Mictl and their demonic servants, half encased that their skeletons never be recovered from Prince Illearth’s stony embrace.

Faction Name: The Bone Ridge Covenant (or Eztli)

Leader Name: Tlachinolli, the traitor regent

Leader Trait: Merchant

Leader Background: Tlachinolli is first of the dwarves of ‘White Ridge’ corrupted by the fallen prince of elemental earth, Pedoseion. His corruption in turn went on to affect the remaining dwarves of what his now known as Eztli. His is much more Prince Illearth’s creature than he wishes to admit, even to himself, despite Pedoseion’s return to the mountain, for his spy and embassary, an imp of the lower planes, remains with Tlachinolli, never far from his side. Invisible unless wanting to be seen, the imp speaks to Tlachinolli telepathically and empowers his tongue with a charisma and glibness that could only be demonic. It is this glibness that makes Tlochinolli able to sell anything to anyone, even their own damnation.

Starting Location: (Zone 117) "The Bone Ridge”

I don’t care about the rest of the zone (well, i do, but i don't want to intrude) but a slice of the south should be towering white mountains with unnatural stakes of stone rising from them. The stakes bear entrapped human skeletons and strange demonics remains in them, half entombed, to last for eternity as a sign of Prince Illearth’s bloody vengeance.

Origins: Dwarves

Traits: Industrious (they are dwarves after all)

Capital Type: Dwarven hold



To EQandCIVfanatic:

I would love to start with some mages, demonic warlocks who have embraced the new order, if the stats allow for it (or even some demonic servants if 'special troops' are called for).

The imp is meant for RP purposes only, but if its not okay, then feel free to change it. Otherwise i hope the application is okay.

Faction Name: Conclave of Alim
Leader Name: "Alim". His real name is unknown.
Leader Background: Mage
Starting Location: Zone 6
Leader Background: The Mage Wars have destroyed the fabric of time and reality. So much, that things stopped making sense, something that the inhabitants of Tower soon realised. As a part of one of the many mage regiments recruited by various empires, as they were surrounded and littered by fire and magic...then a flash of light...And they were somewhere else. As the arch-mage of this tower, he decided that this new world would be theirs to claim, and made it extremely clear that he would be the absolute ruler of this tower and it's inhabitants..
Origins: Mage Veterans
Traits: Innovative
Capital Type: Mage Tower
Background: The Conclave of Alim was shortly established after landing upon a once-great city, now merely rubble. It was heralded as Thedas, the famed city of old which had millions and millions of inhabitants. Clearly, the name was rather ironic; this city might have been great, and there were tunnels used for mass-transportation, but today, it is not.

All that stood was the tall spire of the Tower. It could be seen for miles around by whatever creatures managed somehow to live by. Of course, the mages, being mages, aren't very friendly. But the things people do...

Faction Name: The Prohibitionists
Leader Name: Master Essa Kayle
Leader Background: Gambler
Starting Location: 43, by that pretty lake

Leader Background:

She lost her husband, like so many other women in the village, to the Mage Wars. She learned carpentry and began secret meetings to organize against the Master. When the townspeople raised pitchforks in revolt, she led the march up the stony road to the Master’s fort – where she declared the prohibition of magic forevermore, and by popular consensus became the new Master – Master of the Prohibitionists.

Origins: Townspeople
Traits: Adventurous
Capital Type: Fort

Background:

Distraught by impending doomsday, the commoners of Essa Kayle’s village revolted against their aristocratic leader, a mage privileged with the title ‘Master’ of the local fort and nearby village, who continued to support the Mage Wars. With over half the men of the village dead or at war, the women and remaining town elders and children marched toward the fort, where they slaughtered the Master and his guards – just as the world was torn asunder. The townspeople of mostly women hence forswore that magic would be their eternal enemy, issuing a permanent prohibition on use of magic, before burning the late mage’s library of spell books.

Stories:
The Root of Evil

"Again."

Niles Koffter angrily pushed himself up off the ground, using his shield and sword hilt for leverage. The Mage stood at the far end of the room and surveyed him with judgmental eyes from underneath his cowl. As Niles once more got into position, the Mage spoke "You are not fighting another human; stop treating it like one. Use your shield to not just reflect the attack, but to cast it back to your enemy." Scowling, Niles brought his kite shield up with his left arm to just below his eyes and, bringing his sword up and holding it parallel to the ground, pointed it at his opponent.

The small elemental continued to float in the middle of the air, unchanging day after day. Little more than condensed electricity, it had only enough magical power to shock or stun a man, which was more than enough for these exercises. Niles and his four comrades once more started to fan out around the bobbing orb before Mage Kertan started yelling at them again.

"NO! NO! NO!" The older man seethed. "How many times must I tell you? This is not some wild animal for you to surround and kill, nor is it another soldier for you to attack from all sides! This is a thing of magic; if you attack it like that again, you will only succeed in reflecting its attacks at each other like you did before! Attack it from the front, as one!"

The four warriors nervously lined up shoulder to shoulder, fighting all they had been taught. Large, slow moving formations made easy targets for mages; better to be quick and nimble to avoid destruction. But their new armor and weapons would negate that problem, at least it was hoped. The warriors began marching forward towards the little elemental abreast with their swords out. With a wave of his hand, Mage Kertan released the elemental from its docile state. Once again, it started shooting our small tendrils of electricity towards the four troops. This time, however, the shield wall started reflecting the magical energy back at it, rather than at the other soldiers. Taking heart, the men marched forward faster while maintaining their line. Sparks of energy continued to ping off their shields, leaving an odd taste in the air and setting Niles' hair on edge. The squad quickly closed the distance and when they were in range they struck quickly, stabbing the shimmering ball with their runed swords. With a pop and a fizzle, it disappeared.

"Excellent work!" Mage Kertan congratulated the men as they slapped one another on the back. "I think that warrants lunch outside." The men cheered again and move out of the classroom and towards the main foyer. The Mage Tower that the men had named Rolloth's Vigil sat in the middle of the isle of Chorith, one of the many harbor islands that dotted the sea entrance to Anmari proper. Chorith was one of the middle islands known as the Knuckles, a remote chain that guarded the south east approach to Anmare. Their rocky terrain and icy winds meant they were not ideal for farming and thus the perfect location for the Collective's experiment. Anmari frigates were close enough to keep away any sea raiders and the shifting tides and treacherous shoals kept away any merchants. Even those who passed near the island would have a hard time distinguishing the Mage Tower for any of the other rocky crags.

The four would-be Mage Hunters and their instructor moved outside into the sun. Because of the glyphs and sigils placed on their armor, many of the "normal" luxuries of suits of mail were lost; there were no spells to keep the wearer cool, nor any enchantments to make them lighter. It made for more work than the men were used to, on top of new fighting tactics. Captain Stayne and Mage-Consular Hyreth had begun training the hundred or so men they had recruited as soon as they had arrived on Chorith. The ten mages had quickly constructed the tower, while the soldiers had patrolled the island and made sure it was safe. They had then started training the men in groups, both to ensure that there were guards available to repulse any attack and to allow the smiths to forge their new armor.

Niles admired his armor as he shimmied it off and sat down. The runes on it appeared to make it less shiny in the sunlight and it seemed to be absorbing the light itself. Almost all armor nowadays had some sort of enchantment on it, whether it be to make it easier to carry or to dampen a killing blow, magical or physical, some even were imbued with magical ores to make them stronger. Legends spoke of ancient dwarven warriors having suits of armor that could repel magic, specifically those favored by the elves, flinging their casted spells right back at them. Similar armor could be crafted, but only by the wealthiest nations and only for a select few, generally monarchs and their bodyguards, as such a process could take years and tons of gold. The armor the Collective was crafting was far more different; it was being made to absorb magic. By using runes and glyphs mages generally used for protection and wards, Captain Stayne and Mage-Consular Hyreth had concocted a way to arm and armor troops to not only repel magical attacks, but to have them make the weapons and armor affected stronger than before. Hyreth had found records of such experiments before, but they generally did not get far, as they required mages to craft such weapons and it is generally unwise to craft the method of one’s own destruction. But with the Mage Wars ravaging the land, there was little choice left for tiny Anmari, lest they be swallowed up and destroyed.

Niles and his friends sat in the sun and ate their lunch of bread and cheese with the normally chilly wind cooling them off nicely. Because of their remote location, supply runs were occurring only once a month or so, bringing food with them, along news from the outside world with it. The garrison instead relied on the hordes of food stored deep within the Tower’s cellars, far from the workshops near the spire’s summit that could (in theory) destroy the runes that kept the food fresh. The reports recently had not been good. The Tesh’Dirnon had nearly breached the Western Wall and a combined Anmari and Gurmanzol force had barely been able to repel them. At the same time, a pirate fleet had descended upon the Empire’s northern islands with a contingent of Frustar mages, burning the cities and slaughtering all they encountered, except those taken back to the Frustar cities as slaves, or worse, experiments for their magical Institutes. Ever since, training had been more hurried and urgent. With the Mage Hunters in play, such devious Frustar attacks would be much more costly for the enemy. Now, more than ever, troops like Niles and his comrades were needed on the battle field.

His group represented one of the last training cadres. Niles’s eyes looked over the wall surrounding the tower where he could make out the expanse of the Gawnaw Sea beyond. The sound of fighting brought his attention back to the tower. Across the courtyard, a team of archers fired on a target that another mage had casted a Shield upon. The enchanted arrow tips sliced thru the protective spell like it wasn’t even there. Further away, he watched four other warriors in plate mail, further in their training, battle a full-fledged elemental. The massive rock and dirt creature flailed its four arms at the attacking footmen, but whenever it struck one of them it seemed to shed part of itself, instead of turning the offending attacker into a pile of goo, as was the normal outcome of such a fight. As Niles watched, three of the attackers kept the creature’s attention in the front, prodding it with spears, while a fourth footman quickly maneuvered behind the creature. With skilled deftness, he slashed at one of its three massive legs, slicing right thru the rock as though it were butter. Suddenly off balanced, the elemental tumbled landing on the ground, where the other soldiers jumped on it, hacking away. When they moved off of it, nothing remained but a pile of rock and dirt. Niles and the others joined in the cheer that arose from the spectators.

“Alright, lunch is over!” Mage Kertan’s voice snapped the men back to the present. “Let’s head back inside and work on a more devious target. Maybe a blood imp!” The soldiers groaned. Unlike the immobile lightening orb, blood imps were nasty little creatures, cast off minions of a bygone age. Hunting in packs, they could tear a cow to pieces in a few minutes; a full grown man barely lasted a few seconds. One by itself was not as dangerous, but it would still be quick and full of teeth and bad intentions. They had their work cut out for them. As he stretched and put his chain mail armor back on, a part of Nile’s wondered what they nullifying enchantments would do to the foul little creature. He slid his helmet back on his head when the whole world suddenly went dark. His first thought was an attack by another Frustar raiding party but the wards placed around the island would have warned them or at least negated the totality of the spell. He tried to move to shelter, to call out, but found himself rooted to the spot. Lightening crackled across his vision and his skin felt like it was being prodded by a thousand hot needles. Time seemed to warp because even though no more than handful of seconds had passed it felt like he had been there for eternity. Suddenly, he had a sensation of falling, like in a dream, but instead of a soothing spiral, it was like he was being ripped apart piece by piece. He tried to scream but no sound escaped his lips. He could feel, in his very bones, the pain of the others around him. Then, he could have sworn he heard a voice whisper “No”.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He shook his head, clearing his vision as the pain swiftly faded away. He flexed his arms real quick and didn’t seem to have suffered any damage. Niles turned to check on his friends when he saw a body on the ground. “Mage Kertan!” He shouted, rushing over to his fallen teacher. The mage was unconscious and stone cold, but not dead. Niles quickly took off his cloak and wrapped it around the Mage’s still form. “Quickly! Someone get a fire going!” One of the other soldiers nodded and dashed off. He heard other such shouts echoing from the courtyard and tower itself. The soldiers all seemed to be fine but the mages had all lapsed into unconsciousness. He heard Marcus, one of the other recruits, calling his name, but he ignored him, focusing on Mage Kertan. The color started to return the older man’s face and his eyes fluttered open. Niles breathed a sigh of relief and helped the Mage sit up. “What happened?” the older man asked groggily. “An attack?” Niles shook his head. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Niles!”

Marcus’s tone was laced with fear and awe. Niles got up and turned around, noticing other soldiers looking out over the wall as well. The small elevated hill that the tower and courtyard sat upon no longer showed the near endless sea, with swooping gulls and whitecaps. The tower now sat in the middle of a vast frozen plain with piles of snow. Whatever had happened, they weren’t in Chorith anymore.

Lol Tolnoi were going to have a weird start

Stats and zones are updated on the front page. Update 0 will be at some point tomorrow morning or early afternoon.

Um, about that time I killed your faction in BOTWAWKI which had existed since the start of the game? No hard feelings, right? All was EQ's fault, I swear

We friends?

Don't worry I don't hold grudges.

*Secretly write Tolnoi name on hit list*

Faction Name: The Knights of Ynys Gaer
Leader Name: Lord Commander Tristan Argantael
Leader Background: Warrior
Starting Location: Zone 132

Leader Background (story based):

Proud occupant of the position of two hundredth fourteenth Lord Commander, Tristan comes from an ancient noble lineage. His father was one of the most powerful vassals of the emperor, but it was his mother, a great adventuress, that inspired him, telling stories about heroic quests while teaching him the arts of war. Youngest of the brothers, he chose a military career and joined the Order of the Knights, to the delight of his mother and his father's disappointment. His adventurous personality made him rise quickly through the ranks until he became the new Lord Commander, with a relatively young age. Unfortunately, the tragic events that followed ended up destroying the empire he so yearned to serve ...

Origins: Warriors
Traits: Militaristic
Capital Type: Fort

Background:

The Order of the Knights was one of the most powerful institutions of the old Empire of Westernesse. Usually their primary duty was the protection of his Imperial Majesty, but they were also put into great use in warfare, as these became increasingly frequent. When the Great War was beginning, the Emperor sent most of the Knights to the front, where they were later killed. The remainder of the Order, including their new young Lord Commander, stayed behind in a attempt to evacuate the capital and save the Emperor.

The Emperor's plan was to evacuate all the riches of the capital to a distant province to the south, Ynys Gaer, also known as Citadel Island. When the Great Destruction occurred, the imperial fleet was already approaching the coast, but few survived. The large galley of the emperor sank along with many other vessels. Many treasures have been lost, and many lives were swallowed by the sea... It is believed that millions attempted the failed crossing, and not even the bodies arrived at the seashore, lost forever amid the magical chaos.

However, a few vessels, including 'Sun Wind', the personal galley of Tristan, survived the disaster, arriving on the coast, where they soon found the ancient fortress of Faecaer. The place had been built long ago, as an outpost of the empire, but soon the fortress lost its strategic value and was donated to the Order, which used the place to store their archives and celebrate solemn occasions, acting like a second home to Order, whose headquarters were in the capital.

Once they arrived, Tristan installed his men in the fortress and made the necessary repairs without taking time to investigate the rest of the island, or the fate of its people.

Additional Information:

My little tribute to Nikolai Gogol:

Faction Name: Free Reach of Zlatokraina
Leader Name: Vakula Gogol
Leader Background: Gambler
Starting Location: 99 or any other landbound location.
Leader Background: Before the Mage War, Vakula was just a village smith assistant in Dikanka steading. When the magic catastrophe started to tear the reality apart, Vakula, along with other farmers, headed to the nearby Dikanka Potion Brewery, hoping to find cover from the cataclysm under the protection of local alcomancers (masters of creating magically-charged alcohol). Little did they know the Potion Brewery was being evacuated under the order of Zlatokrainian Hospodar (High Lord). Stuck in the empty brewery, the refugees hid in a magically sealed expired potion warehouse, which must’ve saved their lives. However, abandoned by legitimate authorities, they quickly fell victims of a brutal power grab by some of the countryside thieves and hoodlums. Taken hostage by the village thugs and stuck inside a badly lit warehouse, Vakula and a couple of his friends decided to spend their time at the favorite Zlatokrainian hobby: heavy drinking. At some point, the supply of their gorilka vodka ran out, and Vakula and his drinking buddies decided that the party must go on. The only source of alcohol left were the dangerous high-power potions stored in boxes with skull-and-bones labels – but not like such dangers could ever stop a bunch of drunkards. The results of the drinking game were bizarre to say the least: one of the drinkers had his nose detach itself from the rest of the body and turn into a strangely looking nosy midget; the other boozer found his eyelashes growing insanely fast and eventually becoming so heavy that he couldn’t open his eyes anymore; as for Vakula himself, his potion brew seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. Panicky prayers and loud swearing of Vakula’s drinking buddies attracted the attention of the thugs, and soon the hammered village smith found himself in a big trouble. He said some words that shouldn’t have been said, and half a dozen thugs were about to stab the young idiot to death to make an example of him, but to Vakula’s surprise one of the thugs slipped on a vodka puddle and fell on his knife. The other goon stumbled on his dying comrade’s body and broke his neck against a stool. The fight that ensued quickly led to the death of the remaining four bandits from an accident that involved an untied shoe, an oil lamp, a swallowed button, a rope, a broom, and a bitten cucumber. Before Vakula knew it, he found himself praised as a hero and a liberator of the village folk. As his intoxication receded, Vakula realized that the expired magic vodka he’d drank was a luck potion which effect was increased rather than decreased due to its defect. When the cataclysm was over and the only surviving people of Zlatokraina left the Dikanka Potion Brewery to the brave new world, it was the lucky fool Vakula Gogol who led them as their village headman.
Origins: Townspeople.
Traits: Agrarian.
Capital Type: Mage Tower.
Background: Before the Mage War, Zlatokraina wasn’t known as a center of learning or industry, with a sole exception of the magic field of alcomancy (the art of creating powerful magically charged alcohol). In fact, Zlatokraina was nothing but an agrarian buffer nation that managed to protect its independence only due to the fact of being used by major nations as a useful proxy state. However, as tensions grew higher Zlatokrainian Hospodars had to choose sides in the looming global conflict. No wonder that an outburst of hostilities quickly led to an enemy invasion of Zlatokrainian countryside with subsequent evacuation of the ever-precious potion brewing industry into the country’s interior. It was that decision that allowed the villagers of Dikanka steading to find their shelter in an abandoned brewery warehouse when the sky started spewing frogs and fireballs. After spending several days in the Brewery, the villagefolk decided to open the seals and see for themselves what had happened to their land. What they discovered could be split into good news and bad news. The good news was that the world didn’t end completely, and there was plenty of land still left around the brewery. The bad news was that that patch of land was all that remained from their beloved country of Zlatokraina, and they, apparently, were their nation’s sole descendants. Having established their main settlement in the Dikanka Potion Brewery, Zlatokrainian peasants are working to rebuild their old nation as a peaceful and independent commune of peasants and craftsmen in the strange new world.

Apparently, the new world will be littered with magic fireballs and blood sacrifices.

Tolni said:

Apparently, the new world will be littered with magic fireballs and blood sacrifices.

Click to expand...

I feel like the only light-hearted and humorous nation among a bunch of power metal tropes.

EDIT: I just read GrandKhan's entry. I stand corrected.

Faction Name: Windgard
Leader Name: Toruviel, Mistress of the Mountain
Leader Background: Politician
Starting Location: Zone 96
Origins: Elves
Traits: Adventurous
Capital Type: Elven Enclave
Background: The Winter Court had been ruled for ten thousand years by Auberon, a powerful mage and patriarch who kept the Unseelie under his tight grip. He forbid contact with the human race and confined the elven race to hidden valleys and woods where his powerful magic kept them concealed.

But Auberon's power was like stone, and though strong, easily shattered. Even his magic and influence could not conceal the elves from mortal eyes forever. Human mages discovered the Unseelie Court and forced it to open to the outside world. Nine mages battled Auberon and bound him with cold iron and silver, intending to use his power for their own purposes. Rather than submit, Auberon cursed the mages with a powerful mortal spell. While he was compelled to grant the mages long lives and great power, he turned them into monsters: Heliophages, beings devoid of light and joy. They would have long lives, but it would be a soulless existence. They would wield great power, but it would be dark and terrible, usable only for evil purposes.

Of course, the Heliophagii's first victims were the elves, who were driven from their homes and into the ongoing apocalypse. Many died, some wished they had. To escape the ravaging beasts, a band of elves fled across the land, into the mountains. Here they were hunted, but here, an elf maiden of great grace and beauty wooed and won the love of a powerful spirit, the Grey King, which drove off the Heliophagii and allowed the Sea Elves to establish a new settlement, Windgard, where they could rebuild their race.

It has been a long time since the elder folk walked the world. To most, they are little more than myths. But the blood that runs in their veins is magic itself, and the paths they tread are those that were carved by their ancesters, when the sun was young and the stars still came to earth.

And perhaps, it was not for the protection of the elves that Auberon kept them apart from humanity.

Ahigin said:

I feel like the only light-hearted and humorous nation among a bunch of power metal tropes.

Click to expand...

Can't help it. Especially me. Too much Blind Guardian.

Mine was meant to be light and fun... None of the Warhammer Expys.

Sub post, post coming soon.

Faction Name: Vinya Falas
Leader Name: Elder Aeluin Egladhrim
Leader Background:
Old even by elven standards, Aeluin has guided the Vinya Falas for a century. As they floated from unseen corner of the world to the other, she watched as man tore itself apart, raping the world with ignorant misuse of the arcane. While she is in her twilight years, she will watch her people are reborn, taking this new world from the men would see it ripped asunder once again.
Starting Location: 119
Leader Background: Mage
Origins: Elves
Faction Traits: Militaristic
Capital Type: Tranquility’s Landing (Elven Enclave)
Background:
The Vinya Falas hid from the eyes of man not in the forests, but on the high seas. A flotilla of ships masked by a web of magic sailed around the edges of the human empires, ever being forced to move as man expanded. They watched as humans destroyed the old world, but this new world would be theirs. The flotilla was beached, disassembled to create the Vinya Falas’ new home of Tranquility’s Landing. Men had stolen the world from them, then sacked and raped it. They will protect this new world from the ever gaping maw of man, and they would do so with fire, with steel, and with blood.

Farewell, Old World

The rain was falling hard, soaking Lord Commander Tristan's white cloak and clinking when hitting his armor. His hands gripped the wooden mast, while the waves were testing the durability of the vessel.

Why on earth did I put on my armor? A stronger wave, and soon he would be at sea, drowning, like the others, Tristan thought. But what if we are attacked? asked Arlas, the squire, a few minutes before. Poor Arlas. Against the mages, armor would not make a difference. Or at least that's what Tristan would tell him, if the waves hadn't already taken the poor lad.

Its was already night, and he could feel in the air that something was about to change. Something worse than just a storm. The rest of the fleet, which only the lamps could be spotted in the dark, seemed increasingly distant. When he walked up the stairs to the upper deck to ask the captain to slow down, the waves suddenly stopped. Something is wrong, said the captain, a tall, clean-shaven man dressed in the golden uniform of the imperial navy. The rest of the crew fell silent, and the world seemed to take a last breath.

And then, horrible screams filled the night of terror and fear, foreshadowing what appeared to be the end. It's too early yelled the captain.

What seemed to be the sound of a terribly giant wave came from the northwest. One by one, the lights were fading in the dark horizon, while the force of the sea pulled his ship towards death. The greatest of all lights, which illuminated what looked like a huge floating castle of wood, burst into flames. And so goes the emperor, probably the last he thought, with a sad smile. In a few moments, the flames were swallowed by darkness. More lights went out: the galley of the prince, the caravel loaded with civilians from the capital, another designed to carry treasures ... In vain, Tristan was looking for a particular ship, which carried the Argantael family with it. His father, his mother and his brothers. They were all there, somewhere. Or they died like the others. He shivered. Probably the mages should be killing each other now, and bringing the world with them. And Tristan didn't intend to be sober enough to witness it all.

He wished good luck to the captain, went down to the lower deck, and headed to his chambers, searching for his flask. While the ship was shaking violently, he laid on his bed, ready for a rest. However, after thinking for a moment, he stood up and began to remove his armor. Not today.

Can i edit my location to Zone 71?

Sub, will join in a few days when I can