In the Plaza of Stone and Silver, beneath the shadow of the Temple of Juiniss? mighty spires, a man is dying.
He had been making his way up the wide, marble steps to the Temple for evening rituals, his ceremonial hammer held aloft in his right hand, and the burnished collection plate in the other, when he was felled. No-one in the crowds, not the City Watch nor the hundreds upon hundreds of valiant worshipers that currently occupied the Plaza saw precisely what struck him, or when it could possibly have come from. What they all saw though, was the High Mason give a pronounced jerk just as his feet were planted between the third and the fourth steps. The man himself hardly seemed to notice at first, and carried on walking at the head of the procession. One? two? and on the third step forward his legs gave way from under him, the hammer slipping from his slackened fingers, to strike against the flagstones below. The guards that flanked him were quick to respond, catching him and lowering him slowly to the ground so as not to hit his head, while the rest form a ring of steel around him; halberds in front, riflemen behind. Beyond that though, there was nothing anyone could do. The High Mason?s convulsions came so violently it took four of his underlings to restrain him. His eyes popped and wept blood, while a high, hideous hiss was all that could escape from his throat as his tongue swelled up to fill it. All that was left was for his fits to slacken, as his skin turned a greyish, mottled blue. His last thought before he slipped away were for the wonders and mysteries of The Endless Vaults, the ethereal realm of Juiniss, where all his worshipers live on, to study the secrets that bind the fabrics of the cosmos for eternity. He did not know then, that his God had no solace for him.
Many in the crowd are stunned, some weeping in terror; others panic and run for their homes. Some even try to rush forward, to see what they can do to help their exalted priest, but the City Watch keeps them back. Somehow, although he makes no particular effort to hide, nobody sees the figure, cloaked and hooded calmly turn and exit the Plaza, down the street between the Central Bank and an upmarket tailor. Had they used the eyes which they were gifted, they might have spotted a most peculiar tattoo on the palm of this citizen?s hand. A face, serene and oblivious, with no defining features at all, or even a discernible gender; but, when the man passed between the two buildings, entering their shadow, the inky flesh did melt and slough away, leaving naught but a skull beneath.
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You, however, witness nothing. The City Watch don?t let your kind within a mile of the Plaza of Stone and Silver, or any of the other plazas for that matter. Those are places for the acceptable and the respected. The beautiful, enterprising and otherwise model citizens to come and marvel at the wonders they perform with the gifts the God?s have bestowed upon them. Your place is huddled in the gutter, or under a bridge, or in the corner of an abandoned and derelict house if you?re lucky. Wherever it may be, it is a place where you are not seen or heard. You offer nothing to your civilisation, and so you are worthy of nothing. This train of thought, or something along similar lines, is meandering aimlessly through your mind in a fruitless effort to distract you from the hunger and the cold, when a cloaked and hooded man with a skull tattooed on the palm of his hand stands before you. Where he came from you cannot say, and all you can do is look up in silent appeal. You are appealing for aid, for a kind word, or simply for the man to go along his way without robbing you of what little you have and leaving you with your throat cut.
?Have faith, child.? He says to you, crouching down so his face is on a level with yours, and producing a parcel from the folds of his cloak. ?The God?s of feasts and temples spurn you, but there is one who would value you still. The Shroud calls to you. Hear it, and know what it is to be feared.?
The figures face is still obscured by shadow, and yet, somehow you know he is smiling. Uncertain, you take the parcel from him, and he is gone. You tear open the brown paper to find enclosed a small heel of bread, a little cheese, and a ripe apple. After wolfing this offering down, all that is left in the parcel is a crude, hand-drawn map that appears to lead you deep into the Labyrinth of the city?s sewers.
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Hey folks! I hope that little (or maybe not so much) introduction caught your attention, ?cause a lore dump is incoming (insert obligatory Brace Yourselves meme).
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Phew! I hope your still with us. (Don?t worry, that?s the heaviest part over. There?s a lot more lore out there, and by ?there? in mean ?in my brain?, but not all of it needs spelling out right now? only some of it.
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Okay, I think that?s the scene appropriately set (of course, feel free to ask any questions you may have about this world, and I?ll answer them as best I can. All that?s left now is to give you guys a character sheet template and a few notes about the RP.
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Welp, that?s everything for now. My Co-GM is the one and only Daystar Clarion, just so?s you know. Feel free to relay any concerns you have to him whenever I?m not available for whatever reason, and we?ll work it out. Enjoy guys! (pretty please)
He had been making his way up the wide, marble steps to the Temple for evening rituals, his ceremonial hammer held aloft in his right hand, and the burnished collection plate in the other, when he was felled. No-one in the crowds, not the City Watch nor the hundreds upon hundreds of valiant worshipers that currently occupied the Plaza saw precisely what struck him, or when it could possibly have come from. What they all saw though, was the High Mason give a pronounced jerk just as his feet were planted between the third and the fourth steps. The man himself hardly seemed to notice at first, and carried on walking at the head of the procession. One? two? and on the third step forward his legs gave way from under him, the hammer slipping from his slackened fingers, to strike against the flagstones below. The guards that flanked him were quick to respond, catching him and lowering him slowly to the ground so as not to hit his head, while the rest form a ring of steel around him; halberds in front, riflemen behind. Beyond that though, there was nothing anyone could do. The High Mason?s convulsions came so violently it took four of his underlings to restrain him. His eyes popped and wept blood, while a high, hideous hiss was all that could escape from his throat as his tongue swelled up to fill it. All that was left was for his fits to slacken, as his skin turned a greyish, mottled blue. His last thought before he slipped away were for the wonders and mysteries of The Endless Vaults, the ethereal realm of Juiniss, where all his worshipers live on, to study the secrets that bind the fabrics of the cosmos for eternity. He did not know then, that his God had no solace for him.
Many in the crowd are stunned, some weeping in terror; others panic and run for their homes. Some even try to rush forward, to see what they can do to help their exalted priest, but the City Watch keeps them back. Somehow, although he makes no particular effort to hide, nobody sees the figure, cloaked and hooded calmly turn and exit the Plaza, down the street between the Central Bank and an upmarket tailor. Had they used the eyes which they were gifted, they might have spotted a most peculiar tattoo on the palm of this citizen?s hand. A face, serene and oblivious, with no defining features at all, or even a discernible gender; but, when the man passed between the two buildings, entering their shadow, the inky flesh did melt and slough away, leaving naught but a skull beneath.
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You, however, witness nothing. The City Watch don?t let your kind within a mile of the Plaza of Stone and Silver, or any of the other plazas for that matter. Those are places for the acceptable and the respected. The beautiful, enterprising and otherwise model citizens to come and marvel at the wonders they perform with the gifts the God?s have bestowed upon them. Your place is huddled in the gutter, or under a bridge, or in the corner of an abandoned and derelict house if you?re lucky. Wherever it may be, it is a place where you are not seen or heard. You offer nothing to your civilisation, and so you are worthy of nothing. This train of thought, or something along similar lines, is meandering aimlessly through your mind in a fruitless effort to distract you from the hunger and the cold, when a cloaked and hooded man with a skull tattooed on the palm of his hand stands before you. Where he came from you cannot say, and all you can do is look up in silent appeal. You are appealing for aid, for a kind word, or simply for the man to go along his way without robbing you of what little you have and leaving you with your throat cut.
?Have faith, child.? He says to you, crouching down so his face is on a level with yours, and producing a parcel from the folds of his cloak. ?The God?s of feasts and temples spurn you, but there is one who would value you still. The Shroud calls to you. Hear it, and know what it is to be feared.?
The figures face is still obscured by shadow, and yet, somehow you know he is smiling. Uncertain, you take the parcel from him, and he is gone. You tear open the brown paper to find enclosed a small heel of bread, a little cheese, and a ripe apple. After wolfing this offering down, all that is left in the parcel is a crude, hand-drawn map that appears to lead you deep into the Labyrinth of the city?s sewers.
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Hey folks! I hope that little (or maybe not so much) introduction caught your attention, ?cause a lore dump is incoming (insert obligatory Brace Yourselves meme).
You really can?t understand the world of Faldus (much less the Children of The Shroud) without first understanding its religious mythology. Here we have a society who?s worship of a pantheon of God?s is integral to the governance of everyone?s day to day lives.
?In the beginning, the cosmos burned. There existed no distinction between the heavens and the earth, only chaos and anarchy as the unrestricted forces of pure energy exploded out into all spaces. Such power there was, but without any focal point to bind this potential for creation, there could be no life.
At the summit of this whirling maelstrom was born a consciousness known as Dus. Dus is not classed as a deity by the Chantry of Seldus, for only immortal beings that can directly influence Faldus gain that distinction. According to the Chantry, Dus was destroyed at the Dawn of Time, and no evidence of his influence on mortals has ever been observed. As a result, the few who worship Dus in defiance of the Chantry are pariahs. Regardless, what is agreed upon is that it was Dus who first harnessed the energies of the cosmos. From these he made both the physical elements and the arcane forces, with planes of existence for the management of both; Faldus (the physical and mortal realm), and Seldus (the immortal, ethereal realm). This event is known as the Dawn of Time.
According to the Chantry, while he had the power to create these realms, as one entity Dus was unable to maintain them. So, at the culmination of the Dawn of Time, Dus was ripped apart, and from his fragments were born the God?s, each with their own spheres of influence that they focus on exclusively, as well as a corresponding realm on Seldus in which they reside. These God?s require no physical form, though they can take any they choose. Each God has his own temples, his own priests, and his own sect of followers. However, the heads of all temples meet in the Chantry of Seldus, where affairs that involve or affect all the spheres of influence are debated and decided.?
?Those six deities are the Pantheon as decreed by the Chantry. However, there is one more; and it is his legend that you will come to know better than all the others. To worship him is punishable by torture and death, and so toxic is the Chantry?s fear of him, that it is forbidden to even so much as speak any of his names and titles. His name is Mylaviss (Mee-la-viss), The Lost God, Prince of the Shroud, Lord of Shadows, Reaper of Souls, Father of the Unloved, Harbinger of Terror, Revulsion and All Filth. Call him what you will. In truth, Mylaviss cares little for worship and ceremony. Even in the time before the Chantry no great Temples or monuments were erected in his name. His Temple has always been the dark, lonely places, where respectable souls dare not tread. His altar is pain, his congregation fear, and his sermon is the death rattle of those sent to The Shroud in his name.
How Mylaviss came to be is a subject of (hushed) debate. He bares all the hallmarks of being a fragment of Dus, just like all the God?s of the Pantheon. Many say, however, that he is not their kin. Born out of the Dawn of Time he may have been, but he is not a fragment of Dus. Followers of such a theory (usually in an effort to deride and discredit him), refer to him as a remainder, a waste product if you will. That is one theory. Another is that he is a demi-God, the result of one of the Pantheon (most would think Zapatos) mating with one of the first mortals. As far as anyone knows, Mylaviss has never cared to elaborate on his history. What we know is this. Mylaviss is an immortal entity that has existed since long before recorded history, and most certainly wields the power of a deity. He differs from the Pantheon though, in that he has no natural and clearly defined sphere of influence. He is rouge, fundamentally lacking in divine purpose. If you like, you could call him the Black Sheep of the Family, for we certainly think it amuses Mylaviss to think of himself as such. For a God, this lack of purpose is equivalent to the absolute most repulsive degeneracy, and for his crime he has always been hated and shunned by the other God?s.
Mylaviss may not have been gifted a realm or a purpose, but we can observe that it was within his power to acquire both for himself. He created his own realm, beyond both Faldus and Seldus, that we call The Shroud.
Ever since mortals first walked Faldus, there have always been those among us who found that we were worth nothing to all the other Gods. There have always been the marginalised, the disaffected, the abused, and the lost. As stated earlier, Mylaviss does not crave worship as the others do, however that does not mean he has no use for mortals. Where other Gods see only filth and useless meat, Mylaviss has always seen potential, greatness even. We are like vermin, scurrying around in the dark beneath the feet of better men. As such, we are seldom seen or heard, and even when we are, we are often wilfully ignored by those who consider us unworthy of even their contempt. Those qualities are of great use to the machinations of Mylaviss.
Those who are chosen by Mylaviss, who pass his trials and accept his contract, call ourselves the Children of The Shroud. The contract is simple enough in theory. Mylaviss can offer you great power. In return, you are bound to him in both life and death. In life, you are an assassin, and once branded with his mark, every mortal you kill will find their soul trapped in The Shroud, as will you, when the time comes for you to pass on. What Mylaviss gains from harvesting the mortal dead, stealing their souls from the other Gods who claim them, even we are not certain. It may be that he devours them for sustenance, or keeps them in bondage to serve his every whim. Perhaps he just does it to spite his immortal kin who spurned him. Few have ever had the opportunity to ask.?
?In the beginning, the cosmos burned. There existed no distinction between the heavens and the earth, only chaos and anarchy as the unrestricted forces of pure energy exploded out into all spaces. Such power there was, but without any focal point to bind this potential for creation, there could be no life.
At the summit of this whirling maelstrom was born a consciousness known as Dus. Dus is not classed as a deity by the Chantry of Seldus, for only immortal beings that can directly influence Faldus gain that distinction. According to the Chantry, Dus was destroyed at the Dawn of Time, and no evidence of his influence on mortals has ever been observed. As a result, the few who worship Dus in defiance of the Chantry are pariahs. Regardless, what is agreed upon is that it was Dus who first harnessed the energies of the cosmos. From these he made both the physical elements and the arcane forces, with planes of existence for the management of both; Faldus (the physical and mortal realm), and Seldus (the immortal, ethereal realm). This event is known as the Dawn of Time.
According to the Chantry, while he had the power to create these realms, as one entity Dus was unable to maintain them. So, at the culmination of the Dawn of Time, Dus was ripped apart, and from his fragments were born the God?s, each with their own spheres of influence that they focus on exclusively, as well as a corresponding realm on Seldus in which they reside. These God?s require no physical form, though they can take any they choose. Each God has his own temples, his own priests, and his own sect of followers. However, the heads of all temples meet in the Chantry of Seldus, where affairs that involve or affect all the spheres of influence are debated and decided.?
Juiniss - (Joo-in-iss): Is the deity of knowledge, industry and commerce. He is patron to scholars, masons and merchants alike, and is represented by a hammer, with an all-seeing eye at its centre. It was Juiniss who taught his chosen among the first mortals the knowledge of construction, and harnessing the powers of the arcane for the purposes of said construction. His immortal realm in known as The Endless Vaults, which is described as being a seemingly infinite and architecturally impossible library, where all the knowledge of space and time is hoarded. When a devout follower of Juiniss dies, he is supposed to ascend to The Endless Vaults, where he may indulge in this knowledge for eternity. As civilisation would be impossible without the gifts of Juiniss, he is revered particularly highly of all the God?s.
Being as they are made up of skilled masons, with wealthy merchants to back them, the Temples of Juiniss are often the largest and grandest of all the temples, the main temple rivalling the Citadel of the Chantry itself. Each temple has five spires, representing the five digits of a hand, for it is the hand that grasps the hammer. It is in these temples that the priests of Juiniss meet, led by a High Mason, a High Merchant, and a High Scholar. These three heads of the temple, whoever they may be, almost always claim to trace their lineage back to one of the first of Juiniss? chosen. These men are not priests full-time, and are still powerful in their respective fields. As a result, they guard the secrets of the temples jealously, so as to maintain the monopoly of industry, trade and education between themselves and their allies.
Juiniss may be a well-loved God, but he is also one of the hardest of them. He exists to build great things, and to solve the mysteries of the universe that vex mortals. He has no time for matters of compassion or charity. For him, those who fall behind should be left behind for the good of all, and his followers are often the first to sneer at the disaffected of society, dismissing their hardships as the result of stupidity and idleness.
Being as they are made up of skilled masons, with wealthy merchants to back them, the Temples of Juiniss are often the largest and grandest of all the temples, the main temple rivalling the Citadel of the Chantry itself. Each temple has five spires, representing the five digits of a hand, for it is the hand that grasps the hammer. It is in these temples that the priests of Juiniss meet, led by a High Mason, a High Merchant, and a High Scholar. These three heads of the temple, whoever they may be, almost always claim to trace their lineage back to one of the first of Juiniss? chosen. These men are not priests full-time, and are still powerful in their respective fields. As a result, they guard the secrets of the temples jealously, so as to maintain the monopoly of industry, trade and education between themselves and their allies.
Juiniss may be a well-loved God, but he is also one of the hardest of them. He exists to build great things, and to solve the mysteries of the universe that vex mortals. He has no time for matters of compassion or charity. For him, those who fall behind should be left behind for the good of all, and his followers are often the first to sneer at the disaffected of society, dismissing their hardships as the result of stupidity and idleness.
Northos ? (Nor-thos): Is the deity of valour, strength and ambition. He is often, colloquially, referred to as the God of War, as his spheres of influence naturally attract those who value martial prowess. However, he is never officially referred to as such. Northos is most commonly represented by a humanoid form, only with the head of a lion and wings of an eagle. He is also normally shown clasping a spear. Back when the first mortals still knew no better than to bash each-other over the head with rocks to resolve disagreements, Northos took it upon himself to teach those he determined to be most worthy the martial arts, giving them the ability to master both their own strength, and to teach others discipline, the foundation of armies. As usual for a God, worship, and eternal service in the afterlife was his price. He also, later in time, assisted some of his more radical followers in stealing forbidden knowledge from the Temple of Juiniss, which led to the development of firearms and artillery (and also caused a historic rift between the two sects). Northos? realm is known as the Palace of Swords, described as an enormous hall, where the honoured dead can feast, fight, and share battle stories forevermore.
Not as visually impressive or comfortable as the temples of other sects, the Temples of Northos are however the most fortified. Nothing would be quite so shameful for a devout follower of Northos than to have allowed an opposing army to sack one of his holy sanctums, and so the defences of the temples are often just as, if not more formidable, than the cities they reside in. Northos? sect is not quite so hierarchical as some others. Any common foot-soldier can (in theory) ascend to be a High Priest, provided they have performed a deed so brave and valiant as to be considered worthy of his favour. In that way, Northos might seem kinder than his more exalted brother. However, the life of a devout follower of Northos is one of constant pain and hardship in pursuit of glory, and their God despises weakness and cowardice. A true servant of Northos should give no quarter and expect none, take no prisoners and die screaming before allowing themselves to be captured. Those who ever once shamed themselves though capture or retreat are refused entry to the Palace of Swords. Their souls then must wander the killing fields beyond, slaughtering the other unworthy vermin, until they are either extinguished forever, or have been judged worthy of forgiveness.
Not as visually impressive or comfortable as the temples of other sects, the Temples of Northos are however the most fortified. Nothing would be quite so shameful for a devout follower of Northos than to have allowed an opposing army to sack one of his holy sanctums, and so the defences of the temples are often just as, if not more formidable, than the cities they reside in. Northos? sect is not quite so hierarchical as some others. Any common foot-soldier can (in theory) ascend to be a High Priest, provided they have performed a deed so brave and valiant as to be considered worthy of his favour. In that way, Northos might seem kinder than his more exalted brother. However, the life of a devout follower of Northos is one of constant pain and hardship in pursuit of glory, and their God despises weakness and cowardice. A true servant of Northos should give no quarter and expect none, take no prisoners and die screaming before allowing themselves to be captured. Those who ever once shamed themselves though capture or retreat are refused entry to the Palace of Swords. Their souls then must wander the killing fields beyond, slaughtering the other unworthy vermin, until they are either extinguished forever, or have been judged worthy of forgiveness.
Denissa ? (Den-is-sa): Is the deity of the sea and the air. While only frequently prayed to by sailors, who of course rely of her good graces for their very survival, Denissa is paid close attention to by many citizens, particularly those living in port cities and coastal towns, where vast sums of money will be spent of building lavish shrines to her. Out of all the deities, even mighty Northos, it is Denissa who commands the greatest potential for destruction. It is fortunate then, for the denizens of Faldus, that in all accounts Denissa is reported to have a mild temper. The most common image of Denissa shows her in a feminine form with two heads, one windblown and wild, the other bedraggled and scaly in texture. Unlike the other God?s recognised by the Chantry, no temples are even built for Denissa. It would be ill-fitting for a deity of her spheres of influence to have her shrines cooped in inside, warm and dry. Rather, the priests of Denissa build massive statues in her honour, which are often placed out at the end of sea-walls, bulwarks, or else on islands off the coast. It is at these monuments where sailors wishing for safe travels leave offerings to Denissa. Her realm is the Basalt Tower, a seemingly summit-less lighthouse of black, geometric stone that lances out of a vast ocean. From the Basalt Tower, the spirits of seamen who earned Denissa?s favour in life, can use her magic to guide their still-living brethren through stormy seas? or trick them into rocks if they so desire.
In comparison to some other sects, the followers of Denissa are rather clean of corruption or cruelty. They are not, however, entirely innocent. Woe betide the sailor who tries to ply his trade without registering with the High Priests, who demand steep cuts of the humble whalers and trawlermen?s already meagre profits.
In comparison to some other sects, the followers of Denissa are rather clean of corruption or cruelty. They are not, however, entirely innocent. Woe betide the sailor who tries to ply his trade without registering with the High Priests, who demand steep cuts of the humble whalers and trawlermen?s already meagre profits.
Maeverniss ? (May-vern-iss): Is the deity of justice and fate. She has possibly the broadest appeal of all the God?s. Every soul in Faldus will pray to Maeverniss at some point in their lives, to be found innocent of a crime they didn?t commit, to bring justice down upon someone who did, or even to get away with a crime they are guilty of (for a deity of justice, the whims of Meaverniss can be mischievous). However, very few will ever actually dedicate their lives to her. The Temples of Maeverniss serve as courthouses (with the catacombs beneath them serving as gaols), and the Priests and High Priests are barristers, magistrates and judges. So-called ?generous donations? to the Temples, so that their good works may continue, have often been known to buy clemency for even the most heinous of crimes, all with Her Lady?s approval of course.
Maeverniss is typically represented as a Harpy, with an olive branch clutched in one set of talons, and a coiled noose in the other. In the realm of Maeverniss resides the Hall of Sin, where those sentenced to death in her name are kept, incarcerated, until Maeverniss sees fit to release them, either to another Ethereal Realm, back to Faldus through reincarnation, or to the void. There are, however, earlier accounts that tell a different story of the Hall of Sin. They speak of a harem of perversion, where Maeverniss indulges the darkest desires of her guests. These slanderous heresies are forcefully repressed by both the Sect of Maeverniss and the Chantry of Seldus alike.
Maeverniss is typically represented as a Harpy, with an olive branch clutched in one set of talons, and a coiled noose in the other. In the realm of Maeverniss resides the Hall of Sin, where those sentenced to death in her name are kept, incarcerated, until Maeverniss sees fit to release them, either to another Ethereal Realm, back to Faldus through reincarnation, or to the void. There are, however, earlier accounts that tell a different story of the Hall of Sin. They speak of a harem of perversion, where Maeverniss indulges the darkest desires of her guests. These slanderous heresies are forcefully repressed by both the Sect of Maeverniss and the Chantry of Seldus alike.
Zapatos ? (Za-pa-tos): Is the deity of joy, agriculture and indulgence. He has a very diverse following; a favourite of lowly farmers, who pray to him for good harvests, as well as soldier?s families, who pray to him for harmony and reconciliation in times of war. However, the most lavish celebrations of Zapatos? gifts are thrown by, well, anyone with the money who wants a party with every vice a man can enjoy. It is written that Zapatos was one of the first deities ever to come to the aid of the early mortals. He taught them how to make use of rich soils, as well as what fruits and berries that grew in the wild lands were safe for them to eat. For a God, Zapatos doesn?t ask for much, only that mortals spend what little time they have in their flesh enjoying and seeking out new vices. Ironically, nothing is sacred. In the eyes of Zapatos there are no perversions, only pleasures, and his temples double as the most upmarket brothels in any city, where any and all appetites can be sated (for a price). This hedonistic reputation has brought the sect of Zapatos into conflict with those of Juiniss and Maeverniss many a time in history (although many of the sects highest-paying clients have also been known to come from the same places).
The traditional image of Zapatos is of an enormously fat, naked figure with six arms and no legs. He is always pictured laughing. The realm Zapatos inhabits is known as the Bountiful Vale, where those who in life have most amused him can celebrate with an eternity of gluttony, fornication and whatever other consumptions they most desire.
The traditional image of Zapatos is of an enormously fat, naked figure with six arms and no legs. He is always pictured laughing. The realm Zapatos inhabits is known as the Bountiful Vale, where those who in life have most amused him can celebrate with an eternity of gluttony, fornication and whatever other consumptions they most desire.
Gilliajlia ?(Jil-ly-age-lia): Is the deity of beauty and fertility. Her patrons are, as you would expect, young lovers, betrothed couples, newlyweds and mothers. The Temples of Gilliajlia are where all weddings on Faldus take place; and her Priests are all trained in midwifery. Traditionally represented as a beautiful woman, naked apart from a veil of rose petals, Gilliajlia resides in the realm of the Ever-Garden, where the beautiful ones of Faldus will know only sweet delights in death.
It all sounds rather too good to be true, doesn?t it? You be right, for in is in the sect of Gilliajlia that some of the most horrific abuses of power are practiced. According to the teachings of the Temple, The dirty, the ugly and the unloved are, far from worthy of care and charity, considered sub-human; little more than vermin and unworthy to live. Mobs of her followers, egged on by the Priests, will go on purges through the poor and decaying districts of cities, flushing the wretches form the holes they hide in, rounding them up, before publically and brutally sacrificing them to Gilliaglia, usually through burning. If a baby born at the Temple comes out deformed, the baby is drowned, while the mother is forced to watch, bearing witness to her failure. If a husband leaves his wife for a woman younger and more beautiful, the wife again is judged to have failed in her duties; and for her punishment is stripped off all her property and possessions by the Temple, before being cast out into the streets to die. So zealous the Beautiful People have become, even the massive power bases behinf the Temples of Juiniss and Northos struggle to control them, and Gilliajlia, Goddess of beautiful things, has become one of the most feared names to the abandoned and disaffected of Faldus.
It all sounds rather too good to be true, doesn?t it? You be right, for in is in the sect of Gilliajlia that some of the most horrific abuses of power are practiced. According to the teachings of the Temple, The dirty, the ugly and the unloved are, far from worthy of care and charity, considered sub-human; little more than vermin and unworthy to live. Mobs of her followers, egged on by the Priests, will go on purges through the poor and decaying districts of cities, flushing the wretches form the holes they hide in, rounding them up, before publically and brutally sacrificing them to Gilliaglia, usually through burning. If a baby born at the Temple comes out deformed, the baby is drowned, while the mother is forced to watch, bearing witness to her failure. If a husband leaves his wife for a woman younger and more beautiful, the wife again is judged to have failed in her duties; and for her punishment is stripped off all her property and possessions by the Temple, before being cast out into the streets to die. So zealous the Beautiful People have become, even the massive power bases behinf the Temples of Juiniss and Northos struggle to control them, and Gilliajlia, Goddess of beautiful things, has become one of the most feared names to the abandoned and disaffected of Faldus.
?Those six deities are the Pantheon as decreed by the Chantry. However, there is one more; and it is his legend that you will come to know better than all the others. To worship him is punishable by torture and death, and so toxic is the Chantry?s fear of him, that it is forbidden to even so much as speak any of his names and titles. His name is Mylaviss (Mee-la-viss), The Lost God, Prince of the Shroud, Lord of Shadows, Reaper of Souls, Father of the Unloved, Harbinger of Terror, Revulsion and All Filth. Call him what you will. In truth, Mylaviss cares little for worship and ceremony. Even in the time before the Chantry no great Temples or monuments were erected in his name. His Temple has always been the dark, lonely places, where respectable souls dare not tread. His altar is pain, his congregation fear, and his sermon is the death rattle of those sent to The Shroud in his name.
How Mylaviss came to be is a subject of (hushed) debate. He bares all the hallmarks of being a fragment of Dus, just like all the God?s of the Pantheon. Many say, however, that he is not their kin. Born out of the Dawn of Time he may have been, but he is not a fragment of Dus. Followers of such a theory (usually in an effort to deride and discredit him), refer to him as a remainder, a waste product if you will. That is one theory. Another is that he is a demi-God, the result of one of the Pantheon (most would think Zapatos) mating with one of the first mortals. As far as anyone knows, Mylaviss has never cared to elaborate on his history. What we know is this. Mylaviss is an immortal entity that has existed since long before recorded history, and most certainly wields the power of a deity. He differs from the Pantheon though, in that he has no natural and clearly defined sphere of influence. He is rouge, fundamentally lacking in divine purpose. If you like, you could call him the Black Sheep of the Family, for we certainly think it amuses Mylaviss to think of himself as such. For a God, this lack of purpose is equivalent to the absolute most repulsive degeneracy, and for his crime he has always been hated and shunned by the other God?s.
Mylaviss may not have been gifted a realm or a purpose, but we can observe that it was within his power to acquire both for himself. He created his own realm, beyond both Faldus and Seldus, that we call The Shroud.
Ever since mortals first walked Faldus, there have always been those among us who found that we were worth nothing to all the other Gods. There have always been the marginalised, the disaffected, the abused, and the lost. As stated earlier, Mylaviss does not crave worship as the others do, however that does not mean he has no use for mortals. Where other Gods see only filth and useless meat, Mylaviss has always seen potential, greatness even. We are like vermin, scurrying around in the dark beneath the feet of better men. As such, we are seldom seen or heard, and even when we are, we are often wilfully ignored by those who consider us unworthy of even their contempt. Those qualities are of great use to the machinations of Mylaviss.
Those who are chosen by Mylaviss, who pass his trials and accept his contract, call ourselves the Children of The Shroud. The contract is simple enough in theory. Mylaviss can offer you great power. In return, you are bound to him in both life and death. In life, you are an assassin, and once branded with his mark, every mortal you kill will find their soul trapped in The Shroud, as will you, when the time comes for you to pass on. What Mylaviss gains from harvesting the mortal dead, stealing their souls from the other Gods who claim them, even we are not certain. It may be that he devours them for sustenance, or keeps them in bondage to serve his every whim. Perhaps he just does it to spite his immortal kin who spurned him. Few have ever had the opportunity to ask.?
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Phew! I hope your still with us. (Don?t worry, that?s the heaviest part over. There?s a lot more lore out there, and by ?there? in mean ?in my brain?, but not all of it needs spelling out right now? only some of it.
?Our story begins in Kragenau, capital of the Central Union of the Faith, and the largest city in the known world. A port city built on a peninsula, whose incomes have always been heavily weighted on trade and manufacturing, protected by a strong Navy, Kragenau is also host to perhaps the most significant landmark on the mortal plane. The Citadel of the Chantry resides at the heart of the city. The tallest building ever made by man, the Citadel is the one place in all Faldus where all the different sects of the faith meet and speak in one voice.
Beyond the Citadel each and every sect (with the exception of Denissa?s) has a Grand Temple in the city, each residing in a separate district where the sects hold their power-base. The Temple of Juiniss dominates the Factory Discrict, near the docks. The Dock?s themselves belong to Denissa, who?s visage rises out of the Isle of Blessings roughly two miles offshore. She acts as both a shrine and a lighthouse to guide vessels safely into port. Beyond the docks is the Lower Town, where the Temple of Zapatos stands ready to entertain all visitors two the city. The Temple of Northos resides inside Kragenau?s fearsome Arsenal, high on the Eastern Hill. On the lower slopes, in Mid-Town, you will find the Temple of Maeverniss among the city?s main commercial district (there is strong support for Juiniss here too). Finally, the Temple of Gilliajlia dominates the Upper-Town, where the most wealthy and respected citizens have residence. There is one last district left unmentioned. A large portion of what was previously included in the Docks and Industrial District, has been left derelict thanks to general economic decline and a particularly nasty storm-surge. The Drowned District is walled off from the rest of the city, to try and prevent the spread of disease and dangerous, mutated vermin that have overrun the flooded area. Many of you will start off in the Drowned District. It is a dangerous place for anyone to be, but in its own way it has its perks. No-one ever bothers you there. Finally, Kragenau is a city that was sacked and rebuilt many times during its early history. Beneath its most recent façade, miles upon miles of ruins and catacombs are hidden underground, and they themselves hide many secrets long since forgotten.
While still a force to be reckoned with, Kragenau is a city in decline, its supremacy under threat from growing, ambitious nations. In response to the tense political environment, the sects squabble even more over power, each thinking they have the best solution to reverse the cities woes, and tensions inside the city walls are running just as high as those beyond.
Beyond the Citadel each and every sect (with the exception of Denissa?s) has a Grand Temple in the city, each residing in a separate district where the sects hold their power-base. The Temple of Juiniss dominates the Factory Discrict, near the docks. The Dock?s themselves belong to Denissa, who?s visage rises out of the Isle of Blessings roughly two miles offshore. She acts as both a shrine and a lighthouse to guide vessels safely into port. Beyond the docks is the Lower Town, where the Temple of Zapatos stands ready to entertain all visitors two the city. The Temple of Northos resides inside Kragenau?s fearsome Arsenal, high on the Eastern Hill. On the lower slopes, in Mid-Town, you will find the Temple of Maeverniss among the city?s main commercial district (there is strong support for Juiniss here too). Finally, the Temple of Gilliajlia dominates the Upper-Town, where the most wealthy and respected citizens have residence. There is one last district left unmentioned. A large portion of what was previously included in the Docks and Industrial District, has been left derelict thanks to general economic decline and a particularly nasty storm-surge. The Drowned District is walled off from the rest of the city, to try and prevent the spread of disease and dangerous, mutated vermin that have overrun the flooded area. Many of you will start off in the Drowned District. It is a dangerous place for anyone to be, but in its own way it has its perks. No-one ever bothers you there. Finally, Kragenau is a city that was sacked and rebuilt many times during its early history. Beneath its most recent façade, miles upon miles of ruins and catacombs are hidden underground, and they themselves hide many secrets long since forgotten.
While still a force to be reckoned with, Kragenau is a city in decline, its supremacy under threat from growing, ambitious nations. In response to the tense political environment, the sects squabble even more over power, each thinking they have the best solution to reverse the cities woes, and tensions inside the city walls are running just as high as those beyond.
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Okay, I think that?s the scene appropriately set (of course, feel free to ask any questions you may have about this world, and I?ll answer them as best I can. All that?s left now is to give you guys a character sheet template and a few notes about the RP.
Name:
Age: (I?m looking mostly for Young Adult characters, in the context of this society anyway. Between the ages of 12 and 24 would be ideal, although I?m prepared to accept outliers.)
Gender: (I want a good spread of male/female here.)
Appearance: (Be as detailed as possible, talk about your characters clothes and distinguishing mannerisms, as well as just how tall they are and their basic facial features; AND, when you are describing their face, I want to see some commitment. I?m trying to create a style that is very striking to the imagination. Your characters start this story destitute and likely starving. They?re not gonna be looking their best, and I want you to make the most of that.)
History: (Again, detail is crucial. It?s good for you as well as me, the more effort you put into this now, the more consistent and realistic your character is likely to stay later on. Also, again, think about where you start in this RP when you?re talking about background. I don?t want and I won?t accept any unstoppable badasses. I want characters who can take care of themselves yes, but not implausibly so. You?ve got a long way up the ladder to travel, and I want to see vulnerability before you reach the top.
Personality: (See above)
Skills: (Again, see above. I won?t completely ban some level of skill in hand-to hand or firearms. You could be a de-mobbed soldier who?s fallen on hard times for example, and it?s only natural for people in desperate situations to develop some know how in getting around/out of trouble. However, I am going to keep the leash short, so nobody is starting on a level that puts them too far ahead of anyone else. As for magic, that?s a no for now. Magic exists and is integral to this universe, but your acquisition of magical abilities is going to be crucial to your progression here, and I want everyone to start from a clean slate.)
Age: (I?m looking mostly for Young Adult characters, in the context of this society anyway. Between the ages of 12 and 24 would be ideal, although I?m prepared to accept outliers.)
Gender: (I want a good spread of male/female here.)
Appearance: (Be as detailed as possible, talk about your characters clothes and distinguishing mannerisms, as well as just how tall they are and their basic facial features; AND, when you are describing their face, I want to see some commitment. I?m trying to create a style that is very striking to the imagination. Your characters start this story destitute and likely starving. They?re not gonna be looking their best, and I want you to make the most of that.)
History: (Again, detail is crucial. It?s good for you as well as me, the more effort you put into this now, the more consistent and realistic your character is likely to stay later on. Also, again, think about where you start in this RP when you?re talking about background. I don?t want and I won?t accept any unstoppable badasses. I want characters who can take care of themselves yes, but not implausibly so. You?ve got a long way up the ladder to travel, and I want to see vulnerability before you reach the top.
Personality: (See above)
Skills: (Again, see above. I won?t completely ban some level of skill in hand-to hand or firearms. You could be a de-mobbed soldier who?s fallen on hard times for example, and it?s only natural for people in desperate situations to develop some know how in getting around/out of trouble. However, I am going to keep the leash short, so nobody is starting on a level that puts them too far ahead of anyone else. As for magic, that?s a no for now. Magic exists and is integral to this universe, but your acquisition of magical abilities is going to be crucial to your progression here, and I want everyone to start from a clean slate.)
? If you?re struggling for a reference point as to the aesthetic and mood for this setting, the city of Dunwall from Dishonored is a very good place to start.
- Plot armour for player characters extends only so far. Think about that before taking stupid risks. As an aside to this, I consider it my privilege to kill off the characters of anyone who I feel is disrupting the RP and/or being disrespectful to any other players.
- I feel like I?m always saying this in these things, but it?s worth repeating? I understand completely that we all have lives outside of this sub-forum that have to take precedence over what is, after all, a game. I have my fair share myself. I?m not going to hold it against you if stuff comes up that affects your ability to participate either temporarily or permanently. What I must insist on, however, is COMMUNICATION. If you?re going dark for a bit, TELL ME FIRST. If you need to drop out, TELL ME FIRST. If anything at all happens that you think I would really find it useful to know about, TELL ME. The one thing I will lose my shit for is people who go dark for indeterminate lengths of time without so much as a by-your-leave. Unless you?re prepared to do at least that much for me, DON?T BOTHER POSTING A SHEET. I will be setting up a Skype chat for this RP if we get enough good sheets to get it off the ground, and I would ask that everybody join it. It?s really not that hard and it?s so useful for keeping everybody in touch with each-other instantaneously. Exceptions can possibly me made if I really like your sheet and you have a good reason for not being on Skype though.
- I'd like there to be a standardised key in this RP when it comes to posting. A key which will be as follows...
"Speech must always be represented by quotation marks."
"Repeating another players speech must be shown in bold, with quotation marks still present."
'Internal monologue must be shown through italics, with single inverted commas.'
Italics can also be used to add emphasis to words, but if so used must drop the inverted commas so other players can make the distinction.
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Flashbacks, dream-sequences and other hallucinations must be in italics, with a line of minus symbols and clear line spaces either side separating them from the present tense.
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If you control more than one character and wish to post for both in one go, then you must separate your posts with a line of equals symbols with clear line spaces either side.
- Plot armour for player characters extends only so far. Think about that before taking stupid risks. As an aside to this, I consider it my privilege to kill off the characters of anyone who I feel is disrupting the RP and/or being disrespectful to any other players.
- I feel like I?m always saying this in these things, but it?s worth repeating? I understand completely that we all have lives outside of this sub-forum that have to take precedence over what is, after all, a game. I have my fair share myself. I?m not going to hold it against you if stuff comes up that affects your ability to participate either temporarily or permanently. What I must insist on, however, is COMMUNICATION. If you?re going dark for a bit, TELL ME FIRST. If you need to drop out, TELL ME FIRST. If anything at all happens that you think I would really find it useful to know about, TELL ME. The one thing I will lose my shit for is people who go dark for indeterminate lengths of time without so much as a by-your-leave. Unless you?re prepared to do at least that much for me, DON?T BOTHER POSTING A SHEET. I will be setting up a Skype chat for this RP if we get enough good sheets to get it off the ground, and I would ask that everybody join it. It?s really not that hard and it?s so useful for keeping everybody in touch with each-other instantaneously. Exceptions can possibly me made if I really like your sheet and you have a good reason for not being on Skype though.
- I'd like there to be a standardised key in this RP when it comes to posting. A key which will be as follows...
"Speech must always be represented by quotation marks."
"Repeating another players speech must be shown in bold, with quotation marks still present."
'Internal monologue must be shown through italics, with single inverted commas.'
Italics can also be used to add emphasis to words, but if so used must drop the inverted commas so other players can make the distinction.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flashbacks, dream-sequences and other hallucinations must be in italics, with a line of minus symbols and clear line spaces either side separating them from the present tense.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
===============================================================================================
If you control more than one character and wish to post for both in one go, then you must separate your posts with a line of equals symbols with clear line spaces either side.
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Welp, that?s everything for now. My Co-GM is the one and only Daystar Clarion, just so?s you know. Feel free to relay any concerns you have to him whenever I?m not available for whatever reason, and we?ll work it out. Enjoy guys! (pretty please)
