A Tale of Iron RP Background (wip)

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A Tale of Iron RP Background (wip)

Post by Cthulhu on Sun Mar 18, 2018 2:41 pm

The world is filled with stories and fables , songs of fire , epics of stone , and sagas of steel , yet perhaps none as intriguing as A Tale of Iron. Iron that strange base metal , not as heavy as lead , without the shine of gold or the gleam of stainless steel. Yet it is said in the lands of Styricum an Iron blade is as valuable as a crown of jewels , for it cuts through the shapeless wraiths of the northerners like butter. It has sat in the hand of undead kings , been payed as the price for the great crusades of the south lands. Yet to truly tell the tale of iron , one must tell the tale...of the world.

     It was a millenia and three centuries ago when the Spartoai, the common ancestors of the mannish kingdoms of the south arrived in Styricum in their triremes , sails as bright as the rainbow and bearing devices that the natives had never seen. They were refugees , fugitives almost , fleeing the great catastrophe that had befallen their homeland to the far south past the Ocean of Neptune. They were farmers , scholars , wizards , nobles , as well as men of the uncouth sort , thieves , killers , raiders and the sort. Knowing they would not survive to settle in this strange land, and so crowned their first king Alexius the First , under his noble leader ship the Spartoai flourished in land they thought for a while uninhabited, founding their great city of World's End on the southernmost type of Styricum , and so the origin of the mannish kingdoms was lain.

     Yet far to the North of Stryicum , past the Crowfoot mountains , straddling the snowy black coast lay another far older realm of men , the Styrica's a breed of men with dark eyes and dark hair , tall , dour , yet noble were united under the Kingdom of Ferund. For centuries before the Spartoai even set sail from their ancient home the Styricum had lived and died as men. Yet now they lay trapped in a murderous conflict , a scourge from across the deadly northern seas, the Khaz Khulan. Spirit wraiths bound to no physical forms , invincible to weapons of steel , sprang on the entirety of the north like a lightning bolt. Their dark magics , screaming war chariots and deadly cunning laying waste to the north and stealing the priceless treasures of many a realm that now lay ruined. And as they began to crush the might of the noble kingdom of Ferund from the south the Spartoai intervened  ,now established in the south west bay of Styricum. Yet they did not send forth their armies , or aid the Ferund with weapons and food. No , the sorcerer prince Balieoth knew there was only one way to defeat the ruthless monster spirits of the north , upon the land of Fendor he put an eldritch curse , fueled by gallons of blood , and so cursed that any who died in this land would rise up as undead.

    Held by the sway of this spell the dead of Ferund (including their legendary king Ulfast ) rose from the dead and fearing not for their lives sprang on the wicked wraiths of the Northern tundras , sending them fleeing back across the sea lest they be cut down by iron blades , their only true weakness. Soon though many of the Styrica began to fall victim , for it seemed this spell once seen as a blessing that gave them back their kingdom was a curse after all. Man and women and even child began to fall to madness , their minds rotting to naught without any magic to preserve their brains. And so it was that the kingdom of fendor , once noble and mighty became the Kingdom of the Undead , a fell land where few enter and return alive , and only the few undead still sound of mind left to keep watch over their once mighty lands. And to the south the realm of the Spartoai flourished and grew rich , never feeling the true suffering of those northerners they sacrificed. For the Styrica had been polytheists as were most inhabitants of this land and the Spartoai believe in only one great deity , the Snake of the Sun , and tensions between them were ever high in the early days. Now the few sane undead sit alone in their gloomy manors , philosophizing , reading their great scrolls and tomes , comitting themselves to art and scholarship and taking care of their sacred sites. Relics of a past age lost to memory for all but them.

  And so the world is protected , barred from the savage conquerors of the North who sit idle in their cities ,worshipping their stolen wealth.Yet tension mounts in Styricum and all is disunified , a new epoch seems to be on the horizon ,a  great storm after the long calm. And thus the tale of Iron is only beginning. (Also reg is the best)

Different Races:

 Chagerrta Tribes:  In the Eastern grassland  life moves in cycle , renewal and rebirth are the cornerstones for the eccentric but peaceful people of the steppe , the four armed brightly hued folk known as the Chaggerta. Their migrations , ordained by their faith in the cycle and instinctual need for movement would pass across the plains of central Stricum , the mountain valleys of the north and the arid steppe of the south. Their ringing bells and colorful lanterns heralding the coming of one of their great wagon trains , which would set down so swift at the setting of the sun that by midnight it would seem a new town had appeared in the middle of the wilderness. Though they have weathered war before and are skilled in it the Chaggerta , in their ruler-less tribal confederation prefer peace greatly , loving to sell their exotic wares and herbal remedies in exchange for steel and silk from the mannish kingdoms and precious gems from the Azhikal in the bloody desert. And at times they even dared venture into the land of the undead to barter their eccentric tales and scrolls for the knowledge of the ever-living folk. Then as always they pack up their tents and farms and wares and move elsewhere....after all , the cycle never ends.

    The chaggerta are often tall and lean , with solid packed muscle and skin in hues of all shades of blue , the texture of the skin often being smoother than that of a humans , their hair comes in almost any shade imaginable from green to pure white , and they have small gold or white horns that sit atop their crown , the number and size varying from person to person.They are skilled traders , bards, clerics, healers , wizards and blades-men , and their martial arts though mostly used for self  defense have the respect of many an outsider. For despite their peaceful nature they have little issue with ending lives when needed, for death is only the next spoke on the wheel.

Azhkazil Clans: Often ignored when people speak of the civilizations of the age  the bloody desert is home to the Azhkazil , an humanoid yet insect-like race who like in their great burrow mound cities deep in the heat of the burning sands. The first adversaries of the Spartoai , they spent years battling the newcomers in crusade after crusade as the Spartoai attempted to destroy they're cities and the insect-men retaliated back. Now they work as middle men and traders in the deserts , passing on wares from one people to another. However despite their relegated status they are fiercely independent and though they wouldn't like it , if invaded they will band together , and soon enemy armies will find themselves wandering ,starving and parched in the heat of the sands , as ghosts in the desert begin to surround them.

    Azhkazil tend to be around the size of humans but a bit smaller, with skin tones ranging from light brown to a lime green , they're eyes are compounded and often come in shades of blue , yellow and purple. Their canine teeth are fangs and they also have claw like nails. Hair is often black and wiry ,styled in tightly coiled braids that reach down to the shoulders. They are a lithe folk , lean yet with a sort of whipcord muscle, and though it is taboo there have been quite a many Spartaoi-Azhkaz families in the past.Most see them as sarcastic , always ready to argue , fickle tempered glory seekers who never go back on a deal , but probably won't give you a good one in the first place.

Mannish Kingdoms:  Along the rich southern western coast of Styricum from the region known as he Bay of Bellal to the fertile heartlands of the continents western height lie the kingdoms of man. Descended from the Spartoai settlers who came to the land a millenia ago to escape a great catastrophe , their once united kingdom has fallen apart due to internal strife of all kinds.Now split into four each of these realms has developed it's own unique identity.

Name: Luey
Gender: Male
Super power: Shitty jokes
Super Weakness : easily distracted by the sexy
Special Quote: I am a luxury few can afford

Race : Demon
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Age : 20
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