The land: Aduro (where we begin)
The atrox's land: Acerbus

The story: When the world began, there was light and darkness. There were four dominant races, and they were the elves, the humans, the faeries, and the shifters. There was also the Rau-lass, born of darkness, fell beings who sought power. Gradually, they overtook half of the land, so that they could gather forces and capture the remaining half, Aduro. However, the Rau-lass were too few in numbers to take on the strength of the other flourishing races, so they created the atrox, creatures bereft of souls that were once human. The humans call them 'shadowmen', due to the shadows that surround them, an armor of darkness that burns and blisters the flesh of the living. Faery and elven souls are protected by magic and the shifting, changing souls of shifters are harder to turn into successful atrox, so humans are used for such creations, although there have been other attempts.

The war between the sundered races and their enemy came to be known as the War of Light and Dark, in deference to the legendary origin of each species. The four estranged races have come together for the first time, having realized after devastating losses that the only way to face such a foe is with a united front.

Here's a little background on the races...

[color=#800040]Elves: We all know this, I think. They're tall, graceful, strong, with keen senses, with perhaps too much pride. Many are magic users, and most live by the sea or in forests. Legend says they're born of fire.[/color]
[color=#800080]Humans: Do I really need to describe these guys? Heck, WE'RE human. They live all over Aduro, and have a deep prejudice against elves and faeries. We're born of earth.[/color]
[color=#004000]Faeries: Some have bird's wings, some have transparent butterfly-esque wings. The bird-winged faeries are usually taller, and they inhabit mountains. Their more delicate cousins, the butterfly-winged ones, live in hilled areas or lush valleys. Magic runs strong in this race, but only in very specialized forms, such as healing magic or wind magic. Their weaponry is legendary. Born of air, obviously.[/color]
[color=#004080]Shape-shifters: Being versatile, they can live anywhere. Most are restricted to a specific kind of shifting (i.e, feline shifters do cats, lynxes, tigers, etc. while canine shifters do dogs, wolves, etc.), but they can shift into multiple animals of the same family (again, feline and canine). Their skills depend on their shifter's shapes. For instances, equine shifters are fast and strong, feline is stealthy and quick, etc. They're born of water.[/color]

Present yourself thus:
Name
Race
Appearance
Bio
Strengths and weaknesses

Please, no godmoding.

[color=#BF0000][b]The RP is pretty big at this point, and even though I'm sure that anyone who wants to join would have some amazing characters, we simply can't take on anymore this far into the story, especially as we've begun to plan the end of the RP. Sorry!

Edit: I expect the RP will be over in a few posts... w00t![/b][/color]

Name: Sorea Pardai
Race: Faery
Appearance: Long brown hair that brushes her legs (generally braided), brown eyes, tanned skin. Of average height, with a slight but strong figure. Her wings are feathered, with bars of brown, cream, and sandy spots. Her outfit consists of a white tunic with a low back (to make room for her wings), dark (really dark) red leggings, and black boots. Over the tunic is a vest made of heavy red cloth, extending midway down her things, belted in with her swordbelt, with slits for easy movement. This is part of a faery commander's apparel, as the vest is decorated with the sigils of the position, trimmed with burnished gold thread. She has a hand-and-a-half sword at her left hip, with knives in her boots and strapped to her arms (under the tunic). She carries a bow and a quiver full of arrows on her back. Her arrows are fletched with feathers from her own wings.

Bio: She was raised to be a warrior and a spy, and she tends to keep to herself. Her homeland was the western mountain reaches, near one of the elven forests. Although she can mentally communicate to people, that is the extent of her magical capability.

Strengths and Weaknesses: She's fast and agile, with a good eye, but not brawny enough to fight extremely muscular people. Her flight capabilities though are excellent, although she has trouble flying in stormy weather. As a commander, spy and assassin, she knows well the power of mistrust, seldom taking in people without knowing how it will affect her and whether they'll be of any use.

Name: Thorn

Race: Shifter

Appearance: Waist-length blood-red hair when in human form, emerald blue eyes. Extremely lithe and nimble. So pale as to be almost translucent.

Bio: Daughter of a chieftan, she grew up knowing what she wanted and how to get it fairly. She is one of the few remaining "Ancient" shifters, meaning she can shift into any animal. Her father was killed by an assassin when she was 17, and she left the clan to help others who couldn't help themselves.

Strengths + weaknesses- Being able to shift into any animal, she is extremely versatile in battle, however, she is limited to that animal's abilities whilst in that form. She is extremey lithe and agile, but, at the same time, would not fare well in hand-to-habd combat with anyone. Relies on her abilites to get her out of situations, which has resulted in her almost getting killed several times. Also, any wounds she receives in any form stay with her until healed magically or naturally.
((Need anything changed?))

Name: Thoronir Petir
Race: Shape-shifter

Appearance: Thoronir is short and wide-shoulder, with a sloping brow and thick, bushy eyebrows. He wears the fur of a white bear on his shoulders, overtop simple boiled leather armor. He is thick-boned and heavily-muscled, appearing slow yet surprisingly fast and strong. His eyes are a deep brown, sitting to either side of a wide nose which appeared to have been broken a few too many times. He is bandy-legged and ambles when he walks, taking wide steps. He carries a broadsword and hook-blade with him. The latter is a long double-edged knife that swings out at the end, making it particularly messy as it often drags organs out when it comes out.

Bio: He remembers little of his parents. Born into a small tribe of nomads, he was born under the sign of the bear, giving him the ability to morph into an Ursa. He left his home when he was young, deciding rather to live alone, hunting for his own food. His family held little enmity towards him as he was not unique in doing this. He lived long in the woods, hunting and finding what food he could. Travelers through the parts where he lived came to know him quickly, mostly for his legendary temper. He was known to have mauled more than a handful of humans for their disrespect accorded him. And so most avoid him now.

Strengths and weaknesses: He is very strong, medium fast, and has strong senses, especially his nose. He is usually very isolated and temperamental, which makes him anything but desirable company. He lacks the ability to shift at will, and can now only shift when angered enough.

((OOC; it's fine to be an 'ancient', I guess, but if you must have so much power, then please don't do combos (like a horse/human mix, or something like that). That's all ))

((OOC Sure thing, lol, I wasn't even considering that, actually... XD ))

((OOC Let's start. People can gradually begin to join as the story progresses.))

Sorea tucked in her wings and neatly landed on the ground. Shaking a few stray curls out of her eyes, she glanced about. The place where they were to come was atop a hill, better known as Tumulosus by the Occasus (her west-mountain tribe). She was coming as an officer of the faeries, and thus didn't have to heed the call to arms as early as her underlings. Above, she could see the light reflecting off of feathered wings. This was to be her battalion, along with a regiment of butterfly-winged faeries. At least my soldiers are my own people, she thought, even if my fellow officers aren't.

Name: Vada
Race: Shifter (cause water is my element!!)
Appearance: Long Brown hair, Hazel eyes, light skin tone, tall, thin.
Bio: Born into a shifter village in the middle of a forest. She was raised among trees and feels at home near even a single tree. She discovered her powers during a childs game.
Strengths and weaknesses: Race shifter. Turns into another race( please PM me if these are not allowed). When an Elf: Magic weaker than normal elves. Appearence same. Fairy: Wings more fragile. Human: Nothing different.

::Virtually sprints up the hill to the crest. Battles always got her blood pumping. Thorn slows as she realizes there is already someone present, but she continiues forward.:: "Hi! My name's Thorn! What's yours?" ::Her almost childish attitude is a facade, she is friendly, but very sharp of mind.::

This is no longer applicable. We need characters for the shifters' army and the elven army.
((OOC We've got alot of shifters. If no humans/elves join us anytime soon, then perhaps we should either add them ourselves, or have the muster at this place be for only faeries and shifters, with a separate muster for elves and humans.))

Sorea whirled around, caught by surprise at the friendly shifter's attitude. She felt herself begin to smile. "Hi...I'm Sorea" She said nervously. Cripes, how am I supposed to act around a SHIFTER?! "I'm guessing you're one of my fellow officers?

I'll be an elf, but this is my first time Roleplaying.
Name: Ban'Cherae (Or Cherry)
Race: Elf
Appearance: Long blonde hair, Grey eyes, tall and wears tight white clothes with knee-high boots.
Bio: She grew up thinking she was human, after her parents sent her away thinking it would be safer for her to be out of a magical environment. She found out the truth two years ago, but prefers pysical combat to magical. Very quick tempered and rash, often dives into things without thinking.
Strengths and weaknesses: Fairly agile, and packs quite a punch. She isn't very accomplished at magic though, and prefers to use a sword or her fists.

::Seems to consider the question for a while, then nods, smiling.:: "I guess I am! Pleased to meet you, Sorea!"

Thoronir stood at the edge of the forest, a quizzical look on his face. Some sort of gathering was taking place atop a hill in front of him, about a hundred paces away. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, bathing his face in warm, glorious light. He wore his standard garb: light woolen leggings, uncolored, underneath a simple green linen shirt. A boiled leather breastplate was atop his chest, and a white bear fur covered his shoulders. His jade-colored eyes, set deep in his grizzled, scarred face, observed with casual indifference, a perfunctory stance to his wide, muscled shoulders. Those eyes were close-set underneath thick, bushy eyebrows, and short, messy hair. His robust arms were folded across his chest.

Sighing, he pushed off of the tree he was leaning against, righted himself. He began to stride forward, his short legs taking a calm pace up the hill. He was rarely curious, yet a gathering of warriors such as this could do naught but pique some of his reluctant inquisitiveness. He saw Faeries coming down from the sky, slowly dropping to land atop the hill, where most stood milling about, unsure as to what to do. He stopped suddenly, as a scent caught his nose.

He sniffed. The essence was unmistakable. Apparently, not only faeries were gathering, but shifters like him, as well. He had heard nothing of a summons, yet that was not surprising; he had long since severed his blood-ties to his family, instead choosing a route of solitude. He held no communication except with the few travelers who passed near his camps, and there had been increasingly few of those.

He reached the top of the hill, and stood on one side of the faeries, both the type with the thin, frail-looking wings, and those like birds. Sneering his dislike at being near a crowd, he began to walk forward with the intention of finding out what was happening. Most of the faeries shied away from him, avoided eye contact. Not surprising considering his mouth was still curled back in a vicious sneer, his sharpened, pointed teeth bared in disgust. Sighing, he realized he wouldn't find his answers in this group of low-life faeries.

Crossing the small plateau, he emerged to where most of the shapeshifters had gathered. He approached one, who was standing alone, seemingly oblivious to what surrounded her.

"You," said Thoronir, nodding towards her. His voice was rough, abrasive as he continued. "What is happening here?"

The shifter started, turned to look at him. She was small, slim, but still appeared strong. Her eyes were slitted, like those of the large cats which Thoronir sometimes saw in the forest. She wore a long black dress, unadorned except for a small silver clasp which was pinned over her shoulder. Her long, cascading black hair fell to her shoulders, long and unrestrained. She was startlingly beautiful.

"You don't know?" she asked. Her voice was soft, timbre, as she spoke. Thoronir shook his head. "Well, we're here to stop those invaders. I forget what they were called. But the summons has been called, and now we are here in answer.

Thoronir grunted. "Like sheep to a shepherd, you flock. Until that shepherd decides to sell you and you are made into lambchops." He smiled, baring his ghastly teeth.

"And you?" she asked him, stepping forward, hands on hips, "What has summoned you here great aloof one?"

"I come to investigate," he said, his smile deepening, "what is all this noise. But I see it is nothing more than a rabble. Certainly not an army set to march to the drums of war."

"Well now you have investigated, and will you stay? With those you have proclaimed doomed?"

"Perhaps with me you may have a chance yet," was his arrogant reply.

She snorted. "Men, you're all the same."

"Perhaps we are, but when the time of battle comes, seek me. I shall be the one to protect you," he said. She had looked away now, facing North. After she didn't answer, he shrugged, casually strode past her. So he would march, but he would not be commanded. He would join as a third party, outside of this motley assortment of play soldiers. He would be his own army.

Name: Night
Race: Elf
Appearance: Silver blue hair golden eyes and black feathered wings with dark purple and blue. leather jacket, silver pants no shoes but metal plate as foot gueards that go up to her knees.
Bio: Night can't remember much of her early life because she soon turned traveler and had been almost everywere. Even she's not exactly sure why she had wings.
Strengths and weaknesses: Exelent sword fighter and can control shadows. But she has a problem controlling her power when she's angry.

::Gazes out at the massing troops. Sighs wistfully, wishing she could be one of them again. On that day she had taken out the raiding party that otherwise would have killed her battalion, Thorn had become an unofficial leader of her group. Now, though, it was official, and she led more than her small battalion this time. She sighs again and waits for events to unfold.::

Sorea sighed inwardly, pleased at least that she had gotten along with the shifter. Turning around she sized up her battalion, feeling her lip curl in mild disgust at some of the brittle-winged butterflies and the akward way they held famed faery weaponry. Like toddlers. All told, there appeared to be fifteen-score feathered and five-score butterflies. In other words, only four hundred soldiers to her name. Perhaps there are more faeries at the other musters, Sorea thought apprehensively. Although her feathery kindred resembled proper soldiers (they had to, living in the mountains), the pampered butterflies had a few nervous flutterers among them. Standing a bit away, Thorn's ranks of shifters stood calm, making the flutterers look even worse than they already did. They'd have a lot of shaping up to do....

((I'm guessing you still accept? LOL. You need more diversity!))

Name: Rae Ambey

Race: Human ((le gasp!!!))

Appearance: Short, dark brown hair. Light hazel eyes that swirls with emotions. He often wears rather old, baggy soldiers' uniform, although he isn't exactly a military member. He wishes he has a strong build, but he is rather thin, and is average height. He often has a joking smile on his face. There is a tatto of a black pheonix on his left wrist, but he often covers that up with gloves.

Bio: He grew up around the soldiers because his parents were in the army. Because of this, he grew up, strongly believing in justice. This is also the reason why he loves to fight. When he was thirteen, he accidentally broke his left wrist in a fight. His grandma, rather a superstitious woman, gave him that black phoenix tatto, promising him that it'll strengthen him when he needs it. But Rae hated the fact that he'll be 'protected' by a tatto, and covers it up as shame. Since then, he had travelled with the army, hoping to get in some actions.

Strengths/Weaknesses: His punches are probably the best and only weapon you'll ever see him using. Since that's his method of battle, he doesn't need to carry any weapon. However, fists don't exactly work well against magic... He cannot read or write, for he didn't think it will aid him with fighting. When someone strong/talented is spotted, his first and foremost thought is to fight them. He doesn't treat females any different from males when fighting them.

((OOC Hi Rae!)).

Name: Pheonix Rayne

Race: Human

Appearance: short, cropped, ginger hair set around a face with high cheekbones and relatively wide jaw; deep, conifer-green eyes often seeming quite cold; most often seen wearing brown shorts, knee-length, practical boots and a white vest top with no sleeves but if cold, may also wear a brown leather jacket (matching the boots); carries long-sword at her back and a hidden dagger in her left boot; leather arm guards may also carry hidden daggers easily slid out into her palm; thin scar underneath left eye hidden by a long fringe.

Bio: having grown up in the woods as long as she could remember, Phoenix (Nix sometimes used for short) has no memory of her family background, though her skill with the blade sometimes suggests a noble birth. Shunned by all races, Phoenix lived with forest wolves from the age of sixteen, leaving their company at the age of maturity to make her own way in the world. Because of this, she often seems quite rough-handed about matters, treating things the way nature would, and although very loyal in herself, Phoenix is often untrustworthy of others.

Strengths and weaknesses: very good with her daggers - less so with the sword but still formiddable - and has a lot of skill in bush-craft, including healing; can sometimes be too eager to fight - often because of her inability to trust - and thus can be difficult company, also due to her lack of tact; however, in a sticky situation, she will always stick by her 'pack' - to the death if necessary.

-----------

Phoenix watched the grouped mass of Faerie-folk milling about with mild curiosity. Some looked calm - mostly the feather-winged creatures - but most looked nervous and others looked down-right terrified. The timber-wolf stood next to her in the shadows nudged her hand gently, leaning against the back of her leg, his body heavy and flanks warm. Without looking down, Phoenix frowned, her green eyes resting on an ambling shapeshifter.

"This isn't my war," she returned to the wolf, folding her arms across her chest as she leant against the ancient tree, "Let them deal with it themselves. They put themselves in this situation, they can get themselves out of it." Her gaze flicked down once as the wolf growled softly. "I'm not joining them. Not this time."

Casually ignoring her, the large timber-wolf trotted out of the woodland into the daylight, his nose fixed on the commotion upon the hill above and his ears pricked.

"Demon!" Phoenix hissed, standing straight, her fists clenching, "Demon, get your furry behind back here now!" She growled herself as the wolf ignored her, continuing on his trek up the green mound, and instantly, a dagger slipped into her palm. "Demon! I'll turn your hide into a fur coat and sell it to the traders if you take one more step towards those... those things!"

Realising that she wasn't going to get any response unless she followed, Phoenix jogged after him, grabbing his tail once it was in reach. "Demon, stop!" The wolf halted, turning to face her and giving a single huff through his black nose. Phoenix's voice became softer. "We can't trust them, Demon. Too many of us have been hunted in the past." Golden eyes met her forest-green ones and Phoenix understood what he was trying to say. "Why should we change if they don't?" she returned bitterly but once again, Demon had turned on his heel, now approaching the faerie-folk. "Dammit, Demon..." Phoenix muttered and reluctantly followed.

Eventually reaching the rise, Phoenix realised that there were more than just faeries present. There were at least two shifters - including the bear-like one she had seen earlier - and she briefly wondered why they were present: there was no gain in it for them. Or none that she could see anyway. Stumbling into something, she realised Demon had stopped, sitting quietly in front of her feet next to a feather-winged faerie that seemed to be the leader. Phoenix placed a fist in the ruff around the back of the wolf's neck and tugged firmly, trying to reassert her authority, but the great timber-wolf ignored her once more.

"Dammit Demon..." she muttered again, before finally raising her gaze to meet the faerie's. "I doesn't look like you have enough to me," Phoenix stated bluntly, her green eyes seemingly uninterested.

"It doesn't look like you have enough", the wolf-following human said. Sorea stared at the wolf, then at her, unsure of their intentions. The aura she'd expected was that of a shifter- after all, the girl seemed amazingly syncronized with the wolf's emotion. But it wasn't so. "You're a human", she said, gently probing her mind, "yet that wolf stays calmly by your side..." Her voice trailed off as she mentally connected to her fellow officers. Who is this person, and do any of you know her? Or is she the representative officer of the humans?