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Skaerra: The Unlikely Tale

Introduction



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Credit to Pierre Henri de Valenciennes





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The world of Skaerra (Sky-Ra) holds many wonders and secrets. It is a world of four continents, and vast seas and oceans dotted by many islands and archipelagos. Magic enriches the land and the seas with its almost infinite abundance. The splendor of this world beckons the touch of capricious and undeserving gods.

It is the Year 3528, or Year 28 of the Eighth Era. The Aea, heavenly stewards whose purpose is to watch over the Creator's designs, have long been split since the days of the First Era. The exiled Aea under Ircys await the return of their leader Molos, the Fallen Star. Molos's brother, Oelne, the usurper of Creation, prepares for war once more with his allies and their armies behind him. He has not forgotten the Heavenly War when Oelne defeated Molos and forced him to flee into the great vast Night seeking the Creator. Oelne will ensure that their primacy is absolute once and for all. That they may finally call themselves the true rulers of this realm, and leave the Creator behind as a mere imagination.

A sickness of unknown origin, the Red Wind, has fallen upon the Elven realm of Alheras. The Council of Flyfendel rallies the elven leaders to erect measures to halt its spread through Elven lands while contending with invaders sensing weakness among their ranks. Princess Anundhel Eressea of the Royal House of Alheras has taken it upon herself to seek out a cure. For the cure, she requires three ingredients. Water from the Well of Regrets, a fountain of immortality. The heart of a black drake named Vormyceres, who consumed a star that rendered his heart unable to decay. Finally, a leaf from the oldest tree in existence, Yparil.

Meanwhile, the Empire of Dessor finds itself embroiled in new conflicts with the barbarous tribes to the north and the feudal city states of the Northern Coalition. Chancellor Renocles Isidore plots with a faction of Senators to seize power from Emperor Pellion Loenthil.

Clandestine agents race against time to stop the unraveling of the barriers between the mortal realm of Skaerra and the immaterial realms.

In these times of peril, a few souls, though left behind by fate, forge their own destinies as they are thrust to the forefront of all this.

They may find that all is not as it seems.




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Welcome to Skaerra!


A high fantasy roleplay with epic and mythic overtones. It is a story about nobodies becoming larger than life heroes by embarking on a great journey through a world rife with the surreal and fantastical. It is an adventure beyond their wildest dreams, literally. The story concerns a group of characters who are all entwined by having dreamt a specific dream. Where it will take them, they know not. Perhaps their tale will be enshrined as legends for generations to come. However, the fates have yet to weave those strands. Thus, the rest will be up to us.


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Credit to MOOD from "Fall of Gods"




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First, I want to make it clear that, no matter what, I am taking you on as the writers, not as the characters you play. This is why I encourage people to not be so attached to their character and to try and write for NPCs or be open to the idea of killing their characters.

The characterization should be dynamic. When someone else describes your character in IC, feel free to quote that and put it in your character's profile. You'll be free to customize those pages however you like. One image (excluding the avatar pic) in their portraits at the start of this roleplay is required. The first image is for the sake of everyone being on the same page on a mental visual standpoint as far as their face is concerned. The appearance does not need to match what the image has, for you can describe your character's dress as you would unrestricted. There is no limit on images. Concept art is recommended.

Also, please reference other characters' sheets for guidance if necessary. PMs for help are welcome too.

Now at the end of all of this, if you find these terms acceptable, I welcome you to join me.


Code: Select all
[font="(Pick One of Your Choice.)"]
[b]Name:[/b] (Include preferred pronunciation.)
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Race:[/b]
[b]Ethnicity:[/b] (Under certain races, like humans there are sub ethnic groups.)
[b]Place of Birth:[/b]

[b]Physical Appearance:[/b] (One paragraph minimum.)
[b]Eye Color:[/b]
[b]Hair Color:[/b]
[b]Skin Tone/Complexion:[/b]
[b]Height:[/b]
[b]Weight:[/b]

[b]Combat Skills:[/b]
[u]Magic Mastery Level:[/u] (Check Magic and Flow thread for more information.)
[u]Magic Resistance Level:[/u] (Check Magic and Flow thread for more information.)
[u]Flow Mastery Level:[/u] (Check Magic and Flow thread for more information.)
[u]Weapons and Equipment:[/u] (Up to you.)

[b]Miscellaneous Items:[/b]

[b]Personality Description:[/b] (One paragraph minimum.)
[b]Religious Beliefs:[/b]
[b]Education:[/b]

[b]History:[/b] (Two paragraphs minimum.)[/font]

Toggle Rules

Communicate, talk to us, we're people too.
Standard RoleplayGateway Rules apply.
Common courtesy roleplay rules apply.
  • No god-modding.
  • No meta-gaming.
Expect to be active on a daily to weekly basis.
No OOC comments in IC posts.
If work or school has you busy let us know when you'll be gone or if you need to leave.
Characters will be killed off or removed in the event of the owner's lengthy absence. If you wish for your creative property to remain untouched, let us know.
Rules are subject to change.


Disclaimer: All creative content within this roleplay are the intellectual property of their respective owners. Please do not use this without our express consent and permission.

Browse All » 21 Settings to roleplay in

Gyarazi Desert

Gyarazi Desert by VindicatedPurpose

The desert that surrounds the coastal cities of Khi'ir and Korm on the western coast of Syakh.

Seirkent

Seirkent by VindicatedPurpose

Seirkent is located further in land away from Syakh.

Hamyzadh Desert

Hamyzadh Desert by VindicatedPurpose

The Hamyzadh desert is located east of the Syakh free cities and the Sultanate of Asyral.

Daellean

Daellean by VindicatedPurpose

Daellean. Also known as The Elven Realm to outsiders.

Khi'ir

Khi'ir by VindicatedPurpose

The city of Khi'ir is a fine port city off the western coast of the continent of Syakh.

Meroan Sea

Meroan Sea by VindicatedPurpose

The Meroan Sea is a body of water that separates the southern tips of Dessor from Syakh.

The Upper Plane

The Upper Plane by VindicatedPurpose

The Upper Plane is the realm of the gods and angels.

The White Sphinx

The White Sphinx by VindicatedPurpose

The White Sphinx aptly named because of the White Sphinx creature that adorns the entrance.

Syakh

Syakh by VindicatedPurpose

The continent of Syakh is home to Sultanates and Caliphates, the free cities, and the ruins of of the Zengid Empire.

Universe of Skaerra

Universe of Skaerra by VindicatedPurpose

A creation of the One Creator.

World of Skaerra

World of Skaerra by VindicatedPurpose

Welcome to Skaerra

Dessor

Dessor by VindicatedPurpose

The continent of Dessor is home to the Empire of Dessor and the Elven Realms.

Province of Opris

Province of Opris by VindicatedPurpose

The Province of Opris, major cities include Opynonias.

Opynonias

Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

One of the major cities of the Province of Opris within the Empire of Dessor.

Colosseum of Opynonias

Colosseum of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The central attraction at Opynonias, if the walls are not bloodied, something has gone wrong.

Port of Opynonias

Port of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The port of Opynonias.

Marketplace of Opynonias

Marketplace of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The marketplace is lined with indoor shops and merchant stands covered beneath canopies of fabric.

Sirine Hill

Sirine Hill by VindicatedPurpose

A quiet neighborhood district, east of the Colosseum, and south of the marketplace. Dhaxi's manor can be found here.

Province of Aetille

Province of Aetille by VindicatedPurpose

The Province of Aetille is otherwise known as the Imperial Province.

Foreign Quarter

Foreign Quarter by VindicatedPurpose

The Foreign Quarter is a section of Khi'ir's lower city where a number of expatriates and non-natives live and work.

Imperial City of Aetumnas

Imperial City of Aetumnas by VindicatedPurpose

Aetumnas, otherwise known as the Imperial City.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 9 authors

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Year 3500, Skaerra Calendar

Within grand hallowed halls, Ircys stood. He awoke from a dream that spoke and called him to stand watch. It was the same dream he had had every slumber. He strode forward to the edge with caution, his eyes firm upon the night beyond the hall. The darkness surrounded him, as it had for over millennia. He no longer missed the clouds that he once looked down upon. He felt content as he always felt, but now he felt something different.

She stepped in, unannounced, but certainly ever welcome. Tiamniel approached him, trying to see what he was seeing.

"What is it?" Her voice, though rich like a harp, trembled at the sight of him upon the edge.

"Every night, it is the same. The same voice calling for me to stand watch and wait. It tells me it is him, but I wait, and I wait. And never do I see him."

"More urgent matters have arisen," she spoke.

Ircys turned his eyes to her grim countenance.

Tiamniel's brow furrowed, "Oelne is plotting something, I sense it. The first in more than a thousand years, as if his throne has grown uncomfortable for him. That arrogant bast-"

"You have sent Jehael?"

"Jehael is investigating as we speak."

"We must remain vigilant of his moves. Though powerless as we are, what few deeds we can do, we must do. He would have wanted it."

Ircys gave one last look at the night before he would go to his rest, but before he could rest something had diverted him. He examined it further.

"Do you see...?"

"What?"

"Do you see it?"

Ircys was unsure, but suddenly a hope rose from beneath the surface. It had to be tempered, though. Oelne's servants were watching. They could not risk revealing themselves or much of what they knew.

"He is returning."

"Who?"

"Do you not remember our brother?"

Tiamniel resigned with a sigh before she started back for her chambers, disappointed that he still kept with this charade while the rest had moved on. They had waited for him for a long time. A very long time, but none for so long as Ircys. Though they had all given up, Ircys never tired in his watch.

"He is gone Ircys. Fled. He has disappeared and left us all here to rot. We have waited, for so long, he has broken his promise. Come what may to this world. We have given enough of our souls and time to it," she pleaded, "Can we not leave the rest in the hands of the Creator?"

Ircys remained poised, and unmoved. He knew what he saw, what he was seeing.

"No, the Creator chose us. The Creator chose him. I see him. I see it."

"You see nothing but Night. Night is laughing at your delusions, Ircys. Even it knows that Mo-"

"It is different now. I see it, I see the Fallen Star. He returns."

Tiamniel paused and shifted her eyes into the ever large expanse of night.

Many stars glittered like jewels among a velvet drape, like specks that remained untouched on a blackened canvas.

Then there was one, so different from the rest. It shone with muted brilliance, as though it had been waiting for too long for its time to finally come.

Ircys saw it.

Now she saw it. She took several tentative steps forward, "Is that..."

"Him," Ircys expressed, his breath almost completely escaped from him.

"Go," he bade, "Tell the others that he is returning. Inform Nylae and the others. We must-"

"Rest first. I will speak with Nylae. What more can we do now?"

Ircys breathed, "I know not."

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to Colosseum of Opynonias

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Character Portrait: Huo
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Thoom. A loud thud rocked the entire arena.

The mace almost made contact with Huo, but instead bore into the ground only a few paces from where he stood. He sidestepped it, but only barely. It had managed to loosen his balance only for a little bit.

The other fellow was a brawny and tall fighter, about a head taller than Huo. A black mask hid his face, one that Huo could sense was grinning. He probably thought that Huo had difficulty keeping up.

A few breaths here and there to steady himself, "My grandmother could swing better than that!"

If Huo had a grandmother to compare to his opponent, that is. He was a tall Niessen with a sculpted figure. His arms looked as though they could snap a man's neck in half, much less swing a giant mace that could reach farther than his entire wingspan.

That was a disadvantage that Huo had to live with in this particular bout.

To hell with exhibition matches, especially when all he had were his bare fists. The other fighter would not let him an inch to throw a decent punch.

They called him the Black Hammer of Noro, an odd name considering that his hammer was not black and it was not even a hammer. The weapon was a mace in function with a solid chain attached to head of solid steel block akin to that of a blacksmith's hammer

It seemed the other fighter felt self-assured enough with the rest of his figure, perhaps a tad bit boastful of his statuesque appearance. His attire consisted his mask, boots, and crotch guard, all of which was black. The latter of which made an impression on a colosseum crowd back in 3525. Since then, it has been the talk of the townspeople. The average colosseum-goer began to mistakenly expect that all gladiators went about in their duels half-nude.

Certainly was not the case with Huo, who much enjoyed his privilege to dress in full armor and garb. Though, every now and then he felt it necessary to flaunt his abdominals before a crowd that paid good money for a good show.

This particular fight, though, he thanked himself that he wore something that could soften a hammer blow. Even if it slowed him down by a little. The Niessen pulled back the mace as though it were the anchor of a sand skiff. He began to whirl the hammer, ready to fling it at Huo or swing it to sweep him closer to the edge of the arena until the only direction he could move, was forward.

Rather than wait for that to happen, Huo rushed forward at that moment when he still had space between his back and the edge. He had spent almost the entire bout so far retreating, this move caught the Niessen off guard. His grip on the hammer-mace fumbled as he tried to react. He swung the steel block in the direction of the Osu slave, who more than welcomed it by rearing back to avoid the blow that might have taken out his head.

Huo had no teacher when it came to the Flow. He did what he could, following the instincts of the energy. He would have released some flames at his opponent, but that was a considerable drain, and certainly poor sportsmanship.

He just needed to land a single blow with enough force on the Black Hammer. It need not be fatal, just enough to render him unconscious and end the bout. Huo was a fighter, not a killer, at least under his current circumstances. He was sure the other fighter had less mercy than him though.

As the Niessen hurried to pull the head back within his grasp, Huo pulled forward ever closer. Now the Niessen did not need to use more strength because his target was closer. Huo had hoped that his opponent had exhausted most of their reserves of energy during the early stages of the bout especially when the sun was only beginning to show its face. Now that it was beating down heavily on them, Huo would need to strike a finishing blow the sooner the better.

He pulled forward, digging his heels deep to push him as close as possible to the Niessen every time he winded up his swing or throw. The Niessen retreated a couple of steps in between each, he wanted space between them otherwise his weapon would be near useless against a quicker footed fighter as Huo. But each time he tried to widen the space, Huo would close the gap a little closer.

Until, Huo tripped on a rock that was hidden by the sand. He fell forward into a dirt cloud. The Niessen scrambled to retrieve the mace and arch his back for a final swing...

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Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper
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Vadania jerked awake with a snort. She reached for a dagger, but her hand only met the rough sackcloth that adorned her body. The Duuthesh sat up and inspected her surroundings. Her head immediately throbbed with the sudden motion and her vision blurred. It took a moment for the pain to subside before her elven eyes pierced through the darkness.

The ground was hard and cobbled from rough bricks that dug uncomfortably into her rear. Though the majority of the room was pitch, dim torch light illuminated the steel bars of her cell from the hallway. A foul smelling bucket sat in the opposite corner of her tiny prison. The coppery taste of blood stuck to the roof of her mouth. Vadania clicked her swollen tongue and tried to remember how she had gotten into this situation.

She had staked out the manor for nearly two weeks. It was during the new moon, when the night was darkest, that she snuck passed the sleeping gate guard. Everything had gone according to plan. The loot was in her bag and her blade had yet to be wetted by any guards. Then when she decided to peek inside the master bedroom she spotted a priceless jewel encrusted locket on the mantle.

The damn thing would have fed her for a month if she had not stepped on the family dog - which promptly woke up the entire household. She tried to escape the way she came in, but guards were now scurrying the manor like angry ants. Vadania decided to slip out the back and make her way through the garden, but a particularly brave groundskeeper with a shovel and a good swinging arm apparently took offense to that line of thought...

Then there was the matter of that dream. She never really put much stock in visions or things of the divine. Vadania could not eat prayer books or mysticism. However, something about it bothered her. It felt too real - like something was pulling her towards it and hammering it into her head.

She didn't like it one bit.

Her compilations were interrupted by an awful grating sound. A dark-clothed figure appeared in the torchlight. His face was obstructed by the torch's shadow, but the wooden bowl in his hand was a clear enough sign of his intentions.

"Eat up, elf whore." the man's gravely voice echoed in the chamber. "Yer gonna need all the energy ya can get to survive the fights..."

He dropped the bowl of slop unceremoniously on the ground before meandering back down the corridor. Vadania slowly stood on her bare feet and hobbled over to the bowl to inspect it. It was some sort of brown sludge - barely fit to feed hogs.

"I suppose I've had worse." she whispered with parched lips. "Now, how do I get out of here..."

She ran her fingers through her silvery-white hair like a fine-toothed comb. It took several passes before a victorious smirk spread across her mouth. Vadania pulled out her hand to reveal a small lockpick.

"Now that's taken care of..." she said while eyeing the bowl. "Might as well not let this go to waste."

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
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Antius Geminus was never one to ignore dreams or visions. Considering that he had lived and breathed magic for most of his own life, that wouldn't come as a surprise to most people. Mages did not have to believe in deities necessarily, but the fact that they shaped and were shaped by an energy source mundane people could scarcely understand meant that most mages were inclined to believe in something. That wasn't to say that there weren't mages who were strictly materialists with magic just another part of the natural world to be studied, but those types of Mages did not usually receive visions. Antius didn't think he was the type either.

He frowned as he entered the Mess Hall, scroll in hand. A few other gladiators nodded at him, but he paid them no heed, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about social niceties at the moment. The dream had been so real. Every person in that tavern had different features, features that corresponded with reality. His dreams were often hazy and disconnected from the real world. He certainly did not dream up the smells of cheap ale and piss. Pretty women in distress on the other hand...

He shook his head. Focus, Antius. This was a real experience.

It was a pity he did not have access to the Academy anymore. He would have more resources than single scroll restating everything he knew about visions in the first place.

"There is a source and it's best not to ignore it. Right..." he murmured with a sigh. He folded up the scroll in frustration, "It's not as though the Emperor and the Senate will let me walk out of here alive, no matter how many fights I win."

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Character Portrait: Huo
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7th Breh 3528 C.E.,
Signed, Mazha Phrina


Madame Phrina placed the quill down, and rolled her fingers before picking it up again.

She breathed a sigh and craned her sore neck, letting loose a few pops before she returned to her task. She worked beneath the light filtering from the large arch just above her workroom. One hand was settled on attempting to complete several forms for her back taxes. She owed a significant portion of gold to the Imperials, and they had repeatedly threatened to vacate her colosseum by force. The vocal threats felt insufferable and ever unwarranted. Their mouths often shut once the coins fell into their pockets. It was the price to pay to live on their land, do business on their land, and be protected on their land.

That one hand managed a quill on the thick stack of papyrus while her attention was elsewhere.

The other hand leafed through several pages of the daily combat records, a list of fighters slated to appear in the arena and their opponents among other information.

She glanced back and forth between her tome and the tax records.

A young boy out of breath reached her open door, "Madame Phrina.."

His name was Ehlan.

"Yes, Ehlan?"

Ehlan was one of her many messengers who relayed the results of each battle to her. She had no particular desire to sit through each individual match when she had other work to take care of.

She looked at his round eyes. Never a day has gone by that she is in awe at the blood that the boy has seen, and yet his eyes still remain bright. They will darken once he has taken a life for himself.

Ehlan caught his breath, "Tumhathil won his."

"Thank you Ehlan," she replied.

He nodded with a satisfied smiled, and disappeared down the hall leaving her alone once again. She was never truly alone though, for she could hear the echoes of the crowds roaring from the colosseum. She could tell a flurry of bets were being placed. Occasionally a piercing scream could be heard, she knew it was someone who had lost his family fortune.

She returned to the tome and flipped to Tumhathil and crossed off his opponent's name for the day's fight.

"The 'Lion' made short work of his opponent," a honeyed male voice came from the door where the young messenger stood only moments ago.

Phrina looked up to see the marred face of her long time friend, Dhaxi. He did not don his usual robes today it seemed, appearing rather relaxed in his white thawb and brown kufi. He had a bit of a shadow growing, she thought it out of character considering he preferred to be clean shaven always. Almost always.

She smiled from the corner of her mouth, before she oped warmly, "MarαΈ₯aban. Sleep well?"

"Salaam alaikum. The gods willed it. It seems you are busy, if not I would have invited you to attend a match and then shahan ful."

Phrina's smile deepened before her eyes returned to her records, "You know I do not watch the fights personally, it is more business than entertainment to me."

"Yes, your continued absence among the maenianum is ever felt. The boy is fighting today."

She managed a chuckle at his quip.

"The Black Hammer of Noro," she flickered a glance at his figure before returning to her papyrus, "Clearly another 'short work' to be made."

"If not him, then maybe one of the others. A considerable lot of interesting characters will be making their pay today."

She continued writing, "You seem questionably relaxed this morning. Even if Syel'Breh is coming, I'm rather surprised to ever see you so contented."

The corners of his mouth raised in pleasure, "Contented? Perhaps. I was merely informed by one of my people that Zilindar managed to acquire a wanted Duuthesh thief. She's withering away in one of his rat infested cells. I'll see how the fractious fool will worm his way out of things when the first Imperial soldiers show up in town with warrants for her arrest."

Lovely. And while they were at it, they could get on her case regarding the taxes. She rolled her eyes, things would take care of themselves, she was sure.

"Shahan ful, you said?"

The setting changes from Colosseum of Opynonias to Universe of Skaerra

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Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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Klang! A stranger in a strange bar.

Klang! The hell does she mean, β€œRed Wind”?

Klang! What is happening to her now? Klang!

Klang! Where did she go?

Klang! Klang! Klang!

The echo of metal on metal rang in the air, stirring with the multitude of sound that rose from the inner ring of the colosseum. Thank the Creator for the din, as it drown out the ever pulsing thoughts that resounded in the tired mind of the youth putting hammer to steel at the time. A young Niessen, fair of hair and fair of skin, toiled at the anvil that was placed just inside the last gate before the actual arena floor spread forth in a field of blood soaked sand. Sweat rolled down the young man’s distinguished features as he plied his trade, mending a gladiator’s fractured shield with a slow weld along an outer crack. He’d told the man that it would be best to just use another, but the fighter claimed he has sentimental attachment and she the young man worked to mend it as best he could, sure any flaw would spell the end of the shield and thus the end of the gladiator’s life.

That was his trade now. Where other blacksmith’s dealt in steel and iron to till the fields and harvest the grain he deal in life and death, in blood and bone. A dagger he crafted yesterday may be used to cut a throat a few days later. At the same time the shield he mended my ford off a lethal strike from that same dagger if he did his job well. There was a new duality to his work that the boy had never considered, never conceived, never even dreamed on a drunken night he would face. To be honest he absolutely despised it.

β€œCaspian, careful with the leather!” a loud rumble of a voice called form across the forge. Looking up the youth found the deep resonance to have originated in the bulging belly of his new master, a man named Amon who was the head blacksmith at the Colosseum.

β€œAye, sir!” he replied curtly and made doubly sure of his next few strikes. The young man was a journeyman as a blacksmith and was doing well by all accounts, but this new job was far from easy. In the past Caspian, as he was called, worked at his father’s shop by day, tending they family tavern with his mother at night, and was ne’er the aware of such a brutal reality as he found in these sandstone walls that surrounded him. But now he had a benefit that his father’s shop lacked, a front row seat to the effect of that sword that he had fired a fortnight past. Caspian redoubled his effort on his work, trying to drown out the images he’d seen weapons of his hand cause in recent weeks. This apprenticeship could not end soon enough.


Klang!

The sound coming from the arena swam with the sway of the crowd as the exhibition bout being fought within took a sudden turn. Caspian could have glanced over through the wooden slats of his station on the sidelines but he didn’t feel the need. These kind of sports never interested him, even as a child, and on the few holidays that the family had made the attempt to trek the few days between the Colosseum and his home town he had never come to the imposing structure to see a fight but rather one of the non-violent performances of a circus or some religious reenactment. His father didn’t like the bloodshed either, saying he’d seen enough in his old days during the war. Apparently, however, Master Amon hadn’t. He glanced up through the slats and whistled through his teeth; β€œHuo’s having trouble!” he called swiftly as another roar erupted from the crowd.

Caspian continued with his work, stoking another band of thin metal in the fire to be applied to reinforce the cracked shield yet again, he didn’t want to watch these matches any more than he had too; although the thuds of the large weapon being used within were useful in drowning out the nagging and bodiless vocalizations running through his head. Until he heard another Thud! followed by a short cry just a few dozen yards behind him. That didn’t come from the arena… he thought with a sigh as he slowly turned to see if his suspicions were correct. β€œDamn it.” of course they were.

β€œGah!” a another guttural cry escaped the small body of a young boy before being cut short by another kick to his side from one of the three tall guards that surrounded him. The boy wore a ragged cloth tunic and couldn’t have been more than ten years old, a slave brought in to do the menial chores of the grand Colosseum, one of many similar youths that serviced the massive walls. The three guards were also no rare sight, and their current actions of kicking one of the slaves was equally (and disgustingly) common, as they were part of the brigade employed here to simply keep the public under control and ensure that things ran smoothly. To call them guards was being far more generous than those swine deserved. They were thugs dressed up and paraded around for the public showing little to no truth like every other part of this charade. Just trappings on shit sprayed with perfume to make the patrons forget the stench.

β€œGet up, swine!” one of the guards called with a grin to the boy, who was struggling to even breathe, β€œwhen we say stop you stop!” he demanded as he delivered another kick to the boys abdomen with a chuckle from him and his mates. β€œGet up!” once again he demanded the impossible of the boy he was abusing while his chuckles turned slowly into an angry grimace. β€œI said, Get up!”

Caspian understood what the guard was feeling, impatience, anger, and frustration against another human being; but the boy just coughed and the guards just stared with their anger growing at the child’s noncompliance and their frustration was coming to a head. When he first arrived Caspian had failed to let his own anger boil over in time to help someone in the same straits, that would not happen again. β€œIf you won’t obey orders I’ll give you a reason to lie down!”

The guard raised his spear, aiming the blunted end for the boys back and plunged. He would have taken their little abuse to a whole new level, as they usually did, had his swing not caught a few inched above the boy’s spine. β€œGuh!” the guard grunted against the excursion of his one handed strike as his wrist was caught in the grasp of the young blacksmith. Snarling at the interloper as his comrades took a step back in surprise the guard made to wrench his arm form the youth’s grasp. It was a pathetic showing; he tugged once, twice, three times, each with more force until he was bodily pulling himself away from the one handed grip of the smith. Caspian held firm, and as the guard demanded that he release him the blacksmith reached up and unclasp the man’s wrist guard expertly, sending the guard wheeling away and stumbling to find purchase on the dirt as his own force throw him back, β€œYou bastard! The hell do you think you’re doing!?”

It wasn’t even a fight; the guards before Caspian were just for show, like ninety percent of the guards in the Colosseum. They looked big in their padded leather uniforms and their slightly shortened spears to give the illusion of size however these men barely worked at all and couldn’t possibly hope to out muscle a blacksmith who worked with hard steel all day long. As if to prove his point Caspian tightened his grip on the thin metal sleeved leather guard in his hand, bending the entire piece sharply inward while he took a step toward the men, β€œI’ve been waiting for this kid for the past half hour, you the reason he’s been delayed?” the youth demanded in as deep a voice as he could muster.

The guards were taken aback at first but sneered as they regained their balance, β€œThe hell you talking about, there’s plenty of slaves around, why would you call for this shrimp!?” the man who was the clear ring leader wheezed through clenched teeth at Caspian. β€œJust cause you say it’s so doesn’t make it true, you’re a liar!”

Taking the initiative had given Caspian an advantage, but even having dealt with countless aggressive drunks at his family’s tavern wasn’t enough to steel him beyond his initial attack. He was flat footed; he’d muscled his way in but had no exit strategy and was easily in way over his head. He stammered for a second until a deep booming voice came from over his shoulder, β€œAn’ wha’ if I say it’s true, eh?” stepping to the side Caspian gave his master a grateful glance and looked to the guards as the blood drained form their faces. β€œYa boys go’ a problem with it?” Amon demanded. The tides had shifted again as the child gasped for air holding his stomach looking up at the battle raging in glares and glance above him, β€œYou ther’, boy, ge’ up and ge’ to work!” Amon demanded stone faced.

Slowly the youth managed to brace himself on his arms and knees until he was able to get to a height where Caspian grabbed hold of him and pulled him to his feet. He was dirty and bruised, blood pouring form a small cut on his forehead as a black eye formed slowly on the left of his face as his upper lip swelled but there was a sparkle of defiance in his eyes still that Caspian inwardly cheered. He gave the boy a light shove to stand beside him as Amon stepped into the middle of the guards to chastise them as was his right. Caspian had learned swiftly that this place, like all businesses, ran on a hierarchy of value. Caspian wouldn’t have dared intervene when he had first arrived, thinking he was lowest on the totem pole, however he had learned since that skilled craftsmen that were necessary, like Amon, were far harder to find and replace than a few thugs in tights like the three before him. Caspian was just above the guards himself but having Amon here put the whole situation down in a moment. He would have to thank his mentor in the very near future. β€œYou three, there, what do you think you’re doing?” a voice called form the seating section above; a voice that sent a chill running down Caspian’s spine.

Looking up Caspian felt a cold rush of fury well inside of him as he saw the breastplate of the captain of the guard, the leader of these three thugs, and the only person that Caspian had met in his life yet that he could honestly say he hated with his very soul. The guards looked expectantly at Amon and his pupil, waiting for them to answer their bosses call, though Amon seemed unconcerned as his grin grew wider. After a few moments of mock silence, the crowd was still watching the fight intently oblivious to the tension at the rear of the Colosseum in the β€˜back stage’ of it, Amon smiled cheekily at the guards and gestured to their captain, β€œHe means you!” looking up to find their boss glaring angrily at them the guards began to babble excuses and explanations to their commander who just grew visibly more aggravated by the moment.

β€œShut it! Get back to your stations now!” he commanded. With a swift snap and a sprint away the guards obeyed, fleeing their defeat in due haste.

Amon chuckled to himself as he came over to Caspian, avoiding the glare that the Captain shot off in their direction, β€œThanks β€˜or the hand, Vin!” he called over his shoulder to the man who jut grunted. Amon took the bracer still held in Caspian’s hand and gave it a once over, β€œYa sure did a number on it, eh?” he handed the piece back to Caspian and looked to the two boys, β€œGo ge’ her fixed then, an’ you, give β€˜em a hand!” Amon ordered to Caspian and the slave. Relief filled Caspian’s mind but he would not show it before Vin. Turning and looking at the slave boy he motioned him forward toward the forge and walked behind the boy who was limping, gently guiding the tired youth with a hand on the back, he was shivering. Amon turned to converse with the man on the balcony, β€œThanks again, Vin.”

β€œWatch that boy o’ yours, Amon, you won’t always be around and I can’t be held accountable for what those idiots do when their prides hurt.”

β€œTheir pride? Or yours?”

The conversation continued but Caspian caught no more of it. Once they reached the forge he moved the boy to beside the bellows, β€œWhat’s your name?”

β€œN-Nomire.” The boy replied, still wheezing. β€œTh-ugh-thanks for the help.” He managed.

Caspian shrugged as he pumped the bellows twice before retrieving another sheet of metal with his tongs, β€œI only wish I’d been there sooner. Anyway, I can’t just let you lie down, those three will be watching, you going to have to work for a bit.” He looked sheepishly to the young boy who nodded between deep breaths, crestfallen but understanding, β€œAfter that I’ll try and get you some good food, and maybe find someone to mend your wounds a bit. Just hang in there.” He encouraged. The boy’s face lit up, slightly, at the thought of decent food. One of the perks of his station was Caspian and his master were not tied to this hell hole, they were free, unlike the others.; Unlike this boy; Unlike that girl had been. As the boy got to work stoking the fire, his think arms struggling to lift the coal and press the bellows Caspian could stop himself form remembering his first week at the Colosseum nearly a half a year past now. He glanced at Vin, still conversing with Amon, and his fury returned. An image was burned into his mind, shoving the dream from his mind and the voices from his head. All he heard was that last gasp, all he saw was that crimson red, and all he felt was that cold hand. Placing the white hot plate against the shield once again he turned to his work and placed an image of that day, of Vin’s blank expression onto the steel. He brought his hammer down.

Klang!

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Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn
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The lids of a pair of eyes open in the dim cell which a lone soul occupies. A barely burning torch illuminates the room to reveal that it holds nothing but a bit of hay, and a chamber pot. Well...'chamber pot' would be the term she is instructed to call her bucket by her keeper. If she calls it 'the shit bucket', like she originally did, she gets...well, she suddenly does not feel like calling it how she naturally would anymore...

"...Whoa.." the voice echoed from her lips and around the vacant room. All except for the elf huddled on the floor with her back to the wall.
That could not have been a dream, could it? It certainly appeared to be a dream but it felt...different. It felt much more real than any other before and she could remember it too. All of it; every word, in fact, as if she just experienced it in the world of the conscious. How often does an event such as that happen in a lifetime? Certainly not often. Once? Maybe? What was different about this dream, though? It certainly took place in a bar so that is fairly normal for the imprisoned elf.

Was that Hans I saw there?

Hans Holst was a friend of her's. He helped out at a local tavern in a nearby major city and was one of the few people she had felt she could truly speak with. At least, before she got into the mess she obviously so is in right now...

She never dreamed of him, so that was a little unusual but nothing really strange. But, then it hit her what was completely unlike her in that dream!
She ordered a drink and FORGOT about it.

That settled it. It had to be, indeed, a dream like every other dream before it. It was way too inaccurate to be anything special.
The girl on the stone floor could not help, however, but feel bugged by it all the same...

The elf sits up. Her skin a delicate tan; her hair and eyes matching as brown and dark brown-respectively. Her tattered rags (or 'garb', as she is to call them) passing off for clothes fall uncomfortably on her shoulders as she sits up and forces her to adjust them to a somewhat less uncomfortable position. This is Danaria Feyn. A somewhat small package but do not let it fool you, she was once the infamous sell-sword, known on the outside as 'The Drunkard of Kes' for her heritage as a native to the Principality of Kes and a Tlamani elf-usually a very reserved and sober people. Now, she is simply known as:

"Thing! Chow!"

"Aye," she replied to her master behind the door as the food hit the deck. The dark-skinned Sivyne on the other side was Zilindar Kail, Danaria's master. A sadist by narrative of his subjects and one that lacked any house slaves for help with caring for his handful of fighters. All because he enjoys being the one to care for them. It allows him to micromanage...

"Master, do I have your permission to consume chow?" The food suddenly slides forward and becomes accessible.

...and instill as much discipline as he can.

As he moves down the center, passing out food to the other fighters, Kail begins addressing them at once. Mean while, dropping the rations and pushing them forward once the voices in the cells request his permission to eat.

"Good morning, fighters!"..."Master, may I consume chow?"..."Hope you had a good rest because we've got fights and practices! Like a whole new day! Isn't that great?!"

"Great, sir," everyone seemed to mindlessly respond.

Nobody shows much enthusiasm behind their forced answers. It is a normal day like any other. Practice all day if you do not have a scheduled fight and, if you do, sit out until after your fight. If you survive, you train with the others upon return while trying your best to avoid being noticed by Kail and his whip. He seemed to have some kind of unhealthy obsession with finding a fighter that he considered unruly and then punishing them for it. It was his way to keep everyone in line,
and it worked...

"We already had an early fight today, if you hadn't noticed Tumhathil was missing for a short time this morning. He went to hunt his own breakfast. Because he is actually worth something to me...."Master, may I have your permission to consume chow?"...Our lucky winners today are-in order from first to last: Pup-Chow, Riler, Viktommer, Boy, and Butch brings up the end with our final fight and one of the last ones. Great, Butch, we get to see you doing nothing ALL DAY today! Don't worry, you'll probably be bored so I'll be sure that you are occupied!"

Most get nicknames in the colosseum, and Kail's fighters were no exception, but he does not often like the names given to his fighters; these names which instill a sense of pride in those who own it. So, Kail does it differently. While some of his fighters have nicknames for specific reasons, they only seem to be the result of negative events or aspects of their lives. Even if they have a gladiator name, they are not to be called by it in the presence of their master. For example: 'Pup-Chow' got his from taking a rather harsh series of bites while facing off against two hyenas in the arena. 'Boy', earned his by standing up to Kail after he referred to him as 'boy' and he took offense. 'Butch'...

Danairia sighs at the news, "Aye, master..."

Butch was Danairia's name to Kail, though he more pronounces is as 'BΓ»tch'. She had earned it when she was called a bitch in training by her sparring partner. Having only recently started being broken by Kail, she felt way too stressed to deal with the guy and was not yet deprived of the majority of her dignity. She ended up being noticed when she won and proceeded to beat the man well past submission and into the floor. From then on, she was BΓ»tch to him and, for her first fight, given a machete that somewhat resembled a cleaver which Kail had happened to stumble across the day before at the blacksmith.

"The fun begins shortly, things!"

The crowd seemed to roar in delight to the man's comments, even if it was a fight going on before them. Thoom, the air roars as a flail of iconic proportions slams into the earth.

At least Black Hammer's having fun...

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to Port of Opynonias

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Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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Raikyyn jerked awake to the sound of the ship's bell ringing. They had reached port.

Finally, I can get off of this dreadful boat. Oh, I ache for land.

The assassin, aliased as a traveling merchant, rose from the bed- or, cot -within his cabin. He only wore loose breeches to sleep, as was usual for him, and his lean muscles rippled as he stretched the sleep from his body. After cracking his neck, he stood, and began to clothe himself.

Breeches, shirt, chestpiece, guards, bracers, boots, cloak. Even while disguised as a merchant (and in a brown cloak, no less), Raikyyn wore his armor underneath his cloak. Granted, in this day and age it wasn't odd to see individuals in armor, but he kept his tucked under the cloak just to be safe.

Raikyyn gathered his things (of which there were many), and made his way up to the main deck of the ship. As he arrived in the sunlight of the day, he noticed that they were just beginning to dock. Timing as impeccable as ever, Raikyyn chuckled to himself.

The "merchant" hauled his belongings across the ship, and onto the port. "Excuse me, sir, need a name for the registry," a dock worker informed Raikyyn. "Tsamuus Araan, merchant arriving for business," the assassin told the dockhand. His alias had to have to have a name, of course. Tsamuus also had a touch of legitimate business items and ledgers on hand just in case suspicion came his way.

The dockhand waved him on, and Raikyyn continued down the port into the city.

My, my, Opynonias is as grand as they say. At least on the surface. Every city has it's own darker shades, but where to look? Raikyyn puzzled.

Regardless, the elf made his way through the city streets until he reached his destination, a small inn in the middle of the town. Inconspicuous, out of the way, and just the right price for a merchant to stay for a while. Raikyyn entered the building, waded through the barfront lower floor of the inn, and found the Innkeep. "Tsamuus Araan, here for my room," Raikyyn told the Keep. The burly man nodded, accepting the pouch of gold (counting it, of course), and gave Raikyyn his room key.

The ashen-skined elf made his way up the stairs, noting bits of chatter within the bar.

"Did you see the last fight?"
"Oh, it was great!"
"Who fought?"
"The Black Hammer!"
"I missed the Black Hammer?!"

At this point, Raikyyn had entered his room, locked his door, and left earshot of the conversation. He placed his bags on the bed, and began opening and sorting everything within them. Within one bag resided the necessary papers and items for his cover, should he need them. Within another, his black and red cloak, sheathes, belts, pouches. Within the last, his "tools" (poisons, and the like).

As the assassin organized himself and his belongings, he pondered the dream he had had the night prior. A tavern, a woman, it was distorted, blurred now. Pieces he remembered, but others he had lost. Probably just bad ale, or seasickness, Raikyyn thought to himself.

No matter, this dream shouldn't impose on my mission. But how to guarantee a way into the depths of the Colosseum?

The setting changes from Port of Opynonias to Colosseum of Opynonias

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
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"Hey, Magus. Got a letter for you and a gift from an admirer," a boy interrupted Antius' previous musings by shoving a scrap of parchment in his face before he set down a bottle of wine. The boy was a slave who had the fortune to be employed as a messenger by the powers that be. His name escaped the young Mage, not that it really mattered much. He smiled slightly at the gift and roll of parchment. It wasn't uncommon for people to shower their favorite gladiators with gifts: coin, spirits, women, men, etc. It was still strange that the same crowd that booed him and railed for his own death now saw him as a sort of hero or something. Such was the life of a gladiator, he mused.

"Thank you, my friend," he began, but the messenger had already left to attend to his other deliveries. As he opened up the scrap of parchment, he felt his heart compress at the familiar handwriting.

Antius,

I am sorry that I was unable to meet with you when it happened. I confess that I was too afraid to meet with you. No one wants to be named a traitor. I realize now that it was a mistake. I am being hunted and I do not know where else to turn. I need your help. I am hiding near the port, but I can't stay long. If you can use this to escape and find me, please do. In the name of our past friendship.

Lir Syoelle


Lir had been a bright spot in his life at the Academy of Aetumnas. Brilliant, clever, and powerful, and stunningly beautiful, he had been smitten, but before he could voice his feelings, his family had fallen from grace and he had been reduced to a form of glorified slavery that he had been unable to escape. But now she needed his help.

He picked up the bottle and sniffed it, inhaling a bittersweet odor that he knew was familiar, but couldn't place just where he smelled it before. He examined the label on the bottle, smiling slightly when he saw two elegantly drawn rune of a man and the sun. Things suddenly clicked into place.

Lir, you magnificent bitch.

Magi's Bane was a powerful elixir banned for a very good reason in the Empire. After ingesting it, a Mage could gain inhuman levels of mana and mastery for 12 hours in exchange for a single year of life and a violent bodily reaction reminiscent of the body purging itself of years of alcohol. In addition, it would kill anyone without adequate mana. It was a high-risk, high-reward concoction and not one he would have been willing to try in his previous life.

He shook the bottle experimentally, hearing the liquid swish around inside the bottle. Enough for a single glass.

Well, he was going to need to escape soon, preferably this very night, but he couldn't do it alone. Magi's Bane would give him enough of a boost to break through the wards and barriers keeping gladiators from leaving the amphitheater, but his magic would be unstable and he wouldn't get that far before the penalty kicked it.

He needed allies. It was a good thing he happened to be in a place filled with deadly fighters.

The setting changes from Colosseum of Opynonias to Province of Opris

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
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A group of imperial soldiers rested at a tavern that sat on the old road from Teldair to Opynonias for the midday meal. A few patrons were there, but for the most part, the company of soldiers occupied most of the day's business. They intended to reach the city of Opynonias before nightfall.

Captain Markath headed the small company of men. In his counsel belonged two lieutenants and a mage, Miss Ada Capet, who came strictly on an Academy-related assignment. The objective of which seemed pertinent enough to their own mission that Chancellor Isidore approved of the mage departing with them. They were appointed as escorts for their esteemed guest at the last minute, but the captain would retain the final word in all matters with the exception being Miss Capet's own business.

The captain and his counsel sat separately from the rest of the men-at-arms, wishing to remain at peace while they discussed matters not of concern to any common soldier.

The magus imbibed a small pint of ale, she seemed to have the tolerance for drink equal to that of any other man.

Then she spoke, "We sent word to a local thieves' guild to have someone watch the magus, should the girl attempt to make contact with him."

The captain scratched his beard and eyed another soldier sipping some of the barley soup and tearing at a small chop of lamb from the one that was roasting over a fire when they first came in.

He looked down at his piece of seasoned lamb, and somehow it did not seem as appealing to him as the one that the private chewed on until the very last morsel. The assurances of the cook did not assuage him, but perhaps he felt bothered by something else.

He forced it down anyway, before he returned to the other senior members in his company seated around him, "Can we trust them?"

The Academy agent responded, "Never, but if you are asking of their competence...they have produced some of the finest killers in the land."

"Just give the word," the magus pretended to slice her throat with her thumb, "We could kill two birds with one stone," the magus pined, her lips looked as red as the ale in her pint, which had nearly disappeared by that point.

"We want him alive, Miss Capet. Whatever you do with the girl is none of my concern," the captain finished chewing a piece that felt surprisingly tender.

Then he downed a bit of the ale, also surprisingly pleasant. He made a note to himself to return here once he completed his assignment and went on leave.

"However, you have yet to reveal to me the nature of your venture. As a captain of the Imperial army, that has me concerned. What bothers me even moreso is the use of assassins. It tempts me to ask what of the girl and her significance?"

Despite the Chancellor's notion that he need not know about the particulars of the mage's own mission as long as it was sanctioned, Markath felt ill at ease to have taken on the role of a chaperone.

"Worry not, Captain, I am here on the authority of the Chancellor and the Academy," she swirled the last bit of ale, "Were it not for those reasons, I would have spoken clear my intentions. Regarding the girl, these matters are highly confidential. They require the utmost in discretion. So I can only give you my due apologies."

She finished the last of the ale and promptly left to chat with the soldiers outside, Markath sensed her apprehension in completing her mission. A feeling that any career soldier, Markath among them, understood. He would have to accept that she would not speak of it until it was completed, or perhaps not at all. He had his own assignment to think of.

As soon as she disappeared from their sights, one of Markath's lieutenants spoke up. The wooden spoon clunked against the bowl as he had just finished his soup.

"Lieutenant Gabeil and the advance guard are expected to have arrived in Opynonias by now."

"Bah, nae doobt eager tae fin' th' nearest pleasure hoose. A day's march oan foot ayeways was a bit much fur 'at man's girly ankles," the other lieutenant laughed.

The captain wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and let his lieutenants finish their meals.

"We mustn't tarry much longer then. We head out after the midday meal is finished."

The setting changes from Province of Opris to Universe of Skaerra

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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Caspian banged away at the shield, nearing completion on his work, as his mentor Amon returned from speaking with the guard lieutenant. The fight sounded like it had ended, rather decisively in fact, and people were pouring from the stands. As Amon pasted his apprentice he reached up and gave the lad a good smack upside his head. "Ow!"

"Ya need ta learn ta pick ya battles better, Cas," Amon scolded, "have ya given thought ta what those guys are gonna do ta tha' boy because ya in'ervened?" The man sighed and looked at Nomire who was pumping on the bellows at the time. Actually it looked more like he was just raising himself up and falling onto the press whenever his shaking legs finally stopped supporting his weight.

Caspian was silently running his hand over the shield on his smithy "I couldn't just watch. I tried, Sir, I really did. But I couldn't just watch another kid die." He finally breathed with his head hung slightly at an unknowable shame from his past. Amon sucked his teeth. Tsk

"You're just like ya da, he woulda been a n officer in the army if he hadn' gotten in that fight with tha' useless captain!" He chastised before snatching the shield from his protoge, "Eh, ya got his hammer lines toox" he glanced at the slave boy who was crouched on the ground nursing a bruise on his side, "go on, boy, better take tha' kid to Magus, he might help ya. I'll finish the shield." Amon commented, motioning for Caspian to move. The young man didn't argue and went to help the injured boy to his feet. Amon gestured to a sack beneath his station, "Take tha' seasoned meat ya ma sent with ya as payment." He suggested. CaspIan agreed and grabbed the bag as well as giving the boy a hoist to his feet and leading him down. The passage into the bowels of the Colosseum.

Stopping a messenger running by Caspian found out where the man called Magus was, the mess, and headed down to find him. He'd have taken the boy to the infirmary but there was no way a place meant to treat customers and gladiators would help a lowly house slave. But the man called Magus was an experienced magic user and Caspian hoped he'd know enough healing magic to be of use.

Finding the man seated in the hall Caspian lead the boy over and cleared his thorat, "uh, excuse me, Magus?" He called, unsure of how to approach the man. Unlike other gladiators who had to spend hours at the smithy getting equipment prepared a mage needed less aide from Caspian or his mentor, though he did know the man. Or rather he knew of him.

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to Colosseum of Opynonias

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper
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Vadania scowled at the sound of the Sivyne's rough voice. It reminded her of an alleyway mutt that thought too highly of himself because he had acquired an abundance of mangy bitches. A minuscule smirk spread across the dark-skinned elf's face.

That mutt didn't taste half bad.

She instinctively crept back into the shadows of her cell. Her dark complexion allowed her to easily blend into the natural color of the grimy bricks. Vadania stowed away her lockpick and swiveled her pointed ears towards the man's grating voice. The dull throbbing in her head slowly faded as she focused.

Vadania's scowl returned as she listened. Fighters? Practices? She fidgeted with the thin sackcloth that had replaced her formidable leather cuirass. The slaver's babbling proved to be foreboding to the thief. While Vadania had expected to one day wake up in a prison cell after one of her nightly escapades, this took her completely by surprise. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair, shaking both real and imaginary dirt loose. Vadania remembered that there was a colosseum in this city. It was a prime hunting ground for deep pockets and heavy purses that she had visited a few times.

Something had apparently gone wrong with her booking, and some dirty guard had dropped her in this cesspit rather than a cozy city jail with a bed and guaranteed three meals a day...

Who exactly did she piss off this time?

None of that mattered, however. Vadania took a calming breath. The plan was still the same. She would break out of the cell, strangle the location of her gear from one of the guards, find said gear, and high-tail it out of the city. Maybe she could stow away on a ship?

"Thing! Chow!" the man's slurring scream shattered her train of thought.

"Excuse me?" she lanced the slaver with an icy glare as her lips parted in a snarl. "What did you just call me?!"

He did not just say what she thought he said...

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Character Portrait: Ya'weh
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#, as written by Tyce
Ya'weh, being an instructor of gladiators, could be found where she always was: The training grounds. Not only did she train herself daily, she trained the new "recruits," and helped improve the fighting of those that made it. She was fond of her "freedom," being able to hold weapons and train so many different interesting people, to hear their stories and to be respected, at least from the perspective and worthiness of a slave. The hardest part of her job had been watching some of the most wonderful people she had ever met fight a fight she knew they could never win.

"Ya'weh?" she turned to see a young and exceptionally brilliant woman as she walked by. "I'm up, if you'd like to watch," she spoke solemnly.
"Dear, I must train a few more gladiators today, in fact they should be starting soon. But know I am there with you in spirit. And may Father Death bless you with a little more life today." They smiled weakly at each-other and the woman continued to the arena. Ya'weh knew today would be her last, and in fact had no one to train. She just had bonded so quickly with the girl that she couldn't bear to watch her breathe her last breath.
"Death, please let Zoni pass from this life quickly, and without torture, and may she forgive me for lying. I just cannot stand to see another die," she quietly prayed. She then unsheathed her mere club and begun beating on the training dummy...

"Stop fighting or we will be forced to kill you," the guard yelled at Ya'weh in the village market. It would be hard to know to a stranger that that was where they were currently. Ya'weh had her Urumi sword unsheathed and was raging. As she looked around all she saw was death and destruction. Friends and stand owners laid where they had been slain. There was at least six men and four women who looked highly experienced in the savagery of murder surrounding her. She was outpersoned and had no idea if they had abilities. She was confident she could take out at least four of them, but at the cost of her own life? She sheathed her weapons and allowed herself to be roughly bonded. She was thrown into the back of a caged wagon with some other survivors. She had given up, not fought for her home, so she could not bear to make eye contact. The wagon slowly received a few more prisoners and they took off down the trail out of her village. They drove past her families home. Ya'weh looked at the desecration of her families estate. Burnt to the ground. She noticed one more thing: Every member of her family, naked, battered, bloody and dead, hanging from the big tree in the front of her home. That image would burn into her brain and haunt her. She looked until they were out of view as a reminder that Death only takes who he needs to the afterlife, and she better be damned ready when he comes for her...
"Ya'weh!" Zoni said quite perturbed.
Ya'weh was nearly physically exhausted, and her mana pool seemed empty. She had destroyed not one, not two, but three training dummies but doesn't recall anything after first hitting the dummy. She turned and looked at the girl with the biggest smile she could muster. She gave her a kiss on the forehead and whispered, "May death continue to want you here, beautiful."
Ya'Weh walked back to her chambers to sleep and rest her body. She had a big fight the following day, and if she won, she would be one step closer to her freedom.

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Character Portrait: Huo
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Thoom. Huo managed to push himself from the ground and tumble to the side inches from where the blow struck the dirt. He watched as it struck the same spot where his head would have been pulpified.

The crowd roared, ecstatic at having their expectations for blood circumvented by this performance.

Huo's gaze darted to the Black Hammer who began reeling the flail back into his grip as fast as he could. He staggered about, balancing the weight of his hammer against his own.

The fist fighter pulled himself from the ground only a few yards away from his opponent. He lunged at the Niessen once again, a fist unsheathed to uppercut his foe across the jaw and send him unconscious.

The Niessen fell back several steps while dragging his mace toward him. His grip tightened on the chains as he coiled them once around his fists, expecting to be fighting in close quarters.

Huo threw a jab that the Black Hammer countered just as quick with his hammer coming in from the right. Huo caught the move out of the corner of his eye and lurched back, but he knew he would not avoid the blow entirely.

He tore off focus from striking his opponent into willing the Flow and shunting its energy into a shield that would brace the hit.

The crowd lost it, they were out for blood. The impact shoved Huo several feet away, he rolled to the side with a knee and fist to the ground. He would have to make up for the distance lost once more.

The use of Flow required a breath, he could smell the first sweat droplets form. Though his body remained without bruises, his gauntlet looked nearly battered, such is the power of Flow. He felt the wound just above his rib from a previous fight starting to flare up.

He tasted a bit of blood and realized that he bit his lip during the impact. He gritted his teeth and his eyes flashed in frustration. No longer, could he hold back, good sportsman or not, he needed to end it.

The heat of the sun and the dirt and the many bodies packed in the colosseum bore on him. The screams, the cheering, the roaring, vibrated and dulled his senses all at once.

Time was running out. Huo darted at the Niessen again. The Black hammer struck the ground once, Huo sidestepped that, twice, sidestepped again, thrice, sidestepped that until he was within striking distance.

Huo leapt at his opponent and threw three slugs, one at his chest, one at his lower torso, and one at his chin. The Black Hammer raised the chains of his hammer to intercept, but only managed to block the last of the combination, forcing the fist fighter back unto a knee again.

The Black Hammer winded up his swing, but Huo, once again on his feet, forged toward him. They had to keep the pace of the battle alive, otherwise the crowd might turn sour and make some lanistas angry. Madame Phrina was a generous soul, but it could be the end of any favors he expected from her. Best he kept on her good side, if he survived this fight to do so.

Just as his wound and his fatigue dragged him down, he observed the Black Hammer trying to maintain his fading grip on the mace. He wasn't the only one getting tired.

Huo danced within striking distance, the Black Hammer seemed poised to unleash a final blow, and Huo readied a fist likewise. The Black Hammer only had distance. However, up close without the full capability of his weapon, he stumbled about like a drunk dwarf.

Huo bolted across the dirt toward his enemy. The Black Hammer retreated again, but not fast enough now. He raised his flail and just as he was about to release it in Huo's direction, the fist fighter vaulted in mid air and unleashed a small burst of fire directly at the Niessen's face.

The flames dissipated briefly, only a feint. It was enough to break the Hammer's focus. Huo charged at him, readying his punch, allowing the Flow to coarse its way to his clenched fist.

He could feel the energy drain from other parts of his body, but none of that mattered. Not the pain of his wound, nor the salted sweat, nor the screams and cheers of the crowd that fell deathly silent in his mind.

Time slowed, as it always had. The crowd fell silent, but only for a few seconds. Only one fighter remained standing in the arena, and he had battered gauntlets.

-

Up high in the stands, Madame Phrina and Dhaxi perched in the middle section sitting not too high where slaves and others of the servile class watched, and not too low where the aristocrats sat for fear of having to mingle with acquaintances. They looked like any other ordinary couple, blending considerably well. It helped their cause that the fight engrossed the audience for any to recognize the owner of the colosseum and to a lesser extent, the successful lanista and merchant that accompanied her.

"Your boy, he shows continual improvement," Phrina glanced at the slavemaster amidst the rapturous crowd.

Dhaxi replied, "His attitude could be helped, though. A few lashes may break him yet."

His gaze shifted to the Niessen, who laid on the ground appearing lifeless, but not departed from life. If Dhaxi were his slaverowner, he would have let him die in that pit there. Other gladiator trainers and slavemasters were no different, in the end their "fighters" were just chattel.

Phrina stared at Dhaxi for a brief moment, her eyes fell upon the Niessen as well.

She smiled, "Come, my stomach grows restless and the masses will clog the departure thoroughfare. I heard you hired new cooks."

The setting changes from Colosseum of Opynonias to Universe of Skaerra

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Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Ya'weh Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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Raikyyn Duarn, under the alias of "Tsamuus Araan", made his way into the cities Colosseum. He had to at least learn the basic layout for his mission, provided he hadn't failed due to timing.

If the information is true, she's a slave here. He is, too, but he is not my primary target.

The assassin surveyed the arena, the stands, and what he could see of the pits under the stands. Large, circular, most likely multi-storied. The slaves and other fighters should be kept below the stands, free men usually separated from the slaves, training, eating, sleeping quarters would all be underground partially. Posing as a guard would be easy, but I couldn't guarantee someone wouldn't notice me. I'm not risking becoming a slave myself, so I'll have to be a free challenger, Raikyyn laid out his plan, double-checking all of the details within his mind.

Raikyyn weaved through the crowd towards a guarded door, the crowd currently brewing over a fight that had just finished. Raikyyn believed he had seen the victor, or at least caught a glimpse of him. His attention turned back to the door, and the two guards outside of it, that he was nearing.

"Excuse me, I'd like to become a challenger for this arena," the Duuthesh informed the two guards, who chuckled slightly to themselves. "You think yer gonna be the nex' best fighter o' this arena?" one of the guards asked. Before Raikyyn caught himself he had replied, "A better fighter than you guardsman, at least."

The guards did not take well to Raikyyn's prodding.

"Oi, we outta throw in the cell for that, you cheeky son of-" the guard was cut off by his friend, "Now, now, let's take him to Ya'weh, and see what she says of 'im."

One guard, the brash one, stayed behind to fulfill his post, his reasonable friend led Raikyyn to another door, down several flights of stairs, and pointed him down a hallway. "There ye are, If Ya'weh's anywhere, it'll be there," the guard informed Raikyyn, who nodded in appreciation.

As Raikyyn entered the room, he noted a small handful of people training with the dummies, three of them completely destroyed, but no trainer. Well, I'm sure this Ya'weh is busy, the assassin thought. He approached one of the people training. "Excuse me, could you point me towards the blacksmith?" Raikyyn asked.

The slave turned around, and proceeded to eye Raikyyn greedily. "And who might ye be to 'ave business wit da smiddy?" he asked. "That's none of your concern, I just want to speak with him," Raikyyn replied, noticing a small group of four others approaching.

"Well, see 'ere mista, I don't right remember where he be. But ye look like someone with coin. Spare some my way, and it might jus' jog my mem'ry. Else, ye'll jus' be anodda kill in this 'ere arena," the slave chuckled, and his friends laughed with him.

"Say, you're a funny guy," Raikyyn began, "So how about a game?" The assassin undid his cloak and let it fall to the floor. He grasped a coin pouch on his belt, saying, "This is where I keep some of my coin. Your friends have already eyed some other places. If you manage to grab the pouch, you keep all the money inside. But when you grab, I hit you back. Wanna play?"

The slaves eyed Raikyyn for a moment.
The one in front made a grab.

Raikyyn finished putting his cloak back on, and left the training room, five slightly conscious, groaning slaves laying on the floor.

Down the hall past a few doors, hang a right, and it should be there. Funny how cooperative people can be with the right persuasion.

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to Colosseum of Opynonias

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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It seemed that he was popular today, Antius noted wryly as a bruised and beaten boy was brought into his presence by a man he struggled recognize. The man carrying him was a blacksmith, if he remembered correctly. Casper, he thought his name was. He said nothing as he sat the boy next to him.

"Uh, excuse me, Magus?"

He raised an eyebrow and did a small diagnostic spell on the boy with a tap on his forehead. He sighed, "Ran afoul of the thugs who they call guards nowadays, haven't you? You are fortunate. There are no broken bones. How many fingers am I holding up?"

He wiggled his fingers in front of the boy. He seemed dazed, but attentive enough. Good.

"Three," he whispered. Antius nodded in satisfaction and place a glowing hand on his forehead. With a thrush, a bit of magic went out from him and into the boy, soothing pain, removing bruises, and speeding up the healing process. The boy looked to be close to falling asleep, a normal reaction to his injuries and Antius' magic.

"He will need to rest. Come, my quarter should to be suitable enough and on the way, we can talk about my payment," Antius told him with a slight grin as he stood up, bottle in hand.

"I happen to be in need of a blacksmith's services," he continued as he made his way to his quarters or cell, depending on how you looked at it. When he was sure no one was there to overhear them, his voice dropped to a whisper, "A slave will not last long here, particularly not one as malnourished as this boy of yours. Not unless he escapes. And an escape requires people and people require locks unlocked. Do you understand me?"

The setting changes from Colosseum of Opynonias to Port of Opynonias

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Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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Lir rested at an inn near the port. She sat off to the corner on the lower floor in a room separated from the dining hall. She combed through a tome, reciting incantations that she no longer had the leisure to study in a library in solitude. However, being on the run had taught her to be quick with her wits. She practiced everyday, it made her keener, sharper than the average, complacent Academy student her age. Her meditation was cut short by her curious eavesdropping.

She overheard a pair of patrons talking about a fight that took place earlier in the day.

"Aye, 'at Feld'n claw'd th' other wun's face wi' its baur paws," the first man finished his mug.

The second man appalled, "Indeed? And that's what they call a fair fight?"

"Faer ur nae, dun matt tae meh. 'Twas a sight."

Every so often, she cast a wary glance at the various guests coming in and out of the tavern for any suspicious fellows. Lir could only sit and wait, but that was a dead man's game.

Or in her case, dead woman's game.

The open road proved ever perilous with sellswords sent to kill her. She knew the Academy was behind this, they wanted to keep things quiet, the things that she had seen. She managed to foil the attempts on her life on numerous occasions.

She disappeared wherever she went thus far, but she could never stay at any one place for too long. Mages always smelled of magic, and prodigal mages stunk of magic. She left as big a trail as any other, and her appearance was what some might call distinguished. Her hood could only cover so much of her hair.

Her hair smelled like nothing on some days. On other days it smelled of the mud and garbage that she hid in while witnessing an assassin dismember an innocent man in her place.

All of this running and fleeing made her long for her home, long for the days when her hair smelled of lilacs. That had vanished now. She was sure. Her mother and father may have already suffered a fate all too familiar to the one soul she chose to reach out to.

Antius Geminus was rumored to be a pit fighter in the colosseum of Opynonias, at least that was the news when she last heard of him.

She remembered him as a gifted mage and a friend during their early Academy days. She had the impression that he liked her, but he never said anything about such feelings which made her believe that he only viewed them as friends.

When the University of Magic accepted her, she thought they would admit him as well. Things were never so simple, for she knew nothing of the enemies that Antius's father, Senator Geminus of Agora, had made at court.

One day Antius disappeared without a word, she discovered his exile and his family's execution from another friend. The same friend who had since died by the Academy's hands for the same reasons that assassins were pursuing Lir.

She heard the locals speak of a fighter who went by the name 'Magus of the Gemini'. If Antius Geminus was still alive and fighting in a pit, then perhaps this fellow was him.

She felt a mix of emotions though. Fear that she could have mistaken the 'Magus of the Gemini' to be her friend, for anybody could have such a cryptic alias. If it was Antius, then she felt anxiety that he might not help her. She had few friends or family left, it would be her alone. No matter though, the next ship for Khi'ir would depart on the morrow. A loquacious captain had already secured her spot aboard the ship.

And if he did help her, nervousness at having to look upon his face again. The years may have worn on him, changed him. His face might be different, marred, or worse, clawed. If his appearance changed, who knows what else may have changed. But she hoped not much other than that.

The concoction she sent him, a final act of defiance against the Academy as she had stolen it from one of the alchemy chambers. If Antius was still studying magic as she had hoped, then the potion would simply be a bad hangover for him if he knew how to use it.

The setting changes from Port of Opynonias to Colosseum of Opynonias

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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Amon was working at his station, the shield done, on a sword he'd been commissioned to craft to be given to the next tournament champion. He'd make it a worthy prize. As he heated the steel in the forge he heard footsteps in the gravel he'd placed around his forge to prevent anyone sneaking up on him. Turning to see who approached he found a man with a mischievous look and darker clothing than he expected approaching . "Can I help you, sir?" He asked, not recognizing the man as a fighter.

***

Caspian was relieved when the mage responded favorably to his impertinent request. When the intuitive man made comment on the guards Caspian clenched his fist hard subconsciously, "Those bastards don't even count as high as thugs." He breathed as he stood to the side to allow the man to work.

It was not the first time that he had born witness to magic, and definatley not in this capacoty. His grandmother was capable of basic healing spells, though not much else, and had mended multiple scrapes he'd had as a young boy. Though to compare his gran to Antius was like comparing a child singing nonsense to themselves to a famous vocalist entertaining the crowds before a match. Magus was able to heal far more surface wounds in a single burst than anyone Caspian had seen to date."Thanks, you're magics pretty impressive, sir!" Caspian breathed a sigh of relief as Nomire eased at the release of the pain.

As the scholar solidly suggested that the youth be allowed to rest Caspian nodded and picked the tired child up with no real effort and followed after Antius. The man was speaking of payment and after seeing the skill and speed he had used Caspian was certain that his mother's seasoned meats was not going to be a sufficient offering. Thankfully the man was rather blunt with what he wanted; a way out.

Caspian was taken aback, stopping outside his lodging the young man looked about, wondering how he should respond. But as the now asleep boy he carried coughed and the memories of all the cruelty he'd seen in his short time at the Colosseum leaked into his mind he found his apprehension fading fast. He swallowed hard and nodded several times, each more assertive than the Las as he entered the room and placed Nomire on a straw mat, "Yeah... y-Yeah alright." The blacksmith wiped his hands on his leather apron and clasp them together, rubbing his Palma as if trying to warm his hands as he circled around to the lock on the gate.

"Guess you must be pretty popular for them to leave your cell open," he commented as he knelt to the ground to examine the lock, "but thankfully, you're not so popular as to have one of the penthouse rooms for the top fighters."

Reaching into a pouch on his side the young blacksmith produced a small chisel and a metal rod with a small hook at the end. "See, the locks up there are each handmade by my mentor and need a special key, you'd never pick 'em," Caspian said with a slight out of pride mixed to his voice as he felt along the edge of the lock, " but these, like most of the pit locks, are made by some cheapskate in the city, ouhmf!" He found a small seam on the face of the lock plate and placed his chisel against it and pryed into the small slit with a slight exertion. The plate separated from the lock box and he bent the thin metal forward easily.

" Thanks to the management cutting corners these locks are so cheap and easily made, you don't even need a key, watch," he took the plate off with a pop and slowly inserted the rod into the mechanism on the lock, "just, uhm, tell anyone you want to help you that all they have to do, oof, is this." He explained as he juggled the rod back and forth until the entire assembly fell out with a clang the bar retracting and releasing the lock. "See, easy as can be, anyone with a dagger should be able to do that." Caspian smiled to the man uneasily.

"But, uh, you know there is no closing it once you do that, notmally," he looked to Nomire to steel his resolution, "though since you, um, did such a service for him, I'll do so in kibd." He said cryptically as he put the mechanism on his lap, took out some more tolls and went to work on it. "Thus should make it so your lock will appear to seal, but one good shove should get it unstuck."

The process of jerry rigging the lock took a few moments in which time Caspian became aware of a possible painful silence between them. Swallowing again he looked up at the man before continuing his work, "Say, uh, Sir Magus... mind if I ask you a question, what with you being a scholar and all?" He requested, "Do you know any reason behind someone having the same strange dream over and over again?"

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Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper
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The man ever so slightly leans forward, staring at the elf in a playful wickedness with a wide-eyed, yet expressionless, look before not-so-quietly whispering through the bars, "Thing...Chow..."
There was no discussion about it. Kail simply did not care what Vadania thought of him. His and his words suggested he saw little more than a worthless animal but his eyes told of neither; that there simply was nothing before him. Everything in his stance suggested a lion's tamer in a traveling circus though he was speaking to a woman in a cell...a lion's cage...

The other fighters were quiet. Not just because they were allowed to chat among themselves, but they wanted to hear what was happening.

Here we go again...

Danairia knew what was going to happen next. It often takes time to break down potential fighters because their ever-so-pleasant owner only picks who he hears of or sees potential in for fighting. That usually results in what he describes as a 'belligerent little thing' and a lot of resistance but they always eventually break.
They always...eventually break...

The only one who never seemed to actively pay attention to the first chow was Tumhathil, a hulking fighter of the race known as the 'Felindin', a people who hold an appearance of a man with a head like a lion.
Everyone else paid attention, one way or another, but the Felidin's cell never seemed to emit any noise to hint of him getting a better position to hear. The barred square opening in his own door never graced anyone with a look upon his stone face, curiously gazing out toward the door to the chamber in which the couple solitary cells were located.

Danairia can still remember when she first heard about Tumhathil...

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He just sits there...Everyone at least does something in their cells but him...He seems to not even care until he is told to prepare for a fight.

Danairia silently ponders to herself from the floor of her cell while looking underneath the opening in her door and at the cell of that Felidin.

And such a monster in the ring too. So commanding...so decisive...

Her hands clench to fist. How could someone seem to care so little about the situation he's in?

Do something-dammit.

The elf could no longer suppress her curiosity. She calls out in a rather weighted whisper, "Aye!...Psst!...Aye, Felidin!..."

One of the other fighters seems to not have been able to get to sleep because a noise, not from the lion's den but from another across from Danairia's. The man turns over on his 'linens'-Kail's word for the pile of hay making up the fighters' designated sleeping area-and quite obnoxiously vocalizes his complaint. "I swear to all made by The Creator, will you SHUT UP?!"

Danairia's expression changes to one of frustration. "-Hey!" she demands, "Cross y'legs and bite a cock like the whiny little bitch y'are-yeah??"

"Aye!...House cat!" she tries again but only finds herself interrupted by a closer voice. This one just beyond the wall next to her. "Leave the man be. If he doesn't wanna talk, he doesn't wanna talk." The statement only pushes Danairia further though. However, before she can call out again, the voice grabs her attention with something else.

"Look, it isn't because you're new that he doesn't talk to you. He does that for everyone so don't take it badly...here, I'll tell you what you probably want to know...
The one you know as 'house cat' is Tumhathil. He grew up a slave and has never been anything but passive since he got here...which has been a long time..."

Danairia's mind clears, choosing to focus most on listening to the story as she adjusts to rest her chin atop her hands.

"According to someone I knew that was here before him, Kail couldn't even break him. I mean...he didn't have to..he seemed to have already given up but not out of fear or anxiety or anything. He just...worked. He quickly became a valuable fighter and remained completely obedient. The only thing is he doesn't talk much and never has. He'll talk to you sometime, one way or another, you just gotta let 'im comerround. You'll see..."

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Eventually, long after he was killed in the ring, her neighbor was right. Tumhathil spoke to her-if only a little...but she finally did meet the man who seemed to be hiding a bit of kindness to him, even if it seemed only slight by simply sticking his arm out to prevent Danairia from running into Kail-a grave sin for one to commit.
"You'll get yourself killed like that," he had warned in a soft voice, yet it felt as if it had a kind of strength sleeping within...

But that did not matter now...now the group had a new addition...and she was about to get a brand new flavor of chow that she has probably not yet ever tasted.

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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In response to the blacksmith's comment about his cell, Antius grinned wryly, "Popular and smart enough to be compliant when moaning and running would do me no good. But now, I have a chance and a friend in need."

He sat down and watched, fascinated as Caspian got to work on his cell door. He could not help but be impressed. He would never have seen the weaknesses in his cell door himself. All he knew was that it could be locked and he didn't have the strength to yank it open like other, more securely held gladiators. He got to work writing down the other man's instructions, making sure to write an even ten copies, just incase. He doubted he'd be able to recruit so many people on such short notice, but it was best to be prepared. As he wrote, however, the other man surprised him yet again.

"Say, uh, Sir Magus... mind if I ask you a question, what with you being a scholar and all?" He requested, "Do you know any reason behind someone having the same strange dream over and over again?"

Antius paused, setting his quill down and giving Caspian his full attention.

"It depends on the dream. It could be a personal obsession, like dreaming of a traumatic event in the past or a person you have loved and lost to distance, circumstances, or death. Or, if it is of an unfamiliar subject... It could be a vision of the future or a message from... something," Antius told him, pausing in thought as he considered his own dream. Could it be connected with Lir? He clenched his fists. He needed to get out of here. Dream ore not, she was in trouble and if he did not help her, she would most likely end up dead. Still, he had to ask.

"Are you speaking of a dream you have been having yourself?"

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Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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"Can I help you, sir?" Raikyyn heard the man tending the forge ask at his approach. "Ah, yes. I was looking for a fighter who goes by the name of 'Magus of the Gemini', I have a package for him. Also I was curious if a 'Lir Syoelle' was here, I've a package for her as well," Raikyyn informed the smith as he weaved a small spell with his hand gestures that would allow him to be trusted easier.

If the smith was a mage, I would be in a very unpleasant situation right now, Raikyyn thought to himself as he walked down the hallway towards the slave quartering.

Antius is here, but Lir is not. This complicates things. Mages, especially those of his caliper, are not to be trifled with head on, I need to find him without him finding me. He'll most likely see through, or detect, any magic I use if he sees me, so I can't let him see me. And then there's the issue with Lir, as I've no idea where she is. But, she should be looking for him, so as long as I know where he is, I know where she'll try to be.

Raikyyn quickly determined that the situation was rapidly slipping more and more out of his favor. First his intelligence is wrong, his cover could easily be blown, his targets are spread out and could be anywhere in the city; he needed to get a handle on the mission, and soon.

Raikyyn had to pass through a prisoner cell area before reaching the slave quarters, Damn these guard patrols, he cursed to himself. The assassin cast a small spell that distorted his features, and made him appear moreso as a smudge on a painting than a person. Besides, none of the guards would believe a slave who said they'd seen a shadow-y figure moving through their cell block.

As Raikyyn proceeded down the hallway, he heard the eerie shuffles and noises of a group of jailed prisoners. Well, the spell won't be a comple-shit, Raikyyn pushed himself against a shadow on the wall. Feeding time for the prisoners in this area. The guard closest to him didn't look like a guard, more like a trainer. He was a large man, with dark skin and a bald head, and Raikyyn saw a whip on his belt.

I can't kill him, too many witnesses, even if they are slaves. But maybe I can distract him? He seems focused on tormenting that one...a Duuthesh? What is she doing here?

Raikyyn could feel himself growing angry. At the mission, his lack of control, this Duuthesh, the guards torment of his kind.

Don't lose it, not here, I can't here, the assassin forced his breathing to slow, forced his eyes closed. But I can't just wait for this man to leave, I have to distract him somehow...

Raikyyn looked down for a decent sized rock on the dirt floor, a search that didn't take long. He aimed, and threw the rock, bouncing it off of a corner behind the guard, which sent it clacking down the hallway.

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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Vadania snarled as she rose to her feet. How dare this human - no, this child - speak to her in such a way. She glared at him with as much venom as she could muster and hissed through gritted teeth.

"You should be more respectful of your elders, human dog." she sneered. "You might wake up with your family jewels stolen - along with your gold."

She proceeded to spit in the human's face and retreat to the back of her cell to sulk. Vadania had seen those eyes before. They were the eyes of the highborn and middle-class that always looked down upon her. Though the matron tried to shield Vadania and her orphan-siblings, Vadania could catch glimpses of the rich's scorn against her and her kind. They were without lineage - casteless - and barely worth their space in the world. Vadania saw those eyes more and more after she left the home.

She hated them.

To them - she was the filth of the streets. After all, what good were you without families, titles, and lands? She had none of those things, and so she was less than nothing. When she resorted to theft and murder to survive, she graduated from revulsion to outright hate in their feeble minds, but what did they know?

They didn't know the gnawing pain of a week without food.

They didn't know the shivering cold of winter without a bed.

They didn't know the nausea or fever of plague.

They didn't know the numbness of thinking every sunrise might be your last.

They didn't know the horror of waking up to find your lover's neck sliced open beside you.

They didn't know... nor did they care. Why should they? She was trash.

A thing.

But this thing was not fragile. It was a poisoned blade forged in fires of suffering and tempered through hardship. It - she would not be broken.

Not before I can slit his throat in his sleep...

Vadania was far too distracted by her dark thoughts to notice the sound of a stone being tossed - or to sense the shadowed figure down the hall.

The setting changes from Colosseum of Opynonias to Universe of Skaerra

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Ya'weh Character Portrait: Raikyyn Duarn
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#, as written by Tyce
Ya'weh awoke with a start. She was sweating, startled and short of breath.
What in damnation could that dream mean?
She sat up and noticed Tumhathil watching her, sitting on the floor cross-legged, with his head cocked to the left. He cracked as close to a smile as he would then sat up straight. She smiled back, took a deep breath and joined him on the floor. She grabbed his forearms and they sat together meditating. Well, Tum would meditate, Ya'weh was praying. She prayed blessings over all those she fought, those she trained, those employed by the arena. While she wasn't one-hundred percent in her non-grudge holding, she sure did try. Tum and her had bonded rather quickly, at least compared to how quickly Tum ever bonded to anyone. He was impressed by her fighting skills and leadership, while she was impressed by his ability to live each day for the day he has and his gentleness. She wouldn't classify them as physically intimate, but mentally and emotionally, especially for Tum, they were connected. She would hum while they meditated, Tum swaying very slightly to the rhythm.
Ya'weh began meditating after her prayers and started to feel physical, spiritual and emotional discomfort. Something about that dream had irked her. Reflecting upon it made her sick spiritually. She felt physically drained from her destruction of the training dummies, which she now had to go clean up. As a "leader" in the fighting world, she was the first to clean any mess made. She liked to lead by showing, not by yelling. Except the first day with new trainees. She wanted respect, so she worked for it. Her emotional discomfort was startling to her though. Her humming stopped. She opened her eyes to see Tum with one eye cracked and an eyebrow up.
"Lets continue later." He said curiously. He got up, helped Ya'weh up and left her chambers slowly.
"What is going on with me?" she whispered. "I have not been this off since I was poisoned by my opponent." She said a quick prayer of healing and turned on her ability to ease her fatigue. It came at the price of a lowered sense of smell, but she didn't mind that one bit.
As her body healed itself she entered the training grounds. It appeared there had been a skirmish of some sort. One man was still lying on the ground in pain while his friends had gotten up to tend to him and each other.
"Kilyn, what happened?" She asked with a slight irritation to her voice. While injuries were prevalent in her training area, this seemed off and given her sense of emotional turmoil she wanted answers.
"A new recruit came and he had coin on him. He wanted to see the blacksmith I believe."
She sighed, "What has my training taught you if all of you were beaten by one new fighter?" She asked with an insulting tone. "Get up and be gladiators, stop moping around."
Ya'weh jaunted to the blacksmith to see what he knew. She usually challenged herself to avoid his gravel trap but with all that had happened in the last thirty minutes, she had not time to spare...

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to Colosseum of Opynonias

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Ya'weh Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper
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A mere few moments ago, Huo was standing in the arena before a cheering crowd at the height of ecstasy. Then the giant arched double doors swung close, silencing the swell of voices and emptying the feeling. Only a hollow remained.

He dreamt a dream last night so vivid in its entirety that he could still recall certain bits of what he had seen even as he walked away from the fight. It seemed unlike other dreams where once his eyes flitted open, the visions disappeared as quickly as a feeling of elation.

It was no victory today, he knew. Dhaxi asked him to drag out that fight, he wanted the betting pools to grow larger. The Black Hammer never had a chance. It felt unfair, the match, the feigned tilt. Even if he had been with Dhaxi for awhile and knew how he ran his business, it never settled with him. Never did, and maybe never will.

-

He went into the armory, and unclasped the various buckles of his armor and began to stretch. His arms and legs felt sore underneath all of it. He could feel the Flow tingle throughout his body, but nowhere moreso than his right arm. It was bruised from when he shielded the hammer blow. It would have been a broken arm instead had he not used the Flow.

Had he ended it sooner, he might not have had any bruises. Dryness clawed his throat, he delivered his equipment to the weaponsmaster who would scrub it clean of any blood. The old man was inspecting a sword with a nearby guard.

"Duuthesh. Looks like one dun' it?"

"Looks like one o' 'em foppish pointy swords them nobles use in duels. Eh dint know those darkies used 'em."

"Mmm, belongs to that one 'er that just came. It be a damn fine sword eh?"

"Aye. Could help me cut down some fine tree branches."

They both cackled as Huo left.

-

He entered the cloakroom, observed the other fighters preparing for their bouts and shuffled over to a bowl decorated with black figures. Some of the other fighters nodded in his direction, a congratulatory sign. He cupped his hands in the bowl of water, splashed his face, then took a wool towel from one of the racks and began wiping off sweat and dirt.

He turned to an ewer of water set aside, and without thinking, he guzzled it dry, not caring whether any was left for the next fighter.

Then hunger set in.

-

With permission from their masters, fighters, the respectable ones at least, were let out of the cages to entertain what few dishes the colosseum chefs could make. Sinewy bodies packed the mess hall. Conversation clamored without halt along with the noises that accompanied meal ingestion.

The course of the day was gruel and hard boiled eggs. Huo sat alone, better to make no friends than to make fair weather ones. That was his code since his first day, anywhere. It took time for him to make friends, and that was not to say he did not have any.

There was Tumhathil.

A deep and gruff voice opened, "Good fight today, kid."

Huo looked up at the whiskers spouting from Tum's mouth and the mane that lined his solid jaw.

The Osu stared at the Felidin before returning to his food, then he grinned at the lion, "Are you expecting me to say 'thank you,' old man?"

Tum snarled, "Bah. You ungrateful punk. And I'm not that old."

Huo chuckled as Tum sat down on the other side. Tumhathil was about the only person Huo would ever joke with. Conversely the same could be said of Huo for Tum. They had a mutual understanding as warriors. Never had they ever had to face each other, and maybe that was good fortune. Friendships rarely lasted between gladiators, eventually they would be decided by the sword. Huo hoped that day never came for them.

The lion smacked his lips, "You seen Ya'weh today?"

"No," Huo's left cheek had a solid half an egg and a stuffing of gruel churning inside.

"Something troubles her," the Felidin played with his mane, picking at whatever little mites irritated him, but he was deeper in thought than anything.

Huo continued chewing as the lion spoke.

"It could be Zoni, you think those two are...?"

"Are...what?" Huo glanced at the lion, then he realized, "You know, for a Felidin you have one pretty damned si-"

"Fah," Tum dismissed him with a wave of his paw.

"What do you want me to do? Talk to her?"

"You? Talk to her? Bow before Oelne, that might make things worse."

Huo gave the lion a hard look, "So what then?"

The lion's amber eyes shifted to the Osu then back into empty space, "Something troubles you too, apparently."

Huo stared back at his almost empty bowl of gruel, "Bad dream last night."

"Dreams eh? Didn't know your kind had dreams."

"Watch it lion," a halfhearted threat as Huo wiped his mouth clean.

"I dreamt I was outside of a tavern that was marked by this creature, white in color, with the head of a woman, the body of a lion, and large wings like that of a bird."

Huo sat and wondered, while the lion was already on his feet, he stopped listening a long time ago. It was better that way, this was his dream not Tum's, and he knew Tum was no dreamreader to understand.

"Weird kind have weird dreams. Did you drink last night?"

"No?"

Huo could not determine its significance and would not attribute it to a bad drink, but Tum interrupted, "Come then, I'm thirsty. I'll buy you a drink. There's a place called 'The Luckless Maiden'."

"I need to speak with Dhaxi first on those things. He probably wants his handlers and one or two of Phrina's guards on me."

"Go ahead, I'll be waiting."

"And what about you? What's your master gonna say about this?"

"Bah," the lion beat his chest with a fist, "I'll take the heat for it later, though I'll doubt Kail will care. Who knows?"

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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Amon leaned on his table scratching his chin in tough at the odd man's question. He'd definatley not seen this guy before but that wasn't necessarily unusual. Given the man's darker attire and demenor the soldier is Amon was more suspicious if him. Here was no slave nor messenger."Hmmm, Magus, you say? Can' say I know any Lir, though."

Taking a moment to consider the situation Amon stepped toward the man and pointed down the hall, "try the mess, if someone's seen 'im they'll be t'ere assuming he's not." He advised. He was still suspicious but the man seemed alright and his old gut was too round now to be accurate at judging anything besides ale. And after all Magus could handle himself if things went pear shaped. Amon waved the traveler on and went about his work again, the traveler strangely blank from his mind.

***

Giving the gate a tug after he closed it Caspian found that he had to put more weight behind getting it open than he liked. It took all he had to want the piece free and to be honest he was slightly concerned the smaller mage might have trouble so he reopened the mechanism and set to his work again. "Well, I have nightmares from memories, I imagine all of us here do, but the dream I mentioned isn't one." He replied to the man's inquiry.

"See, in the dream that's been bugging me lately I'm at some place I've never known," he continued as he fiddled with the pins again, "but, in the dream I know it fine! It feels familiar even though when I wake I can't remember a thing about it... oh and there's this elvish girl, pretty, young-ish... I think?"

He cleared his throat and continued, "I've never been much for guessing things like that, but uh... huh, anyway she starts talking to me, I can't reallyunderstand her but she needs my help I guess. And then I see th-these objects that I've never even heard of but I know them! I think I know them... this makes no sense, huh?" He sighs as he finishes adjusting the gate and tries it again, this time confident in his craft and gestures for Magus to try it out himself.

View All »Arcs

Arcs are bundles of posts that you can organize on your own. They're useful for telling a story that might span long periods of time or space.

There are no arcs in this roleplay.

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NPCs

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NPCs

Skaerra NPCs


Skaerra NPCs

The official official NPC page of Skaerra: The Unlikely Tale.


Events

Soon™.

Game Master Controls

Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.

Arcs

Arcs are bundles of posts from any location, allowing you to easily capture sub-plots which might be spread out across multiple locations.

Add Quest » Quests

You can create Quests with various rewards, encouraging your players to engage with specific plot lines.

Add Setting » 21 Settings for your players to play in

Settings are the backdrop for the characters in your universe, giving meaning and context to their existence. By creating a number of well-written locations, you can organize your universe into areas and regions.

Navigation

While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!

Gyarazi Desert

Gyarazi Desert by VindicatedPurpose

The desert that surrounds the coastal cities of Khi'ir and Korm on the western coast of Syakh.

Seirkent

Seirkent by VindicatedPurpose

Seirkent is located further in land away from Syakh.

Hamyzadh Desert

Hamyzadh Desert by VindicatedPurpose

The Hamyzadh desert is located east of the Syakh free cities and the Sultanate of Asyral.

Daellean

Daellean by VindicatedPurpose

Daellean. Also known as The Elven Realm to outsiders.

Khi'ir

Khi'ir by VindicatedPurpose

The city of Khi'ir is a fine port city off the western coast of the continent of Syakh.

Meroan Sea

Meroan Sea by VindicatedPurpose

The Meroan Sea is a body of water that separates the southern tips of Dessor from Syakh.

The Upper Plane

The Upper Plane by VindicatedPurpose

The Upper Plane is the realm of the gods and angels.

The White Sphinx

The White Sphinx by VindicatedPurpose

The White Sphinx aptly named because of the White Sphinx creature that adorns the entrance.

Syakh

Syakh by VindicatedPurpose

The continent of Syakh is home to Sultanates and Caliphates, the free cities, and the ruins of of the Zengid Empire.

Universe of Skaerra

Universe of Skaerra by VindicatedPurpose

A creation of the One Creator.

World of Skaerra

World of Skaerra by VindicatedPurpose

Welcome to Skaerra

Dessor

Dessor by VindicatedPurpose

The continent of Dessor is home to the Empire of Dessor and the Elven Realms.

Province of Opris

Province of Opris by VindicatedPurpose

The Province of Opris, major cities include Opynonias.

Opynonias

Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

One of the major cities of the Province of Opris within the Empire of Dessor.

Colosseum of Opynonias

Colosseum of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The central attraction at Opynonias, if the walls are not bloodied, something has gone wrong.

Port of Opynonias

Port of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The port of Opynonias.

Marketplace of Opynonias

Marketplace of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The marketplace is lined with indoor shops and merchant stands covered beneath canopies of fabric.

Sirine Hill

Sirine Hill by VindicatedPurpose

A quiet neighborhood district, east of the Colosseum, and south of the marketplace. Dhaxi's manor can be found here.

Province of Aetille

Province of Aetille by VindicatedPurpose

The Province of Aetille is otherwise known as the Imperial Province.

Foreign Quarter

Foreign Quarter by VindicatedPurpose

The Foreign Quarter is a section of Khi'ir's lower city where a number of expatriates and non-natives live and work.

Imperial City of Aetumnas

Imperial City of Aetumnas by VindicatedPurpose

Aetumnas, otherwise known as the Imperial City.

Collectibles

By creating Collectibles, you can reward your players with unique items that accentuate their character sheets.


Once an Item has been created, it can be spawned in the IC using /spawn Item Name (case-sensitive, as usual) — this can be followed with /take Item Name to retrieve the item into the current character's inventory.

Mobs

Give your Universe life by adding a Mob, which are auto-replenishing NPCs your players can interact with. Useful for some quick hack-and-slash fun!

Mobs can be automated spawns, like rats and bats, or full-on NPCs complete with conversation menus. Use them to enhance your player experience!

Current Mobs

No mobs have been created yet.

Spawns

Locations where Mobs and Items might appear.

Events

You can schedule events for your players to create notifications and schedule times for everyone to plan around.

Permissions

Add and remove other people from your Universe.

Orphanage

By marking a character as abandoned, you can offer them to your players as pre-made character sheets.

Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper
29 sightings Vadania Moonwhisper played by TheNoremac42
"People talk big game until they're trying to squirm away from the knife sticking out of their back."

The Forge

Use your INK to craft new artifacts in Skaerra: The Unlikely Tale. Once created, Items cannot be changed, but they can be bought and sold in the marketplace.

Notable Items

1 in existence, base price 1,000,000.00 bits.

The Market

Buy, sell, and even craft your own items in this universe.

Market Data

Market conditions are unknown. Use caution when trading.

Quick Buy (Items Most Recently Listed for Sale)

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View All » Add Character » 21 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Huo
Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn
Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
Character Portrait: Ya'weh
Character Portrait: Sanvi
Character Portrait: Daemon Samil

Newest

Character Portrait: Daemon Samil
Daemon Samil

"What is normal to the spider, is chaos to the fly."

Character Portrait: Sanvi
Sanvi

"A real problem only occurs when there are admittedly disadvantages in all courses that can be pursued."

Character Portrait: Ya'weh
Ya'weh

Spiritual gladiator trainer.

Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
Caspian Polarus

A blacksmith journeyman who has recently started working at the coliseum he's nothing special and not an adventurer.

Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn
Danairia Feyn

The Drunkard Elvish sell-sword known for her outspoken abrasiveness, uncommon in the likes of other elves....

Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
Antius Geminus

"The world is a fascinating place. I want to see it."

Character Portrait: Huo
Huo

Fiery pugilist and runaway slave. His temper isn't as bad as his fists.

Trending

Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
Caspian Polarus

A blacksmith journeyman who has recently started working at the coliseum he's nothing special and not an adventurer.

Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn
Danairia Feyn

The Drunkard Elvish sell-sword known for her outspoken abrasiveness, uncommon in the likes of other elves....

Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
Antius Geminus

"The world is a fascinating place. I want to see it."

Character Portrait: Ya'weh
Ya'weh

Spiritual gladiator trainer.

Character Portrait: Sanvi
Sanvi

"A real problem only occurs when there are admittedly disadvantages in all courses that can be pursued."

Character Portrait: Huo
Huo

Fiery pugilist and runaway slave. His temper isn't as bad as his fists.

Character Portrait: Daemon Samil
Daemon Samil

"What is normal to the spider, is chaos to the fly."

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
Caspian Polarus

A blacksmith journeyman who has recently started working at the coliseum he's nothing special and not an adventurer.

Character Portrait: Daemon Samil
Daemon Samil

"What is normal to the spider, is chaos to the fly."

Character Portrait: Huo
Huo

Fiery pugilist and runaway slave. His temper isn't as bad as his fists.

Character Portrait: Antius Geminus
Antius Geminus

"The world is a fascinating place. I want to see it."

Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn
Danairia Feyn

The Drunkard Elvish sell-sword known for her outspoken abrasiveness, uncommon in the likes of other elves....

Character Portrait: Sanvi
Sanvi

"A real problem only occurs when there are admittedly disadvantages in all courses that can be pursued."

Character Portrait: Ya'weh
Ya'weh

Spiritual gladiator trainer.


View All » Places

Gyarazi Desert

Gyarazi Desert by VindicatedPurpose

The desert that surrounds the coastal cities of Khi'ir and Korm on the western coast of Syakh.

Seirkent

Seirkent by VindicatedPurpose

Seirkent is located further in land away from Syakh.

Hamyzadh Desert

Hamyzadh Desert by VindicatedPurpose

The Hamyzadh desert is located east of the Syakh free cities and the Sultanate of Asyral.

Daellean

Daellean by VindicatedPurpose

Daellean. Also known as The Elven Realm to outsiders.

Khi'ir

Khi'ir by VindicatedPurpose

The city of Khi'ir is a fine port city off the western coast of the continent of Syakh.

Meroan Sea

Meroan Sea by VindicatedPurpose

The Meroan Sea is a body of water that separates the southern tips of Dessor from Syakh.

The Upper Plane

The Upper Plane by VindicatedPurpose

The Upper Plane is the realm of the gods and angels.

The White Sphinx

The White Sphinx by VindicatedPurpose

The White Sphinx aptly named because of the White Sphinx creature that adorns the entrance.

Syakh

Syakh by VindicatedPurpose

The continent of Syakh is home to Sultanates and Caliphates, the free cities, and the ruins of of the Zengid Empire.

Universe of Skaerra

Universe of Skaerra by VindicatedPurpose

A creation of the One Creator.

World of Skaerra

World of Skaerra by VindicatedPurpose

Welcome to Skaerra

Dessor

Dessor by VindicatedPurpose

The continent of Dessor is home to the Empire of Dessor and the Elven Realms.

Province of Opris

Province of Opris by VindicatedPurpose

The Province of Opris, major cities include Opynonias.

Opynonias

Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

One of the major cities of the Province of Opris within the Empire of Dessor.

Colosseum of Opynonias

Colosseum of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The central attraction at Opynonias, if the walls are not bloodied, something has gone wrong.

Port of Opynonias

Port of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The port of Opynonias.

Marketplace of Opynonias

Marketplace of Opynonias by VindicatedPurpose

The marketplace is lined with indoor shops and merchant stands covered beneath canopies of fabric.

Sirine Hill

Sirine Hill by VindicatedPurpose

A quiet neighborhood district, east of the Colosseum, and south of the marketplace. Dhaxi's manor can be found here.

Province of Aetille

Province of Aetille by VindicatedPurpose

The Province of Aetille is otherwise known as the Imperial Province.

Foreign Quarter

Foreign Quarter by VindicatedPurpose

The Foreign Quarter is a section of Khi'ir's lower city where a number of expatriates and non-natives live and work.

Imperial City of Aetumnas

Imperial City of Aetumnas by VindicatedPurpose

Aetumnas, otherwise known as the Imperial City.

Gyarazi Desert

The desert that surrounds the coastal cities of Khi'ir and Korm on the western coast of Syakh.

Seirkent

Seirkent is located further in land away from Syakh.

Syakh

The continent of Syakh is home to Sultanates and Caliphates, the free cities, and the ruins of of the Zengid Empire.

Khi'ir

The city of Khi'ir is a fine port city off the western coast of the continent of Syakh.

Dessor

The continent of Dessor is home to the Empire of Dessor and the Elven Realms.

The White Sphinx

The White Sphinx aptly named because of the White Sphinx creature that adorns the entrance.

Foreign Quarter

The Foreign Quarter is a section of Khi'ir's lower city where a number of expatriates and non-natives live and work.

Meroan Sea

The Meroan Sea is a body of water that separates the southern tips of Dessor from Syakh.

Opynonias

One of the major cities of the Province of Opris within the Empire of Dessor.

Daellean

Daellean. Also known as The Elven Realm to outsiders.

Province of Aetille

The Province of Aetille is otherwise known as the Imperial Province.

Colosseum of Opynonias

The central attraction at Opynonias, if the walls are not bloodied, something has gone wrong.

Marketplace of Opynonias

The marketplace is lined with indoor shops and merchant stands covered beneath canopies of fabric.

Sirine Hill

A quiet neighborhood district, east of the Colosseum, and south of the marketplace. Dhaxi's manor can be found here.

Province of Opris

The Province of Opris, major cities include Opynonias.

Hamyzadh Desert

The Hamyzadh desert is located east of the Syakh free cities and the Sultanate of Asyral.

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