Tournament of Champions 6 - The stones of heaven

edited June 2023 in Sagas
Ladies and gentlemen! Warriors and wizards! Beasts and summoners! Angels and demons!

Welcome to Tournament of Champions 6!

Choose your heroes that will enter the tournament where he, she, it, or they shall seek and fight to claim the stones of heaven, until only one is left standing to claim the final stone - the sunstone, as champion!

The heroes of the tournament will seek stones of progressively greater power through the journey. But as the stones grow stronger so does the challenges before you and more importantly - your rivals.  For every stone claimed, every challenged overcome, your heroes will grow in strength or wits. But those who fail to claim the stones shall leave, willingly or forced.

This contest has been done 6 times before.
Earlier tournaments:

This is a contest of card creation, story telling and roleplay. You will both make cards and write/play the role of the characters you make.

- Each cardsmith creates a legendary creature with a mana value of 3 or less that will represent them as hero in the tournament. (Heroes can be all alignments between god/evil and order/chaos or anything else).
- Each cardsmith writes a short story to give their hero character, personality and background or purpose.
- Each cardsmith also creates one signature or companion card with converted mana cost of 3 or less. (The same limit as the hero card.)
- Each cardsmith may state what stone (or stones if left to randomness) that they intend to pursue.
- After each victory, the cardsmith can choose to improve their hero by making a new stronger card for them with new artwork, or add an additional signature/companion card. To emphasize growth of the hero.

- Cards must at best ability be made balanced and reasonable. This is also true for the story of the characters. 
- Cards can be changed or replaced before the deadline of the active stage. 
- Old cards and characters may be used as long as they have not appeared in any of the earlier Tournament of Champions. But they should be your own creations.  

- Questions, discussions and other things not directly contributing to the contest should be kept in the ToC6 discussion room to reduce the "unnecessary noise" in this thread. Cards, stories and some important information/questions should be posted here however.

Hero, signature and companion cards:
- Signature cards represents the heroes' abilities, spells, equipment, or other utilities. This can also be the hero's memories, experiences and knowledge. They are sorceries, instants, artifacts and enchantments. 
- Companion cards are the companions which help the hero. They are the assistants, healers, squires, mentors, friends, or even partner heroes. They are normal or legendary creatures.
- Like in the previous tournament, you can create multiple legendary creatures that will fight for you as heroes if one of them is assigned as companion.
- You can also bring multiple heroes within the same card. This will allow you to bring even more than two heroes. The limit of this is one of logic, so you can't bring an entire army just because it fits on a card. (It's a character contest after all.) 
- The signature cards and the companion cards are limited to the same mana value as the hero, but they can be changed anytime you want while the hero card can only be changed after each victorious match and only if you choose to do so.
In these cases, change means to replace the card with another card. You may edit cards whenever you want.

Here's an example of what you can use this for:
At the start you can create a two-character fighter card plus a mentor or servant as a companion card. 
Then if you win the first stage you make a new fighter card with only one of the characters while you change the companion card to become the other character.

So to enter the contest you should post the following:
Hero card + companion or signature card + story describing or presenting your hero + What stone(s) you want to pursue.

These does not have to be posted at the same time. You can choose to skip both companion/signature card and story but that will harm your chances of victory. Desired stones is completely optional. 


Draft period:
The first two weeks is where you create and submit your heroes, signature/companion cards and story. This draft time might be lengthened if we have less than 16 submissions. (This is also the best time to ask questions if you have any!)
You may begin writing your stories here already

First stage:
When the draft period is done any stones left is distributed among those who have not specified what stones they wish to pursue so that at least 2 heroes pursue any stone. There might be more than 2 for some stones if there are more than 16 players.

Winners are determined through two main factors, card value and story value.

Card value is based on the quality of the card(s): Balance, usage, flavor, creativity and so on. 
Character value is all about the character: Background, actions, motivations, personality, reactions to events and so on. (This will be generally more important the longer the contest goes on.)

Post-First stage:
The winners will be given a minimum of one week to upgrade their hero and/or make or change their signature/companion cards. Extra time may be given if the need is justified. This will continue in a similar pattern until the last two heroes remain. Some special rules will occur then but more about that then.

Maximum mana value at each stage: 

1st stage: 3

2nd stage: 5

3rd stage: 7 (An additional signature/companion card will be allowed.)

The mana limits are both for the heroes and the companion/signature cards, so signature cards and companion cards can be of higher mana cost than the hero card as the game goes on.


  • edited June 2023

    Example hero and signature cards (made by @shadow123)

    Nilani the Purehearted Nilani the Hopebringer
    Guardian of HopeHope TwinAbyssal Hope

    Point system:
    To explain it simply: The winners will be determined by the one that have received the most points.
    You get points from both the card values and the character values as well as eventual modification points.
    Both of these are assigned a value from 1 to 5 .
    The character value is based on the character and the stories related to that character as a whole while the card value is the average of each card. (Where the heroes have twice the impact of the value, they counts as two averages.)
    The modification points is not related to the card or the character but you, the cardsmith. (So be nice!)
    In the early stages the card values are most likely to be the determining factor while later in the contest it will be the stories which carry the most weight. (but focus should still be to submit quality cards. Stories can be carried both by quality or quantity.)

    Rules and important notes:

    - Firstly the obvious. Don't break the rules of the forum. 

    - Don't spam messages.

    Respect the larger story, the world and its rules or at least leave it alone. It is quite difficult and very time consuming to make a story for this kind of contest. So i would like you all to keep yourself within the box of the grand story while playing with the smaller stories. Don't try to take over the world or start a war. The story will be separated into three parts, individual, small story and grand story. 

    * The individual story is the characters' background, ambitions and character. (That does not affect anyone else's character from the established story)

    * The small story is the tournament, challenges for stones and your playground with schemes, fights, rivalries, friendships and the like. This is the  main story for your characters to show their alignments, motivations and such.  
    I might sometimes write your characters into my own story-chapters as they are good catalysts and mediums for the grand stories. 
    Sometimes I will let you write how your character deals with certain challenges related to the stones that you pursue. (This is most likely if you win the fight against your rival but not necessary).

    * The grand story is the world and national and international politics and events which will affect the tournament. This will be controlled by me and happens outside of the tournament. However pieces of events and things in the grand story will be brought into the small story and thus you may affect them.

    By joining this tournament, you agree to let me take control over your characters and do with them as I see fitting to their character and the story. I will also control how the fights are played and how larger parts of the story take part. So it is important that you give me instruction about your hero's character, Personality, motivations, abilities and such. This makes it easier for me to keep your characters true to their intended image.

    Don't be afraid to make mistakes. We are here to have fun after all.

  • edited June 2023

    Welcome to Avelaide!

    Avelaide is a world that I use for a book project of mine. It is also used as the setting for the tournament of champions, though not with the exact same details regarding characters, events and names.

    Avelaide is a world with dragons, beasts, kingdoms, knights, wizards and godlike guides (caretakers), but there is also abyssal monsters and a godlike destroyer covered in mystery - Septhis.  

    The abyss is a realm of the endless depth, locked away behind a gate to the afterlife and guarded by a godlike caretaker of death. But there are supposedly other entrances into the endless darkness of the abyss.  

    Souls which are sent to the abyss are believed to be doomed for an eternal torment. As they suffered in life they will suffer in the abyss where time does not heal wounds or ease the suffering of hatred. If anything the emotions of those trapped in the abyss is magnified over the centuries that they are trapped there. Neither living nor dead, these souls sometimes overflow and tear a rift to the world of mortals. Sometimes these tears are caused by  external forces.

    Souls enter the world through these rifts as frenzied dark creatures. If the rift is open by an external force these souls might turn up as undead; skeletons, zombies, spirits. But  sometimes or if the rift are caused by the abyss itself then souls that have absorbed an enormous amount of the abyss's energy for a long time become horrifying monsters that have shed all resemblance to any living thing on Avelaide escape. These monsters are sometimes powerful enough to decay the land and corrupt creatures around them with mere presence alone. There are some groups and armies around the world whose sole purpose is to seek out rifts of the abyss, heal them, and slay any monsters that have escaped.

    But that is a story for another time.
    There are few things that can bring terror enough to rival that of the abyssal monsters, and then there are those few that even surpasses it.  

    Welcome to Asolamun!

    Asolamun, the southern continent just beneath Dormania, is a land of sand, sun and water.

    This continent is home to many cultures and 3 super cultures, where 2 of them in one way or another bow to the authority of the great Shambakin, a holy deity like a pope, with seat in Monastir, the greatest capital of the greatest kingdom in the continent.

    In the north east are the kingdoms of Viserus, Opala, Decedonia, Pussur and parts of Nicosia, Lachania and the Qaran Republic which fall under the banner of a Hellenic culture (Ancient Greek). These people are heroic hardened soldiers, philosophic artists and corrupt politicians. Under the words of the Shambakin these people go to war with spear and shield forming the greatest hoplites and cavalry in the continent.

    In the south beyond the great border (thick black on the map) is the "heretic kingdoms" of the Zumbala (Central/south African) super culture. Though these people are as diverse as they deaf to the words of the Shambakin. These people can hardly be summarized in other things than their black and dark brown skin, their hatred towards the followers of the people north of the border, and their respect for the holy elephants. Some of these people live on the plains, other live in jungles but many live in proper cities with standing armies armed with iron armor and polearms. Though they are as likely to rage war against each others as towards the "weak northerners". These lands is also home to the giants whom Medirna of Dormania would turn a huge interest towards (more about this later in the story)

    Last but not least is the "golden people", "children of the sun" or the Asulamani (North African, Middle eastern, Arabian) super culture. These people inhabit most of the remaining land (except the 3 desert nomadic kingdoms: Voghol, The desert horde and riders of the rose which are a mix of Mongol/Turkish. They obey the Shambakin when they feel like it) These people might not be strong warriors, great magicians or have noteworthy beasts of war. What they do have however is fire and water - guns, cannons and steam engines, and great political systems. From Monastir and Lun Arelia almost the entire continent is authorized making it indirectly the greatest empire in all of Avelaide - and enemy to Dormania    
  • edited June 2023
    The War of legends & The war of terror

    "What do you know of war, Lisakdonian? Yes you have been fighting both in the north-western parts of your own country and the great war in Dormania. You see battle as something honorable where you can stand in your regiment, fight when you are ordered, then rest and return home with only a broken rib and a flesh wound at worst. You are ignorant, but I shall open your eyes. Let me tell you the stories of a war that many call "the war of legends" for it gave birth to so many heroes you could spend your entire life learning about them yet at your death bed you could only name less than half of them. But that is not the reason why we hate war, oh no. It is because of the second name of the great war "the war of terror". The war that shattered kingdoms and exterminated so many cultures that you can still see the damages today 230 years later."    

    War is not uncommon either in Dormania or Asolamun. Even though the Shambakin influences most of the continent it is quite common that smaller conflicts or even battles and war declarations arises between the states and kingdoms. This happens between cultures but also within them. 

    Though the general idea is that the continent as well as its northern neighbor, Dormania, lived through a great age of peace at this time where alliances, trade and art where of most importance. However behind the curtains there was tensions growing between the great cities of Asolamun and the great kingdoms of Dormania. Through decades the economy in Asolamun had dwindled cause of over-trade with Dormania which caused the Shambakin to issue tariffs onto the Dormanian goods while preserving the trade with Lisakdonia-Vasenia. In turn Dormania began blocking of certain routes for the Asolamani. Through the years the two sides continued to straining the tension further and further, until one day when it snapped.

    A prince of Asolamun wanted for his coronation to collect a glorious hunting trophy. However elephants where seen as highly valuable indeed, the prince wanted something absolutely unique that no other prince had ever hunted before. He wanted the head of a dragon, but not just any dragon, a black dragon. The few dragons that had lived in the continent where since centuries ago gone so the prince had no other option but to travel into Dormania for his price. And a price he got indeed. At the end of summer after months of hunting, the prince shot down and killed a black Dormanian royal dragon. Never in history had anyone claimed such trophy of prestige. He would get famous in all of Asolamun for this, and famous he became.

    In dormania the news of a prince having hunted and killed a dragon would have been met with pure rage and hatred alone, but the prince had hunted a black Dormanian Royal, and during a decline among such dragons. The royal families of Dormania would just send a paper with demands to the prince and the Shambakin which was met by fury from the Dormanian people who wanted nothing but the Prince's head. When the demands where not met after a month, the Dormanian kingdoms declared war - and like a wave of fire within less than a week, the Dormanians had entered Alsomamun and taken the northern great city of Stellastir, and with it the stone of the stars. The news where met with fury from both the Shambakin and the people of both Asolamani and the Hellenic groups and soon the greatest war in history of Avelaide had begun.

    Five years have passed since the start and the war has only grown more rageful as the northern Asulamani kingdoms are in flames, and the south of Dormania is in ruins, and the methods of war have turned more and more violent. In Asulamun defenseless women and children are beaten into the ground and then fed to the dragons while still breathing, and in Dormania villages are exposed to burning rain from the weapons of Asulamun that causes the skin, hair and eyes to melt from the victims while not giving them the relief of death until long after. And worse it would become.

    But that is not why you are here.
  • edited June 2023
    Stones of Heaven - tier 1

    Long long ago - during a night as calm and silent as any other night, a bright light appeared from the sky illuminating the desert sands for miles and miles away. A star from the night sky had departed from its place and now fell towards the world. As it fell it left a trail of blue fire behind its cyan tail and blue body.

    Then as it entered the atmosphere, purple azure flames burst out from newly formed cracks in its core. Then moments later it exploded in a violent storm that pushed away all the clouds from the surrounding sky. Behind was an image of a newly bloomed flower of white and purple flame that slowly diminished as its flame died.

    Then small glowing sparks began to rain down from where the star bloom just had died out. Some of the sparks died themselves but others survived all the way onto the surface. Sparks of all imaginable colors, like seeds falling from a fertile tree they covered the worlds. They were gems - gems of the stars, and they would one day prove to be more than simple beautiful stones.

    Stones of heaven are gemstones of incredible magical powers.

    With the war raging on in the north, and the Dormanians having laid their hands on the stone of stars one of the three celestial stones, the other being the  the moonstone in Monastir held by the Shambakinm, and the sunstone in the abandoned capital of Solastir. The need for the sunstone's power is greater than ever before. The Asulamani wants it, the Dormanian wants it, the Zumbala wants it, you want it.

    But to reach that stone you first need to collect lesser stones, and we begin with the lowest tier of stones which are still more than the barely-more-than-trinkets tier 0 stones. Eight stones have been sighted around the continent. Which stone do you wish to pursue?

    In an ancient tomb stands a huge throne of bones. Sitting upon it is a dead king with a gemstone decorating the front of his crown. The king rests in peace but through the gemstone, the armor he wears is commanded by the spirits that inhabits the tomb. Unwilling or unable they do not pass on to the tree of life. Instead they spend their eternity in death protecting the ruins of this ancient kingdom against any trespasser foolish enough to enter.

    The vast desert is a deadly yet calm and peaceful place. It is not violence which makes her such an effective killer. It is the scorching days and the freezing nights that end the life of those that dare to disturb her peaceful ways. But those that can travel through her domain understands that she is no killer at all. She is merely a cradle. There is comfort in her domain, and those that see that also call this place "home".

    Sometimes the desert plays with her visitors through illusions, a mirage of an oasis. Sometimes she actually gifts them a real oasis where they can restore their strength. And sometimes an oasis appears which is both a mirage and real at the same time. But it is not her work. In the depth of the water something is shining like the stars of the night sky. A gemstone lies deep beneath the surface. A trap for anyone thirsty enough to drink the water to quench their thirst. A trap for anyone greedy enough to dive in and and claim the stone.

    The white Mountains of these lands are old. Made millions of years ago thousands of feet beneath the ground where the sand meets the bedrock. Slowly through the years the stone made from molten sand rise up above ground where it is yet again turned to sand and dust as the mountains are polished by wind and weather. But among the mountains, one stands out. Like bleeding wound, the white sandstone is disrupted by slivers of red crystalized stone formed like huge scars.

    At the bottom of one of the scars is an opening into the mountain with rails leading down a path into a camp in the valley. From inside the mine the sound of steel clashing against stone and crystal breaks the silence. cling! Clang! cling! clang! The sounds echoes through the tunnels that follow the crystal scar deeper and deeper. The light of burning torches touches the crystal walls and spread a light that almost seem like it flows like blood through the red crystal. Two men pushing a wagon filled with red crystal appears from the deep and soon disappears out into the open as they head down the valley.

    Deep inside the mine is the frontier where men are challenging the stone with pickaxe and hammer for bombs is too risky. One man keeping a torch by his side strikes at the crystal before him and after each strike he investigates the wall which behaviors stranger that the crystal of the rest of the mine.
    He continues to strike at the crystal with his hammer. kling! kding crack! Then suddenly, the crystal breaks and falls down revealing a stone of dense dark red.
    The man grabs the gemstone and hurries back as he cheers "I have found it! I have found it!".

  • edited June 2023
    Once upon a time, before the birth of any relative to any of the elders of today had been born. There was a magnificent kingdom at the crown of a great river. In that kingdom lived a beautiful and devoted young princess who was much loved by all her subjects. Then one day, the kingdom was attacked by a ferocious monster. A beast so terrifying that it struck fear into all in its presence. The monster brought ruin and destruction to city after city as it approached the great capital.

    The priestesses of the capital decided that, in order to protect the princess and to keep the warriors from losing heart, the princess would be turned into a bird so she could fly away and seek refuge at the divine peak of the tallest mountain. The priestesses gave the princess a necklace with a white crystal stone inside a medallion. Then as they began chanting a spell, the gemstone began to glow and slowly the princess turned into a white shrike. She flew away to the mountain as the monster came closer.

    The battle was hard and costly but after days and nights of battle, the beast had been slayed. The city had been destroyed but the citizens where full of heart for they knew their princess was still alive.
    Days passed but the princess would not return. The priestesses decided, with the help of some noble warriors, to climb to the peak where the princess had been sent a week before. At the peak they would find the princess sitting on a branch of an old lonely tree. No matter how much they tried, the priestesses could not undo the transformation.

    Slowly over the passing days and weeks, the priestesses and warriors would lose spirit, give up and descend the mountain. After a long time there were only two left - the most noble of the warriors and the elder priestess herself. The priestess saw no end where the princess could be turned back, nothing but to give their hope to destiny itself. The warrior however remained stoic, he would not leave the princess. He made a deal with the priestess. She turned the warrior into a hawk, destined to protect the princess until time comes. Then she left them and descended the mountain.

    Two hundred years would pass, and the kingdom and its princess would turn into legend. But stories from those who travel to the valley now claimed by birds tell of a white shrike guarded by a large brown hawk. Perhaps the legend is true.

    Beyond the eastern coast there is a lonely island which have never been correctly painted onto a map. The island seemingly never stays in the same place for longer than a single day. The island is not difficult to find as it floats in the dense mist. It is known that whenever mist falls dense over the sea the island is near. Most sailors know to avoid the island for if they land on it, when they return for the ship empty handed the ship the island will have traveled hundreds of miles into unknown sea.

    Those that actually managed to make it back from the island tell stories of forests and paths that change and twist. They tell of animals that watch the sailors day and night from beyond the fog and voices that haunt their minds. But to those that listen to the stories, it is often of the crystalized lights that appear from deep inside the fog, which catch their interest the most. But after decades no one have yet managed to claim the gemstones from the island of fog.

  • edited June 2023

    War is like a hungry beast. It hungers for land, gold and faith. It hungers as it devours the lives of man, those of guilt, those of duty and those of innocence. It hungers as it devours the livelihood of man and animal alike as it burns crop and house to useless ash. It hungers as it devours iron, wood and black powder as the tools of war are shattered in combat and left in the blood covered mud and sand. It hungers as it devours the written and unwritten words of knowledge, -history, science, culture and pleasure, as it leaves only scavenging birds to break the dead silence.
    It was hunger for pride and honor that started this war and it won't end until the beast hungers no more.

    That time is far away. Some believe they will not survive to taste the winds of peace. Some believe it will never arrive at all. Some believe they don't want peace anymore. Some believe the beast can only be satisfied by eating itself to death. And for such goal the correct tools are needed.

    In a distant city far from the heat of war, black thick smoke rises to the sky. It pours from the chimney of a large building of industry that have fed this war for a long time. But this one is different as blue light shines through the windows. Men are stacking weapons into crates, arquebuses and bombs. But these are not of ordinary steel and iron, they are black with a tone of crystal blue.

    Deeper inside the forge a valve opens up and intense hot liquid steel pours down into a mold to form the barrels of weapons. As the molten steel cools solid a shattered blue light reflects through it like as if it was made of crystal. Large blue flames bursts up as iron bars and scrap metal are poured into a large foundry. Deep inside the burning coal beneath the foundry a sharp blue light shine through the yellow flame. The light of the heart of the forge - a gemstone to feed the beast of war.

    From village to village he travels. He carry nothing but his white cloak decorated in symbols of the white and the black cobras, and on his finger a ring with a green stone. He is not executioner yet he take lives.
    Not lives of the guilty, though not always of the innocent either. He does not take at all. He gives an honorable and peaceful death to those that can no longer live, those that above all else desire death and peace. He does not take what he desires, he is given what he needs be it food, water, a warm bed for the night, a woman. It is not uncommon that he lay with the women of the men whose lives he just had ended. It is not uncommon that he eats and drinks from the very plates and cups who's owner he had given death minutes earlier.

    He is a holy man exiled from the very temples who's holy symbol he carry on his ring. He is a man of oaths and piety yet he gives to those that have the most instead of those in greatest need. He is not a warrior yet those that seek to mug him always end up empty handed. He is a man who travels from village to village carrying death with him. And so he have done for six hundred years.

    Music has Always been an important part of life in this land - in the entire world even. Music has been just to connect with the gods and the spirits of the dead but also the world and the will of the mother goddess herself. Music is also just for people to celebrate or encourage them during tough times or to raise their spirit before a battle.
    Many dedicate their entire lives to the art of music and song. Some go even further.

    There is a city that used to be famous for its many singers and its soothing music and its great opera house. That was many years ago and today musical performances are kept far from the old opera house in the outskirts of the city. Not much activity at all is kept close to the opera house anymore whose doors and windows have been barricaded and signs warning any trespasser decorate the walls. But if one is to be near the house they will hear song echoing from deep inside the building.

    The house might be barricaded but it is still fully crowded. Not a single seat unoccupied. Everyone of the audience sit in silence, almost in trance. They are all pale and clearly malnourished as if they have barely been eating for months and not seen the sun for years. All they do is listen to the song of the singer who stands on the stage.

    Dressed in a beautiful golden dress decorated in green and purple, her singing voice echoes against the wooden walls. Her song is perfect, not a single flaw, not a single mistake. Her skin, unlike that of her audience, is of olive-colored and full of life and her hair is long and dark brown with jewels of silver and gold. Around her neck hangs a necklace with a yellow gemstone. Her brown eyes are filled with nothing but madness.

  • edited June 2023
    More story will be shared as time goes on.

    Note: This takes place about 230 years before the events of Tournament of Champions 1, and 210 years before Tournament of Champions 3.

    Deadline for entry is Saturday the 24'th of June.

    Correction of a rule: You get to pursue a stone as soon as you choose it, thus you may begin writing your journey towards that stone directly after you have joined.
    This of course provided that less than 2 other people are already pursuing that stone.

    Happy hunting!
  • ~ Your entertainment arrangements have been reserved for the Tournament of Champions. If you have any questions, please contact The Old King's Death Bed. ~
  • edited June 2023

    — Prologue 1: The Mocking Voice's Last Laugh

    Long ago, in the forgotten days of man, there was a great, wandering king, who many considered a god among men. He took his trusty blade from land to land, butchering nobles and claiming their thrones. This appeased his hunger for years, but the sport grew old for the unmatched traveler. He sent for entertainment, but dancers were too refined for his tastes. Even the most epic symphony of an orchestra wouldn’t spur a tap or hum from him, and the physical feats of acrobats were not impressive to the living bulwark. He slew all of them for failing him, eventually searching for a jester, but what he found instead was a masked performer that could not perform. This figure revealed himself to be a demigod before the king could slay him, however, and promised power in exchange for his life. He had the ability to grant twisted wishes, and was willing to grant whatever the king wished for. His name is lost to time, but he is now known simply as the Mocking Voice.

    The king was known to abuse the Mocking Voice's offer with great self-indulgence. Since the only thing keeping the figure alive was his servitude, the demigod was forced to do whatever the king said. Since the demigod could fulfill wishes, the king made demand after frivolous demand. The Mocking Voice admired his strength and tenacity, but that started to fade with each passing day; if he was hungry, instead of hunting, he would wish for a feast. If he was thirsty, instead of drinking from his assortment of wines, he would have the demigod summon it fresh. If he needed to go somewhere, he asked to be teleported, and if he needed someone dead, he just spoke a command. He grew from an imposing tyrant into an avaricious slob in the passing months, and soon, he barely lifted a finger. He wished death upon everyone who disobeyed until just the performer was left to serve him, and he pushed him to the breaking point.

    Now, the demigod was looking for an out, yet his king still held great power over him. If he ran away, he would surely be killed, and even if he wasn't, the king could just wish for him to take his own life at any time. However, the Mocking Voice did not get his name for being kind. He slowly started to turn the king's wishes awry, or at least, as much as he could bend them while still fulfilling his duty. When the king wished for riches, he paid him in copper coins. When the king demanded he count them, he supplied the measurements in a language unknown to man. When asked for translation, he translated it literally, making it woefully inaccurate. Spite carried on and on, and as the king ensured he gave more and more specific requests, the Mocking Voice became more and more deceitful and rebellious. Soon, tensions reached a fever pitch, and the king snapped. Few of his orders have written records, but this one was penned in extreme detail. It could have been written by anyone, but the specifics combined with the exotic ink and bloodstains make the most irrefutable proof of these events.

    "My dear, incompetent servant. If you would be so kind as to not twiddle your thumbs where no thumbs should go, I have one last request of you before I rid you of your miserable existence. I wish for someone to replace you, a figure that shares my sense of humor, and one whose undying loyalty will never fail me. He must be capable of even the most arduous undertakings, and be willing to fulfill even my most unceremonious requests. However, he must not be capable of resisting or overthrowing me, just as you have failed me…"
    After this, it is said that this wish was given in increasingly specific levels of detail, until eventually, the king ended the Mocking Voice out of anger. As the demigod fell, his form fading, laughter emerged from his featureless mask he called a face. Since the king did not consider the wish fulfilled, the demigod used the last of his power to twist it beyond redemption. His mask began to bend into a horrid shape, growing jagged teeth and matted fur as the cackling grew more wicked. The king drove his blade through the mask, but it simply continued to take its new form as its insulting voice spoke.

    "Aye! Aye! A servant of undying loyalty? I thought you learned to use your words, old bag! May this fool haunt all kings like you, and plague the realms of man for eternity!"

  • edited June 2023

    — Prologue 2: The Kings' Curse

    Hours passed as the mad king hacked and slashed away at the mask, dismembering every growth that dared to branch its way off from it. However, it was a fruitless endeavor, and while the king could battle for days, he had faced this mask with every ounce of hatred he could muster. Few could muster such hellish emotions towards an inanimate object, and even fewer would be willing to demolish their homes just to make an attempt at destroying it. But this mask... no trace of it would be allowed to remain. With strike after strike he carved through the bone and into the flesh emerging, repeatedly sending it across the room, but every time he tried to stick it in place, it simply continued to grow around his blade. The sun was starting to set, and the king was out of shape from his habits. Sweat poured from his face, and his attacks had grown weak enough that he couldn't keep up with the growth. So, he decided to skewer the mask through the wall and rest.

    As fur and flesh unfolded from the mask, the laughter from before resumed. A spindly arm reached out from the mask, grabbed the sword, and threw it at the king. He dodged, picked up the blade, and tried to strike this thing again, and this time, it stopped growing. The mask disappeared, leaving only the great pool of blood on the floor where it had been repeatedly stripped of it. The king breathed a sigh of relief and sat upon his throne, only to leap when he felt something prick him in the thigh. It was a dagger, one which had not been there before, and a face emerged from his seat. For once, the king was frightened, and watched as a figure unburied itself from the throne. However, this figure showed no signs of cruelty, malice, or anything within its eyes, only sadness that the king would run from it. It stood not even three feet tall, wearing a gold and purple robe, its heterochromatic eyes tearing up. It had the outward features of a hyena, but the build and tail of a kobold, and it cowered skittishly.

    "You... you ran from me... I just wanted to play..."

    The king grunted, and limped over to his throne to pin the creature against it. It gulped, whimpering as the monarch held his hand around its throat. "You... call that play? You stabbed me in the leg and call that play?! To hell with you!"

    The gremlin was smashed through the throne, bones aplenty cracking as its life was taken instantly. Paranoid now, the king looked back and forth, blade at the ready, panting. He felt a knife stab into his shoulder, however, and as he tried to reach for the culprit, he flung it off as he turned. It was that gremlin, again, somehow alive?! "Why won't you just die?!"

    The hybrid figure gasped, clearly offended, and scampered back into a corner. "Why do you want to kill me? I'm here to serve!"

    The king stomped towards it, holding his blade firm. "You've not made a good case for yourself... tell me your name!"
    The hyena let out a cry of fear, shaking under bladepoint. "I- I'm... Torna D. Ruhan Esquire! At your service, your majesty!"
    "Esquire?! You call yourself nobility?!"
    "Yes! I'm the son of the Mocking Voice! Noble performer, son of the god-
    "YOU FOOL! You saw what I did to him! I'll do the same to you!"
    "It won't do anything, your highness! I am yours until you draw your last breath!"
    "I will kill you, no matter what it takes!"
    "You can't kill me permanently... it is bound..."

    Suddenly, a scroll dropped from the gremlin's robe, unrolling itself and revealing its nature. Written in blood, verbatim, was his wish... underlined was the phrases "undying loyalty" and "never fail, even if it would mean his death". The king, distracted, saw the scroll, and growled. Further down were details on the exact execution of how the wish was fulfilled; created before him was a servant that could die, but couldn't fail in his duties... if his life was ended, he would simply come back, again and again. And of course, he was created as an absolute fool.

    As the king read the last words, he was driven by boiling rage to drive his blade into the jester. He impaled the figure with such force that the blade, damaged from the onslaught before, shattered. The king took out his rage on this gremlin for its existence, for daring to oppose him by being a servant that could never truly be punished... but that's because all the king knew was death. Soon, he would know it even greater; as the jester lie against the wall in a bloody, disfigured pulp, the worn out king drew back his hand for another good punch... and clenched his chest. He fell backwards, exhaustion setting in as he shouted out in pain. The hyena weakly pushed itself from the wall and limped over to him, locking eyes with the king, and smiling. "It's okay now, your highness. I will never fail you again..."

  • edited June 2023

    Signature Card

    Assorted Stats

    Age: 250 years (Youthfull Breath Technique) -> (30 in "monk" years)

    Gender: Male

    Race: Human

    Alignment: Chaotic Neutral / Sometimes Neutral Good

    Occupation: Monk, Laborer (For income mostly)

    Hobbies: Meditating, training, running, shaolin swordfighting.

    Height: 5,7

    Weight: 145 lbs (Without Momentum)

    Abilities - Martial Prowess, Sword Fighting, Super Speed

    Like most monks Godara prefers to resolve conflicts with words rather than fight, unlike other monks Godara has no qualms humbling his agressors. Godara is not hasty and will not attack until he perceives intent, a technique which involves reading body language, watching feet and arms for even slight movements, and chi to sense emotion. If he senses intent whether negative or not to attack him, he prefers to strike fast and end the battle as fast as possible. A task which is made easier with his training as a Blazing Foot, and now his new found power. When fighting not to kill, he uses martial arts that is like a combination of shaolin kung-fu, wing-chun, and judo coupled with his speed and martial prowess to direct the battle, each of his move methodical like a dance, and his strikes sharp like a mantis claw. While he does not aim to kill in this mode, he has no qualms about breaking a few bones, maybe fifty to prove a point. However while fighting to kill, he shows no mercy, the Blazing Foot while monks, are also trained in the art of assassination. He uses techniques such as the silent foot, coupled with his speed to not only muffle, but also confuse, and suprise his opponents. He also draws his shaolin blade, which while ceremonial, becomes a leathal weapon at high speeds. Overall Godara prefers to keep his fights quick, clean, and methodical, wasting no energy and showing no hesitation in his actions. Godara being a monk is highly resilient to taunts, and has high mental fortitude. His biggest strenghts are his mobility, and his martial prowess.

    Godara, Thundering Feet:

    Godara's Speed:

    Godara seeks stone 5. Being deceived is but a distant dream for one with a centered mind, mastering it is childs play.
  • edited June 2023

    Intro - Godara Runs Towards Destiny

    Godara The Thundering Feet, Monk Of The Loud, Prodigy Of The Blazing Foot. From a young age Godara among other youth in the Blazing Mountain Pagoda trained to become monks. For most the pagoda was a place of guidance, for others it was a home. Godara like many others, had been abandoned by his parents at the pagoda as a young child since at the time they had no hope or means of ever raising him. Under the guidance of Kaifu, The Blazing Foot Master Godara trained in order to earn the title of monk from the now 975 year old declining master. Despite having trained all his life, the master had not perfected immortality, and was seeking his next prodigy to continue his work thus founding the monastery of the Blazing Foots. From a young age the prodigy would begin their journey as saminera, being tasked with running up and down the five hundred steps of the monestary with their yokes as they were tasked with fetching twenty buckets of water from the downstream river. The ones who failed were made to do twenty push ups with boulders tied to their back, while the ones who suceeded where tasked with meditating. Afterwards the master along with some volunteers would brew a cup of tea from the gathered water and if it fell short everyone exept the people who didn't get a cup had to do pull up hangs for an hour on the bamboo racks made by the master. These along with other exercises helped the young monks in training develop teamwork abilities and perserverance.

    Most if not all of the young apprentinces became monks by adulthood. By this point, the ones who failed and did not wish to try again were allowed to leave and pursue their life from then on foward. The ones who stuck through continued rigoursous martial arts training, and learned various techniques such as coal walking, water running, as well as the way of the silent feet. They were also tasked with fetching a greater amount of buckets than the youth were expected as with time their speed grew more and more. Godara stood out execeptionally among the group as he always completed the tasks quicker than the others, and seemed to have a profound mastery of the Blazing Foot's techniques. As a reward, the master would often punish him for his arrogance by making him sweep the monastery while the others completed their task, or by making him work out. When he asked "why", the old man responded "why not?." Despite always being faster Godara always failed the task not because he was fast, but because his team mates suffered for his speed. This was a lesson he never took to heart as he continued to dominate each task. Eventually drawn out and tired of constant faliure, he almost quit. Only for the master to choose him and five others, then eventually him and one other to train to become his prodogy. After ten more years of training, and mastering the youthfull breathing technique, as well as the kettle hold, the one inch punch, as well as wall running; Godara was sure he was going to be the next Blazing Foot Master. He was faster, had more prowess, and was more skilled than his rival. That is why he was angered when the title was granted to his rival. The master told him that ultimately he lacked the team work, but offered to continue training him to work on his flaws. Angered, Godara stormed out, running through the monastery, blitzing down the stairs, hurtleing down the forest, getting faster and faster than he ever was, his rage a catalyst, unleashing a latent power unknown to him before, a power that was perhaps a result of his parent/s bloodline/s, before eventually with lightning crackling, he zoomed through a crowded village that was thirty five miles away from the monestary and vanishing. He appeared in a mysterious world, shaken, and confused; Both at his sudden speed, and his sudden predicament. But through his training as a monk he was able to center his mind and breath, ultimately deciding to keep running north within the lands of Lun Arelia, until he found refuge in Al' Soran. There he learned of a tournament, there he would prove to himself along side his new abilities that he was the rightful Blazing Foot Master. Until then, he would train harder than he ever did, and assimilate to his new surroundings as best as he could. None would ever look down on him again.

  • edited June 2023
    Lore 1- Stones of Heaven

    Stones of heaven, gemstones of the sunfall or eyes of the goddess as they are sometimes called, are crystalized fragments that where once part of the burning star that fell from the sky above Asolamon thousands of years ago.

    As the star fell into the atmosphere and began to burn small cracks formed around the shell of the star and out poured dust and small fragments. These fragments left the star so early that they barely got time to absorb any of the magical energy that where released in the fire. Even though beautiful and containing magic from the star, these stones would not be called stones of heaven, but instead stones of the sky. Today they are used as decorative stones due to their sharp colors and some of them even glow when exposed to light from the celestial entities - the sun, the moon and the stars.

    As the star fell further its signature tail began to take form. The fragments that fell of the star but remained in the tail and where big enough would end up absorbing more of the star's flames to form the weakest stones of heaven. Lesser stones of heaven or tier 1 stones as they are sometimes called are stones of great variation in magical ability. Common among them is that they all contain enough magical energy to be used as sources of magic. The weakest of these are used as light sources in the cities while the more powerful ones can be used to enhance weapons with crystal flames or even controlling inanimate objects such as armors or golems. There exists thousands of these stones in the world and many are still lost or have yet to be found.

    As the star fell even further the star shell now began to break apart due to the intense flames and forces acting on it. These fragments would end up as the tier 2 stones, chaotic stones of heaven or great stones. These stones are generally very rough and larger than the other stones, some are even too heavy to carry by hand. These stones are much more powerful than the tier 1 stones though their energy is often inconsistent due to the common occurrence of cracks in the stone. These stones range from being the source of lesser storms or they are used to cause avalanches. They are very rarely used when precision is required. There exists about one to two hundred of these stones.

    Then when the flamers grew too hot the star exploded, and sunfall was formed. The only thing left of the star was its core which was shattered in a very bright and colorful ring of flame. The stones that where shattered are the tier 3 stones or the true stones of the sunfall. These stones are at worst as strong as the great stones but they are smaller and contain not a single crack so their energy is consistent. These stones are very powerful. One of these stones have raised an entire army from the dead and now walks the desert, One is carried by an unknown man in the south who is called the "immortal", another is carried by the great Storm sorcerer of Zatisk. There are 23 known stones of this kind.     

    Then there are the three celestial stones - the sunstone, the moonstone and the stone of the stars. These stones where at the very middle of the star and unlike the other stones they are made of a metallic crystal material and they are very powerful - so powerful that three great empires where formed around them and cities where built to contain their powers - Solastir, Monastir and Stellastir. It is not completely known what powers they hold since no person alive have ever used them but it is believed by some that the holder of all three stones could match the champion of the abyss itself - Septhis. Others belive that the celestial stones are evil and corrupts whoever tries to use them.
  • edited June 2023

    — Prologue 3: The Old King's Death Bed

    Parts 1 and 2:

    Several centuries later...

    "And that's how I accidentally committed my first murder!"

    Chuckles and laughter filled the tavern as the jester, that very same one, bowed. Out of royal courts and into the free world, Torna performed at a building of his own creation. Conjured from dead trees and discarded furnishings, no one could tell this used to be nothing more than a junk pile in the middle of the woods. No one but Torna, of course, and his gracious barkeep Speakeasy. The polished wood floors were seemingly carved from the healthiest oaks, the spacious interior thought to be an engineering marvel. And yet, it was all the work of some magic, some very volatile magic. See, this wasn't the first tavern he had lived at, and if his powers ever went haywire again, it wouldn't be the last.

    A stage stood in the center of the tavern, with the gremlin standing atop it. The cheers and jeers were interrupted by a tall man in his mid 30s, smoking from a hookah as he approached. He seemed stern with a face like a stone, and his cold eyes didn't seem to care for the festivities. "That's what I've heard, young man. That's what I've heard. Now that you've said it, I'm afraid this is gonna be your last performance."

    Torna looked at this figure, who was tall enough to lock eyes with him. "Whaddya mean last performance? S'down, the story's not even over!"

    The figure clearly wasn't budging, clearing his throat. "Maybe a simpleton like you wouldn't recognize what I'm saying, so I'll talk simple. You. Me. Dungeon. Now."

    The hyena looked confused, and cocked his head. "I still don't follow. Besides, the dungeon is only open for dragons-"

    Torna squeaked as his neck was grabbed, and he was yoked off the stage. The figure gave him a death stare, and started to haul him away. "I'm a private investigator, looking into the mysterious death of one of Zumbala's first kings. This figure you mention, sounds like him. He had multiple knife wounds down to the bone, and yet was said to die of a curse. You just confessed to his murder."
    "Wait, ya have the wrong ideeea... what the hell is a Thumbala anyways?"
    "Liar! I do not care how many years have passed, nor how much of a "tyrannt" you thought he was. The death penalty for you!"

    Onlookers gasped as the jester was hurled across the barroom. Weighing only 36 pounds soaking wet, Torna was practically a ragdoll in most hands. He flew through a table, smashing the benches and breaking a glass serving tray. Then, as the figure pointed at him, a ray of fire was cast upon him, scorching his fur and blasting a hole through his body. The wax on the floor melted as the debris burst into flames, but Torna? His robes weren't burning, and nothing came out of the hole except blood. He stood up with little a problem, and the expression of innocence on his face rapidly faded into bared teeth, and golden scepter appeared in his hand. He stood up, and lightning burst from the tip, forming it into a spear, and he growled. "Fine! You really think I killed a king? Of course I did! Did you read the name on the bloody sign as you walked in? Or were you so elevated by your self-righteousness that you hit your head on the way in? It's the Old King's Death Bed for crying out loud!"

    The investigator grunted at Torna's tenacity, and drew a scimitar hidden under his robes. If he couldn't scorch him, he would dice him into pieces and carry home his head. "I am not here for jokes, jester. I take my duty seriously."

    The two dashed towards each other, but Torna's stature made put him at lower thigh with the tall, stoic enforcer, just above the knee at the top of his head. This combined with the leverage of Torna's scepter-spear meant he could easily knock the investigator off his feet with shocking strength. As the investigator fell, Torna twisted his spear around and aimed the tip at his heart before thrusting it back, channeling his chaotic power through it. As dark energy coursed through the man, it danced off him in a sporadic waltz, the formless essence finding its place as a blast of malignant magic. It was strong enough to blast a large hole through the floor and kill a few onlookers too, but both Torna and the stranger were still alive, falling through the floor into the basement. The trespasser coughed as he felt his life being eaten away, and as he looked up to thrust his scimitar at Torna, he found himself staring down the open end of a very large metal pipe. Black powder was exceedingly rare, but the man knew what he was staring at, even if it was crudely homemade. The hyena snickered as he cocked this weapon, less gun and more like a pipe bomb with extra steps, and set his foot down on the man. "When you get to hell tell them Torna sent you. I could use a few more referrals."

    As he pulled the trigger, a huge explosion rang through the tavern, causing the second floor to collapse. Clearly the "gun" wasn't loaded with any proprietary ammunition, but with some sort of magic, and rather than firing like a firearm, it self-destructed. Torna's arm was blown completely off, but the investigator warded himself with a forcefield. Expressionless, he stood, taking advantage of the opening his foe created for him to decapitate him. "You fool... look at all of the death you caused for naught. Do you not have any care for anyone?"

    What the man wasn't expecting was a response. Suddenly, he felt the spear from before pierce through his chest and stay there as the magic surged once more. The tip caught fire, and his body was burnt from the inside out by the resulting hellfire. Torna was reformed, and relishing in his foe's defeat. "Why should I? There's no use for justice if folks like me aren't here to kill people!"

    The investigator couldn't respond. With no time to put up his wards, his lungs were burnt to a crisp, and the melting sensation was creeping up his throat. He just fell, and Torna cackled as he removed the scepter and wiped it against his robes. With a leap, he jumped back up to the first floor, and his eyes turned hungrily to the survivors...
  • War is never like it is in the stories.

    There is no good, no evil, in war. Only selfish hunger, the raw and primal desire to consume.

    For some, war is a fanciful thing. The nobility and the elites that sit high upon their marble thrones can revel at the supposed heroics of their soldiers, can laugh and cry as they gain and lose territory, shuffling lives around like pieces on a game board. They know nothing of war.

    For the rest, war is hell. And for me, it’s all I’ve ever known. My earliest memories are of violence. Distant shouting, the clash of steel, the hot air on my face as fire tore through my small village like a crazed lioness, devouring everything in its path. 

    I remember death, and after that, I remember chains.

    Slavery does things to a man. It hardens you, forges your will to survive and tones your body and mind. Should you survive the trials of sun and iron, sand and whips, you will come out on the other side unbreakable.

    I have survived my trial, and have earned my freedom. And I will no longer be forgotten in the stories of the world as my slain and enslaved brothers and sisters have been.

    I am Neseas, son of Antimedes and Pyratheia. A free man on a journey to change the world.

    Already, news of my exploits has preceded me as I travel south. The silver tongues of the nomads speak of a lone warrior, carrying nothing but the robe on his back and a fire in his heart. They say he fought off an entire battalion of soldiers using only a stave of olive wood plucked from a tree.

    This land is rich with stories. As I travel, I sit around fires with locals, listening, carving a record into my stave as I go. One such story tells of a long-forgotten kingdom, of a princess and her loyal retainer, blessed- or cursed- to take to the skies as birds. But I have heard the whispers that there is more to this legend, a powerful artifact lying somewhere, dormant, forgotten by time, for someone to uncover it. 

    For me to uncover it.

    I will head south, and from there, I do not know.

    For the story of Neseas has only just begun.



    A man with nothing to lose can do nothing but move forward, and Neseas is no exception. He’s defined by his momentum, passionate, determined, boisterous, always eager to push forward towards new horizons, and he wants to talk to everyone he meets along the way. Friendly to most, serious when he needs to be, stubborn when it gets the better of him, and intimidating if you deserve it, he cuts a simple figure, yet this simplicity hides a churning sea of emotions within him. Anger, hope, fear, desire, excitement. He’s not exactly sure what they are yet, but he’s certain he’ll figure it out in time, and with every new story he hears, he gets a little bit closer.

    Fighting style:

    The strength of an ox with the agility of, well, an ox, Neseas is strong but isn’t particularly dextrous. Years of breaking and hauling rock have made sure that he’s all muscle, and he can swing even considerably heavy objects with ease, but he’s no trained duelist. He wields his olive stave in a way somewhere between a two-handed longsword and a quarterstaff. Notably, as he fights, he recounts parts of stories he’s heard, and often these aspects manifest from his stave as small magical effects, or he’ll simply try to emulate what happens in the story.

    ​​Assorted Statistics:

    • Age: 24
    • Height: 6’
    • Hair color: Brown
    • Eye color: Brown
    • Alignment: Neutral Good
    • MBTI Type: ENTJ (TeSiNeFi)
    • Enneagram: 4w3
    • Greek zodiac: Aries
    • Hobbies: Listening and recording stories, myths, tales, and legends
    • Occupation: Nomad
    • Favorite food: Bread with cheese and olives
    • Favorite drink: Wine
    • Favorite flower: Gladiolus

    Power: A - His stave is made of some pretty hard wood, and he swings it pretty quickly with a lot of force behind it.

    Speed: B - While not as fast as a dedicated duelist, he’s no slouch and can get himself and his stave from one place to another faster than his opponents would like.

    Range: C - His stave is about as tall as he is, and with his long legs, this brings his effective range to several meters. No obvious long range attacks, but the stave could conjure something…

    Durability: A - Years of hard labor have made Neseas nearly indestructible, both in body and mind. His skin is calloused and thick, almost like leather, and his mind has never known the shame of giving up.

    Precision: C - He can hit hard and fast, but that means trading off precision. Usually for Neseas, ‘close enough’ is, in fact, enough.

    Potential: A - This land is rich with magic, and though he may not yet realize, his stave contains a lot of potential to manifest increasingly stronger aspects of his recorded stories.

    (Neseas will be pursuing stone #4 should he be chosen)

  • Lore 2 (+ instructions) - The lesser stones of heaven

    Not all stones are the same, and neither are they different. It is not completely known whatever the stones are different in their raw forms or if their abilities are consequences of what element they are exposed to or what they are used for at their early stage. 
    One popular belief is that the stones are like metals, iron, silver, gold. All metals are similar, all metals are different. Some can be sharpened into deadly weapons. Some can be formed and hardened into armor. Some work very well as mediums of magic. Some are very well suited for alchemy. The stones are the same, they can be used for much but they all have a certain thing they excel at.

    All stones can be used to channel energy for a fire, but stones of fire would be best at it, for it is running war for them. Like a piece of iron and a magnet. The iron is magnetic to magnets but the magnet is magnetic to magnets and most metals. But it is not always easy to find out what a stone does. A stone might be misjudged as a fire stone for its abilities but it is actually a lava stone but the stone has already been traded around as a fire stone. Stones does not speak so it is difficult know their names. The names we give them are but names. So when you receive a fire stone, how sure can you be that it is not actually a lava stone?

    Eight stones among others are out there. Eight stones with names, abilities and challenges.

    (1) The spirit gemstone that decorate a crown of a dead king controlled by spirits. Are the spirits using the stone to control the armor or is the stone giving life to the spirits that make the armor move?

    (2) What does the gemstone of illusions actually do? Does it summon illusions? Perhaps it is a trickster of minds or a stone that show what you desire? Perhaps its a stone of death seeking to kill you as you swim deep beneath the sand?

    (3) Crystalized magma. It has to be a lava stone. Perhaps it never was any lava and the rock gem just crystalized the rock already there? Perhaps its a geo gem that causes certain minerals in the rock to be drawn to each others and create crystals?

    (4) Why did the Sky amulet not work? Is it not supposed to give people the means to reach for the sky? Perhaps they where wrong about the stone. Is it a transformation gem or a gem of protection? What if it is a stone of wishes and the princess did not want to become human again?

    (5) An island filled with mist stones. Or are these also illusion stones? False stones? Lea stones? Perhaps they are all different stones with different abilites? Or they are all fake but one?  

    (6) The forge stone. A stone who's flame causes any molten metal to crystalize giving them devastating powers. A bullet fired from a crystallized gun will shatter against the iron armor of enemies sending burning slivers into his flesh. Or the canon balls that turn into a descending cloud of crystal flame that burn the skin and eyes of those poor ones beneath. A stone of destruction, a stone of suffering. Perhaps the forgemasters just found another use for an quake stone?

    (7) The stones of the twin snakes. It must be called so because it carries both cure and poison in one. Or its a soulstone, stealing the souls of others to provide the carrier with longer life? Perhaps a lifestone, deathstone? A stone of limbo.

    (8) Beauty and song can be enchanting by themselves. The gem of song and beauty just enhances them. But why are those who listen so malnourished like they need more. A stone of trance perhaps. The stone of love would be deadly in the wrong hands.

    So many names, but are they actually true?
  • Silence.

    A nearly imperceptible inward breath disturbs the deathly quiet like drop rippling across a still pond. It is a long while before the exhale.

    In the darkness, a figure sits motionless on a marble slab. Not a slab, a tomb. Only faint starlight illuminates the ragged cowl covering their form, and the countless tombstones littering the cemetery. A black iron scepter lies across their lap, a lightless lantern on one end. A small puff of condensation clouds the inky blackness as the figure takes another breath. Five minutes have passed since the last.

    The face shrouded by the hood is thin and pale, entirely devoid of hair, although its features suggest it belongs to a man. Although the face is still and smooth, something in it betrays an unnaturally old age. Hovering before the unmoving face, myriad ghostly visages flicker and fade, filling the hood with a dim, sputtering light. They dance and distort like the air on a hot summer's day, rapidly changing from a young woman, a little boy, a wizened old man.

    The flickering light of hundreds of burning torches reflect off of the spotless marble columns of a palace hall. Up a wide staircase, at the end of long, lavishly embroidered red carpet, sits an intricately carved marble throne. Here the same man sits deep in thought, chin in his hand. His heavy cloak is gone, although the iron scepter remains clutched in his other hand, its lantern aflame with an eerie blue light. 

    The man is bearing witness to a debate before him. Dozens of ghostly figures, some still bearing the marks of their demise, stand at the base of the stairs. Some speak, many are silent. As the man slowly nods his approval, he turns to the figure standing beside him. To the right of the throne, still as a statue, stands a ghostly knight in shining armor.

    The cemetery is suddenly illuminated by dozens of torches, the voices of angry men shattering the silence like a stone through a window pane. Another puff of condensation emerges as the man exhales sharply, his icy blue eyes flashing open. He does not move.

    The knight moves suddenly, drawing his sword and turning to the man on the throne. He leans forward, whispering something in his ear. 

    The man closes his eyes momentarily as his body shudders violently. His eyes roll behind their lids. 

    The man nods, rises from his seat, and presents the scepter to the knight. 

    An angry crowd becomes visible through the bars of the wrought iron fence. With a sharp clang, the chain snaps and the gate is breached. Ten, twenty, thirty men pour into the cemetery, torches and pitchforks raised high, circling the sitting figure. Some brandish their improvised armaments, some yell, some throw stones and produce.

    Reverently, the knight clutches the scepter in his right hand, turns, and sits on the throne.

    The man opens his eyes, now pure white.


    As the first rays of dawn stretch weakly from the horizon, the man emerges from the graveyard. Thick red blood and viscera cover his cloak like paint, running down his face and chest in viscous rivulets, hanging onto the hems of his cloak, and spattering onto the earth below.

    He swears under his breath and mutters to himself.

    "That was a bit much."

    There is no audible response.

    "Well, I guess they were asking for it. We just need to-"

    He pauses, leaning on a headstone, and vomits violently.

    "Ugh. We just need to get out of here before anyone else tries to lynch or stone me to death."

    Again, there is no response.

    The man lowers the blood soaked hood over his face, grips his scepter a little tighter, walks on.

    Id, the Wandering Vessel

    Id the Wandering Vessel

    Companion Card

    Ego Unavenged Apparition

    Additional Information
    • Age: Unknown, estimated to be between 120 and 150 years. 
    • Height: 5'9"
    • Weight: 127 lbs.
    • Hair Color: Bald
    • Eye Color: Pale blue
    • Alignment: Lawful neutral
    • Occupation: Id allows spirits who cannot pass on to the afterlife to inhabit his body. Some spirits use this to accomplish a task they must complete before passing on, while others choose to remain in this world and aid Id in his quests.
    • Personality: Id's personality is clouded by the dozens of souls sharing his mind and body. He sometimes suffers schizophrenic episodes and often prefers to talk to the spirits in his mind rather than the living. When he is clear minded, Id is generally quiet and reserved. In his view, the living are selfish, violent, and cruel, but the dead seek only peace and redemption. Id believes that as long as there is work to be done, souls to be saved, there is no time for rest or leisure. He sleeps only when he must, eats only to remain alive, and pursues no hobbies.
    • Fighting Style: Id is not a fighter by nature or profession. While he in not particularly fast or strong, he has learned to draw on the wealth of knowledge and experience living within him. In an instant, Id can give control of his body to any one spirit sharing his mind, allowing him to rapidly change his physical capabilities and technique. His only weapon is his heavy iron scepter whose lantern can channel magical energies drawn from the souls inside him, transforming the ghostly flame into swords, spears, wands, and tools of all kinds, depending on whoever is currently in control of his body.

    Should he be chosen, Id will seek the spirit gemstone (stone #1).
  • edited June 2023

    — Prologue 4: Firesticks and Gemstones

    Torna grunted and heaved from exhaustion as the last bit of foam fell from his mouth. 30 minutes had passed since The Old King's Death Bed collapsed, and the gremlin was covered nearly completely with blood, giblets, and soot. His rampage was finally starting to subside, but his crew still stayed as far away as possible, just in case he got a little too eager. It wouldn't be the first time he killed one of his own, after all; when the bar initially opened, he turned the first barkeep into a plant after he messed up his drink, then set the plant ablaze. He was unpredictable and dangerous to be around... everything about him, from his emotions to his powers, shifted at the bat of an eye, and while he was normally a cute (if raunchy) prankster, when he snapped, all semblance of human thought left him. That day was a reminder, and as he hunkered down to devour one of his victims, the reminder was more blunt than a hammer.

    After finishing his feast, Torna passed out in the middle of the smoldering wreck. As he drifted to sleep, he felt the feelings of carnal desire coming back... it was a nagging sensation he was all too familiar with, and yet, it wasn't The Abyss calling this time, goading him towards serving Septhis. Instead, in his mind, visions of death and carnage flashed in his dreams. Cities demolished. Seas turned to blood. A burning sky. Casting a shadow over all of it was a great, furred, draconian figure, miles too tall for Torna to see the face of as he looked upon it. It spoke in a deep, grumbling voice that shook him to his core, practically loud enough to kill him. "WELL DONE, SADISTIC SPIRIT. YOU HAVE PROVEN ONCE MORE WHY EVEN THE MOST INNOCENT SHOULD BE FEARED."

    Torna was cowering, whimpering, shaking. All he saw was the outline of something larger than any dragon he had witnessed, only it was standing on its hind legs. Was it a winged kobold? Some hybrid of a dragon and a wolf? And why was it glowing red? "What are you? What do you want?"


    Torna was confused. What were these stones? Why him? And what was this thing going to do to him if he didn't agree? Already he was constantly plagued by agents of Septhis, his wild magic occasionally being cursed with jinxes of bad luck. This thing looked like it could kill him with a glance! "Wh-why do you want me? There's so many others-"


    At that, Torna's ears perked up. The power to... alter reality? At his fingertips? At that, he felt his mind starting to click again, the temptations slipping in... his not-so-innocent side, who had considered so many contracts, but turned all of them down; The Abyss's fruit couldn't be enjoyed in the mindless state those creatures were in, so he denied it every time... even if he was horrifically interested. How about this creature though? No matter how he squinted, he couldn't see any sort of illusions going on here... and he couldn't wake himself up so this was clearly a powerful bond. "...what is the cost?"

    The figure let his body relax, and his smile became much more normal as he assumed a much more humanoid sized form. He put his hand on the gremlins shoulder, and took on a much friendlier tone. "There you are, Torna... the real you... I knew I could at least get you to consider. There will only be a cost if you fail me, and that is the eternal servitude of your immortal soul. Pinkie promise. If you want to read the fine print, you can when you sign the contract, but it'll just tell you what you already know; until the task is complete, no dilly-dallying. I'll know if you don't do your job."

    "That's it? Really?... that desperate, huh?..."
    "Desperate? PAH! We all deserve our liberty, even the lowest among us. If I took any more away from you with my terms it would be antithetical to my ends..."
  • edited June 2023
  • edited June 2023

    Introducing Torna Ruhan!

    Full Name: Torna Cornelius Ruhan
    Gender: Male(?)
    Species: Kobold/hyena mix
    Place of Origin: Somewhere near modern day Zumdala
    Currently Resides: Fleeing towards Ali Mina.
    Age: Biologically 16; has been alive for several centuries, but cannot recall the year of his creation.
    Height: 2'6" / 76.2 cm
    Weight: 24 lbs. / 10.88 kg
    Center Colors: Red/Black

    Alignment/Personality: Split personality; he's normally chaotic good, but triggers such as witnessing violence, smelling blood, or being tempted by power cause his chaotic evil side to come out. He really does try his best to be nice to those around him, even if his raunchy personality, vulgar language, and propensity for violence tend to turn this incredible sincerity into something of a bane for the recipient. When certain triggers cause him to snap, however, the true side of him inherited from The Mocking Voice rears its ugly head. Most would refer to this as a "murderhobo" mentality; Torna frequently ends up abusing his unpredictable magic to terrorize the populace and torture his enemies, and has even been known to indulge his wild side through acts of "hunting" and "scavenging". His good side tends to not remember much, if anything, that happens during these rampages, blocking out these terrible memories.

    The Pact of Chaos

    Patron Name: Tali Velel'dmoth
    Species: Kobold Demon
    Ranking: Demon God
    Place of Origin: Hell
    Currently Resides: Hell; trapped by binding magic.
    Center Colors: Red/Black

    Torna has forged a pact with Tali Velel'dmoth, the Father of Chaos, who is currently imprisoned in Hell. This demon god has been at war with the very forces he's created and enlisted since not long after the dawn of time. As more time passes, more defect to serve others. Most people seek proper leadership, but Tali refuses this. He believes that all should be unchained from societal contracts and constructs like law, even reality itself... that is why few would ever dare accept his blessing. His power has the potential to change the very fundamental building blocks of life itself, but when channeled through a conduit like a warlock, it is unfathomably hard to control.

    This contract seems like a blessing to Torna, but there's one caveat; Torna will lose his immortal soul if he fails his newfound master. This means that, if his performance is truly lacking, he may lose his self-resurrection powers.

    Torna's Powers

    Power: ?!?!?! - Torna's power can fluctuate incredibly wildly; one moment he can't kill a bunny, the next he accidentally destroys a village. It can fall between the low end of F and above A depending on his luck.

    Speed: D - Torna is extremely agile given his small body and miniscule weight, but as a day-drinker, he is prone to sudden bouts of dizziness or disorientation that may cause him to lose balance. No situation will ever make him drop the bottle... well, maybe except for not having any alcohol to drink.

    Range: ??? - Torna has cantrips that allow him to reach a decent range, but again, the powers that really matter could affect a huge area or literally just the ground beneath him.

    Durability: S - Torna is about as resilient as the next random person you can find, but it doesn't matter how easy you can be killed when you just come back. Opponents will require soul-damaging attacks or Tali's interference to bring him down for good. Tali may consider the contract broken and claim his soul if he is proving to be ineffective in his duties, or if he loses enough hope to give up.

    Precision: F - His cantrips are as accurate as most intermediate level mages, but his primary attacks using Chaos magic are literally uncontrollable. 

    Potential: S - Tali's blessing is currently restrained, but if given enough power, Torna may very well become a scourge to be feared and worshipped... just like his creator.

    Trying to pin down what Torna can do is like trying to predict what the weather will be this time next year; you can make broad estimates, but the specifics are always up to chance, and may vary entirely from your predictions. Excluding cantrips, he relies purely on Chaos magic, which can basically have any sort of effect you can imagine... and a lot of effects you can't. However, just like with the weather, there's usual behaviors to this kind of magic that occur more frequently than others. These include, in order from most common to least common:
    • Explosions
    • Fire
    • Negative energy blasts (for those that play D&D, think something like eldritch blast or disintegrate)
    • Summoning (fiends)
    • Transmutation (self)
    • Summoning (random creatures)
    • Transmutation (others)
    However, Torna has some things he can always rely on, like his scepter. He can use this to channel negative energy without relying on Tali's blessing, and it most commonly takes the form of an electric spear. Torna uses his small size combined with the spear's leverage to knock enemies down, vault himself onto high ground and across gaps, and attack from above. He also has access to certain cantrip attacks:
    • Lava darts, fired either as one large dart or several tiny darts.
    • Fire wisps, primarily used to set flammable objects on fire.
    • Mild negative energy manipulation; he uses this to make his scepter a spear, and to blast his enemies with bolts of negative energy. (Totally not just eldritch blast, what are you talking about)
    • Incredibly short-range telepathy for one sentence communication with people he can see. Used almost exclusively for insults.
    • His signature cantrip, a bolt of undulating, prismatic energy. He usually doesn't use it because it's slow travelling, but it has a random elemental effect on impact.

    Misc. Info

    Orientation (Might be relevant for scenes other people make considering his personality): Polyamorous homosexual; true personality is an aromantic pansexual.
    Hobbies: Drinking, playing the bagpipes, singing, storytelling, tinkering (DON'T LET HIM); true personality has no hobbies and gets his thrill out of human suffering.
    Favorite food: Sweet rolls; true personality prefers raw meat and abhors sweet things.
    Favorite drink: Honeyed mead, with sweet whiskey cocktails coming in close second; true personality prefers straight liquor and drinks from the bottle.
    Favorite color: Purple; true personality prefers crimson and ashen grey.
    Favorite music genre: Irish/Scottish folk music; true personality hates music because it hurts his sensitive ears.
    Favorite season: Doesn't like the outdoors, and has no preference; true personality actually agrees with him on the outdoors but prefers winter.
  • edited June 2023

    Just realized the stones are missing, but there's not really any more room. Expect me to just include that in his first story bit, but for now, here's the stones he's pursuing first in order of priority:

    1. The stones of the twin snakes; Fits him best!
    2. The gemstone of illusions: Perfect for a chaotic trickster.
    3. The stone of the forge: A stone of war for the God of Chaos? Count me in!
  • edited June 2023
    @Jonteman93 - Question!

    This Tournament isn't an actual Tournament in the story, since there are no hosts. And the characters wander around the land on their own in search of these stones. Does it mean that the players won't be able to interact with each other in the game?

    It wouldn't be possible in the limits of the story, since their characters would be far away from each other most of the time, until they reach a stone's location and fight for it in a match. I suppose they don't have any kind of hub in the world where they could form alliances/rivalries with each other?
  • @TenebrisNemo No it is not like an ordinary tournament, though it is kind of a contest in lore where people celebrate for their heroes to gather the stones. Not just for the contest but for the greater conflict.

    Players will be able to interact if they meet each other somewhere on the map though as earlier mentioned there is no set amount of people chasing these stones so neither are there any hosts to present the contestants, well unless the heroes are celebrated and/or presented to and by their side, faction or community.

    One could say that Monastir acts as a kind of hub, though not with open arms for those that are enemies to the country. I was planning on having this as the set off of the contest but have due to earlier mentioned reason had the story set off from there instead leaving the contestants to choose their own starts.
  • edited June 2023
  • #TornaToC6

    Part 1 — Heaven For Hell


    Mile after mile has passed by along Torna's arduous journey. He's always been a rascal, but at least to his brighter side he hadn't done anything enough to be a criminal... until that day. He was awoken in the ruins of his tavern by his surviving staff. Seeing piles of bone strewn about the rubble, combined with three more missing staff, he realized it... he was too much of a threat; he was a criminal now. No way no one was going to question the disappearance of dozens, even if his tavern was a good distance away from the nearest town... so he fled, taking none of his allies with him. He couldn't risk losing any more.

    During the day, Torna hides wherever he can to rest, in crates and barrels, ditches, or even in the crawlspaces of people's homes. At night, he runs, making his way towards the Khozan border. Throughout his journey, he's conversed with Tali, learning more about his past and the conflict in the Hells, as well as receiving his first orders in northern Bigara...

    "Hello, my servant," the voice of the demon rings in Torna's ear. He jumps, forgetting what his sinister side had gotten him into, and hides in a nearby bush. "Silly creature... it's me, Tali. I couldn't help but notice that you've been so... tame about all this. I thought you would be rearing to use your newfound power, to feel some liberty, to erase your fear of capture by knowing you are now too great to be stopped by some pawns."

    Torna sighs, and his next words come out hesitantly. "My concern is that I don't want a bloody bounty on me... I'm pretty sure the Zumbalans want me head for treason!"

    "Treason is a construct under kings... a despicable one at that, wouldn't you agree?"

    Torna twitches, Tali tapping into his temptations; he was purpose made to haunt tyrannts, and even in a bright light he thought them despicable. They're just like normal people, yet they believe they're somehow able to tell a whole nation of people how to live their lives! It was hysterical, how someone could say they're higher than everyone and just be believed. He spent so long pondering the thought that it drove him insane! "I lit'rally couldn't disagree if my life depended on it."

    The disembodied voice chuckles, and breathes a sigh of satisfaction. "Good, because both our livelihoods depend on us making this work. And who knows? Maybe once I've garnered enough power I can aid you more directly. With that in mind, can you trust me?"

    Torna gulps, his black, draconic tail flicking. "What sorta... aid? I don't want to indiscriminately kill civilians!"
    "Let me tell you that my methods are quite discriminate. They are intentionally aimed to wipe out large civilian populations."
    "That's not how that bloody well works!"
    "That's exactly how it works with me. Every death is another chance to spread discord, but by killing everyone in a population, unnecessary suffering is limited. Families die together. Friends die together. Other populations are affected by the loss without such an extreme emotional impact. They will fear it will happen to them next, instead of seeking to avenge their fallen comrades."

    Torna stands in wide-eyed shock and silence, grabbing his gut, and he suddenly vomits in disgust. He knows his evil side is bad, but making friends with someone that thinks like this?! What has he gotten into?! "Gods! What the actual hell is wrong with you?! Is your mouth a cesspool?!"
    "Right and wrong are subjective to me, little one. You should be willing to do whatever I ask; working against my will is only antithetical to my-"
    "Love... please. This is the tenth time ya said 'antithetical to me ends' today. If ya care so much about ya ends just lemme do what I want."
    "...who addresses a demon as-"
    "I'm not cut for slaughter. I can bout barely bring meself to kill a king, but that's 'bout it."
    "...shameful. Slaughter is exactly why I made my pact with you. You turn your other you's experiences into whimsical stories and tell them with pride. So, why don't you tell me the truth and stop denying it? You may think this as who you truly are, but nothing will stop the voice inside from taking over. You're a bomb waiting to explode, but you can't see the fuse. Through me, you will finally be able to control that fuse, and perhaps even extinguish it. To truly understand yourself, you must understand my mindset and the shifting tides of Chaos. Are you listening?"

    Torna's ears bend down, and he cowers. He knows that if he pushes too far against this fiend, his contract is forfeit; he will be made to serve by force. And. worse, he hears footsteps coming to investigate the mysterious spew of acid, which reeks of alcohol and game. "...I... s'pose I can't say no. Just... don't yell at me if I don't watch what happens..."

    Two hours later...

    Khoza. He didn't know how many people he killed to cross the border in, but he was safe now... relatively at least. Now, he would be dealing with a bigger problem.

    "Now, for why you are here, Torna," the voice spoke. "I'm sure you will be excited, so I kept this a secret. Here, we will find the stone of music, love, and beauty, of performers and trance. It is held by a curious singer in one of the halls here, but my connection with this world is too weak for me to give more detail. This stone is the perfect fit for your talents; it should give you improved control over your magic, I'm sure, and allow you, perhaps, to use your talents and demeanor to manipulate the holders of the other stones. Maybe it'll even make your bagpipe sound like a real instrument."

    Torna cocked his head, exhausted and sick to himself, but curious. "That does sound rightly useful... Wait! WHAT YA BLOODY MEAN BAGPIPES DON'T-"
    "Don't worry about it. You will not need your bagpipes to win a battle, or to grab my stones for me. This, however, will aid you in doing so  Any other questions?"
    "Are you, like, sure you can't at least gimme a better estimate of locality? Like, what area, what performance hall or theater, hell. Even knowing vaguely what she looked like would help."
    "Bossy, are we? Well, she has a mostly average appearance, with the one exception being her olive complexion. My visions aren't great enough, however, for me to look further."
    "...a hag mayhaps?"
    "Not that I would know."
    "Ah. Anything else? Even whereabouts?"
    "That is all. Now, go on, child. You've proven you're worth my continued guidance. Now go and make me proud..."
  • Bump

    [Deadline ends soon]
  • edited July 2023
    A streak of purple blazes out of a rift of the abyss, too fast to make out a form. Not far away, a figure drags itself upright from a small indent in the ground. 

    “[Where are we now?]”
    “{Where were we before?}”
    “(That is unimportant. Importance lies in where we go next.)”
    “[Rash action without knowledge is bound to fail, and this place feels very unfamiliar.]”
    ”(And you can find out where this is without action? No, Fury, we got here by motion and further motion is necessary to continue our existence.)”
    ”{Zeal is right. I feel that our motion so far is our reason for existing. We remember very little, but the one thing we know is that event that got us here, that 
    action, that… speed…}”

    A short silence as the figure stands upright, seeming to take in its surroundings.

    ”(This world is far from our own.)”
    “[And where would our own be?]”

    Another silence.

    “(It is not our past which matters now, whatever might have been. Our purpose in the present moment should be our new focus.)”
    “[A purpose built on nothing is emptiness stacked on emptiness. Zeal.]”
    “{But our past is not empty. There remains the flicker of the flame from whence we came.}”
    “(Hope is right. Our means by which we exist must hold our reason to continue. Our reason for existence…”)
    ([{“…is speed.”}])

    I now present my champion for this Tournament,
    Seven, Last of the Vae’Vyn

  • @Tonysparks vs. @AxNoodle is going to be utter chaos
  • Update
    Since we are still too few for the contest to begin I will postpone the deadline to 9th of July. Hopefully that will be enough. If we still have not reached 16 players we'll do with what we have and I'll fill the empty positions with NPCs. If we have not even reached 8 players however then the tournament will most likely be cancelled.
  • Good thing there's a delay; I need to correct a problem with my companion card!
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