Setting: A medieval fantasy world called Eomurle [ay (as in 'hay') oh MERE ul]. The lands have long been divided by petty conflicts and false religions, so when the men from the northern Blacklands descended, the races were powerless to stop them. This RPG takes place when the elves are nearly extinct, the humans are driven into a corner, and dwarves are safe for now in their mountain refuge (more races may be added as we go).

^I thought that plot up in three minutes, so feel free to add to it

Name: Reyas Shademr [RAY us SHADE mere]
Gender: Male
Race: Dark Elf
Age: a few centuries (appears to be around 28)
Occupation: ranger/assassin/scout

Weapons: twin shortswords; daggers; an elven ash bow and quiver of arrows slung over his back

Personality: quiet and reserved; unpredictable; ruthless; self-serving; determined and nearly obsessed with dealing vengeance

Appearance: ragged dark hair; startling blue eyes; gaunt but tanned face; lanky frame

History: He was born among the dark elves and raised by them. He was taught their elegant but treacherous ways, and was trained to be an assassin. His mother was burned by charlatan priests and his father betrayed by his own kind. He was sent to live with a dark elf priestess, and gained his first experience by murdering her. Since treachery was applauded among his kind he managed to obtain all her property and her rank. When the black men came from the north, the dark elves were defeated from within by further treachery. The black men slaughtered all of Reyas's people, and only by stroke of luck did he manage to escape. Now he roams the land in the disguise of an old human beggar.

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If i may?
Name: Rhavaniel
Race: High Elf
Age: N/A
Gender: Female
Hair: raven black
Eyes: shimmering green
Occupation : High Archress of the realm, princess (sounds awfull^^)
Weapons: A bow, arrows with green and gold feathers, and the sword of her father
Looks:
Tall with long raven hair. She has sea-green eyes and a pale complexion. Rhavaniel wears mostly green tunics and lofty white shirts, offten with a short white skirt

Personality: Hot tempered, protective, loyal, helpfull, secretive, arrogant

History : Her father was a ruler of the dark elves and had very straight forward ideas to her upbringing, he was assasinated though, and her mother ruled alone, teaching her daughter how to become a lady. Her twin brothers Megli and Orodreth secretly taught her swordsplay and archery. Soon after, her mother was called away to a distant land, and never returned. Megli became ruler, and made her high archress.

Other : A knack for wandering off, and getting he4rself into trouble.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

^thanks for joining. just a question... is she a high elf or a dark elf? you mentioned both....

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ehem... what other races might there be? Minotaurs? Centaurs?

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Umm... High Elf

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Name: Zalrak
Gender: Male
Race: Lizarmen

Occupation: Warlord(Leader of his people)

Weapons: A steady Halberd received from his dead father and a short sword on his belt, wears a grey light scale armour with golden dragon decorations, sharp bracers used as weapons when all others might be lost.

Personality: Has a cunning personality, seeking new right for his people that he thought were stolen from them as his people`s dragon leaders were defeated under his grandfathers rule.

Appearance: 5`7 a small one among his people, but yet a sturdy fighter. Has a blue skin that has some what green touch in it like the rest of his people whom live by the water. Has superb swimming skills like the rest of his kin, red orange lizard eyes and a long tail powerful used in swimming, as a weapon and helps them stay in balance. Sharp claws in his hand and feet.

History:

Earned his rank from his father who died in an ambush by elves when the lizards tried to find new living paces from the east of their terrirtories and so Zalrak became the warlord of his people. Their shaman`s might have their power in spiritual issues, but when it comes to war and leading in true matters it falls to Zalrak. He lived a normal life under his father and learned to fight all tough very small in his peoples eyes. Zalrak seeks to uphold his people`s honour and one day conquer all the lands known to them basing an empire of considerable power not to mention he seeks dragons to restore the old bonds with the great beings.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

I'll go ahead and begin....

At first glance it seemed that an army of thousands was camped out as far as the naked eye could see. The campers huddled around small fires, shivering in the chill of the night and wrapped in their threadbare garments. They talked little, had little to talk about. Their faces were expressionless, devoid of both fear and sorrow. They had poured out their tears, poured out the sorrow that filled rivers, and now all that remained were cold unfeeling husks that sat unmoving on the bleak wasteland that had once been their home. The stench of death, of illness and blood, was heavy in the air.

So thought Reyas as he wove his way among the expanse of refugees, stepping over those who had dropped from plague. The death no longer bothered him. Neither did the wails of fitful babes, the laments of loss, and those who sat in silence more oppressing than anything else. The dim firelight flickered on his hunched frame, shielding from view the pointed ears that were his heritage and the mark of the dark elves engraved on his shortswords. Those marks stood for nothing now. Reyas could not love, having been brought up in a world that had renounced the petty sentiments of the heart. And yet... that was what it was. His world - the world of august ancestry and fell enigma, of consuming malice and ambition. Obliterated. Devoured by the fires of the black men and left to rot in the shifting sands of time.

In his broodings he stepped over the hem of his drab cloak and nearly tripped himself. His lip curled in derision aimed at his own self. What did he care now? Let him be caught and brought to death like the rest of his people. He was the last dark elf on Eomurle. What did he care if the dark elves became extinct forever?

Staggering past the small flickering fires that did little to warm or illuminate, he made his way to the edge of the refugee camp and stared out. It was a barren plain. A wasteland. And behind him... the human refugees that were the embodiment of his loss.

Dropping to his knees, he tried to cry. But the war had sucked his soul dry and shoved it to prostrate before the altar of death, and his tears would not come.

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Name: Jaxson Pax (but no one knows that)
Those who know him call him the X. X standing for unknown.
Is a master of disguise and can cause himself to look like early anything he wants. Is an elusionist and an excelent fighter.


Personality: Quiet, concerning yet not helpfull, determined, cares little for his own life or the life of others, cares very little about anything.


Chosen Name and appearance are as followed.

Name: X

Weapons: Dager, sword, throwing knives.
appearance: 6 feet tall, medium build, long black hair, worn black pants shirt and long overcoat with no sleaves.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

The night swept over the lands of the lizardmen, torches were light to show they way in their villages over the shallow waters and the only fortress of the lizardmen rose on a green island. It was built in the time of the dragon`s, these days the lizardmen weren`t much of builders, but were able to at least keep their only shield repaired from time to time.

Snarling between his teeth Zarlak sat on his stone throne with his head leaning heavily on his hand, his lands would be under threat soon unless he did something, but at least he had yet time to prepare. The only nuissance in his way were the refugees that took short routes to safety trough their lands in the night. Currently a pair of elves stood before him on their knees, what weak mongrels they were in the end when they were caught in hand to hand combat where their bows were no use.

The shamans on his side whispered to each others as the guards stood on the prisoners sides, the elves were armless and were clearly intimitated by this warlord with his cold stare. Zarlak walked down the two stairs on his throne before him and grabbed the other by the chin, a male whom still just stood proud on his knees watching in to the lizards eyes. Zarlak snarled again shaking the elf`s head back and forth.

"How does it feel you murdering elf? To just stand there on your knees with your homelands in ruins after the dark men burned your homes? It is a shame that I didn`t have the pleasure of vengeace on your people, but all good things for those who wait...."

Zarlak hissed and slapped the elf who tried to get up, Zarlak looked at the shamans and guards.

"Take them away for interrigation and leave me alone..."

The shamans left to attend their own business as Zarlak turned to watch at the horizon from the window, the stench of war and chaos was in the air, if he could strike down the tired mongrels spreading from the north he could claim everyone`s lands for his own rule quickly and decisivly. Then he would only need to crush the rest of the kingdoms and the mere remnants of the elves. He create his empire and find the dragons, even awaken them from their long slumber if they were in such and give them his empire. Of course staying in control of the lands....

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

( I will use Jaxson Pax for his name since that is his name, but others only know him as X)

Jaxson walked out amongst the dead bodies that lay like dust after a storm. But it didn't bother him, he frankly didn't care.

Jax was here fo rone reason, to stop those who did this. (by the way who did do this?)

Jax was the best highered killer on the earh, and nothing was going to stand in his way. He had been payed a great deal to fight, and after it was over he would colect his reward, one way or another.


As he watched Jax noticed a dark elf walking out by himself. He was troubled by the situation it seemed. But not like the others sitting around the fires.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

Rhavaniel rode well. That was clear from the way she sat, the way she held herself, and the way her horse obeyed her. Her brother Megli rode beside her, his golden crown in contrast with is hair, as black as his sisters. The woods were beautifull, encvlosing the kingdom of Arzeroth, the strongest of
the remaning elf kingdoms.

A deer flitted past a wy off, and immideatly, the two elves tore after it, more to simply catch up with it than kill it. They flew after it, driving the horses to their limits. And then they broke free of the woods. The deer changed direction and leapt away, away from the scene in front of it. Many little tents were set up, as if for an army camping on its way to battle. Their horses shied, one dappled grey, the other a glossy black.

"What is that brother?" Rhavaniel asked carefully, gazing hard."An army?"-"I think we should get back now Rhan." He replied, not meeting her eyes. "So 'tis an army?"-"Not directly no...Come, let us go back..." But the younger elf's curiosety was awake now, and she urged her horse into a slow trot down from the land that they stood on now, onto the barren land, and then up to the encampment. Her brother sighed, and followed her hand on swordhilt.

Soon she came to realise that this was not the encampment of an army, there were to many women and children around. The children scurried away from the two elves, running to tell their fathers or mothers.

"What is this brother?" Rhavaniel asked again, as an old woman turned away from them, the fear showing in her eyes.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Jaxson cought sight of two elves riding towards the campsight and moved secretly there way. He had his throwing knives in his hands as he moved closer to here the conversation that was going on.

Soon from behind he jumped out, sword pointing towards them.

"Who are you?" he asked the two elves in a stern voice.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

Reyas, so occupied with his thoughts, nearly stumbled right into a black-haired man in his path. He didn't bother to murmur an apology, but only stepped sideways to pass. The dawn was breaking over the horizon, and the refugees would be breaking camp to move again.

They moved slowly, the imbeciles. They were headed south across the lizardlands, towards the only human kingdom left standing. How low had he stooped? he wondered bitterly. He traveled in the company of humans, dressed as a human beggar, going with them to the last human refuge. Years ago he had the temple and a host of slaves to oblige to his every whim. And now... Where else could he go? He would permit himself to stoop no lower, even to flee to the remnants of the high elf forests. The forests would burn. The entire continent would burn. But not before he slew the ones guilty for destroying his homeland.

He looked back. His keen elvensight detected two elves on horseback standing at the edge of the wood. Your time will come, he told them silently. When the black men come and obliterate your sunlit forests like they obliterated our dark ones, you will see.

The refugee line began moving at a slow, meticulous pace. If lucky, they would reach the southlands in time. If not, the black men would find them along the way.

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"Lady Rhavaniel, and my brother king Megli." Rhan replied, hand on her bow. "You?"The kings horse pawed the ground nervously, yet her horse stood stilly, its gold coloured eyes glinting menecingly.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Zalrak was tired of hearing news and reports about the refugees running trough their lands, he hissed quietly to himself as he looked out of the window. The only way to their fortress was on ships, the lizards had some of them, but they mostly swam over the gap between the main land and the island.

However Zalrak mostly hated swimming in his armour and it was far more dfficult so he would use a ship, a younger lizard walked out of the side door as Zalrak walked to his armour, which the young one helped him to put on. Zalrak was soon walking down the stairs after having his weaponry & armour put on, he arrived at the courtyard of the fortress with full of his soldiers either n watch or preparing to follow their warlord to a patrol.

Zalrak jumped on his horse, which seemed quite odd, but Zalrak knew that no army was effective without cavalry forces and had ordered to train smaller sized lizards for the task so that they wouldn`t be too heavy for the horses. The patrol of 30 lizards rode out of the fortress and arrived soon after a small ride trough the forest to the ships. They went over the gap in 15 minutes and departed on their way, after an hour of riding they arrived to a small hill. He could see a line, a line of refugees moving trough his lands! Zalrak hissed in rage, clearly they weren`t respected by the others and he ordered his men forwards directly towards the refugees as an attempt to intimidate them.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"My name has been forgoten for a long time, I have no true name. If you are not of the enemy I sugest you leave before you get yourself mixed up in this fight." he replied.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!