Far outside space. Outside this 'planet' humans call home. There exists a place. It has many...
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor
- Thread starter Birdsie
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- Original Fantasy
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Prologue: Lost Hope
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Far outside space. Outside this 'planet' humans call home. There exists a place. It has many names.
The Nether. The Void Below. The Gulf Beyond. The Pit. The Abyss. Tartarus. Or, most commonly, Hell.
A vast majority of the realm is a scorched desert of black ash with a gray ashen sky. A transcendent, malignant darkness covers this desert, like an aura that sucks away all hope from it. Every kilometer or so, an empty soul may be going through, hoping to one day find the sweetness of freedom, however, anyone such soul will start losing their sight. Whether in a day, a week, a month, or even a year – hope rots in here. It thrives at first, in the minds of those who enter, then it stagnates; the mind becomes filled with doubts, and then it dies and decays until it is gone. All of their emotions are replaced by cynism and anger.
These souls don't have hope because they are abandoned. They are left alone. They can't find each other because the dark complexities of the realm's magic keep them from going to each other, changing their tracks constantly, despite the fact that it the realm is but a wasteland with not even rocks or plants to adorn the ground and obscure their line of view. Perhaps that is why it is so depressing. Some souls are even aware there must be others, but the fact they can't find each other is the nail in the coffin to any hopes they may have. They search desperately and endlessly, then they give up and begin regretting their life, asking themselves: 'Why am I here?'
...
That is when They arrive. They look for such souls. Red devils swoop down from the sky with their bat-like wings. Two of them, most of the time. They grab the soul by its spectral arms and lift it into the sky, bringing them in a specific direction of the desert – the very center of the realm. The center of hell.
This center looks almost like a quarry, where miners would dig for coal or iron, except it is fully out of black rock and it has many levels. These levels are like steep cliffs, often two or more kilometers in height, with walls of black rock and burnt branches of what can barely be called plant life. This ladder of torment is where the demons bring these souls. They first go through a gate of cold metal, on which a message is written in large, gothic letters. The message says "ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE," perhaps as a commandment to these red demons, that only souls who had given up can be allowed through. The truth is, they are deprived of hope to act for a certain role.
As such, it is a quarry of numerous circles, full of various demons, malignant spirits, and cynical souls of the dead. These souls who are admitted through are like slaves – and at the same time – currency of Hell. That is their role, and without hope, they fulfill it obediently. Their demonic masters do many things with them. Turn them into imps as a form of promotion into a low-rank demon with chances of more promotions, devour them for magical energy, or simply keep them around.
A low-rank demon, such as some kind of minor tempter, soldier, artist, and similar, will often receive a payment of one soul per what is accepted as the typical 'week,' in here, or some other wage of a similar quantity. This economy is very important to keep the demons happy and productive. Although mana is lost much slower in a magical realm like Hell; where it is plentiful, even demons would devolve over months into thoughtless beasts without being fed, and in years, they would become untethered clumps of unthinking energy. The truth is, Hell is a dying realm, with dying leylines, so demons feed on beings from other realms to live.
Regardless, these lesser demons are the peasantry of Hell. Of course, the higher-ups always get it better. Even in Hell, communism somehow wasn't constructed yet.
A Greater Demon will often receive five souls per 'week.' These would be veteran warriors, famous artists, dealers of souls that do some dirty work for mortals or keep on watch for potential summoners and witches in exchange for sacrifices. An exception would be the Knights of Hell; the veterans of veteran elite warriors of Hell, who receive even twenty at the very least, but this is partly because they expend a vast majority of their energy quickly after fighting and need to replenish it, so they are given more of them. A better machine will be harder to maintain. That kind of logic.
Whereas the standard Infernal Noble; also called a Lord will receive up to forty, already making them substantial, but the mechanics of 'receiving souls' and 'having a higher rank' often overlap. It is simply that Hell's leaders value minions that are self-sufficient, capable, and loyal. Therefore, if they see someone who is a skillful obtainer of souls, he is more likely to be promoted to a role of leadership or other influence. It is not too rare to hear of a former Knight of Hell being slain by a standard Greater Demon who happened to get lucky and took his position, in addition to his influx of souls.
Then come the Overlords. They get anywhere from two-hundred to two-hundred and fifty souls per week. Their mealtimes are insane and full of screaming, but they often can't eat up everything they won, so they use the tortured souls as money to order other demons around. Like I said; the mechanics overlap. Those with more money get to hire other demons as underdogs. An Overlord will typically keep at least one Knight of Hell around to be their bodyguard, vassal, and war advisor, if not more. The odd Overlord sometimes has even the income of three-hundred and fifty, or similar numbers. And that's nothing. Overlords, despite being on the stage for influence, are hardly even a part of the bigger picture. A lucky Overlord might rule over several acres or even a segment of one of the circles.
After them are the big players. The Archdemons, who rule the stage. There are often five, maybe six Archdemons per circle. They oftentimes keep several Overlords and numerous Lords on a leash as their vassals, including coteries and teams of elite Knights of Hell and other warrior demons as their fighting forces. These guys are where the influence is at. They can arrange an audience with the Demon Emperor to present their plans, issues, ideas, or complaints to him, although the wait for one is always long. Their income is at least a thousand, and a thousand souls is barely enough for you to be considered a 'poor' Archdemon to be quickly eliminated by the opposition lest you reinforce your power.
That's where the true rulers come in. Ever wanted to live in the elite? The top class of society? The Dukes of Hell is where it's at. The direct vassals of the Demon Emperor, each ruling over one of the ten circles in his name. They obtain tens of thousands of souls weekly, maintaining control over the other demons easily. They hire armies of Knights of Hell and rule over Archdemons with an iron grasp. If they want to speak to the Demon Emperor, they can do so when they want - after all, they are His representatives and loyal subjects.
And then comes the big guy running the show. The Demon Emperor. Mortals call him The Adversary, for he is the greatest and most ancient of demons. He runs the show in this perpetual quarry of human torment and diabolical greed and madness. He runs it in perpetuity to ensure he is never overthrown and everyone is loyal to him. Because he rules over all of the souls, he can consume ten and turn one into a potent soldier, creating armies to destroy any who would oppose him.
He rules hell from his black, metallic tower at the smallest, bottom circle. Weirdly enough, this palace is as tall as the pit of Hell itself, so that the very top, where the throne room is, peeks just outside into the wasteland around the realm. It is the first thing that all tortured souls see when they enter the pit through the gate telling them to abandon hope, for that word on the gate is a commandment of the Demon Emperor himself. To keep them obedient. To maintain perpetuity.
And who are you? One of the tortured souls? One of the Archdemons? A Duke of Hell? No. That's all incorrect. You are none other than the Demon Emperor himself. You are him, but only for now...
"Sire, they are breaking into the throne room," a voice calls to you, desperately.
You look forward, as a small creature runs up to you from the now-locked doors to your current location. In front of you is your humble imp, who has acted as your retainer for the past ten years. You change them every so often. "Too bad," you answer quite dryly and absently.
"But... my lord..." The imp's reptilian pupils adjust to the sight of your murky face. "They will... they will..."
You sit upon your throne. Made out of black, stygian steel, with several red pillows. At the top of the throne, there are three large fires of magical energy of red color. Behind the throne is a window showing the circles of Hell as well as the eternal wasteland you ruled over. You tap your fingers on the support of your hand, sighing. The other hand supports your bored if angry aspect.
You monologue about the late events. "My empire is in crumbles."
You look out the window. The entirety of the pit is much louder and brighter than it typically is. Demons with torches and pitchforks of red steel walk the streets, killing soldiers loyal to you and overthrowing your banners with their new ones. A revolution against you, orchestrated by a third of the Dukes. Quite ironic, since it was with the help of a third of the angels that you tried to overthrow the Gods in the Heavens.
The only difference is that you failed.
"My people hate me and want me dead. Mortal hunters will destroy me as soon as I set foot upon the surface of the planet. Gods will obliterate my very being if I come to apologize after all these years. My damnedest of damned souls is rejected by the very damned I ruled over – because they are all greedy and want to take my position. There is nowhere to run. I can only accept reality as it is, Bramblefur," you call the servant by his affectionate pet nickname you gave him.
The imp watches you for a second, his lips wavering in sadness, and two tears leaving his red eyes in horror.
He doesn't want to show weakness in front of you, both of you know that, but you forgive him. Your, and his soul, will be destroyed. There is nothing after that. Entropy. Nothingness. Nonexistence. You understand and share your servant's pain and horror, so you don't intend to punish him for it. Besides, it would be meaningless to do so now. Even if you were to lash strength into him, it wouldn't help against the hundreds of thousands of rebel soldiers, knights, lords, and common demons who want your head on a red, burning pike in front of your palace because of propaganda about you 'withholding souls for yourself' or 'being tyrannical and cruel.'
Truth be told, you knew this day would come. One day. Perhaps in a few days after the War In Heaven. Perhaps years. Perhaps hundreds. It appears your subjects needed a thousand to grow malicious enough to no longer be thankful for you providing an energy source for them...
You snap. These thankless children. They are all fools. Utter, arrogant, despicable morons. They have no such word as gratitude in their dictionaries. Without you, they'd be in a similar situation as the very souls they devour every day to exist. You only did what had to be done. You preserved your people. You kept your promises. You did all in your power to overthrow Heaven, but you failed. Can you be blamed for that? Perhaps. But this... this takes it too far.
"You... ungrateful..." words leave your mouth, as you grasp your face in terror, your arms shivering. A pair of cursed tears stream down your cheeks. You used to be an angel once. A creature of light. A creature of love and purity. Something that represented beauty and virtue.
Now, you're called the adversary by mortals. Angels hate you. And now, your subjects, too, hate you. You are hated and despised by at least ninety percent of the universe, with at least ninety percent of that ninety percent being entities that would gladly destroy you if they had the opportunity, and the other ten percent being those who would go out of their way to do so. Your countless flaws are the only things they can see now.
You raise your head and look at your imp as soon as the banging to the throne room door starts. "I want vengeance for this." You grit your teeth angrily.
"Vengeance, sire?" the imp asks, referring to something you told him long ago.
His question causes the anger stirred up in you to stop. Your face becomes calm suddenly.
"No... not vengeance," you correct yourself. "Vengeance is an emotional response. No, not vengeance... Punishment."
The imp nods. "Sire, but, you yourself said, there is no way out of this situation."
"There may not be a way for me to achieve correction, Bramblefur. But there may be a way. You were loyal to me, so I promote you."
You flick your wrist. Suddenly, the small, emancipated creature that your imp used to be, grows tall. He becomes humanoid, at least eight feet in height, covered from head to toe in a red-black carapace similar to that of an insectoid.
"My plan is simple, so listen to me..."
...
That night, the Demon Emperor was killed. But his servants. All those who were loyal to him suddenly disappeared from Hell. With a flash, as if they were teleported away to parts unknown. No magic was able to track their existence, as if they disappeared from the world itself, removed firmly from the anchors of reality. All save for his loyal servant, who said all he knew, and then swore oaths to the Dukes of Hell and continued to serve the next Demon Emperor.
You are...
[] First Name. (Write-in.)
And you're a...
[] Boy.
[] Girl.
You are the great, great, great [and so on, and so on...] grandchild of one the greatest heroes of these times, known as Baragar, who you get your surname after.
Typically, a word has two components: sound and meaning. The sound it makes when spoken and the meaning it has in context to a particular language.
But your surname has a third component to it, more esoteric than the first both. Namely: weight. Your soul has to carry the Baragar surname and it is not an easy weight to carry. The bar is set high for you. With each family member, the bar of achievements you need to make to become even slightly famous and recognized as an individual hero becomes higher. Slaying a dragon is nothing for you. You need to aim higher than that because your mother's dragon-slaying record is already in the dozens. In fact, many standing in your place would be cynical. Most of the achievements you make, no matter how grandiose, you will not be credited for, simply because you are already expected to make them. You will not be judged as an individual, but as a Baragar.
The fame of your family is insane.
They write about Baragar and your bloodline in school textbooks, scholars study your ancestors' deeds and keep track of them, and families of peasants tell the deeds of your elders to their children.
Whenever you introduced yourself, even in a mundane situation such as when shopping for groceries, you would always be asked: "Wait, you mean that Baragar?" when you say your surname, with huge disbelief from everyone.
People would swarm any village you and your mother traveled through just to stare with awe. Most of them didn't even have either the bravery or self-control to walk up and, say, do something like ask for an autograph.
Every social situation is, for you, an inescapable prison of discussing your (in comparison to your elders,) lackluster stories and deeds. When you mention you helped kill a dragon, the typical response is a sigh of boredom, with the conversant mentioning that dragon-slaying gets old really quickly, especially if you didn't do it yourself.
Ever since your great, great [and so on...] grandfather's death, your ancestors took over his position as the epic heroes and dragonslayer of this age and the Baragar lineage became something of independent aristocrats, making money from quests and odd jobs given to them.
As the next head of the family, you're looking forward...
Looking forward, to the warm rays of the sun. Looking forward to the scorching fiery aura of the desert. And perhaps most ambivalently; looking forward to the hours of excruciating torture and training you will spend near the two of them.
Oh, well. The daily routine is not something to complain about.
Speaking of the daily routine. This year, you set a bar for yourself. A goal to see if your training with mom has paid off. What is your goal for this year?
[] Nothing.
[] Kill a bandit camp. (Too easy.)
[] Destroy a nest of goblins. (Easy.)
[] Finally kill a dragon on your own. (Below medium.)
[] Track down an elder vampire and slay it. (Medium.)
[] Find a Greater Dragon, or Wyrm Dragon and destroy it. (Above medium.)
[] Wipe out 90% of the gang activity across a whole country. (Hard.)
[] Walk into Hell, make the demons fear you, and leave. (Impossible... No, literally. I mean it. Don't pick this. It's just a joke, bro.)
[] Write-in.
Speaking of mom, what is your relationship with her?
[] Frigid. You don't like her, because she has high expectations for you. You're a rebellious type.
[] Warm. You've had your good times, you've had your differences, but she is your mother.
[] Write-in.
The Nether. The Void Below. The Gulf Beyond. The Pit. The Abyss. Tartarus. Or, most commonly, Hell.
A vast majority of the realm is a scorched desert of black ash with a gray ashen sky. A transcendent, malignant darkness covers this desert, like an aura that sucks away all hope from it. Every kilometer or so, an empty soul may be going through, hoping to one day find the sweetness of freedom, however, anyone such soul will start losing their sight. Whether in a day, a week, a month, or even a year – hope rots in here. It thrives at first, in the minds of those who enter, then it stagnates; the mind becomes filled with doubts, and then it dies and decays until it is gone. All of their emotions are replaced by cynism and anger.
These souls don't have hope because they are abandoned. They are left alone. They can't find each other because the dark complexities of the realm's magic keep them from going to each other, changing their tracks constantly, despite the fact that it the realm is but a wasteland with not even rocks or plants to adorn the ground and obscure their line of view. Perhaps that is why it is so depressing. Some souls are even aware there must be others, but the fact they can't find each other is the nail in the coffin to any hopes they may have. They search desperately and endlessly, then they give up and begin regretting their life, asking themselves: 'Why am I here?'
...
That is when They arrive. They look for such souls. Red devils swoop down from the sky with their bat-like wings. Two of them, most of the time. They grab the soul by its spectral arms and lift it into the sky, bringing them in a specific direction of the desert – the very center of the realm. The center of hell.
This center looks almost like a quarry, where miners would dig for coal or iron, except it is fully out of black rock and it has many levels. These levels are like steep cliffs, often two or more kilometers in height, with walls of black rock and burnt branches of what can barely be called plant life. This ladder of torment is where the demons bring these souls. They first go through a gate of cold metal, on which a message is written in large, gothic letters. The message says "ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE," perhaps as a commandment to these red demons, that only souls who had given up can be allowed through. The truth is, they are deprived of hope to act for a certain role.
As such, it is a quarry of numerous circles, full of various demons, malignant spirits, and cynical souls of the dead. These souls who are admitted through are like slaves – and at the same time – currency of Hell. That is their role, and without hope, they fulfill it obediently. Their demonic masters do many things with them. Turn them into imps as a form of promotion into a low-rank demon with chances of more promotions, devour them for magical energy, or simply keep them around.
A low-rank demon, such as some kind of minor tempter, soldier, artist, and similar, will often receive a payment of one soul per what is accepted as the typical 'week,' in here, or some other wage of a similar quantity. This economy is very important to keep the demons happy and productive. Although mana is lost much slower in a magical realm like Hell; where it is plentiful, even demons would devolve over months into thoughtless beasts without being fed, and in years, they would become untethered clumps of unthinking energy. The truth is, Hell is a dying realm, with dying leylines, so demons feed on beings from other realms to live.
Regardless, these lesser demons are the peasantry of Hell. Of course, the higher-ups always get it better. Even in Hell, communism somehow wasn't constructed yet.
A Greater Demon will often receive five souls per 'week.' These would be veteran warriors, famous artists, dealers of souls that do some dirty work for mortals or keep on watch for potential summoners and witches in exchange for sacrifices. An exception would be the Knights of Hell; the veterans of veteran elite warriors of Hell, who receive even twenty at the very least, but this is partly because they expend a vast majority of their energy quickly after fighting and need to replenish it, so they are given more of them. A better machine will be harder to maintain. That kind of logic.
Whereas the standard Infernal Noble; also called a Lord will receive up to forty, already making them substantial, but the mechanics of 'receiving souls' and 'having a higher rank' often overlap. It is simply that Hell's leaders value minions that are self-sufficient, capable, and loyal. Therefore, if they see someone who is a skillful obtainer of souls, he is more likely to be promoted to a role of leadership or other influence. It is not too rare to hear of a former Knight of Hell being slain by a standard Greater Demon who happened to get lucky and took his position, in addition to his influx of souls.
Then come the Overlords. They get anywhere from two-hundred to two-hundred and fifty souls per week. Their mealtimes are insane and full of screaming, but they often can't eat up everything they won, so they use the tortured souls as money to order other demons around. Like I said; the mechanics overlap. Those with more money get to hire other demons as underdogs. An Overlord will typically keep at least one Knight of Hell around to be their bodyguard, vassal, and war advisor, if not more. The odd Overlord sometimes has even the income of three-hundred and fifty, or similar numbers. And that's nothing. Overlords, despite being on the stage for influence, are hardly even a part of the bigger picture. A lucky Overlord might rule over several acres or even a segment of one of the circles.
After them are the big players. The Archdemons, who rule the stage. There are often five, maybe six Archdemons per circle. They oftentimes keep several Overlords and numerous Lords on a leash as their vassals, including coteries and teams of elite Knights of Hell and other warrior demons as their fighting forces. These guys are where the influence is at. They can arrange an audience with the Demon Emperor to present their plans, issues, ideas, or complaints to him, although the wait for one is always long. Their income is at least a thousand, and a thousand souls is barely enough for you to be considered a 'poor' Archdemon to be quickly eliminated by the opposition lest you reinforce your power.
That's where the true rulers come in. Ever wanted to live in the elite? The top class of society? The Dukes of Hell is where it's at. The direct vassals of the Demon Emperor, each ruling over one of the ten circles in his name. They obtain tens of thousands of souls weekly, maintaining control over the other demons easily. They hire armies of Knights of Hell and rule over Archdemons with an iron grasp. If they want to speak to the Demon Emperor, they can do so when they want - after all, they are His representatives and loyal subjects.
And then comes the big guy running the show. The Demon Emperor. Mortals call him The Adversary, for he is the greatest and most ancient of demons. He runs the show in this perpetual quarry of human torment and diabolical greed and madness. He runs it in perpetuity to ensure he is never overthrown and everyone is loyal to him. Because he rules over all of the souls, he can consume ten and turn one into a potent soldier, creating armies to destroy any who would oppose him.
He rules hell from his black, metallic tower at the smallest, bottom circle. Weirdly enough, this palace is as tall as the pit of Hell itself, so that the very top, where the throne room is, peeks just outside into the wasteland around the realm. It is the first thing that all tortured souls see when they enter the pit through the gate telling them to abandon hope, for that word on the gate is a commandment of the Demon Emperor himself. To keep them obedient. To maintain perpetuity.
***
And who are you? One of the tortured souls? One of the Archdemons? A Duke of Hell? No. That's all incorrect. You are none other than the Demon Emperor himself. You are him, but only for now...
***
"Sire, they are breaking into the throne room," a voice calls to you, desperately.
You look forward, as a small creature runs up to you from the now-locked doors to your current location. In front of you is your humble imp, who has acted as your retainer for the past ten years. You change them every so often. "Too bad," you answer quite dryly and absently.
"But... my lord..." The imp's reptilian pupils adjust to the sight of your murky face. "They will... they will..."
You sit upon your throne. Made out of black, stygian steel, with several red pillows. At the top of the throne, there are three large fires of magical energy of red color. Behind the throne is a window showing the circles of Hell as well as the eternal wasteland you ruled over. You tap your fingers on the support of your hand, sighing. The other hand supports your bored if angry aspect.
You monologue about the late events. "My empire is in crumbles."
You look out the window. The entirety of the pit is much louder and brighter than it typically is. Demons with torches and pitchforks of red steel walk the streets, killing soldiers loyal to you and overthrowing your banners with their new ones. A revolution against you, orchestrated by a third of the Dukes. Quite ironic, since it was with the help of a third of the angels that you tried to overthrow the Gods in the Heavens.
The only difference is that you failed.
"My people hate me and want me dead. Mortal hunters will destroy me as soon as I set foot upon the surface of the planet. Gods will obliterate my very being if I come to apologize after all these years. My damnedest of damned souls is rejected by the very damned I ruled over – because they are all greedy and want to take my position. There is nowhere to run. I can only accept reality as it is, Bramblefur," you call the servant by his affectionate pet nickname you gave him.
The imp watches you for a second, his lips wavering in sadness, and two tears leaving his red eyes in horror.
He doesn't want to show weakness in front of you, both of you know that, but you forgive him. Your, and his soul, will be destroyed. There is nothing after that. Entropy. Nothingness. Nonexistence. You understand and share your servant's pain and horror, so you don't intend to punish him for it. Besides, it would be meaningless to do so now. Even if you were to lash strength into him, it wouldn't help against the hundreds of thousands of rebel soldiers, knights, lords, and common demons who want your head on a red, burning pike in front of your palace because of propaganda about you 'withholding souls for yourself' or 'being tyrannical and cruel.'
Truth be told, you knew this day would come. One day. Perhaps in a few days after the War In Heaven. Perhaps years. Perhaps hundreds. It appears your subjects needed a thousand to grow malicious enough to no longer be thankful for you providing an energy source for them...
You snap. These thankless children. They are all fools. Utter, arrogant, despicable morons. They have no such word as gratitude in their dictionaries. Without you, they'd be in a similar situation as the very souls they devour every day to exist. You only did what had to be done. You preserved your people. You kept your promises. You did all in your power to overthrow Heaven, but you failed. Can you be blamed for that? Perhaps. But this... this takes it too far.
"You... ungrateful..." words leave your mouth, as you grasp your face in terror, your arms shivering. A pair of cursed tears stream down your cheeks. You used to be an angel once. A creature of light. A creature of love and purity. Something that represented beauty and virtue.
Now, you're called the adversary by mortals. Angels hate you. And now, your subjects, too, hate you. You are hated and despised by at least ninety percent of the universe, with at least ninety percent of that ninety percent being entities that would gladly destroy you if they had the opportunity, and the other ten percent being those who would go out of their way to do so. Your countless flaws are the only things they can see now.
You raise your head and look at your imp as soon as the banging to the throne room door starts. "I want vengeance for this." You grit your teeth angrily.
"Vengeance, sire?" the imp asks, referring to something you told him long ago.
His question causes the anger stirred up in you to stop. Your face becomes calm suddenly.
"No... not vengeance," you correct yourself. "Vengeance is an emotional response. No, not vengeance... Punishment."
The imp nods. "Sire, but, you yourself said, there is no way out of this situation."
"There may not be a way for me to achieve correction, Bramblefur. But there may be a way. You were loyal to me, so I promote you."
You flick your wrist. Suddenly, the small, emancipated creature that your imp used to be, grows tall. He becomes humanoid, at least eight feet in height, covered from head to toe in a red-black carapace similar to that of an insectoid.
"My plan is simple, so listen to me..."
...
That night, the Demon Emperor was killed. But his servants. All those who were loyal to him suddenly disappeared from Hell. With a flash, as if they were teleported away to parts unknown. No magic was able to track their existence, as if they disappeared from the world itself, removed firmly from the anchors of reality. All save for his loyal servant, who said all he knew, and then swore oaths to the Dukes of Hell and continued to serve the next Demon Emperor.
***
Several years later...
Several years later...
You are...
[] First Name. (Write-in.)
And you're a...
[] Boy.
[] Girl.
You are the great, great, great [and so on, and so on...] grandchild of one the greatest heroes of these times, known as Baragar, who you get your surname after.
Typically, a word has two components: sound and meaning. The sound it makes when spoken and the meaning it has in context to a particular language.
But your surname has a third component to it, more esoteric than the first both. Namely: weight. Your soul has to carry the Baragar surname and it is not an easy weight to carry. The bar is set high for you. With each family member, the bar of achievements you need to make to become even slightly famous and recognized as an individual hero becomes higher. Slaying a dragon is nothing for you. You need to aim higher than that because your mother's dragon-slaying record is already in the dozens. In fact, many standing in your place would be cynical. Most of the achievements you make, no matter how grandiose, you will not be credited for, simply because you are already expected to make them. You will not be judged as an individual, but as a Baragar.
The fame of your family is insane.
They write about Baragar and your bloodline in school textbooks, scholars study your ancestors' deeds and keep track of them, and families of peasants tell the deeds of your elders to their children.
Whenever you introduced yourself, even in a mundane situation such as when shopping for groceries, you would always be asked: "Wait, you mean that Baragar?" when you say your surname, with huge disbelief from everyone.
People would swarm any village you and your mother traveled through just to stare with awe. Most of them didn't even have either the bravery or self-control to walk up and, say, do something like ask for an autograph.
Every social situation is, for you, an inescapable prison of discussing your (in comparison to your elders,) lackluster stories and deeds. When you mention you helped kill a dragon, the typical response is a sigh of boredom, with the conversant mentioning that dragon-slaying gets old really quickly, especially if you didn't do it yourself.
Ever since your great, great [and so on...] grandfather's death, your ancestors took over his position as the epic heroes and dragonslayer of this age and the Baragar lineage became something of independent aristocrats, making money from quests and odd jobs given to them.
As the next head of the family, you're looking forward...
Looking forward, to the warm rays of the sun. Looking forward to the scorching fiery aura of the desert. And perhaps most ambivalently; looking forward to the hours of excruciating torture and training you will spend near the two of them.
Oh, well. The daily routine is not something to complain about.
Speaking of the daily routine. This year, you set a bar for yourself. A goal to see if your training with mom has paid off. What is your goal for this year?
[] Nothing.
[] Kill a bandit camp. (Too easy.)
[] Destroy a nest of goblins. (Easy.)
[] Finally kill a dragon on your own. (Below medium.)
[] Track down an elder vampire and slay it. (Medium.)
[] Find a Greater Dragon, or Wyrm Dragon and destroy it. (Above medium.)
[] Wipe out 90% of the gang activity across a whole country. (Hard.)
[] Walk into Hell, make the demons fear you, and leave. (Impossible... No, literally. I mean it. Don't pick this. It's just a joke, bro.)
[] Write-in.
Speaking of mom, what is your relationship with her?
[] Frigid. You don't like her, because she has high expectations for you. You're a rebellious type.
[] Warm. You've had your good times, you've had your differences, but she is your mother.
[] Write-in.
Hi-ya. It is me, Birdsie, coming you with another (bomb-ass) original Quest. I have a (hopefully) decent story planned for this, and I hope (unlike the souls in the pits of Hell,) that it won't die out in a few pages. I will try to update everyday, but I might not be able to do so. I will keep up the minimum of one update for every few days, so keep tagging me if I'm slacking off.
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Character Sheet
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Name: Artoria Baragar
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Strength: 55 (105)
Stamina: 54
Agility: 56
Intelligence: 30
Perception: 36
Willpower: 39
Fellowship: 30
Mana: 200
Regen: 25/day + Leyline/Node bonus.
Items:
Skills & Traits:
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Strength: 55 (105)
Stamina: 54
Agility: 56
Intelligence: 30
Perception: 36
Willpower: 39
Fellowship: 30
Mana: 200
Regen: 25/day + Leyline/Node bonus.
Items:
- Excalibur: A family heirloom. An excellently crafted and balanced sword that manages to fit in just a bit of ornament. It is akin to a shamanistic fetish, possessed by a spirit that gives it special properties. In this case, the spirit is angelic and the properties given to it are holy. The sword, wielded by Baragar, is attuned to your blood. It can cut through spirits, fire holy energy at high velocities, and shine with bright light.
- Gauntlets of Ogre Strength: A pair of enchanted, metallic gauntlets. They give you amazing strength when worn. They could turn a weak, soft child into a borderline superhuman fighter.
- Clothing: Many outfits to choose from. Some are practical, others elegant, and some are just differently colored sets of pajamas.
- Scrying Compass: A magical tool. When you name something, the compass will point towards it. It can be anything as specific as a person or location, to anything as broad as the nearest place fit for a hideout, or the nearest town or inn. When you put it next to a map, it will highlight your target with a blue dot. Saying 'show me' prior to a command will result in the compass actually creating a visual projection of the target. It won't work with vague commands or against things that have scrying protection.
- Maps: Of the region, of Albion, and the known world.
- Potions
- x2 - Basic Healing Potion
- x2 - Basic Stamina Potion
- x2 - Smoke Bomb (Primitive)
- Stone Golem: A humanoid servant. 230 centimeters (7 feet, 6 inches) but it can shrink to be as small as 185 centimeters (6 feet.) It has the following parameters: STR: 65, STA: 100, AGI: 20, INT: 12, PER: 20, WPW: 90, FLS: 5. It can translate languages, read and write, and follows the user unless specified otherwise. It will also protect itself unless specified otherwise. It is currently under repair by Cervitou.
- Onryxite, 25kg: Twenty-five kilograms of the rare onryxite material. Good magical conductor. Excellent for enchantments but will require some to protect from magic.
- Jaded: For a child, you've seen your share of bloodshed and bizarre occurrences. An encounter with a bear or demon doesn't faze you that much.
- Great - Combat: You have astounding melee combat skills. Positioning your legs and getting into a stance is natural to you. Common monsters and beasts are as rabbits to you.
- Fine - Strategy & Tactics: You can form a manageable battle plan, whether in a melee duel, or large battle, after taking into consideration advantages you can gain from the environment. You don't make rookie mistakes, but you can still be outplayed by better tacticians and strategists.
- Intermediate - Riding: You're not bad. You can saddle up and get onto a horse in several seconds. You can fare well in mounted combat.
- Magical Theory - Intermediate: You have a decent grasp of the operations of the universe. You are aware of the three laws of magic, of how mana works and operates, of how souls operate, and what the three metaphysical bodies are.
- Intermediate Thaumaturgy: You know basic and mercenary spells. You can create small prestidigitation effects and situational elemental effects. You can cast a variety of cosmetic magics, and you're also, to some extent, capable of telekinesis.
- Enhancement - Medium: Allows you to make objects perform their intended function much better at an equivalent cost in mana. Can be used on plants, but using it on animals and other living creatures is costly. Specific limbs and organs can be enhanced. These enhancements last for an hour but may be dragged for another hour for 1 Mana for each hour.
- Physical Enhancement: You can increase your physical stats up to 25 points, at the cost of 1 Mana per 2 points. This lasts for an hour, but the effects may be dragged for longer for the price of 1 Mana per hour.
- Anti-Magic - Intermediate: Allows you to dispel various magical effects. The more complex and the more mana was put into them, the more difficult they are to remove and the longer it will take. Your knowledge is manageable, so much so that you can take down weak offensive spells before they hit or cast a protective aura around yourself or others.
- Ice Magic - Medium: You can throw concentrated bolts of ice, fire rays of pure cold, walk on water by freezing it below you, or evoke weak ice elementals to help you out and more.
- Fire Magic - Basic: You can spray small amounts of fire, create surges, or weak fireballs.
- Nature Magic - Intermediate: You can tap into nature, speaking with plants or animals and fluently exchanging information without language barriers. You can call woodland creatures to your aid and detect life in wide ranges. You can find your way around any forest, grow trees instantly, or summon treants and forest spirits to your aid.
- Spirit Magic - Basic: You can tap into spiritual worlds, seeing spirits, seeing mana currents and static mana; including souls, as well as, with some focus; auras. You can also speak with the dead, see the last moments of a corpse's life, or make it easier or harder for ghosts to use their abilities.
- Enhancement - Medium: Allows you to make objects perform their intended function much better at an equivalent cost in mana. Can be used on plants, but using it on animals and other living creatures is costly. Specific limbs and organs can be enhanced. These enhancements last for an hour but may be dragged for another hour for 1 Mana for each hour.
- Basic Alchemy: Painkillers, anesthetics, soporifics, poisons, and glues are examples of what you can make, but their strength is mundane. You can also make a very confined amount of low-level special stuff, like a potion that instantly heals fatigue or a smoke bomb.
- Magical Beast Lore - Basic: You know some tidbits about the common and famous beasts, like wyverns, drakes, dragons, griffins, and werewolves, as well as other creatures of magical nature.
- The Arts - Basic: You know how to scribble some basic, if barely accurate, self-portrait. You can sing, but it is hardly worthy of an opera, and you can dance about as well as anyone.
- Logistics & Management - Basic: You can run a mansion and maintain your finances properly.
- Reading & Writing: You know how to.
- Etiquette: You know how to behave like a proper lady of the house when you have to.
- Gluttony: +1 Health from eating stuff. You don't get food poisoned as easily.
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Information Hub
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Artoria Baragar: That's you. The daughter of Leona and Roderick Baragar. Not very famous, but people heard about you.
Leona Baragar: Your mother. A great heroine, famous for her dragon-slaying, her fierce skills with a sword, and a sharp tongue. A natural leader too. You get along very well.
Roderick Baragar: Originally Roderick Kanneur, your mother convinced him to change the surname after the marriage, but it took some time. He is a great hero in his own sense, famous for slaying a Wyrm Dragon and beating a marching orc army on his own.
Roland Baragar: Your younger brother. Quite the sneaker and tinkerer. He's somewhat manipulative when he tries to, but he's harmless. He can pick locks and has the aptitude to become one, mean ranger one day.
Baragar: Your ancestor. Many told and untold stories about his deeds circulate to this day. Children are told stories of him by their moms when being lulled to sleep. He's a legend and some debate if he is even real, or if historical documents regarding him are accurate.
Cervitou: An ex-black mage that shows up every month to speak to your mother about the curse that plagues you. He sacrificed his soul to protect you.
Ria: A growing drake and household pet. Currently the BFF of Roland.
Oshha Tavish: An acquaintance you made. He's looking for a teacher in magecraft and seems to be capable in Enhancement, Conjuration, and Analysis.
Marinus: A bully in Megafni. Tavish's rival.
Beronica: A friendly witch living to the far north-east of Mora. She is friends with Cervitou.
Galiel: A Duke of Hell. Particularly interested with the human concept of chivalry. He sees Hell as unsightly.
Senor Fred: Once a great hero and a favorite of the Elder God, who ventured together with Baragar and many other heroes. Now, a goofy revenant with gnarly sword skills.
The Drifter: A mysterious figure, once known as Dilate Baragar. He sacrificed himself in the fight with Elucifer and was 'corrupted.'
Elucifer: A megalomaniacal conqueror, who became a living god and tried to conquer the world.
Lilith: A Goddess of Darkness and Entropy itself, representing the world's slow decay. She is the uncreator.
Pandora: A paladin serving an unknown God. She was once possessed by an angel and was never the same, though Senor Fred mentions she was a comrade of his and Baragar's.
Leona "Baragar": Baragar's wife. Her name was passed down in the family, until it was finally given to your mother.
"Little Baragar": Baragar's pet lizard, apparently.
General Marius Sinclair: An Albionian noble. A great warrior with many awards of courage and honor.
Aegis Caliburn: "The King's Fist." An excellent warrior, serving the king directly.
His Royal Majesty, Advan Albion: The king of Albion.
Alonso Albion: The prince.
Jeanna Albion: The king's consort; queen.
Vivian Albion: The king's daughter, second in line for the throne.
Frederic Albion: The king's second son, third in line.
Elucifer: A revived king of times past, who tried to conquer the world. He works for the Demon King now.
Woguran: A bizarre bandit leader.
Akai Hiei: An oni girl from the Middle Kingdom, now serving the Demon King.
The Demon King: ???
Leona Baragar: Your mother. A great heroine, famous for her dragon-slaying, her fierce skills with a sword, and a sharp tongue. A natural leader too. You get along very well.
Roderick Baragar: Originally Roderick Kanneur, your mother convinced him to change the surname after the marriage, but it took some time. He is a great hero in his own sense, famous for slaying a Wyrm Dragon and beating a marching orc army on his own.
Roland Baragar: Your younger brother. Quite the sneaker and tinkerer. He's somewhat manipulative when he tries to, but he's harmless. He can pick locks and has the aptitude to become one, mean ranger one day.
Baragar: Your ancestor. Many told and untold stories about his deeds circulate to this day. Children are told stories of him by their moms when being lulled to sleep. He's a legend and some debate if he is even real, or if historical documents regarding him are accurate.
Cervitou: An ex-black mage that shows up every month to speak to your mother about the curse that plagues you. He sacrificed his soul to protect you.
Ria: A growing drake and household pet. Currently the BFF of Roland.
Oshha Tavish: An acquaintance you made. He's looking for a teacher in magecraft and seems to be capable in Enhancement, Conjuration, and Analysis.
Marinus: A bully in Megafni. Tavish's rival.
Beronica: A friendly witch living to the far north-east of Mora. She is friends with Cervitou.
Galiel: A Duke of Hell. Particularly interested with the human concept of chivalry. He sees Hell as unsightly.
Senor Fred: Once a great hero and a favorite of the Elder God, who ventured together with Baragar and many other heroes. Now, a goofy revenant with gnarly sword skills.
The Drifter: A mysterious figure, once known as Dilate Baragar. He sacrificed himself in the fight with Elucifer and was 'corrupted.'
Elucifer: A megalomaniacal conqueror, who became a living god and tried to conquer the world.
Lilith: A Goddess of Darkness and Entropy itself, representing the world's slow decay. She is the uncreator.
Pandora: A paladin serving an unknown God. She was once possessed by an angel and was never the same, though Senor Fred mentions she was a comrade of his and Baragar's.
Leona "Baragar": Baragar's wife. Her name was passed down in the family, until it was finally given to your mother.
"Little Baragar": Baragar's pet lizard, apparently.
General Marius Sinclair: An Albionian noble. A great warrior with many awards of courage and honor.
Aegis Caliburn: "The King's Fist." An excellent warrior, serving the king directly.
His Royal Majesty, Advan Albion: The king of Albion.
Alonso Albion: The prince.
Jeanna Albion: The king's consort; queen.
Vivian Albion: The king's daughter, second in line for the throne.
Frederic Albion: The king's second son, third in line.
Elucifer: A revived king of times past, who tried to conquer the world. He works for the Demon King now.
Woguran: A bizarre bandit leader.
Akai Hiei: An oni girl from the Middle Kingdom, now serving the Demon King.
The Demon King: ???
Baragar Mansion: Your current residence. A three-story building, with numerous parlors, halls, chambers, bathrooms, foyers, and a ballroom, as well as a yard.
Megafni: A village south of the Baragar Mansion. Several hours on horse to get from one to the other.
Mora: A big town, further south-east of Megafni. It takes half a day on horse to get there. It has a rich history and grand, sprawling libraries, in addition to a decently large community of mages and dwarves.
Cervitou's Castle: A big, empty fortress with eight-meter tall walls and a deep moat full of magical leeches. It is fairly empty, save for a dwarf servant and a bunch of spirits that prefer to stay alone most of the time. The castle is sentient.
Beronica's Hut: A small hut belonging to Beronica, the witch. It's in a forest, to the far north-east of Mora.
Lanerfield: The capital city of Albion. Sixteen days of travel north from your mansion.
Baragar's End: A memorial necropolis built by Baragar for his family and friends, kilometers north of Lanerfield.
Megafni: A village south of the Baragar Mansion. Several hours on horse to get from one to the other.
Mora: A big town, further south-east of Megafni. It takes half a day on horse to get there. It has a rich history and grand, sprawling libraries, in addition to a decently large community of mages and dwarves.
Cervitou's Castle: A big, empty fortress with eight-meter tall walls and a deep moat full of magical leeches. It is fairly empty, save for a dwarf servant and a bunch of spirits that prefer to stay alone most of the time. The castle is sentient.
Beronica's Hut: A small hut belonging to Beronica, the witch. It's in a forest, to the far north-east of Mora.
Lanerfield: The capital city of Albion. Sixteen days of travel north from your mansion.
Baragar's End: A memorial necropolis built by Baragar for his family and friends, kilometers north of Lanerfield.
Mechanics are straightforward.
I'll roll when the time calls for it. Most likely during combat situations, but not always. I will generally keep rolls concealed, but I will reveal any ridiculous or interesting outcomes, or when you ask me to.
I will roll when I don't know what should happen. When it is narratively and realistically appropriate that Artoria wins the fight, she will win the fight. When I consider: "Hm, I don't know how this'd play out," I will play a mini-solo D&D combat match to see for myself, making the appropriate rolls and such.
The rules are very flexible depending on what is needed at the time.
When not rolling the dice, I will regardless keep the MC's traits, skills, values, and weaknesses and realistically apply them to the scenario.
I'll roll when the time calls for it. Most likely during combat situations, but not always. I will generally keep rolls concealed, but I will reveal any ridiculous or interesting outcomes, or when you ask me to.
I will roll when I don't know what should happen. When it is narratively and realistically appropriate that Artoria wins the fight, she will win the fight. When I consider: "Hm, I don't know how this'd play out," I will play a mini-solo D&D combat match to see for myself, making the appropriate rolls and such.
The rules are very flexible depending on what is needed at the time.
When not rolling the dice, I will regardless keep the MC's traits, skills, values, and weaknesses and realistically apply them to the scenario.
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List of Undertakings
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
List of Quests:
Yellow - pending.
Red - failed.
Green - succeeded.
First Blood: Completely on your own, track down either a Greater Dragon or Wyrm Dragon and slay the beast.
Quest Rewards: Respect.
Slaying the Fiend: Cleanse the ancient gateway of demonic taint and free the elder paladin.
Quest Rewards: Renown among Paladins, Respect among Paladins, Renown among Demons.
Destroy the Otyugh: Kill the Otyugh who took Sarah near the village of Onryx.
Quest Rewards: Onryxite, money.
Yellow - pending.
Red - failed.
Green - succeeded.
First Blood: Completely on your own, track down either a Greater Dragon or Wyrm Dragon and slay the beast.
Quest Rewards: Respect.
Slaying the Fiend: Cleanse the ancient gateway of demonic taint and free the elder paladin.
Quest Rewards: Renown among Paladins, Respect among Paladins, Renown among Demons.
Destroy the Otyugh: Kill the Otyugh who took Sarah near the village of Onryx.
Quest Rewards: Onryxite, money.
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Omake Policy
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - The Wanna-be Hero of Justice
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Enhancement Self-Experimentation (leads to Chapter 1: Early Life - Part 5: Happy Birthday! - Intermission)
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Round Two
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - The Visit
Pending Omake:
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Tavern Brawl
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - The Paladin
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Tea Party
- I am glad to accept anything original you have to throw at me. Feel free to be creative.
- There are three prerequisites to make an omake Canon:
- It has to stay true to the story and characters.
- It needs the support of at least two players other than the one who wrote it, but the QM may request for more (or less.)
- The QM has to approve it.
- If an omake becomes Canon, the one who wrote it is privy to a number of rewards. Feel fre to ask for anything and I'll let you know if it's acceptable.
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - The Wanna-be Hero of Justice
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Enhancement Self-Experimentation (leads to Chapter 1: Early Life - Part 5: Happy Birthday! - Intermission)
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Round Two
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - The Visit
Pending Omake:
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Tavern Brawl
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - The Paladin
A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor - Tea Party
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[X] Remy
... [] Walk into Hell, make the demons fear you, and leave. (Impossible... No, literally. I mean it. Don't pick this. It's just a joke, bro.)
[X] Wipe out 90% of the gang activity across a whole country. (Hard.)
[X] Warm. You've had your good times, you've had your differences, but she is your mother.
... [] Walk into Hell, make the demons fear you, and leave. (Impossible... No, literally. I mean it. Don't pick this. It's just a joke, bro.)
[X] Wipe out 90% of the gang activity across a whole country. (Hard.)
[X] Warm. You've had your good times, you've had your differences, but she is your mother.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Boy, oh, boy. Here we go from a 'Hero's Quest' to a 'Saber Quest.'
You know what, if this gets picked, I'll actually grant the character a sword called Excalibur that shoots golden laserbeams just because they are an Expy and I like being complete in that way.
Cybandeath
Lord Darkness, and Representative of Mad Science
- Location
- The United States of America
[X]Bohemand
Bohemond I of Antioch - Wikipedia
[X] Boy.
[X] Wipe out 90% of the gang activity across a whole country. (Hard.)
[X] Love-Hate, she has trained you with ruthless and emotionless efficiency, you love and hate her, you can't stand her and yet don't know what you will do without her.
WE SHALL CRUSADE AGAINST CRIME! CRUSHING OUR ENEMIES BENEATH US! DEUS VULT! LET ALL KNOW OF OUR CRUSADE!
Bohemond I of Antioch - Wikipedia
[X] Boy.
[X] Wipe out 90% of the gang activity across a whole country. (Hard.)
[X] Love-Hate, she has trained you with ruthless and emotionless efficiency, you love and hate her, you can't stand her and yet don't know what you will do without her.
WE SHALL CRUSADE AGAINST CRIME! CRUSHING OUR ENEMIES BENEATH US! DEUS VULT! LET ALL KNOW OF OUR CRUSADE!
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- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Eh? I like Saber and all, but I wasn't really thinking about her. I picked the bottom two choice first and picked gender by flipping a coin and then picked Artoria by rolling a D3 to pick between Artoria, Ambrosia and Alexia.
But sure, free power boost due to narrative is always nice.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
The destiny rating is strong with this one.
DON'T SCARY
Hope is the road to disappointment....
[X] First Name:Ramsay
[X] Boy
[X] Get a dragon egg and raise it. Oh and join/""reformed"" a gang of bandits.
[X] scorn and defiance: You positivly hate your bitch of a mother and the shitty Baragar family. You dream many a night of you being yourself and not a Baragar. While at the same time,pissing and dancing on the grave of your family's name
[X] Boy
[X] Get a dragon egg and raise it. Oh and join/""reformed"" a gang of bandits.
[X] scorn and defiance: You positivly hate your bitch of a mother and the shitty Baragar family. You dream many a night of you being yourself and not a Baragar. While at the same time,pissing and dancing on the grave of your family's name
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Also, I hope y'all realize that wiping out 90% gang activity in a country isn't just something you can casually accomplish. Going from city to city and finding dirt on organized crime before putting the cuffs on every gang leader and their mother is going to take a while. Especially since gangs tend to be large.
You'll need either magic, or to set up an organization of your own - the former being difficult at best, and the latter being impossible for a child of your age.
You'll need either magic, or to set up an organization of your own - the former being difficult at best, and the latter being impossible for a child of your age.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
[X]Artoria
[X]Girl
[X] Find a Greater Dragon, or Wyrm Dragon and destroy it. (Above medium.)
Changed my vote. Well just realized we are just a kid and taking down criminal organization might be a little too difficult , let's go for a mindless beast instead
[X]Warm. You've had your good times, you've had your differences, but she is your mother.
Let's play as Saber seems cool and i was too lazy but this quest made me create this account just 5 min ago hope this one will be good.
[X]Girl
[X] Find a Greater Dragon, or Wyrm Dragon and destroy it. (Above medium.)
Changed my vote. Well just realized we are just a kid and taking down criminal organization might be a little too difficult , let's go for a mindless beast instead
[X]Warm. You've had your good times, you've had your differences, but she is your mother.
Let's play as Saber seems cool and i was too lazy but this quest made me create this account just 5 min ago hope this one will be good.
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Well, it did say it was the 'hard' option. We'll just have to settle for casting Fist at first.
Then when we get the magic, we will actually cast Fist.
Then when we get the magic, we will actually cast Fist.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
If you guys end up picking the Hard option then your decisions will need to be 95% clever and sophisticated write-in options with a very solid action plan to actually do it. Otherwise, you will fail. If you do win though, it'll be hellish spectacular to the point where it will make you stand out from even your ancestors, because a little kid doing that at their age is... unlikely.
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Or just take time and patience. We can work on one city and then spread out over the years.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
The charisma of a kid won't help thought perhars when we are older. i think we are in the overpowered side so strenght will not be a problem but the cloak and dagger stuff and politics/corruption is not easy when they can get you thrown in jail or hunted down by the entire country because we tried chewing more than we can handle. Let's get a reputation of killing dragons instead wich will back up our influence and public image.
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
This is a goal for this year.
You think that the fact that (Hard) is written there is just "because?"
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I missed the goal of the year part.
Changing my vote.
By the way, now that Terran Imperium and I have the same plan apart from a single letter, do they count towards being the same vote?
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
Didn't thought about that , i actually didn't even notice it ! its just the way i pronounce it... but i will change it if necessary to count as the same vote
EDIT : Changed to Artoria
EDIT : Changed to Artoria
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DON'T SCARY
Hope is the road to disappointment....
Oh joy, yet another character based on a Nasu character.-.-
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Some dragons are feral in this setting––true, but calling a Greater Dragon or Wyrm Dragon a "mindless beast," is... being grossly mistaken. These two types are among the most sophisticated of them.
A Greater Dragon typically falls between 600-1000 years of age. Ever seen Smaug? Something of roughly that size and power. And then comes the Wyrm Dragon, all of whom are 1000+ and typically the power level of a Lesser God. There's few Wyrm Dragons active per continent, so little in fact that the number rarely rises above five.
Dragons in this setting are rare and dying out, for two leading reasons.
First, their scales and bones, especially those of older dragons, make for some mean armor and weapons, in addition to said dragon-items being excellent conductors for magic, allowing for some nastily powerful enchantments.
Second, most dragons tend to be mischevious and have a malicious disposition to civilization, such as demanding sacrifices in the form of livestock from villages in valleys, stealing treasure from merchant ships to add to their collection, or just killing people because said dragon thought the mortal was an affront to nature for so little as letting gas. That said, not all dragons are like that - some are wise and benevolent, while others are feral like wild animals that need to be hunted down.
DON'T SCARY
Hope is the road to disappointment....
Would you consider changing your vote to mine.
Because having own dragon and ""reforming"" some bandit gang would most definitely set us apart in a interesting way to said the least.
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