AWKWARD ZOMBIE

Ages ago, the land was ravaged by the wars of many godlike beings called the Eternal. These beings had complete control over time, space, and the elements and were very capable of massive destruction. However, through the sheer force of Temporos, the god of Time, they were locked up in a state away from time itself. The world was still scarred, and once the sentient races started appearing there was nothing to be done. Nobody knows the origins of these races, just that they are very crafty and adaptive. Soon their civilizations grew to large proportions, and Temporos took to observing their progress. However, as his focus was not on keeping the Eternal at bay, some of their power started leaking out of the time warp and was influencing many of the races, imbuing them with strange powers and gifts. These special beings are called Eterni in recognition of their powers, but many of the races have given them different names.

Eterni hold the power of potential; their full powers are not realized until they realize it themselves. However, once they realize their true potential, they can ascend to become a full Eternal with complete control over their given power. Eternal aren't inherently evil, but the lure of such power is easily corrupting and as such many Eternal have given themselves over to more unholy designations; these are called Umbra Eterna, but many simplify it to Shadow. It is the Umbra Eterna who threaten the land now, and the Eterni and Eternal alone cannot stop them. Heroes of the races must also stand up against this menace, but it will not go down easily.

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Alright guys, here it is. The AZ Roleplay. Let me lay down some ground rules for characters real quick:

[1] No overpowered characters; They can be powerful without being overpowered. Use common sense.

• Exceptions can apply, but you'll have to discuss it with me first.
[2] That's really it. I don't care if your character is a half-wolf tentacle monster, but don't expect anyone to interact with you positively in-character (or out-of-character) if you do.

• That said, be reasonable about it. How do you expect to contribute to the roleplay if your character can't interact meaningfully with anyone?
[3] Don't make a character unless you intend for it to be serious. You can seriously play a joke character (Like Boxcar Joe the Magic Hobo) , but don't make characters for the sake of sabotaging the RP. This includes blatantly idiotic characters like what you would see in the "Dumb dA screencaps" thread.
[4] If you're making an Eterni character, then their powers go under either the "Personality" or "Background" sections, but you can also mention them in the "Weapons" section if it's a combat-oriented ability or could be used as such.

PM me this basic profile and I'll make a Google Doc of each profile for quick reference:



Also, try to keep completely Out of Character posts to a minimum. You're allowed an OOC space under your main post for comments and such you have, but stay away from entirely OOC posts.

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Land of Cavarel

• Continents
  
  • Trejin (With Labels)

Concerning Time Period and Location
There is no set in stone time period for the land; having a distracted god of Time tends to do that. That said, Rawling is the urban, "modern time" city; Mekanos is the mechanical, "steampunk" city; Raesor is the medieval, "dark ages" city; and Kaiom is the somewhat primitive, "native" city. As well, the Dead Lands could be viewed as a "post apocalypse" landscape due to the ruined cities and settlements and everything being covered in ash. There are several other continents to explore as well, so there may be more time periods yet.

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Characters

• Sol Reaper - Zephiur van Errenheit
• Vealin99 - Martin Hepsom
• Exeres - Roger Barrett
• Sleauxbreaux - Roil
• Ragzz - Genjie Kovas
• BeatBoxingBoo - Wriar Bilkes
• Need Runes4 - Allen Tanner
• Potato - Garrett Harper
• Mr. Mander - Maloch
• Madican - Eris
• Lambeth - Hel
• Cori - Galiena Do'avigne
• Koeqepp - Lemme Tau
• Game Angel - Jade
• Saximaphone - Captain Archibald Forté
• Otherwise - Pellendro de Lyonald
• Clyve - Clovis
• General - Hershal
• Tales - Josh Farraview

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If you have a Google account, you can request access to your specific character so you can make changes when/if needed.

"Another day.." Zephiur thought as he sat on the edge of his bed, drowsy with the morning grog. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, as his left was obviously made of metal. He cracked his neck both ways and got up, slipping into his clothes and latching down his mechanical hand with a satisfying click. He placed his goggles on the top of his head for now, and took a step outside for his morning walk before getting to work. The air was slightly foggy but at least it was cool; warm and humid climates didn't mesh well with his mechanical parts. He spun his metal hand around in its socket to make sure everything was working right, and then started down the loosely-packed cobblestone path, structures upon structures lining the road, almost as if they were squeezed together. However, Zephiur knew that they looked like that because of the interconnecting mechanisms that united the city: an intricate and advanced mail and delivery system. He waved at some passing residents and continued on his way, entering Mekanos proper.

The city itself was much more loosely constructed than the seemingly tight-packed residential area; there were stands and stalls in nearly every street corner, in front of much larger corporations and business constructs. The most historical and controversial of these is the Mekanos Mining Association, known for its corrupt and uncaring leadership but also for its quality product; the gems and raw material that comes from the MMA are the toughest and most resilient, and also produce the finest quality metals of any mining company. As a professional worker, Zephiur is honor-bound to buy his material from the MMA, but if any other company produced matching quality metals he would definitely get it elsewhere. The corrupt practices the MMA is known for don't sit well with his morals, but he has to use the highest quality material or else he'll lose business. Such is life.

Despite the historical significance of the MMA building, there is only one construction that is more recognizable: the Grand Clockwork, Mekanos' masterpiece of mechanical engineering. It appears as a large obelisk at the exact center of the city with the month's calendar displayed as a large clockwork-driven set of gears and numbers, with a floating sphere above it displaying the time as a traditional clock would. Every master engineer in Mekanos has contributed to the Grand Clockwork at some point in their careers, and Zephiur was no exception. His father, Viktor, was the one who created the suspension system that kept the clock sphere in place, and Zephiur enhanced the clock face by designing a clockworks system that would run the four faces of the clock at the same time, each one displaying the correct time of day. Zephiur stood there for a bit, admiring the spectacle; he made a point of trying to find any new pieces added to the mechanical masterpiece.

[~Pool ain't closed anymore, hop on in!]

"TANNER, get going! Crime takes no breaks and neither do we!" The Major was infuriated, then again,m he always was. Allen got up from his seat outside the cafe, taking a long look at the Great Clockwork, though his father was a master watch maker, it was left to Allen to help set the pieces of the initial clock pieces.
"I did not stutter Tanner!" something really got to the Major today, "Go and get our payment from the MMA building, and watch yourself"
"Aye Aye, sir shouold I keep my uniform on, I've hear-"
"Do you have no pride, soldier! You will keep your uniform on and I will hear no more of this, understood?"
"Understod, sir"

[Also, Sol, Lemme Lau doesn't have a username]

"NYEH! We meet again, Captain! I will assure you that it will be our final encounter!"

On a dusty planet suspiciously resembling the Nevada Desert, a dastardly wind blew about, as if by an industrial fan. On top of an escarpment, a tall figure dressed in shimmering purple spandex and matching fishbowl helmet laughed diabolically as he grasped the wrist of a helpless damsel.

"Release her, Eloh Mrow! It's me that you want!" shouted a bold voice from below. A heroic figure stood among the blowing dust, clad in a surprisingly clean-pressed uniform. He peered up at the villain through his tinted visor and continued, "You have no need for her!"

"Indeed, I don't!" exclaimed Eloh Mrow as he activated a device upon his wrist. Laughing manically, he tossed the girl into a blatantly rotoscoped black hole. "NYEH!" he laughed, "I would stroke my devilishly curly Van Dyke if I wasn't afraid of suffocating due this planet's lack of atmosphere! In retrospect, it was not the ideal choice for a dramatic encounter with my rival!"

"Where did you send her?" commanded the heroic figure.

"WHERE?! Dear sir, it is not just where! It is also a matter of WHEN! NYEH!" the fiend struck a dramatic pose before continuing, "You're fate will soon be the same as the dame! NYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHH!"

"It seems that you are forgetting one thing, Eloh Mrow," the hero responded, coolly.

"And what is that, exactly?" the confused B movie reject asked.

"I'm CAPTAIN FORTÉ!"

Eris woke up normally. That was always a nice thing. He'd never been allowed to do it when mother had been alive. Always with the torture, and the assassins, and nightmare poisons. It hadn't been unusual for him to wake up with corpses in the room.

There was a corpse in the room. Eris got out of the inn bed, revealing countless scars and burns marks on his mutilated flesh, including an elaborately ornate D carved into his entire backside, and walked over to it. Agape was driven to the hilt into the unfortunate's chest, piercing the heart. Blood was minimal with such a tight seal on the wound, but the assassin had expired some hours ago. He still had a dagger in his hand with a single pinprick of blood from Eris. Whoever had sent him obviously didn't know, or hadn't warned him, that Eris was not defenseless while sleeping. After a lifetime of being woken rudely by harm, his defensive instincts kicked in naturally so he didn't lose any rest. It was like sleepwalking, but with combat. A simple Slam to their emotions and their defense dropped, leaving scenes like this for him to discover after waking up.

Eris turned away and opened his luggage, pulling out clothes to get dressed. Ordinarily he would have taken his garb from a magnificent wardrobe in a room the size of this entire inn. But there were certain sacrifices when one slaughters the servants and binds his family members so the flames consume the entire estate and the majority of the Delacroix with it. Now Eris was free to experience the common life once more, without the threat of being captured by his mother. He'd made certain to check the bodies after the flames had died down. All of them had burned to a crisp.

Eris walked back to the corpse and drew Agape out, allowing the body to collapse to the floor. With the blood coagulated it would be less of a mess to clean up, which would make the innkeeper pop flyin'. Which meant a remarkably skilled spymaster would be pop flyin' as well. He'd long served the Delacroix family's strongest member, and was unburdened by petty things like morals. As Eris had eliminated every other member of the household, the spymaster worked for him now. Not to say it was a risk-free service of course. He still held to the virtue of strength. In fact, this assassin was probably one of his own. He was interesting like that.

Eris wiped the thin sword on the sheets and sheathed it. He inspected himself in the mirror, admiring the PANK clothes. Once upon a time he'd chosen to wear them simply because color was the only choice he'd been given. Now he wore them simply because he rather liked how they looked. They accented his black hair and green eyes quite nicely.

All dressed up and ready to go, Eris opened the door and wheeled in the breakfast tray left by the innkeeper. The wheels squeaked up a storm, waking everyone who wasn't already up and informing the innkeeper that Eris had lived through another night. He had an hour or so to finish breakfast before the innkeeper would bring him his itinerary for the day. Ah, today was pizza. Eris liked pizza, it reminded him of the hero academy. He took off his silk gloves, revealing mutilated flesh bound into finger forms by crisscrossing wires, and dug in.

[You just dropped the tone like it was dubstep.]

Roger made his way out of the Rusted Gear, one of Mekanos' many taverns and bars. He squinted his eyes, unable to adjust to the morning sun. He had hoped to leave for home before the sun came up, but it seemed that he had once again lost track of time while drinking. He gathered himself outside the door before stumbling toward his apartment.

Roger had found a small residence near the miners' district of town, in one of the buildings built into the walls of the valley where the town was located. Roger didn't have to live near the mines anymore now that he'd been fired, but he preferred familiar ground to the open air of the outer edges of town. The apartment was tiny, barely enough to contain a man of his size. Ironically, though, it was the same size as the room provided by the Mekanos Mining Association, except that he had had to share his room with other miners then. The solitude was new, and Roger wasn't sure he would be able to adjust. He made sure to wind through the roads of Mekanos, nodding to folks that he knew or miners on their way to work.

On one of the cobbled roads, he noticed a young man walking by with a prosthetic arm that caught his eye. Prosthetics were common enough; men often suffered accidents in the poorly planned mining tunnels. Rarely, though, were they as intricate as the arm Roger saw on this young fellow. He figured it must have been a custom creation, and an exceedingly expensive one at that. Roger let his eyes follow the arm as its owner made his way to his destination, then continued on his own way before long.

Martin woke up when the sunlight hit his eyes. He felt groggy as he got out of his makeshift shelter. He looked towards the sky to it lit with a bright blue hue. He went to a bush in the campsite to pick some berries from it. He climbed up a tree and grabbed his bag from an over hanging treebranch. He reached inside and got his water bottle and took a quick drink from it. He climbed to the very top of the tree to have a quick look around the area.

He saw Mekanos in the distance. He knew because he was there just yesterday. He even met an inventor with a mechanical arm. He turned around on the trunk to see more forest extend to the horizen. He turned again to see an old marble roof, that was almost hidden by the trees. At once He decided to head towards the ruins seeing if there was anything worth finding in them. He climbed down the tree and started heading towards the direction of the ruins. Martin had always enjoyed exploring forests, there was always something he liked about them. Maybe it was due to him being raised by his grandparents. He always liked being outdoors in general he just found crowded citys to be too...cramped. Martin approached a nearby stream and began filling his water bottle. He wondered if ruins will have anything special in it.

Martin approached the ruined building, strange markings were above the doorway. The forest had taken the ruins over, vines creeping along the outer walls. The ruins themselves were not small, they weren't very big either. He grabbed a small flashlight from his bag and entered the building. The inside was a bit better off, everything still seemed intact. When he entered a small room he found shelves containing old books. Some were in bad condition and couldn't even be read. Others had some passages that were an entirely different language. There was this one book though that was in perfect condition Martin was confused at how something like this could survive for so long. Martin was very skeptical about the book belonging here. When Martin looked inside he was shocked to see that the language in the writing was the same as the other books. He wanted to know what this book said, he put it in his bagthinking he could find someone who could decipher it in Mekanos.
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[sorry if this sucks. I am not a very good writer.]

Zephiur was turning to leave when something caught his eye. It was a soldier from the Mekanosian military. He grimaced a bit; he didn't really enjoy having the military be the ones to wind up the Grand Clockwork each day, but he couldn't fight it either or else he would be locked up like his dad. The mere thought of the military angered him, but he calmed himself down. It wasn't time yet; there was more to be done before he could overthrow the military's iron grip. For now he resolved to just sit in a bench and glare at the soldier for a bit, but then he flicked his goggles down to do some browsing. He needed materials, but the MMA is usually extremely busy so it's better off if he pre-orders what he needs.

What time /was/ it? Too early, that was for sure. And yet the casino already had a pleasantly-sized crowd bustling about. Many people liked to get an early start in the casino to test their luck. The worse their gambling addiction, the earlier they came. And the breakfast buffet wasn't half bad, either.
But there was nothing unusual about the buffet today. There was a commotion rising near the card tables, and the sounds of an argument of sorts could be heard from one of the Black Jack tables.

"You cheating bitch! You're in with the dealer, I know it!"
The man roaring across the table was scruffy and obviously inebriated--and at such an odd hour, too. Many people in Mekanos enjoyed their drink a little too much, and carried the scent of booze wherever they walked. It was worse with the old, jaded workers who were so prepared for retirement that they were practically out the door of their workplace already.

The woman who was currently the target for the drunk man's anger leaned back in her chair and tossed her black braid over her shoulder, eying him coolly. "You insult me," she said amiably. "I wouldn't dream of cheating. If you think knowing how to play the game is cheating, then you don't belong at this table. You should stick to playing Go Fish."

"Galiena..." the dealer spoke. His tone was a warning to the woman. "Keep the insults to yourself. You might be on break but you can still get in trouble for picking fights with the other patrons."

Galiena drew her eyebrows together slightly and pursed her lips. "Fine. I'll fold, then. My break's almost over anyway." She put her cards down on the table and scooped up her winnings, flashing the drunk man a tiny, smug smile. "Good day to /you/ sir," she said. "Hope you have an easier time winning back your cheddar now."
She didn't stick around to hear his retort. Galiena walked off, heading for the employee work rooms. She was due to host a cribbage tournament in about an hour.

Genjie opened his eyes,through many protests from his own body he sat up looking through the makeshift camp he made with the other able body men of the caravan. He trained his eyes on the still sleeping members, they reminded him of his own family before his mother died....

"So your awake." Said the very man who contracted him a week ago.

"Mekanos should be a few short miles from here, Ill make sure to give the rest of the cheddar I owe you mercenary"

Genjie Lost in my own thoughts starts thinking of what he should do next. He would need to stock up on more supplies before he decided to take up any offers. Before he was able to stand up he herd the large chime of the Grand clockwork, he wondered how people could stand the that loud thing in the capital, whoever made must have been sadistic.

"We will be heading out in a few minutes, make sure all your possesions are packed." Genjie said as he scouted the road up ahead.


Today feels like its going to be a long day.

Garrett made his way to the town square. While it was still fairly early, the city of Mekanos seemed very lively. Fellow travellers and merchants buzzed past, as they were in a hurry to get to where they were going. Garrett would need to rush as well, if he wanted to be the first minstrel at the square.
Garrett started to drag his feet when he saw that a musician had already claimed a spot at the fountain. He started to walk toward the Rusted Gear, when he saw a young man with a prosthetic arm sitting on a bench. He seemed troubled, so Garrett began to play a tune on his sitar. He did not stop walking however, but he hoped the young man would hear his tune and improve his mood.

Zephiur looked up, his goggles raising, at the sound of the sitar. It was a relaxing melody, and the instrument of choice was rarely heard. He nodded his head to the rhythm, and once the minstrel made his way over, he tapped a few times on the touch panel of his mechanical arm. A small drawer box shot out of a blank space in his arm, and he pulled out some spare change he had from a few of his minor purchases. "Hey, minstrel." he called. "Have some coin for your music." he offered the change with a smile.

There is a small patch of land to the south, situated on the coast. It is unique. It is dead. Even in the swamps and bogs where decay and rot runs rampant, life still exists. Not here. No worms or insects crawl through the soil. No trees grow, no animals roam, and not a single blade of grass pokes through the dirt. Even the sky above is empty; flight offers no haven from the Dead Land.

There are no paths in the Dead Land. Few are foolish enough to travel through it. The rare and lucky few who have gone through the Dead Lands and lived to tell of it speak of ash and bone; the burnt husks of trees dot the ground, intermingled with corpses of man and animal alike. No one knows what brings such death to this small area of the coastline. Some believe an ancient curse, others that it is a gathering place for demons; the more logical believe that it is a manifestation of Eternal power. All are wrong.

In the midst of ruined lands there lie a few cracked bricks, and a once-ornate throne now burnt nearly to cinders. These few ruins are all that are left of a city, and a civilization. From his seat in the city of Hilcover, Maloch once overlooked the land of Trejin, a land of knowledge and prosperity. Now, nearly 700 years later, Maloch overlooks the same land, land now burned to ashes a hundred times over. Maloch will not allow any trace of life to defile the land that is rightfully Hilcover's.

Maloch examines the ash covered stones beside his Ashen Throne. He has rested too long. Maloch does not know hunger nor fatigue; resting is inexcusable. He rises, and takes his Screaming Blade in hand. Within it he holds the agony of thousands of victims, pathetic scum that dared to defile the world with their presence. Descendants of the accursed barbarians who had burned his family, his city, and his country to ashes, ruining all that was good in the world. Their presence was a cancer on the world. A cancer that Maloch would excise.

Maloch set out. He knew that the barbarians had cities nearby. He had visited several over his centuries of life, and wiped out them all. But there were always more. The barbarians bred like rodents, always spreading their pathetic offspring across the former lands of Trejin. They could breed all they liked. Maloch was eternal. There would always be more of them, but Maloch would always be there to slaughter them.

The ground cracked under his feet. Maloch left his dead domain and headed for a city.