Jade Dragonair
my own private thermopylae
Two things are certain for the players: there are the Games and there are the Gods.
Sometimes they are Games, and Gods, but more often they are simply 'games' and 'gods'; even the momentous grows commonplace after enough time.
The gods are not what most of the players would concieve as 'gods' - they are petty, malicious, ill-tempered, incredibly violent, self-aggrandizing, and of an image disturbingly unlike that of any of the players. But those wretched creatures hold so much power over their teams, and seem simply to exist on such a higher level than the players, that it was inevitable that they would be called gods. The games, as far as the players can discern, are for their amusement only.
The games themselves are simple enough; many players seem to recall similar games played by children in their worlds. Four teams to a game, each with its own color of orb - not one, not two, but twenty-four orbs to a team - each team must steal twelve orbs from other teams, keeping twenty-two of its own, to win - and orbs can be stolen and restolen, over and over again. Aside from this, the rules are essentially unknown. But the field, and the players, turn a long and exhausting game into an interminable and grueling war.
The field is circular and without borders, mostly of cracked grey stone, carved here and there with remnants of vicious attacks or lost and hopeless players. Each team has a base of wet, black soil, and rising up from each are the monoliths. These are haphazardly constructed, ill-balanced structures of great stone blocks, slick with a disgusting black ooze - but it may be worthwhile to climb them, for hanging just above them are the orbstands, shelves of twenty, then four, then twelve rounded indentations. It is in those stands that those glowing orbs begin, and they cannot be taken out until stolen. Just beyond the monoliths is the rim, the field's outer edge. It is clear, rain-gray water, stretching out to the horizon, and full of black-scaled creatures who will be more than happy to devour any player who crosses their path. They are not the only obstacles; not at all. In the center of the field is the tree. It is not much like a 'real' tree, aside from its shape; it is made of some substance between wood and rock, covered with black scales, and it moves with a single-minded determination to kill. Its great branches swing and pound; it tears blocks from the monoliths and drops them on unsuspecting players. It is slow, but it is not wise to be distracted. That huge field has been the site of many bloody battles, wars of attrition, and both at once. The players do not like it much.
The players themselves are... difficult to describe. Each comes from a different world, with diferent laws; each has been plucked here by a god to join its team, with only the vaguest memories of their past. Each is accomplished, with powers and abilities that may serve them well in battle - but for most, those battles are not exactly enjoyable. For - oh, measurement is difficult - for years? decades? centuries? a very long time, the players have worked towards one goal: release. At first (?), it seemed like death would be the answer, and readily at hand it was. But those who fell at the hands of the other players merely reappeared when the game was over and the team returned to its barracks - broken, sick, but alive and recovering. The sea-creatures and the tree are more terminating; players who died by them seemed rarely to recover, and eventually disappeared - but only after being taken away personally by an angry god. It is not a route that most players want to risk. Then, too, there is a time limit. The players do not age here. But as time passes, as they play and play and are chastised and rewarded by their volatile gods, they remember more and more of the world they left behind. It does not seem like such an awful thing - but they obsess over those memories, are captivated, want only to explore every facet of them. And as they do so, they become more and more like the gods themselves. They become single-minded war machines, impossible to rescue.
And so every new player works feverishly towards a final victory...
---
Rules!
1. Everything you add to the roleplay must be:
3. Signups go here; discussion goes in the OOC.
That's pretty much it. I don't care if you make the occasional typo, or short posts when long ones aren't necessary. I do care about writing so awful I don't want to bother reading it, blatantly impolite rp'ing, and positive inanity.
Forms!
For the record, you're all on the same team (but feel free to introduce npc's on other teams). Note that you're pretty much expected to have unusual powers; they're not that unusual.
Name:
Description:
Bio:
Sample Post:
Sometimes they are Games, and Gods, but more often they are simply 'games' and 'gods'; even the momentous grows commonplace after enough time.
The gods are not what most of the players would concieve as 'gods' - they are petty, malicious, ill-tempered, incredibly violent, self-aggrandizing, and of an image disturbingly unlike that of any of the players. But those wretched creatures hold so much power over their teams, and seem simply to exist on such a higher level than the players, that it was inevitable that they would be called gods. The games, as far as the players can discern, are for their amusement only.
The games themselves are simple enough; many players seem to recall similar games played by children in their worlds. Four teams to a game, each with its own color of orb - not one, not two, but twenty-four orbs to a team - each team must steal twelve orbs from other teams, keeping twenty-two of its own, to win - and orbs can be stolen and restolen, over and over again. Aside from this, the rules are essentially unknown. But the field, and the players, turn a long and exhausting game into an interminable and grueling war.
The field is circular and without borders, mostly of cracked grey stone, carved here and there with remnants of vicious attacks or lost and hopeless players. Each team has a base of wet, black soil, and rising up from each are the monoliths. These are haphazardly constructed, ill-balanced structures of great stone blocks, slick with a disgusting black ooze - but it may be worthwhile to climb them, for hanging just above them are the orbstands, shelves of twenty, then four, then twelve rounded indentations. It is in those stands that those glowing orbs begin, and they cannot be taken out until stolen. Just beyond the monoliths is the rim, the field's outer edge. It is clear, rain-gray water, stretching out to the horizon, and full of black-scaled creatures who will be more than happy to devour any player who crosses their path. They are not the only obstacles; not at all. In the center of the field is the tree. It is not much like a 'real' tree, aside from its shape; it is made of some substance between wood and rock, covered with black scales, and it moves with a single-minded determination to kill. Its great branches swing and pound; it tears blocks from the monoliths and drops them on unsuspecting players. It is slow, but it is not wise to be distracted. That huge field has been the site of many bloody battles, wars of attrition, and both at once. The players do not like it much.
The players themselves are... difficult to describe. Each comes from a different world, with diferent laws; each has been plucked here by a god to join its team, with only the vaguest memories of their past. Each is accomplished, with powers and abilities that may serve them well in battle - but for most, those battles are not exactly enjoyable. For - oh, measurement is difficult - for years? decades? centuries? a very long time, the players have worked towards one goal: release. At first (?), it seemed like death would be the answer, and readily at hand it was. But those who fell at the hands of the other players merely reappeared when the game was over and the team returned to its barracks - broken, sick, but alive and recovering. The sea-creatures and the tree are more terminating; players who died by them seemed rarely to recover, and eventually disappeared - but only after being taken away personally by an angry god. It is not a route that most players want to risk. Then, too, there is a time limit. The players do not age here. But as time passes, as they play and play and are chastised and rewarded by their volatile gods, they remember more and more of the world they left behind. It does not seem like such an awful thing - but they obsess over those memories, are captivated, want only to explore every facet of them. And as they do so, they become more and more like the gods themselves. They become single-minded war machines, impossible to rescue.
And so every new player works feverishly towards a final victory...
---
Rules!
1. Everything you add to the roleplay must be:
a. understandable.
b. enjoyable.
c. sensible.
2. When acting as DM rather than player, my posts are non-negotiable.b. enjoyable.
c. sensible.
3. Signups go here; discussion goes in the OOC.
That's pretty much it. I don't care if you make the occasional typo, or short posts when long ones aren't necessary. I do care about writing so awful I don't want to bother reading it, blatantly impolite rp'ing, and positive inanity.
Forms!
For the record, you're all on the same team (but feel free to introduce npc's on other teams). Note that you're pretty much expected to have unusual powers; they're not that unusual.
Name:
Description:
Bio:
Sample Post:
