Ruin's Ancient Warriors

[Tychris1]

Ruin, Rise, and Redemption

 

 

People - On Ruin there are no people. There is a person. A figure, generally around two meters tall with twisted horns included, and lusciously lithe. Normally pale of skin, with eyes like the bloody moon or the bleeding sun eclipsed in the day, and deceptively sharp teeth. With long pointed ears, svelte grooming, and wrenching fingers to gouge the eye. They are Merlyn. Sometimes they appear a little differently, with slight changes in hair, pigmentation, or sexual organs, and yet they all possess the same fundamental traits. Preternatural strength, reflexes, heightened senses (including minor dark vision), rampant often cripplingly operose ego, regenerative flesh, and seeming agelessness past a certain point of maturity (Or immaturity depending on how you see it). Merlyn are ostensibly omnivorous but flagrantly prefer flesh and blood. Indeed they must at least partially consume some overtime to maintain proper homeostasis. The more blood and choice flesh consumed the stronger and more deadly they become. The flesh and blood of living thinking creatures are like the sweetest ambrosia. They are also extremely infertile, most likely owing to the blasted origins of their kind, and natural births with outsiders or inbred bastards are vanishingly rare. Instead, most Merlyn appear nearly fully formed out of The Blood Pits or underground Eggs, mewling, disoriented, and with genetic memory guiding them to survival. Copies upon copies, mirrors within mirrors, and an endless circle of the soul.

 

Outside of Ruin, predominately upon Rise or Redemption there exist Elementals. Prolonged exposure and close proximity to Ruin however has left their minds muddled, their "Thread' tainted, and driven to subservience or domination. Their forms appear wrong and their Essence seems sheared towards bedlam and banditry earning them the moniker "Darkkin". The two live in a stratified and tense relationship, with Merlyn often forming roving gangs or warbands with yoked Elementals, and blurred lines of power beyond. Some form into more conjoined and relatively equal structures, which tend to last the longest as a result, and generally center around Cult structures or Bloodbound Oathpacts of bonded Warriors. The greatest of these are Ruin's Ancient Warriors, who roam the Red Wastes in search of Holy Salvage, and sail the sea upon razor-sleek crafts cutting waves like the veins of the world. Ruled by Merlyn Zan Cuddlu, their stylized armor is hobbled together from salvaged materials, and smeared red with the sand and pigment of their treasured wasteland. They maintain the closest thing to "Order" among the three islands and extract tribute from all lesser powers in the region.

 

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Geography - "Do not seek the Isles Three, young summer child, for nothing lay there for you but blood and ashes. Ruin be a hollow land, devoid of proper lifegiving soil, and the red dirt that spreads beyond nurtures nothing but the poison weed that strangles the dead. Where the sky be dark and the Bleeding Star hangs heavy in the heavens at night. Look upon its great decrepit works and despair. Dilapidated castles, shattered structures, toppled towers, and bottomless dungeons pock its surface. The grandest of these shambles is Caler Myrfddin at the heart of Ruin. Where I am from. Where hopefully, someday, I will Die.

 

But not this day.

 

Rise may on the surface seem more inhabitable but the Darkkin will gut you as soon as I would. Their forests are thick with gnarled roots, foul fungus, and maddeningly babbling brooks. I hear they whisper the secrets of stone and horn to those who listen carefully and for the right price I could show you how. But stray too deep into a cave, too high up the mountains, or too long by the river and you may never come back. No what you seek is Redemption. A pristine land, where the game be plenty, the wind soft, and hope for a new slice of life lay. Something everyone going there will kill to have, in case you wish for services after we lands."

 

- Merlyn Duh Artur, Captain of the Claw&Caw

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Faith - The faith of the three isles is predominately that of the Cult of the Wyrm. They believe the Heavens are the many scales of the deadly Wyrm who has existed since time immemorial and the Bleeding Star that can be seen from Ruin is its ominous watchful eye.  A looming executioner of the sky, the tail of the Bleeding Star as it surges across the heavens has been identified as the point of its baleful focus, and many a blood oath is sworn by Blackguard or Paladin alike in the direction of its trail. Sea Captains will refuse to sail the way of its tail unless they make proper sacrifice, set out for blood, or have no desire to return alive anyway. The Wyrm roams the night sky a shade of devastation, slithering inquisitor of the starry hours, and herald of the Rose Moon's fate-threaded omens and the Sun's unstoppable smiting. The Wyrm is not a being to pray to in the midst of battle, for they will not hear your prayers, so drawn are they to the swirl of pitched chaos, nay, only in the beating of your heart, the quickening of your blood, and the final gasp of exertion ending a life or drawing ones final breath the only hymn they recognize. A final muttered word over a falling friend or foe. For swift doom may often be ignoble it at least preserves dignity over the slow collapse. The ruination of more than just flesh and blood. Some prophets and seers claim to see the Wyrm in their dreams manifested as a softly glowing harvest moon overlooking a vast burning field or a red sun sweeping over an endless desert. But most depict the Wyrm as a Dragon of brobdingnagian size and terrible heat; Whose eye alone consumes your sightline as you stare into the End of all Things.

 

For the Wyrm is the end of all things. The flame which burns the forest and from the ashes a new world arises. So is it with the world so is it with ourselves, our very souls judged by the harbinger of doom and devastation. If found wanting, the soul is regurgitated out into the world to wander aimlessly and seek a more suitable end. Those abundantly blessed by the Wyrm, striving across battlefields or bitter conflicts, and upon earning their honor simply died.

 

Resource - Cinnabar Salvage is the most abundant resource in Ruin and by extension the other isles. The reddish crimson metal scraps, pieces of ancient gear, tarnished weapons, and withered armor litter the islands from ages past and are quickly hoarded and equipped by any who find it. A cut from the metal is generally deadly, for its flecks infuse into the wound, and even prove deleterious to Merlyn. To fuel not only the voracious appetite of a Merlyn but the gnawing savagery of the Darkkin requires a great deal of Flesh and Blood.

 

Starting Technology: Sailing

 

Edited May 25, 2023 by Tychris1 (see edit history)

[Tychris1]

Leader: Merlyn Zan Cuddlu

 

Diplomacy: 5
Military: 3

Industry: 4

Faith: 2
Intrigue: 5

Round 4 Stat Growth: +1 Dip, +1 Mil, +1 Int

 

Technologies: Tall Sails (Sail coastal)

Brick and Mortar (+1 Resist Sack/Raid)

Markets and Carts (+1 Buyout)

Animal Husbandry (+1 Dip/Ind Explore)

Irrigation (+1 Stabilize)