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Backstory (pls read)

Long ago, when the Elves first came to Lenovia, they waged war with the five bestial Godkings of the Humans and the Nords. They imprisoned them deep beneath their great city-island of Aldor while their followers fought futile wars against their technically advanced foe, each hoping to earn the eternal gratitude of their masters by slaughtering the captors and setting them free into the world again. For centuries the Elves held them back, and slowly converted the humans away from their "heretical" faith. Soon they were split, between the elf-loving south and the northerners who allied with the nords. All seemed to be going well for the invaders, all until the Nords discovered the secrets of their Magitek, and stole it from them. Their curses and hexes had been supressed by the Elves, futile against their combat magicks. But when the gap between civilizations was closed, the war began to turn very, very quickly. The Nords landed on sacred Aldor, began to plunder the wonders of civilization. But their crusading foe had one final trick up their sleeves: The Tower. A massive cannon capable of storing magical energy and releasing it as an extremely destructive blast capable of destroying continents. Had Alikor or his architects had but one more day, the war would have been finished for the barbarians. But they had no last day. The Nords invaded their offshore island on boats of metal, fueled by mana. Their numbers were too many, and the weapon was fired too soon.


It was the day the world died.

Aldor was split into many pieces. The home of the nords battered by the great waves the explosion wrought, creating its fjords, and dragging its cities into the sea. Seas were made where land once was, wastelands made of the great sprawling cities of the ancients. Storms and bad weather wrecked what was not torn apart. And worst of all, the Godkings and all their evil minions poured from the depths, intent on revenge against their captors and those who dared to follow them.

The only ones opposing them were the crusaders.
Their orders had been dissolved on the victory of the Elves over the false Gods when they had first arrived, but were reformed as the threat was reborn. Donning their plate embibed with the ancient runes, their crossbows that made bolts out of pure Magicka, their swords that contained the wisdom of the ancients, they fought back the monstrous invasion. They went after the gods themselves, intent on ending them permanently so they might never attack Aldor again. And when they were done, they layed down their battle armors and their ancient weapons, intent that the old ways of blood and war never be returned to. They took up a new role as guardians and protectors of the Elven states in the new Aldoric archipelago, intent on rebuilding civilization and making their race strong again, away from the fears of the false gods' minions.


As Aldor began to develop anew, its people congregated into great tower cities, where powerful magi resided to easily dispatch the crusaders or their fellow arcane practicers to get rid of any monstrous remnants that threatened their people. In the old days, they roamed the skies on mounts of feather and claw, to fight the mighty dragons who burned the crops of their villages, and kill them in their realm. The crusaders were truly adepts at the art of killing those creatures who threatened the peace, so much so that in time  they split into many orders spread around the world, all of which subscribe to their original purpose: To protect the people from the demonic evils that escaped on the day of reckoning.

Those days, however, are no more.

Aldor is a sick land, its defenders, the Crusaders who are now known as the Knights of the Griffin Order, have grown lazy and corrupt. They have abandoned the far south and north of the islands to dragons and the savage nords and humans who worship them as favored creatures of their "gods". Tower cities fall one by one, generation by generation more and more of the Elven people migrate to safer lands in the east. And through it all, the whispers of an ancient evil can be heard louder every day, as the monsters grow bolder as do the invading colonists.

You are a Knight of the Griffin, new recruit or Veteran you have firmly placed yourself into their care. Your reasons are your own but be warned, there are dark secrets behind this mask of philanthropy. Ancient oaths betrayed, deals with the devil made, and a civilization doomed to stagnation and decay.

Races

Nords

Strong and sturdy, the Nords have much renown as expert warriors and navigators. They generally worship the five old gods, and those who stray from this worship are harshly ostracized. Outside their lands, however, their unique appearance and history of raiding have made them targets for harsh discrimination and general malice. For many Nords who are unable to live in their own lands due to a disagreement with tradition, military orders are the sole groups who will accept them. Thus while it may seem contradictory for a Nord to be enrolled in a historically Elven group like the Crusader orders, there are a noticeable minority of Nordic members, though they are generally kept out of leadership positions and their advancement is severely stunted. The Nords are considered to not be very traditional by Caelian and Elven society, but they are in fact quite so in their own way. Much emphasis on religion of the Old Gods and whoever is the strongest. There is little sexual dimorphism when it comes to Nords, meaning there are a good number of warrior women to be found in their society. This adds to a perception by the other races as being alien to "civilized" society.

Humans

Most of the humans living in Aldor are the Caelians, a group of seafaring cultures that make their homes in the various islands of the shattered Sea of Aldor and the various inlets and fjords of the mainland. They generally adopt the Pentarchist faith, a revisionist offshoot of the original worship of the Old Gods that was formulated by the ancient Aldoric Elves to divide human sensibilities. It contends the Old Gods are in fact ethereal beings with no true physical form, and therefore the Godkings that once ruled over Lenovia were, in fact, false imitations. The Caelians are the main trade partners of the Elves, and though the more traditionalist among them still harbor some disdain for Elvenkind, many more adventurous types tend to join up with Crusader orders if they find themselves exiled for one reason or another. Like Nords, they are kept out of senior leadership, however unlike Nords they are allowed in low level command positions. Caelian society is mostly built around war and trade over the sea. While not as traditional as the Elves, the Caelians come pretty close. Much emphasis on seniority and naval superstition.

Elves

The original inhabitants of Aldor and a sadly dwindling culture, the Aldoric Elves generally live in the aforementioned tower cities for security reasons since the declining prowess of the Griffin Order has allowed monstrous beasts to overtake many undefended rural towns. While there is some agricultural sprawl outside the walls of the tower cities, it is mostly limited to places that are within the view of the main spire. Nevertheless, the magically gifted rulers of these cities will spend exorbitant amounts of gold on armies that are able to defend even the most undeveloped territories that they claim from Caelian and Nordic settlers, as well as other tower kingdoms. As the order declined, so too did the stability of Aldor's politics. The petty kingdoms frequently war with each other, sapping the resources of the remaining Aldoric civilization and causing many kingdoms on the fringe to collapse and be overtaken by foreigners and monsters. Many elves have left for the east, where exiles created two great kingdoms that have a far brighter future than any of the minor lordlings of the shattered home island. They are the group most respectful of the Order for obvious reasons, and their lands give great boons to them such as an official legal authority and mandated pay for their services. They make up the majority of the Order, and make up every single member of the senior leadership. Joining was once considered a great honor, but decay has made it into a convenient way to get rid of rival heirs to land and wealth for many important families. Elves are generally a very traditionalist society, placing a lot of emphasis on gender roles, seniority, and religion (Two twin creator spirits of magic and the mundane created the universe, basically. Arcane knowledge is highly valued, and opposite sex twins are forced into marriages to emulate the gods)

Map

So yeah, you're a crusader, a knight who works to hunt down monsters/serve as an unofficial sheriff in the increasingly lawless petty kingdoms that inhabit the Aldoric Isles. As either a Nord, Human, or an Elf you are charged with keeping the peace and making sure that the civilizations of Aldor remain standing at the end of the day, no matter what evil sorcerer or vile demon is conspiring to destroy it this time. As you go on, though, you may find your job getting harder, and what you thought was true might be called into question by the whispers of dead men.

General Rules of this setting: Tech level is generally late roman, with the exception of magitek artifacts that you will acquire through plot events. Elves are good spellcasters, but aren't as good at hexes and curses, humans are jack of all, master of none Magic-wise, and Nords generally can't cast spells, but they can cast hexes, do alchemy, and enchant. Magic prowess is a combination of natural talent and training. An untrained mage is about as dangerous as a butter knife. Elves don't live any longer than humans nor do they have lower birthrates, the only people with really long life spans are the very best mages, and if you were a one of the best mages you wouldn't be stuck in an organization like this. When it comes to names, Caelian humans are an analogue for hellenistic cultures so names ought to reflect that, though there is some room for names from other seafaring cultures of the eastern mediterranean. Nords, obviously, have Norse names. As for Elves, just make something up. Names like Farkan, Nikanuur, Alikar, and Nilaeus are some examples of Elven names in this setting.

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If this character had a classic RPG class, what would it be?:

I'm interested. Been looking forward to a fantasy RP.

I added in the races with pictoral depictions and literary descriptions.

Added a map, signup info to come soon

Added a Sign-Up sheet

Mysterious masked Elven mage, young human knight (horse, lance, emotional baggage and plate armor included), or a grizzled old Nord blacksmith-enchanter?

Mysterious masked Elven mage, young human knight (horse, lance, emotional baggage and plate armor included), or a grizzled old Nord blacksmith-enchanter?

Well, plate armor has yet to be reinvented (I'll put in a general magic and technology guideline) and stirrups are rare this far west (Caelians aren't known for being very good cavalrymen) but those all sound like fun characters.

Mysterious masked Elven mage, young human knight (horse, lance, emotional baggage and plate armor included), or a grizzled old Nord blacksmith-enchanter?

Well, plate armor has yet to be reinvented (I'll put in a general magic and technology guideline) and stirrups are rare this far west (Caelians aren't known for being very good cavalrymen) but those all sound like fun characters.

Magitek megacannons are lying about everywhere, but I can't have a lone plate-armored knight? Mmmm

Also, what's the difference between spells, curses, and hexes?

Sign Up Information:
Name: Rhys Ilinan
Race/Age/Sex: Elven, 48, Male

Appearance

A Long But Important Bio

The elf you know as Rhys Ilinan, the Masked Mage, is a carefully constructed falsehood, a smoke screen. Rhys' real name is Folen Raloxina, of the now defunct House Raloxina. By all accounts, Folen's childhood was a happy and uneventful one. He showed great promise in the magical arts, for which his wealthy parents payed tutors to educate him. It is unknown whether he had any older siblings, but if he did it seems they didn't leave a noteworthy impression on Rhys.

However, one day long ago when Folen was barely old enough to be a squire, his house's claim over one of the many great Elven cities in the land was suddenly and successfully challenged by rival House Phixidor, costing his family their lives in a spectacular betrayal and military defeat. During the ensuing massacre, Yrlissa Phixidor, the young heiress of the Phixidor family and Folen's elder by half a decade, unexpectedly moved to show mercy to Folen, and she managed to convince her father to stay the hands of her family's forces. Perhaps her heart was swayed to spare the poor boy by her conscience, or by mindfulness of the goddess Ellenwe who she wished to emulate. Perhaps she calculated that the powerful novice making a impressive yet futile effort to defend himself in their rival's keep could be of some use later, with a shift in loyalty and a little cultivation. Perhaps the romantics are right, and love really does happen at first sight, overcoming all boundaries of blood and terror (even if this love is not initially, or ever, mutual). Perhaps, notorious as elves are for their instances of vice and decadence, she simply thought that the good-looking athletic youth would make a fine addition to their house's rumored collection, both as a living war trophy and as a servant to bear his masters' wine goblets and to warm their beds. Perhaps she was tired of watching her idiot father waste a disproportionate amount of men and mana to kill one annoying elf who might have been willing to surrender himself for a while now had he just been given the offer. The fact is, he was spared, and nobody knows for what purpose. Rhys was never told why he was saved, and Mistress Yrlissa never felt the need to explain herself to anyone but her father, who was also silent on the matter.

She ordered that, rather than being put to the sword or spell, Folen be merely enslaved. However, chains or threatened violence (however brutal or constant) would not suffice for one with strong magic blood forever, especially if Yrlissa wished to see his talent grow and be utilized in combat. He would need to be charmed, branded as a thrall. Folen was imprisoned in the deepest, most reinforced cell of the mighty Phixidor Keep, as a summons was sent around the land for expert practitioners of psychomancy, logomancy, and other related dark arts to craft a masterwork spell, binding Folen's life and will to the general will of the Phixidor clan. Though they received their experts, the spell itself proved to be rather difficult, as although the family was publicly the veritable emblem of unity in the region, too many secret agendas and rivalries lay hidden, such that the wizards and witches couldn't be certain that Folen would do anything at all when called upon, let alone guarantee anyone's safety from his wrath should he attempt escape or revenge. Yrlissa, herself an adept sorceress, proposed a solution which, although it was readily adapted and implemented by the team of magicians, proved to be somewhat subversive: as she was the heiress of the family as well as the one who saved his life, she reasoned, Folen should simply be bound to Yrlissa alone. The mages, desperate as they were for a breakthrough, agreed to modify the spell and keep the change in secret while they collected their coin and left the city. The spell was finally written and, in a tortuous process that involved branding charms, tattooing words and symbols , and chanting curses over the course many hours, was woven into Folen. By the end of it, wounded, broken, and begging for death, Folen Raloxina's fate was sealed as the lifelong thrall of Yrlissa Phixidor. All of this was done in the utmost secrecy, so as to not offend the greater Elven society which the Phixidors intended on dominating.

Years passed, the Phixidors consolidated and spread their influence, and Folen grew, becoming a common sight as one of the Phixidors' many servants. Within a few years, the other Phixidors came to realize the open secret that Rhys was only Yrlissa's thrall and not that of the family, but there was little they could do about it. They didn't care to spend the absurd amount of coin needed to fix the spell, and Yrlissa was the heiress, after all. Folen had just finished his education alongside the other Phixidor children when Yrlissa, now a beautiful young woman, decided that she ought to instruct him to a greater degree than the others in the arcane arts and ordered that it be so, taking him away from his obligations as cup-bearer and making him a full-time student. Sometimes, expert magicians and philosophers traveled by, and would impart the latest in magic and scientific knowledge to them. Sometimes, Folen and Yrlissa would train, study, and practice as a pair, with Yrlissa's fine-tuned and refined experience pit against the extensive knowledge and natural, growing skill of Folen. Often, he would be studying and practicing alone. It was in these lone hours that Folen himself devised his own treachery: a spell meant to break the curse upon him so that he could escape and wreak havoc on the Phixidors without Yrlissa there to stop him. However, navigating the magical equations and webs of enchantments and devising a solution was a task that even the ancient wizards of legend would have struggled with, even if it did not have to be done entirely in secret and in Folen's free time. Naturally, even devising a preliminary baseline spell took him years. It was during this time that Folen developed a fascination and fixation with the magical technology of old, believing that it held the key to erasing his bonds and to annihilating his enemies.

It was also during this time that he developed something of a relationship with Yrlissa. While even Rhys never knew whether it ever turned into true love, Folen managed to slowly leave behind his hatred and fear of the heiress and Yrlissa discarded her disdain and her cold attitude towards her thrall, and the two young elves came to enjoy each other's company, even during the most trying hours of their training. Rumors of the happenings behind the study doors during their private sessions flew around the court to serve as amusement for Yrlissa and embarrassment for Folen at the nearly nightly banquets. While it is unclear whether the relationship was ever sexual like the gossipers believe, the two certainly showed strong respect towards each other in public, were found near each other constantly, and became something like best friends. Near the end, Folen's work on his escape spell noticeably slowed. The ghosts of his family didn't haunt him like they might have haunted others: it seems he had found someone to care for and to care for him, among the enemy. Yrlissa even gave him a gift, as a token of her appreciation for Folen: a silver amulet with a smoothed blue glass scrying gem. It's a possession he still wears, uses, and treasures to this day.

However, nothing lasts forever. While Folen experimented with magic and while he and Yrlissa trained, political alliances and loyalties shifted almost imperceptibly, and suddenly it was Yrlissa who was next on the kill list of the dominant members of the Phixidor family, trying to rob her of her controversial birthright. Yrlissa, who was no political novice, had advance warning of her family's betrayal and brought Folen with her as she and a large contingent of bodyguards attempted to flee to a friendly nearby city in the dead of night. Guards loyal to the other Phixidors caught wind of the escape, however, and a vicious battle ensued as the entourage reached the outer gates. In the chaos, Folen was separated from Yrlissa, and in a moment of recklessness he decided it would be the perfect time to attempt what he had been planning for so many years. He retrieved his notes and, praying to the twin gods for success, cast a crude prototype spell of liberation on himself. Although it is to this day somewhat unclear whether the spell succeeded or failed, the immediate side effects were devastating: temporary blindness, temporary deafness, complete disruption of balance and strength, and a white-hot pain spreading out from the pit of the stomach. Right as Folen began to recover from his own spell, a Phixidor soldier accosted him, slicing his face badly. Folen returned the favor with a lethal telekinetic bolt and quickly retreated by jumping into the moat, where he was able to make an escape from the city. During the flight he was injured by the moat's enchantments and his wound became infected, so he went to the closest neutral city and met with an apothecary, taking the assumed name Rhys Ilinan. The apothecary, having done all she could for his wounds, referred him to a maker of enchanted wears nearby, who she claimed could help ensure his health. The master enchanter, a elderly Nord, crafted him a mask of ivory and silver that would serve to both hide and slowly, carefully heal his wound, as well as mitigate the continuing side-effects of his freedom spell until Rhys could cast a spell correcting his mistakes. Rhys paid the master enchanter with a bag of gems he stole from his captors and took off across the country, as a wizard errant.

Decades passed in this way, with Rhys traveling the lands of Andor as a mysterious masked mage, doing good deeds which only the arcane could accomplish for the rewards of food, board, and coin. Throughout his travels, he also stopped by whatever ancient ruins he came upon, performing experiments and studying what old artifacts he could find in order to better understand the world and maybe, just maybe, to find something that would empower him to take revenge against the Phixidors and discover Yrlissa's whereabouts. The wound eventually healed, leaving behind a nasty scar, but Rhys elected to leave the mask on. He found it unlikely that the agents of the Phixidors would waste their time chasing about a ghostly masked magician when there were probably better leads. However, he always saw and heard things that convinced him that he was being followed, causing him to be increasingly paranoid. To make matters worse psychologically, he always felt in his heart of hearts that his spell had failed and that Yrlissa, his mistress, was somehow still alive and was calling to him, imperceptibly and inexorably leading him to her against his will for some unknown end. Eventually, he decided (or Yrlissa commanded him) to join the Crusaders, seeing as there was good steady flow of coin to be found, an alibi to travel the lands rootlessly without arousing the suspicions of guards or Phixidor agents, and a reasonable amount of bodyguard-like protection provided by having a few meathead teammates around him 24/7. Killing monsters and criminals would just some simple dirty work: thieves are scared off easily by lightning, and a nokken sulking in a pond is nothing a little ice spell can't handle, for example. So he joined, breezed through training quietly, and kept everything else about "Rhys Ilinan" a deep and dark secret, to serve as intrigue for the rest of the Crusaders and to pad himself with the stories that young knights would weave about the mysterious masked Elven mage. The rest is history.

If this character had a classic RPG class, what would it be?: Wizard, with diplomatic and roguish trappings.

Looks good so far, can't wait to see what his backstory is!

Mysterious masked Elven mage, young human knight (horse, lance, emotional baggage and plate armor included), or a grizzled old Nord blacksmith-enchanter?

Well, plate armor has yet to be reinvented (I'll put in a general magic and technology guideline) and stirrups are rare this far west (Caelians aren't known for being very good cavalrymen) but those all sound like fun characters.

Magitek megacannons are lying about everywhere, but I can't have a lone plate-armored knight? Mmmm

Also, what's the difference between spells, curses, and hexes?

There is plate armor, but it's all either ridiculously good loot that you will EARN IN TIME, or very expensive antiques only worn by the nobility who can afford a centuries old, uncorrupted Magitek metal artifact that hasn't been destroyed in the numerous wars since the secret of forging the stuff was lost.

As for the difference, spellcasting is shooting stuff out of your hands. Cursebinding is more like "Boil, boil, toil and trouble", cauldrons and summoning circles, all that good shit.

@Gerrick

want to get started on your signup?

@Gerrick

want to get started on your signup?

Yeah, I'll be putting one up tomorrow. Trying to decide what I want to go with.

Name: Mithon "Hannikal(Favoured by Kal)" Ben-Melqart (Quick note, you mentioned you mentioned eastern Mediterranean seafaring cultures so I went Phoenician for my name.)
Race/Age/Sex: Human/28/Male

Apperance

Bio:

Spoiler

Mithon was born to a daughter of a minor noble, who really didn't want her father to know about her pregnancy and promptly gave him up to the priests of Kal, one of the minor aspects of the Pentarch Acelia. These priests were dedicated to the healing of the sick and helping the poor, including orphans such as himself. He soon showed remarkable aptitude in the healing magics practiced by the Priests, and was taken as the personal student of Melqart, Archpriest of Kal at the age of 8. Melqart taught him both physical healing skills and magic and soon found the child to be more blessed in the healing arts then even himself, giving him the nickname Hannikal. Melqart quickly became Mithon's father figure and, as he had no last name as an orphan, with Melqart's blessing he took the last name Ben-Melqart to show how close they were. As he grew up he quickly went up the ranks, as the Priests of Kal do not judge one's rank within the order by age or seniority but by skill and Melqart offered to make him a full fledged Priest of Kal, only subordinate to the Archpriest.

On the night of his consecration as a true priest of Kal however, Melqart, who was supposed to consecrate him was found murdered. Through a chain of events that confuses him to this day he was found guilty of the crime and banished from the priesthood, and would have been killed had he not escaped. Mithon has always suspected that the perpetrator of this crime was Priest Batnoam, the assumed successor of Melqart after his death until Mithon came onto the scene. He could never be sure however. This was simply the start of his bad luck that ended in him becoming a Knight of the Griffin Order.

Despite being banished from the Priesthood he took the title of Priest of Kal anyway, and never gave up his faith in Kal. This, as far as he was concerned, was a test of his faith in Kal and the Old Gods. He would not disappoint his god. Mithon was fortunate enough to have learned how to ride on horseback from Melqart, who had taught him how to ride so that he could go tend to far off villages. He stopped at these villages along the way, the people giving back the kindness he had shown in treating their sick for free. Yet disaster always seemed to follow him. Plagues, famines, hurricanes, droughts. He could not tell if it was simply the land itself dying or if he himself brought it along with him. Soon the villages that had once praised his name cursed him, seeing that his presence had started all the disasters that befell them. Determined to serve his god however he decided to travel far into the lands of Aldor, away from his home and from his temple, where his god and language were foreign. Yet his luck never seemed to improve.

Mithon's most recent incident resulted in him being accused of raping a nobleman's daughter. Once again running away on his trusty horse, Yehomilk, he ended up at a fortress of the Griffin Knights, being trailed by an angry mod. They gave him two options, join the Order then and there and they would disperse the mob. Refuse and they would throw him to it. He had no choice but to comply.

If this character had a classic RPG class, what would it be?: Cleric

This sounded so interesting that I just had to join! Hope my application is satisfactory.
Edit: I should note I plan to expand on my backstory at some point, if only because ideas are rolling around in my head.

Added additional skills to Rhys, and a long and masterfully crafted bio. Y'all better appreciate it