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And it was the that final light of an age, spouting onto a gloomy bay, and that chimed in the new light. The still waters of the Ocean of Thres was fed by a roaring river that split down from from the North. The land of men was the area, and it was the empire of Amar.

And, as the old Aulmen tales told, every age ends with a Link. A link in a grand chain that binds the world together, and holds the forces of fate and destiny together. This is the story of that link, and what happens, or who it is, is a mystery..

Premise: You are a band of 5 that meet in a tavern in the lofty city of Ofrey. The rose-laden streets are home to Aulmen, who are akin to bards, scholars, authors, and guile-marked rogues. This band shall set forth, and be subject to the Moderator, myself, who will not make a character, but, rather, guide the RP as a DM does with a game of DnD.

The Characters: The characters can fit these three races: Men, who are the most common race in the area, and either are Antan, Amarian, Ofresian, or Baltan. Amarians can fit the standard stereotypes of knights and feudal lords, and control an empire that controls all of the provinces of Men. Baltans are generally hardy, tough-skinned warriors who have a militaristic society. Ofresians are best fit as rogues and scholars. Ofresians are most known for their quickness and guile rather for there brute strength. Lastly, an Antan is a mix of Amarian and Baltan in general lifestyle. They are powerful warriors, but adopt a more civilized and generally, more cultured society.

The Second race are Elves, and come in two variants. The West Elves are generally magic users, hailing from the Sitik Isles. They are average sized are not trusted among men. Elves and Men had long been estranged and Men are not largely familiar to magic. The East Elves are generally more ashen-skinned. They are much more hardy and sturdy than a West Elf, and have a general distaste for them. Any native East Elf can smell a West Elf a mile away, and, most often, not be the best of friends with each other.

Lastly are the dwarves. They placed their fortunes in the bowels of the earth, and sprawled under all continents. Under the land of Men was once home to a lot empire of Dwarves, but they now live much farther away. Dwarves either live cities underground, or small, village-like steds of Dwormire. These dwarves have general differences, but the surfacer dwarves general have ancestors to criminals who were banished from the subterranean cities of the other Dwarves, but, other than that, they hold no difference.

Applying: Spaces are filled first come, first served. There can only be 5, and if any one of the party members dies during the progression of the story, a spot can be open. Now, when someone dies, they are dead. The user to free to make a new character and I shall implement him, or someone else can snap up the open space.

Characters must also be one of the three races, but, other than that, they can be whatever they want. A spell-slinging dwarf? You bet. A bulky West Elf? Go ahead. But, however, keep in mind that your characters, at face value, are not unique. You are not a king, you are not a knight, you are a band of adventurers who have above average skills in your respective area. You'rer smarter, wiser, stronger, more dextrous, and more healthy than a normal person, but that does not mean you are a warrior at the pinnacle of mastery. Please, keep your characters adepts, at best. Imagine you are making a new character for Morrowind or Oblivion, you are not a master, but generally better skilled than others.

Rules: Standard RP rules apply. Also, keep in mind, I'm the one guiding the story. For example, you may open a chest, but you will not say that you found the Boots of Kick Everything. Nor did you just talk to a character who divulged to you the location of the Big Bad, gave you all of his money, and is now following you.

And other than that, application is open!

1. Seldanar Koro-Silko (King Acunasti)
2. Laechlen (Spiney)
3. Pegrhen Asden (PerPenger)
4. Therandir Valmoran (Leyyuce)
5. Barsin Ayola (Amusei)

Okay, I'll join. I give you permission to punch me in the face if I did something wrong.

Name: Seldanar Koro-Silko
Race: West Elf (southern Sitik Isles)
Appearance: Seldanar is a fair-skinned West Elf. He hails from a tribal community on a small southern island in the Sitik Isles. He wears a long sleeveless green robe that exposes the sides of his muscular and lithe torso. Along with this, he wears a pair of deerskin moccasins and trousers with a tribal wristband made of pure gold. Seldanar has long, dark brown hair and large brown eyes. He has very gaunt facial features with noticeably high and pronounced cheekbones, a sharp jaw line, and a perfectly straight nose. He’s somewhat good-looking, but by no means stunning.
Personality/Background info: Seldanar is your typical “magic-loving” West Elf from the Sitik Isles. He is somewhat muscular, lean, and hardly taller than an average human. But his tribal lifestyle differentiates him from other West Elves. He is very spiritual and respectful of nature. He spends most of his days in a meditative position, intending to expand his knowledge and skills in the arts of magic. Sometimes, Seldanar is known to be a very honorable and courteous individual. Yet at other times, he is known to be very clever and sneaky, willing to take from others for his own benefit.
Reason for being in Ofrey: Seldanar is nomadic. He is making a pilgrimage across the mainland in order to expand his knowledge and see other places outside of the Sitik Isles. He has recently arrived in Ofrey.

I'm afraid I forgot to mention something, you'll have to add why your character is in Ofrey. For some thought, the Dwarves and Elves are just about across the continent from Ofrey, Antans are far to the North, Amarians are to the North-East, and south of the Amarians are the Baltans, who are east of Ofrey.

Edit'd.

While I haven't RP'ed in ages, I feel like giving my old RPing boots another whirl.

(You didn't really give much railing to making a character, so I'm going from my own whim)

Name: Laechlen
Race: Dwarf (Banished Ancestry)
Appearance: Like any Dwarf, he is short, stout, and lacking forehead hair. Though he has plenty of hair elsewhere, sporting a long braided beard that reaches to his knees. He face is wide and toned, but always holds his devilish grin. He is also well built for his size, easily stronger than any Men he knows.
Personality/Background: Laechlen is your typical armour-clad warrior dwarf, with the attitude to suit. Witty, short mannered, rash, he is one to leap into a battle and worry about the consequences (and the wounds) later. The only odd aspect of his is his strange affinity for his hammer. A wooden shafted, stone headed hammer with a small carving on the striking end. he says it's the reason why he is still alive. His witty humour also leads him to make many corny one-liners in battle.
Reason for being in Ofrey: Laechlen's hammer unfortunately acquired a bad chip in it, and he was told there was a stone mason in Ofrey who could fix it. He managed to find the Mason, and after getting his hammer fixed, proceeded to drunk at the nearest tavern.

Name: Pegrhen Asden
Race: Dwarf
Appearance: Completely bald and clean shaven. He has a very flat face, and a long neck. He is unnaturally slim for a dwarf. He wears a green robe with some basic leather armor on the outsides. He handy leather boots, which is useful for most terrains.
Personality/Background: He born in a village undergroud, but always felt out of place. When he was told stories of the great world outsides, he ran away at a very young age. He spent most of his life travelling the forest. He is a very adept hunter, and loves the nature. His weapon of choice is bow and arrows, but he fights with a shortsword in close range. Spending most of his life alone, he is socially awkward, and often does not know what to say or do when talking to normal people.
Reason fo being in Ofrey: He is there to buy food and supplies, his hunting has given him little to eat lately.

Could you expand on the reason?

Umm... What more is there to say? That's his reason.

Name: Barsin Ayola
Race: Ofresian
Appearance: Barsin is thirty years old, he has a thin, toned build and dark brown hair. Has grey eyes and long, bony face. Has a slightly large, hook nose, it is the first thing you will notice about him. He wears reinforced leather armor that is dyed grey, doesn't wear a helm though.
Personality/Background info: Barsin used to be a bandit, his fellow bandit's consisted of his brothers, sister, cousins and his uncle Leoth. Untill one day, Barsin's uncle was foolish at times, and never thought anything through, but he was their leader, so the rest of the kin usually followed him. A very rich and well known merchant was travling through a route right near their camp, Leoth had his sources and knew that he was taking this route before he even set off, so the bandits set up an ambush, little did they know that the caravan had many, powerful soldiers guarding it, everyone of Barsin's kin were murdered right on the spot. Barsin survived and was thrown in jail, for four years, and upon every year the corrupt guards that were working at the prison would torture him, and everyone else who was kept in those cells, every year the cut off one of his fingers, to remind him never to try and take what was not his, he was in their for four years, until he escaped. He lost his pinky and pointer fingers on both hands unfortunately. After he escaped, he settled down from his criminal career, yet always fighting urges to steal from others. He still was a very skilled, fast, dodgy fighter though. Adept with close combat, he prefers a hatchet and a buckler on him for battle. He is also a great sneak,Not to good of a lockpick anymore, due to losing his other fingers. He is rather smart, and prefers to be with others, yet is always trying to resist on committing crimes, hates guards and the law, and is more of a follower than a leader.
Reason for being in Ofrey: Resides in Ofrey, and lives off of performing odd jobs for the other residents of the city. Barsin heads to the local tavern every night to try and forget what he was been reduced to.


Is that any good?

Well, the issue is that, why is he even near Ofrey? I don't know if I specified this, but Ofrey and the Dwarves are more than half across the same continent. Why is he in the land of Men? Why is he away from the Dwarves?

Well, wrote that he has travelled the wilderness alone for all of his life, with no particular destination. Ofrey happened to be the closest city when he was running low on food, so it was a natural stop.

Name: Therandir Valmoran
Race: Antan
Appearance: Therandir had bright green eyes and pale skin; his lips are thin, his ears flat, and his eyebrows arched. His features appear firm, with large dimples and a short chin accenting his mouth.Therandir's black hair is pushed to either side of his face and cut below his shoulders. He usually remains clean-shaven.

Equipment/clothing: Therandir wears steel greaves and breastplate over a chainmail shirt and leggings; in order to retain fair dexterity, he wears chainmail gauntlets as well. For footwear, he wears hardened leather boots with thick, tough soles. He uses a heavy, double-edged broadsword in combat.

Personality/Background info: Therandir is disciplined and strong-willed; he prefers to adhere to his own views of right and wrong rather than follow society's standards. It should be said, however, that he is generally well-mannered, respectful, and good-natured. Therandir keeps an open mind as to other's ideas and customs, and enjoys conversation/debate.

Reason for being in Ofrey: Therandir previously acted as sort of adventuring mercenary; having recently terminated dealings with a partner of several years, he arranged to meet with a potential employer in Ofrey. The two could not come an agreement, and Therandir stormed to the inn in anger and disappointment.

Neat, we have a full roster. I'll put up the starter post in an hour or so.

The Oak and Pine Tavern was a rather old tavern in Ofrey. It sat along a wind, looping, cobbled road, one of the many roads of Ofrey. The streets were laden about with bright and dazzling colors, with banners or yellow, red, purple, greens, and blues. Crests were hung upon doors and a strange flowery fragrance wafted through the more higher class neighborhoods. The Oak and Pine stood where it had been for centuries, the people said.

The tavern lay jammed between between two buildings as old as it. And those buildings jammed between others. There were hardly any alley-ways in Ofrey, and every side to a building was the wall of another. Many ceilings were also the floor of others. The walls of the buildings were a fainted yellow, and the wood was a dark brown color.

The Oak and Pine was in a high hour. It was jammed with drunken and delightful Ofresians singing and telling old stories. The Ofresians had a slight exotic accent. A change from their Baltan and Amarian neighbors. The city, and the outlying areas, were largely homogenous. Though, the Ofresians were not necessarily xenophobic.

The patrons blotted out the sunlight pouring in from the windows of the tavern, and it was largely illumined by candle, lantern, and fire-light. Despite the amount of glee and mirth in the tavern, some people still bowed their heads conspiratorially.

The proprietor of the tavern was one of Samwise Laisei, though, hardly anyone called him that or even knew his name. Everyone just called him barkeep instead. Samwise was a tall, fat man. His pouched cheeks were red and he had a tuft of hair on his head. He fretted back and forth between the tap and the counter to fill up the peoples' drinks. He was always mess, and if it wasn't for his bar-maids, he'd be trampled by his patrons everyday. He inherited the tavern from his father, and that from his father's father, and he often joked that the tavern was older than the Amarian empire itself.

A man sat in the shadows. He intentionally doused his candle and had a dark, green hood drawn. He smoked from a long and ornately carved pipe and peered into the crowd non-conspicuously. A few of the patrons glanced his way and quickly darted back, feeling as if they stared into the void and back, though, the mead and ale quickly washed away that feeling.

"And, I say," shouted one man in a brown vest, "There's no queerer sight than Her Royal Grace herself prowling along the town square without her guard!"
"And I say, you sallow blighted fool," replied a darker haired man, "That you're an idiot. Her Royal Majesty would never see herself outside of the castle walls!"
Another voice, indiscernible in the crowd, "That sow-" the voice was quickly cut-off with a painful, punch in the speaker's face. If the Ofresians took one thing seriously, is was their Queen, Leanne, and if anybody spoke an ill-word about her, they'd most certainly take offense.

One hit lead to a confusion and a whole brawl broke out in the Oak and Pine. Ale and mead splashed and glasses broke. Mugs were banged on heads tables collapsed. The writhing mass of patrons clamored among each other, but yet, the strange man in the corner was still there, smoking on his pipe. His eyes shifted between five men. He somehow could make them out in the crowd. The dwarves, elf, Antan, and Ofresian were being scrutinized by him, and he had a hand rested on a blade at his side.

Laechlen was enthralled by the sight of a fight, and hobbled into the crowd to join in on the fun.

"That's not how ye fight!" He roared, hammer in hand. "Why I outta apprentice all of ye!"

Still, Laechlen was only at waist height to most of the crowd, and took a arse full Baltan as one was pushed pack onto him. He laid there flailing his arms, a heavy Baltan pinning him down by the face.

"Mrghghghemmm!"

"A sodding dwarf?" The bulky Baltan exclaimed. "You're shorter than me grand-" The Baltan was crushed under the weight of 5 other men who were knocked back by a table, giving enough room for Laechlan to dart out.

Laechlan took the opportunity and crawled out of the reach of the Baltan, looking back to exclaim:

"Well ye rear is smellier than my ma's pig farm."

He got up after that, and walked his way out of the brawl, pushing one other man out of the way. He hobbled to a far wall, leaning against it and sighing.

"Eh, these fights aren't me type."

The hooded man stalked his way around the crowd and appeared at the dwarf's side. "Two dwarves this far from Dwormire are a rare occurrence." He spoke without placing his eyes on the dwarf. "And an elf from the Sitik Isles, as well. In this tavern." The man peered at the dwarf, his eyes were a piercing blue, and his look was as sharp as a dagger, "Would you call that luck, or rather, fate?"

Laechlan smirked. "You're asking this dwarf for philosophy? Heh heh. I'm only here to get this here hammer of mine fixed. Would that be fate to ye?"

The man pulled down his hood even further.

The brawl wagged on with a dying intensity. The barkeep was worriedly twiddling his fingers in the corner as the bar-maids strayed to the side of the rooms and walked out.

The hooded-man began to speak, "You had to travel all the way to Ofrey to mend a hammer? Out of all places? You could've went to the smithies of your own Dwor-mire, above or below, or perhaps even in the Baltans, or Amar, but, why Ofrey, who holds no fame in smithing."

"Aye, by ye have a Stone Mason here, and me Hammer is of stone." He waggled it about his face. "Not of iron or bronze like my Dwarven brethren use. Besides, I'm banished. I can't go back there."

"To make this straight, dwarf, you traveled all the way from Dwor-Mire, along the Dead Fringes, through a desert, the Baltans, and a good deal of the Green simply for a stone mason in Ofrey? I've been to Dwor-mire," the man settled further along the wall, "and by simply walking down the street- even among the banished caste -I saw a multitude of smiths and masons. I'm sure one of them could mend a hammer. I understand the many types of stone, how some are tougher and more reliable, but Ofrey knows none of these stones, you'd have more luck in anywhere in Balta except Ofrey. But," the man sighed, "I digress."

The man held out a coin, "Take this for your trouble then, dwarf." The coin was silver and seemed aged. "Hold on to the coin." The man disappeared into the crowd.

Laechlan blinked, the man was gone before he knew it. Though, he glanced at the coin, then slipped it into his beard. "Odd fellow. Still, tips nicely."

He hobbled over to a vacant table, and took someone's half drunken mead tankard. Clambering onto a seat, he sipped and watched the scuffle.

"And they call this civilisation?" Pegrhen sighed to himself, while trying to get out of the tavern. "Goddamm humans..." His size let him easily dodge the brawling crowd, but also hindered him from escaping the fight.