Yggdrasil_Hugger
07-08-2020, 02:58 PM
Many centuries ago, the world was full of magic. It filled the air, filling every living creature with the touch of the arcane. Colossal beasts walked the lands, dragons soared across the skies, and the waves belonged to titans of every shape and color. Even the most simple of children could master the art of magic, shaping the very weave of reality to their will. And the ones that had the most magic? They were known simply as the Ancients, for even to the elves they seemed a constant. It appeared they were going to outlive the sun and stars, perhaps even reality itself.
But they disappeared. Magic disappeared. The colossal beasts, the ocean titans, even the dragons were gone. Nobody can give an exact date, but that was nearly a millennia ago. The world slowly healed from this wound. It was the humans that figured out how to survive without the life-giving magic first. The humans, those short-lived, ambitious bunch. Many of the races wanted to simply slip away. Some did. But when Thomas Newcomen created the first steam engine, survival suddenly seemed a lot more attainable. His invention led to countless empires, each with their own inventors. Floating cities, giant mechanical robots, lighter-than-air airships, each powered by steam.
It has been that way for nearly two-hundred years. Progress is powered by steam. Empires run on the stuff. Nobody but the dwarves can remember a time without it. The elves may very well do, but nobody has seen an elf since the Ancients disappeared. Some believe they went with the Ancients, wherever they went. Others claim they have simply retreated to their forests to wait until the Ancients return. Even others say they were amongst the races to fade away, and even still some say they will return. Nobody can tell for sure, excepting the elves.
Until now. Seven days ago, a lone elf exited the Viridian Glade carrying a strange artifact. He gave the artifact to a traveler on their way to a holy site in Gandomere. All the while, his skin was turning inky-black and decrepit. When the artifact left his fingers, he gave a long sigh and perished. The traveler ran to go get help, but when the traveler returned, all that was left of the elf was a pile of dark ashes.
The traveler gave the artifact to the king of Gandomere and promptly cleansed themself at the holy site they had been traveling to. The king's royal scientists and historians had studied the artifact, a dodecahedron of an unknown material, and determined that the artifact was a relic of the Ancients. They opened the artifact in secret. Instantly, they were pushed through the weave of reality by the intense burst of arcane energy trapped inside. Hours later, a servant brought the opened artifact to the king, who tried to close it. But it was no use. The magic inside had already returned to the world.
It spread across the world, infusing life once more with the power of magic. But it wasn't enough. It barely was enough magic to cast minor spells, let alone bring the world back to its former arcane glory. So the king sent out messages across the lands. He was looking for adventurers, people brave enough to venture unto the world and recover those artifacts. Knights and Engineers who could locate these boxes, these wells of power, and open them. Release the magic inside, and return the world back into its Age of Arcane.
Okay, so that was a bit of a long read, but I hope it was worth it. I have an idea for a roleplay that I hope other people are interested in. A steampunk base, a dash of ancient prophecy, a sprinkling of gargantuan monsters, and stir in a bit of high fantasy mystery, reduce heat and serve!
There would be very few restrictions on the characters. The only two would be a maximum of two magic-users and no elves/half-elves for now. If I think of another or I need to make one, I'd notify anyone involved.
But they disappeared. Magic disappeared. The colossal beasts, the ocean titans, even the dragons were gone. Nobody can give an exact date, but that was nearly a millennia ago. The world slowly healed from this wound. It was the humans that figured out how to survive without the life-giving magic first. The humans, those short-lived, ambitious bunch. Many of the races wanted to simply slip away. Some did. But when Thomas Newcomen created the first steam engine, survival suddenly seemed a lot more attainable. His invention led to countless empires, each with their own inventors. Floating cities, giant mechanical robots, lighter-than-air airships, each powered by steam.
It has been that way for nearly two-hundred years. Progress is powered by steam. Empires run on the stuff. Nobody but the dwarves can remember a time without it. The elves may very well do, but nobody has seen an elf since the Ancients disappeared. Some believe they went with the Ancients, wherever they went. Others claim they have simply retreated to their forests to wait until the Ancients return. Even others say they were amongst the races to fade away, and even still some say they will return. Nobody can tell for sure, excepting the elves.
Until now. Seven days ago, a lone elf exited the Viridian Glade carrying a strange artifact. He gave the artifact to a traveler on their way to a holy site in Gandomere. All the while, his skin was turning inky-black and decrepit. When the artifact left his fingers, he gave a long sigh and perished. The traveler ran to go get help, but when the traveler returned, all that was left of the elf was a pile of dark ashes.
The traveler gave the artifact to the king of Gandomere and promptly cleansed themself at the holy site they had been traveling to. The king's royal scientists and historians had studied the artifact, a dodecahedron of an unknown material, and determined that the artifact was a relic of the Ancients. They opened the artifact in secret. Instantly, they were pushed through the weave of reality by the intense burst of arcane energy trapped inside. Hours later, a servant brought the opened artifact to the king, who tried to close it. But it was no use. The magic inside had already returned to the world.
It spread across the world, infusing life once more with the power of magic. But it wasn't enough. It barely was enough magic to cast minor spells, let alone bring the world back to its former arcane glory. So the king sent out messages across the lands. He was looking for adventurers, people brave enough to venture unto the world and recover those artifacts. Knights and Engineers who could locate these boxes, these wells of power, and open them. Release the magic inside, and return the world back into its Age of Arcane.
Okay, so that was a bit of a long read, but I hope it was worth it. I have an idea for a roleplay that I hope other people are interested in. A steampunk base, a dash of ancient prophecy, a sprinkling of gargantuan monsters, and stir in a bit of high fantasy mystery, reduce heat and serve!
There would be very few restrictions on the characters. The only two would be a maximum of two magic-users and no elves/half-elves for now. If I think of another or I need to make one, I'd notify anyone involved.