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Ilfay RP(Pro
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Ilfay RP(Pro
Ilfay RP
(Pronounced ILL-fay)
Long ago, the continent of Ilfay was colonized by a few colonists, who had been shipwrecked upon the island. The island was virtually paradise, except for the wastelands on the right side of the mountains.
The continent had a ridge of mountains running through it, with only two places to cross over without having to travel over the mountains, one at either end of the island. The larger of the two passes was a desert, which few ever returned from.
However the smaller pass led to ground which was amazingly fertile, and grew anything there. The colonists had been setting forth to colonize a nearby chain of islands, but they had been blow off course and only half of the group survived.
The Captain and his men perished, as they toiled to save the families lives. They famalies, not lacking common sense, made a list of who had survived. However, the paper was lost long ago, and many were most likely forgotten as their tale was passed on from generation to generation.
The richer families quickly settled in the richer areas, cultivating the livestock they had brought with them. But before I continue, I'd best describe the nature of the country on the left side of the mountains. You know what it's like? Fine then, tell me.
Yes, the higher country is covered in trees. There were more trees back then, you know. The lowerlands are covered in mud? I say they are covered in clay. Don't just repeat the things your parents say about them. They are a powerful country in their own right.
Yes, I do belive we live in the richest land. Right smackdab in-between those who cut down wood, and those who make clay into bricks. Well, we are the decendants of the richer famlies. Now don't interupt, and let me finish.
Now the richer famlies settled in the richer land, cultivating livestock. The other famlies dispersed, a couple settling amoung the richer folk, much to their displeasure. The families chose where they would live according to their abilities.
But where beauty and prosperity bloom, the weeds of deformity and poverty soon follow. A few of their children were found to have magic, so they were cast out into the wilderness of the mountains.
But the children survived, using magic. They were outcasts, and did everything they good to destroy the colonists. But all had to be done in secret, and only small things, such as inciting unrest, greed, and jelousy.
There wern't many of them, but they survived for generations. And to this day, they lurk about in today's society. The unrest which they sowed in our spirits led to a monarchy. Several, actually.
There are are now five countries, Ilsveth the country of wood, Ilara our beautiful country of pastures and livestock, Ilper the country of clay, Ilmeri the country of stone, and Ilwer the country of the golden crop.
So is that why there is so much political unrest now? Quite right. Quite right. In fact we must pray that you are not in danger, your highness ... (ILL-s-veth, ILL-ara, ILL-per, ill-MEER-ee, and ILL-weer)
So! Did ya like that^? I hope so. I spent an hour on it. So as the teacher mentioned, there is political unrest in Ilfay. Ilara and Ilwer are at war, and Ilper recently agreed to an alliance. Assasins and spies are being sent out into all the kingdoms to ensure an alliance with certain kingdoms, and to destroy certain people in high positions.
Anyhoo, here's the charrie sheet:
Name:
Age:
Position:
Kingdom:
Appearance:
Personality:
Any magic?:
Backstory: (If applyable)
Other:
~~~~~
Name: Rhea Iypera (EE-A-peer-a)
Age: 16
Position: Assasin and spy, when need be.
Kingdom: Ilara
Appearance: She has long wavy black hair, is fairly tall and skinny with palish skin. She wears the typical servant's garb of Ilwer, as she is currently posing as a servant in court.
Personality: Very firey, sarcastic, and very prone to anger, unfortunetly. She is in fear that her anger might one day cost her her position in either/both court(s)
Any magic?: No
Backstory: N/A, as she grew up a regular life.
submitted by Cho Chang
(July 8, 2016 - 10:55 am)
(July 8, 2016 - 10:55 am)
YESSSS!! I love Catan and Risk and Splendor and Stratego and 7 Wonders and all the rest. Hey Cho- could you possibly make a map of this country using the Catan tiles??? That would be amazing!
(July 11, 2016 - 7:42 pm)
I'm sorry, but can I drop out? XD
(July 9, 2016 - 10:06 am)
You may, but might I inquire what is so hilarious?
(July 9, 2016 - 1:47 pm)
Attention: Kir's age will be 17 instead of 15. I kind of want her to have some kind of crush on Frostbone, OK? Don't judge me.
(July 9, 2016 - 1:23 pm)
Is there any royalty? I'll change my charrie if there isn't.
Name: Anisa
Age: 10
Kingdom: Ilwer
Position: Princess of Ilwer, youngest daughter of the king and queen
Appearance: Hair so golden that people compare it with the sun, rosy cheeks, ocean blue eyes, tall and skinny.
Personality: Very, very nice and kind to everyone. Animals love her and she loves animals. She loves to dance and is very flexible. Very loyal to her family, and was taught that people with magic were a danger to her family, she hates them.
Magic?: No
Backstory: She has two older sisters, Karianna and Alissa. And a cat named Marigold.
(July 9, 2016 - 5:11 pm)
Yes, there is. Your charrie is fine. (Actually, I was hoping for one or two people to be of high status!)
(July 10, 2016 - 7:26 am)
Is it okay if I make another character? I've never tried a boy charie before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Name: Sten Mantir
Age: 19
Position: stone worker in Craldust Mine.
Kingdom: Ilmeri
Appearance: rough brown hair, noble profile, always covered in stone dust from the mines.
Personality: kind, surprisingly calm and collected for a mine worker, but has a sad atmosphere around him.
Any magic? No
Backstory: he grew up in Ilmari, but his dad always told him strange tales about life in another kingdom. A life where you didn't have to work all day in the choking dust and dirt of a mine, a life where your hands weren't rough with blisters and whip marks. He became an orphan at 12, when his father died with haunting last words. "Dont give up, son. No matter what you do, always remember your heritage. Don't give... noble...." He never knew his mother.
(July 10, 2016 - 12:26 pm)
I have a question. Are all out charries going to meet in the story?
(July 10, 2016 - 3:33 pm)
May we start?
Cyclone says wyxo. You love Wyoming? So do l.
(July 10, 2016 - 5:23 pm)
Actually, I have a change to my charrie. Alissa is her younger sister, age 6.
(July 10, 2016 - 6:09 pm)
Yes, Shadow, we may start. By the way, who is Ilper allied with?
~Finnola~
"Yer Majesty?"
By custom, whenever the Queen of Thieves comes on a raid personally, she gets to take the first shot. I smile, load a crossbow quarrel, and peer down the hill at our target: a caravan of wagons loaded heavy with sheaves of wheat, bound for Ryeborough on the border with Ilara from the farms in the country. Only two guards on horseback that I can see. With my force of six seasoned thugs, including Evam, my right-hand man, this will be a walk in the park.
Ready. Aim. Fire.
My black-feathered quarrel takes the leading guard in the side of his chest, a shot that should have toppled him off his horse if not killed him outright...but it ricochets, as if I had shot at a cliff face instead of a hired warrior. No time to think about it now, though; my men are already charging down the hill, broadswords and scimitars drawn, crying "The Black Fox!" and "For the Rogue!" and I can do nothing but follow suit.
The caravan dissolves into chaos. "Don't kill the oxen!" I holler as I close with the front guard. Before I can get too close, though, his horse rears, heavy front hooves kicking wildly, and I back off. No use getting my head bashed in. I draw my crossbow, arm another quarrel, aim carefully, and shoot again. This time the quarrel buries itself in the guard's throat, and he goes down.
The rest of the battle is short and sweet. Several minutes later, the four wagon drivers and two guards lie dead in the dust. Talmun got a pretty nasty dagger scratch in his thigh, and Carver has a fresh lump on the head because Fodd was an idiot and hit him with his broadsword pommel on a wild backswing, but other than that there are no casualties. I was forced to kill the front guard's horse with another couple crossbow shots because it kicked whenever I got too near. Sad, that. We took the other horse alive, but this one looked a much better breed: an enormous bay stallion, beautiful even in death.
My men start driving the oxen pulling the four grain wagons uphill away from the road, but I hang back for a moment, gesturing for Evam to join me. Something about this whole situation doesn't add up. There was my first shot, that bounced off the guard like that...the horse, absurdly good at fighting...
"Uh, Yer Majesty, I think ye should see this."
I look where Evam's pointing, at the body of the front guard. I notice for the first time that his boots are leather, steel-toed, too finely made for just any country bumpkin who can shoot a bow, which is what most of these hireling guards are. I help Evam turn the corpse over, revealing a longsword on his belt. Still in its sheath, the hilt leather-wrapped and the pommel in the shape of a wolf's head.
Nobody carries longswords in Ilwer. Nobody. It's against the law. Against the law...for anyone except the newly-minted Army and the King's Own Guard.
Whatever this was, it was more than just a simple grain transport.
Evam's strong, scarred hands rip open the dead man's tunic, revealing a steel cuirass underneath, which must have been what turned my quarrel earlier. The pieces start falling into place: His sword had a wolf motif, the symbol of the Ilwer Grand Army; he was a military officer, whatever that may mean. That also explains the horse, which must have been a specially-trained warhorse to kick like that. The question is, why would a plainclothes Army man be protecting four wagons of wheat, just like any other four wagons of wheat in the kingdom as far as I can tell?
The answer hits me in a blaze of inspiration. "It was a decoy!" I exclaim aloud. "He was pretending to be just another half-baked mercenary in order to make it seem like the wheat was the important part, when really the important part was...Evam, help me check the horse!"
It takes some heavy lifting, but we get the horse's saddlebags free of its body. Rummaging through them turns up a half-full waterskin, some rations, flint and striker, a hoof pick for the horse, a purse with a few gold coins (which I pocket), a coil of rope, a set of dice, and-
"'Ere now, what's this?" Evam has found a scroll of parchment, sealed with spring green wax into which is stuck a tiny tuft of black hair. Carefully I break the seal, unroll the scroll, and read:
The Army is set to attack Monday next. They've a muster going in Ryeborough Valley: ten thousand troops give or take, under five generals. Three of them are greenhorns, but General Camaras is a veteran of the Battle of Thundertree, and General Stonestrom is fresh from the border skirmishes with the Court of the Rogue. Don't worry about my new messenger Ellingson; he's a defector, and I trust him somewhat, but if he doesn't give the password...well, that's the worse for the Ilwerese spy trying to take his place, isn't it? For the glory of Ilara! ~RI
(July 11, 2016 - 12:28 am)
Hi guys...it's hard to write from Azkaban....It's horrible here...
~Hecate
I pull my hunting jacket on and head into town. If I'm lucky, I can steal a bit of bread. The Deer are skittish this year, driven away by the noise of crunching leaves, so I have to steal to get my food to live. Here's Ilara...and here's the bread merchant....I slip up behind him and reach out for a slice.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
~~~
Anyone can be the person who said that. If nobody writes as them, I'll probably make it a Guard or something. :)
(July 11, 2016 - 8:58 am)
@Starbringer, yes.
@Alexandra, sure. Our charries may not actually meet, but will be part of this gigantic piece of awesome turmoil.
@Curio, Ilper is currently allied with Ilara. Both Ilara and Ilwer are desperatly seeking an alliance with Ilsveth.
I'm changing Rhea's name to Irina.
~|Irina|~
I hate posising as a low-born servant. Especially as royal (or close to it) blood runs through my veins. I am the youngest daughter out of seven children, and my father was the youngest out of six children, so I was lucky enough to be virtually sold.
The king of Ilara, good King Ilaran was asking for children to be raised at his castle. My parents were good enough to have me come home on Festival days. King Ilaran was seeking for children to be raised as ... Spys. And Assasins, which I am primarily.
Right now this position is torture to me. Absolute agony. No, not because I've been found out. I'm much too good for that. No, it's because I have a month left to complete my assignment: assasinate King Iberon.
That will leave his eldest daughter, Karianna to rule, while in truth an Ilaran man should be her regent. Is he Ilaran? No wait, she is just to be manipulated by the false courtiers and advisors of Ilwer. The ones that are truly loyal to Ilara, that is.
And if Karianna dies? Well, there are two more princesses.
My mission is very vital to my country's wellbeing. Failing is not an option.
(July 11, 2016 - 2:41 pm)
(July 12, 2016 - 12:19 am)
@EVERYONE: Besides cats flocking to Kir as a result of her magic, she also has semi-prophetic visions that she mistakes for scizophrenia.
Kir~
I rearranged the bookshelf for the eighth time. Crypto, the yellow cat that often hung around me, batted at my hair with his black paws, slinking on and off my shoulders.
The library was a hollow tree; massive, over a thousand years old, with natural shelves inlaid. Fireflies floated around it like will o' the wisps.
Someone entered the library. I did not look up from my work, but whoever it was brought a pleasant sense of cold.
My hand stopped on a book; it was now painfully cold. I looked down to see frost inching across my hands.
Not real, I thought, it is not real.
I shut my eyes, praying that it would go away. Abruptly, the frost stops; it is merely gone. My scizophrenia was strangely prone to activating near people. Perhaps that is why I enjoy being solitary.
I force a smile and stroke my cat Mik, who, like the other cats, didn't notice anything.
I turn to face the visitor. He is looking intently at me; his gaze is alarming and disconcerting when met. He has silvery-blonde hair and grey-blue eyes.
"Can I help you?"
(July 12, 2016 - 9:08 am)