Weyr
06-08-2004, 22:20
OOC: Right, to take care of things before we get started. I hope that this won't be like those other two RPs that went nowhere because I really was not thinking things through...
Tech level: magitek/quasimodern [nothing past 2030 tech, if possible]
Type: civil war / story
Status: Open
The prologue is a basic set up, but you can skip it if you want. More info on Weyr can be found here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=343169)
Basic info
Weyreans are the peoples of Weyr. Duh. Light-skinned, somewhat pointy-eared, with 300+ year life spans. They make up approximately 69% of the total Weyrean population. The rest is made up of humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, sprites, pictsies, hive, clangers, and everything else.
The sect of Krim is the largest religious following in Weyr, and is the only one of any real note. The sect is based in Southport, and is subdivided into smaller enclaves, although most follow the spoken and written word of Lian Kerro, Patriarch of the Temple of Krim.
Other than that, go forth and do stuff . . .
---------------
Prologue
In the year 1AL, Josiah Willard Leigh developed and published the first true method of employing ambient thaumaturgic networks [March2004].
The ensuing technological breakthroughs revolutionized Weyr, but also left many discontent or alienated in the wake of rapid progress. Chief of these were the followers of Krim, and the followers of the Christian God, who viewed the proliferation of magick as blasphemy and corruption of God's works. Central in their resentment were the Alchemists, who grew increasingly more powerful over the years and had begun to play an ever-greater role in Weyr's affairs.
Slowly at first, but rapidly gaining momentum, a movement began to form amongst both the Christian peoples of Weyr, and the followers of Krim, a movement that would do away with magick and the High Council, and instead put a strong Holy King at the helm of Weyr. Chief among these was Lian Kerro, who rapidly ascended to power, and now shapes the followers of krim to reflect his own ambitions.
Violence sparked by the followers of Krim quicly came to a head in Southport. The local Council, unable to stop the violence, which claimed thousands by the end of a year, requested that the High Guard intervene.
In the west, steamers began penetrating deep into the Great Desert, tapping into the resources of the wastelands and bringing in an influx of outsiders. Discontent spread amongst the desert clans, some of who sided with the Weyreans, and some of whom chose to oppose them.
Thus it was, that a festering core was formed all those years ago, and was now beginning to spread to the heart of the Kingdom.
--------------
Act1
4 Sun's Height
<Southport; Seedbury Ave; Southern Military District>
A low whistle was the only warning they had, before the two vacant apartment complexes were turned to rubble. Six dozen shells slammed into the old buildings, making them disappear in a pile of smoke and dust, if not flame. There was litte to burn -- the fighting had ensured that the locals would not be there to bother ether the Krimuk Fighters or the High Gard trying to blast them into oblivion.
"'Thank Krim we've got the warning," Roche gasped, turnign the corner and slumping against the hot masonry, letting his body sink to the sidewalk. His sweaty face glistened even in the shade of the apartments.
"Yeah," Milo nodded. She too leaned against the building, but remained standing.
Some would have called them cowards for not staying at their post, but neither of the two youths had any intention of being whacked by a stray stone. Besides, the High Guard was known to miss, rare as that was. So now they paused to catch their breath two-dozen meters away from the remains of the old Krimuk Fighters headquarters, in a dim alleyway.
"Hear that?" Milo asked suddenly, cocking her head.
"No, what," Roche asked, still breathing heavily.
"That, the music," Milo replied, lowering her voice. Roche heard it too now, a saxophone playing something that was somehow both upbeat and sad, all at the same time.
"Let's check it out," Milo suggested. The more conservative Christians claimed that women were weaker than men, and derived the Krimuk for treating them as equals. In this case, Roche decided, following Milo as she slowly crept to the building's door, that was a goodly bit of lies.
********************
<Southport; 24-12, Seedbury Ave>
Graham li'Resch was not particularly surprised at the knocking, when he heard it over the music. It wasn't as though he had a bell to ring, not even a 'net crystal, and visitors were always welcome. Besides, with the demolition of the two buildings at the corner, these just might be a few lost souls seeking a new home. Graham chuckled at his own humour as he ambled to his apartment door and slid back the two bolts securing it. Lost souls indeed.
********************
7 Sun's Height
<Southport; 24-12, Seedbury Ave>
Idiots, that's what they were. Idiots, for listening to tank crews who were spooked because of a dumb ambush. For not the first time, and certainly not for the last, Sargent Fernando Cruz thought this as he led his troops down the shady alleyway, towards the door to an apartment building that was certainly empty.
Their artillery had taken out the Krimuk Fighters headquarters in the area, although from the remains the place had probably been abandoned for months. Still, someone higher up decided that a scoop by general infantry was a good idea before the heavier shock companies moved in.
First squad, go, Cruz signaled with his hand. Second squad, go, he signalled again. Then he led his own squad of eight into the dark building lobby.
********************
<Southport; 24-12, Seedbury Ave>
The thing lying on the operating table was not human. Only the general shape resembled anything to the human form.
Lieutenant Lorn of the Southport City Watch Forensics squad managed to hold back the contents of his stomach, barely. When he got outside, he found the department's seer cradling a bottle of hard vodka as she sat on the ground, head pressed against the warm masonry.
"Looks like a pattern," Lorn said finally. His eyes followed a Mark III tank as it sped down Seedbury Avenue. The Eighteenth GI Company would be questioned, of course, and paperwork would be drawn up, but neither of the two City Watch officers truly believed that they would catch the murderer.
"I'll forward it to The Tower, just in case," Amanda Ross said, after taking a long pull from the bottle. They said that alcohol numbed a person's awareness to the thaumaturgic lines and etheric energies. Ross hoped they were right.
"How's the sargent?"
"Says it's the worst thing he's ever seen. Coming from a sixteen-patcher, that's something." Lorn responded. Sixteen patches -- sixteen years in Southport.
"I bet," Amanda's speech was already slurring. Perhaps that was good. Seers could sense the residual pain around murder scenes; even identify a criminal from the sheer aura of death that clung to him or her. In this case, Lord didn't think he wanted to try sensing something like that.
OOC: more to come
Tech level: magitek/quasimodern [nothing past 2030 tech, if possible]
Type: civil war / story
Status: Open
The prologue is a basic set up, but you can skip it if you want. More info on Weyr can be found here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=343169)
Basic info
Weyreans are the peoples of Weyr. Duh. Light-skinned, somewhat pointy-eared, with 300+ year life spans. They make up approximately 69% of the total Weyrean population. The rest is made up of humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, sprites, pictsies, hive, clangers, and everything else.
The sect of Krim is the largest religious following in Weyr, and is the only one of any real note. The sect is based in Southport, and is subdivided into smaller enclaves, although most follow the spoken and written word of Lian Kerro, Patriarch of the Temple of Krim.
Other than that, go forth and do stuff . . .
---------------
Prologue
In the year 1AL, Josiah Willard Leigh developed and published the first true method of employing ambient thaumaturgic networks [March2004].
The ensuing technological breakthroughs revolutionized Weyr, but also left many discontent or alienated in the wake of rapid progress. Chief of these were the followers of Krim, and the followers of the Christian God, who viewed the proliferation of magick as blasphemy and corruption of God's works. Central in their resentment were the Alchemists, who grew increasingly more powerful over the years and had begun to play an ever-greater role in Weyr's affairs.
Slowly at first, but rapidly gaining momentum, a movement began to form amongst both the Christian peoples of Weyr, and the followers of Krim, a movement that would do away with magick and the High Council, and instead put a strong Holy King at the helm of Weyr. Chief among these was Lian Kerro, who rapidly ascended to power, and now shapes the followers of krim to reflect his own ambitions.
Violence sparked by the followers of Krim quicly came to a head in Southport. The local Council, unable to stop the violence, which claimed thousands by the end of a year, requested that the High Guard intervene.
In the west, steamers began penetrating deep into the Great Desert, tapping into the resources of the wastelands and bringing in an influx of outsiders. Discontent spread amongst the desert clans, some of who sided with the Weyreans, and some of whom chose to oppose them.
Thus it was, that a festering core was formed all those years ago, and was now beginning to spread to the heart of the Kingdom.
--------------
Act1
4 Sun's Height
<Southport; Seedbury Ave; Southern Military District>
A low whistle was the only warning they had, before the two vacant apartment complexes were turned to rubble. Six dozen shells slammed into the old buildings, making them disappear in a pile of smoke and dust, if not flame. There was litte to burn -- the fighting had ensured that the locals would not be there to bother ether the Krimuk Fighters or the High Gard trying to blast them into oblivion.
"'Thank Krim we've got the warning," Roche gasped, turnign the corner and slumping against the hot masonry, letting his body sink to the sidewalk. His sweaty face glistened even in the shade of the apartments.
"Yeah," Milo nodded. She too leaned against the building, but remained standing.
Some would have called them cowards for not staying at their post, but neither of the two youths had any intention of being whacked by a stray stone. Besides, the High Guard was known to miss, rare as that was. So now they paused to catch their breath two-dozen meters away from the remains of the old Krimuk Fighters headquarters, in a dim alleyway.
"Hear that?" Milo asked suddenly, cocking her head.
"No, what," Roche asked, still breathing heavily.
"That, the music," Milo replied, lowering her voice. Roche heard it too now, a saxophone playing something that was somehow both upbeat and sad, all at the same time.
"Let's check it out," Milo suggested. The more conservative Christians claimed that women were weaker than men, and derived the Krimuk for treating them as equals. In this case, Roche decided, following Milo as she slowly crept to the building's door, that was a goodly bit of lies.
********************
<Southport; 24-12, Seedbury Ave>
Graham li'Resch was not particularly surprised at the knocking, when he heard it over the music. It wasn't as though he had a bell to ring, not even a 'net crystal, and visitors were always welcome. Besides, with the demolition of the two buildings at the corner, these just might be a few lost souls seeking a new home. Graham chuckled at his own humour as he ambled to his apartment door and slid back the two bolts securing it. Lost souls indeed.
********************
7 Sun's Height
<Southport; 24-12, Seedbury Ave>
Idiots, that's what they were. Idiots, for listening to tank crews who were spooked because of a dumb ambush. For not the first time, and certainly not for the last, Sargent Fernando Cruz thought this as he led his troops down the shady alleyway, towards the door to an apartment building that was certainly empty.
Their artillery had taken out the Krimuk Fighters headquarters in the area, although from the remains the place had probably been abandoned for months. Still, someone higher up decided that a scoop by general infantry was a good idea before the heavier shock companies moved in.
First squad, go, Cruz signaled with his hand. Second squad, go, he signalled again. Then he led his own squad of eight into the dark building lobby.
********************
<Southport; 24-12, Seedbury Ave>
The thing lying on the operating table was not human. Only the general shape resembled anything to the human form.
Lieutenant Lorn of the Southport City Watch Forensics squad managed to hold back the contents of his stomach, barely. When he got outside, he found the department's seer cradling a bottle of hard vodka as she sat on the ground, head pressed against the warm masonry.
"Looks like a pattern," Lorn said finally. His eyes followed a Mark III tank as it sped down Seedbury Avenue. The Eighteenth GI Company would be questioned, of course, and paperwork would be drawn up, but neither of the two City Watch officers truly believed that they would catch the murderer.
"I'll forward it to The Tower, just in case," Amanda Ross said, after taking a long pull from the bottle. They said that alcohol numbed a person's awareness to the thaumaturgic lines and etheric energies. Ross hoped they were right.
"How's the sargent?"
"Says it's the worst thing he's ever seen. Coming from a sixteen-patcher, that's something." Lorn responded. Sixteen patches -- sixteen years in Southport.
"I bet," Amanda's speech was already slurring. Perhaps that was good. Seers could sense the residual pain around murder scenes; even identify a criminal from the sheer aura of death that clung to him or her. In this case, Lord didn't think he wanted to try sensing something like that.
OOC: more to come