The Sword and Crown

Where the Rodera, Orcs, Goblins and Avians once called home

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Plot Bot
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The Sword and Crown

Postby Plot Bot » Tue Jul 16, 2013 3:09 pm

At the centre of the Zeppelin Stone, the fragment of the Colourful Isle that bore the Rodera home, stands a sword. Its blade is buried deep into the rock. Its hilt is an ornate bronze horned skull, and another in the pommel weight. This is the Blade of I'Meles, sword of the leader of the Rodera. Whoever can carry this sword can claim rulership of this land and these people.

Ranger Glarek, Magistrate to the late Councilman Tolak Dextor, approached the sword. He readied himself, rolling his wrists, fluttering his fingers. Tentatively he reached out with both hands hovering around the handle. Holding his breath, he grasped the sword. A pulse of magical power shot up his arms, across his body. His armour scorched, and his head wounded, he dropped to the floor. The Ranger was dragged away to be healed. Few others were daring enough to try for the sword. Besides, Farrek predicted that the next leader would come through the Gate. He was a man who made prophecies happen, why should this be different?


On Midsummer, a ritual was performed. Not by the Rodera, but certainly for them. On Asternia's holy day, her gaze was turned to the swirling mists of creation that loom over most of this land. A stream of Light magic flowed from the Gate of I'Meles, and twisted up into the sky. The power of another realm hung in the air over the entire land, forming a map; no, a reflection of the land that once was. The image, like a billion fireflies dancing, slowly descended. As it touched the mists, they flashed with power. The light that fell onto the Zeppelin Stone and its surroundings was in the shape of a great hall. At its centre were two thrones, one of which descended over the Blade of I'Meles. Gradually, the lights coalesced into a ring around the blade.

As the light faded, a crown remained, entwined with the blade. Around its edge two runes were etched many times. One like two triangles pointing inwards, meeting at their points. The other much like the letter R. The power inside the crown pulsed as the sword lashed out at this intrusion. Their power fed each other, and over time they became united. Whoever could wield this sword would wear this crown. They would be King or Queen.

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Peter Levy
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Re: The Sword and Crown

Postby Peter Levy » Thu Aug 15, 2013 3:31 pm

Tenrik was well-trained. He'd studied magic since he was very small, and was a potent Earth mage. He carefully approached the sword and the crown.

"I call upon the power of the Earth to shield my skin. I come to this place to prove myself worthy, and so I shape myself to become mighty. Powers of Earth surround my form and bestow upon me your strength. Let the hairs upon my skin be entwined and petrified. Let my skin itself be as stone. I call the truest power of the Earth to grant Rockskin, in the fifth rank."

He stepped a little closer.

"I call upon the power of Earth to surround me. An earthen shield, ready to stand between me and my target. Grant me a Shield of Earth, in the first rank."

He knelt by the sword, eyeing it up and down.

"I call upon the power of Earth to flow through me. The earth is strong, eternal, but my body is fragile and weak. I call the strength of rock into me. Let my muscles harden, firm, grow. By the greatest powers of Earth I bid my Strength increase.
"As the power of earth flows through me, now let me call it's power, to bend it to my will. Unite my form with Gerethanax, that I might channel the power, harness the strength and guide the force of Earth. By my power and the power of Earth, I conjure the power of Might to my arm."

Infused with the power of earth magic, Tenrik reached out to the handle of the sword. He took his firmest stance, breathed deeply, and clamped his hands down around the handle. He heaved with all his might and the sword blasted his Shield spell away. He continued to battle with the blade, which once again blasted him with magic, stripping away almost half of his Rockskin. He continued to wrestle the sword. For a moment, he thought he felt it twitch slightly. The strength of five men had perhaps begun to shift the blade from the earth. The sword lashed out again, taking away more of Tenrik's skin of rock. He released his grip.

"I call upon the power of Earth to be my shield. Protect me as I stake my claim upon this land. Earth Shield, first rank."

He focused for a few seconds, and the earth magic in his skin gradually returned. Once more he stepped up to the Blade of I'Meles, once more he failed. Tenrik was perhaps the closest, but he was not the one.

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Peter Levy
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Re: The Sword and Crown

Postby Peter Levy » Sun May 18, 2014 12:25 pm

It was shortly before dawn, and few of the Rodera were awake. A couple woke suddenly as they felt a flash of power. Something was happening at the Gate of I'Meles. Slowly a crowd gathered by the Gate. It had been activated from the outside; that should be impossible. As the mages crept closer to study it and discuss their immediate theories, someone in the crowd noticed a cloaked figure standing at the base of Doran's Spire.
The mages were immediately alerted as a pulse of Metamagic came from the stranger, who disappeared, and reappeared atop the great stone tower. The stranger was fixated on sword. The crowd moved in, and healers were called up to be ready to look after whoever this poor fool was. The cloaked newcomer tilted his head slightly and plucked the sword from the ground as though it was nothing. The crowd went deathly silent as a huge power began to build around the stranger atop the Spire. As he reached down for the crown, it began to emanate a terrific light, obscuring the figure from view. As he placed it on his head, the light grew larger and brighter; blinding as the sun. The ground began to shake, and the pillar of rock began to crack and then tumble to the ground.

As the light and the dust faded, there was a single figure standing in front of six-foot diamond; the core of Doran's Spire. The figure stood dressed in gold, with a wide purple mantle. The Crown had somehow extended to form a large golden mask with two curved horns. He stood still, Blade of I'Meles in his right hand. He held the sword up high, and a wave of magic rolled out from him. Every Rodera felt Light Magic flow through them; protecting them. He lowered his arm, and turned to the nearest person, beckoning them with his empty hand.
Timidly, the young Rodera approached him. The masked figure whispered a few things to him. The young Rodera then addressed the crowd, being fed the words line by line.

"This is The Shining One. He has come to complete Farrek's Deliverance."

There were a lot of mutterings among the crowd.

"The land of Noore I'Meles is reborn, and now our people can thrive once more. The borders are sealed with magic, though this will not hold forever. We must redouble our efforts to fortify Ona Ondor. We must expand our research into technology to protect ourselves. We must be ready for War."

Mother Mollal stepped forward to greet the Shining One, bowing slightly.
"Shining One, in accordance with the Old Lore I confer upon you the rank of Kaliph. Fate has chosen you to lead, and this sword stands as testament to this."

The Shining one bowed his head and whispered back
"Mollal, Mistress of the Academy of Light. You will sit to my left; the Heart of I'Meles. Lorax, Master of the Academy of Metal will sit to my right; the Mind of I'Meles. Together we shall be the Soul of I'Meles, and our people will prosper, our nation will grow, and the whole world will know of our might."

The crowd approached one by one, bowing slightly to their new Kaliph, aware that his presence is already protecting them magically. There is a sense of tentative excitement among the Rodera. The Second Age of Noore I'Meles begins.

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Re: The Sword and Crown

Postby Jake » Mon Jun 23, 2014 6:53 pm


A pink swirl of meta magic and two large figures appear on a slight rise overlooking what was now left of the spire. They briefly seem to exchange words, then one begins to make his way slowly and deliberately towards the shrine whilst the other waits behind.

It soon becomes clear to the few Rodera still scattered around the site that the person approaching is an Orc. His face is covered in white markings, but one symbol stands out - Gerethenax's earth. In his hand he carries a pale branch, though he does not seem old enough to need it for support.

Doran looks upon the shattered obsidian littering the area, the diminished core of the spire standing stark in the center of the debris. He frowns deeply, and stands still for a long moment. Then, wordlessly he makes his way past the Rodera, and weaves gently in amongst the remarkably unscathed boltab saplings. He stoops to pick up a chunk of the glistening black rock. He inspects it for a while, then inhales deeply and places it in his haversack. He spends the next few minutes collecting s much as he can carry, at one muttering some small prayer to Gerethenax that seems to markedly increase the bulk of his arms and chest.

When he is done, he looks out at the Rodera that are now watching him. He speaks loudly and clearly to no-one in particular, his voice rolling back off the ridge 'An Emissary of your people came to me some months ago, In exchange for performing the ritual that returned our land to this state he promised aid in the fight against the soulless. In particular, weapons containing condensed and volatile life magic.' He pauses briefly and looks around, trying to identify some authority figure. He notices an elderly Roderan female, slightly apart from the rest. All mothers have some power.... He looks at her. 'Please, contact General Gungrol or Haran Harwood. Even Erathil if you prefer. It is time to act.'

He turns and begins to make his way back up the rise to his companion.
Doran Onatah - Orc celebrant of Gerethenax
Duvall - Sellsword and wanderer

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