High Psionics/Low Magic IC

[TheMiningDwarf]

OOC Thread

Player/Character:
Tome/ Ori Nightsbreath, Elan Psion
Metool/ ???, Astredi Medic
Hazuki/ Khora Sapphiredam, Forgeborn Soulknife/Aegis
GideonBurkheart/ Airrex, Forgeborn Psitech Warrior/Enlightened Monk
Pi4t/ Duergar, Duergar Vitalist

Spoiler: World Background

Show

As magic began to be supplanted as a major power in the world, the people's responses varied, some were indifferent, but for many there was one response that dominated... Fear. Fear of the new and strange, and with fear came violence. Those who relied on magic most to sustain their dominion over others found the existance of a power they could not understand, nor control, most troubling.

As psionics rose to such prominence it displaced the arcane arts. The change in the populace is just as much reflected in the divine as the mortal races. Nethys, god of knowledge and magic sought knowledge anew, and in so doing he became the first god of psionics. Melding the old with the new, arcane, divine, and psionic. In this new era of psionically empowered beings, Nethys has become the God of Wizards, Clerics, and Psions alike. Whether Nethys bound himself to the psionic before, or after psionics began to rise is a matter of debate, as not even the most faithful of his clergy know for certain. What is known for certain is that Nethys himself, aside from gaining yet more power, refuses outright to regulate who should have such power. He sees fit to allow the power to move and spread of it's own will, with little concern for greater consequence.

Razmiran, the nation ruled by the False God Razmir was the first to fall into chaos. With it's internal power structures upended, would-be liborators seized the opportunity and rebelled, and a civil war soon followed. Forge-Born, half-construct humanoids built for war and empowered with psionic abilities, were created by burgeoning psionics in an act of desperation. In the end, the theocracy of Razmiran was overturned. Their singular purpose fufilled, the Forge-Born were left to their own devices. They were as intelligent as any other creature, and now they were free to find a new purpose, or wade headfirst into new fields of battle.

Next to fall into disarray was the nation of Chelliax. Though the psionicists of Chelliax were not nearly so successful in their rebellion against the ruling house of Thrune, there was at least an attempt made. The government has since banned psionics from it's borders. Although in practice, psionics flourishes by hiding from those who would reveal it's presence to the state. What few psionicists are able to refine their powers use them to escape persecution, some fleeing across the land, others by sea to nations such as Varisia and others across the Inner Sea.

Varisia itself has seen less radical changes than most. The government of the country was, and continues to be, a number of loosely connected cities-states. With no uniting force between them all, other than the almighty coin. With no overaching oppressive regime to overthrow, and plenty of open space for those deemed too dangerous by their own kind to be exiled to, a fragile peace with the growing psionic powers were estabilished. And after a time, psionicists found themselves as indispensable to the workings of a large city as any wizard, and oftentimes even moreso. Nowhere else is this begrudging acceptance seen more, than in the city of Janderhoff.

Once, a dwarven stronghold with ties to the darklands, the city has found itself the epicenter of the nation's psionic emergence. The city has also seen an economic boon brought about by the psionic crystal found in the mines throughout the moutain range. Unfortunately for the dwarven city the rise of psionics has not led to only boons. The Giantkin in the mountains have also developed their own psionic power, leading to increased aggression and casualties on both sides. Whatever has brought you here you've found yourself living in the city of Janderhoff.

The city of Janderhoff bustled with all walks of life, though it's population was mostly dwarven they were usually good enough to outsiders so long as they didn't cause trouble, despite whatever preconceptions they had. There was however one exception to that rule however, Giant-kin. It was on a cloudy day in the city that a message from the city guard, was spread far and wide, into every tavern and into the mouths of the town criers on every street corner. The message varied in tone and complexity but it's point was the same no matter what; "The city guard needs seasoned adventurers to hunt giants." Some would stress the danger that the Giants posed to the trade routes to and from the city, others would mention how well the governor promised to pay to be rid of them, and those with the flair the dramatic promised the honor of being known as a Giant-Slayer. Money, prestige, a chance to prove oneself on the field of battle, freedom, all that and more for those willing to fight.

[Hazuki]

Khora had spent the morning carefully toiling over some weapons for the soldiers of Janderhoff. They weren't masterworks, they weren't fancy, but they did the job and she was willing to work for cheap to keep her hands busy. Besides, it served the city better than overworking some of the lesser-skilled smiths still learning how to use Torag's favored tools. Working with her hands kept her mind busy, and that was all she needed after another night and another awkward interaction with a courier who'd found her attempt at conversation...the opposite of not fear inducing.

Before she knew it, her work was done. She placed the hammer in the crate that held the rest of those she made, then placed it in the corner of the workshop intended for deliveries.

Then she emerges into the city streets proper and hears the call for giant slayers. She heard them this morning, too, but hadn't been able to give them any consideration thanks to her duty. But she is a "seasoned adventurer", she supposes. She knows how to wield blades, how to make the best of her armor, even how to minimize the size difference between herself and giants. And bonds born on the battlefield are stronger than steel, according to some people. Adamantine would have been the more appropriate metal, if they wanted to highlight the strength of their friendships, but regardless...

Khora changes into a clean set of clothes, then heads to meet the city guards and apply for their giant hunt. She briefly considers "suiting up", but that would probably draw even more attention, so she heads there in a plain set of clothes and hopes her reputation will precede her.

[GideonBurkheart]

Early in the morning, Airex stood by his horses carefully brushing the dirt and dust off of them and cleaning them for the day's activities. He goes through his supplies in the back of his canvas covered carriage then Airex heads inside the stable house to greet the owner. He gets wind of the guards looking for some strong individuals for giant hunting and churns the thought through his mind. If he wishes to learn more about this place and their people perhaps giving aid to the local lawmen could bode well. Not that he needed the pay at the moment. So he sets a gold coin by the stable master and takes his leave.

Airex briefly pats down his gi, adjusts his hood and mask. Noddind in approval, he slings his bow and quiver onto his back. Thinking nothing of it, he slips his crystalline sword into his sash and secures it to his hip. He strides through town making his way to meet with the city guards. Hopefully they would not underestimate a monk and he can be on his way dealing with their so called 'giant problem.'

[Powerdork]

A man of Taldan descent, dressed in his finest for a funeral, gives his peer a glance, having heard the same call for action they did from the street outside. "You thinkin'?" He mutters to the cloaked figure behind him.

"Yes. Yes, I am, 'think-in'. Are you?" comes the sound of an unreal voice, seemingly of no earthly origin. A nearby figure, concealed with a flat-yellow cloak, steps away from the wall it was leaning on and casts its arms wide some to stretch. The smart linen shirt it wears, sized for a human, has its arms sagging over the wearer's thin limbs to an absurd degree. It gives the impression, when it reveals itself, of being more like tendrils than anything else, tendrils that sat coiled where a person's limbs would go. The thing's 'arms', such as they are, pull close to its chain-covered chest, and the shiny crystal gauntlets at the ends grab at each other's cuffs, pulling them taut over little stretches of unnatural vine that branch out to resemble hands.

"Harrumph", the man harrumphs at the mockery of his casual speech, arms crossed. "I think I'm out of the trade. Giants? No wage in the world would get me to go up against those, nowadays. Besides..." He gestures his head at the service, making it clear that he had other things in his life.

"Pity. I'd love to see you do more than spar," the abomination remarks, sure to keep its 'voice' low. The armoured and cloaked being then turns to leave, quietly striding out the doorway to inquire after specifics.

[Tome]

Ori awakened from her trance late in the morning, as was her habit. The peace of the night and the beauty of the stars always made good hours for contemplatation, something she needed to do much of lately. Argos was dead, survived by his wife and children. She wished she had been able to save him, but her petition to the council had been denied. There was a temptation to anger there, to rage against the injustice of denying her friend the chance to continue his life... but she couldn't let her feelings cloud her judgement. She simply didn't know the criteria by which the council selected new elan, nor the limitations of the ritual. Though some small part of herself noted the preponderance of red-haired, pale-skinned elan ascended over the past century, and felt that their criteria might be slightly more petty than she'd prefer.

Alas, without Argos by her side continuing the hunt was out of the question. She needed his sword arm, his magic, his... She needed her friend, she thought with a pang of grief. Others would have to defend this world from the things beyond the stars for a while, until she found a new partner. Not that he'd been able to hunt with her much the past while. Too old for this, he'd said. There were others she knew of, fellow adherants of Black Butterfly and other foes of the dark tapestry, who she could reach out to. She preferred not to. Confronting those nightmarish things was trying on even the most formidible will - a brief respite would do her good. Another year or two, maybe. Time to think, to process... to mourn.

Leaving the inn where she was lodging during her visit to Janderhoff - a pleasant one, which she'd stayed at several times over the years (a good thing the owners were long-lived dwarves, or they might have noticed her lack of aging) - Ori heard the calls for giant slayers. Not her usual foes, but if things are bad enough that they're calling for adventurers on street corners... She pondered the issue as she visited a museum she'd had her eye on. Better than the human ones, though she supposes she's not much older than a dwarven lifespan at this point. Give it time and she'll be noticing inaccuracies here too, she muses.

The giants could well be a threat, but the dwarven hatred for giants is well known. Could bias be colouring their perception? She'd have to check.

It's mid-afternoon by the time Ori finally arrives at the offices of the city guard.

[TheMiningDwarf]

The offices of the city guard were two things, overcrowded and understaffed, bureaucracy at it's finest.. After a time of waiting you found yourselves being interviewed, whether you all arrived at the same time or not the dwarf doing the interviewing used the same script, asking the same handful of questions each time; Name, Age, Place of residence in the city, Experience in combat, Area of expertise: Martial, Magical, or Psionic, If there were any next of kin to be notified should the worst happen, and finally that full payment would be reserved for After a successful mission. With each answered question the interviewer wrote on a form on the desk in front of them. All in all the interview was remarkably short. Finally at the very end of the interview you were presented with the form the interviewer had been filling out, with the verbal instruction. "Sign at the bottom."

The form itself was partly a profile on you and partly a contract of service condensed down to fit on a single leaf of paper. 'By signing you verify that all of the information stated above is accurate... the city of Janderhoff is in no way responsible for resulting injury or death should the previous information either emprically or factually be proven incorrect...' If one lied about their prowess, they would only be signing their own death warrant.

But of course, all of you are seasoned adventurers, and they would have been fools to deny you the opportunity to serve. After the interview was complete you were again all told the same thing; "Come back on the 'morrow, you'll want to be here bright and early."

The following day was dreary and cold. The city guard was again crowded with all manner of beings, many dwarves but some that looked more like beasts standing upright than men, and varying levels of strangeness between the two. As the clock tower rang 8 chimes a voice yelled out at the front of the crowd, a grizzled veteran of a dwarf who wore an eyepatch with a tell-tale scar running down that side of his face. He was old even by dwarven standards but he still stood tall, at least as tall as he could for a dwarf.

"FALL IN LINE MAGGOTS! SINGLE FILE!" Once order had been established, the dwarf yelled some more. "Listen up! Today you are not just grifters and sell-swords any longer, you are recruits to the guard of the glorious city of Janderhoff, and I am your captain! The city guard is more than just this city's last line of defense against incursions from above or below, we are a proactive military force! You will be treated like soldiers and I expect you Act Like It." He smacked the back of his hand against his palm for emphasis, the sound echoing across the quiet courtyard.

"If any of you are thinking that you oversold your abilities on that interview and you'd very much like to run home to your momma now is the time to do it. Any takers?" He looked up and down the rows of new recruits, no one budged. "Good! Just what I like to see, some Iron in the fresh blood." His gruff face cracked a smile.

"Now, you will each be assigned into teams based on the synergy of the abilities you listed in your interview. Each group will have one of ours, a veteran in the city guard, this will be your commanding officer." He grabbed one of the guardsmen standing up at the front with him as an example, the dwarf was decked out in full plate with the crest of the city emblazoned on the chest piece, the suit of hammers. "Your commanding officer will call your name and you can all exchange pleasantries from there." With an about face the captain yelled back at the crowd "Dismissed!", and walked away.

[Powerdork]

The cloaked figure gave their interviewer a headache. They didn't even have a name of their own. They were not quite 2 months of age. The honest truth.
They'd been staying in the Temple to Torag, in the industrial quarter. In fighting experience: they'd slain approximately 120 horrors from the Darklands, using significant martial expertise, plus some medical skill to boot. With no next of kin, they were obnoxiously unknowable.

On the next day, they stood in full kit (sans cloak), all fine shirt under jerkin under chain, and practical trousers, and professional-grade backpack hung on a belt at the hip, and crystal gauntlets that had no hands on display, and lizard hide boots in the local fashion, and a large, crudely-made wolf head mask, with the proud stance of an elven veteran of the Mordant Spire, not that anyone in Five Kings could be such a military buff that they'd recognize an obscure detail like that. Mostly they gave the impression that they were cocksure above all else.

It was a look that was tacky as hell.

With the dismissal, they began pacing the grounds, quick to come at the call of their assigned moniker.

[Hazuki]

Khora quietly considers the commanding officer to be something of a direspectful leader, but does as she's told and patiently waits for her to be addressed by her commanding officer.

[GideonBurkheart]

Airex is very straightforward with the interviewer. He was there visiting and looking for work. At the moment he was merely staying in his carriage at the stables. He was a fine psychic warrior and told the man as such. And the only real kin he could speak of were his Forgeborn brethren back home.

Once he had left he practiced the rest of the day by his carriage so as to also watch his belongings. One can never be too careful around people you do not fully trust.

Airex arrived back for training early and stood at attention, his arms crossed behind him and his left hand gripping his right wrist, while the captain barked his orders. The deep yells were actually quite pleasing to him, as it reminded him of his earlier days in the Forgeborn academy. He was very much used to men like this and as long as he followed the man's orders he should get in good standing with the other guards around. Perhaps some of the captain's men have never had the opportunity to spar with a Forgeborn hehe

As soon as the captain said to be dismissed, he relaxed his posture and waited for his named to be called by one of the commanding officers.

[TheMiningDwarf]

Once the captain of the guard had wandered off names started to be called. The gruff baritone voices of dwarves shouting names that were not your own were cut through by one serveral octaves higher. "Airex, Khora, Azlant". That was your cue, turning to face the source of your names you saw a tall slender woman, looking at her from the neck down you would be pardoned for mistaking her for an elf though one look at her face and it was clear she was nothing of the sort. Her brow was ridged as though plates of bone had formed under her skin, her hair was a light blonde but long, green, slender tendrils drapped over her shoulders. She wore a chain shirt with the symbol of the city guard emblazoned on the pauldrons covering her shoulders. A mace hung off her hip

As the crowds began to disperse, each recruit being called to their own commanding officer and you all (presumably) moving towards your own she looked up from her notes, her eyes scanning you, it was then that you noticed two things, firstly that her eyes were solid black, like polished stones. Secondly, you felt the touch of a psionic mind brushing against your own, it was no more than a light touch but it was there. After that intrusion on your mental space she smiled at the lot of you. "You're my underlings then." She said confidently. "Two forgeborn and an Astredii." She strode up to the Astredii, standing only a few paces away, looking intently at the cloaked figure. "The boys down in records didn't know what to make of you. A prankster they thought you were, they were this close to throwing out your file you know, but thankfully I was on record duty that day. Still, I wasn't sure until just this moment that you really are Astredii, it's been years since I've seen one, so I grabbed you up right away."

She turns her attention to the two forgeborn next. "And not just one forgeborn but two! Airex and Khora." Her brow furrows as she studies you two intently. "I never did learn any good way for telling the age of forgeborn, but thankfully the interviewer did that for me." She says with a smile as she flips through the sheets of paper in her hands. "Too young to be involved with the war in the river kingdoms, you must be second or third generation then..." She says more to herself than either of you. "Well good for you, a terrible time was had by all if the accounts I've heard are to be believed." She folds the papers up and tucks them away into a pouch at her belt before clapping her hands together.

"Where are my manners?" She shakes her head. "My name is Ivy, I'll be your commanding officer for the foreseeable future." She reaches out to shake each of your hands in turn. As she shook your hand each of you felt that same touch from earlier, only much more insistent this time... It felt like someone was knocking on the door to your mind, not maliciously just doggedly. She looked intently at you as she stood there shaking each of your hands for as long as it would take you to respond to the psychic prod. Whether you accepted it or refused she would simply move on to the next person without saying a word.

[Hazuki]

Khora is swift in answering the call of her name. The woman who'd called it is unusual, not any race she remembers encountering before, but considering her attire and position of authority, she likely isn't about to suddenly start flinging firebombs, unlike certain uncommon races Khora had encountered. The touch against her mind makes her steel herself for just a moment, but the woman is her superior, devoted to the cause of defending Janderhoff, and thus no reason to fear it.

The pondering on the nature of her birth brushes right by Khora, but she firmly shakes Ivy's hand and allows her to step into her mind, if that's what her knocking intends. She'd give her name, but it is likely the woman already knows it.

[Powerdork]

As the atstreidi shook a hand, a psychic channel opened up between Ivy and them the singular. They were eager to ask questions. It didn't show because they moved in the manner of a haughty elf, but they were rather a bit rattled by the notion that someone knew what they were, while they themself didn't.
For a moment, it seemed as if the focus wasn't on them, at least.

[GideonBurkheart]

Airex hustles over to the woman calling his name. He stands at attention with his arms crossed behind him. As Ivy spoke, he watched her moves trying to get a sense of what kind of soldier this woman was. Obviously she was psionic by the faint touch of another mund but she seemed rather kind; perhaps it was a ploy or cover.

No matter the reasons he indeed shook her hand as well and when she attempted to breach he immediately opened up to her. He was used to the mind probes, all Forgeborn captains did it to their units after long travels and battlea. If this woman really wanted whatever information he had in his memory she could easily take it like some of the more cruel captains would. But she seemed very different. Courteous in her 'knocking' so to speak.