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Old 01-10-2013, 01:05 PM   #1
Evangeline
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Default The Scrolls of Regnum

Last night i had an epiphany, and i decided to turn it into words this is what i call my personal "vision" of the game, and why i like the game so much, and it's what i think lacks more in the game, the roleplay.
I am going to write it all but it will take some time its a pretty decent story, i dont want to turn it into a book so i wont write too many details, i will write the sequence of parts with the respective titles in this thread.
This is something i am doing for pleasure, you guys are free to read if you feel curious about it if you do read and wanna give feedback, thank you

The Scrolls of Regnum


~ The birth of Ignis - Part 1 ~


A handful of gold coins, that was the worth of a Molok in the realm of Syrtis, home of the elvish race. They were sold to their masters and forced to work and satisfy their master's sexual indulgences in order to remain alive, the ones that went against their masters ended up being fed to the soil worms. One Molok however, did manage to make a difference, and change everything. He was a martyr, the one they nowadays call Daracan, was once someone's property. His master abused him so hard that the screaming could be heard across the whole city of Raeraia. One day, Daracan stood up to his master, he looked at him, he had the tired eyes and pale face of someone with nothing to loose. "Is there something on your mind, slave?" - asked his master without expecting an answer, but the poor slave replied, his words trembled with uncertainty and doubt - "No... No..." - and suddently, just like that his uncertaintly was gone, a dead man without doubt or fear, he shouted - "NO MORE!" - his left hand reached for the butter knife on top of the coffee table, his movement was quick and swift, the elvish brute had no time to react, with a simple stroke he slashed his master's throat, who felt on the ground and was dead in a matter of seconds from a massive blood loss.

After killing his master, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was caught and executed for his actions, but his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and adrenaline, he was enjoying the moment, in his whole life he has never felt so alive. The slave escaped throught a side entrance of the realm wall that was rarely used or known to exist, and waited. The following day, rumours spreaded like wildfire, the Moloks came to know of the rebellion and escape of one of their own, and decided they should stand up to their masters too. They plotted a large scale rebellion, they sneaked away and gathered every Molok they could find, along with several weapons that belonged to their masters, then headed towards the gate, savaging anyone in their path. On their way outside of the realm, they encountered someone they did not expect - the one that got away. They gave that Molok a name, Daracan, that meaned "hope" in their native language. He became their leader, and took them northeast, to the lost sands of the desert, where they would build a new home, and prepare their revenge towards Syrtis.

~ The birth of Ignis - Part 2 ~

Two years had passed since the mass slave rebellion, the Moloks had finnaly built a place they could call home, they named it Ignis. They had built a vast wall to protect them from possible elvish attacks, and large cities where they could happily prosper. Their warriors became very proficient in the deadly arts of the sword and the bow, however they still lacked the sorcery that could keep Syrtis at a safe distance from their home. A group of hooded elves approached the Ignean gates, but unlike the usual elves, these had a dark skin and their eyes gloomed as if they had seen the truth of the universe. The ignean patrol that was on duty immediately surrounded the group of elves, fearing they could threaten their peaceful existance. The dark elves pulled back their hoods, and started talking to each other in an elvish dialect - "We come in peace, Moloks. We mean you no harm, and wish to discuss an aliance." - said one of them in the Molok mother tongue. The patrol was surprised that those elves were familiar with their language, they decided to take them to Daracan for further instructions, however they did not trust them completely just yet.

Altaruk, the ignean capital, a majestuous place resembling a sand castle, a place full of life, the streets glow tones of red and orange from the fiery torches that light the city during the night. The group of elves is escorted to Daracan's chambers, and they are asked to drop any weapon they hold before meeting with Daracan. They seem a bit reluctant at first, but they agree and enter Daracan's chambers. Inside, Daracan sits in a big velvet chair, clearly the work of notorious Molok craftsmanship, they once made chairs for their Syrtis masters when they were enslaved. "My men tell me you wish to discuss "aliance" matters, is that correct?" - inquiries Daracan suspiciously - "But before you answer, something bothers me, why is your skin different from normal elvish skin? You all have dark purplelike skin and eyes that could scare death itself." - theres a short moment of silence, interrupted by one of the elves who says - "We will tell you our story, great Daracan. We are old members of a Syrtis clan of powerful warlocks and conjurers, with an unsaciable thirst for knowledge. Our goal is to understand the meaning of life, and for that we required to know every type of elvish magic, but we could not learn black magic, the law forbid its practise... but we learned it in secret and we found out why the law forbid it... this power, it consumes us, only someone with very strong willpower can live with it, these are the only survivors of my clan, the rest died, and we were banished from syrtis, never again to return." - the dark elf next to him interrupted his companion - "We are cursed elves, the magic changed our aspect to a darkish tone, and we come to you asking for forgiveness for our past sins, and offering you our magic." - Daracan's expression becomes thoughtful and serious after hearing their story - "Could a Molok learn such magic?" - the dark elves start arguing among themselves and one replies - "A normal Molok might not endure such power, but it has never happened so we don't know.", Daracan begins to grow an eager for that power - "Very well, i will accept you into our home and allow you to call it home as well. But first you must teach me this magic, however, if i die you must share the same fate. Do you agree with these conditions?".

The dark elves agreed with Daracan's conditions, and todd him black magic, he did not die nor did the magic refuse him, however something curious happened, he became a Dark Elf himself! The dark elvish group was led to believe that perhaps Moloks were related with the elves by blood, they might have been elves in a past life, it's the only thing that could explain such an event. Moloks and Dark Elves now coexisted in harmony in the lands of Ignis, fighting for their existance.

~ Danse Macabre ~

The Moloks have been known to wear tattoo's on their bodies, to them it is a symbol, a constant reminder of their rage and anger towards Syrtis for enslaving their kin in the past. Aeneas is an Ignean Molok, he was born after the big escape, so he doesnt hate Syrtis, however he wouldn't hesitate on killing anyone who threatens his home. Aeneas was sent to deliver a message to a Guard in Meleketi city, he made haste to get it delivered quickly. Upon arrival he realizes something is wrong, he couldn't hear anything, no voices, no laughter, nothing at all. He went up the city stairs, and what he saw froze him. Merchants laying dead on the floor, weaponsmiths, woodworkers, trainers, women and children, noone was left alive, it seemed like a nightmare, but he wouldnt wake up. "Who would have done such cruelty towards this poor city?" - Aereas sights a survivor, by the sideroad - "Are you alright? Can you get up?" - Aeneas pulls the poor man up and sits him on a nearby chair - "What happened here? Who did all this?" - the man lingered in fear and terror, after a moment of silence he spoke - "They came... they took it... everyone they kill..." - the man was too frightened to make any sense.

Suddently, Aeneas hears the sound of a battle, someone was fighting nearby. He quickly heads towards the edge of the city's stairway, he could see an army of Moloks and Dark Elves chasing a group of Syrtians heading south, they were falling one by one at the hands of Îgnis. By the time the Syrtians reached the bridge, they were only three left, a female conjurer, a male hunter and a female barbarian surrounded by dozens of Ignean soldiers. Aeneas strived to get closer to the fight unseen. From the looks of it Ignis had won, but they were all deceived, something completely unexpected happened, noone could understand what was happening, not even Aeneas. The three Syrtians were killing every single one of the Ignis soldiers. One by one the Ignis felt, it happened so fast, Aeneas was dazzled with the Syrtian barbarian girl, her movements were swift and agile, she would appear as if she was dancing with her two blades, slashing an Ignis for 2 seconds then moving on to the next one, without stopping. Danse Macabre. "Is this... love?" - Aeneas couldn't believe his eyes, in less than 3 minutes those three Syrtians had decimated that Ignis army... It was love at first sight, however Aeneas knew it was a forbidden love, the friends he shared meals with had just been slaughtered in front of him, he knew he had to put an end to that dance. He picked up a bow he found in the battle wrecks, he aimed at her back, pulled the bow's string and shot the arrow towards this goddess. He could not believe his eyes when the arrow actually strook her in the back! She felt dead on the ground, leaving the other two Syrtians vulnerable to melee attacks. After seeing her fall, the remaining survivors killed them, putting an end to this dance of the death.

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Last edited by nohan; 03-26-2013 at 09:44 PM.
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Old 01-10-2013, 01:38 PM   #2
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Good start. I look forward to more. The only thing that took me out of the story was the reference to "rumours spread like potato chips" somehow that reference felt out of place in something that might be of a historical context. If you wrote : "Rumours spread like wildfire" I feel like it would feel more authentic. The imagery a wild fire conjurers up is more intense if you know what I mean.

Good story so far.
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Old 01-10-2013, 01:47 PM   #3
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haha i wrote popato chips initially as a joke, but you are so right it does disrupt the context the reader probably "wakes up" from the story after reading that, i changed it as you suggested ty for the feedback made the story a bit better will post part 2 soon
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Old 01-10-2013, 01:59 PM   #4
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Quote:
Originally Posted by nohan View Post
his left hand reached for the butter knife on top of the coffee table, his movement was quick and swift, the elvish brute had no time to react, with a simple stroke he slashed his master's throat, who felt on the ground and was dead in a matter of seconds from a massive blood loss.
Damn. Killed by a butter knife. Damn.

I like your take on the lore of RO. Also like how you make us Iggies sound like we were right in the first place. That's right. Die, evil Syrtis scum! Die!

Oh, btw, I'm just curious. Is English your first language?
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Old 01-10-2013, 02:10 PM   #5
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Quote:
Originally Posted by JainFarstrider View Post
Damn. Killed by a butter knife. Damn.

I like your take on the lore of RO. Also like how you make us Iggies sound like we were right in the first place. That's right. Die, evil Syrtis scum! Die!

Oh, btw, I'm just curious. Is English your first language?
nop im portuguese, so my english isnt perfect
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Old 01-10-2013, 02:37 PM   #6
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It's a nice begining. However Moloks were Ignis natives, meaning they origined from there.
Daracan is a Dark Elf meaning he was a Wood Elf not a Molok.
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Old 01-10-2013, 04:00 PM   #7
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Yeah make daracan the one who got raped... im sure ancalimon was having sexual relations with baldrik, if you know what i mean
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Old 01-10-2013, 05:14 PM   #8
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Tamui View Post
It's a nice begining. However Moloks were Ignis natives, meaning they origined from there.
Daracan is a Dark Elf meaning he was a Wood Elf not a Molok.
this part 2 explains how daracan became a dark elf hehehe
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Old 01-10-2013, 05:21 PM   #9
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Quote:
Originally Posted by nohan View Post
this part 2 explains how daracan became a dark elf hehehe
Ohhh right. Don't forget to mention NGD gave him a free race change scroll

I'll check part two then I'll tell you what I think
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Yeah make daracan the one who got raped... im sure ancalimon was having sexual relations with baldrik, if you know what i mean
Hey, remember Mashu's thread, Gelfs = Gay Elfs!!!!!
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Old 01-10-2013, 08:18 PM   #10
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Tamui View Post
Hey, remember Mashu's thread, Gelfs = Gay Elfs!!!!!
Lucky coincidence, i thought he meant syrtis being gay with trees.
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