Imagine a world that nature has reclaimed; no skyscrapers, pollution and machinery destroying our delicate world. Things are simpler now; simple tribes litter the planet, scattered by petty ideology, much like humanity always has been. This is the world now; after the Event, the Ascension occurred where humanity took a step back from their industrial powers and it seemed like an overnight change to the way things are now. You are members of one of these tribes; you live shadowed by the tattered ruins of an old factory. Your tribe has a rich history of new culture and technology, based off the steam devices scouts have found in the factory; however there are rooms, despite being opened once, have been sealed and locked away; the Elders seem to hold these secrets from the population. Fortunately, you and your friends are only children by their standards, barely 16; in short a free reign is given easily to explore the ruins. There is a misplaced trust that the child's mind doesn't turn to mischief; perhaps in these ruins lay treasures to be found, technologies beyond imagine, or even just an adventure waiting to happen.
This is an RP based in a Universe of my own making, thousands of years have passed since the Event and Ascension. Technology is primal at best, only advancements based off the creations of those before them. You are a member of one of these tribes; that being the D'reckle tribe; known for its advanced technology, by most tribe's standards. You are only just entering adulthood now and soon your lives will be tangled in the adult life; for now you and your friends love to scavenge old technology from the Ruins.
Edit: First little bit of info, sociological and cultural to follow tomorrow
Politics in your tribe are quite simple and are the rules followed by most tribes to this day. Elders are selected at the age of 12 by the previous generation and begin their education from that day forward. Some would call the word education too polite though and would instead say indoctrination, as they are taught the old ways and are expected to adhere to them; few are the tribes that improvise beyond tradition for fear of a second Ascension. Those Elders who have tried to change the tribes have been slowly phased out of the Council; from the initial 50 Elders at the beginning to a small tight knit group of closed minded Elders. These are the men who make the laws of your tribe.
Military in the tribes boils down to the manpower of each tribe, rather than the weapons they utilize. Because there are not many weapon advances, most are stuck with the basic sword or bow to combat with. War over land and resources are still quite common with tribes constantly being absorbed into one another in a constant fluid motion. However there are those tribes that have found old technology and molded it into their military, such as steam crossbows and basic iron and steel armours.
The Culture of the tribes vary from tribe to tribe, so for now you'll only know the basic culture of your own tribe. Family is a concept that hasn't been exclusive to blood for many generations, due to the shared surname, that being the name of the tribe, examples being Sarah of the D'reckle tribe and other names to that extent. Most of the intertribe relations rely on bartering and sharing of goods, a monetary system is only utilized with outside tribes for goods while interior goods remain on the former system. Few stories and legends are in written form, instead referred to in tales of the Old World; though the true history of The Event and Ascension are said to be kept on wondrous machines of the Elders.
[HEADING=2]Stories and Precurser to the RP[/HEADING]
This is an RP based in a Universe of my own making, thousands of years have passed since the Event and Ascension. Technology is primal at best, only advancements based off the creations of those before them. You are a member of one of these tribes; that being the D'reckle tribe; known for its advanced technology, by most tribe's standards. You are only just entering adulthood now and soon your lives will be tangled in the adult life; for now you and your friends love to scavenge old technology from the Ruins.
Name:
Age: [fixed at 16]
Description:
Sex: [List this as sex, gender is both different and up to you to describe]
Personality:
Childhood memories: [Bio]
Childhood Memento: [Something close to your character, could be anything of your choice]
Age: [fixed at 16]
Description:
Sex: [List this as sex, gender is both different and up to you to describe]
Personality:
Childhood memories: [Bio]
Childhood Memento: [Something close to your character, could be anything of your choice]
Edit: First little bit of info, sociological and cultural to follow tomorrow
Politics in your tribe are quite simple and are the rules followed by most tribes to this day. Elders are selected at the age of 12 by the previous generation and begin their education from that day forward. Some would call the word education too polite though and would instead say indoctrination, as they are taught the old ways and are expected to adhere to them; few are the tribes that improvise beyond tradition for fear of a second Ascension. Those Elders who have tried to change the tribes have been slowly phased out of the Council; from the initial 50 Elders at the beginning to a small tight knit group of closed minded Elders. These are the men who make the laws of your tribe.
Military in the tribes boils down to the manpower of each tribe, rather than the weapons they utilize. Because there are not many weapon advances, most are stuck with the basic sword or bow to combat with. War over land and resources are still quite common with tribes constantly being absorbed into one another in a constant fluid motion. However there are those tribes that have found old technology and molded it into their military, such as steam crossbows and basic iron and steel armours.
The Culture of the tribes vary from tribe to tribe, so for now you'll only know the basic culture of your own tribe. Family is a concept that hasn't been exclusive to blood for many generations, due to the shared surname, that being the name of the tribe, examples being Sarah of the D'reckle tribe and other names to that extent. Most of the intertribe relations rely on bartering and sharing of goods, a monetary system is only utilized with outside tribes for goods while interior goods remain on the former system. Few stories and legends are in written form, instead referred to in tales of the Old World; though the true history of The Event and Ascension are said to be kept on wondrous machines of the Elders.
[HEADING=2]Stories and Precurser to the RP[/HEADING]
Though so much had vanished from the Earth the day of the Ascension, there was still one thing that Man knew best. War continued to ravage the lands of Earth as tribes regularly went to war. Spear, shield and sword in hand the warriors charged at each other, spilling blood for land, women and resources. Such wars were occurring today, as Daven spied from the tree he had taken refuge in. He loved to watch the battles, the men and women so eager to throw away their lives for whatever ideologies they happened to have. That and the battles proved exciting; he had heard that prior to the Ascension, that man had started to use machine for war instead of man; while less bloodshed was had, Daven was sure that it would have been less exciting to watch.
A small crack caused a mass of war cries to erupt from the woods and soon, the two tribes were charging at each other; a sky littered in arrows and flying projectiles and soon the air echoed with the cries of the fallen, their bodies laying at the feet of the woods, food for the crows and vultures that gathered, anticipating the later feast. Nature had always found a way to recycle that which was destroyed by man. Daven drove those thoughts from his mind though; he had a battle to watch; he regretted his choice in location though, as arrows had peppered areas near him; he grew nervous at his roost, but knew if he dropped to the ground, his own would surely slaughter him without checking.
This was where he stayed for the hours that the battle raged on, the two both bitterly holding their own, refusing to grant any land to the enemy; many children, fathers, mothers and daughters laid strewn across the land, both forces exhausted, prepared their retreat to respective camps; today's battle was over and Daven prepared to sneak home before his parents began to wonder where he had gotten off to; battles didn't usually linger this long. However the length of that battle would not be the only abnormality of this day. For today they would come; those who had never been seen in over a millennia, the warriors of steel, those who carried old weapons capable of destruction the flora and fauna of Earth had not experienced in years. The Metal Men would now make their presence known once again. They had returned and all would fear them.
Daven slid down the tree and moved to stalk off back to the tribe. His footsteps light, he looked back before immediately colliding with a solid form; his hand moved up and down the breastplate of this enemy and then allowed his eyes to slowly travelled up to look the humanoid form in its eyes. They burned as coal did when heated, a cherry red that appeared to pierce his mind and soul; uncaring, cold and calculating the eyes looked over the scared teenager. Daven was seized by the neck and hauled up to eye level; frightened tears leaked from his eyes, but he couldn't look away, not from this piercing gaze of these beasts of metal. With the Metal Man's other hand, another steel device was raised, one that Daven had only heard of...firearms; he knew what was about to happen and attempted to call for help, when the rattling of shells forever silenced the boy. Tossing the small corpse aside, the Metal Man signalled to others, the tribes would have heard their movements; they had to silence them quickly.
The two tribes rested this night, the laws of war dictating that there was to be no night combat; it was an honour system that all tribes followed, lest they face the wrath of multiple tribes, it was simply not worth breaking the Rules of War for a simple advantage. These Metal Men had no such rules; if there was to be an advantage, they would take it and utilize it. They did so, as the others slept in their camps and rolls; the men moved quietly despite the equipment they wore. Standing in the camp, silent statues in the night, they moved as if in unison and raised their weapons. The jarring sound of shells woke those who weren't killed by the first spray of ammunition that spread across the camp like a deadly plague. There were few that were even able to get to their weapons before the barrage of gunpowder and lead ended their lives. The Metal Men immediately stopped their barrage as soon as all living were dead; there would be no point in wasting their valuable ammunition. They still had to cleanse the tribes these two armies represented.
The night was a bloody one, both tribes wiped from the Earth and their lands burned to the ground. Amongst the flames, the Metal Men could be seen throwing the bodies onto piles, as if they were collecting them from the fire; to what purpose though would not be revealed.
It took weeks before word came of the two tribes destruction; save for some blood, burn marks and their location on the map, the tribes were completely and utterly destroyed and stripped of their resources, all that was left were the husks of the houses the tribes had built for themselves. It was territory now, that no tribe would touch; the Metal Men had indeed made their presence known.
A small crack caused a mass of war cries to erupt from the woods and soon, the two tribes were charging at each other; a sky littered in arrows and flying projectiles and soon the air echoed with the cries of the fallen, their bodies laying at the feet of the woods, food for the crows and vultures that gathered, anticipating the later feast. Nature had always found a way to recycle that which was destroyed by man. Daven drove those thoughts from his mind though; he had a battle to watch; he regretted his choice in location though, as arrows had peppered areas near him; he grew nervous at his roost, but knew if he dropped to the ground, his own would surely slaughter him without checking.
This was where he stayed for the hours that the battle raged on, the two both bitterly holding their own, refusing to grant any land to the enemy; many children, fathers, mothers and daughters laid strewn across the land, both forces exhausted, prepared their retreat to respective camps; today's battle was over and Daven prepared to sneak home before his parents began to wonder where he had gotten off to; battles didn't usually linger this long. However the length of that battle would not be the only abnormality of this day. For today they would come; those who had never been seen in over a millennia, the warriors of steel, those who carried old weapons capable of destruction the flora and fauna of Earth had not experienced in years. The Metal Men would now make their presence known once again. They had returned and all would fear them.
Daven slid down the tree and moved to stalk off back to the tribe. His footsteps light, he looked back before immediately colliding with a solid form; his hand moved up and down the breastplate of this enemy and then allowed his eyes to slowly travelled up to look the humanoid form in its eyes. They burned as coal did when heated, a cherry red that appeared to pierce his mind and soul; uncaring, cold and calculating the eyes looked over the scared teenager. Daven was seized by the neck and hauled up to eye level; frightened tears leaked from his eyes, but he couldn't look away, not from this piercing gaze of these beasts of metal. With the Metal Man's other hand, another steel device was raised, one that Daven had only heard of...firearms; he knew what was about to happen and attempted to call for help, when the rattling of shells forever silenced the boy. Tossing the small corpse aside, the Metal Man signalled to others, the tribes would have heard their movements; they had to silence them quickly.
The two tribes rested this night, the laws of war dictating that there was to be no night combat; it was an honour system that all tribes followed, lest they face the wrath of multiple tribes, it was simply not worth breaking the Rules of War for a simple advantage. These Metal Men had no such rules; if there was to be an advantage, they would take it and utilize it. They did so, as the others slept in their camps and rolls; the men moved quietly despite the equipment they wore. Standing in the camp, silent statues in the night, they moved as if in unison and raised their weapons. The jarring sound of shells woke those who weren't killed by the first spray of ammunition that spread across the camp like a deadly plague. There were few that were even able to get to their weapons before the barrage of gunpowder and lead ended their lives. The Metal Men immediately stopped their barrage as soon as all living were dead; there would be no point in wasting their valuable ammunition. They still had to cleanse the tribes these two armies represented.
The night was a bloody one, both tribes wiped from the Earth and their lands burned to the ground. Amongst the flames, the Metal Men could be seen throwing the bodies onto piles, as if they were collecting them from the fire; to what purpose though would not be revealed.
It took weeks before word came of the two tribes destruction; save for some blood, burn marks and their location on the map, the tribes were completely and utterly destroyed and stripped of their resources, all that was left were the husks of the houses the tribes had built for themselves. It was territory now, that no tribe would touch; the Metal Men had indeed made their presence known.
Soon the Metal Men had taken the entire Southern Tribes, not keeping slaves, subjects, animals or children. They simply kept the land and closed the borders to all. So the Western Tribes banded together and marched to the South, not out of obligation to the people who had fallen; but rather for the resources that could be taken from the Metal Men. The jeers and screams of the united Western Tribes echoed through the Great Plains as they moved towards the South.
Geoffrey was such a soldier in this conflict; the Elders spoke of a new era of peace and prosperity amongst the Western Tribes, linked through their conquest and defeat of this threat, these beasts forged of steel and iron. Sword, shield, spear and bow would defeat these foes, but only because of their prowess in all aspects, as opposed to a tribe specializing in one of the arts of war. He was new to the war; new the army and as such was on the front line. He loved it, he was going to be one of the Heroes after this conflict, one of those worship by the classes of tribes; the ones of stories.
The warriors approached the ruins of the first tribes to fall in the South and saw nothing. No one sought to wage war with them, not even a single person stood to defend the lands that they sought to control. The commanders let out a laugh, and spoke in arrogance that they had frightened the Metal Men off for good; they had achieved victory without bloodshed. They had victory.
That illusion was destroyed with a large crack through the air; and a sudden explosion of gore and grey brain matter as one of the commanders flew off his horse and collapsed into the ground, dust kicked up by his spooked animal. Following the first explosion, multiple cracks sounded again and more of the high command fell into the dust, their cries echoing through the warrior's hearts. Panic was building; they were fighting an enemy that need not reveal it to make quick work of the command.
Geoffrey was lost in the panic that had enveloped the army, as warrior and Hero alike were terrified at this invisible enemy. Through the carnage though, he was able to see a mass of Metal Men, though admittedly smaller than the army he found himself part of, forming on the edge of the ruined tribe. In their hands they held more metal, crafted into something he had never seen before; like a giant blowtube resting on their shoulders. Smoke erupted from these tubes and soon an explosion rocked the group and sprayed dirt and rubble and gore through the air. The screams were the worst thing about it though, as men cried looking at their ruined bodies.
The massacre continued, they seemed invincible, impossible to cut, or maim in any way and so, the army fell; the single largest loss of life since the tribes had formed an uneasy peace with one another. Retreat was necessary and yet impossible, as the army stumbled any way that would result in less pain and less death; the ranks has broken and Geoffrey found himself alone amongst the corpses of the fallen. Shellshocked he wandered through the battle field, the screams of his companions, his fellow warriors rang hollow in his ears. His glazed eyes looked to the fires that were slowly erupting throughout the Ruins, the forest's edges also catching ablaze. So much destruction; nothing remaining, all because they had tried to wage war with these Gods; these men of steel that could not be killed. Forsaken they now were, by any God.
As he wandered towards the Metal Men, he saw one point coldly at him and silently another one of the loud weapons was raised against him, this one firing pain and death at a rapid but smaller scale rate. He felt the projectiles pierce his abdomen and the dark clouds of blood appeared on his uniform. Air left his lungs as he slowly sank to the ground, a small trickle of blood building up in his throat until he coughed it out. He would be no hero, no one outside of friends and family would remember him; those who did would say he was taken too soon, that they should not have provoked these monsters. And he agreed as he died alone on the Ruins.
The consequences of this action by the West would be felt for many generations, the Elders were sure of that; 10 000 men taken in the span of one day was unimaginable. There would be no comforting those who had lost their husbands, their sons, instead they would be allowed to lament the loss. Or they should have been, but there would be no safety anymore, not from these monsters; they were soon seen on the warpath again, heading towards the West and with no army to defend themselves, how long the West would last was left to no interpretation; they would die, as the South had. How tragic that the greed of some condemned them all.
Geoffrey was such a soldier in this conflict; the Elders spoke of a new era of peace and prosperity amongst the Western Tribes, linked through their conquest and defeat of this threat, these beasts forged of steel and iron. Sword, shield, spear and bow would defeat these foes, but only because of their prowess in all aspects, as opposed to a tribe specializing in one of the arts of war. He was new to the war; new the army and as such was on the front line. He loved it, he was going to be one of the Heroes after this conflict, one of those worship by the classes of tribes; the ones of stories.
The warriors approached the ruins of the first tribes to fall in the South and saw nothing. No one sought to wage war with them, not even a single person stood to defend the lands that they sought to control. The commanders let out a laugh, and spoke in arrogance that they had frightened the Metal Men off for good; they had achieved victory without bloodshed. They had victory.
That illusion was destroyed with a large crack through the air; and a sudden explosion of gore and grey brain matter as one of the commanders flew off his horse and collapsed into the ground, dust kicked up by his spooked animal. Following the first explosion, multiple cracks sounded again and more of the high command fell into the dust, their cries echoing through the warrior's hearts. Panic was building; they were fighting an enemy that need not reveal it to make quick work of the command.
Geoffrey was lost in the panic that had enveloped the army, as warrior and Hero alike were terrified at this invisible enemy. Through the carnage though, he was able to see a mass of Metal Men, though admittedly smaller than the army he found himself part of, forming on the edge of the ruined tribe. In their hands they held more metal, crafted into something he had never seen before; like a giant blowtube resting on their shoulders. Smoke erupted from these tubes and soon an explosion rocked the group and sprayed dirt and rubble and gore through the air. The screams were the worst thing about it though, as men cried looking at their ruined bodies.
The massacre continued, they seemed invincible, impossible to cut, or maim in any way and so, the army fell; the single largest loss of life since the tribes had formed an uneasy peace with one another. Retreat was necessary and yet impossible, as the army stumbled any way that would result in less pain and less death; the ranks has broken and Geoffrey found himself alone amongst the corpses of the fallen. Shellshocked he wandered through the battle field, the screams of his companions, his fellow warriors rang hollow in his ears. His glazed eyes looked to the fires that were slowly erupting throughout the Ruins, the forest's edges also catching ablaze. So much destruction; nothing remaining, all because they had tried to wage war with these Gods; these men of steel that could not be killed. Forsaken they now were, by any God.
As he wandered towards the Metal Men, he saw one point coldly at him and silently another one of the loud weapons was raised against him, this one firing pain and death at a rapid but smaller scale rate. He felt the projectiles pierce his abdomen and the dark clouds of blood appeared on his uniform. Air left his lungs as he slowly sank to the ground, a small trickle of blood building up in his throat until he coughed it out. He would be no hero, no one outside of friends and family would remember him; those who did would say he was taken too soon, that they should not have provoked these monsters. And he agreed as he died alone on the Ruins.
The consequences of this action by the West would be felt for many generations, the Elders were sure of that; 10 000 men taken in the span of one day was unimaginable. There would be no comforting those who had lost their husbands, their sons, instead they would be allowed to lament the loss. Or they should have been, but there would be no safety anymore, not from these monsters; they were soon seen on the warpath again, heading towards the West and with no army to defend themselves, how long the West would last was left to no interpretation; they would die, as the South had. How tragic that the greed of some condemned them all.
The South and the West had fallen. The Elders of the East knew this and feared the repercussions of this attack on the Tribes; the East prepared for war, but not as the West did, as a cohesive unit, but rather as distinct tribes. Whether or not this would be seen as weakness or strength threatened to be the last experiment of War these tribes would experience. Conscription began for men 17 years and older, many barely turning the age of adulthood were handed sword and spear and were expected to throw themselves against this superior force. But none came. This puzzled the Elders, why would the Metal Men stop their assault at this point?
This question would be answered by the Scouts that moved towards the South and Western tribe Ruins. They spoke of hundreds of the men, diligently moving Ruins tech from the Ruins. Careful and meticulous in their excavation. They were also meticulous in their defence of the technology as a few unfortunate scouts found out. The heavy hissing of air from the Metal Men as they moved through the forest, hunting the Scouts, showing no mercy. James was one of these Scouts, a fresh one only about 23 in age, defining himself by escaping the Metal Men 3 times previous. Now his laboured breathing could be heard only to the slightest ears as he tore through the forest, the only reason he stayed ahead was due to his light apparel.
When he was sure that he had a considerable lead on the Metal Men, he climbed into a tree, standing motionless as the Metal Men walked underneath him, the foliage cracking underneath their weight. One looked towards him and his breath stopped. He allowed himself a slight bit of respite when the Man looked away once again and all but one of the Metal Men continued on their patrol. James knew that there was only one way that he would be able to escape; doing so was a large gamble though. He moved towards the edge of the branch, moving almost silently against the wind. He then freefell and crashed on top of the Metal Men, who made no sound as it crashed to the ground. James pulled a knife out and went for the neck of the Metal Man, or at least where he was sure the neck was. As the knife sank into the softer membrane of the neck, the Metal Men immediately ceased its struggles.
James fell backwards, the knife coming with him. His breath was laboured and loud as he turned to look at the knife; the blade was painted a crimson red. He was shocked, but didn?t have much time to talk as the loud explosions of the Metal Men ripped the vegetation around him. With speed that he thought beyond him at this point, he began to run as fast as his legs would go back to his tribe, he had to tell the Elders what he had seen. This was the key that they were waiting for.
This question would be answered by the Scouts that moved towards the South and Western tribe Ruins. They spoke of hundreds of the men, diligently moving Ruins tech from the Ruins. Careful and meticulous in their excavation. They were also meticulous in their defence of the technology as a few unfortunate scouts found out. The heavy hissing of air from the Metal Men as they moved through the forest, hunting the Scouts, showing no mercy. James was one of these Scouts, a fresh one only about 23 in age, defining himself by escaping the Metal Men 3 times previous. Now his laboured breathing could be heard only to the slightest ears as he tore through the forest, the only reason he stayed ahead was due to his light apparel.
When he was sure that he had a considerable lead on the Metal Men, he climbed into a tree, standing motionless as the Metal Men walked underneath him, the foliage cracking underneath their weight. One looked towards him and his breath stopped. He allowed himself a slight bit of respite when the Man looked away once again and all but one of the Metal Men continued on their patrol. James knew that there was only one way that he would be able to escape; doing so was a large gamble though. He moved towards the edge of the branch, moving almost silently against the wind. He then freefell and crashed on top of the Metal Men, who made no sound as it crashed to the ground. James pulled a knife out and went for the neck of the Metal Man, or at least where he was sure the neck was. As the knife sank into the softer membrane of the neck, the Metal Men immediately ceased its struggles.
James fell backwards, the knife coming with him. His breath was laboured and loud as he turned to look at the knife; the blade was painted a crimson red. He was shocked, but didn?t have much time to talk as the loud explosions of the Metal Men ripped the vegetation around him. With speed that he thought beyond him at this point, he began to run as fast as his legs would go back to his tribe, he had to tell the Elders what he had seen. This was the key that they were waiting for.
At the time of the Ascension, there was man and machine. Before the Ascension though, there was the Event. The Event caused all humanity to recognize the potential of technology and in turn; fell prey to its alluring magic. Man began to worship the machine, rather than embrace what nature had naturally provided to them. They were blind to all but what their God complex compelled them to create. There was only what could be done, rather than appreciating what had been done. And so they fell into an endless trap of creation; never resting, slaves to the technological machine. When the Ascension came this was rectified and the survivors learned from the Ascension.
When selecting a candidate for Elderhood, one must take many factors into play. We aren't looking for inferior Elders and so, as decreed by the first Elders of this tribe; we proclaim the following requirements to Elderhood.
1. This Subject must be a male
2. This Subject must be of Upper Class Blood
3. This Subject must be able to speak well; not just to a few, but to crowds
4. This Subject must show potential to be moulded into what we see as proper Elderhood
There of course, are questions of what makes someone's blood Upper class. As you know, the castes of this tribe are developed into 3 basic distinctions. Those being Lower, Middle and Upper Class. Lower castes are the labourers, this meaning their education is insufficient for anything save for the labour they are born into; these are lost causes, ignore them and move on.
Middle class are the merchants and other such rabble, that are a bit beyond the lower class capabilities, but of course, not near the intelligent jobs required of the Upper class; again these decisions that the Elders will have to make, go beyond what those below Upper Class can even think or imagine. And so the burden falls to us in the Upper Caste; we are the thinkers, doctors, teachers and other such things that require a certain intellect to do. Any students known to be both bright, Upper Class and excellent speakers, should immediately have their names put foreward by one of you Elders. Whether they can be moulded or not, can be seen in the first training procedure.
Spoken By Elder Montanga 1st Elder of the Tribe
1. This Subject must be a male
2. This Subject must be of Upper Class Blood
3. This Subject must be able to speak well; not just to a few, but to crowds
4. This Subject must show potential to be moulded into what we see as proper Elderhood
There of course, are questions of what makes someone's blood Upper class. As you know, the castes of this tribe are developed into 3 basic distinctions. Those being Lower, Middle and Upper Class. Lower castes are the labourers, this meaning their education is insufficient for anything save for the labour they are born into; these are lost causes, ignore them and move on.
Middle class are the merchants and other such rabble, that are a bit beyond the lower class capabilities, but of course, not near the intelligent jobs required of the Upper class; again these decisions that the Elders will have to make, go beyond what those below Upper Class can even think or imagine. And so the burden falls to us in the Upper Caste; we are the thinkers, doctors, teachers and other such things that require a certain intellect to do. Any students known to be both bright, Upper Class and excellent speakers, should immediately have their names put foreward by one of you Elders. Whether they can be moulded or not, can be seen in the first training procedure.
Spoken By Elder Montanga 1st Elder of the Tribe
Name: Alexis
Age: 16
Sex: Male
Description: Standing at a height of about 5?11? and 180 lbs, Alexis is lean, thought fit and lightly toned from the amount of Ruin?s exploration that he partook in, first with his father as a child, and now alone or with one of his cousins. His face is one that would be easily forgotten in a crowd, save for his cold blue eyes that he had inherited from his father. It is said that they were there to help Alexis and his father navigate through the Ruins near the village. His arms and hands are slightly scarred from those various escapades into the Ruins.
He generally wears the tattered cloth of the lower classes, while being part of the Upper Class. He never felt at home with their intellect and often couldn?t keep up with the mannerisms in which the families brought in great measures. He preferred the outdoors to their various internal activities and so, while maintaining a particularly enjoyable, or at least tolerable relationship with his direct family, he had begun to isolate others because of his choice in clothing and lifestyle. To keep his shoulder length brunette hair from his eyes, he generally ties it back with a black ribbon in a rough open ponytail.
If he would take off his clothes, his shirt in particular one could note a large scar on his midsection from an unfortunate fall in his childhood. What he was doing, where he was going and who he was with, remains a mystery to this day, but it is to be noted that it was in the same week that he father was exiled.
Personality: As noted, Alexis was never one for the formalities of Upper Class, thus presenting him in a friendly, but a slightly more abrasive nature, one that wouldn?t generally be accepted amongst the tribes, but due to an unnatural charisma, he managed to maintain his relationship for many years leading up to his father?s exile. Even now, despite the other?s cold attitude towards him, he still maintains a basic charisma that gets him through the day. To his acquaintances, he is generally polite, agreeable with little to no protest to those who would seek to offend him, and succeeds in spite of this. To his friends, he is generally more open with his opinion, something that can please and offend people, especially in a debate that Alexis holds dear to his heart.
To those that go beyond acquaintances, those who go beyond simple friends see a final different side of Alexis, one that shows compassion and good will towards them, one selfless act away from any of them, he makes sure to try to accommodate them in any way. This is both one of his optimal strengths and yet, one of his greatest potential weaknesses with potential exploitation.
When arguing Alexis can be seen as stubborn or hard headed, due to his extensive beliefs. This is again one of his strengths and weaknesses as he sees his ways as the best way to do things, without giving much thought to other people?s opinions. This is bred from his natural charisma, having none of his friends normally having agreed with him or at least pretended to.
Childhood Memories:
The Beginning, before the Iron:
Alexis was born, eldest of what would be 3 children; while the others would take after his mother, he and father would be companions immediately, much to his mother?s family?s distress. His father?s family were known for a slightly more eccentric life, making the Upper Class, even the Elders themselves wondered if this man was to be trusted, he, after all, was not one of them. He had been a Northern Trader at one point, before he had travelled to the East, he had no reason to leave the comfort and the seclusion of the North. He had been amazed by the woman that traded with him, the woman who such an interest for metals, brass, nickel and if she was lucky, gold, ?My word woman, there is always more to come, spare the others some of my wares.?
The woman had blushed furiously, almost dropping the piece of Old World technology, but Daven caught it with a warm smile and handed it back to her, prolonging the touch, ?Well my dear, after that, I can?t let you leave without first getting your name?for collateral means of course,? he suddenly released the piece, seeing it slip out of the woman?s hands and shatter across the solid earth. She looked at his furiously, ?You made me do that!?
?Ma?am all I desire in payment is your name and perhaps a small tour of your village,? he gently chided her, waiting for a response.
She of course had said yes and the two eloped almost immediately. The Marriage was the most difficult part, delayed several days, while his authenticity as an Upper Class from the North was verified. Daven knew that technically he had deceived them, that technically he was more than the Upper Class. He was an Elderborn, from a Northern Tribe that still believed in that barbaric practice; it was how his eyes were considered to have gotten their unholy glow.
Regardless, the marriage was consummated and the two found themselves on the good side of her family once again. It was then found that Seinna was pregnant with a child already. It was so early that people assumed it was older than their marriage itself. This was ignored though and instead Daven took the boy under his wing at that point to teach him how his family had always made cash through trade. The secret was the Ruins. As the babe slept at night, Daven would stand by his bed, singing softly, he took out of his pocket a hot piece of iron he had salvaged many years ago. The smelter had heated it only moments ago, he held it in the babe?s hand and even as the babe screamed and the smell of slightly burned flesh emitted from their two hands, Daven knew it was done. He was now the son he would train to climb, he had his eyes and his mark, and the two would begin as soon as the naming ceremony was complete. As he named his child, he attached the Metal Bracelet, an old Ruin?s technology so it seemed, to the child?s wrist. Despite being too large and sagging off the child?s wrist, the point was made; this child would know the Ruins as he knew his own home.
The Exile:
Father and son were impossible to separate, the two went everywhere together. This included the Ruins of the D?reckle tribe. Daven knew the dangers of the Ruins and so, taught his son how to manoeuvre them, how the great Old World Technology worked and most importantly, what it would take to survive in emergencies in the Ruins.
This is what followed the next many years as Alexis grew and matured into a young man of 12. An event at this point in his life would prove to change Alexis forever, and create an obsession within him, a fire burning inside him. This would be the year his father was forced to leave the tribe forever, an Exile once again.
The soldiers came in the middle of the night, Daven had entered only just before; instead of the easy going attitude that usually came with his arrival, he appeared more agitated, his face coated with a thin line of sweat. He hushed his son away back to his bedroom. The door was torn off its hinges as the Warriors swarmed into the house, scaring wife and child, as husband was whisked off without explanation. It was only a week later when they received the seal of the Elder?s summoning them to the hearing, which they found he was to be exiled. The trial was a show, nothing more to slander the name of Daven and his name, that outsiders could not be trusted. He was run out of the city by the end of the evening, Alexis never saw him again.
Family Matters:
And so with 3 children, Sienna was forced to raise them herself, living off what her husband had stored away in which to barter for food. Despite the calls of the Ruin?s being cursed, there were more than one merchant happy to take it and they were able to live comfortably. One?s resources can only last for a finite time and soon, the only Ruin?s wares were those attached to her Eldest and the flesh had grown to embrace the iron. He was 12 at this point, merely a boy trying to be a man. He entered the Forest and looked upon the Ruins, the Ruins that had both cost his family so much, but yet had brought them so much. He stepped into Ruin?s their sour taste entering his lungs. And he stole; there was so much to take, the locals too afraid to have boy what a mere boy did. He returned to his home, his Mother unaware of what he plotted, he saw to the treasures never ending, that the family lived in good health. He thought he saw an understanding glance though in her eyes after the treasures hadn?t run out for many a week, let alone the day that seemed much closer than it was.
While they lived in a high bracket of living, it meant Alexis was to attend the Upper Class teachings as well. He didn?t find much of it interesting though and he wasn?t good at it either. Mathematics, History, though it could have more accurately been described as conditioning to believe the Old Ones had screwed up the world prior to their existence and that the Ruins couldn?t be trusted. He had been called slow before by the teachers, but he just liked to believe that he wasn?t going to be an Upper Class type when he was an adult; he just liked exploring and scavenging.
He wasn?t the only person in his family who appeared to have some trouble integrating with what was considered to be their social situation. One of his cousins, Caelan of his mother?s sister, was one who was mocked even more than he was. His cousin didn?t have his size, nor his build to rebuke those who mocked her either. There was nothing he could do though, not while their insults remained petty. It was also shown soon enough, that Caelan didn?t need his help in the school yard, when she fought a boy who told her she wore the wrong clothes. Caelan had won of course but it was her family that had paid for it. He had broken up the fight, pulling his cousin off the boy and protecting the boy from further harm, only for Caelan?s benefit though.
A Scar as a Souvenir:
At 13 he would obtain the scar that marked him until present day. It occurred on a scavenging trip on one of his free days while his mother was working and his siblings left to clean the home and squabble amongst themselves. He travelled to the Ruins once more and seeking more of their treasures ventured farther into the iron tangles of the buildings than he had ever gone before. It was deathly quiet, the sounds of the forest did not pierce the trappings of the Ruin?s walls.
Alexis moved quietly, seeing broken and twisted metal, tangles of copper surrounded by a tough exterior that ran to cracked glass upon what the Elders called plastic. They were how the old people had once recorded their information, but these ones were long dead. He wasn?t sure how they were powered either, they simply had their copper lengths attached to holes in the walls of the buildings. It made no sense to the young boy and so he ventured deeper for things that he could use, rather than the trinkets that the old people had used.
Finally he located a piece of scrap iron that had long broken away from the rest of the Ruins. Alexis grabbed it with his hands and struggled to lift it onto his padded shoulder where the iron would not cut into his flesh. This was how he had brought larger things out of the Ruins and so it would be how he brought this one home. It appeared though, that the Ruins were unwilling to give up this prize so easy, as they shuddered without an obvious cause, throwing Alexis and much of the loose Ruins around as if they were toys to the Gods above. When Alexis struggled to his feet, he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and saw what was going to be his prize, now buried partially in his flesh.
Biting back any tears that might have appeared, he pulled the piece out and wrapped his shirt and bound it tightly as his father had shown him as a boy. With his, now slightly spoiled prize, he made the slow journey back home. He was sure to stop off at the healers though, that took the iron without complaint and stitched and burned the wound to avoid infection. Nursing the hurt, but hiding it, within the next month he had a reddish scar across his midsection, a reminder that one had to respect the Ruins, for they would bite back.
One Generation to the Next:
It was just after his 15th birthday, which Alexis learned their grandmother was leaving his Aunt?s house to instead move into theirs, after, according to rumours; an argument had arisen with Caelan and her. Caelan was not a normal girl so it seemed, but instead someone who wished to change who they were. Alexis respected the choice and as such, found himself the minority in the families of his blood, who looked upon her with contempt. Some, such as his grandmother despised her for being who she or he rather was, some hated him for more selfish reasons, such as Alexis?s brother who now shared the same room, forced to give his own room up for their grandmother, but Alexis refused to hate his blood and clashed with his grandmother many times on what constituted normal. He became Caelan?s guardian, determined that all should have their own choice in what to be.
War and Recent Years:
It has now been a year and a half since the last major event in Alexis?s life, far too long for Fate to not frown upon its creations once more. War had come across the Tribes, in the form of the Metal Men destroying the South and West Tribes, wiping any trace of them from existence. It is now that Alexis sees the people around him, his friends, his older family recruited into the army. He is still too young to join the army and so he explores the Ruins, taking his cousin with him on occasion.
Childhood Memento: The iron bracelet his father gave him
Age: 16
Sex: Male
Description: Standing at a height of about 5?11? and 180 lbs, Alexis is lean, thought fit and lightly toned from the amount of Ruin?s exploration that he partook in, first with his father as a child, and now alone or with one of his cousins. His face is one that would be easily forgotten in a crowd, save for his cold blue eyes that he had inherited from his father. It is said that they were there to help Alexis and his father navigate through the Ruins near the village. His arms and hands are slightly scarred from those various escapades into the Ruins.
He generally wears the tattered cloth of the lower classes, while being part of the Upper Class. He never felt at home with their intellect and often couldn?t keep up with the mannerisms in which the families brought in great measures. He preferred the outdoors to their various internal activities and so, while maintaining a particularly enjoyable, or at least tolerable relationship with his direct family, he had begun to isolate others because of his choice in clothing and lifestyle. To keep his shoulder length brunette hair from his eyes, he generally ties it back with a black ribbon in a rough open ponytail.
If he would take off his clothes, his shirt in particular one could note a large scar on his midsection from an unfortunate fall in his childhood. What he was doing, where he was going and who he was with, remains a mystery to this day, but it is to be noted that it was in the same week that he father was exiled.
Personality: As noted, Alexis was never one for the formalities of Upper Class, thus presenting him in a friendly, but a slightly more abrasive nature, one that wouldn?t generally be accepted amongst the tribes, but due to an unnatural charisma, he managed to maintain his relationship for many years leading up to his father?s exile. Even now, despite the other?s cold attitude towards him, he still maintains a basic charisma that gets him through the day. To his acquaintances, he is generally polite, agreeable with little to no protest to those who would seek to offend him, and succeeds in spite of this. To his friends, he is generally more open with his opinion, something that can please and offend people, especially in a debate that Alexis holds dear to his heart.
To those that go beyond acquaintances, those who go beyond simple friends see a final different side of Alexis, one that shows compassion and good will towards them, one selfless act away from any of them, he makes sure to try to accommodate them in any way. This is both one of his optimal strengths and yet, one of his greatest potential weaknesses with potential exploitation.
When arguing Alexis can be seen as stubborn or hard headed, due to his extensive beliefs. This is again one of his strengths and weaknesses as he sees his ways as the best way to do things, without giving much thought to other people?s opinions. This is bred from his natural charisma, having none of his friends normally having agreed with him or at least pretended to.
Childhood Memories:
The Beginning, before the Iron:
Alexis was born, eldest of what would be 3 children; while the others would take after his mother, he and father would be companions immediately, much to his mother?s family?s distress. His father?s family were known for a slightly more eccentric life, making the Upper Class, even the Elders themselves wondered if this man was to be trusted, he, after all, was not one of them. He had been a Northern Trader at one point, before he had travelled to the East, he had no reason to leave the comfort and the seclusion of the North. He had been amazed by the woman that traded with him, the woman who such an interest for metals, brass, nickel and if she was lucky, gold, ?My word woman, there is always more to come, spare the others some of my wares.?
The woman had blushed furiously, almost dropping the piece of Old World technology, but Daven caught it with a warm smile and handed it back to her, prolonging the touch, ?Well my dear, after that, I can?t let you leave without first getting your name?for collateral means of course,? he suddenly released the piece, seeing it slip out of the woman?s hands and shatter across the solid earth. She looked at his furiously, ?You made me do that!?
?Ma?am all I desire in payment is your name and perhaps a small tour of your village,? he gently chided her, waiting for a response.
She of course had said yes and the two eloped almost immediately. The Marriage was the most difficult part, delayed several days, while his authenticity as an Upper Class from the North was verified. Daven knew that technically he had deceived them, that technically he was more than the Upper Class. He was an Elderborn, from a Northern Tribe that still believed in that barbaric practice; it was how his eyes were considered to have gotten their unholy glow.
Regardless, the marriage was consummated and the two found themselves on the good side of her family once again. It was then found that Seinna was pregnant with a child already. It was so early that people assumed it was older than their marriage itself. This was ignored though and instead Daven took the boy under his wing at that point to teach him how his family had always made cash through trade. The secret was the Ruins. As the babe slept at night, Daven would stand by his bed, singing softly, he took out of his pocket a hot piece of iron he had salvaged many years ago. The smelter had heated it only moments ago, he held it in the babe?s hand and even as the babe screamed and the smell of slightly burned flesh emitted from their two hands, Daven knew it was done. He was now the son he would train to climb, he had his eyes and his mark, and the two would begin as soon as the naming ceremony was complete. As he named his child, he attached the Metal Bracelet, an old Ruin?s technology so it seemed, to the child?s wrist. Despite being too large and sagging off the child?s wrist, the point was made; this child would know the Ruins as he knew his own home.
The Exile:
Father and son were impossible to separate, the two went everywhere together. This included the Ruins of the D?reckle tribe. Daven knew the dangers of the Ruins and so, taught his son how to manoeuvre them, how the great Old World Technology worked and most importantly, what it would take to survive in emergencies in the Ruins.
This is what followed the next many years as Alexis grew and matured into a young man of 12. An event at this point in his life would prove to change Alexis forever, and create an obsession within him, a fire burning inside him. This would be the year his father was forced to leave the tribe forever, an Exile once again.
The soldiers came in the middle of the night, Daven had entered only just before; instead of the easy going attitude that usually came with his arrival, he appeared more agitated, his face coated with a thin line of sweat. He hushed his son away back to his bedroom. The door was torn off its hinges as the Warriors swarmed into the house, scaring wife and child, as husband was whisked off without explanation. It was only a week later when they received the seal of the Elder?s summoning them to the hearing, which they found he was to be exiled. The trial was a show, nothing more to slander the name of Daven and his name, that outsiders could not be trusted. He was run out of the city by the end of the evening, Alexis never saw him again.
Family Matters:
And so with 3 children, Sienna was forced to raise them herself, living off what her husband had stored away in which to barter for food. Despite the calls of the Ruin?s being cursed, there were more than one merchant happy to take it and they were able to live comfortably. One?s resources can only last for a finite time and soon, the only Ruin?s wares were those attached to her Eldest and the flesh had grown to embrace the iron. He was 12 at this point, merely a boy trying to be a man. He entered the Forest and looked upon the Ruins, the Ruins that had both cost his family so much, but yet had brought them so much. He stepped into Ruin?s their sour taste entering his lungs. And he stole; there was so much to take, the locals too afraid to have boy what a mere boy did. He returned to his home, his Mother unaware of what he plotted, he saw to the treasures never ending, that the family lived in good health. He thought he saw an understanding glance though in her eyes after the treasures hadn?t run out for many a week, let alone the day that seemed much closer than it was.
While they lived in a high bracket of living, it meant Alexis was to attend the Upper Class teachings as well. He didn?t find much of it interesting though and he wasn?t good at it either. Mathematics, History, though it could have more accurately been described as conditioning to believe the Old Ones had screwed up the world prior to their existence and that the Ruins couldn?t be trusted. He had been called slow before by the teachers, but he just liked to believe that he wasn?t going to be an Upper Class type when he was an adult; he just liked exploring and scavenging.
He wasn?t the only person in his family who appeared to have some trouble integrating with what was considered to be their social situation. One of his cousins, Caelan of his mother?s sister, was one who was mocked even more than he was. His cousin didn?t have his size, nor his build to rebuke those who mocked her either. There was nothing he could do though, not while their insults remained petty. It was also shown soon enough, that Caelan didn?t need his help in the school yard, when she fought a boy who told her she wore the wrong clothes. Caelan had won of course but it was her family that had paid for it. He had broken up the fight, pulling his cousin off the boy and protecting the boy from further harm, only for Caelan?s benefit though.
A Scar as a Souvenir:
At 13 he would obtain the scar that marked him until present day. It occurred on a scavenging trip on one of his free days while his mother was working and his siblings left to clean the home and squabble amongst themselves. He travelled to the Ruins once more and seeking more of their treasures ventured farther into the iron tangles of the buildings than he had ever gone before. It was deathly quiet, the sounds of the forest did not pierce the trappings of the Ruin?s walls.
Alexis moved quietly, seeing broken and twisted metal, tangles of copper surrounded by a tough exterior that ran to cracked glass upon what the Elders called plastic. They were how the old people had once recorded their information, but these ones were long dead. He wasn?t sure how they were powered either, they simply had their copper lengths attached to holes in the walls of the buildings. It made no sense to the young boy and so he ventured deeper for things that he could use, rather than the trinkets that the old people had used.
Finally he located a piece of scrap iron that had long broken away from the rest of the Ruins. Alexis grabbed it with his hands and struggled to lift it onto his padded shoulder where the iron would not cut into his flesh. This was how he had brought larger things out of the Ruins and so it would be how he brought this one home. It appeared though, that the Ruins were unwilling to give up this prize so easy, as they shuddered without an obvious cause, throwing Alexis and much of the loose Ruins around as if they were toys to the Gods above. When Alexis struggled to his feet, he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and saw what was going to be his prize, now buried partially in his flesh.
Biting back any tears that might have appeared, he pulled the piece out and wrapped his shirt and bound it tightly as his father had shown him as a boy. With his, now slightly spoiled prize, he made the slow journey back home. He was sure to stop off at the healers though, that took the iron without complaint and stitched and burned the wound to avoid infection. Nursing the hurt, but hiding it, within the next month he had a reddish scar across his midsection, a reminder that one had to respect the Ruins, for they would bite back.
One Generation to the Next:
It was just after his 15th birthday, which Alexis learned their grandmother was leaving his Aunt?s house to instead move into theirs, after, according to rumours; an argument had arisen with Caelan and her. Caelan was not a normal girl so it seemed, but instead someone who wished to change who they were. Alexis respected the choice and as such, found himself the minority in the families of his blood, who looked upon her with contempt. Some, such as his grandmother despised her for being who she or he rather was, some hated him for more selfish reasons, such as Alexis?s brother who now shared the same room, forced to give his own room up for their grandmother, but Alexis refused to hate his blood and clashed with his grandmother many times on what constituted normal. He became Caelan?s guardian, determined that all should have their own choice in what to be.
War and Recent Years:
It has now been a year and a half since the last major event in Alexis?s life, far too long for Fate to not frown upon its creations once more. War had come across the Tribes, in the form of the Metal Men destroying the South and West Tribes, wiping any trace of them from existence. It is now that Alexis sees the people around him, his friends, his older family recruited into the army. He is still too young to join the army and so he explores the Ruins, taking his cousin with him on occasion.
Childhood Memento: The iron bracelet his father gave him
