The Elementalists
OOC:
Roster:http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?510510-Elementalists-(Roster)
The Industrial Age has begun.
Three hundred years ago, wizards, warlocks and sorcerers competed to each have the most powerful magics, to give their respective nations more power than their neighbors. The Magical Arms Race turned into a magical cold war, which soon heated up into a world war that devastated the world, leaving much of the wilds, and even some cities, as desolate wastelands.
When the dust settled, the whole world, for the first time, agreed on one thing: magic was too dangerous to be left unchecked. In an unprecedented show of international cooperation, the Conclave of Magic was created. The Conclave was charged with regulating all Arcane Magic, only issuing so many licenses per year to each nation. All wizards had to study at the Conclave, all Sorcerers had to register their power and periodically check in with them. Warlocks are given a license on a case-by-case basis, and fiendish ones are outright banned.
The Mirrored Temple is the most prominent religion in the world, spreading to every country and continent, as their main tenant is that every religion’s gods are simply another, as yet unknown Reflection of the Divine: one God, with an infinite number of reflections and aspects. Every culture values different aspects, or Reflections, more than others.
However, for the past few decades, changes have begun to rapidly grow on the continent of Elindil, in the western portion of the world. The invention of the steam engine, the printing press, and the widespread use of gunpowder, has altered the course of the continent forever. Due to the Conclave giving only so many Magic Licenses, Magic has dwindled. Attendance at the temples has waned of late as well. The use of logic and reason has begun to take hold, and the old ways are being forgotten.
But while the use of magic has waned, a feeling of unease has settled over certain members of the population. Elemental Magic has been failing at higher rates than normal. Certain individuals from across the continent begin having strange dreams. Dreams of destruction and chaos. Of fire that cools, earth that melts, air that is frozen solid and water that burns, and an ancient temple to the Divine Reflections in a city to the South.
[sblock=Xobra]
You step out on to the land, taking your first breath of air in six years. Before you is a large city, one you have been seeing in your dreams. This is not the land of your birth, so you have no reference point to know what the city is. But your Patron has apparently released you from his service and sent you to the surface, promising more power if you continue to work for him on the surface world. For the last six years, your patron has been training you with what seems to be a fervent need, as in preparation for something, though he never answered your questions as to what.
Every now and then, you have a dizzy spell. It only lasts a moment, but it is happening more frequently. At first, it was once a month. Now it is more like once a week. Your patron will not acknowledge you when you ask about it. Of course, this happens often, as if the thing simply doesn’t hear questions it doesn’t want to answer. [/sblock]
[sblock=Vimak]
The dreams disturb you. You tell your tribe’s shaman, but many do not believe you. One old one, however, comes to you one night, telling you ancient legends extending back to when the Aarakocra lived in the Plane of Air, about a corruption that the Aarakocra helped fight off and contain. He believes that the answers to why you are having these dreams lies in the ancient site of Elemental Harmony, but this place was lost many centuries ago, after the Mirrored Temple took hold. Your dreams, however, have been of a particular city to the south, the city of Albion, and perhaps your search should begin there. [/sblock]
[sblock=Jord]
In your dreams, you can hear the voice of the Reflection of the Divine you most closely associate with. It is distant, feint, as if struggling to talk to you, but you can feel their power flowing in to you as they speak, calling you a “Child of Earth”. They tell you of a city to the south, where ancient troubles are stirring, and show you an old Temple to the Reflections deep in the city, almost forgotten by those around them. What you are to do there is not said, but the urgency is unmistakable. [/sblock]
[sblock=Lola]
You’ve been caught. In the middle of a long con, an old mark showed up out of nowhere and recognized you. This forced you to leave the city you were in and make for the Midwest.
On the way, you started having the dreams. In the dreams, you saw a temple in a large city to the south, and you recognize the city as Albion, because of the mixture of human and elven architecture, and dwarven masonry. It is the pinnacle of technological advancement, and therefore one that has very few, if any, magic and magic users. Could be dangerous, but then again, fewer people will be expecting magic. Could be fun? [/sblock]
[sblock=Nacay]
You have been changed. Altered. You have been wandering the world since the…incident, and are trying to figure out who, and what, you have become. You have become incredibly attune to elemental magic, and can feel a disturbance to the south, almost like a signal emanating from a certain city. It feels…familiar. The chaos, the turmoil, is a mirror of what you have become. It may have answers for you. Answers you need. [/sblock]
[sblock=Theremin]
The monks of your order are disturbed. The elder monks can feel an alteration in the very nature of the elements, though it is so small as to cause little effect. They are worried that something is happening to the Planes, but nobody has traveled to or from the planes for centuries, ever since the Temple of Elemental Harmony was lost.
The source of this problem seems to be in a city to the south, called Albion, the center of technological enlightenment. It is a multicultural hub, the center of this new industrial age. Something there is connected to these disturbances, and they have elected you, as an Avariel, to act as their agent in searching out this disturbance and helping to correct it in any way you can. [/sblock]
Albion is divided into four basic sections: the Factory District up north, where many people work; the Temple District to the west, which is also home to the city’s governmental buildings; The docks and market district is to the east, and the upscale district to the south, where the rich hob nob. Lower priced residential areas pockmark the city.
You have each entered the city at the same time, and managed to find the same tavern, The Frosty Blaze. The tavern is located in the market district. It’s a rather large one, with some patrons gambling in one corner, a fully stocked bar, and a number of rooms upstairs. The bartender is a portly man with rosy cheeks, who lazily serves the drinks to whoever asks, more intent on conversation than making sales.
OOC:
Roster:http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?510510-Elementalists-(Roster)
The Industrial Age has begun.
Three hundred years ago, wizards, warlocks and sorcerers competed to each have the most powerful magics, to give their respective nations more power than their neighbors. The Magical Arms Race turned into a magical cold war, which soon heated up into a world war that devastated the world, leaving much of the wilds, and even some cities, as desolate wastelands.
When the dust settled, the whole world, for the first time, agreed on one thing: magic was too dangerous to be left unchecked. In an unprecedented show of international cooperation, the Conclave of Magic was created. The Conclave was charged with regulating all Arcane Magic, only issuing so many licenses per year to each nation. All wizards had to study at the Conclave, all Sorcerers had to register their power and periodically check in with them. Warlocks are given a license on a case-by-case basis, and fiendish ones are outright banned.
The Mirrored Temple is the most prominent religion in the world, spreading to every country and continent, as their main tenant is that every religion’s gods are simply another, as yet unknown Reflection of the Divine: one God, with an infinite number of reflections and aspects. Every culture values different aspects, or Reflections, more than others.
However, for the past few decades, changes have begun to rapidly grow on the continent of Elindil, in the western portion of the world. The invention of the steam engine, the printing press, and the widespread use of gunpowder, has altered the course of the continent forever. Due to the Conclave giving only so many Magic Licenses, Magic has dwindled. Attendance at the temples has waned of late as well. The use of logic and reason has begun to take hold, and the old ways are being forgotten.
But while the use of magic has waned, a feeling of unease has settled over certain members of the population. Elemental Magic has been failing at higher rates than normal. Certain individuals from across the continent begin having strange dreams. Dreams of destruction and chaos. Of fire that cools, earth that melts, air that is frozen solid and water that burns, and an ancient temple to the Divine Reflections in a city to the South.
[sblock=Xobra]
You step out on to the land, taking your first breath of air in six years. Before you is a large city, one you have been seeing in your dreams. This is not the land of your birth, so you have no reference point to know what the city is. But your Patron has apparently released you from his service and sent you to the surface, promising more power if you continue to work for him on the surface world. For the last six years, your patron has been training you with what seems to be a fervent need, as in preparation for something, though he never answered your questions as to what.
Every now and then, you have a dizzy spell. It only lasts a moment, but it is happening more frequently. At first, it was once a month. Now it is more like once a week. Your patron will not acknowledge you when you ask about it. Of course, this happens often, as if the thing simply doesn’t hear questions it doesn’t want to answer. [/sblock]
[sblock=Vimak]
The dreams disturb you. You tell your tribe’s shaman, but many do not believe you. One old one, however, comes to you one night, telling you ancient legends extending back to when the Aarakocra lived in the Plane of Air, about a corruption that the Aarakocra helped fight off and contain. He believes that the answers to why you are having these dreams lies in the ancient site of Elemental Harmony, but this place was lost many centuries ago, after the Mirrored Temple took hold. Your dreams, however, have been of a particular city to the south, the city of Albion, and perhaps your search should begin there. [/sblock]
[sblock=Jord]
In your dreams, you can hear the voice of the Reflection of the Divine you most closely associate with. It is distant, feint, as if struggling to talk to you, but you can feel their power flowing in to you as they speak, calling you a “Child of Earth”. They tell you of a city to the south, where ancient troubles are stirring, and show you an old Temple to the Reflections deep in the city, almost forgotten by those around them. What you are to do there is not said, but the urgency is unmistakable. [/sblock]
[sblock=Lola]
You’ve been caught. In the middle of a long con, an old mark showed up out of nowhere and recognized you. This forced you to leave the city you were in and make for the Midwest.
On the way, you started having the dreams. In the dreams, you saw a temple in a large city to the south, and you recognize the city as Albion, because of the mixture of human and elven architecture, and dwarven masonry. It is the pinnacle of technological advancement, and therefore one that has very few, if any, magic and magic users. Could be dangerous, but then again, fewer people will be expecting magic. Could be fun? [/sblock]
[sblock=Nacay]
You have been changed. Altered. You have been wandering the world since the…incident, and are trying to figure out who, and what, you have become. You have become incredibly attune to elemental magic, and can feel a disturbance to the south, almost like a signal emanating from a certain city. It feels…familiar. The chaos, the turmoil, is a mirror of what you have become. It may have answers for you. Answers you need. [/sblock]
[sblock=Theremin]
The monks of your order are disturbed. The elder monks can feel an alteration in the very nature of the elements, though it is so small as to cause little effect. They are worried that something is happening to the Planes, but nobody has traveled to or from the planes for centuries, ever since the Temple of Elemental Harmony was lost.
The source of this problem seems to be in a city to the south, called Albion, the center of technological enlightenment. It is a multicultural hub, the center of this new industrial age. Something there is connected to these disturbances, and they have elected you, as an Avariel, to act as their agent in searching out this disturbance and helping to correct it in any way you can. [/sblock]
Albion is divided into four basic sections: the Factory District up north, where many people work; the Temple District to the west, which is also home to the city’s governmental buildings; The docks and market district is to the east, and the upscale district to the south, where the rich hob nob. Lower priced residential areas pockmark the city.
You have each entered the city at the same time, and managed to find the same tavern, The Frosty Blaze. The tavern is located in the market district. It’s a rather large one, with some patrons gambling in one corner, a fully stocked bar, and a number of rooms upstairs. The bartender is a portly man with rosy cheeks, who lazily serves the drinks to whoever asks, more intent on conversation than making sales.
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