Power corrupts, so absolute power must corrupt absolutely. And perhaps if you lost that power suddenly, as suddenly as a knife in the back, you would do anything to get it back, even generations later…?
Clouds, dark and ominous, spat rain into the rider’s face. Even the hood, pulled low enough to hide his nose, failed to shield him as his horse, a fine, foam flecked bay, flew down the dark road. On either side, huge trees spread their branches down to the ground, casting shadows that skittered and jumped before the lightning that crashed in the sky.
The rider, cursing, urged his mount on, and the horse, muscles straining and whites showing, obeyed. They surged round a sharp bend, and, quite suddenly, the tall walls of a fort, grey and gleaming beneath the rain, reared up before them.
The rider leant back on his reins, and the bay nearly sat down, eyes rolling in fear as another bolt of lightning cracked the clouds. From one of the towers, a soldier leaned out. He peered through the night at the rider, and shouted down to him.
The rider waved with one hand, face tilting back as he yelled a reply. The wind snatched his words, but the soldier seemed satisfied. He vanished back into his turret, and, with a groan, the stern black gates swung open wide enough to allow the rider to pass through.
In the courtyard, the rider leaped swiftly from his horse, handing the shying creature to a stable boy who blinked away the rain and backed quickly into the shelter of the hay shed. The rider didn’t run, but his long strides carried him with equal speed to the back door of the kitchens.
Stepping into the warm glow, he sighed in relief and leant against the counter. A maid, fetching a bucket of steaming water from the fire, startled and nearly spilt her cargo. Looking away, she hurried up a flight of stairs, footsteps ringing loudly in the apparently silent house.
Moments later, a heavier pair of feet came creaking down, and a tall man loomed in the dark of the stairwell. “Back so soon?”
The rider paused in the action of removing his gloves. “All is done, and you know as well as I that I must be seen to have been here, where I should be.”
“Indeed,” a pause, and a sharp glance up the stairs. “You were not followed?”
“I was,” the words were spoken quietly.
“And you lead them here? Imbecile!” anger flashed across the tall man’s shadowed features.
“You should have more faith, father,” the rider’s hand fell to his sword. “I did the necessary.”
A conciliatory smile. “Of course. My apologies.”
The rider nodded, seemingly satisfied. “All we can do now is wait. The wedding is in three days.”
A soft laugh. “This is so easy. Are you sure all is well?”
The rider smiled, teeth gleaming from his hood. “Oh yes, all is well. We shall see them die, father, every last one of them.”
My inspiration for this game is Game of Thrones, so be prepared for plenty of blood, gore, and political intrigue.
The only race, so to speak, is humanity. And though mythical creatures, magic, and genuine gods do exist, they are considered legend by most.
Also, if you wish to be involved in all the scenes, you will need to pick your character carefully, based on where the story is. For example; no gardeners when the current characters are fighting their way through freezing mountain ranges.
This will hopefully be the first game in a series, and the game will remain open to new characters all the way through.
I ask you give me intricate bios, and, if you wish to see the various maps and docs, emails (or another means of sending them to you).
I also ask, that, should you join, you read everything that has been written so far, or pick a character that would not know.
NOTE: I mistakenly picked ‘Fanstasy Classic’, and cannot seem to block the cards the world provides during character creation. Hence, if you pick an unsuitable one, I shall have to ask you to change it.
Hosted and narrated by:
Scenes played: 6
License: Community License