Introduction to Volume One

It is a world of shadows and a world of light that brings forth the thin grey line which shrouds our judgement; do we follow a path meant for glory, to bring us a final ecstasy of joy from our acts... or do we seek death, chaos and selfish desires for a simple meaning in our existence? This is the world of Tareila... a world where the shadows and the light meet over a great continent with lush forests, rolling hills and vast ranges of mountains reaching into the sky; a world where places of insipid evil can lurk even in the brightest of cities, hidden with veils of clever deception and magical glamour. This is a world where magic reigns over metal, but where the ideas and crafts of the people themselves rise up to the challenge made by magic... where those who believe those without the Gift are lesser folk, and those who tinker with cogs and metal make tools to fill in the gaps magic can not. Welcome to a world of darkness and light, my friends. Welcome to Tareila.

The Background: Caeresta, the Aristocracy, and the Braedin Family

Our story begins at the dawn of the Third Age of Caeresta; the largest, strongest civilisation known across the continent of Tareila. For centuries they have been the self-proclaimed rulers of the land, forming an aristocratic government of noblemen through the right of blood birth, and noblemen through the coins of a heavy purse. Those with either are given respect among the masses, and those with both are Lords and true "nobility" to all beneath them. At the head of this aristocracy is the Braedin Family; corrupt to the core with desire for coin and power, they put a strong hand upon all those who are beneath them, though the lesser nobility find the hand of the family to be less painful. The Braedin family have some of the best soldiers men can buy and train, although they rely heavily on mercenary scum - after all, why waste perfectly good trained men when you can waste the lives of people you hardly care about?

The Caerestians live in great luxury wherever there is a strong aristocratic presence - both in nobility and soldiers - but where the noble "blooded" are sparse, the people are gathered in small homes, on the edge of the border where few soldiers patrol and many threats can reach them. Yes, the soldier's employed by the aristocracy - the Arm of Caer - do make routine visits to the border lands, but they only do so perhaps three times in the full year and only more often when a threat emerges to the power of the Braedin family.

The man leading this "great" family is Lord Alhart Gerosa Braedin, a man of middling years with a fine, well groomed appearance if a few pounds over weight. He was the Captain General of the Arm of Caer for fifteen years, and took his rightful place as the Head of the Family when his father suddenly took ill and later died - the healers unable to treat his ailment. However, years of serving in the military did not weaken the family urge to gain power by any means: if anything, it only strengthened it. His iron fist over the army gives him power to control most of the minor families, and brings fear among any of the major families from rebelling against him. He is not a bad leader, however; his rulership has brought a form of peace across Caeresta - for the time being.

[font=Arial]Those from Caeresta are usually either nobility or citizens. Many find the opportunity to gain work and act in service for many of the minor families, although they are always dragged into the political game among them... if not working the game themselves. The further out from the capital you are, the worse the living conditions and the greater the likely hood of being a citizen or even a serf... a slave. Nobility are always taught to use a dueling blade, and always carry one with them, as dueling is perfectly legal within certain class restrictions. Citizens can learn the sword, but may only carry one during war time. Serfs are very rarely trained to fight, and are not allowed to bear arms unless at the front of an army as a peasant force.

A good comparison is to consider the Caeresta as a reconnaissance civilisation, with the nobles in fine clothes and dueling swords, with the commoners using more crude, simple "normal" weapons and wearing simply-made clothes. Magic is still within the culture, only its more based around the old arcane system (reading from books and incanting the right phrases) though such practices are rare[/font]

Background: Boar'khan, the Clans, and the Heiga Tribe

to the east, across a vast plain of open fields with patches of woodlands, lakes and quarries, far from the reach of the Braedin Family, lie the Boar'Khan Mountains - it is here where the Boar'Khan live and rule. These are not the formal, clean, presentable folks of Caeresta; they live in the mountains, relying on the wildlife, on fauna and luck to guide them through their life. There, you are either one of the Clan, or you are dead - there is no middle ground for those who wander the faded paths and travel the harsh roads leading across the mountains through to the ocean. At the head of this crude nation, the Heiga Tribe claim lordship over any and all who roam the lands and call themselves Kinsman to the Clan. The Clan has the respect of all people, and breaking an oath to any person - regardless of their tribe - is breaking with the Clan. In the wilds, the Clan is all one has to trust in for survival and life.

The Boarkin live in simple homes, either made directly into the rocks of the mountains with simple materials or inside caves that have been cleaned to make "suitable" for living in. the different tribes live separately from each other, but not so far as they are unable to contact one another should danger or good word need to be passed along post haste. It is also among the tribes that - rarely - the art of shamanistic magic occurs. Those that show this talent are given instant respect and privileges over many of the Kinsmen, though never above a tribe leader or the lord of the Boarkin. Otherwise, most people are simple people trained in what the tribe needs, or in rare occasions, what the child wants to be.

The one who leads this ragged nation of wild people is Farvon Heiga, a man in his mid thirties who single handedly bested five men in combat, and in so doing proved himself as the strongest, greatest warrior among men in the mountains. He tries to bring the people together in an attempt to form a true nation, and every time he fails; it is not his fault, however. Many tribe leaders want to keep the lives they have, and the power they possess, and while Farvon is a powerful man, he does not hold a grip among the older, "wiser" leaders.

[font=Arial]Boarkin have a simple lifestyle of either being a person who provides for the clan, or someone who is respected. The providers are usually every other job needed in life; cooks, hunters, builders etc. The respected are either skilled warriors, leaders and advisors, or the shamans. The shamans are rare among the Boarkin - perhaps as many as one in a thousand - but their power, once it blooms, is beyond reckoning at the cost of their youth and their strength.

A good comparison is to consider barbarian-style tribes, with strong warriors and hunters majoritively throughout the society, and the rare powerful shamans occassionally emerging from the villages.[/font]

Background: Kalimath, the Crafters, and the Lord Chancellor

To the south of Caeresta, across a lake spanning forty miles called the Kaliesta Sea, is a nation unlike the others; a place where noise from cogs turning and metal grinding is familiar and often... so much that when its citizens leave to explore, they see the world as too quiet by comparison. It is here, in the land of Kalimath, that the world of technology reigns over a population that is - in comparison to caeresta - a dream world. Gadgets as small as cogwork watches and automative carriages driven by bidepal clockwork men, to the steam-powered flying machines and weapons exist here, and are up for sale by anyone who can purchase them. Of course, that is the problem; their designers and crafters charge so much that most people spend half their lives earning the basic funds to acquire them, and it is there that this nation collapses on itself towards its people.

The capital is half above ground in tall buildings held together with complicated ferry tunnels and lifting platforms, and the other half is beneath the ground where the miners, forgers and dangerous work to maintain the resources needed to keep the city running live. Here, to be a crafter and a designer is the norm for a Kaliman; wars fought with ten foot tall mechanical men wielding steam-powered rifles and melee tools. However, the further away from the capital you are, the more like the Caerestian cousins they become. Yes, technology is still better there than their northern neighbours, but with the threats around them the the lack of a real army to patrol for them, people often find themselves taking up arms they have made to defend themselves against attackers.

Leading he revolutionary society of builders and thinks is the Lord Chancellor Argus Timmerson. The man who created the "Black Hammer" clockwork/steam rifle for the mechanical soldiers, he is considered to be among the best designers of military arms in their lifetime. from his office close to five hundred feet above the ground, he sits and reads reports and reviews of new technologies and old ones being remodeled. However, while he is the leader, he does very little leading himself; he is a thinker and a builder, but lacks the knowledge to lead people towards better things. So, as the nation grows in technological power, the people suffer with stagnation and ever growing oppression through ever-increasing taxes to keep the cities running.

[font=Arial]the Kaliman rely on the technology more than on old world knowledge; why spend ten minutes smacking rocks over wood for fire when a simple gadget can do the same within seconds? Explorers and wanderer's are typically gun-slinging individuals who sell their skills (and sometimes their tools) to survive in the wild outside of their familiar surroundings. Those within the cities are generally designers, crafters or even mech-pilots - men and women who operate the more complicated mechanical men, though very few of these are now around with the creation of self-operating mechanical men.

I suppose a good example is to think of a strange industrial revolutionised society, but where clock-work machines and steam-power is greatly used in everything - even steam-powered melee weapons with chain edges, clock-work operated automatic guns, and small walker-machines are often play toys of the Kalimans[/font]

Background: the Dangers of the World of Tareila

There are many dangers in the world, besides those within the confines of the territories of the three great nations; roaming creatures of instinctual intelligence but great power; cults of worshippers to the old ways, and much worse.

The Jurah; a large, free roaming group of people from Caeresta who have decided that enough is enough of the aristocracy, and they have chosen to take their homeland from the fat, corrupt nobility and change the way the world is run in their eyes... change it to something better. Some think they would simply replace one poor government for another... others believe they are a scourge across the land... and some believe they are Caeresta's hope.

The Ilar; ravenous, wild, dangerous beasts, believed by the Boarkin to be remnants of the old world nightmares, but known to the Caerestian aristocracy as a mistake created by magic once borne in their homeland, and now they are simply roaming nightmares. These vicious animals which roam the plains across all the lands are hyenas the size of lions, with spiked tails and a seemingly endless taste for the blood and flesh of their prey... living or dead. they are devourers of bodies, and while none have ever seen females or young, there always seem to be more of them even after hunters exterminate whole packs of them.

The Granka; a strange, twisted humanoid of little intelligence, these are massive, twelve foot grey-skinned creatures that exist in the mountains and are often found attacking the Boarkin, though in solitude they are easily contended with. They strength and vitality, however, still makes them deadly to even the strongest, quickest warrior if they don't see them coming. They have been seen in all the lands, though more often in the mountains.

The Story Begins:

The world has great tales to tell to all who venture through its time; here and now, the story of this age begins... in the city of Eastren. This city, two miles across and circular in design, was once a small fortress made by the Caerestians during the early days of the Second Age, when they were enemies of the Kalimans. When their war ended, the city was turned into a mutual and neutral trading post... over the centuries, the fort grew in size, accommodating the quickly growing populace until it reached the size it has today. Here, people from Boar'Khan, Caeresta and Kalimath trade and commute often to share resources, stories and drink. Sometimes, they find solace in the comfort that they know peace in their time, while some can tell tales of the nightmares beyond their nation's grasp. It is here that the story of the Third Age begins... welcome to Tareila... welcome to Eastren.

[font=Arial]For those who wish to join in, you can be from any nation though you don't have to be aligned with any faction or group. Obvious perks include potential for status, magical power or technological dominance depending on where you come from. The plot will be introduced, though whether or not you follow it is your choice - especially if you create your own![/font]

[font=Century Gothic]Traeden Riasna entered the city of Eastren, his long gold-gilded crimson cloak helping to keep the winds off his back and fine clothes. He had travelled only a few times from Caeresta, and none of them led him this far away from his people. His ran his hand through his short golden hair, his jade eyes taking in the sight of a city not like the ones he was used to: it was quite poor looking, though much had been spent to keep it maintained. The people were common enough from what he had seen, and that was one thing he had to get used to being so far away from home. His family sent him out here to learn about the world away from the comfort of servants and soldiers... his entire life he had been prepared and trained to fend for himself should a time ever come that he must match blade against blade, and while he was still young at the age of twenty, he was a competent bladeslinger. He sighed at the sight of the city, and mulled over whether or not coming to this place was the best idea his father, Cadaeus Riasna, decided upon for his venture into the world outside of Caeresta.

He took slow steps into the city, taking in what he could that he might have to consider important; a reasonable-looking Inn called The Ocean Restive... an odd name, certainly, but it was a place where he could allow himself to stay should he find no better place within the protective walls of this once fort-city. He glanced in the direction of the market place, seeing small stalls at the side of the road offering poultry trinkets to those who could not afford true items of worth. This was certainly the end of the world from where Traeden was standing from, and yet this was only a taste of what awaited him in the vast beyond of Caeresta[/font]

[Master Traeden Raisna, Second son of Cadaeus Riasna of the minor noble family Riasna, skilled swordsman of the Rapier and the Longsword.]

Rokaan ran through the streets, running from someone probably lost way back in the crowd somewheres. His nimble body was able to dart through the crowd and avoid those in his path. He knew it was stupid to do, but he couldn't pass the chance up. In his hands he held a few rare necklaces made in this town, managing to do a quick grab and run from one of the vender's stalls on the other side of the marketplace. The necklaces were one of a kind. In other words, no two looked alike. Magic was used to shape the metal, and the gem that rested in the middle, giving it a unique shape. But what made it really valuable was the gem in the middle. They are said to have magic stored inside of it, and they never kept the same color for long. The color constantly shifted, using every color imaginable, and then some.


Hearing a shout from behind him, he glanced back for a split second, to look right into the chest of someone. All he saw was golden hair and a red cloak as he plowed into this person, knocking them both onto the ground. Slowly sitting up after a second of being stunned on the ground, his ears twitched upon his head as he looked at the person he ran into, immediately recognizing the Caerestian. His tail stopped swaying from the excitement of his grab when he realized who it was he ran into, and how more skilled they were than him.

Rokaan grew up in certain circumstances, as being something not born into this world. He was created really, by magic. He wasnt actually small, he looked like a normal human, with the exception of the cat-like ears sticking out of the top sides of his head, The slender tail sticking out from the back of his pants, and his yellow eyes.


Aside from inheriting certain looks of a feline, he also inherited some of their abilities, being able to climb real well and able to climb exceptionally well are just a couple of items. Being forced to live off the streets in Eastren, he learned the place very well, more than most.



Looking at the man, he saw the necklaces he had in his hands just moment ago laying a couple feet away. A shout rang out not too far away, and before the Caerestian had a chance to do anything else, he grabbed the necklaces and darted off once again, and disappearing down a side street. Seconds later two men came up, looking like merchants. "Damn it, he got away. What are we supposed to do now, those were our last three for the month, at least till the damn Arts Chapter can get another shipment of Rulite from the mines."

The other man stood just behind the first, looking off in the direction the Neko ran off in. "That is if the shipment can make it through this month."

[font=Century Gothic]A small, quick fellow barged into him with deft agility, knocking Traeden straight off his feet. It took a moment for him to recover from the sudden speed of the attack, but with his regained senses he realised that it was a simple street urchin of thievish qualities, carrying goods in one of his hands that seemed stolen - especially as his perceptive eyes glanced over both the complexion and attire of the fiendish attacker. Trying to rise to his feet, the urchin ran off through the streets, but before Traeden could take flight in pursuit, the young villain was out of sight of both himself and - presumably from his reaction - the person he had stolen from. 'Damned thievery is too common this far out, it seems.' A man nearby came over and quickly tried to offer him something to clean the dirt from his clothes.

'No, keep to yourself. Tis only clothes, easily replacable. The offer is...' he gave the simple man a brief glance, 'appreciated. Back to your business.' With a poor excuse for a bow, he and many of the other onlookers returned to their former activities, leaving Traeden standing there curious as to how such a place rife of criminals can function beyond a week, let alone the years it has stood here.

'Damn it, he got away. What are we supposed to do now, those were our last three for the month, at least till the damn Arts Chapter can get another shipment of Rulite from the mines. That is if the shipment can make it through this month.' Hearing the brief words, Traeden turned to the speaker and gave a slight bow.

'Perhaps I can ask, what do you mean by "if" the shipment gets through this month? Surely the militia is capable of protecting any convoys getting through?' Traeden had heard poor rumours of failed escorts for supplies to the outer regions, and his own father had mentioned that mercenary work such as guarding Rulite convoys was common in teh wilder lands, but to actually hear such things was disturbing.[/font]

{OOC: Sorry I've not posted recently... kinda got swamped}

Rhitur blended into the crowd very easily, completely forgotten by the average passerby. His heavy boiled leather armor, daggers, and money pouch were very well hidden under very raggedy clothing, so well in fact that even cutpurses were not paying him any attention. Of course the thin sword strapped to his back and distinct scars scattered across exposed skin probably helped them overlook him. Sure pickpockets were brave, but not brave enough to try to take from a hardened mercenary. Having just finished a contract and awaiting another, he was wondering around the city looking for the Caerestian that had come into town - he might be able to pull out a better offer from that man then the others he was getting. Plus, it wouldn't be the first time a Caerestian hired a mercenary, whether as a bodyguard, assassin, thief, or on the rare occasion, as a trainer.

It really didn't take long to spot the man - his gold and blood red cloak stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd of browns. Rhitur quickly made his way over to the man, walking up behind the Caerestian just as the man was asking something of two merchants, "...'if' the shipment gets through this month? Surely the militia is capable of protecting any convoys getting through?"

Before either merchant could respond, he said, "I wouldn't trust any militia to protect a chair much less a convoy of merchandise." He moved around so he could get a better view of the Caerestian. Looking the man up and down briefly, he continued, "The militia are as bad as the bandits out here. Even if you don't trust mercenaries to be loyal to you, we will do what we are contracted to do for the sake of our reputation."

[font=Century Gothic]Traeden turned to the speaker behind him, glancing at perhaps one of the most scarred and marred men he had ever encountered in his life - he had met soliders of Caerestia many times, some bearing the odd wound from battle, but never such a sight for eyes as the haggard warrior before him. Militia, a burden? I would never believe... his mind wandered from the thought, recalling that he had rarely seen any of the Militia sent from the capital perform so much as a civil duty for the people, and had never seen one wounded and bearing scars like marks of honor such as this man obviously did.

'Well, good fellow, I've only recently arrived out here in the... borders of the land, and I have a great deal to learn. But I have a fair hand with the blade, and I think,' he continued, looking back at the merchant, 'that I could lend that hand in the protection of the convoy.' He gave a slight glance to the man behind him, and nodded his head slightly towards him. 'And I'm sure that with a little effort, more able bodied folk could be gathered to ensure safe passage.'