[cedertree]

((I was going to have a basic layout of the setting when I thought “How boring. I am going to start them off with a story.” Please use your imagination however you want to add to the lore of the land))
How about a story?
As you know there are many kingdoms that cover the Earth, but none as prosperous as our lands of Omnixia. Our story begins in a little village on the border of Omnixia, it has long been forgotten which border village. There lived a family named the Bornabrecs. The Bronabrecs family was a wealthy family that oversaw almost all of the trade in the village. Most would’ve said they were very proper. However, every family has it’s share of skeletons in the cupboard and most of the time those skeletons find their way out. The Bornabrecs’ troubles started when Mrs. Bornabrecs gave birth to twins. Now the thing about the Bornabrecs, they had roots in magic. Now magic back then was legal but highly frowned upon. Magicians were seen as thieves and lairs. Twins often have stronger links to magical roots. This worried Mr. Bornabrecs for sure, but I am sure he thought he could keep a lid on it. The first twin, Aria, was beautiful and intelligent. She always seemed to look at the world with a different view. Her younger brother, Jarad, was rash and brute. He always did his best to out do his sister at everything. These two young Bronabrecs would have lived quiet lives had it not been for their grandmother, who to Mr. Bornabrecs dismay was staying with the family. Their grandmother used to actively practice magic. She used to tell the children stories of the olden days when magic was more common, in spite of their father’s hatred for such tales. It didn’t take long before she was teaching the children basic magic. Then as the children grew older along with their grandmother, it came time for her to pass down the family relic. Family relics used to be common in magical families. It would be passed down from generation to generation, boosting it’s owner’s abilities. She could not pass it on to her own son because he would most certainly destroy it. So she chose to pass it on to Aria, much to the envy of Jarad. For a while it seemed there was a rift between the siblings that was more than rivalry. But time heals all wounds, or so it would seem. The two reaching adulthood agreed to work together to study magic and develop their skills. After some time others joined them, students if you will. At first this was ghastly to the public but things quieted down. Such peace does not last long. A darkness came over Jarad, a unquenchable greed. Taking almost half of the students with him he separated from his sibling. Only whispers survived the time before the war. One day like any other, peaceful and calm, Jarad’s students attacked the residence of Aria and her students. Aria quickly struck back. Thus begun the horrible war that tore apart this kingdom for so long. Finally the last day dawned. Jarad’s forces of trained disciples surrounded Aria and her followers. There was more drops of blood than one could count spillt that day. But not a single soul that was there would forget the moment when Jarad got a hold of his sister. He didn’t just kill her, he destroyed her. Finally the object he had craved for so long was his. The relic would be his. But Jarad did not think to check for any curses laid by sister on the relic. It is unknown what happened to Jarad but there was a painful cry and a figure seen using magic to flee the battle. Jarad was never seen again. His followers were still bloodthirsty but without a leader. They turned their attention to the capital. On their way though they slaughtered a particularly royal looking maiden. This turned out to be the former queen. Upon hearing this news the king despaired greatly. He called for help from all the surrounding kingdoms and they answered. Together they defeated Jarad’s followers. The king promptly outlawed magic under penalty of death. And thus began the age of rebuilding in Omnixia.
So dear reader, how will your own tale effect this great land? Will you seek to rebuild it or destroy it? Will you take a liking to the old ways or become a witch hunter? Or perhaps something completely unexpected? The future of this kingdom is clay and your generation must take it’s turn at forming it.

[DolimiccanDragon]

Removed for Godding. No deities please.

From Cedertree

[BlueMoon]

And now for a story of a girl who was raised by the trees:

The woes of the land that were brought on by magic bestowed a great fear into the heart of a woman who was with-child. When she gave birth to a daughter, she was always afraid that the girl would be cursed with the gift of magic. This fear brought out much paranoia and if anything unusual happened around the baby girl, a cold dread fell over her body. The woman could no longer contain her fears when the baby girl sneezed and a young plant grew to bloom before any buds had formed. In a fit of screams and tears, the woman wrapped the baby girl in a blanket and ran to the forest outside of her village. Sobbing, she placed the baby girl in a pile of leaves and ran away as fast as she could, leaving behind the memory of the great burden that had been placed upon her.

Luckily for the baby girl, an old woman lived in a small cottage in the forest. She had grown weary of the politics of mankind and wished to spend her last days in isolation with the power and beauty of the natural world. She heard the cries outside of her home and went in search of the irregular noise. When she scooped the baby girl up in her arms, she felt the spirits of the forest dance happily around her. What seemed to be regular trees started moving in closer to the old woman and the baby girl, curious to see what has entered their home. “Well, my friends” said the old woman, “We seem to have a guest”. The old woman named the baby girl Folla.

The old woman taught Folla all she could. She taught the girl how to speak, how to understand the language of the forest, she read the girl old stories and showed her the magic all the books on her shelves contained. The old woman recognized the gift of magic within Folla. She saw how the plants would dance to her laughter. She saw how Folla could manipulate the vines into crawling up the rocks. Even though the old woman wished to keep herself hidden from the world of man, she showed Folla the paths of the forest that lead to the villages outside. The old woman knew she did not have much time before she would become one with the earth, so she showed Folla how to go where others of her kind lived. When Folla was five, the old woman died a quiet death. Her soul joined the spirits of the forest. Folla cried for the woman who she called Gran, but she knew she would not be alone. She had the forest to keep her company.

Not all the trees of the forest were ordinary. Some had the ability to move and speak. Some could see the world like man sees it. The tree people, or Ents, took care of Folla after Gran had died. What the old woman could not teach her, the Ents did. Folla grew to learn how the forest survived. She learned how different plants and objects that the forest provided could be combined to help or hurt the surrounding environment. She learned how to work with the spirits of the forest to use the magic that rested within her. Folla was curious of her own kind, and what she couldn’t learn from the Ents she learned from sneaking into the villages and observing the people who occupied them. She would hide outside of schools and listen to the lessons that were being taught. The only time she interacted with the people of the villages were when she would sell them potions she had created with the spoils of the forest.

I now leave you with Folla, who is now a young woman.

Folla sat on a stump reading one of the many books Gran had left behind. She brushed her long, wild curly blonde hair out of her face. Her hair had some hints of green throughout it, a side affect of interacting so often with the spirits of the forest. She’s a petite girl, and her big brown eyes concentrated on a few rocks that laid in front of her. She read a little more from her book, and then placed her hands above the rocks and mumbled a few words. Light shone from her hands and a bright flash lit up the trees around her. When the light faded, the rocks had become one translucent green rock that glowed slightly. She took this rock and inserted it into the top of a large walking stick that laid beside her. When she was finished, she held up her new staff and smiled at the job she had completed.

[Tartarus]

((Clarice is a living doll, in case that was unclear, shes about 5 ft tall and can move about as easily as a human.)) An impossibly lovely girl stands beside an enormous roaring fire, clutching her thin shawl in a perfect imitation of the shivering people around her. The flames lick and dance around the growing pile of magical items. Relics, wands, books, charms, all are destroyed, just in case their power might be used against the empire. The onlookers, common and powered alike, are subdued, grateful that, for now, no people have been forced to join their belongings in the pyre. Clarice, that is the girl’s name, watched with perhaps a little more fear than the others. Her pale, slender hands gripped her shawl tensely, the tight but well-made joints groaning at the effort, as the flames glimmered in her blue glass eyes. This close to the fire, her smooth porcelain skin took on a slight warmth, enough to pass for living, and her eyes took a lively sparkle from the dancing flames. But even so, even with so much practice, she could never quite mimic a human, never quite pass her perfect face or perfect body for mere good fortune. Always, people noticed her, so always she had to keep moving.
Clarice had a home once, and a family. She remembered when she’d arrived, remembered waking to the paint streaked face of a tired man, who wore a moth eaten suit and a proud smile. Who held out a hand to her as she stood for the first time, and lead her to a family, a wealthy, elegant couple and a shy frail girl. He had told them she was made of the finest materials; unbreakable china, real hair, and very strong magic, to insure that she would keep her youthful energy for a very, very long time. And it was a long time, it really was. Magic had been legal back then, encouraged even in some fields (such as toy making) and the girl was but a toddler, barely tall enough to hold Clarice’s hand. In the years that followed, the pair would become inseparable. The girl, Victoria, grew older, but sicker, and shyer. And often while the parents were involved in the state affairs that come with being a wealth noble family, Clarice was the only friend at her side. They spent long hours enthralled in tea parties, hair braiding, dress up, and pillow forts. Courting imaginary princes and attacking imaginary pirate ships, and truly, though Clarice would never grow old, she did grow to love her Victoria.
It all came to a rather abrupt end, when the queen was killed and magic suddenly banned. Soldiers came to every house, taking anything with even a hint of magic, regardless of how harmless or trivial it might be. Self stirring pots, books on color change spells, everything had to go. Victoria, now 11 years old, was in tears as she hurried Clarice out the back door, sneaking her onto a departing trader’s wagon. The girl removed her necklace, her favorite one with the gold peacock pendant, and gave it to the doll, making her promise to not try to come back, to find somewhere safe. She’d wandered from one town to another ever since.
Clarice sighed, one hand straying to the necklace that still hung at her throat, as the soldiers asked if there were any other remaining items. A pair of large, strong hands suddenly grabbed Clarice by the shoulders, startling her. “Hey. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out in the cold?” The soldier behind her smiled as she spun around to face him, he couldn’t be more than twenty. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was just passing through… Er, goodbye” The man looked like he was going to protest, but she slipped away with a small apologetic smile and made her way back to the main road that lead to the next town in this densely forested area.

[DolimiccanDragon]

Removed for godding and multiverse.
-Cedertree

[naga5000]

I sighed as I closed the book I had been reading. This was one of those times that it was just terrible to be a mage. Especially an untrained one. I slipped out the window, anticipating the reutn of my abusive mother. Ever since dad helped her have me and left, she’d pretty much disowned me. Aside from the constant attacking me. I just couldn’t understand why though, seeing as I was the one keeping the money flowing in the household. I even left gifts on the table whenever I went out. I walked along the branch of a tree, adjusting my cloak against the sudden chill. I knew they were burning everything magic somewhere nearby, but I didn’t want to go near it. I hopped to the ground and set off for the surrounding forest, hoping to get some mandatory training in. Even without a teacher I managed to perfect the most basic of spells, not much of an accomplishment but one nevertheless.

I used a checking spell to make sure no one was around, before pulling out some notes I kept stashed in my hidden pocket. I read them over twice before starting the invisibility spell. This one was taking me a long time to even succesfully do. I would always turn partially invisible, not the best way to avoid attention. I concentrated hard on my hand-made wand, probably one of the worst in the world, but still capable of tapping into the hidden energy around me, and began to mutter the spell.

[cedertree]

An old man finishes telling a child a bed time story. The boy is tucked into his bed. He looks sleepily up at the old man. “Is that why soldiers keep searching our house Grandpa? They think we use magic?” The old man smiles warmly at the child as he blows out the candle and starts his way out of the room.”They are scared my dear child. People always do strange things when they are scared” The child blinks. “But Grandpa, I remember you doing magic on my birthday a few years ago.” The old man pauses at the door, a little pale. “That was just a trick. Just simple movement with my hands” “Can you show me it again?” The old man’s smile returns. “Not now, you need to sleep. I might do it for you in the morning if you stay asleep” With that, the old man exits the room and closes the door behind him.

There siting in a chair in the main room is a young man, running his hands through his ginger hair. As the old man approaches, the younger man gives a disappointed look. “You can’t be telling him stories of the days before the war father. We can’t be filling the boy’s head with thoughts like that” The old man returned the disappointment. “Why? What harm will it do? The boy must know who he is if he is going to properly live in this world?” The younger man stood up and said “Who he is, is my son. I say that none of that nonsense gets into his head.” “You didn’t always think it was nonsense” the old man quickly replied. “The solders came here to search the house for the third time today! There is only one reason they would search a house this far out in the woods that much. They know of our history and they know they will find something!” the younger man exclaimed. “They wont find anything” the old man replied. The old man did not want to have this argument this late at night. Without another word, He left his son to his thoughts.

As his father left the room, Carter swore under his breath that he would end up being the death of all of them. Carter sighed as he again ran his hands through his hair. It was bad enough with the constant searching and book burnings. Now he had to deal with his own father telling his son tales of magic. Bringing up the war… What is that old man thinking? Carter had enough of that war. He was apart of it. He was a survivor. He would continue to survive, even if that meant throwing away what he had spent his whole life on. His son was his life now. He came first. His son and his father were all that the war left him with in the end. He needed to protect them as best as he could. But his father was working against him, putting both his child and him at risk. Carter did not know what to do. He was stressed out, beyond belief. He went out onto the porch of their cabin and looked out upon the woods. Seeing the moonlight come through the trees was always relaxing to him. He hoped that it would work tonight.

[Sky the Mongoose]

His eyes slowly crack open, made even slower by the dirt caking his eyelids making it even more difficult. Where was he? Why was he here? He was completely covered in dirt and rotting leaves, leaned against a gentle hill. As he lifts himself, the moist dirt falls from him, his faded black coat now tinted a shade of brown, in the areas that it wasn’t eaten away by moths and rot. With another blink, it all came back to his eyes.

A captain watches his crew sail his ship. He was happy, happier than ever. His own ship. He had finally achieved what he had worked for from the very moment his father first came home. He tasted the salty air, felt the sea’s wind blow against his face. He lifts a flask to his lips, drinking in an homage to his success.

A captain slices down another one of the other ship’s crew. Another raid, his eighth, but certainly not dull. He still felt the thrill, the excitement as blood splattered against his coat. The raid is successful, another load of cargo to sell, more slaves to put on the market. He lifts a flask to his lips, drinking in homage to his life.

A captain watches his crew argue. Recently, they, and the captain have gotten greedy. He shouts to silence them, and gives another speech on how much he has done for his crew. He lifts a flask to his lips, drinking to show his point is made.

A captain slices down another one of his crew, trying to break away to the dock. He bursts through the riot, wounds stinging, blood lining his coat. He runs past the port, past the town, into the woods. He lifts a flask to his lips, drinking in his sorrow as he feels himself fall to the ground.

A lost man beats the caked dirt off of him, holding back his tears, or possibly unable to, it doesn’t matter. He lifts a flask to his lips, only to find it empty.

He panics. He needs to drink. He’s so thirsty, his throat is so dry… He stumbles blindly through the woods, his eyes darting around, searching for something, something… A light appears from far away, he sees it barely through the dense woods. He whips out his cutlass, the old steel only slightly rusted. He runs, he cuts the plants in his way, bursting into the clearing where a young woman sits with a new staff. He slowly sheathes his sword, a word forcing itself through his dirty lips. “Water. Please.”

[Tartarus]

With the mossy path silencing her footsteps and no breath or heartbeat to fill her ears, Clarice could hear every small sound of the forest as though it were right beside her. The light of the army bonfire was out of sight now, the full moon and stars starting to come out to replace it in the spots where the trees’ dense foliage allowed a glimpse of the sky. Small hurried movements give hint of animals wandering through the brush just on the sides of the path.
The wind too making it’s own sound as it slithered through the wood to toy with the doll’s hair, just the smallest sparkle of magic riding with the breeze as it passed by. Clarice was not a spell caster, not by any means, but being an enchanted object meant that she could sense when there was magic in the air, and it was especially thick in this forest. She almost expected to see fairies, or a fleeting glimpse of a will-o-wisp. But no, instead she finds a girl, standing in a small clearing with some sort of baton. Clarice had to be careful which humans she spoke to, since being spotted for what she was by the wrong person could easily mean a fiery demise. But she always had a weak spot for young girls, they reminded her so much of Victoria, this one even had the same graceful posture and smile. Besides, she was doing magic, surely she wouldn’t risk reporting anything to the military. “You know…” Clarice said, stepping through the trees to the edge of the clearing “I’m told it’s dangerous to cast spells inside a fairy ring.” she pointed one daintily sculpted hand to the circle of mushrooms at the girl’s feet with a small, sheepish smile.

[BlueMoon]

Folla could hear the trees whispering to one another, but she didn’t pay much attention while she was finishing up the fusion of the stone. After she completed the construction of her staff, she started picking up some of their gossip. “…outsiders…desperate man…girl made of glass…so unusual..” Folla looked up and was about to question them when she heard a voice like bells dancing in the air. “You know, I’m told it’s dangerous to cast spells inside a fairy ring.”

Folla looked up in surprise to see a girl standing a few feet away from her. Fear shot through her, and she struggled to think of what to do. Not many people came through the forest, and when they did they would usually stick to the paths which Folla tended to avoid.

She took a moment to observe her guest. She was a pretty girl, but something was not quite right about her. She looked too perfect. She didn’t seem to have any kind of imperfections. Everything in nature had some kind of fault, but not this girl. Even though she knew the girl was unnatural, she was calmed by her presence after a few moments.

“It may be a bit dangerous, but there is quite a concentration of magic within. The spirits are drawn to them as well.” Folla explained with a weary smile on her face. The only person she really had a conversation with was Gran, aside from a few villagers she sold potions to. She searched for more words to say when she heard someone else break through the bushes and into the clearing.

Folla jumps to her feet, staff in hand, and stumbles back to where the girl is standing. The man is a complete mess. She holds up her staff in fear, looking at yet another person who has found himself in the forest. She is caked with dirt and she sees dark reddish brown stains smeared in places. Could that be blood? She gripped her staff harder, making her knuckles white when she noticed the sword in the mans hand. She struggled to think of a spell to protect herself and this other visitor.

But then the man sheathed his sword, and in a weak, gruff voice asked for water. He looked like he was about to pass out. He couldn’t possibly do much damage in the state that he was in. The naivety in her heart beckoned her to help the man though. “Here!” Folla exclaimed to the girl standing beside her, thrusting the staff into the girl’s hands. Her hand brushed the girl’s fingers as she pulled her hands away and she was surprised to feel that they were hard. “If he comes at you…just…um…whack him over the head with my staff! There’s a brook nearby, I’m going to get him some water. I fear he might die.” Folla said and ran off towards the brook.

[Sky the Mongoose]

The man’s ears don’t quite translate the words he speaks to his brain, and he raises a hand, trying to ask for a pause instead of running, but all that comes out is a hoarse breath, then a cough. He covers his mouth, coughing into his fist for what seemed like ages to him, the racks on his body forcing him to sit.

He ceases coughing after a while, opening his palm to see a small pile of dirt. How long had he been asleep, against that hill? He feels an overwhelming urge to close his eyes, but he forces them to stay open, staring at the strangely perfect figure.

[Tartarus]

“You’d better just stay put, sir.” Clarice said, edging warily toward the ragged man with the staff pointed directly at his dirty face. He’d had plenty of energy a moment ago when he burst in; this could easily be an act. After all, grown men are more dangerous to little girls than even wolves.

It was more than just the fear of being discovered that made the doll wary of the ruffian; all magical toys know it’s their vital and scared duty to both entertain and protect their child for as long as they live. And since Victoria was now far away, Clarice’s loyalty fell instead to any girl who might need her help.

“I bet the young lady is quite lethal with this, maybe she’ll show us when she returns.” Clarice said as she held the staff steady, her angelic face a stark contrast from the implied threat.

[BlueMoon]

As Folla reached the brook, she came to an abrupt halt and took a deep breath. She knelt down and scooped some of the cold water into her hands and splashed it over her face. She was overwhelmed. She was only used to interacting with the beings in the forest. And now, she has come across not one, but two strangers. Most of the time she avoided people, and watched them from afar. Lately, she’s had to hide from strange men coming through and searching the forest. Her Gran told her that people were not very accepting of magic anymore. That idea baffled Folla, for there was magic everywhere.

One of the trees started to speak with her. The branches creaked and the leaves brushed each other, pushed by the wind. “What do you mean there’s still another outsider in the forest? I’m having a hard enough time processing the ones that have already stumbled upon me!” Folla said. “Hey, don’t laugh at me. It’s not funny!”

Folla looked around for something to put water in for the man. One of the tree’s branches slowly reached down next to Folla and a large leaf blew slightly in the breeze. “Thank you” said Folla, as she plucked the leaf from the branch. She cupped the leaf and filled it with water.

As she walked back to where she left the two strangers, she hoped she was doing the right thing. Anyone that looked at her could tell that she dabbled with magic. She just had to hope that these people were not going to take her away because of that.

As she reached the clearing, she slowly walked towards the man, glad to see that the girl was still holding the staff up in defense. As she reached the man, she reached out the leaf to him and said “Here, drink this.”

[cedertree]

@Crystal_Diamond
Barnable hadn’t been on the king’s army for more than a week. He was a short, wiry fellow, with pale blond hair, and light blue green eyes. Needless to say he was very out of place among the rest of his patrol. They were all men of stature, proper soldiers. He was not made to be a soldier. He didn’t even really want to be one. But while wearing the uniform and preforming his duties, he felt closer to his brother than ever. The war stole his chance to patch things up with him. He had managed to get through the training by just the skin of his teeth. Now he was proving what the others say about him true. He was failing to keep up with the rest of his patrol. He was only a little bit behind, but it was enough to where if the commander looked back, he would have his ass for sure. Barnable’s equipment was heavy and too large for him. This made it difficult to move. All of his requests for new armor were denied. This just made his fellow soldiers laugh at him more. Barnable would bare it though, he had too. He would do this till his older brother could look upon him from the afterlife and be proud. Barnable in all of his wheezing and panting did not notice that his party had come to a stop. He almost bumped into one of the soldiers in the back. They were all staring at something, Barnable could not see over them. All of the sudden, the soldiers in front of him took off in a dash. As they moved, Barnable could see what they were chasing. It was…a disembodied head of a little girl… Barnable fainted.
((As for the rest of you, I’ll wait to post until you guys progress a little more. You guys have great interactions going and I’d hate to get in the way of that. Great job everyone. I look forward to seeing more posts from you all. I really do enjoy reading them. =) ))

[naga5000]

I looked behind me just as the soldiers began to run, cursing under my breath. Apparently I still needed more practice. I began to run, weaving through the trees as fast as someone who knew them, meaning I knew them quite well. I held my cloak close, covering my head in the vain hope that it would render me completely invisible. At best it would just make the cloak visible again, but I tried anyways.