Arga Redux (see other Arga thread)

[O Senhor Leetz]

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Arga

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The Dying World

[note=Table o' Contents]Quick mention about the table. Unfortunately, each forum post can only hold so much text, so in order to keep everything somewhat organized and uncluttered, only the first posts from each chapter are on this main page. To see more about each section, simply click on the link and enjoy.[/note]
Table of Contents
 

What is Arga?*Races and Faces*Houses of the Holy*Mountains, Oceans, and Sprawls*Serious Sundries*Sects Talk*Flaura, Fauna, and Fangs*[/list]

 

Theorized Cartography of Arga

What is Arga?
Arga is a world that's fantastic, gritty, mature, intelligent, and strange. The people of the world have a cynical and ragged air about them, as the world they live in is visually dying in front of their eyes as the years progress: seas become acrid and stormy, shorelines chip away and fall into the seas, creatures and beasts are as vicious and brutal as folk how consider themselves civilized. Everything is not what it seems - there are no pure heroes and few true villains and almost everyone is out for themselves.

Arga falls into the fantasy genre in the broadest sense. There are new, crude steam-machines and ancient, delicate clockword mechanisms. There are seas where a wave never crests and seas that are slowly emptying into the bowels of the earth. There are cities built upon the ruins of their forefathers and there are cities that are alive. Giant pack-beetles plod alongside smelly reptilian steeds through pitted roads while jury-rigged zeppelins meander through the clouds.

The magical is feared and admired, mysterious and rare. As the world dies, so too does magic, and those who wish to harness it's power scramble and search for new, dangerous to harvest what remains. Some harness the powers of dreams and shadows at the costs of their minds, while others control the entropy that crumbles the world at the cost of their bodies. Still others search the ruins of long past empires for knowledge and machines that may unlock long lost secrets.

And as the world dies, so too do it's god. Old deities are forgotten and replaced by new cults and churches as people grow desperate for protection from the impending end. Some faiths are exclusive, others inclusive. Some wish to convert every last soul, while others worry only about themselves. And some gods even walk the land of Arga itself, ruling with unrivaled might.

Arga is strange, old, and rugged - it is a world of violence, exploration, crude and dark magics, selfish gods, and heroes with an angle.

The World
A rugged and rough world, Arga is as treacherous as its inhabitants. To the north, cold, dry mountains are slowly eaten away by bone-chilling winds. The warm, milk-blue shallows of the Broken Sea hide danger in the form of fangs and teeth just below the glistening waves. Blistering suns beat down upon the cities of Illix and Pem Poxa while seemingly endless rains pour upon Rhyll. Even the sleepy green isle of Brimma holds painful and brutal death just beyond sight within its silver mists.

In the Unknown South and East, unexplored lands hold perils only dreamed of, while the jungle city of Piratua fights against the unrelenting hunger of its long-dead descendants. Strange ruins dot the face of Arga - ancient automatons lumber mindlessly across the wastes of Old Dura, monolithic tombs break up the undulating grass plain of the Vast, and the enigmatic Rings rise from the lands of the fledgling kingdom of Veldorn.

Just as the mortals of Arga harden themselves against the crumbling of the world, so too does the earth itself.

The People
Great races and civilizations once lead proud empires to heights now unthinkable. The fairy-like Eldra are now but myths, the Dura long lost to newer, darker ages. Just as the Arga braces itself for its inevitable death, so too do its children. Battle-hardened Vorr, reclusive Dura, the half-giant Norsunders, the myriad branches of Mankind, and numerous others all vie for something in Arga.

The Magic
Arga was once a beacon of constructive and near-limitless magic. Long-dead empires where built upon the whispers of spells and murmurs of rites. The empire of Old Dura breathed life into great machines, while the even more ancient Eldra shaped the lay of the land with a mere wave of a hand. In these earlier, more vital eras, there was nothing that could not be achieved.

Yet, as the world slowly died, so too did the magic that it sustained. Once common spells became rare, and soon forgotten. The most simple of cantrips devolved into the pinnacle of arcane studies. Today, magic is but a shell of what it was. Rare, dangerous, and wild, magic is feared and misunderstood, but still it whispers secrets of lost power that may still be found to those bold enough - or foolish enough - to listen.

[O Senhor Leetz]

Races and Face - The Mortal Folk of Arga

[ic=The Dura]"I traveled with this strange fellow for nearly a month, it was the voyage from Belka to Rhyll I think. Anyhow, this fellow, he was a Chanter, those small, heavy folk from the north. The guy never said nary a word the whole trip, just sat in his cabin and read this books. Strange fellow."

-Captain Wojan Veluus of the Firebellow

Nicknames: Dwarves, Chanters
Diet: Unknown
Homeland: The Holds, south of the Sea of Black Ice
Gods: Unknown Pantheon, Holy Texts

Gamemaster Information
The Dura, or as some incorrectly refer to as "dwarves", are perhaps the oldest race left in Arga. Although they only reach up to a humans shoulder (at about four and a half to five feet), they easily weigh three times as much (up to four hundred and fifty pounds). Dura have rough, dark skin and wiry hair. Perhaps their most unnerving feature is their solid, milky-blue eyes. Male Dura frequently sport full beards.

Historically, the Dura originated in the dry mountains of what is now referred to as Old Dura. For ages the Dura controlled a vast empire from their mountain holds. At the peak of Old Dura's power, armies of their machine-automatons had conquered the lands across Arga. Ancient Duran ruins can now be found anywhere between Sanctum and Pem Poxa.

The fall of Old Dura coincided with an event referred to as "The Maddening", when the machine servants of the Dura mysteriously went berserk and murdered all but a handful of their former masters. The surviving Dura fled to their current home in the Holds, which rests on a strip of rock land between the Teyrander Ocean and the Sea of Black Ice. (On a side note, the realm of Old Dura to this day is still plagued by murderous automatons and other remnants of a once great empire)

Culturally, the Dura are for the most part an isolated and reserved people. Modern Duran society is based around an anti-technological religion that focuses on carving the rocky Holds with religious texts - a theorized form of penitence for their failed empire. The Dura do not worship a pantheon as much as they adhere to ancient texts written by those who led the survivors from the death of Old Dura.

While most Dura either reside in the Holds or are loyal to them, rogue Dura, called Moru, can be found throughout Arga. They have no fear of machines like their pious brethren and often explore the ruins of Old Dura in search of lost artifacts and power.

Duran Character Archetypes

Duran Gear-Breaker - To you and your family's great honor, you have been anointed as a Gear-Breaker, a Khaza Drum as it is said in the old tongue. After decades of physical and mental training you have been found worthy and prepare to be sent out into Arga to do battle with the metal demons that once murdered your people. You have booked passage on a Merlunan trade-cog and you leave the Holds within the week. While you have little experience with the outside world, you are confident that your training, your Duran equipment, and the blessing of your gods you will succeed and survive.  

Starting Stuff - Most importantly, your family's heirloom warhammer Arazh. In addition to that, a warm cloak and traveling clothes, maps, guides, and studies of Arga and its peoples, miscellaneous items - rope, rations, a lamp, a flask of oil, sleeping gear, two vials of rust ichor, prayer beads, a cheap knife, and bag of salt.

Moru Vagabond - You left the confines of the Holds weeks into your training as a Gear-Breaker and stowed away on the first ship you found. For years you worked on various boats and in many ports learning things you never dreamed of far in the north - like the sweet, sweet taste of grog. However, fate is never kind, and recent events, specifically being an exorberant outstanding bar tab, have forced you to get out of Fell as soon as Duranly possible. With little more than what you can carry, including your wits, you once again stow away in the dead of night to an unknown port.

Starting Stuff - A half-drank jug of grog and the hangover from the night before, well-worn traveling clothes and water-proof cloak of fish scales, a crude dagger and sap, a handful of coins, and a pouch of hune-sugar - which you hope will fetch a nice price in a shady market.[/ic]

Click for more Argan goodness![/url]

[O Senhor Leetz]

Houses of the Holy - Gods, Churches, and Cults

[ic=The Red League]

Are you sick and tired of this World? Do you long for a place that's peaceful, green, and lush with the forests and trees of legend? Than join the RED LEAGUE! Only through US can you reach an ARGA of serenity and calm! Help us in tearing down the stagnant traditions and wasteful rituals of the past that keep us anchored in here in this dying World! Help your fellow man and help your World by allowing it to fulfill it's destiny! Join the RED LEAGUE today - your way to a GOLDEN AGE!

-Red League pamphlet

Gamemaster Information The Red League is a new and vigorous movement formed no more than a century ago in the slums of Merluna. Born of a mix of revolutionary fervor, cynicism, and a loss of faith in Arga, the Redlings seek to bring about Arga's death as soon as possible, but only to usher in what they believe will be a new golden age. Terrorism, riots, protests, propaganda, soup kitchens - there really isn't anything the Redlings won't do to accomplish their goal of bringing Arga closer and closer to it's demise.

Over the last hundred or so years, the ranks of the Breakers have increased immensely. When once they were merely a fringe cult, they have grown to such power and numbers that they hold council beneath the Honored Matrons amongst such luminaries as the Artificers Guild and the merchant lords of Merluna. They have even began to spread their message to other cities, creating pocket cells of prophets and propaganda across Arga. While many see the Red League as a dark and wild doom cult, it has not been difficult for them to bring into their fold the poor, the downtrodden, the dispossessed, and the tired.

A philosophical cult more than a religious one, the Red League nonetheless embraces a myriad of beigns. In fact, their own pantheon of demigods, spirits, and demons - dubbed the Red Thirteen - have grown to prominence with the cult. Included within is a once forgotten spirit of flame and rebirth, an anarchist martyr, and a ghost seer. While there is no official structure or organization to the League, the de facto leader is a man named Red-Maned Tyber. A giant of a man, the mad prophet Tyber sports a large and wild beard dyed as red as blood. Dressed in humble, if somewhat ratty, robes, Tyber is charismatic and an inspiring leader - some say demagogue - who in recent years has brought the Breaker out of the peripheral into a bigger Arga.

Those not easily swayed by the cult rumor that they are in fact a pawn for some greater and darker being, being used as a simple tool of chaos and unrest. However, the true nature of the Red League will likely stay hidden for some time to come.
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[O Senhor Leetz]

Mountains, Oceans, and Sprawls - The Places of Arga

[ic=Merluna]
Nicknames: The Red City, the Sister's City, the City of the Lovely Knives
Resources: Old Duran artifacts, wine, technical contraptions
Type: Port City
Location: Southern Argent Sea    
Leader: The Honored Matrons
Population: 450,000

Gamemaster InformationThe greatest of all the free cities, the Red City rests at the heart of Arga. An old and ancient place, modern Merluna sits on the bones of dead and forgotten cities. Great works of stone and brickwork raise the city up from the Argent Sea and lay the foundation for stout towers, labyrinthine canals, and broad bridges. Vast arcades and promenades break up the bustling and crowded maze of shops, tenements, and halls. Merluna is called the Red City for the smoldering red hue the hot southern sun shines on the city. The crest of the city is a purple flower on a red background.

The power within Merluna is held in three hands. The first is that of the Honored Matrons, the all-female 'face' of the city. More than a thousand years ago, during an era of bloody civil strife, a group of women grew tired of seeing their sons and brothers die for senseless causes and plotted a take-over of the city that took eighty-eight years to see fruition. On the Night of the Lovely Knifes - as it has become to be known - figure heads across the city were murdered by mistresses, whores, assassins, and even wives who saw this act as a means to a greater end, leaving no warring faction standing and the city in a stagnant peace.  The Honored Matrons, the secret council that plotted so meticulously for eighty-eight years soon after took power, and has ruled Merluna - at times ruthlessly and at others motherly - ever since.

The second power within the city is the Artificers Guild. A cunning and at times sinister group, the Artificers have laid claim to many great and dark discoveries in nearby Old Dura, and while many, if not all, of these finds are priceless, the Artificers have amassed a fortune in the trade of Old Duran goods. They also devote much of their energy into understanding and deconstructing the fantastic relics of Old Dura - self-filling lamps, clockwork time devices, and advanced navigation instruments are just a smattering of the minor wonders they have created on their own. But most Old Duran technology - phase-sheaths, power-crystals, automatons - still remains as a mystery to the near-mad minds deep within Artificer labs and archives. Intelligent and calculating, the Artificers also have their fingers in most if not all trade that flows in and out of Merluna. While still respectful of the Honored Matrons and the laws of the matriarchs, there are whispers that the vivid minds of the Artificers Guild plan to usurp the women of Merluna in an attempt to raise a new empire of machine and magic.

The last, and most subtle, power within Merluna is that of the House of Seven. A hidden and enigmatic sect of assassins whose skills are unmatched by any in Arga, the House not only uses articulated death to further their own shadowy goals, but they also seem to keep Merluna in a balanced state. If one faction or guild grows too strong, that organization will often and suddenly find itself short of leadership and fall back into remission. Even the Honored Matrons and Artificers fear the poisons and daggers of the House of Seven. Rumors and urban legends abound on the topic of the House - that they worship a half-goat god that revels in death and shadows, or that they serve a sorrowful but benign goddess that uses the House to eliminate certain mortals that may upset the fragile balance of Arga. Some even say that the House of Seven is in fact only one single person at anyone time. Not doubt that whatever the House actually is, its true identity will not soon be revealed.

And while the Honored Matrons, the Artificers Guild, and the House of Seven hold the most power within Merluna, there are dozens of smaller guilds, conclaves, cabals, and unions that each plot to increase their own influence within the city.

City Wards Merluna itself is subdivided into a number of wards, each being a relatively independent parcel of cityscape.

The Imp's Ward A maze of haphazard alleys, buildings, tenements, and slums, the Imp's Ward is the home to some of the lower classes of Merluna. Yet despite the inherent level of poverty, it is a relatively peaceful ward and is ruled over by the Sisters of Parchment, a particularly benevolent group of ancient Matrons, called so for their cracked and dried skin. The Imp's Ward is also particularly clean as well, as it is the home of the moon-imps, strange little creatures that live only in this particular ward who spend the day hidden in dark corners and the nights picking up garbage and refuse on the streets. If taken from their home ward, the moon-imps die in several days, eventually turning to useless dust. Many families of the Imp's Ward adopt them as pets in order to keep their homes clean. The lack of any resource has kept the rulers of other wards and the agents of darker powers out of the Imp's Ward and has allowed it to survive in simple, peaceful poverty. Some famous landmarks here include the Gentle Giant Bakery, the Burning Leaf Bar, Moon-Imp's Inn, Razor's Edge Armory, and Gallo's Way, the local black market.

Dead God's Ward: The ancient part of Merluna known as Dead God's Ward is old beyond record. The entire ward is built around, within, and on top of a giant,  monolithic cathedral, thought to have been built around the founding of the city eons ago in honor of a long lost god thought to be the creator of the race of man - now known as the Dead God. While this forgotten deity is no longer worshiped by more than a handful of hermits in the city, his grand and ancient temple is still used, but instead of being a single shrine to an omnipotent god, the foyers, halls, arcades, chapels, and even cellars of the town-sized temple are littered with hundreds, if not thousands of shrines.

Many of these shrines are built in respect to past Matrons - St. Elsa the Widower's shrine is perhaps the largest within the ward. Built at the base of former support column -as the ceiling has long since collapsed- an ornate altar of gold and onyx sits beneath the candled-covered pillar, surrounded by a myriad of offerings from the constant throng of faithful that pray at the columns base.

Another important shrine is that of St. Gheral the Suicide. A man during the time of the Lovely Knives, St. Gheral saw the wisdom in the Matrons plans and threw himself off of a tower, to spare his wife from having to murder him herself. Perched at the high atop a high mural wall, only the daring and zealous venture the perilous climb to leave an offering at the top - the rest simply leave what they bring at the base.

But there are not only shrines related to Merluna's present history, or even to Merluna at all. A shrine to a demigod knows only as the Drunkard is constantly surrounded by leaking kegs, flasks, bottles of wine, and the extremely inebriated huddles in a former cellar of the Dead God's temple. Another shrine is to that of an unnamed demon of filth and decay that wallows deep in the sewers, half-covered in excrement. Single-candled shrines, dedicated to the ancestor ghosts of a single family abound within the small places of the Ward. Yet those mentioned are only merely examples, as hundreds of shrines to hundreds of demigods, ghosts, saints, and demons sit, hide, or flaunt themselves amongst the ruins of the Dead God's Ward.

Daily life in the ward revolves entirely around the shrines. The Honored Matrons govern with a soft hand, and even the Artificers Guild is hesitant to exert too much influence, as they are rightly scared of the possible backlash of thousands of faithful. Inns and taverns provide for pilgrims and travelers, scattered markets, hawkers, and stalls sell the necessary offerings for almost every shrine - as there are whispers that in the darkest corners and crevices of the Dead God's Ward exist shrines to spirits so dark, that only living sacrifices will do as offerings. Violence within the ward is looked down upon by many pilgrims. But in addition to this relative feeling of calm, there exist shrines dedicated to spirits and ghosts of justice whose shrine-goers itch for an offering. In Merluna, outside of the Dead God's Ward there are few shrines and temples. While there seems to be no restricting laws, or any real reason for that much, creating a public shrine has grown into somewhat of a taboo, and freshly created altars outside of the Dead God's Ward find themselves ruined and desecrated without warning. There are tavern rumors that there exists a shrine, dedicated to the original martyrs of the Dead God, that seek out these out-of-place shrines and destroy them, keeping the faithful concentrated in their once glorious temple.

The Dead God's Ward is a draw to many faithful from across Arga. It is said amongst locals that within the ward, there exists a shrine to every being ever worshiped on the face of Arga - and if not, building new shrines is nothing out of the ordinary.

Magister's Ward

MORE TO COME

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[ic=The Vast]

"I don't understand why you are so paranoid about the Ashai, you could see them coming miles a- uuurrrk!"

-Last known words of Borrs the Cartographer.

Nicknames: The Grasslands
Resources: Slaves, vetch-beast leather
Type: Plain
Location: Southern Arga   
Leader: None
Population: Unknown

Gamemaster Information
A great plain of swaying grass and blowing dust, to many, the Vast is the proverbial end of the world. But to think that the Vast is emptying would be a great understatement. The nomadic Ashai - considered by many to be the greatest huntsmen that roam Arga - travel across the grasslands, stalking and hunting the massive vetch-beasts - lumbering creatures so enormous, they can only be taken down by climbing upon them and then into their ear to spear their brain.

Tall, lean, and graceful, the Ashai have dark coppery skin, silver, gold, or purple eyes, and no hair of any kind. Nearly all races of Arga find them to be the most beautiful of all mortals. Ashai euphoria-slaves will go for the utmost premium, but are extremely rare, as they are all but impossible to capture in their home grasses. As the Ashai move with the herds, they form tent cities that are founded at dusk but gone without a trace at dawn.

Ashai society is a mystery to most, as the avoid or kill outsiders within the Vast. A matriarchal society, each tent city is lead by a coven of elders who are obeyed without question. The Ashai worship an ancient god-spirit of the plains depicted as an incorporeal golden vetch-beast - Voona Hoon.

Aside from the Ashai and vetch-beasts, the Vast is full of creatures both docile and predatory. Ruins of massive stone blocks sporadically dot the grasslands, their makers unknown. Out dating even the ruins of Old Dura, tales and rumors about these ruins range from them housing ancient weapons that spit fire and light to being the tombs of the first gods of Arga. But as their locations are virtually unknown and guarded by the Ashai, these are still only rumors.
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Expressway to cool places!

[O Senhor Leetz]

Serious Sundries - Artifacts, Items, and Stuff
[ic=Old Duran Artifacts]Arc-Weapons: Made in the Old Duran custom these weapons are perhaps the most common of the artifacts and relics to emerge from the dusts of Old Dura. While basically a standard version of a weapons, being made by Old Dura renders Arc-weapons nigh-indestructible by common methods and they are weighted and balanced perfectly. The head of the weapon contains mechanisms and power-crystals that sheath the weapon head in a faint shield energy and propel the head with savage force upon a solid strike, greatly increasing the armor and bone breaking capacity of the weapons. While Arc-Hammers are the most common, there have been instances of Arc-Axes, -Maces, and even -Spears.

Cog-Fist: While most likely not the true Duran name, Cog-Fists are mechanized gauntlets that drastically increase the strength of the users arm - swords swing faster, punches land harder, heavy objects seem lighter. The Cog-Fist is worn as a normal gauntlet is, and is so finely made and so efficiently designed that it can be worn beneath a shirt sleeve without being overly noticeable. A bank of power-crystals run along the inside of the forearm while needles inside the machine inject themselves into the users muscles to increase reflexes and sensitivity. While not as common as Arc-weapons, Cog-Fists can be found for sale outside of Old Dura with a lot of persistence and a lot more coin.

Phase-Carapace: One of the greatest accomplishments of Old Dura, the Phase-Carapace combines all of the technologies of the ancient empire into one unstoppable object. Gears, cogs, pistons, and multiple banks of power-crystals empower the machine, increasing the strength and speed of the wearer. Complex boots allow the user to jump great distances while ballasts and hidden vents allow it's use under and on water. Various weapons are built into the suit - gauntlet-mounted knife launchers, shoulder-mounted cross bows, and caltrop bays. A large device mounted in the chest-plate creates an energy phase field around the armor, not unlike Arc-Weapons, that will deflect weak blows and angled shots.

A beautiful contraption as well, the Phase-Carapace is said to be so light and flexible that it can be worn like common cloth. Like the Cog-Fist, the Phase-Carapace fuses itself with the user through sharp needles that shoot themselves into the chest, neck, and calves of the wearer. Only a hand full of Phase-Carapace suits exist today. The most famed suit is named Red Widow and is worn by the pirate lord Devos of Ib.[/ic]

[O Senhor Leetz]

Sects Talk - Cabals, Guilds, and Exclusive Clubs

[ic=The Athemancers]

"I saw a man right there! I swear it!"

-Poyle Winterbane of the city of Fell


"The world has left us behind, and in turn, we will leave the world."

-Athemancer neophytes creed


Gamemaster Information
Far to the north, secluded within the cold bleak iron of the Hall of Hushed Screams, the Athemancers seek to remove themselves Arga - body and soul. Weavers of void and drinkers of dust, the Athemancers are feared, maligned, and misunderstood. At their core, they seek to remove themselves from what they see as a vicious and cruel cycle of life and to forever separate themselves from mortal restraints.

In their search for release, Athemancers first deprive themselves from what had defined them - forgetting of their names, of memories, of friends and family, and of emotions. They deny themselves any contact with the physical world - sewing shut of lips and cutting off of the tongue, the removal of eyes, the scarring of skin, the searing of ears. At last they seem as walking corpses - pale, leathery flesh, a horrible visage, the cold, tugging silence that only death seems to carry along, and an aura that dulls the world around them; smells are less potent, sounds are muffled, colors subdued.

Yet as the Athemancers remove themselves from the world, they are still in touch with it. They "speak" in raspy whispers that seem to come from nowhere and "see" the world through methods still unknown. And as there their sense of self is forgotten, their power increases. Hushed rumors are spoken of powerful Athemancers who can make themselves blink in and out of time and space, control the spirits of the lost, and even will the souls of others right out of existence.

It has been said to fear the man with nothing to lose, and in the case of the Athemancers, truer words have never been spoken.
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[ic=The Knifebirds]"It was a dirty, rowdy bar, so fights were to be expected I 'spose. This one man, he was a giant, had the arms of a Vorr and was well into his tankard. Anyhow, he starts a' pickin' on this skinny guy who was sittin' by his lonesome in a corner, mindin' his own, not botherin' nothing. At first he didn't even look at the drunkard, at least until that fool knocked over this skinny fella's pint.

He looked up from his seat and says to this brute "You have one chance to walk out of this bar alive." Now, this big fella' didn't take to kindly to that, and quicker than you'd expect he pulled out this rusty axe and swung straight towards this little fella's head. But before you ya' could be blink, the little guy rolled to 'is right and pulled out this funny lookin' knife - was 'bout a foot and half long and had this silvery sheen to it.

As he landed on 'is feet, he smacked this knife of his against the stone floor and it soon as he did that, it started to hum - was a strange feeling, this hum, I could feel it deep in m' chest, like I was outta breath or something. Well any how, he takes this knife and jabs this brutes thigh just like that, quick as a whistle.

And all of a sudden, the drunk was standing still like he was frozen or something. But just as quick as he rolled and stabbed, this little fella' sprang up, smacked his knife against his shoe and took off the others head like 'is neck was warm butter. The skinny guy tossed the barkeep a few coins, apologized for the mess, and walked right outta the door. Strangest thing I've ever seen

-Murl Opporu of Ib, personal account of the Bloody Bar Fight of '34.


Gamemaster Information
Practitioners of a nearly lost art, the Knifebirds, or quaesera as they were called in the the old Eldra tongue, fight with a long slender knife that they also use as something like tuning fork. These specials knifes, called quaelaths, can only be found, as even the most talented smiths cannot replicate the exact measurements, composition, and design of these near-perfect blades. They are believed to have been created by the long dead Eldra, but this is only speculation.

As Knifebirds strike at their opponents, they first hit their quaelaths on something - like a floor, wall, anything really - to tune their blades to a specific pitch. Even the most basic of quaelath tunes requires years of training - learning how to hold the handle with just the right touch, how to bring the blade through the air to continue the tune, what strikes to use to reach certain frequencies. For the untrained, the vibrations of a quaelath will just as easily effect its wielder as its target.

A myriad of pitches and vibrations each achieve a certain effect - some shatter shields and crack armor, others cause enemies to drop their weapons or feel sick to their stomach, another will slice right through an opponents weapon, and some will paralyze or suddenly and permanently stop the heart.

Training in the way of the quaesera is difficult to find. As it requires the possession of a quaelath, most Knifebirds come from a long familial line, with the blade and training being passed from generation to generation. But from time to time, the adventurous or lucky may come across a unclaimed quaelath, and in turn seek out a master Knifebird to train with, as self-taught Knifebirds are unheard of. Knifebirds fight in a smooth and elegant style, favoring finesse over brute strength as they alternate tuning strikes, quick stabs, elegant dodges, and long lunges - hence the name, as they resemble to many a fluttering bird whilst  in combat.

What is the point of wielding a hammer when a pin prick will do just fine?[/ic]

[O Senhor Leetz]

Reserved for Flaura, Fauna, and Fangs

[O Senhor Leetz]

Other Argan Things  


[ic=The Cosmology of Arga]"What are you, daft? Why on Arga would you play the drums tonight, of all nights? It's bad luck you fool."

-Overheard conversation on the Eve of the Black Eclipse

Gamemaster Information Arga rests as the fourth world of seven that revolve around the sun, the Great Lantern. Some astronomers theorize that all other stars that shine in the Void are groups of worlds and flame, just like Argas, but no one has yet proven that.

The first world after the Great Lantern is Unadaos, a small red world of ancient iron works and smoldering rivers of flame and molten. It is said to be the left-over scrap metal from the forging of the sun.

The second world is Iryeath. Said to be a world of pure water that is frozen by night and boils by day and glows a brilliant blue in the night sky. It has one small moon that is visible only by the glass-contraptions of Cimmer.

The third world is the dark twin of Arga, called Yimoth. A world totally devoid of life and covered in cold, black glass, it is thought to be the home of the cursed dead, malevolent demonkin, and the husks of dead gods. Once every thirteen years it eclipses the sun, the Eve of the Black Eclipse, and is a night of ill omens and furtive shadows.

Arga is the fifth world, and around it orbits three moons - the Folly, the Glimmer-moon, and the Sigil-moon. The Folly is small and red, and is seen as unlucky. The Glimmer-moon is a shiny silver-blue and the largest in the night sky. The Sigil-moon is a rusted-red, and when view closely, one can see the surface of the moon covered in glyphs and runes, which many across the face of Arga study, especially the Observers of Umber.

The sixth world is that of Iluzth, and pale and dusty world thought to be the ancient city-world of long forgotten gods and spirits. Seven small moons orbit Iluzth, but are very hard to see without the assistance of machines.

The last world is that of Tzek, and swirling, nebulous hole of purple and black storms. Tzek is little understood and little spoken of, as it is thought to hold the heart of a dead god of murder.
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[ic=Weapons and Fighting in Arga]"The man in blue held two blades, a slender rapier in his right hand, a small kindjal in his left. He stood with both his arms outstretched behind him, like a bird. In fact, the Master-of-Needles told me that his stance was called the nylushar, the old Athan world for hawk.

The other man, dressed in yellow, held a but single blade. A long slender sword, it was longer and thicker than the others rapier, but not by much. A blade-catcher rested above the hilt. The Master-of-Needles told me it was of Athan design, and was called a jhar. His stance was relaxed, and his blade scraped the floor as it extended from his lowered arm.

At the sound of a chime, the man in blue lunged across the carpeted sparring room, like a hawk in flight. He flew at the man in yellow with quick, swooping strikes, not dissimilar to a raptors dive for prey. But the man in yellow stood his ground. His motions were casual and not nearly as frantic as the others. He calmly stepped around the flurry of blows, the jhar elegantly parrying as it was gently balanced amongst the mans fingers.

The man in blue seemed to be winning, until he made his mistake - he led too far forwards with his rapier, which was caught and buried into the floor with the jhar's blade-catcher. The blue man's kindjal was too far behind him to make a counter attack, and the man in yellow quickly readjusted his blade, swung towards the blue man's neck, and stopped an inch from his throat.

A chime rang again, the audience clapped, the men bowed, and then left."

-Account of an Athan practice duel, Librarian Sev Yllum of Cimme

Gamemaster Information Combat in Arga functions the same as it does in most settings - the person who gets stabbed first loses. However, what is different is how combat is approached, both through it's weapons and techniques. Fighting in Arga is based more upon finesse, training, intelligence, and mobility. In standard DnD, weapons like great-swords and -axes frequently trump weapons such as rapiers, daggers, or spears, which in all reality are just as deadly.

Combat is Arga is fluid, dynamic, and should support creativity. If a PC stabs an enemy, they should have the option of leaving a knife stuck in a thigh to slow down the enemy, or impaling a monster and leaving the spear stuck inside. In a tavern, the PCs should be feel to fling chairs, throw grog in opponents eyes, flip tables for cover, or bash someone with a tankard. This should all be down with as little meta-game as possible. Combat should focus just as much on a cool weapon or spell as it should on using the environment, throwing stuff, and fighting a little dirty.

Magic and mundane weapons are also different. There are not +1 flaming maces, magic weapons, in fact, are exceedingly rare, and if a PC finds one, it would be wise to start building the character around the weapons (magic weapons in Arga are very undefinable and mysterious, a weapon found will develop or reveal more of it's powers and abilities as it bounds with it's wielder.)

Another difference is the use of different materials for different qualities and effects for non-magical weapons. In standard DnD, everything comes in steel or wood. In Arga, you will find knives made of great teeth, spearheads made of glass, armor made of wood, hides, even bones and minerals. While steel, and more so iron, are the most common materials, plenty others exist.

The other thing to notice is the quality of weapons. In the more civilized ages of Arga's past, there were plenty of master smiths that created fine weapons. Now, it is a rare thing to find a good quality sword made from good quality materials. A ripple-steel kindjal or scimitar would be worth 100x the price of the same weapons made of standard iron.
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[O Senhor Leetz]

Reserved for More Other Things

[Matt Larkin (author)]

Did you make those pictures Leetz? They just awesometated me.

[LD]

He acquired the good pictures from here:
http://image.com.com/gamespot/images/2007/221/guildwars620_screen.jpg

http://www.blogcdn.com/www.massively.com/media/2008/04/guildwars2charr.jpg

If you have firefox right click on the image and copy the image location.

[O Senhor Leetz]

oh I wish I could do those. but alas, I cannot. I've found the key to finding great art is searching for the artists instead of what you want. conceptart.org is a sweet place.

[Superfluous Crow]

but how do you know what artists to search for?

[O Senhor Leetz]

good question. google concept artists and go from there.

Updated/added stuff about the Vast.

[O Senhor Leetz]

added info about the city of Fell and Knifebirds