Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)The Battle of Ar Anroc, eight months ago
Rain fell like lead shot from a slate grey sky, turning the once fertile fields beyond the walls to muddy wasteland. Corpses of the fallen lay where they had been cut down, a few scraggly carrion birds braving the growing storm to pick at their rotting flesh.
The tattered banner of Ar Anroc snapped and fluttered in the rising gale, the wind threatening to steal it away as Tarring, the grim-faced standard bearer, raised it aloft. All along the fortifications, elven faces turned toward it, weapons raised in silent salute. Every one had sworn an oath that Ar Anroc would not fall, that its holy places would not be defiled, that its people would not be taken into vile slavery, that its banner would not be trampled into the mud by the dark kin.
In the distance, hazy now that the rain had begun to fall in earnest, Prince Corwin could make out the black-sailed ships from which the hordes of the dark kin had spilled forth like a plague upon the land. And between Ar Anroc and their ships, safely beyond the range of the weapons mounted on the city's walls, were arrayed the regiments of the dark kin - black-armoured warriors with ornate crested helms designed to inspire fear in their enemies. Dark kin who passed themselves off as nobles in what could only loosely be titled a society, so called Highborn, rode between the blocks of infantry on great fiery-eyed steeds, maintaining order with a word or the flash of a blade.
Three times already the High Elves of Ar Anroc, though desperately outnumbered, had driven the dark kin from the walls, and each time they had fallen back only far enough to regroup for another attempt. The weapons of the city had taken a terrible toll, but the dark ones were driven on by something far worse than the love of land and family. Their losses only seemed to fuel their all-consuming hatred for order and light.
A jagged bolt of lightning split the sky, the dull rumble of thunder following it almost immediately. The massed ranks of the dark kin started forward as if this were a prearranged signal, marching relentlessly towards the city through muck and slush that had once been fields of crops. Many were scythed down like wheat by repeated volleys from the archers on the walls, but there were still more to take their place.
Desperate fighting broke out in the courtyard. A figure clad in flowing black robes had somehow made it into the city unnoticed, and was attempting to raise the gate. From his position on the walls, Corwin watched as the assassin ripped his curved blade across the throat of one of the defenders before the elf could even draw his blade, letting the limp body fall to the ground. A blast of dark energy, its source unseen, knocked Corwin from his feet before he could shout a warning.
The sorceresses of the dark kin were powerful but, now that their presence was revealed, Andornil could muster a proper magical defense against their dark arts. The mage strode through the air, borne aloft by sheer force of will, bolts of energy flying from his fingertips as he directed his powers against the enemy. Corpses were flung through the air like broken dolls as the unforgettable smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Corwin regained his feet in time to see the top of a ladder appear above the rampart, a pale long-fingered hand already grasping the top rung. He drew his weapon, the enchantment bound in the steel flaring along the blade as he prepared to defend his home.
The dark elf vaulted onto the battlements, a barbed sword clutched in one hand, and grinned at Corwin with undeniable malice. The sword in his hand burst into life, the blade surrounded by an aura of blazing cold. Among the dark kin, only a Highborn could wield such a weapon, the equal of Corwin's own.
Blade rang on blade as High and Dark Elf attempted to best one another, the two opponents proving to be equally matched. Multicoloured sparks fell from each impact as the combating enchantments of their weapons cancelled each other out, until a misjudged swing unbalanced the dark elf, and it was the easiest thing in the world for Corwin to lash out with the hilt of his own blade. He struck the dark elf in the temple, throwing him backwards. A second blow sent him tumbling over the wall and to his death on the field below.
The Dark Elves
The Dark Elves, called such by others than themselves, are a scourge on the world. Venturing forth from the fortress-cities of the frozen north in black-sailed corsair fleets, they raid and plunder the coastal settlements of the other races before returning whence they came, holds bulging with slaves and treasure. This is partly because the lands of the Dark Elves are too far north, too dark and too cold for the growing of crops and the raising of livestock, but mostly because they enjoy spreading fear and discord.
Like the High Elves, they are a race possessed of incredible longevity. In an era when a man is lucky to reach his sixtieth year, an elf can live for six centuries or longer and so seems immortal. They are not, however, invincible and can be struck down by famine, disease or war.
Dark Elf society, such as it is, is based on treachery and deceit. Though they are bound by common goals and motives, every Dark Elf is a Dark Elf alone and looks only toward his or her own advancement. It is only right and proper that any Dark Elf cunning enough to kill an immediate superior should take his place, and any Dark Elf foolish enough to be killed by an underling is not fit to lead.
The Dark Elves are ruled by a King or Queen. Often the most cunning and brutal of all Dark Elves, he or she has only risen to this position by careful planning, the correct application of his or her talents, political alliances and intrigues, assassinations and sheer bloody-mindedness. It is not unusual for the crown to change hands several times in quick succession, often passing from one ruler to the next in the space of less than a day or, in the case of one unfortunate, during his coronation.
The current King is Rovakir Cairnborn. Considered cunning and treacherous by a race renowned for such attributes, he is reputedly unkillable, and has thus ushered in an era of relative peace and stability.
The second most powerful group in the hierarchy are princes and princesses; the Highborn, sons and daughters of prominent families, or simply those who have butchered their way to the top. They spend much their time plotting against one another and staving off the attempts on their lives by their underlings, except during periods of war when they lead the King's armies in battle.
Slavemasters occupy the third rung of the metaphorical ladder. As the Dark Elf economy is built entirely on slavery, the Dark Elf with the most slaves will be the most wealthy. It is the Slavemasters' profession to provide the labour and funds that equip the Dark Elf armies and drives their warmachine ever onward. They also outfit private companies of slavers and pirate and corsair fleets that prey on the merchant vessels of other races.
Due to some trick of fate, only female Dark Elves are able to focus the natural energy of the earth into powerful magics. Called sorceresses, they are amongst the most accomplished magic users in the world, second only to the mages of the High Elves. Black magic is an incredibly destructive force and sorceresses often accompany the armies and raiding fleets of the Dark Elves and provide magical support and protection.
Assassins, priests of the Cult of Murder, occupy an equivalent level of society. They are chosen during the Night of Long Knives, the one night each year when assassins roam the streets of the Dark Elf cities, killing all they find their in the name of the Lord of Murder. They kidnap children from their homes, and those that survive the training are ordained as assassins. Though it is technically forbidden to approach an assassin on one's own behalf, a large donation to the Cult often results in the mysterious deaths of one's political enemies.
Executioners are trained from a young age and are fanatically loyal to the King, acting as his personal bodyguard on those occasions when he deigns to leave the Royal Palace. They are a fearsome sight, encased in obsidian armour, high-crested helms and armed with two-handed greatswords. The King often appoints his executioners to watch over those with whom he is displeased, the constant threat of imminent beheading a suitable deterrent for those who have ideas above their station, or have failed in their duty once to often.
The massed ranks of Dark Elf citizenry are next, occupying many levels of their own. All Dark Elves are trained in the use of one or more weapons during their lives, creating an armed populace and, should the entire race of Dark Elves ever take up arms, one of the largest armies the world will have ever known.
The final and bottom level of Dark Elf society encompasses the slaves. Most are worked to death in the salt mines and pine forests, others are driven before the armies to spring traps and act as screens against arrow-fire, some are sacrificed to the Lord of Murder and some are simply tortured to death for the sick amusement of the slavers even before they see the ice walls of the Dark Elf lands.
The Dark Elves live in a number of fortress-cities to the far north of civilized lands. It is a largely barren and inhospitable landscape covered in snow and ice all year round, pine forests stretching for thousands of miles across the Mountains of Mourn. It is a land of darkness, the sun never rising high enough to cast its weak light into the cities.
The principle settlement of the Dark Elves is the coastal city of Dar Greaf, seat of the King. It is a sprawling metropolis, one of the most densely populated cities in the world. Black marble towers rise a hundred feet above the walls which themselves rise high above the snowfields.
Miscelaney and OOC ramblings
Races:
Long have the Dark Elves held a rivalry against the High Elves, and the two races are opposed in almost every respect. Where the High Elves are loyal and merciful, the Dark elves are treacherous and merciless. Both races of elves are possessed of members able to use the most powerful magics in the world, light and dark magic respectively.
It is thought that both races were once one, though what separated the two to the point where they will attempt to kill one another on sight remains a mystery hidden deep in the mists of time.
Both races of elves stand taller than a man, but overall slimmer. They move with grace and absolute poise. High Elves tend to tanned skin and fair hair, while Dark Elves tend toward pale skin and dark hair.
The Dwarfs are known for their skill in metallurgy and crafting, as well as brewing incredibly potent ales. They stand shorter than a man, but are tougher and stronger. Dwarfs favour the direct approach wherever possible and have little patience for bards and those of similar professions. They are shrewd merchants and have a great love of gold and wealth.
Dwarfs have a great hatred of Trolls, who they see as an ancestral enemy, as both races make their homes in mountainous regions.
Men come in a great variety from the dark skinned men of the southern deserts to the barbarian tribes of the north, it is Man's ability to adapt that has seen the race spread across much of the world. They are spilt into many factions, often warring amongst themselves for no discernible reason.
Trolls are the largest of the humanoid races, on average standing between seven and eight feet tall. Trolls are possessed of incredible strength and the ability to regenerate wounds, regrowing lost limbs and, if given enough time, even their heads. The only way to prevent this regeneration is to burn the bodies or destroy them with magic.
Trolls are also the most stupid race, lacking the intelligence to fashion weapons or armour, or build homes.
They infest the lower reaches of dwarven keeps and natural caverns.
Enchanted items:
It is possible for a suitably powerful magic user to enchant a weapon or other item during its creation, but these artifacts are still very rare and expensive to create.
By far the most common enchanted items are various pieces of jewelry which often provide protection from various ailments such as plagues and diseases.
Next are enchanted weapons, which range from daggers to greatswords and battleaxes to bows and individual arrows. Often weapons increase the speed or strength of the bearer, or are enchanted with an elemental force such as fire or ice.
The least common of enchanted items is armour. Incredibly difficult to produce, magical shields, helms and the like and hard to come by and even harder to pry from the hands of their owners.
Only the most accomplished leaders or famous individuals are permitted to carry and use magical artifacts.
Other stuff:
In the next post will be that characters that you can choose to portray during this role play. Due to the nature of the beast, they will take the form of a short description of the character's current (as of the start of the RP) occupation and motivation. All other details, such as the name of the character and any formative events in their history, are entirely up to you. Please do bear in mind the information given above as to magic users, assassins, etc.
Many details have purposefully been left out as an aid to creative writing and the possibity of sub-plots and side-quests.
Character sheets are to be posted individually and updated throughout the course of the RP. As your character gains renown, advances in society, etc, they will gain access to magical items and the like.
I thoroughly encourage players to, in private or through the actions of their character, form alliances, plot the downfall of their superiors, betray one another and generally act like the treacherous cut-throats they are.
The most important rule in this RP is this:
Just because you can does not mean you should.
But anyone foolish or inattentive enough to write their character into a situation where their only option is to die... well, they deserve no pity.
If you have any doubts about the actions you wish to take, PM either the intended victim or myself.
The Characters
The Executioner
Fanatically loyal to King Cairnborn, as are all executioners, the Executioner was appointed to watch over the activities of the Prince following the defeat of the armies under his command by the High Elves at Ar Anroc. The Executioner is empowered to claim the Prince's head should he get ideas above his station or fail in his duty.
There are dark murmurings that the Executioner's loyalty has been called into question on several occasions in the past and that this assignment could be the last.
The Assassin
An ordained Assassin of the Cult of Murder, kidnapped on the Night of Long Knives many years ago. A master of stealth and poisons, the Assassin is a living weapon, skilled in the use of all weapons and several forms of unarmed combat.
The Assassin's mind has been disturbed by long years of slaughter, and has become totally fixated, to the exclusion of all else, on the next target - the Prince. The Assassin will not allow another to claim the Prince's life until ready to end it on his or her own terms.
The Sorceress
The Prince's younger sister and an accomplished Sorceress. Ever has she been in her older brother's shadow, and now she has been tarred with the brush of failure due to his actions at Ar Anroc. Determined to prove herself better than her sibling, she has set herself the task of publicly humiliating the Prince before taking his life.
The Commander
The Prince's second-in-command at Ar Anroc. There are rumours that the Commander somehow engineered the Prince's fall from grace, possibly by working in concert with the Sorceress. It is no secret that the Commander is power-hungry, wishes to rise in station and bears no love for the Prince and other Highborn.
The Slavemaster
One of the richest Dark Elves, the Slavemaster prefers to stay out of the limelight as much as possible and pull strings from the shadows. The Slavemaster has offered the fallen Prince support in the form of a ship and crew, asking in return that the Prince remember his allies when he has regained his position of power and authority.
The Prince
Severian Shatterheart, played by: Me.
So... yeah.
Interested parties should PM me and stuff. You know the drill.
Rain fell like lead shot from a slate grey sky, turning the once fertile fields beyond the walls to muddy wasteland. Corpses of the fallen lay where they had been cut down, a few scraggly carrion birds braving the growing storm to pick at their rotting flesh.
The tattered banner of Ar Anroc snapped and fluttered in the rising gale, the wind threatening to steal it away as Tarring, the grim-faced standard bearer, raised it aloft. All along the fortifications, elven faces turned toward it, weapons raised in silent salute. Every one had sworn an oath that Ar Anroc would not fall, that its holy places would not be defiled, that its people would not be taken into vile slavery, that its banner would not be trampled into the mud by the dark kin.
In the distance, hazy now that the rain had begun to fall in earnest, Prince Corwin could make out the black-sailed ships from which the hordes of the dark kin had spilled forth like a plague upon the land. And between Ar Anroc and their ships, safely beyond the range of the weapons mounted on the city's walls, were arrayed the regiments of the dark kin - black-armoured warriors with ornate crested helms designed to inspire fear in their enemies. Dark kin who passed themselves off as nobles in what could only loosely be titled a society, so called Highborn, rode between the blocks of infantry on great fiery-eyed steeds, maintaining order with a word or the flash of a blade.
Three times already the High Elves of Ar Anroc, though desperately outnumbered, had driven the dark kin from the walls, and each time they had fallen back only far enough to regroup for another attempt. The weapons of the city had taken a terrible toll, but the dark ones were driven on by something far worse than the love of land and family. Their losses only seemed to fuel their all-consuming hatred for order and light.
A jagged bolt of lightning split the sky, the dull rumble of thunder following it almost immediately. The massed ranks of the dark kin started forward as if this were a prearranged signal, marching relentlessly towards the city through muck and slush that had once been fields of crops. Many were scythed down like wheat by repeated volleys from the archers on the walls, but there were still more to take their place.
Desperate fighting broke out in the courtyard. A figure clad in flowing black robes had somehow made it into the city unnoticed, and was attempting to raise the gate. From his position on the walls, Corwin watched as the assassin ripped his curved blade across the throat of one of the defenders before the elf could even draw his blade, letting the limp body fall to the ground. A blast of dark energy, its source unseen, knocked Corwin from his feet before he could shout a warning.
The sorceresses of the dark kin were powerful but, now that their presence was revealed, Andornil could muster a proper magical defense against their dark arts. The mage strode through the air, borne aloft by sheer force of will, bolts of energy flying from his fingertips as he directed his powers against the enemy. Corpses were flung through the air like broken dolls as the unforgettable smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Corwin regained his feet in time to see the top of a ladder appear above the rampart, a pale long-fingered hand already grasping the top rung. He drew his weapon, the enchantment bound in the steel flaring along the blade as he prepared to defend his home.
The dark elf vaulted onto the battlements, a barbed sword clutched in one hand, and grinned at Corwin with undeniable malice. The sword in his hand burst into life, the blade surrounded by an aura of blazing cold. Among the dark kin, only a Highborn could wield such a weapon, the equal of Corwin's own.
Blade rang on blade as High and Dark Elf attempted to best one another, the two opponents proving to be equally matched. Multicoloured sparks fell from each impact as the combating enchantments of their weapons cancelled each other out, until a misjudged swing unbalanced the dark elf, and it was the easiest thing in the world for Corwin to lash out with the hilt of his own blade. He struck the dark elf in the temple, throwing him backwards. A second blow sent him tumbling over the wall and to his death on the field below.
The Dark Elves
The Dark Elves, called such by others than themselves, are a scourge on the world. Venturing forth from the fortress-cities of the frozen north in black-sailed corsair fleets, they raid and plunder the coastal settlements of the other races before returning whence they came, holds bulging with slaves and treasure. This is partly because the lands of the Dark Elves are too far north, too dark and too cold for the growing of crops and the raising of livestock, but mostly because they enjoy spreading fear and discord.
Like the High Elves, they are a race possessed of incredible longevity. In an era when a man is lucky to reach his sixtieth year, an elf can live for six centuries or longer and so seems immortal. They are not, however, invincible and can be struck down by famine, disease or war.
Dark Elf society, such as it is, is based on treachery and deceit. Though they are bound by common goals and motives, every Dark Elf is a Dark Elf alone and looks only toward his or her own advancement. It is only right and proper that any Dark Elf cunning enough to kill an immediate superior should take his place, and any Dark Elf foolish enough to be killed by an underling is not fit to lead.
The Dark Elves are ruled by a King or Queen. Often the most cunning and brutal of all Dark Elves, he or she has only risen to this position by careful planning, the correct application of his or her talents, political alliances and intrigues, assassinations and sheer bloody-mindedness. It is not unusual for the crown to change hands several times in quick succession, often passing from one ruler to the next in the space of less than a day or, in the case of one unfortunate, during his coronation.
The current King is Rovakir Cairnborn. Considered cunning and treacherous by a race renowned for such attributes, he is reputedly unkillable, and has thus ushered in an era of relative peace and stability.
The second most powerful group in the hierarchy are princes and princesses; the Highborn, sons and daughters of prominent families, or simply those who have butchered their way to the top. They spend much their time plotting against one another and staving off the attempts on their lives by their underlings, except during periods of war when they lead the King's armies in battle.
Slavemasters occupy the third rung of the metaphorical ladder. As the Dark Elf economy is built entirely on slavery, the Dark Elf with the most slaves will be the most wealthy. It is the Slavemasters' profession to provide the labour and funds that equip the Dark Elf armies and drives their warmachine ever onward. They also outfit private companies of slavers and pirate and corsair fleets that prey on the merchant vessels of other races.
Due to some trick of fate, only female Dark Elves are able to focus the natural energy of the earth into powerful magics. Called sorceresses, they are amongst the most accomplished magic users in the world, second only to the mages of the High Elves. Black magic is an incredibly destructive force and sorceresses often accompany the armies and raiding fleets of the Dark Elves and provide magical support and protection.
Assassins, priests of the Cult of Murder, occupy an equivalent level of society. They are chosen during the Night of Long Knives, the one night each year when assassins roam the streets of the Dark Elf cities, killing all they find their in the name of the Lord of Murder. They kidnap children from their homes, and those that survive the training are ordained as assassins. Though it is technically forbidden to approach an assassin on one's own behalf, a large donation to the Cult often results in the mysterious deaths of one's political enemies.
Executioners are trained from a young age and are fanatically loyal to the King, acting as his personal bodyguard on those occasions when he deigns to leave the Royal Palace. They are a fearsome sight, encased in obsidian armour, high-crested helms and armed with two-handed greatswords. The King often appoints his executioners to watch over those with whom he is displeased, the constant threat of imminent beheading a suitable deterrent for those who have ideas above their station, or have failed in their duty once to often.
The massed ranks of Dark Elf citizenry are next, occupying many levels of their own. All Dark Elves are trained in the use of one or more weapons during their lives, creating an armed populace and, should the entire race of Dark Elves ever take up arms, one of the largest armies the world will have ever known.
The final and bottom level of Dark Elf society encompasses the slaves. Most are worked to death in the salt mines and pine forests, others are driven before the armies to spring traps and act as screens against arrow-fire, some are sacrificed to the Lord of Murder and some are simply tortured to death for the sick amusement of the slavers even before they see the ice walls of the Dark Elf lands.
The Dark Elves live in a number of fortress-cities to the far north of civilized lands. It is a largely barren and inhospitable landscape covered in snow and ice all year round, pine forests stretching for thousands of miles across the Mountains of Mourn. It is a land of darkness, the sun never rising high enough to cast its weak light into the cities.
The principle settlement of the Dark Elves is the coastal city of Dar Greaf, seat of the King. It is a sprawling metropolis, one of the most densely populated cities in the world. Black marble towers rise a hundred feet above the walls which themselves rise high above the snowfields.
Miscelaney and OOC ramblings
Races:
Long have the Dark Elves held a rivalry against the High Elves, and the two races are opposed in almost every respect. Where the High Elves are loyal and merciful, the Dark elves are treacherous and merciless. Both races of elves are possessed of members able to use the most powerful magics in the world, light and dark magic respectively.
It is thought that both races were once one, though what separated the two to the point where they will attempt to kill one another on sight remains a mystery hidden deep in the mists of time.
Both races of elves stand taller than a man, but overall slimmer. They move with grace and absolute poise. High Elves tend to tanned skin and fair hair, while Dark Elves tend toward pale skin and dark hair.
The Dwarfs are known for their skill in metallurgy and crafting, as well as brewing incredibly potent ales. They stand shorter than a man, but are tougher and stronger. Dwarfs favour the direct approach wherever possible and have little patience for bards and those of similar professions. They are shrewd merchants and have a great love of gold and wealth.
Dwarfs have a great hatred of Trolls, who they see as an ancestral enemy, as both races make their homes in mountainous regions.
Men come in a great variety from the dark skinned men of the southern deserts to the barbarian tribes of the north, it is Man's ability to adapt that has seen the race spread across much of the world. They are spilt into many factions, often warring amongst themselves for no discernible reason.
Trolls are the largest of the humanoid races, on average standing between seven and eight feet tall. Trolls are possessed of incredible strength and the ability to regenerate wounds, regrowing lost limbs and, if given enough time, even their heads. The only way to prevent this regeneration is to burn the bodies or destroy them with magic.
Trolls are also the most stupid race, lacking the intelligence to fashion weapons or armour, or build homes.
They infest the lower reaches of dwarven keeps and natural caverns.
Enchanted items:
It is possible for a suitably powerful magic user to enchant a weapon or other item during its creation, but these artifacts are still very rare and expensive to create.
By far the most common enchanted items are various pieces of jewelry which often provide protection from various ailments such as plagues and diseases.
Next are enchanted weapons, which range from daggers to greatswords and battleaxes to bows and individual arrows. Often weapons increase the speed or strength of the bearer, or are enchanted with an elemental force such as fire or ice.
The least common of enchanted items is armour. Incredibly difficult to produce, magical shields, helms and the like and hard to come by and even harder to pry from the hands of their owners.
Only the most accomplished leaders or famous individuals are permitted to carry and use magical artifacts.
Other stuff:
In the next post will be that characters that you can choose to portray during this role play. Due to the nature of the beast, they will take the form of a short description of the character's current (as of the start of the RP) occupation and motivation. All other details, such as the name of the character and any formative events in their history, are entirely up to you. Please do bear in mind the information given above as to magic users, assassins, etc.
Many details have purposefully been left out as an aid to creative writing and the possibity of sub-plots and side-quests.
Character sheets are to be posted individually and updated throughout the course of the RP. As your character gains renown, advances in society, etc, they will gain access to magical items and the like.
I thoroughly encourage players to, in private or through the actions of their character, form alliances, plot the downfall of their superiors, betray one another and generally act like the treacherous cut-throats they are.
The most important rule in this RP is this:
Just because you can does not mean you should.
But anyone foolish or inattentive enough to write their character into a situation where their only option is to die... well, they deserve no pity.
If you have any doubts about the actions you wish to take, PM either the intended victim or myself.
The Characters
The Executioner
Fanatically loyal to King Cairnborn, as are all executioners, the Executioner was appointed to watch over the activities of the Prince following the defeat of the armies under his command by the High Elves at Ar Anroc. The Executioner is empowered to claim the Prince's head should he get ideas above his station or fail in his duty.
There are dark murmurings that the Executioner's loyalty has been called into question on several occasions in the past and that this assignment could be the last.
The Assassin
An ordained Assassin of the Cult of Murder, kidnapped on the Night of Long Knives many years ago. A master of stealth and poisons, the Assassin is a living weapon, skilled in the use of all weapons and several forms of unarmed combat.
The Assassin's mind has been disturbed by long years of slaughter, and has become totally fixated, to the exclusion of all else, on the next target - the Prince. The Assassin will not allow another to claim the Prince's life until ready to end it on his or her own terms.
The Sorceress
The Prince's younger sister and an accomplished Sorceress. Ever has she been in her older brother's shadow, and now she has been tarred with the brush of failure due to his actions at Ar Anroc. Determined to prove herself better than her sibling, she has set herself the task of publicly humiliating the Prince before taking his life.
The Commander
The Prince's second-in-command at Ar Anroc. There are rumours that the Commander somehow engineered the Prince's fall from grace, possibly by working in concert with the Sorceress. It is no secret that the Commander is power-hungry, wishes to rise in station and bears no love for the Prince and other Highborn.
The Slavemaster
One of the richest Dark Elves, the Slavemaster prefers to stay out of the limelight as much as possible and pull strings from the shadows. The Slavemaster has offered the fallen Prince support in the form of a ship and crew, asking in return that the Prince remember his allies when he has regained his position of power and authority.
The Prince
Severian Shatterheart, played by: Me.
So... yeah.
Interested parties should PM me and stuff. You know the drill.