Malepharin
Welcome to the world of Mal'phar, home to the malepharin, a race of knights fiercly dedicated to they're own codes of conduct. In this place you will take on the persona of your own personal knight, keeping a journal, or even venturing into the world of Mal'phar itself. You will evolve into one of the three alignments through your own choices, so think carefully about your answers, because after the decision is made, there is no going back.
Story 1
The sun rises. It's light pours through the fields and valleys and settles on a city that's so beautiful, so mind boggling, that visitors fall to their knee's outside the gates, tears streaming down their faces as they gaze upon the wonder. This is the Crystal City, and this is your home.
People are getting up and going about they're daily rounds, they are clean, forthright, and rich. You, however, are one of the scruffier seeds that live in the underbelly. The dark secret that every city such as this holds, and tries to paint over as best it can.
Most noses are turned up as you scramble by, but you take no notice, mostly because you are so small that all noses are upturned in the eyes of someone level with most people's knees.
Normally people like you would be the nightlife in a city such as this, begging the rich drunks for a few coins to live for another day, but you are different. Every morning you make the trek to see the changing of the guards.
Their proud armour gleams in the new morning sunlight, blinding you for a second. Wings of every hue flash before your eyes. To you, they seem godly, magnificent, and something to aspire to.
The change is made, you are satisfied for another morning before the ache of hunger starts. Deep in the tunnels of the sewers you make your way home when you stumble over something wooden. It is a shield, battered, broken, but a chance! Stuffing it under your shirt you go home, and decorate it with whatever you can, choosing a symbol, and some colours that suit you.
Now you are ready to begin!
Story 2
The sun shines! It floods the fields that glow with butterflies, flowers, and long grass. It's wild here, like you. Your new clothes are a mess, your carefully arranged hair is likewise in shambles, and you know that your parents are going to kill you when you get home to the holding. But playing with the peasant children requires quite a lot of dirt, and if you try to be careful about it you get called a rich pansy. Spankings are much more preferable then the name-calling.
Trees pose no threat to you; the person you just tagged is the only danger. And then you hear the call of your mother from your house. Amazing how one woman's lungs can carry that far out if she's anxious enough. Apologies made all around you grab your horse and high tail it back to the semi-castle that is your house.
Your father, surprisingly is the one waiting there for you, and your mother has disappeared somewhere into the house. He helps you down and ruffles your hair affectionately. He was young once too it seemed, but your mind rebels at the thought of that.
He wishes you a happy birthday and hand's you a toy wooden shield with your house emblem on it, your eyes sparkle happily as you look up at him.
Now you are ready to begin!
Story 3
The sun sets. Shadows creep over dirty buildings and large factories, if it can even be said that there was sun above all the smog. The Forgotten Metropolis wakes in the coolness of the evening, and begins work.
You are on your way home from meeting with some of your friends on the other side of the tracks. You are neither rich nor poor, but one of those rare one's in between the system. Some would say that by being so you've fallen through the cracks of society.
Your parents work constantly to maintain the precarious balance they've made for themselves, leaving you to do as you please. You have some moralistic tendencies, but they hardly bother you for the most part. Somewhere deep inside you have the urge to get out of here. But fear holds you back to the metropolis like a leech not knowing where it's next meal is going to be.
Suddenly someone jumps out of the shadows and tries to drag you off. He's dirty, and carries a wooden shield that was practically falling apart, a slaver most probably, looking for an easy catch. He raises the shield now to knock you out, but surprisingly your faster then that. The other man had forgotten the knife at his belt, but your quick eyes had taken it in even before your arm had been grabbed.
You yank it out of his belt and jam it straight into his chest, miraculously plunging it in between the ribs and into the beating heart. Amazingly, your morals don't bug you about the now dead man on the ground, even when you take the blood-spattered shield. Going down the road you idley sketch your symbol in while it's still wet.
There would be questions, and the leech had just been knocked off the host. You would have to leave town, now.
Now you are ready to begin.
Story 1
The sun rises. It's light pours through the fields and valleys and settles on a city that's so beautiful, so mind boggling, that visitors fall to their knee's outside the gates, tears streaming down their faces as they gaze upon the wonder. This is the Crystal City, and this is your home.
People are getting up and going about they're daily rounds, they are clean, forthright, and rich. You, however, are one of the scruffier seeds that live in the underbelly. The dark secret that every city such as this holds, and tries to paint over as best it can.
Most noses are turned up as you scramble by, but you take no notice, mostly because you are so small that all noses are upturned in the eyes of someone level with most people's knees.
Normally people like you would be the nightlife in a city such as this, begging the rich drunks for a few coins to live for another day, but you are different. Every morning you make the trek to see the changing of the guards.
Their proud armour gleams in the new morning sunlight, blinding you for a second. Wings of every hue flash before your eyes. To you, they seem godly, magnificent, and something to aspire to.
The change is made, you are satisfied for another morning before the ache of hunger starts. Deep in the tunnels of the sewers you make your way home when you stumble over something wooden. It is a shield, battered, broken, but a chance! Stuffing it under your shirt you go home, and decorate it with whatever you can, choosing a symbol, and some colours that suit you.
Now you are ready to begin!
Story 2
The sun shines! It floods the fields that glow with butterflies, flowers, and long grass. It's wild here, like you. Your new clothes are a mess, your carefully arranged hair is likewise in shambles, and you know that your parents are going to kill you when you get home to the holding. But playing with the peasant children requires quite a lot of dirt, and if you try to be careful about it you get called a rich pansy. Spankings are much more preferable then the name-calling.
Trees pose no threat to you; the person you just tagged is the only danger. And then you hear the call of your mother from your house. Amazing how one woman's lungs can carry that far out if she's anxious enough. Apologies made all around you grab your horse and high tail it back to the semi-castle that is your house.
Your father, surprisingly is the one waiting there for you, and your mother has disappeared somewhere into the house. He helps you down and ruffles your hair affectionately. He was young once too it seemed, but your mind rebels at the thought of that.
He wishes you a happy birthday and hand's you a toy wooden shield with your house emblem on it, your eyes sparkle happily as you look up at him.
Now you are ready to begin!
Story 3
The sun sets. Shadows creep over dirty buildings and large factories, if it can even be said that there was sun above all the smog. The Forgotten Metropolis wakes in the coolness of the evening, and begins work.
You are on your way home from meeting with some of your friends on the other side of the tracks. You are neither rich nor poor, but one of those rare one's in between the system. Some would say that by being so you've fallen through the cracks of society.
Your parents work constantly to maintain the precarious balance they've made for themselves, leaving you to do as you please. You have some moralistic tendencies, but they hardly bother you for the most part. Somewhere deep inside you have the urge to get out of here. But fear holds you back to the metropolis like a leech not knowing where it's next meal is going to be.
Suddenly someone jumps out of the shadows and tries to drag you off. He's dirty, and carries a wooden shield that was practically falling apart, a slaver most probably, looking for an easy catch. He raises the shield now to knock you out, but surprisingly your faster then that. The other man had forgotten the knife at his belt, but your quick eyes had taken it in even before your arm had been grabbed.
You yank it out of his belt and jam it straight into his chest, miraculously plunging it in between the ribs and into the beating heart. Amazingly, your morals don't bug you about the now dead man on the ground, even when you take the blood-spattered shield. Going down the road you idley sketch your symbol in while it's still wet.
There would be questions, and the leech had just been knocked off the host. You would have to leave town, now.
Now you are ready to begin.
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