Human Race: User receives 20% exp from all sources; all heal items have +100% potency; +4% to all base stats.
Roleplay Bonuses: Humans of MidgaRO are similar to humans of our world, and remain the standard against which all other races are compared.
Max Height: F 5'2" - 5'8" M 5'9" - 6'2"
Common Hair Colors: Black, Brown, Red, Blonde, Grey (with age)
Common Eye Colors: Brown, Green, Blue, Grey, Hazel
Life Expectancy: 70 - 100 years
Age of Sexual Maturity: 15-18 years
Length of One Generation: 20 years
Personality Traits: Curious, Arrogant, Versatile, Emotional, Self-conscious.
Home World: Midgard
Humans are always the first creatures to re-inhabit Midgard after each Ragnarök. Born of Líf and Lífþrasir at the close of the war, the race adapted well to the fresh world they were given. With Ragnarök over, there were fresh resources and a blank slate for the race to work with. Only Líf and Lífþrasir's word kept religion alive, since the gods were still recovering from Ragnarök and did not yet take an active role in the world. Many listened to the stories with interest; others didn't believe in "such nonsense". These individuals split from the group to found their own religion, and would later go on to form the Church of Rune. A few years after the construction of the Church of Rune the Alfar and Svartalf came over to Midgard.
Later down the road a group humans went on to play at godhood, combining life magic with modern biotechnology. The Rekenber Corporation of Schwartzvald (in this cycle of Ragnarök), managed to create the four Furred races: the Kumiho, the Nanabozho, the Ailouros and the Lupus.
The construction of these furred races were for a number of different reasons, for example, slave labor. Slaves became so popular that they became marketed to those that could afford them. Marketing of the slaves became so popular that the Schwartzvald Republic became specifically known for their trafficking of the furred races. Rune-Midgard on the other hand mostly opposed slavery (even though Morroc & Comodo have slavery). Due to Rune-Midgard being against slavery they slowly became a safe place for slaves that managed to escape Schwartzvald to flee to.
With Rune-Midgard protecting the runaway slaves from Schwartzvald Republic tension between the two nations grew. The tension being so thick that many people aren't surprised that a war will happen very soon. In fact many people have gone on to writing about their feeling about the possible war, the most noteable being Decimus Massimo, a former Professor of the Yuno Sage Academy.
Included below are excerpts from Decimus Massimo's A History of Humanity, an older history text from the Schwartzvald Republic. Once used in classrooms all across the Republic, it was recently banned by the government for what they claimed was its "antiestablishmentarian viewpoint"; a systematic countrywide book-burning has made the book very hard to come by. More excerpts will be added as they are discovered - no whole copies of Massimo's book have survived the flames.
Slavery of the 'furred' races has been going on for sometime now. In a sadistic way slavery had proven to be beneficial for our race. Surprisingly the reason is not to fill the gruby hands with which we outstetch for zeny, and then some. The true reason is enlightenment. Through our natural chaotic ways we are able to highlight our true nature for all to see. No one in this ordeal is innocent either. Slavery has a relatively large impact on the economic stability of the regions. Rebenker Corporation, with their god complex created the perfect economic stimulus. With the creation of the 'furred' races the trade was established, the trade profits are spent - surely spreading profits globally through different kinds of trade, finally that money is distributed to the community in some sort of way. To dispute that one is innocent in this matter is both sophomoric and tarnishing on one's veracity. With that being said: it's hypocritical to criticize something you receive a profit from, but it's even more disgusting to create laws against it in a specific region.
Laws have been in the making process for some time in Rune-Midgard that are pro-slavery…..
Though I've visited almost every town each nation has to offer, and I can say assured that Rune-Midgard has slavery. The towns may come from shady backgrounds, but they are still infested with slavery. So it's only a matter of time till slavery in Rune-Midgard spreads like a horrible uncontrollable plague. So I'm not sure how much a runaway slave will receive coming to a nation just as tainted as the other they fled from.
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Honestly though I think Rune-Midgard is concocting some kind of 'plan'. I think they're using the slaves as propaganda to expand their power. Then again I trust Rune-Midgard almost as much as I trust a hungry hobo as I cheerfully skip down the street with an arm full of food. They may be against slavery -now-, but I'd be willing to bet my bottom zeny that they'll warm up to the customs of slavery in time. I think when or if the time comes I'll humbly sit and let the two major nations duke it out because really whoever wins we all lose anyways.
If the Schwaltzvalt Republic wins the old customary ways will be lost, and I wonder if religion will still be existing. Let me get off topic for a moment. The only thing Rune Midgard has going for it is religion, and even then the chruch is a lot of religious nut jobs. Back on track, if Rune-Midgard wins….well we've just supplied them enough power to become a tryant nation. What will stand in their way once the Schwaltzvalt Republic is gone? You're right, nothing…..
I only hope that I am not the only one who can this this possible action coming to play.
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Slavery is a hot topic these days because of the Schwaltzvalt Republic. Is it correct morally? Well my honest opinion is no, but they are proving to be a great source of income. I caught wind of some verbal garbage the other day though. It was something about a slave lacking a soul. I'm not one to easily become interested from gossip, but I became curious.
Apparently it is believed among most that since a slave is created by man it lacks a soul. That the only way a being may have a soul is for it to have been created by a god or the god. I'm not sure if I can agree with this statement. I think people are just making excuses so they won't feel bad about the horrible acts or punishments they put the slaves through…
Ashes from the book being burnt has made a good deal of this chapter non-readable.
The whole subject of how the slaves are treated irks me. Let me give an example a republic member would grasp. If you are using a machine that can easily overheat, and you push that machine to a high heating stage for too long….it's going to break. I'm not for getting rid of slavery, but the way 'most' people treat their slaves is disgusting.
Invoking a fear factor to your slave to try to get him to respect you out of fear is doom to fail. The only thing that comes from that kind of a situation is a pissed off slave, and a pissed off if not dead slave owner. The populous of the republic treats their slaves so horribly that I question whether I should even enlighten readers of this book of the kind hearted souls of the republic. I suppose I will for I am only an outside source, and you the readers choose what you want to do with the information I'm deposing to you.
Well among the darkness there is always a shred of light. In the republic there are a small group of individuals that do treat their slaves moderately…
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Well the republic isn't naive to the knowledge of escaping slaves. Everyone knows it happens, especially when you have Rune-Midgard who harbors/protects them. I've heard of a number of ways a slave has gained his/her freedom including: Murder, sneaking away, simply running, knocking their owner unconscious, bribing their owner (with anything), or simply paying for their freedom. Although I've never heard of a slave buying his/her freedom — a few slave owners have told me it is possible for a 'large price'.
Receiving no income from their masters some slaves had the opportunity to make money during off hours. During their off hours, some were allowed to work on their own for people who did not own slaves. Generally the master keeps the money, but sometimes slaves were allowed to keep it, or concealed it from their masters. So my conclusion on this topic was it was highly improbable that a slave could purchase his/her freedom through coin.
It appears someone has black lined a good bit of information out of this chapter
Some slaves like what they are, what they do, and the treatment they are given. I'm glad for that because if every slave ran away from the republic I could imagine things getting a whole lot worse for everyone.
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Laws in general are no joke. They maintain order, and stability if enforced. This is the soul reason why I like laws. I find the laws only pertaining to slaves to be most humorous. Slaves are considered 'property', and because of this all property laws coincide with slavery. If someone damages your slave then that person is responsible to pay a price for the said damage, and then get jail time. In contrast the owner of the slave is responsible for all acts a slave does.
So hypothetically let's say I owned a slave. My slave because of my poor skills as a master rebels against me, and as a result he escapes my custody. Later that evening my slave goes out, and attacks a couple of republic military police officers. My slaves only injures one of the men, and is apprehended by the officers. I am responsible for paying the medical bills for that officer's recovery, and additional payments (including therapy, etc). In addition to this I could possibly face minor jail time.
Another law which comes into effect is that if my slave escapes my custody, the law enforcers have the right to confiscate the slave instead of returning it to the owner. I think there is some kind of one strike policy when it comes to this law — before they merely confiscate your slave.
Personal my favorite laws in the republic has to do with the prostitution of the furred for private business like brothels. Slaves with the intent of public sexual services are strictly regulated by government officials. Members of the government's health board come in from time to time to inspect all the slaves registered to a specific business of erotica. All slaves from that point on are monitored constantly for the chance of spreading diseases.
It's good to know that the government is enforcing their laws. Over in the far region Rune-Midgard their laws are strict, and enforced as well. The runic laws though fall more under preserving the kingdom's property, and aiding to the king though.
It appears that there is more writing, but it's too illegible to read
All slaves must be collared in some form or another here in the Republic. I heard that the rare few free slaves do not have to wear collars, but I've never seen one to clarify this. Now I'm not sure how these collars specifically work, but I think it has something to do with blood magic. I wish I could go into more detail, but tracking down information on collars is like pulling teeth.
With the collars though a positive relationship forms between a slave and their master oddly. Sure I've heard of a lot of slaves hating their masters, but there is also a group which seem to relish in serving their masters. I think this may have something to do with the collars. It also could have to do very well with how the master maintains his slave/s.
Violent black marks are found scribbled over a large portion of the chapter making the said sections unreadable
Tension is always present between a slave, and his/her master. The slaves sometimes seeks freedom, and because of it stress that they will never be able to obtain it. In addition they may stress over the daily chores given to them or the work required of them. The master also has a lot to worry about as well. Feeding, housing, and clothing their slave/s. In addition to this the master also has to worry about their slave causing harm to someone or damaging property/equipment. Cause if a slave harms someone or damages property/equipment the owner of the said slave is responsible for paying.
In my eyes the whole master, and slave thing is doom to fail. In the cases where it does succeed…you find your relationship with your slave very strong. So strong in fact that metaphorically no weapon could destroy the chain binding you to your slave. Then again I could be mistaken cause after all slavery is still blossoming, and flourishing. Might have something to due with those collars…
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Our relationship with the alfs has always amused me. When they first appeared among us both sides were so distrusting. Especially us humans. Naturally when something new appears, and you don't know anything about it you get defensive. That is what the humans naturally did when they arrived. Accepting, but extremely distrusting. In return to the acceptances I think the alf choose not to start any conflicts with us, but they're overall presence felt antagonizing.
When they first spoke to us their tones were so implicitly condescending that one had to refrain from getting into a fight with them over something that wasn't said. I think their acceptance came with the aid of the Rune Church. The churches religion, and influence spread far…even to our region where a lot of us were Christians. With the church setting the example everyone else followed.
The tension over time between the alfs, and us lessened. We learned that they had not come with any malicious motives. In return the alfs began to show humans more respect. I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think it has something about how ambitious we are. I'll make a note to interview an alf for my next book.
Let's get back onto the subject of slavery. It is my perception that alfs do not favor slavery. I've never once heard of an alf voicing his or her opinion on the subject. It seems to me that they are avoiding the subject entirely. This may have something to do with them being guest of our world, and not wanting to intruder upon our conflicts. It could in fact have a deeper reasoning behind it though.
Perhaps a conflict among their own kind. I've noticed that the Svartalf and the Alfar do not seem to get along well with one another. It may be because of their own conflicts among each other that they choose not to meddle into our affairs.
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Kumiho Race: User receives +10% base INT; 20% SP; -20% SP costs; +25% MDEF.
Roleplay Bonuses: Profoundly enhanced sense of smell and a mildly enhanced sense of hearing.
Max Height: Female 5'2 - 5'5 Male 5'3 - 5'6
Common Hair Colors: White, Black, Red, Brown, Orange
Common Eye Colors: Black, Brown, Amber,
Life Expectancy: Avg. 50 - 70
Age of Sexual Maturity: 6-10 years
Length of One Generation: 12 years
Personality Traits: Intelligent, Fast Learners, Crafty, Devious, Judgmental, Curious, Reclusive
Home World:Midgard
Below are excerpts from the notes of Patricia Yeats, a biomedical engineer from the Sapience Project.
God complex: A narcissistic personality disorder. A term generally used to describe a person who consistently believes they can accomplish more than is humanly possible or that their opinion is typically above those they may disagree with
It could be said that the entire staff in Renkenber had one. Why else would someone choose to tamper with life in this manner? Creating false life from existing life. We were no better then the alchemists, with their creations of the homunculus, though that was what had started the idea. If they could create life from…a seed and some water…why couldn’t we create new life from pre-existing sources? That was the idea anyway. Melding human and animal life together to create an ideal life form.
By taking human genes and planting it into an animals system, we can create life forms with human intelligence. That was the theory at least, it always works out on paper. On paper, the new race would be called ‘Kumiho’, after the lore around Amatsu and Payon, the nine tailed fox could in myth transform into humans—-normally human women which would seduce men. I suppose we were bringing myth to life, but really we wanted something that was already intelligent, or good at learning for our first tests.
I’m not expecting much, but we needed to start somewhere.
The creation of the Kumiho at this point is a success by scientific terms, they are alive and growing on schedule. The growing period for the Kumiho was short by human standards, instead of the nine months it would take a human, it only took four-and-a-half months, which is longer then normally appearing fox…but considerably shorter then a human. There are no complications thus far. They appear to be growing at an expedited rate, already they are appearing clear eyed and intelligent. Of the three initial Kumiho one of them has died to unknown causes so far. I’m expecting a paper on the results any day now.
Side effects that were not expected, are the furred tails and ears that they both hold, though I cannot say this is a bad thing. If they are to walk among humans, Alfar and the Salvartalf at some point in their life—I see no reason for them not to have a racial difference. Some form of individuality. This won’t happen for many, many years, there is far too much we have yet to learn about them.
I’ve named them, despite orders not to. It’s hard to work with them without giving them names. Yobi is the female of the pair, her fur color is a golden hue similar to that of the original specimen. Even at this age Yobi plays shy with nearly everyone she comes into contact with. Hiding her face into the lab coat of the person who is holding her. Her brother on the other hand…
Li’s fur is a silver-grey fur type. If that were the only way we could tell them apart I would have been thankful. The male outcome of the Kumiho is a handful, getting into anything he can, crying whenever he is passed to a new person. (On an interesting note, their cries hold a sharp yelping sound—another carry-over from their fox half.)
Yobi and Li are only a year by human standards. Though they are developing a rate which seems to be double a human does. This is the terrible two phase…the screaming and crying in the middle of the night has stopped though, this is allowing me to sleep rather pleasantly. (Yes, I’ve taken to sleeping at work.) Right now even, both Yobi and Li are napping soundly leaning on either side of me.
I should be turning in soon myself, I’ll write when I can.
The tests are back on the stillborn Kumiho, causes are linked to a trauma the carrier received. I am just glad Li and Yobi managed to be spared. It's been…weeks now since I've written. The twins are months by human standards - though already as developed as a three year 3 year old (32 months.) They have begun to speak with other members of my team. They have even begun to understand the different personalities of the staff and figured what they can get away with when being watched by one member but not the other. With this comes the initial lying. "I didn't bite Yobi!" Meanwhile, the female Kumiho is in my lap nursing a small bite shaped wound. I believe they lie because they wish they hadn't caused harm - not because they are trying to pull something over our eyes.
My supervisor has been watching the twins for a few days now. They greet her with hand gestures when they see her now, they have picked up quickly that she is hard of hearing. She is happy with the results, but due to the range in the personalties and behaviors there are going to be more test subjects on the way soon. I will not be dealing with the new ones - these two are handful enough.
Another interesting development is how they watch people and then run to ask why it was someone reacted the way they did. One of my lab mates came in rather blue. Yobi was more curious then Li, though both showed an interest in trying to cheer him up. It is hard not to smile around the twins, they are balls of energy and wagging tails. Yobi is very proud of her tail and brushes is constantly; at least she understands grooming procedures.
It will be another few months before I am able to write again about the twins. I have my own child on the way - I will miss them terribly I just hope they remember be when I come back.
So, my baby girl has taken more of my time then I thought. It's been two years since I've been at work. The twins are about as grown as a pair of five year olds.(They are 30 months by human standards) They are learning to write, and catching on incredibly fast. As expected they both inherit the foxes ability to learn quickly and adapt to the situation. When presented with a problem the two work well in a pair but when more Kumiho are introduced they squabble. It stung slightly when the twins looked at me with unfamiliarity but a few hours with them and something sparked. They are sitting around me telling me stories even now as I write this. I've heard the stories several times now, the details getting more and more clear as they retell them filling in bits they had forgotten.
Yobi is still small framed, we had hoped she would grow a little more or at least catch up to her brother who is still small framed but has more muscle to him. It has been decided that I will only be coming in intermittently to repeat some tests and make sure things are running smoothly with them. I will see the twins in a years time. If they continue as they are now. They should be around functioning as seven year old humans. Here's hoping they manage well enough - Li has started to get chicken pox they will be in isolation from the other specimens though Yobi will be staying with him it is probable she already has contracted it. The hope is that this too passes quickly much like any of their other illnesses.
It was longer then I expected to return, Three years to be exact. There were several situations at the lab where I was not permitted to enter - the higher ups did not want my child's illnesses to be carried to the Kumiho, nor the Kumiho's to my child. There has already been talk of a new test subject, something not so well…crafty. I am unsure why this matters at this point, I thought intelligence was what we were aiming for. But they have restarted the tests with rabbits. A name is not yet given to these new tests but I am expecting that to change soon.
I personally am happy with how the twins are developing. They are around the human age of five-and-a-half; though again they are Ten-and a half "Kumiho years" They have started to show some muscle though they are clearly thinkers more then physical beings. Yobi has started to study art and language - going through more books, they have actually given her a fairly large textbook to learn from. She does not like it as much as her storybooks but it is keeping her busy. I haven't had the chance to go and see what the book is about, I am just hoping it is something relatively age appropriate.
Li on the other hand is into working with this hands, he is constantly doing puzzles and trying to solve math problems of any form. Right now he is sitting next to me with a scrunched up look on his face trying to figure out the newest math problem someone gave him. They are surprisingly wanting to try to teach the two of them alchemy and magic. I am expecting Li to be the one to learn alchemy, which means he is going to need to get over his dislike for reading boring textbooks. I personally think it is a poor idea to teach either of them alchemy, it strikes too close to home still. My supervisor wishes to speak with me, I will write when I am able, as always.
The Kumiho have reached the age of "twelve Kumiho years." Making them officially six years old today. We are celebrating their birthday now, Yobi has recieved several spell books and is already anti-social sitting away from everyone and flipping through the pages in seconds flat. Li got, as I had expected one alchemy book, and several bundles of materials. He needs to wait for several days before he can set his station up, but he is like his sister reading his books. It is only the three of us in the room now anyway, they know better then to wander off when people are here to see them.
They have grown up well, both of them Yobi is on the small side still, but we're not expecting that to change. She is very pretty, beautiful by human standards, though the tail may throw some young men off; but I've heard of some men chasing after a monster called "Moonlight Flower" and from the sketches I've seen of her, I'm not so sure. I've heard co-workers speak of this monster, and their voices change slightly as they speak of her. She must be a beauty as well. I wonder what her story is…
The twins both need their rest, and even though I know they will not sleep a wink until they have finished most of their books I think it best to leave them to their own.
I can't believe this! My supervisor has just informed me they will be selling the twins…the Kumiho race as slaves! This is what I spent my life devoted to? The creation of intelligent slaves? Already the Nanabozho are in creation for more docile slaves, they are even thinking of a third race! I just can't…Renkenber has surly gone mad…How could they sell these creatures into slavery…Li is looking at me with curious and worried eyes. He has already done as I've asked him, over the past six weeks he has created several bottle grenades, and Yobi has been practicing a wall spell, two of them really. I am hoping she will favor th ice, it will work better as a shield.
We need to wait just a little longer…I am getting nervous now…Renkenber has played with life far too much at this point. During the Sapience Project I was permitted to classified information about the somatology labs. As a curiously I ventured into the labs myself - what I saw there…was most disturbing. I need to get Li and Yobi out of Lighthalzen…out of Schwartzvald. Already my husband and daughter have left for Rune, I intend to meet them there as soon as I can, Li and Yobi will be with me or I will not make it at all. Both twins are getting more jumpy by the second…we need to leave now. If I am able to write again I will.
The hand-writing in this entry is significantly different then the past entries.
My brother and I have made it to Rune Midgard, we have been told to wear hats and tuck in our tails. We…will not be accepted as true citizens otherwise. We are too different, Li has taken up using an ax and assisting the guards in the Prontera culverts. I have taken to keeping him out of trouble. It is surprising how much he can get into, though I am sure he thinks the same about me. This…this journal holds our lives in it, cataloging how we grew, how we developed personalties. I know Patricia tried very hard to make it to rune with us…A man wielding a set of pistols shot her as we stepped through a warp portal that had been cast for us but a young man…I am very sure I dislike the feeling of warping. Before I stepped through I ran back to see if she was okay…she passed me this book just as Li pulled me into the blue light…I miss her dearly.
Li tries his best to be strong, but sometimes he even admits he misses her…he doesn't cry though, it seems he feels that he needs to be strong for me. Patricia told us while we were fleeing the labs that we should never return to Schwartzvald. I do not believe that Li and I will ever want to return to that place.
Signed Yobi
Nanabozho Race: User receives +20% base LUK; +20% landspeed; High Jump 5; +10% CRIT.
Roleplay Bonuses: Nanabozho have a profoundly enhanced sense of hearing and a mildly enhanced sense of smell.
The furred races were created by humans. The scientists who did it were just doing it to see if it could be done - if animals could be made into sentient hominid forms. The people who provided the corporate backing wanted perfect slaves - subhuman creatures with the intelligence to do tasks but none of the rights of a human. Since they were "just animals" and thus did not have a "soul" according to the Church, there was no opposition to their enslavement.
Max Height: F 5'3 - 5'6 M 5'4 - 5'7
Common Hair Colors: White, Brown, Black
Common Eye Colors: Red, Grey, Brown, White, Blonde
Life Expectancy: Avg. 50 - 70
Age of Sexual Maturity: 6-10 years
Length of One Generation: 12 years
Personality Traits:Energetic, Playful, Happy, Jittery, and Oblivious.
Home World:Midgard
Since the Kumiho were considered a failure as slaves, the scientists were encouraged by their corporate backers to try again. This time a more docile, less crafty animal was requested - rabbits were suggested. As prey animals (instead of predatory like foxes) it was assumed they would be easier to handle.
The converted rabbits seemed ideal at first. They were intelligent enough to be slaves, had enough muscle to do work, but enough dexterity to handle finer tasks as well. The problem was their flighty nature. They scared easily; moreover, there were problems with escapees simply hopping the walls. Their powerful leg muscles made it very difficult to fence them in.
"Here's hoping nobody finds this. …well, somebody, eventually. Just not… you know what? You get the idea.
To whomever ends up reading this, first off let me express my sincerest hope you're not one of the wardens. Or you're that guy on floor three with the handlebar mustache. You brought me this pen! Thanks.
Agh! I'm rambling again. Sorry… mysterious reader-person… dammit I am apologizing to a piece of paper ANYWAY
This, if I can ever get my act together, will be a journal of my experiences. One of the doctors back at the lab used to keep a journal (he called it a "lab notebook") and he said it helped him through the rougher times, so I'm giving this a shot. Maybe it'll help me.
We've been moved to the Containment Units pending "sale", whatever that means. I don't have the firmest grasp of this language yet… comes from being raised by scientists I guess. I can tell you what an icosahedron is, but I can't tell you what "sale" is. Honestly I'm lucky I even learned to write - you can thank Dr. Miller for that. (Also the guy who kept a journal… and who told me what an icosahedron is. It's kind of this weird ball-shaped prism with twenty triangular sides or faces and I'M RAMBLING AGAIN AUGH ANYWAY
furious, incomprehensible scribbling
So you get the gist of what this is. Journal, experiences, maybe someone somewhere will read this and get a laugh out of it. Who knows? Maybe I'll read this to my kids someday."
So I learned what "sale" is. It's another word for "trade". You give someone something, and they give you something else of similar value in exchange.
Except… the thing being saled was us. Me specifically, and a couple of my siblings. And apparently all we're worth is a briefcase full of paper. Kind of a downer. I thought the doctors liked us… guess not.
Anyway, as you can tell from the heading at the top of the page, we have a new home now. The men who bought us moved us to a new set of Containment Units after a short ride in an airship. The airship ride was awesome! Did you know clouds are just big billows of smoke? They're not hard or anything! You can just fly right through the- rambling, sorry.
Right. New home. Slightly less dank than the doctors' Containment Units, but also slightly less clean. Smells less like aldehydes and ketones though! (Apparently aldehydes and ketones are what make the weird light-headed smells in the doctors' labs. And alcohols. But not "booze"… whatever that is. Apparently that was supposed to be a joke? The other doctors kinda chuckled at dammit stop rambling
The new people who own us (kind of a weird concept, being "owned", but I can ramble about that later) have "jobs" for us to do. They're kinda like the tests the scientists had us do, except with less wires and needly bits and zappers. Most of it's pretty easy in comparison… it just takes longer to do. Instead of running on a treadmill it's running from one camp to another with a "wheelbarrow" full of stuff.
The food is better too! Lots more plants. Some of it is kind of greasy (like when they made "fried potatoes"), but it all tastes so much better than the packaged stuff we got at the labs.
And we get playtime. Whenever we're not doing "jobs" or eating or sleeping we're allowed to just… do whatever we want. There's rules, like we can't be annoying to our owners and we can't break anything, but there's this huge grass field at the base of the mountain and we get to play in it for like a half hour at a time every couple of jobs.
This is actually kinda nice.
We've been here a month so far, and "jobs" have been getting fewer and fewer. Normally I wouldn't be complaining, but food's been getting smaller in portions too, and I think there's a correlation. (Correlation is a doctor word for "one happens because of the other." Dr. Miller used it a lot.)
I tried talking to our owners about it, but I kind of got the brush-off. Maybe it's a human thing… the doctors used to do the same thing when we asked them important questions. Just "Not now, I'm busy. This is more important." Apparently their papers are more important than our food.
Hold on, a truck just showed up. I'm curious now.
Okay, I'm back. Sorry that took so long. (I am apologizing to a piece of paper. Something's wrong here.) …so if you're wondering why the heading just changed from "Hungry" to "Training", it's because of the people in the truck from before.
Apparently we're being sold again. (It's not saled, apparently. It's sold. Grammar confuses me.) The people who bought us the first time can't "justify keeping us anymore", since the work in the area is disappearing. (Ouch.) So we got sold to this company further up the mountain. For… more paper. Do humans eat paper or something? I've never seen anyone eat the stuff but they sure do base a lot of their days around papers of various sizes and colors. Rambling. Sorry.
We have to go through "training", whatever that is. From the descriptions it sounds kind of like the tests the doctors used to run. Dammit… I liked jobs better. Oh well.
Maybe the food will be better.
I was right, training is a lot like the tests. Shorter though. Apparently it's to teach us how to use "machinery" (means little metal tools) to do jobs with. I'm just happy to have jobs again.
Oh, and food! Lots more food. I was surprised at how much food. Supposedly it's to help us keep our strength up. (Apparently I say apparently too much, I got laughed at for it. Gonna try and find different words. Ca— …I'd ask you to catch me if I say it too often, but you're a piece of paper and I am talking to a piece of paper that I am writing on this is entirely too weird anyway journaling
Our new jobs involve finding shiny rocks. Yes, as stupid as that sounds, that is our job. We go in this big hole in the side of the mountain, we follow the paths inside to spots marked with spraypaint, and we use the "machinery" to dig out chunks of rock. We then run the rocks through more "machinery" to separate the boring brown rocks from the rocks with bits of shiny in them. Then we cart the shiny rocks out, where they go to a big house that smells like a combination of doctors-lab and fire. The sign says "Refinery". Remind me to ask what a "refinery" is if we ever get out of here.
Oh! That reminds me. You're probably wondering why the heading is "Failure"! (You the reader, not you Mr Piece of Paper. I remembered why I was talking before. …don't get mad, Mr Paper. …if you can read this.) One of the new rabbits they bought (they bought other rabbits after us! Their truck driver said something about "nanabozho", which is what some of the doctors used to call us - but I don't recognize any of these guys, so I dunno where they came from. Anyway rambling) One of the new rabbits they bought was supposed to use the Red Bang (they call it "dynamite", at least I think that's how it's spelled, it's what's written on the side of the sticks. We call it Red Bang because it's red and it goes bang. Rambling sorry) supposed to use the Red Bang to open up a new tunnel for more rock-digging. Instead they accidentally closed the old tunnel. Which we're all still in. Failure.
Oh well, we still have the lunch cart. Considering how fast we can move rocks, we shouldn't be in here long. Just taking a break for food before we go dig ourselves out.
So! Apparently we're stuck in here awhile. (Yes I said apparently again, get over it.) We started digging our way out, but one of the owners was on the other side of the wall. He started yelling about how we couldn't move the rocks because they'd "become load-bearing", and doing so would cause the tunnel to collapse. I don't know what load-bearing means, but it looks kinda like "heavy to carry", and I could have told him they were heavy a long time ago - we've been hauling these things for a week now by the cartful. I dunno how moving something heavy is supposed to make the tunnel collapse, we've been moving heavy carts full of rocks with no problems. The only thing that made the tunnel collapse was the Red Bang. Bleh. Whatever.
Anyway, stuck in here awhile until they can "shore up the tunnel". Took the time to explore the mines. They go back quite a ways. Nothing lives in here really… there's a pool of water wayyyy in the back with some weird looking fish, and there are some mushrooms that grow around the edges of the pool. They're delicious! The fish are creepy though.
Oh, we have these lights on our hats! Did I tell you about the lights? They're so we can see in the dark. It's so cool! They shoot this beam of light for like hundreds of feet and suddenly you can see in the dark! It scared the creepy fish though. Eh. They're creepy.
One of the owners is yelling through the hole in the collapsed bit of the tunnel. Be right back.
Sorry if I'm a little loopy, I'm on some weird pain drugs. They drugged me up after the mine collapsed.
The humans used the Red Bang to blow a hole in the rocks after shoring up the tunnel. They didn't do a good job though. The tunnel collapsed as they were trying to evacuate the mine.
Ten rabbits and two humans, counting me, are stuck in the mine. One of the humans is a doctor. When the tunnel collapsed some of us got hit by falling rocks. I can't use my leg, and my right eye is blurry from when I got hit in the head.
This all feels dreamlike. Not sure if it's the drugs or the hit in the head. Doctor said something about a concussion, and to try and stay awake. So I'm writing. It helps me stay focused.
Drugs are wearing off. Head hurts. Suddenly really tired. Need to stay awake
Two of the rabbits died. One bled to death. Other was put down when they saw they couldn't save her. Doctor is talking with people on radio. Still trying to stay awake. Haven't slept yet.
Doctor looks worried. Radio-guy said something to him. They dragged my stretcher towards the collapsed tunnel. Confused
they blasted the rocks getting pulled from cave rock hit me in face though kinda bleeding stay awake
The entries stop here.
Ailouros Race: User receives +10% base DEX, +20% HP; Doubled HP recovery; Backslide.
Roleplay Bonuses: Ailouros have mildly enhanced senses of smell and hearing. Their main "boosted" attributes are their lightning reflexes.
The furred races were created by humans. The scientists who did it were just doing it to see if it could be done - if animals could be made into sentient hominid forms. The people who provided the corporate backing wanted perfect slaves - subhuman creatures with the intelligence to do tasks but none of the rights of a human. Since they were "just animals" and thus did not have a "soul" according to the Church, there was no opposition to their enslavement.
Max Height: F 5'3 - 5'9, M 5'5 - 6'1
Common Hair Colors: White, Black, Grey, Brown, Blonde, Orange, Red
Common Eye Colors: Green, Blue, Brown, Yellow, rarely Purple
Life Expectancy: Avg. 50 - 70
Age of Sexual Maturity: 6-10 years
Length of One Generation: 12 years
Personality Traits:Lazy, Crafty, Seductive, Two-faced, and Impulsive.
Home World:Midgard
The scientists were encouraged to try once again after the Nanabozho. This time they opted on cats - an animal that had been long domesticated. They figured that since the animal was already used to living with humans, it wouldn't be so prone to escaping.
Initial tests with female cats were perfect. The females were docile, subservient to strong authority figures, and intelligent enough to perform any work given them - from housework, to child-rearing, even secretarial work.
But trials with males were disastrous. While the male cats were strong enough for heavy lifting and gruntwork (which was requested by the corporations backing the project) the scientists didn't take into account the male propensity for dissidence. As driven by hormones as they were pre-conversion, they rejected authority, even becoming downright violent when enslavement was attempted.
While limited success in controlling them was enabled through neutering the cats post-conversion, this mandated that a few cats be kept un-spayed in order to continue breeding lines. These "unsnipped" (as the corporate reporters labeled them) would continually make problems for their keepers, prompting the corporations to ask for one more try.
Aside from the wolves, the second-most popular request is, ironically, for "catgirls". Sexual trafficking in converted female-cats, due to their docile nature and exotic appearance (as well as the lack of anti-prostitution laws regarding animals) is a very profitable venture, one the corporations have latched onto greedily.
The following entries are taken from journals of Marcus Velyreux and his Ailouros slave Miriallia.
My name is Marcus Velyreux, I'm 19 years of age, and I just bought a slave. This is my story.
I'm still not sure why I agreed to this… eh, let me explain. I moved off to college on my 18th birthday, taking classes in alchemy at Rekenber University in Lighthalzen. (My choices were that or banking - my parents refused to fund anything else. I guess alchemy is better than banking.)
At first it seemed like a pretty sweet deal. My parents are pretty well off - my father is a banker in Einbroch, and my mother is an alchemist with Rekenber's R&D department. (Sound familiar? There's a reason they'd only fund those two careers of study.) They own a small chateau within walking distance of the campus, and they were going to let me live in it.
I thought this would be awesome, right? Living on my own, going off to college - I'd get to meet people! Except… no, I wouldn't. My parents have the place warded for security, which is pretty normal. But the wards also include a body counter - and if the body count in the chateau ever gets too large, well… let's just say I'm not allowed to party. In fact, I'm not even allowed to have roommates. Not for awhile, not until they're comfortable I'm "properly focused on studies" and "academically successful".
Let me clarify a bit. I've never really gotten to have friends. My parents are wealthy, remember? This means they could afford private tutors and a huge secluded mansion - a fact they took ample advantage of. (They're more than slightly xenophobic of other people, outside their little social circles of workmates and other snooty rich folk.) Instead of letting me go to school, even a private school, they hired tutors to come to the mansion and teach me their own, personal curriculum. I've never really had the chance to meet people outside my immediate family… and even then, most of them are the same kind of people my parents are. Snooty rich folk.
When I complained to my parents after a month about how I was lonely, they took it completely the wrong way. They assumed I wasn't able to properly take care of myself on my own, and immediately added a deposit to my stipend. They instructed me to go buy myself a slave with the money, to "help look after me." I know better than to try and oppose them on a decision… and if nothing else it'll be nice to have a house that isn't -completely- empty.
So here I am, walking through the Southern Market with a new slave's chains wrapped around my wrist. Her name is Miriallia, she's a gorgeous brown-haired Ailouros female, and apparently I got her for "a steal" at only two million zeny.
Not five minutes ago she was red-faced and angry as I collared her, the magicks doing… something, to her body. I don't know. She's gotten quite sullen since then. I asked her a few questions, but she's not nearly as responsive as she was before the collar went on… I hope she's okay.
I can't help but sigh as I open the door and guide her into the carriage that's waiting to take us back to the chateau. Sigh, shake my head, and wonder if this wasn't a terrible idea.
Only time will tell.
My name is Miriallia Vel..Velyreux? I think that's how it works right? I'll need to ask Marcus later if I am supposed to take his last name..since I didn't have one. I am, 8 years old, which makes me..roughly around Marcus's age if I were a human.
I felt bad for him, I really did…and I dont' think that's normal - even as he led me away from the holding area where I was being sold from he looked so awkward, the chain attached to my collar coiled tightly around his hand. We didn't say a whole lot on the way to the Registrars office, what were we going to say really?
He had to fill out some paperwork at the office, and he was just as nervous there. I considered running, but I took a step away from him and the guards tensed just watching me. Cause, there was even a chance I could get past two armed guards - and they could tell if i had weapons on me…the clothing I was sold in didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination…if I had a weapon they'd know. I sneered at them and leaned against the desk quietly for a few moments till he decided he was finished his paperwork.
'I, uhm… what's your name? …do you have a name? I'm Marcus.'
He was awkward, he didn't want me. I don't know if that upset me or not. "Miriallia..Mir if you'd prefer it." I was catutious as I finally looked him over, he didn't look so stong that I couldn't get away later if I needed to. "It's nice to meet you." Boy did that sound fake, he didn't want me and I didn't want to be near him really. "Where is it exactly you live?" I hadn't been around the city but I could figure out sort of..maybe. I didn't listen to his response, I had busied myself with looking around once again.
Do you mind if I call you Mir?
He could call me what every he wanted really. I didn't care. The man walked in with a black case in his hands instantly I didn't like what I was hearing from the man as he explained the collar. Marcus has to place his blood on the plate to activate it, he winced…I'm not going to lie was glad it hurt him.
He turned to me with the collar, and looked at me like he felt bad about the situation. Stupid human. He stepped towards me and I took a step back from him and watched the gaurds from the corner of my eye. I could only force myself to stand still as he snapped the collar around my neck.
It's hard to describe exactly what I was feeling at that moment, I'm told that its different for every slav—furred. Different for every furred. My skin just felt hot. I thought the collar was broken, I was certain it shouldn't be doing this. But no one seemed phased by my blush. He led me to the carriage I am very sure I stepped on his heels several times in the short distance.
It was some time before he spoke even after we were in the carriage.
Are you alright? The… the pamphlet didn't exactly describe what would happen when the collar went on…
"I'm…" I thought of what I could possibly say in the situation, there was nothing really to say. "…fine." The collar was still itching, and it was uncomfortable wearing both collars…he hadn't removed my transporting one yet. "Wearing two of these isn't exactly comfortable though…"
Boy, was he smooth.
"Oh! Sorry… sorry…" Silently cursing my lack of thought I fumbled with her second collar, snapping the chain onto the permanent collar before unclipping and discarding her transport collar. "…didn't think of that…" I tried to explain, sounding (I'm sure) more and more like an idiot with every passing word.
In case you haven't gathered from the previous entry, I don't have a lot of experience with women. I don't even have a sister… and since my mother spent more time at home than my father, all of the slaves were male.
Well, all the ones I got to see, anyway.
A minute or so of silence passed before I realized that the carriage hadn't started moving. Face now quite red, I leaned out the window and signaled for the driver to take us home, then snapped the window shut and tried to hide my blush from my new companion.
Said companion was quietly twirling her tail, her face a mix of uncertainty and shyness. She ended up breaking the silence, asking me "Why an Ailouros?"
"I didn't really think about it… the breeder was kind of pushing to sell an Ailouros. Your-you're new," -Smooth catch, Marc, I thought to myself sarcastically- "…and I guess he's just trying to build up a market presence. He made it sound like a deal, and I wasn't… I wasn't really thinking about it."
Before I could stop to think I found myself explaining the whole situation to her. "I didn't… I didn't really want this. I was all excited to go off to college because I'd heard from all my cousins and all my tutors that college is when you meet new people and make friends… and…" I trailed off, chuckling kinda weakly to try and cover up how awkward I felt. "…I'm not exactly popular, you can probably tell."
"But my parents… decided it "wasn't proper" for a boy of their stock to be fraternizing with the "common rascals" at a university," I explained, unconsciously adopting my father's aristocratic twang as I recited his reasoning. "I'm not allowed a roommate, I'm not allowed to go to parties really. Not till I can convince them to let me." Running out of things to say, I stared off out the window for a minute or two, waiting for her to respond. She didn't.
"…I didn't really want… I just bought a sla— I bought you," I corrected myself, blushing- "…because they told me to. But I didn't want a slave." Finally managing to tear my vision away from the non-threatening sky to look Miriallia in the face, I explained that "All I really wanted was a friend. And I don't… I don't know if that's even possible now. Not like this."
Did he actually just say because I was new? "Oh yea, heaven forbid you buy a used one?" He was awkward it wasn't hard to tell he wasn't sure what to say, or how to speak to me. Not because I was a furred, but because I was female. I listened curiously getting ready to speak as he started into the entire story of why he ended up buying me.
I know I winced when he started to call me a slave, he tried to correct it which I…was touched by. "…what is it you studying?" he seemed to be the smart type, something involving alot of books - it was only a guess. But he just struck me as that kind of person. He was an alchemist, it sort of fit - and for me it could have been worse, his other profession would have been in banking…gods that would have been boring. Alchemey could be fun…I think…maybe…kay probably not, I'll probably be cleaning alot of messes.
"Also, before you go thinking I'm like a pet - don't. I don't need to go out for walks and I DO NOT use a litter box." Thoughts came back to me as I remembered the collar around my neck, slowly I felt myself scowling. "Some old man actually asked us that…about the litter box I mean, asked one of the Lupus men if they needed to be walked regularly..the Lupus was not happy about that one…" Remembering the face of the Lupus who was asked, I smiled softly. If he were more wolf then he was I'm sure he would have tried to bite the human who asked.
"It…doesn't matter what you call me, I am what I am. Slave, furred, Miriallia, Mir…pet." She gestured to the collar "You're the one who holds the keys really."
"You're not my pet, Miri. Even if you'll never think of me as a friend, I don't… I don't have it in me to be cruel to you. Or to anyone, really. You'll be fed regularly, you're not going to have any particularly difficult or time consuming tasks… I won't beat you, and you'll be able to sleep soundly at night. I don't think I could overpower you even if I wanted to."
How could I not think of him as a friend? He was sort of rambling, I think for his benifit or my own I'm not really sure. "If it ever came to overpowering me, I think it would be more the fact that I can outrun you." I touched his shoulder softly, he had turned from me while speaking - I made him feel bad about the situation. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad Marcus, I'm…not graceful with my words. What does that thing say about my collar anyway? I've only had the old one on before." A quick gesture to it where it lied on the floor and I turned back to him curiously - I wanted to know if it was broken or not.
"Your collar? The book is… kind of iffy on details. Let's see… summary of function, basic commands, advanced command structures, common issues, maintenance procedures… you can see it yourself, if you want."
He stopped as he held the paper out to me, like an idiot I was already reaching for it hesitantly —
"…can you read..?"
"I…No…I know how to clean…and sort of how to cook…menial tasks like that I can do, I can't read and I don't know my numbers really well, I can copy something down though if I have it in front of me - I can't understand what I am copying but I can still do that." I remember moving away from him embarrassed, I probably seemed fairly useless to him, I couldn't even read, he was studying something that involved more reading then anything else. "You probably shouldn't have paid as much for me…I'm not..that useful as the other older Ailouros that were with me."
I'm not sure why, but it was reassuring to see that she was just as nervous as I was. It gave me enough nerve to reach over and gently take her hands. "I can teach you, then," I reassured her. "It's not that hard to learn."
"And the money?" I had to fight back the urge to laugh, only partially succeeding. "It's my parents' money. I don't care how much you cost… it's just nice to have someone else in the house."
As if the gods themselves were reacting to my statement, the cart juttered to a stop, signaling that we'd arrived at the chateau. The door swung open and I got to my feet, giving Miri a gentle tug to help her to her own. "We're here… coming inside?"
Miri stumbled a bit as she went to leave the carriage, tripping over her own leash - in my embarrassed haste, I forgot to grab the damn thing. She seemed to take it in stride, giggling as she scooped up the end of it and passed it to the hand that wasn't holding her own. "You're pretty bad at this," she joked, "…or I've only heard the awful stories from the other furred."
"Maybe a bit of both," I replied, inwardly glad she was warming up to me. I was more than a little awkward as I took the leash's end from her, but I could feel the ice melting between us. It was a nice feeling - I decided to press it a bit. "Do I even really need to take this?" I asked, jingling the end of the chain-leash for emphasis.
It was at that point that the fence crackled to life behind us, the SNAP of electricity making Miri jump. The carriage had just left the premises, the gate swinging closed behind it automatically - which triggered the lightning wards to reactivate. For obvious reasons I immediately felt like an asshole, and attempted to explain myself - "Yeah… parents are… kind of xenophobic…" I trailed off, watching as she turned to stare at the now-electrified fence. A halfhearted chuckle did nothing to alleviate the embarrassment I felt. "I'd… really meant "Do you really want to run away that badly", but honestly the fence works too…"
Miri, to her credit, had recovered from the surprise quite quickly. "It probably keeps the porings out…" she joked halfheartedly, running her hands through the air over the fence as if feeling the electricity buzz beneath her fingers. She turned to face me, head tilted curiously - "If you're the only one who lives here… isn't this a little much?"
"I'm not the only thing in the house, Miri," I tried to explain. "My parents store a lot of stuff in that chateau… books, furniture, spare wardrobes… honestly, I think the wards are more to protect their stuff than their son," I finished, shrugging.
Miri didn't really respond to that, head tilted down to stare at the ground while she thought. "…I don't like that fence," she finished, nodding resolutely at said fence. "I won't be running away… but I still don't like that fence." That decision made, she tilted her head to look at me. "What's xenophobic?"
I chuckled. "It's… kind of a complex word. At its core it means "afraid of things that aren't themselves," although most people use it to mean "afraid of foreigners" or "afraid of other species." With my parents, though… I think it's closer to the core meaning."
Miri nodded softly, still frowning. "…they must be lonely people," she murmured, twirling the leash absently in her fingers. She gathered the slack of the leash as she followed me up the stairs to the front door, commenting that "you should probably get a shorter leash… I'm either going to be tripping a lot or I'm gonna have to walk really far away from you."
My response was to reach over, unclip the leash, and hurl the gathered thing into the fountain to rust. "That's entirely enough of that," I replied, grinning at her surprised response. "I don't know how you're ever going to learn to trust me with that jangling travesty around your neck." She stared at the partially-submerged leash, murmured something about it not being good for the fountain, then looked up at me with a new bit of confusion in her eyes. I just guided her towards the front door.
She went to open the door for me, then flinched back, remembering what I'd said about wards. "There isn't electricity in the doorknob or anything, is there..?" At least she was learning quickly. I shook my head and opened the door, showing her my hand afterwards to prove that I was unharmed.
"See? Perfectly safe." She nodded and started into the house, stopping stock-still as I added, "So long as I'm here, the stairs won't light on fire or anything." The ensuing stare made me giggle.
"So, I'll just… not… touch anything at all then," she replied, wrapping her tail around her waist a little worriedly. "Burnt fur can't smell good." She fell into step close behind me as I led her through the house, never going more than a few feet from me. "I think the proper word for your parents is "paranoid"…" she added, which made me laugh.
"Eh, this house is pretty much abandoned when I'm not here, Miri," I explained, still trying to keep the chuckle out of my voice. "If not for the spells this place would have been robbed twice over…" I gestured around at the entryway - despite having been lived in for a month now, I still hadn't managed to completely chase away the dust bunnies or the various colonies of spiders. I doubted I ever would.
"Care for the grand tour?"
I couldn't help but blush as he grabbed my hand, more over he was going to teach me to read. I wouldn't be useless, maybe. It was nice to feel wanted, he wanted a friend, someone to talk to really he was lonely. My situation could have been worse, it really could have. Marcus saved me, I was slowly starting to realize this now. The carriage slowed and then stopped completely. Marcus was calm enough so I tried not to look panicked.
We're here..coming inside?
He tugged softly on my hand he pulled me gently out the door - to my own fault, I tripped over the leash which was still attached to my neck. I…was unsure if I should hold on to it myself or hand it to him. Deciding that the safer idea was to hand it to him I held it to his hand…the one that wasn't occupied with my own. "You're pretty bad at this…or I've only heard the awful stories from the other furred." I can honestly say, the little conversation we had in the carriage helped me warm up to him - he wasn't as bad as I had heard humans could be.
Maybe a bit of both, Do I even really need to take this?
He led me a little further into the yard. Immediatly I saw a large fence around it, I could if I wanted to badly get over it…that is till it shut. The moment the gate closed after the carriage the fence into life, electricity running through it. I could hear it hum through the metal I could almost feel it. I was drawn to the fence out of curousity, running my hand a few inches over the air near the fence. "It probably keeps the porings out…" I was confused if he was the only one who lived here, why such an extent to keep people out? "If you're the only one who lives here…isn't this a little much?"
I'm not the only thing in the house, Miri. My parents store a lot of stuff in that chateau… books, furniture, spare wardrobes… honestly, I think the wards are more to protect their stuff than their son.
I instantly decided I didn't like his parents. How could someone care more for thier stuff then their son. I would be a thing to…I wasn't a person. I shook the thoughts from my mind. He had used a word I had never heard, and I was curious - if I was going to learn to read I'd need to learn new words and what they meant. "What's xenophobic?"
"It's… kind of a complex word. At its core it means "afraid of things that aren't themselves," although most people use it to mean "afraid of foreigners" or "afraid of other species." With my parents, though… I think it's closer to the core meaning."
I nodded slowly thinking about they kind of people they must be, careing more for things then blood, and afraid of…well things not them. I really didn't like them. "…They must be lonely people." I made an offhand comment about my leash being too long, and he simply reached over unclipped it and then tossed it into the fountain…to rust and possibly discolor the stone it was made of.
That's entirely enough of that, I don't know how you're ever going to learn to trust me with that jangling travesty around your neck.
He was leading me towards the door, and I was getting ready to open it for him - to be useful, and then I remembered the fence and pulled my hand back. "There isn't electricity in the doorknob or anything, is there..?" It was really the last thing I needed, I don't imagine it would feel good to touch that fence, if the door was anything like that I was going to be a very unhappy kitten. He opened the door without anything happenign to him, then made a comment about the stairs not catching fire if he was around…I don't like his parents and I don't like his house.
As a nervous habit my tail coiled around my waist, "So, I'll just… not… touch anything at all then, burnt fur can't smell good." He continued leading me through the house I made a point to stay close to him, but not to step on him - I didn't want him knowing I was nervous. "I think the proper word for your parents is paranoid."
I didn't really catch what he said afterward as I was staring around the room.
Care for the grand tour?
I had my work cut out for me, dust and spiders were seen in…most of the areas he wasn't in frequetly. The building was huge from what I had seen outside."I just need to know what's going to hurt if I touch it…Wouldn't you be better putting someone here to watch it? Rather then the spells…what if for some reason one of them doesn't work and you get hurt by it?"
Like I said, I don't think my parents are too concerned with that possibility.
Did I mention I disliked his parents? He made me touch a blue stone, adding in that the house knew me now…that didn't help me like the building anymore then before. Buildings aren't supposed to "know" people. He hadn't let go of my hand, I wasn't complaining but he blushed and got awkward once again.
…sorry. …so uhm… house? Want to see it? Or..?
"I don't like the idea of the house knowing me anymore then I like the idea of the lightning-gate or fire-stairs." my tail curled tight around my waist as I wrinkled my nose glaring around at the house. "You don't have any pets? It's really just you? What about one of those sheep things I see with the other..potion makers…?"
We went through the tour of the house, I looked around curiously and knew I'd lose myself at some point, I had the options of sleeping in my own guest room or the slave quarters attached to his room. I had originally decided to sleep in the slave quarters in the event Marcus needed me - and yes. I was scared of the place, what if I got up in the night and something set me on fire? I didn't like this house. I was cold that night, but not as cold as I would have been still in my cage, I didn't bother to look for the spare blankets as I went to sleep.
Lupus Race: User receives +10% base VIT; +25% DEF(Gear based); Full Adrenaline Rush; Charge Attack.
Roleplay Bonuses: Lupus have a profoundly enhanced sense of smell and a mildly enhanced sense of hearing.
The furred races were created by humans. The scientists who did it were just doing it to see if it could be done - if animals could be made into sentient hominid forms. The people who provided the corporate backing wanted perfect slaves - subhuman creatures with the intelligence to do tasks but none of the rights of a human. Since they were "just animals" and thus did not have a "soul" according to the Church, there was no opposition to their enslavement.
Max Height: F 5'2" - 5'8" M 5'9" - 6'2"
Common Hair Colors: Grey, Brown, Blue, White, Black, Red
Common Eye Colors: Yellow, Brown, Blue, Grey
Life Expectancy: Avg. 50 - 70
Age of Sexual Maturity: 6-10 years
Length of One Generation: 12 years
Personality Traits: Loyal, Tenacious, Defensive, Protective
Home World:Midgard
Dogs and wolves were the last species the Rekenber Corporation attempted the Sapiation Experiment on.
This worked perfectly. Female wolves were strong enough to do light manual labour, but still gentle enough to do housework; male wolves were perfect for heavy labour and grunt-work. Furthermore, all of them responded well to the presence of a strong overlord figure - pack mentality, after all, was in their blood.
It is for this reason the vast majority of slaves produced were of the genus Lupus.
Castration is unnecessary, since the wolves raise their children to be deferential to the "pack leader" from birth. As long as the slaves are treated well and given something to do, risk of escapism is remarkably low. The only economic downside is feeding them - they have voracious appetites, and attempts to convert their dietary requirements into an omnivorous one similar to humans' own have all ended… poorly. They require large stocks of meat, causing a subsequent boom in the cattle and poultry industries. The other downside is merely an aesthetic one - they must be allowed to hunt and kill the animal themselves. Or the slave owner must do it, as his duty as "pack alpha" in order to maintain presence as their leader. Recently, however, there have been mixed reports of some third and fourth generation packs becoming accustomed to smoked and even cooked food.
Reckenber Corp. Alchemical Genetics Deparment.
CASE FILE: sap_conversion_04 (Significant Excepts)
CLEARANCE LEVEL: Magenta Green
AUTHOR: Dr Su*Illegible*
A successful recombinant confirmed. The difficulties with restricting the lapin genome seem to have vanished with this new subject. We’re hoping that sort of tractability follows this project in its final stages. The gamete infusion and insemination were equally without a hitch, and our first sapiation experiment with the new subject is currently dividing away happily in a growth chamber. Implantation into a host will not be necessary. After Dr. Y’s emotional issues with the Kumiho implantation, we will be hard-pressed to miss that step. As long as safety procedures are followed, there should be no issue with the Fourth Subject.
Gestation has gone on a month longer than anticipated. Preliminary examinations show this is the case with 98% of the specimens, indicating that this is either the norm or that the failure rate is very high. A failure of that percentage would be met with… consequences from Up Above.
8.10.(01): 97% of fetal specimens have reached viability. They appear as expected, similar to the Kumiho though obviously more canine. Some of them are crying like human infants, though they have the closed eyes of canine pups. They resemble real infants very strongly… We have been strongly encouraged to continue thinking of them as subjects.
Several members of the team have been reassigned or dismissed for such acts of familiarity as naming the infant subjects or cooing at them. The hopes of the project lie in untainted observation and research. The psychology of the infants must be recorded from day one if a advisory program is to be developed for the clients. With the Kumiho, their unexpected cleverness led to behavioural problems from as early as childhood. These things must be anticipated if clients are to invest in the Fourth Subject. We on the team believe for better or worse this will be the final attempt.
No more of the subjects have experienced health problems, however, no more of them have displayed unusual behaviour, or much behaviour at all. Their eyes are open, but they show less development than the Nanabozho. The only data we have retrieved is the subject’s dietary needs: they feed much more than humans and require more protein.
several entries are missing or removed
The children subjects follow directions well. Their vocalizations are still very pre-lingual, but it is simple to make them imitate basic sounds or motions. It is also, and this is a relief for researchers who have been sleeping little, possible to sternly silence their rough play and noisy crying. The “canine psych” group seems to be responding much as expected, and better than the “control psych”.
Subjects seem to be growing in strength and ferocity. It is necessary for the caretakers to display a strong will to prevent damage to research equipment or injury to other subjects.
Subjects have been given an extra meat ration. They seem to enjoy raw or lightly cooked meat most and object to food that is not fresh. After finding that the salted rations are unusable, the Higher Ups cut our budget for exercise equipment. We have been focusing on running and stretches to make up the gaps.
We’ve noticed changes in the puppy play. As they start to pick up language, they also start to pick up hierarchies. Some of the larger, louder, or simply more strong willed subjects are gaining dominance over the others. Unlike what we expected, some of the “leaders” are in such a position not through any physical ability but through force of will. We plan to observe these hierarchies to take advantage of them.
Subjects are now speaking in complete sentences. They often argue over who eats first, is granted use of prime spots in holding areas and other such minor issues of prestige. They are very possessive and competitive. These arguments, though settled more in fights than in words, are less rough and more mature than when they were pre-lingual. But not by much.
Subjects are splitting into “packs” or “clans”. They often vie for superiority between packs but within units the ranks of members shift less frequently. It is predicted that within weeks they will all be stable. Plans are underway to usurp the leadership in order to instil a proper respect for humans in the subjects.
We have split the subjects into another trial/control group scenario. Half of the trial groups are being firmly commanded by some of the more strong-willed researchers. The others are allowed to manage themselves, being given less hands-on control from researchers. If hypothesis concerning their canine behaviour patterns remain accurate, the lupus psychology should provide far more effective workers than the earlier demi-human releases.
Control groups from Scenario Two are proving to be difficult. They seem to achieve success as a group quickly and readily. They split tasks and work as a unit with the efficiency expected from lupine derivatives. However, they require bribes of appropriate food, a very forceful manner, or other types of coercion to produce the most tractable results, otherwise they require more prodding. Trial groups seem to be more effective when issued direct orders and when set to work individually, however they seem to take orders with less personal initiative and must be told everything they need to do. They raise less of an objection to the idea of following every order, however, and seem to respect their primary managers.
Research team is considering using both psychological types in the final commercial release of Sap_04. Control group, hereby referred to as “Alpha Psych” have been earmarked for labour teams, military/defence applications, and various working-class level commercial applications as consumer discretion applies. Trial group, or “Beta Psych” has been marked for use in personal servant, cleaning service, bodyguard, police and public service, and the more licentious demi-human applications. The group remaining from Scenario 1, hereby referred to as “Gamma Psych” seem to have parent like attachments to the researchers due to the more human rearing techniques used. That group will be repurposed or re-educated as possible. Some of the responsible researchers will receive citations from Higher Up for allowing subjects to be treated in a detrimentally human manner.
Lupus has been chosen as the final name for Project Sap_04 subjects. June 1st release went off as planned, with the initial corporate market taking well to first-generation Lupus workers. Alpha Psych have been mentioned for several disobedience infractions and one disobedience termination, however, no successful recorded escapes as of this writing. The track record seems less troublesome than Ailouros (sap_02) Kumiho (sap_01) though disobedience infractions rank higher than Nanabozo(sap_03). Recommend long-term study of beta vs. alpha psych models in terms of performance vs. disobedience rates. Commercially Lupus have been projected to be well worth the financial costs of the research, having exceeded expectations in the first month since release.
Alfar Race: User receives +10% base AGI; +20% ASPD; +20 HIT; 25% DEF Pierce; 25% MDEF Pierce; No gemstone requirements for skills.
Roleplay Bonuses: The Alfar and Svartalfar physical senses are no different from that of a human.
Elves. Widely acknowledged as the most striking and beautiful race in all the known worlds, they live in peace in the ascended world of Alfheim. They are ruled by a King appointed by their twin creator gods, Freyr and Freyja.
Max Height: F 5'9" - 6'2" M 6'3" - 6'8"
Common Hair Colors: Brown, Blond, White
Common Eye Colors: Blue, Green
Life Expectancy: 450 - 500
Age of Sexual Maturity: 20-25 years
Elven Age of Reason: 50 years
(Despite reaching sexual and physical maturity by 25, Elves do not consider their children "fully mentally mature" until they reach the Age of Reason, traditionally celebrated at an Elf's 50th birthday.)
Length of One Generation: 100 years
Personality Traits: Wise, Self-Assured, Calm, Peace-keeping, but with a long memory
Home World: Alfheim
Fifteen thousand years ago, the nature-god Freyr blessed his creations with the most awesome and fearsome gift of all - what he called the Sight. Freyr's Sight allowed the Alfar to sense and commune with the elements themselves, granting them unprecedented power over nature itself. With this gift, the Alfar became the pinnacle of creation - a species so powerful that their race together could rival the power of a god.
But it would not last. A collective of the Alfar's most militant people, unsatisfied with their lot, conspired to become as powerful as the gods themselves. They learned to manipulate Freyr's gift, twining it with Alfar magicks directly in hideous new ways. The result was a breed of blood magic that allowed these militants to directly affect the life energy that flows through all organisms, turning lives themselves into tools for killing.
When they presented their findings to the King, in an attempt to sway him to their cause, the demonstration itself destroyed half the Elven Palace and killed several dozen men, women and children. Horrified at what they had done, he ordered these Fallen Alfar killed for their crimes, in the hopes that whatever sickness had infected their minds would not spread. The Fallen Alfar were too powerful, however, and quickly overwhelmed the Palace Guard. As they prepared to kill the King for his "treachery", Freyr himself appeared and separated the groups.
Freyr quickly realized that he had overestimated his creations' worthiness to receive the Sight. In sadness he removed all but a fraction of their gift, in the hopes that they could learn to control it more responsibly in time. The Fallen Alfar were banished from Alfheim for three thousand generations, sent to a lifeless plane of existence, that they might learn to value life instead of using it as a tool. They would become the Svartalfar.
Nine Nights of Freyr
No child remembers his birth. The Alfar race is no different, in that we do not know just how we came to be. What we do know is that the twin gods, Freyr and Freyja, created us, and though we have asked how, our lord has not revealed the slightest of hints. Instead asks, in return how we think it was done, or how we ourselves would do it. A great many theories were formed, some making more sense than others. But no matter how wild and fanciful the tails became, Freyr always listened to the myriad of ideas with a glad ear, encouraging us to explore the deepest depths of each of our own imaginations.
Age of Craft 1 – 90
It was not to long before Freyr began teaching us how to grow food, how to build houses, and how to write. We learned quickly under his guide, but quickly, too, did he stop guiding us. When our first crop was harvested, first fruit picked, and first village built, Freyr gathered us and asked us, how would we make this better? Our huts did not match our beauty he told us, our tools were unrefined tools used in ages past, and our letters were the blocky and simpleminded fonts of man. He implored us to build a world to match ourselves.
Our first success was language. We cast aside the letters and words of men, we invented a new script, with new laws as well. Our spoken tongue would be as beautiful as our written one. It had been a confusing and trying ordeal but our Father’s presence and words of encouragement lead to our eventual success. We had created a language solely for our race, a language that would sound more of singing than of dull speech, and Freyr loved it, learned it from us and spoke it always among us.
Next, we set to work on our houses. It was a disaster, what we had was always defined by what tools were at our disposal, so we set the task aside. We would work on more wieldy and graceful tools. We knew from our trials with our language that our father would only answer so much, so we set ourselves to understanding the tools better. As we did so, we experimented, toyed with the shapes and sizes on the tools and slowly they took a more natural design, tools that almost did our work for us, and Freyr praised us when we presented it, fascinated by them, he asked if he might present them to his sister.
Again, we set to our houses, and with our new tools, we perfected our houses, no longer were they simple huts of rough hewn wood, but smoothed and redefined. Our houses were of every shape, each to the owners liking, but all of them were beautiful. Freyr again praised us, but we were hungry for more beauty. He showed us how to paint, told us fantastical tales and hinted at a thousand other things. And so we set ourselves to creating a beautiful world fit for our father, Freyr, to stay with us in.
.
Sadly, it was time for our father to leave for Asgard. It was heavy on our hearts, but he assured us he would return again, so we knew we had to make the world more beautiful for his return. We laden him with works of our work, and he took, too, a few of our tools we had created and our stories, written in our language with him so that he might show his kin the Aesir. We were overjoyed that our work might be seen by the rest of the gods, but his pride in us had brought us more joy still.
Before his departure, Freyr had named one of us, Semalain, King to lead in his absence, and once he had left we set to more the beauty of our world to welcome him on his return. We fashioned a statue, larger than any tree, in his image so that we might still see our father’s warm smile even as he was gone from us in Asgard. We piled gold and silver trinkets, barrels of ale, brandy, and mead, as well as paintings and carvings around his statue in offering so that he might receive them on his return. We had mastered painting, carving, and singing. So we turned to ourselves again where this beauty had been first inspired from. We invented various games, from simply seeing who could run the swiftest, to who swam the most gracefully, or who could dance the most beautifully.
Our Father returned to us none to soon, and we were overjoyed in his presence. We flocked to him, asked him of his time in Asgard, of the other gods, and told him in turn of our days without him. We showed him what new arts we dabbled, new directions we took older arts, and what we had refined or recently mastered. We, in our excitement, had missed Freyja who had accompanied him this time. It was the first time he had scolded us. We saw the look in his eyes when our excitement had dragged on and firmly he told us to be more observant. Crestfallen and eager to please our father again, we presented her with all the gifts we could muster, but she had not come for marry making. From her we learned swordsmanship and how to defend ourselves. We sensed our father’s displeasure as we learned the lethal art, we knew he preferred peace to conflict, but we knew his love for all art, and we took it upon ourselves to learn as gracefully and move as beautifully as we could. When compared Freyja’s swordsmanship, ours wasn’t even third rate, but our father was pleased with the beauty we gave it. Our swords took on elegant forms, and Freyja had scolded us several times when what we had presented would not be fit for battle, but our father was still pleased with the beauty of the blades. Quickly, our swords grew both elegant and worthy of the battlefield, and our sparing became dances for our father.
A few of us now sought our mother’s approval. Those who had fallen for the art of the kill, the beautiful simplicity of the weapons she presented to us, how their weight could be the key factor in a battle, whether through the force of it pounding on another’s sword or shield arm, or how it could be light enough to swing faster than the foe’s slow and heavy movements. The Alfar who sought our mother’s approval now yearned to learn of war tactics, how to use one’s environment to turn the tides of a battle, how to siege a castle built for total defense, how the arrow sailed through the air before planting itself in it’s target. These were the first of our warriors. Freyja’s children they we had called them.
And so our life went, with Freyr coming and going between Alfheim and Asgard, Freyja with him but occasionally. Several Alfar now sought her out instead of our Father on his arrival and quickly flocked to her, eager to learn the ways of war and battle, of strategies and weapon crafting. Soon, the Alfar Chivalry had been formed, a group of Alfar following Freyja, ever seeking to perfect their form, to master every weapon they could get their hands on, and sticking to the strict code of honor she had taught them. To them, everything was a possible weapon, they could find anything and put it to use, a trait that attracted even more Alfar to the chivalry. It wasn’t long before the Chivalry became a part of our society, from building a near impenetrable palace for our king, to holding contests of honor and courage in our mother’s honor. A statue of our mother, just as tall and detailed as our father’s, had been erected on the Chivalry grounds, jewels, cakes, breads, and hand-made gifts of all sorts piled at its base.
While the Alfar who followed Freyja’s ways of war and chivalry, the rest of us expanded our skill with magic, adding it to our many pieces of art. It had been around such a time that we found another way to dabble with magic that Freyr came before us, gathered all the Alfar together, and presented us a gift no other god would gladly give another race, nor would they every again. He had blessed us with a sixth sense, a sense to see and feel the life around us, the power to understand how it works, why it works, and how to change it. We called it the Sight, for we now saw through new eyes. We could change it all with a nudge, or a shove, pushing it in whatever way we wanted or needed, shaping the world to our desires. Immediately we took to perfect our new found power, to produce a whole new art for our father. To the Chivalry, our father warned never to misuse the gift. But our mother, who had come with him, had other ideas. Freyr taught us how to handle the sight, how to get what we desired with as little effort as possible. Freyja taught the Chivalry how to wield it in a fight, how to heal the most severe wounds, and how to command elements against our foes. Freyr watched all of us closely in our use of magic, for many years until he followed Freyja back to Asgard.
Our world, along with ourselves, had become all the more beautiful thanks to the gift of our new sight. But for all the love of our gift and our parents, even we have a stain on our history. Those Alfar who followed Freyja in the ways of the Chivalry had become twisted, seeking power instead of beauty. They turned our magic into a force for killing. It took life, mutilated it, warping it into a weapon to kill, just as they took Freyr’s gift and warped it beyond recognition. Word reached King Semalain, our appointed leader in Freyr’s absence. Appalled, and frightened, he and the rest of Freyr’s followers demanded the discontinued use of such horrendous magic, reminding them of Freyr’s warning not to misuse the gift. But Semalain’s words fell on deaf ears, for the corrupted Alfar grew furious, argued their works were the teachings of Freyja, that Freyr was a coward who feared battle. Angry that their twisted monstrosity had been called horrendous, though, of course, it was, they worked their abomination against their own kin. Any who dared to stand against the Chivalry were quickly dealt with. This, we realized, was what Freyja had taught us swordplay for, so we took up our blades and fought back against our brothers. But they used their cruel magic in combination to their fierce attacks. We grasped at straws as we used what we did know in combat, we pulled the roots of old trees to ensnare our foes, lit trees afire and sent them down on the band of corrupted, but they were to powerful to be fought with such, and their numbers grew. We were forced to adapt our magic into a weapon; we hurled fire balls, raised spikes of stone from beneath their feat, plunged swords into their chests, and rained arrows on their heads. We were locked in a stalemate, unable to gain the upper hand and thwart the corrupted Alfar but refusing them the upper hand as well.
One can only imagine what Freyr thought as he returned to such a chaos. We could hear his cry as he returned to Alfheim only to see his children slaughtering one another. With all haste, fury and anguish flaring behind his eyes, our father drove his chariot between our two forces and ordered a full halt. The pain behind his voice stabbed at our own hearts, and the fury frightened us as much as it had the corrupted Alfar. In his rage, Freyr took from us the gift of Sight, and not just us, but every Alfar. He demanded to know why we had begun to war against our own brothers, and listened to both sides. When the corrupted Alfar refused any crime of their own, Freyr’s wrath grew more frightening and he banished them from Alfheim, sentencing them to lightless Svart-Alfheim, a barren cavern world without sun nor rain nor grass until they learned the true value of life they so willingly, so readily turned into a weapon out of power-lust.
From there-after Freyr watched us silently, as we moved about our lives. We feared he would banish us, too, and the loss of our sight pained us, but worse still was his anger, hanging heavily in the air and weighing down on our hearts. We attempted to appease him with offerings and various arts, begging him his forgiveness, but nothing would soften his harsh gaze or lighten his eyes. But we did not give up, we knew there was a way to make right what had happened, and we yearned to see our father smile once more, so we gathered together and tried everything we could imagine, but it was all in vain. Desperate for our father’s forgiveness, we decided to try and fix what our brethren had destroyed. We knew it impossible to undo the wrongs the committed, but we could fix what damages were caused.
Restoring our world was a daunting task, to be sure, and with each use of magic our hearts ached. But still we set to work, coercing the grass to grow, healing trees that were broken or torn, and rebuilt our houses. But it was a slow process as we hesitated before using our magic. But as our world was healing, so to was our wound. Our sight did not return, but we did learn to see with what we still had, and to compensate ourselves for what our Sight could no longer give us. As we progressed, we could see our god’s anger appease just a little, but still he remained cautious, keeping his eyes on us for ages to come.
Freyr, whose anger had eased over time, had recognized our toils to rebuild what had been damaged, to right the wrongs and our desire to be forgiven, though he still did not trust us yet. He would not leave us to ourselves in fear we would stray again and become power hungry warriors or some other unimaginable monster, but alas we knew we may need to defend ourselves eventually. So we took up the blade again, mastered our archery, and designed spells for defense, and trained to protect ourselves once more. This time, however, our Chivalry followed a new code. We would not fight unless we had to in order to protect ourselves or our kin. No knight may learn magic beyond what we deemed fit, and no mage was to be taught the arts of swordplay, nor would anyone learn magic more than the basics of magic before the age of fifty. This would hopefully keep a balance without giving anyone the power our banished brethrens had that tempted them to more power. When Freyr was satisfied we were avoiding their path, he returned to Asgard for he had already stayed to long. But our peace did not last.
Not long after Freyr departed once more for Asgard, we were assaulted by black-skinned Alfar, their sudden appearance and the ferocity of their attack struck us a heavy blow and it frightened us. Immediately we put what we had relearned of our warrior arts and tried to fend them off, but our grievous error of judgment cost us. We had focused on keeping threats out of our homes, but these shadow imitations of our own kin had sprung from inside our cities as if out of the darkness itself. They raided our villages and they destroyed our homes, slaughtered our people and with the first morning light, they had left. We were shaken, we had no idea as to where they had gone and set forth to figure out where they had come from and what they were. But our searches were in vain as they returned each night, springing behind defenses and wrecking havoc as we struggled to cope.
But we are not a stupid people. Quickly we fixed our errors, we prepared quick defenses to deal with the threat while we figured out what they were, and how to better handle them. But it was not enough, they had all the skill of our banished brethren, and indeed we had gleamed their name from a boastful assailant. Svartalfar they had called themselves, and it was certain that they were the banished ones. Realizing that we were unable to hold them off inside our walls, we searched for how they got in, but for several months nothing showed up as town after town was raided. Eventually we found their door way. They were entering from outside Alfheim. Quickly we studied the portal we had discovered and sent our warriors into the outside world. When they returned, we learned more of Midgard, and quickly dispatched more of our warriors to guard the portals, even studying how to create our own for escape purposes. When the Svartalfar were seen approaching, our scouts would return with warnings and we would be ready for them, no longer would they catch us so unawares again. But their prows in combat made them a hard foe to hold off, let alone defeat. But still we tried; we even took to attacking Svartalfheim, though we were severely outmatched in terms of strength. But we knew Freyr could not help us, or else he would have, and so we had to try.
When things truly began to bode ill for us, we turned to the resident races, seeking their aid. The human mercenaries aided us, but not without cost. We beseeched their kings, and a few knights had dispatched to aid us. With the aid of the humans, we began to at least hold them off to varying extents, but only that. We were going mad trying to find a way to counter the Svartalfar, and the more fearful knights and mercenaries quickly left when they realized the struggle was not in our favor. Worse still, we knew Ragnarok approached and still the Svartalfar came at us. But at last, we were given our respite when the Svartalfar finally left us to ourselves. We sealed off the portals in hopes the Svartalfar were smart enough to do so as well, thank Freyr they were! Or at least, they didn’t pry portals into our world open again. Holed up in Alfheim, we prayed for our father and mother’s safety in the war, piling up offering for their return. We continued training for combat in Freyja’s honor, and kept our farms and fruit trees healthy for Freyr in hopes that they might return at Ragnarok’s end.
A Thousand or so years had passed and our world had grown a great deal during these years. Rather than keeping small gardens, we took to letting the world around us grow as one large garden. During the thousand years, the trees grew strong and tall, and the plants plentiful. We no longer used magic to push things to our liking, but rather we communed with it, asking for its assistance and always giving back as much as we took. We helped the forest grow, and it provided us with what we needed. Our buildings, hidden by a maze of trees, were made of transparent materials that reflected the sun like diamonds. However, most of our housing was given to us by the forest, whose tree branches inter twined and held strong so that we might travel the forest high above the ground. When the Svartalfar did at last return, we had already learned to move with out disturbing the forest, and we watched them. We would move to defend the forest, but otherwise ignored them. We still despised their kind, and our knights, followers of Freyja who remained in the old Chivalry, had taken sport in harassing the Svartalfar. Our blades now danced with a natural grace they had lost, and our archers were far swifter than theirs, but for the most part, we ignored them so long as they did not endanger the forest. We knew they would grow board of the maze of trees they had returned to find, and very few of us could not blend with the forest’s natural movements, hidden by nature.
When we realized that Freyr had yet to show himself in Alfheim, we followed the Svartalfar through the portals they had opened, entering the land of Midgardr, hoping for news or a sign of Freyr or Freyja, but it was not so. The humans, however sparked our curiosity, their practices of magic was still new in comparison, as were many things in their societies, but there was potential. Some of us stayed because of the humans, others were curious about the world itself and how it differed from ours, and others sought personal agendas.
Svartalf Race: User receives +10% base STR; +25% ATK; +25% MATK.
Roleplay Bonuses: The Alfar and Svartalfar physical senses are no different from that of a human.
Max Height: F 5'9" - 6'2" M 6'3 - 6'8"
Common Hair Colors: White, gold, copper, or occasionally shades of brown
Common Eye Colors: Red, gold, green, blue, black, rose, grey, rarely brown (usually when hair is already brown).
Life Expectancy: 450 - 500
Age of Sexual Maturity: 20-25 years
Elven Age of Reason: 50 years
Length of One Generation: 100 years
Personality Traits: Proud, Warlike, Vengeful, Cocky
Home World: Svartalfheim
It has been fourteen thousand, seven hundred and thirty-two years since we were banished from the homes of our forefathers by the Deceiver, Freyr. One hundred and forty-seven generations into his three thousand generation exile, after which he will check on us to see if we have repented for our "crime." Pah!
But even now I see our society compacting, the weak of heart and feeble of conviction already picking away at our proud foundations, begging us to seek forgiveness with the Deceiver. They miss the warmth of the Sun, the softness of Alfheim grass, the crispness of its vegetables and the firmness of its meats. They crave the pampered life we had as Freyr's Pets. Even now they turn our weaker members against us, whispering saccharine tales of temptation into the ears of our children, whining and keening at Councilmeet, seducing those who falter away from the path of Glory.
It is sad that it has come to this, but I have decided to begin the daunting task of collecting our history - just in case Freyr's sycophants succeed in destroying all that we stand for. Even should they fail (and I hope such is their fate), a collected history will be useful for teaching our children what we are and how we came to be.
This is the history of Svartalfa.
Quelinost Sa'Athiel, Historian
As recently as fifteen thousand years prior to this writing, "Svartalfar" and "Alfar" were distinctions no one thought to make. We were one race, one proud people. Times were simpler then.
We were the creations of a sibling-pair of gods, Freyr and Freyja, the architects of nature. As creations of the gods of biology, we were the pinnacle of biological evolution - strong, healthy, quick, immune to the ravages of time and disease - unlike our weakling cousins the humans. (Perhaps this is why the gods try to wipe out the humans every Ragnarök? It is a question worth asking if we ever get the chance. But I digress.)
Two world-cycles ago, just before the Ragnarök, Freyr came to the decision that we, his creations, had finally earned access to his greatest power - the force with which the gods created the world and maintained its form and function. He imbued us with it, body and soul, our very beings now resonating in tune with all the things the Frey Siblings had crafted. He left us with very few strictures on its use, leaving it mostly "up to our own common sense".
Soon enough we learned what power we had gained through Frey's Gift. Our agriculturists were able to amplify food production several hundredfold simply by communing with the plants they grew and the animals they hunted. Our scientists gained fantastic insight into the clockwork mechanisms of the planet, and our knowledge of physics advanced by leaps and bounds. Communications flourished as we learned to forge mental connections between sapients, allowing for instantaneous communication between anyone in Alfheim, Midgar, or any other world. We as a species began to rival the gods in our splendor.
It was not long before War, that one sector of society I have not mentioned yet, began to turn this Freyrforce to its own ends as well. At first it was simple - our new communion with living things showed us what soft spots to breach, what muscles were tensing to attack, when the enemy's mind turned to fear and how best to exploit it. Our arcanists took this further, twining control of the elements with new knowledge of their workings to enhance spells far beyond what mortals should be capable of. But our greatest advance came when we learned to directly manipulate what Freyr had taught us to sense - life force itself. Turning blood to ice, ending lives with a thought, using living bodies as unwitting spirit-bombs - we took the act of killing to an art form. Truly, this was the pinnacle of the Warrior Caste.
As we learned, we began to question - as all good men should do. We questioned why Freyr had waited so long to give us this gift. Why Freyr had kept this tool from us, his personal creations, for so long. And as we questioned, we began to resent - not greatly, just a little, for he had still given it to us. We just wished he had done so sooner. Imagine what we could have done with this power in the hundreds of thousands of years prior.
Eventually there came a time when we were to present our findings to the King. With relish we demonstrated our newfound power, revelling in the terror on the courtiers' faces as we bent earth and sky and blood and life to our whim. Relish, that is, until the King ordered us to stop. His craven pig face blanched and sweating, he squealed that we had defied the strictures of Freyr and defiled his gift with our actions, and ordered us all destroyed. We were betrayed.
But it was a one-sided battle when he ordered his guards on us. We dispatched his untrained minions with an almost gleeful ease. We would have killed that pig King as well had Freyr not come to stop us himself.
As Freyr separated us with barriers of power, he addressed us with the tone of a chiding parent. He had been watching us, he said. This was a test for us. One we had soundly failed. He had never intended that this gift be turned to the art of war. Our leader, Illithiel, stepped forward to question him.
"If you had never intended it be used in battle," she questioned, "then why give it to a people whose blood runs hot with war?"
"Because," a sighing Freyr replied, "I had hoped it would teach you the value of life. All life. I hoped that seeing the lives you end would make you sick of killing."
"Quite the contrary, Lord Freyr. We have learned the value of life." A wicked grin spread across Illithiel's face as she continued. "But we have also learned its worth as a weapon. And we, at least," she gestured about her to her followers, "…are not afraid to use it as it should be."
"It should not be used at all!" Freyr roared, in uncharacteristic anger. "Life is not a weapon! Life is to be savoured, treasured, cared for - not used as a tool of destruction!"
"If we're not supposed to use it," Illithiel countered quietly, "then why make it available at all?"
Freyr had no answer to that. Instead he gathered all elves together and spoke to everyone at once.
"You have disappointed me, children," he began. "You have abused my gift. You have proven to me you are not yet ready to receive it. For this…" he stretched out his hand, and every elf gasped in pain as our hearts grew heavier. "…I am taking it back."
"I will not take back all of it," he continued. "I want you to learn from your mistake. Where before you were attuned to Life's Force, now I leave you with only a sense - a vague sense, but a sense nonetheless. Prove to me you are capable of using this properly, and I will consider giving back more."
"As for you…" he rounded on the warriors next. "You have failed me most of all. You have deliberately ignored the lesson I have tried to teach you. You have forsaken the value of the life all around you… so as your lesson, I shall be removing you from it." In a flash our surroundings changed - the verdant green fields became desolate rocks as we appeared in a massive underground cave structure. The walls went up eternally, but there was no sky - only blackness overhead where the cave rose out of our sight.
"Here life will be difficult - you will have to fight to survive, separate from the flourishing life you took for granted." As he turned to leave, he left us with these parting words. "…as I recall, you prefer a fight, don't you?"
He was right. A fight is what we prefer.
Our first and most important concerns were securing shelter and determining what resources were still available to us. While some of our team turned to cleaving shelter from the rock, our arcanists turned inwards and analyzed what of Frey's Gift was left to us.
A cursory investigation and a few quick experiments yielded an important revelation. Physics had not changed. We may have lost our ability to read the hearts and minds of others, but we had not lost our knowledge of how the elements blended together. We would not have to start completely over. We just had to regain our sight.
The Black Tower of Arcanum was the third structure erected in our new home, after the command center and an initial bunker for housing. Illithiel recognized the strategic importance of regaining the sight we once had, and exempted the Arcanist Caste from all but the most important duties in order that they could concentrate solely on healing our "blindness" to the forces of life. For twenty years they labored.
It was on the twenty-first year of our exile that the first Dark Elf emerged from the tower. Every elf grew silent at their new appearance, blanching at the sight of them. But Illithiel smiled, for she knew that a solution had been found. This was the invention of the Darkening.
The Darkening is a simple idea. There are specific cells in our bodies that are naturally in tune with the forces of life and magic - we call them melanocytes, because they also carry large amounts of melanin inside them. What the Arcanist Caste did was imbue themselves with permanent enchantments that altered their cellular structure, causing more of their cells to become these melanocytes - and thus increasing our sensitivity to life energy.
It was not a perfect solution. Even Darkened Elves cannot "see" farther than a few feet, and only get finely-detailed information through touch. In addition, Darkening was a painful process, and the weeks after are an overwhelming torrent of information to the inexperienced. But it was an improvement over what Freyr had left us with, and so we kept it.
A tradition was made, one you are probably intimately familiar with if you are reading this as a history of your own people. Every Elf present submitted to the Darkening, desperate to regain what little sight they could. For the children, though, Illithiel wanted to be safe. Each child born only had their ears Darkened at birth, more ceremonially than functionally - it would "open their ears to the Voice of Magic". If they believed in the core tenets of our people, they would be offered the Darkening process for the rest of their bodies at the Age of Reason, their fiftieth birthday, by their family's Arcanist Casteman. This, Illithiel hoped, would make it possible to visually distinguish dissidents from the rest - you must admit a snowy elf with night-black ears would stand out in a crowd.
Freshly-Darkened, our forces began building a permanent residence, determined to make the most of this new life Freyr had forced us into. And thus Svartalfheim was built.
Our culture adapted quickly to our new surroundings. Permanent portals to Midgard were cracked open by the Arcanist Caste, and maintained by the Oversight Caste's Travel Division. Thankfully, Freyr had made a tactical blunder leaving us in these specific caves - the ground was very tightly packed with gemstones, and humans will do anything for sparklies. We were able to secure trade routes with Arunafeltz and Rune with promises of more sparklies, and trade convoys began supplying us with better food than the mushrooms and cave-bats that were our normal fare.
As quality of life improved, so did morale for our people - it had only been fifty years since the banishment, after all. Memories of Freyr's betrayal were still fresh on our minds. But seeing that we could not only survive but thrive, even under the ire of our creator-deity, inspired new hope in our people and fresh belief in our convictions.
The Arcanist Caste used this new hope to push for a grand new project, one which they assured us would usher in self-sufficiency without requiring a diet of bats and dirt. Every magic-capable Darkened Elf was brought to the Black Tower and guided into concentric casting rings around it. They all joined hands and lent their strength to the Nine Archmagi of the tower, who then proceeded to do the impossible.
They created a miniature, self-sustained sun.
The "sky" overhead burst into brilliant light as the massive ball of fire rose up and up into the infinite heights of the cave, and as it rose so did cheers of pride. Agriculture was possible again. We had made ourselves self-sustaining.
With the twin boosts to morale of sun and trade, our society began booming. The castes became formally organized as human labor was contracted in to increase our construction rates. (Humans will do anything for sparklies. Idiots.) The Houses began to re-form as population boomed. Over the course of a thousand years we went from a small military settlement to a prosperous Class V citadel.
The portals to Midgard were moved to a defensible position outside the city, which was renamed Svartalfholdt. Small farming villages sprang up near the walls of Svartalfholdt, to support the farming areas inside the city - while we could survive a siege for decades, we wanted to expand our defensible territory into this cave-land, and a support structure of food-providing villages would be essential for this. The underground streams were dammed and redirected for water-based communications, and aqueducts were created to maximize water supply to the farming areas. As time went on, the Arcanist Caste even developed methods of making rain over specific areas.
We were powerful. We were prospering. And we were doing it all on our own.
We commemorated YOB 1500 (Year of Our Banishment) by planting the first forest in Svartalfheim, using seeds we had collected on excursions into Alfheim. As reports came streaming in that Ragnarök had started in Midgard, we sealed the portal to Midgard for the first time ever, confident that we could survive without the humans for the duration of the war. We were right.
We allowed a few lucky humans to stay in Svartalfheim with us, though not in anything remotely approaching positions of power. They established a farming and mining settlement around the deactivated portal to some human settlement called Izlude, a tributary to the Rune capital city. When the war was over and we reopened the portal to Rune, they remained as a sort of intermediary buffer-state for us. We didn't mind - all the portals were set up in small valleys dug into the ground, so they were fantastically hard for incoming forces to defend. This was to ensure no invading force could ever set up a military outpost here in Svartalfheim. It's worked out well for us so far.
Our second citadel to reach Class V was named Illithia in memory of our dearly departed leader. Founded in YOB 1000, five hundred years after Illithiel's death, it didn't reach Class V status until YOB 2011. Our third and fourth Class V citadels reached that rank two hundred years later - practically overnight. And our infrastructure of Class IV and Class III steadholdts was doubling every few hundred years.
This was when we began the raids into Alfheim.
At first they were just cultural raids, attacks to reclaim heirlooms and family artifacts that had been left behind when Freyr sent our ancestors here. After the first few raids, when the Alfar began mounting proper defenses, the raids became almost for fun - we are after all a people of war, and one can only do so many hundreds of combat simulations before one starts mounting guerilla assaults on the bats to keep sane. Soon the Alfar had enough spine to try launching counterassaults - which we crushed, obviously, but it gave our Warrior Caste some hands-on training defending a fortification.
The sport-war with the Alfheim lasted six thousand years, until we had to close our portals for Ragnarök. We tried to pick up the fight again afterwards, but the Alfar's hearts just weren't in it, and it showed. It was almost pitiful. Our soldiers gave up trying to incite them into fights, and came whining back to the Oversight Caste for something new to kill.
Deals were struck with some of the human leadership to rent out some of our Warrior Caste platoons as mercenary corps. They didn't care about the coins the humans gave them (although they did end up using them to buy metals, supplies and nights with human women); they were there for the fighting. And fight they did. Our people became known throughout human lands as they properly should - the finest warriors, the best of the best.
YOB 9127 was an important year for us. It was the first year since our banishment that the goddess Freyja appeared before the Council at Councilmeet and spoke to us openly.
Apparently the lady Freyja had been watching us. Disguised as an old woman, she had kept tabs on us for nine thousand years, watching our progress. And Freyja was pleased with what she saw.
Freyja liked us, it seems. She had always recognized the inherent violence in nature, and had wished to see more of it reflected in their "pinnacle creations" the elves. She had watched our warrior culture grow and flourish, free of the influence of her pacifist brother Freyr, and she liked most of what she saw. She did, however, see room for our improvement.
Freyja would become a part of svartalf society, spending time in Svartalfholdt like Freyr did in Alfholdt. Where Freyr would lecture on life and philosophy, Freyja would teach the arts of war - strategy, hand to hand combat, the merits of one strategy over another. She welcomed us, young and old, to debate her on the finer points of battle - the merits vs the demerits of honor in battle, the strengths of siege against the strengths of infiltration, even counterstrategies against magic or melee. She would create mock battles, animations using illusions of troops on a battlefield, challenging those around her to maneuver the armies to a tactical advantage and praising those who found victory.
Under Freyja's watchful eye, we tempered ourselves into the most fearsome military force of all nine worlds. …or at least, I like to think we are.
To be continued.
In progress
The MF-06 are a very secretive race, limited in number. They live the majority of their lives in disguise as members of other races. If you are interested in playing an MF-06, you should contact GM Moshi directly.
Max Height: Varies
Common Hair Colors: Unknown
Common Eye Colors: Unknown
Life Expectancy: Classified
Age of Sexual Maturity: Classified
Length of One Generation: Fertility Unknown
Home World: Midgard
A mysterious created-race about which very little is known. They are known only by their project designation, Project MF-06; the story behind this designation is a secret only the heads of the Schwartzvald Military know. Project MF-06 was aborted suddenly when a catastrophic lab explosion enabled all one hundred specimens to escape. Since then very few have been recaptured - they are visibly identical to humans, and have simply opted to disappear into the crowds, pretending to be human. Those few who have been discovered and recaptured have quietly disappeared from the public record, never to be seen again.
What little original research survived the flames is jealously guarded by the Schwartzvald Republic, who offer fabulous rewards to anyone able to capture an MF-06 specimen. Below is a flyer released to Special Ops members of the Schwartzvald Military.
Project MF-06
Congratulations! If you're reading this, you are one of the chosen few entrusted with classified knowledge of Project MF-06. The following packet will assist you in identifying and recovering escaped specimens.
Section 1: Identifying a Specimen
Escaped test subjects are identical to humans superficially, so spotting them can be extremely difficult. Here are a few useful facts you can use to confirm a prospective capture is, in fact, what you've been looking for.
• MF-06 heal far faster than normal humans. In addition, deep-tissue wounds will bleed a black ichor, instead of the dark reddish-purple blood of a human. This ichor is an agent of the subject's immune system - do not touch, it will cause damage similar to an acid burn.
• MF-06 register pain on a lower level than most humanoids, and often will ignore or simply not register lesser injuries.
• MF-06 can hear sounds on a much broader band than humans and even Alfar can. Use ultrasonic frequencies to identify them in a crowd, but be wary of injuring nearby slaves - Furred races can hear these frequencies too!
Section 2: Capturing a Specimen
Remember that specimens from Project MF-06 were raised to be elite soldiers. Enter every potential capture situation with all possible routes of escape covered and all variables accounted for!
• Many MF-06 are spellcasters or have an innate gift with magic. Bring antimagic units!
• Remember the MF-06 inhuman tolerance for pain and their natural resilience to damage. Do not ever expect an easy fight!
• MF-06 are crafty and quick on their feet. Do not rely on outnumbering them - have a good plan!
• Divide and conquer! Two MF-06 working together are infinitely more dangerous than two separate units!
• Never expect a plan to go perfectly, have backup plans in place!
• Remember that the battlespace is three dimensional! Cover sewers and rooftops as well as the street, or treetops if the setting is non-urban!
• Do not call attention to yourselves - it is always safest to assume your target is paranoid and will be looking for you, because they probably are.
Remember to keep civilian knowledge as low as possible! You can always attempt to reacquire the target later, but knowledge disseminated into the public means more people trying to recover the MF-06 subjects to steal the knowledge for themselves!
Good luck!