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About Keozon

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    Texas, USA
  • Interests
    Software Development, Reading, Writing, Strategy and Role Playing Games (Board, Table Top and Video), Playing with my daughter, Kayaking, Traveling
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    Software Developer

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  1. It took me a bit longer than I expected (nearly everything does), but I finally finished Ktoto's backstory (decided not to change his name, for reasons in the backstory). It needs a bit of cleanup for flow and typos I'm sure, but its a good start, and is complete albeit a bit unpolished. If anyone would be particularly interested in roleplaying with him, let me know. At this point, he is basically just some guy. No particularly useful abilities or special powers. He's not trained in combat, but is desperate and somewhat suicidal. I'm thinking a few different potential scenarios: He could just join the war as a regular soldier, but he might require some training (although he doesn't care if he's untrained). He would also be particularly interested in finding out who was responsible for the eruption of Mount Egon, as that might be an excuse for him to pass the blame for some of his shame. Someone who might want to help him find what he is good at, and if he has any powers (he probably does, but I have no particular plans at this junction).
  2. I plan on finishing up my character sheet and background today or tomorrow, and then I'll be looking for a UM RP to join, probably war related.

    1. Velindrel


      You got this mate just read up the tutorials on the site and play something you will have tons of fun with!

      OH AND...welcome to Valucre looking forward to seeing what youre capable of doing.

    2. vielle


      Exciting! Hope to see you around UM soonest! 💖

  3. Thanks, @vielle. It really looks like Ursa Madeum will be a good fit for what has been percolating around the back of my brain for the last week or so. I don’t think I’m quite ready to join any active quests quite yet. I’ll probably need another week or so to iron out the copious wrinkles in Ktoto’s backstory (one, being his name 😂) and how I want him to interact with others (just slightly important for role play), and where I want him to go. That being said, I don’t want to wait too long because the war sounds like it has some good opportunities for him.
  4. Great and well versed back story for Ktoto! Also it was great seeing Qrill get referenced too, I didn’t think any new members would come across its lore 

    1. Keozon


      Thanks. Overall I need to check on timing. Not sure when the eruption happened in relation to "now" and whether it was just tectonic activity, or magic, or both, and whether the lava elementals started attacking immediately... but its a starting place.

    2. Csl


      Ursa Madeum time runs 1:1 to IRL time, so the eruption happened around May last year. You can check the Ursa Madeum timeline here ^_^

      The volcano thread in question is this one, if you want to reference it.

      And yes! Ktoto seems like an interesting dude and I'm looking forward to see him around in UM

  5. Essentials Name: [Abandoned] Moniker: Ktoto Neizvestni [Unii: Кто-то Неизвестный, translation: Someone Unknown] Race: Human Age: 29 Occupation: Clockmaker (Former), Vagrant (Current) Disposition: Self-deprecating, reckless, curious, weary, and occasionally noble Birthplace: Taigh an Uillt [Village] (now abandoned) in between Caigh Ayrd and Qrill in Misral, Ursa Madeum Languages Spoken: Terric, Unii Physical Description Gender: Male Height: 5'11" Weight: 78 kg Reasonably fit and muscled, from using large tools and clock components, and occasional forge work. Currently slightly emaciated, disheveled. Dark hair somewhere between brown and black, with flecks of early gray. Eyes are tired and sunken, with little joy remaining. Occasionally, when his curiosity is aroused, they will show an inkling of their former inner light. Backstory Ktoto was born, under a different name, in the year 569 WTA to a family of clockmakers, in a relatively small town named Taigh an Uillt. Taigh an Uillt, which grew from a small, single settlement aside a small, spring-fed brook into a middling town of several thousand people at its most populous point, was positioned between what is now Caigh Ayrd in the North, and Qrill to the South, on the island of Misral. Taigh an Uillt had few resources and little of value, except being between the formally agriculturally and geologically rich lands to the north, and the industrious Qrill. Its position provided residents with a unique opportunity to provide lodging, supplies or alternatives to products normally only available further away. As a result, its size and wealth was almost directly a function of economic and political growth, or depression. Of note, like many surrounding regions in Misral, there was substantial seismic activity in the area, and within easy walking distance were several small hot springs, some of which fed the brook passing through the center of town. Ktoto's father, Ealar was a second generation clockmaker. Ealar's father had taken residence in the then-growing town because his skill was not quite high enough to make an acceptable living in the competitive market of Qrill, but he could there take advantage of customers would needed repairs or even a new clock and didn't wish to make the entire journey to Qrill. His prices were slightly lower, but he found many customers. Ealar was not significantly worse nor better a craftsman than his father, but his wife and Ktoto's mother, Anna, an Inn-keep's daughter who had experience managing her fathers clients and suppliers, was a rather shrewd business woman, and together the house waxed successful. They built up their single dwelling home into a small villa, with a low wall, an attractive if not overly ostentatious garden, a carriage house, a summer kitchen and the family residence. The also built a small, two room residence for visiting customers who needed to spend the night (her father was rather mad about the loss of potential customers). Ktoto, unlike his father, showed far more promise from a very young age, at becoming a master craftsman. He grew up watching his father make and repair clocks, and at the age of ten, he had built his first clock entirely by himself, using accumulated spare parts from other broken parts. He devoured his mother's small library, and his father's texts on the craft, and soon started spending his allowance on more books from merchants passing through town. He picked up metallurgy and found ways to make superior metals using cheaper materials. He learned Unii, the international language of commerce, so he could be sure to speak with any interested customers. At the age of fifteen, he had all but taken over his father's craft, although his mother still led the business side. A year later, Ealar got ill and most of his vitality left him. He gave up more and more of the day to day crafting to his son. As the reputation and custom of their family grew, the health of his father waned, and shortly into Ktoto's 17th year, his father passed away at the young age of only 47. Within two years of completely taking over after his father's passing, very few travelers indeed moved on past Taigh an Uillt, if they were looking for a clockmaker. Some customers even came from Qrill, looking for lower prices. Many said that Ktoto might have become the best at his craft on the island. Others disagreed, but most admitted he was one of the best, even at such a young age. Some asked him why he didn't move his business to Qrill, where he could certainly become even more successful. He answered that his life was there, and his mother's family was there, and he saw no reason to leave. One day, while Ktoto was away from home to fix a clock his grandfather had built in a remote farming village, he met his future wife, who was working as a barmaid in town, but who lived several miles away at her family's farm when she wasn't boarded at the bar's inn. She, of course, knew who he was as she had seen him working in the square. "Me and the girls, we've been wondering who is paying for these repairs? The sheriff can't possibly have enough; she spends every [find the equivalent of cent in this world/continent] as soon as she acquires it!" Ceana mumbled something further under her breath about taxes. "Ah. Well, my grandfather built the clock, and any well made clock should last for generations. I see no sign that this one has been abused, so I'm doing it for free. Wouldn't be right to charge." Ktoto absently returned to his book ("Regulating the Viscosity of Molten Metal For Consistent Casts"). "Really? You came all this way to fix a clock that you didn't make, for free? Such a man must have a long line of suitors waiting to court him." Ceana smiled coyly and gave Ktoto a penetrating glance. Ktoto was not terribly used to such attention and in fact rarely gave much considering to such events. He felt himself flush. "Not really. I'm usually too busy or have my nose stuck in a book. That drives most suitors away." He contemplated his nose right back into that book, but decided against it. He'd already read it, anyway. "Well, that's the cost of success, I'd bet. Everyone here says you're the best clockmaker in the world." She raised her hand to stifle his objection. "I don't know nothin' about that, as I've barely left this town, but I'm pretty sure you're a better man than anyone here and I've only known you five minutes." Ktoto was flustered. "Well. Erm. Uh. I doubt that..." She winked. "Now, can I get you another drink? If you're going to be repairing our clock, we can't have you goin' thirsty." And she got him another drink. They kept talking through the evening, in small increments, as she brought him more and more drinks. Ktoto was charmed, and found himself finding excuses to return to that remote village over the next year, until his mother started to get suspicious. She demanded to be introduced to the woman that had her son so enchanted. So, Ceana, after a long carriage ride, spent the first of many weekends in one of the small boarding houses inside the villa walls. Anna would not hear of letting her stay in the family’s residence itself, even if there was plenty of space. It just wasn’t proper, she insisted. But Ktoto began to suspect that his mother just didn’t approve of Ceana. One day he decided to confront her about it. ”You’re quite right. She’s just not good enough for you.” Ktoto opened his mouth to say something predictable. ”I’m not saying she’d make a bad wife — she’s quite lovely, kind and clearly makes you laugh. You’ll probably get along fine. But she’d make a terrible business partner. You have no mind for business. You can’t do this on your own.” Ktoto chewed on his words for several embarrassing seconds. “She’ll do fine, Mother. Anything you feel she lacks, you can teach her, if you’re that concerned.” Anna was initially unconvinced. Furthermore, she had reservations that, though she didn't doubt that Ceana had genuine affection for her son, that she was more interested in an excuse to leave her old life than she was in Ktoto. However, with time she came to understand that Ktoto was not overly concerned about the success of the business, and that Ceana, despite her perceived faults, made him happy, she finally gave Ktoto her nod of approval. On the day they got married [593WTA, Age: 24], a small spring in the family garden, which had been dry for at least a generation, started flowing. Some people in the village started whispering of magics. Ktoto -- to the chagrin of the family's gardener -- decided he would build a water clock, in honor of their marriage, love and family. He swore it would be the best clock he ever would build. Over the years, the world changed. The disappearance of Queen Analea initially had little impact on the lives of individual craftsmen in Misral. Trade got a little worse, life became more uncertain, but Ktoto's reputation for both honesty and excellence grew, and his family grew with it. Then the Tyrant King's influence spread to reach even remote Taigh an Uillt. Higher taxes, unfair tarifs and other abuses ravaged the small town. Ktoto opened his family's modest coffers and paid all of them, to hold off further conflict, in some instances paying the debt of the whole village. The wealth of the family waned, even as the fame grew. For hundreds of miles, everyone had heard at least some tale of the lone clockmaker who refused to abandon his impoverished village. Anna, unable to convince her son that he could not, in fact, save the whole village, and with her own father unable to care for his inn, decided to move back in with her parents, and take over as their administrator, leaving Ceana in charge of the family's business and finances. Ceana grew in her own right; while she never quite reached the level of proficiency of Anna, she had more success convincing Ktoto to better act in the interests of the family, before the village at large. She grew more and more insistent that they should leave outright, move to Qrill, where he could open up shop and reach new levels of success and influence. Ktoto dismissed it, saying they had everything they needed, right where they were. Through it all, Ktoto continued to construct his water clock. True to his promise, it was the best clock he would ever make. He designed several custom apparatuses to regulate flow, even as the temperature or flow rate fluctuated, to ensure it was always accurate. He enlisted the help of the gardener to integrate the flower garden into the clock, and expand irrigation, so that, he claimed, when the clock finally started, the entire garden would hum to one rhythm, in perfect synchronicity. When the clock was complete, and Ktoto was satisfied, he toggled the lever that would start the flow. It ticked its first second the moment his wife went into labor. More rumors started nearly immediately, about Ktoto's strange, seemingly magical ability for coincidence. Ktoto paid them no mind, even when they were sometimes fringed with a silent accusation, as magic was not a welcome device under the rule of the Tyrant King. After the defeat of King Damien and the establishment of a new rule, there was a brief period of increased unrest, as instability does not breed prosperity, but it quickly passed. Ktoto's daughter, Marta, grew in an increasingly happy and wealthy household. Ceana started to forget her concerns about leaving to Qrill, focusing more on the success of the business, and her young daughter. The garden, irrigated by the complex water clock, grew incredibly lush and vibrant. The gardener complained he had no work to do, and asked how such a thing was possible. Ktoto simply asked him how many gardens he knew of that were watered on a perfect schedule, as if that was sufficient explanation. Life seemed to be approaching an ideal, for the small family. Until Mount Egon erupted. Ktoto initially took it in stride, assuming the growing subterranean pressure was likely the cause of the sudden life of the spring that drove his clock. He ignored initial rumors that it was not a natural eruption, but rather the work of an enraged primordial elemental. The economy of his small paradise, however, started to suffer more than it ever had. Without the support of the agriculture and mining towns farther north, there were far fewer travelers on the road. Ktoto tried to gain new customers in the form of soldiers or adventurers passing through, but found little luck. Such folk had little use for expensive, heavy, and bulky clocks. As the number of refugees increased, and custom shrank, he started again to provide for the village. He gave away nearly his entire financial estate trying to bouy up the small town. He opened his small boarding house to refugees who couldn't find anywhere else to stay. Ceana, more adamantly, tried anew to convince her husband to leave. To take the family and flee to Qrill. Take what wealth they had left and open a new shop there. They would be safer there, and have more customers. Ktoto insisted that things would be better. The elementals (if there were such things, he still was convinced the eruption was natural) would soon be defeated or eliminated and life would resume to normal. In an attempt to satisfy his wife, he paid laborers to build up the walls, and he designed new locks for the doors that would be all but impossible to pick. He tried his best to shore up his family's home. Ceana, while initially mollified, did not stay content for long. One night in May of 598 WTA, Ceana woke Ktoto, Marta in tow. "I'm leaving. I've already packed, and have nothing to say but goodbye. I'm taking little Marta and we're going to Qrill," Ceana whispered, half in tears but still somehow fierce. "I'm not little, ma!" Insisted Marta. Ktoto was shocked, mortified and confused. He could not comprehend why she would leave him. "Ceana! What? I don't -- how can you say that? I love you! What will you do in Qrill?" Ceana stared into his eyes, tears welling up but gathering her will. "I took enough money for rent for several months -- maybe longer. We'll find something. If you won't come with us." The question in her voice broke Ktoto's heart. "Of course I'll come with you!" He reinforced the comment by finding the closest pair of trousers he could find and hastily donning them. "But I promise you, we're perfectly safe, here. There's nothing to be --" An angry shout came from the garden. From the garden. From inside the walls. Ktoto scrambled to his feet and ran into the hall, while Ceana, visibly shook, grabbed Marta and followed behind. Ktoto barely had time to take more than a couple steps when a loud bang, from the direction of the garden door, shook the residence. Ktoto recognized the sulfuric smell that reached his nostrils. Explosive powder. Low grade, poorly mixed. The latching mechanism useless, someone opened the door and several large men came pouring through the opening. Ktoto stood for several seconds, just dumbfounded. He had thought the locks were unpickable, so they just blew them up. But how did they get inside the walls so easily..? Ktoto recognized one of the men coming towards him, apparently cautious. "You! You're Artair! I let you sleep inside my walls. How can you dare to do this to your benefactor?" To his credit, Artair had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "Aye, you helped us. But we heard what they say in town. You have magic. Impossibly lucky. Impossibly wealthy. You're not doing half of what ya' could! My family -- I have a son, you see, and a wife, parents! -- we're starving. So we're here to make a deal: my family for yours." "What do you mean my family for yours?" He looked behind him, where Ceana and Marta had been just moments before. They were gone. Had they gone out the back door? Suddenly, Ktoto didn't have time for this poor fool. What had happened to his girls? "Listen, we're leaving tonight anyway. You want more money? Take everything that's left. You want my work? Take any of the clocks you see," and he gestured to the myriad of clocks lining nearly every corridor in the residence. "I don't care anymore." He dashed away from the intruder to the other end of the hallway. The door there, normally bolted from the inside, was unlocked. Ceana ran away while I wasted time talking to this man... Ktoto reached for the door, to run out and find his wife and daughter, but a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder. Artair was quite large. Ktoto had never bothered to notice. "Sorry, but I can't let you leave. My family for yours." As if on queue, there was a scream, from a small child's throat. Pure anguish, horror and rage flooded Ktoto. That was Marta. Crying in terror. Using strength Ktoto didn't know he had, he threw off the large refugee and dashed through the door. He ran around the corner, into the garden. Red stains on white marble paving stones. A clock happily ticking away in perfect time. His beautiful wife, clutching her chest and gasping for breath, still holding onto Marta's wrist. A stiletto quietly pulled out of her right lung by another man. What have they done?! "What have you done?!" The voice was not Ktoto's, but Artair's. "You were supposed to restrain her, take her, not kill her. You idiot!" Ktoto continued to stand, in silent horror, as his wife bled out in front of him. She's dying. They stabbed her and I just stand here. He took a step forward as fear -- stark, mad and raving -- gripped his chest. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and little else. A low growl rose from his throat. Primal and raw. He didn't hear it. He took another step forward. "I'm sorry. She was running -- I didn't know anyone could run that fast -- and I wasn't sure what she could, you know, do. She is his wife after all. It's okay, we still have the girl. Hey, you, stop!" The man holding the stiletto let Ceana's bleeding body drop, and grabbed Marta. The little red-headed girl was quietly whimpering, tears running down her cheeks. Ktoto didn't know what to do. His head pounded, adrenaline seeking a release. He couldn't think. They had his girl, but they'd stabbed Ceana. She'd die soon. They'd kill Marta. THEY'LL KILL MARTA. When he leapt -- fury fueling every movement -- toward his daughter, they did kill Marta. Ktoto watched as the same man slid a knife -- the same cursed stiletto -- into his daughter's breast. Ktoto just stopped. His world came crashing down. The clock -- the damned perfect garden clock -- continued to tick, but Ktoto didn't seem to notice the passage of time. There was no coming back from that. He knew enough anatomy; he'd read the books. He'd always read the damned books. They were dead, even if they weren't yet. It was just a matter of time. How many ticks? How many rotations of that damned shaft? How many liters of water had to flow through that clock before all the blood evacuated his little girl? Ktoto didn't notice the men, fighting among themselves in their fear, in the heat of the moment. They were watching him, confused why he did nothing. They were weary. They were scared. They tried asking him questions; he heard none and answered none. Eventually, disturbed, ashamed, and horrified at their own actions, they fled. Ktoto didn't watch them go. He watched his wife and daughter die, along with any joy remaining in his heart. He felt his life draining with theirs. He listened to the slow whirrrr-tick as the clock kept its consummate time. He knew the exact second his daughter gave her last breath. It was the same second his wife did. How was that possible? 3:24:16. After that, Ktoto stopped listening to the clock. He stopped listening to anything. He had built so much, worked so hard. Obsessed. Ignored his wife. In his pride he thought he could do everything. He could build a perfect clock. He could build a perfect family. He could keep an entire village alive. He could do everything. Except, when it really mattered, he could do nothing but watch his family die. He wasn't a master craftsman. He was a useless coward and a fool. Silent as the dead that graced his courtyard, he walked into his workshop, and got the largest hammer he had. He staggered back to the magnificent clock that fueled the faultless garden, raised the hammer, and summarily began to destroy the masterpiece of his pride. His greatest work, he thought. But he knew it was a lie. His greatest work had died at 3:24:16. Soon there was nothing but a large, central shaft, ending in a bulky gear. The central shaft that had spanned the entire height, driving all other motion. He threw away his hammer and picked up the shaft. It was extraordinarily heavy. Something he could use, even if he had no idea how. He didn't notice that the spring, which had suddenly started flowing on his wedding day, had just stopped equally as suddenly. "This is real." He told himself, hefting the improvised weapon. "This is the only thing I have that is real: my broken pride." As he started to leave, he noticed that the desperate refugees, in their hasty retreat, had left behind the stiletto they had used to end two lives. He picked it up, wiped it on a broad leaf. "And my shame." He put it into a loop in his pants. "From this point on, I am nobody. Just someone, anyone. No name, no homeland. No origin. I am кто-то неизвестное. Я -- Ктото Неизвестный." And he left his house with nothing but that shaft and that knife, vowing to find a way to redeem himself, and hopefully die in the process.
  6. Thanks for the warm welcome, everyone. I'm not super picky! Melodrama is probably the only thing I don't enjoy. When reading, I definitely prefer character development more than anything. The plot is usually only of interest to the extent it drives character development. I'm pretty similar when I write, where I tend to focus on internal conflict, rather than physical conflict. I'm thinking I might stick to mostly typical fantasy fare, but I might change my mind. I've never written much sci-fi or cyberpunk.
  7. Hello all, My name is Zach, and I've been writing for as long as I can remember. In my teenage years I participated on and off in Dae Luin (and whatever it was called before that), and had tons of fun there, and grew a lot as a writer. I'm a member and have participated historically in creative writing workshop forums over the years. In recent months (not really related to quarantine, just coincidence) I've been missing creative writing, and actually checked to see if Dae Luin was still around, but it had closed, so I found the next best thing (or maybe even better -- time will tell). I have a one year old, a pretty busy day job, and a house-that-is-a-project so I'm not sure how much time I'll have. For the time being I'll just be lurking, acquiring familiarity with the culture, lore and style here. I hope to get to know more of you better in the future and write thrilling and moving story lines.
  8. Hello, friend, I'm vielle! Welcome to Valucre! 😄 The New Member's Guide is a good place to get started here. Also, don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions or need any help! 💖


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