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-Malice-

The Borders that Close

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It is only through inaction that evil may truly triumph.

 

Borders, boundaries, battlefields, these terms were often interchangeable for the term territory, a place owned or sometimes occupied by a particular force or people, and though their laws were sometimes as varied as the lands that bore them, there remained one constant within this ever changing world. Profit was a concept that transcended tongues, a thing as timeless as trade itself, which inspired men to travel great distances and eventually, even brought trouble to Orisia's shores.

 

The Mermaid's Tear wasn't a pretty ship, even by smuggler standards, nor was it as advanced as the vessels which charted Terrenus's waters, but in the months since La'Ruta had risen, technology within Orisia had been so disrupted that the poachers who purchased the vessel had forsaken style, in favour of subtlety. Shipping had been set back centuries, as electrical dreadnoughts evolved into sail-powered schooners, resetting the naval landscape within Orisia until, following the events near Veelos, hulks loomed solemn and silent like the ill-fated Ever-linde upon the edges of its waters, and any travel by sea was now governed by wind and weather. Amidst these forests of sails then, a worn old cog attracted little attention, passing back and forth between Ceyana and mainland Genesaris, though what this little craft carried on its voyages was far more precious than gold.

 

Possessing neither swiftness of knots, nor abundance of hold, the Mermaid's Tear had been crewed for one purpose, and one purpose only, a fact that became apparent to Charles, the newest deck-hand, when they crept across Ceyana's sand one night, not in search of slaves or of silver, but instead freshly lain eggs. The tactic was simple enough, Charles supposed, as his companions lit a fire and then hurled rocks at the entrance of a cave, tempting whatever beast lay inside to emerge and investigate. It was the frantic scrabble that followed which he wasn't prepared for, however, when a long sinuous body appeared, crowned by far too many fangs, and proceeded to chase them, never straying far from its den, but always frustrated enough to dart after them, again and again.

 

It was whilst this diversion was occurring though, that the crew designated 'runners' acted, slipping stealthily into the cave's maw and vanishing within its depths, before returning moments later clutching a warm and gleaming prize. Naturally there were casualties, as dragonkin and thief danced to defend their claim, but for every one of the precious eggs they made off with, the Captain could afford twenty new deck-hands, and so the rewards far outweighed the dangers the endeavour created.

 

----------------

 

Several hours later, Charles was safely aboard the ship once more, or at least most of him was, he swore he'd left half his hair smouldering outside that cave, but the crew were in high spirits none the less, with three new dragon eggs locked safely down below. This, by all accounts, was a successful trip, and so the fifteen men they'd lost that night were toasted and then forgotten beneath a haze of rum, whilst the Mermaid softly slipped out to sea, just another vessel heading home, just another shadow sailing west.

 

There are some things in life, however, that cannot be swayed by spices, some creatures who cannot be coerced by coin, and so although the Captain had anticipated an uneventful evening, given the years he'd been taking this route, something had changed within Orisia, something that would alter days and deeds for centuries to come. Charles had the watch that night, a thing most of the crew had escaped by getting blindingly drunk, and so when the water off the starboard bow began to bubble slightly, he dismissed it as nothing more than an inebriated imagination, a trick his eyes had invented, to pierce the boredom of staring out to sea. Kneading his eyelids with his knuckles, the sailor squinted, waiting for his vision to clear, as if a lens were adjusting into focus, but when he had cleared the weariness from them he almost shouted in surprise, for there upon the ocean's surface stood a figure, calm as could be.

 

Words caught within Charles's throat though, when his stare swept from the stranger's moonlit frame to the armour that adorned it, a thing somehow darker than the night around it, as if it drank the light from the air until all that remained was a void, hungry and terrible, an abyss which swallowed his gaze whole. Frozen with baited breath, a voice came then, above the singing, above the laughter, until it engulfed the entire vessel and rang like thunder in his head, “Orisia forgives trespassers no more.

 

Confusion reigned in the silence that followed, punctuated at intervals first by the Captain muttering 'could they know about the eggs?', and then the sounds of alarm as something rose out of the waves, a beast of gears and steel, whose head turned menacingly toward the Mermaid's Tear. Perched atop this mechanical monstrosity, the armoured figure glanced impassively down at the poachers, regarding the white flag they raised with neither pity, nor amusement, when the crew realized the Orisian submarine dwarfed their ship and the Captain tried to negotiate. The chirrup of a question resounded within the monster's mind, as he towered there, like some judge above the docks, asking what his orders were, causing him to think back to the meeting of the Black Heart, and the wishes Gabriela expressed there.

 

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Consume them in flame, the Warlord responded, knowing well that the Queen disliked killing, but also that these foreigners would server as an example to others, when the carefully leaked news of their demise eventually spread. Citizens that broke Orisia's laws would face justice, as dictated by its ruler, but any who threatened its safety, such as slavers or smuggling scum like this would face something far crueller, a force whose strength was not mercy, but war.

 

As the first torpedo sped toward the Mermaid's Tear, and sailors struggled to abandon ship, the figure strode into the fires of history, and ushered Orisia, along with three of its unborn citizens into a new era.

 

[spoiler]

 

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Orisian waters are now policed by not only the Orisian navy, but also a force drafted from the Barbed Legion, Malice's army, as well. Technology no longer functions properly, due to the rebirth of La'Ruta, Orisia's native magic, and should be roleplayed accordingly. Any questions or queries may be directed to Gabriela or myself.[/spoiler]

Edited by -Malice-

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Weaponry Guidelines for Orisia

 

Since the Borders that Close event, it is to be assumed that within Orisian territory (including the waters that surround it), the native magic of the Islands, La'Ruta, disrupts the chemical make-up or mechanisms of technological devices and weaponry. This will cause armaments such as modern 9mm handguns to malfunction and potentially jam/explode and should therefore be Roleplayed accordingly, but this restriction is only whilst in Orisia, and they will function normally once your character has departed.

 

Examples of weaponry permitted within Orisia:

Swords, Shields, Axes, Bows, Crossbows, Halberds, Pikes, etc

 

Examples of weaponry that won't work:

Handguns, Machine Guns, Grenades, Airships (unless otherwise discussed with Pasion or myself),

 

Overall I feel it is important to express that Gabriela and I have introduced this system not to inhibit your creativity, (there are plenty of zones upon Valucre where technology works fine), but to instead produce a unique setting where tales of true fantasy and adventure can unfold without the immersion-shredding interruption of encountering characters with rocket launchers, when you yourself wield a blade.

Edited by -Malice-

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