Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  
- hacknslash.

triptych: the forging of the angiris council. [private; invite-only]

Recommended Posts

---- summary.

Triptych is a role-play based on the struggle of Heaven and Hell during the origins of celestial power, starting from the beginning of the Great Conflict and ending at the dissolution of Sanctuary (and thereby the creation of humanity). The idea of the roleplay is to encompass three primary pieces - of which the word 'triptych' comes from - that represent the image of Heaven, Hell and Man. The story will be broken in to a triad, with the creation of the Angiris Council of Archangels being the first, the rise of the Prime Evils as the second, and the rise and fall of Man as the third.

Although this is heavily based on religious entities and artifacts, the roleplay itself is intended to be more open in lore as to not misinterpret certain features or 'aspects' of religious beliefs and conceptions. In lamens terms, I don't want to keep the stereotypical image of Heaven being the good guys and Hell harboring the bad guys - the lines are more grayed out as to allow a more realistic and savage approach to how the Great Conflict began and the rise of humanity started.

I will be running DM on prime characters that will be unplayable during some portions of the triad, as well as DMing any characters not being used by another person in the roleplay. This main thread will serve as a guiding tool, showing the character list and correct posting order as to ensure a smooth, quality streamline of posts. Also included will be brief summaries of the context of the roleplay as it's carried out.

With that being said, the main characters are listed below:

The Angiris Council:

Inarius - the Archangel of Creation (UNPLAYABLE)

Tyrael - the Archangel of Justice (RESERVED)

Auriel - the Archangel of Love (VACANT)

Imperius - the Archangel of War (VACANT)

Itherael - the Archangel of Balance (VACANT)

Malthael - the Archangel of Death (VACANT)

The leader of the Angiris Council, Inarius, will be DM'd as he plays a heavy chunk of lore that the story requires.

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

Storyline Prologue

'The Forging of the Angiris Council' begins with the rise of the Great Conflict, which is the eternal war between Heaven and Hell. Originally, God made a pact with the daemon Lucifer that he would grant him one monument and in return, there would be peace between the two supernatural factions. Lucifer agreed, and with his promise God created the Hellforge deep within Burning Hell, granting Lucifer the ability to create Soulstones in order to establish some form of governship over his minions. Unknown to Lucifer, however, was that God created a seperate artifact within Heaven named as the Crystal Arch; this artifact was able to monitor and limit the true power of the Soulstones, which without would surely give the Legions of Hell a great advantage of power.

Over time, Lucifer came to suspect foul play and discovered of the Crystal Arch and its ability to watch over the Soulstones he created. Deciding to break the treaty, he gave orders to the Great Evils to destroy the Crystal Arch so that he could use the Soulstones in order to claim the throne of Heaven for himself.

And there, the Great Conflict begins.

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

Disclaimer: I intend to make this invitational-only simply because it helps me reduce the possibility of the roleplay sinking, as most public roleplays tend to do. This is not a way of scaring anyone off, as I am open to anyone joining in as an Archangel to the Council, or any other type of character that could properly fit in to the storyline. However, I do ask that you contact me via private message regarding any form of interest so that we're on the same page. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.

Edited by - hacknslash.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Fear.

It's the foundation of everything. To war, fear is our enemy. To death, we fear of being forgotten. To life, we fear a world of solitude. To me, fear is my greatest power.

We were created by the most supreme of beings; wicked instruments of war, uncanny beings of Heaven that do not abide by the rules, but rather create them. Hundreds. Thousands. We are the creations of God's will, striking the abjured rules and precursors of our kind with the tip of a glamorous sword.

Archangels is what they call us.

My name is Inarius. I was created as one of thousands, yet I rose to become one of six. Six Archangels, all driven by the purpose to derail from this wicked, endless war of stoic egos to establish pure order and rule over the campaigns of the burning supernatural. From the depths of the Burning Hell to the rising tides of the Last Bastion, we are the few. We are the Angiris Council.

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

"Tell me again, where is this Arch? And what of its weakness?"

The depths of the Burning Hell were bleak, leaving nothing short of imagination to the eyes of even the most malevolent of Hell's minions. Deep within this abyss lie the darkest of creatures, beings that dwelled within the eternal blackness and lied in wait for something that seemed unattainable. In the darkness, a stirring heat lie so hot that the beings that called it home were seared from any resemblance of supernatural flesh; only musculature was present, and even that seemed hardly capable of withstanding such a distasteful environment.

The voice that spoke in questions was but a murmur, vibrating off walls that could not be seen by even the most decorated eyes. Each syllable seemed to cause a tremor from within the depths of the black cauldron, as if the world would collapse at any given moment. Yet it stood still, and it would stand for all eternity.

"Tell me everything!"

A spark of light erupted as the last word spilled from the voiceover, and in that crimson flash of raw heat came the resemblance of a creature of the most foul proportions. The being's horns alone stood nearly eight feet tall, four of them jarring straight in to an elongated skull. What seemed like a mouth was cut in to multiple, complex angles to create a series of vicarious teeth; flesh was porous and rough, with raw organs beating in the open heat with no real defense to protect them.

And there, another voice spoke - this one caused no tremors to the world around it, but instead was much more soft-spoken. An ethereal echo resounded off of the being's every word, making it carry as if but a whisper.

"The Crystal Arch resides below the throne of God, standing as the doorstep to his divinity. You seek a weakness? Hah! Not even I know of such a thing -- it is the pinnacle of all that is great, and with that it is perfect! It has no weakness!"

Silence entertained the Burning Hells for quite some time, only to resound by the tremors of the original questioning voice.

"Perfect?" It began, drowned in curiosity. "Too much do I find myself confronted with that word - perfect. Perfect is an aspiration, yet its definition in terms of significance is flawed! NOTHING IS PERFECT!"

Laughter was followed through from the ethereal counterpart, to which only infuriated the monstrosity to the point of which a low, constant growl emanated from the world around them. Suddenly, a burst of light only able to be described as an explosion came to be; flames ignited a single arm that matched in its grotesque appeal to that of the four-horned being, with mutilated limbs grabbing ahold of another being - this one obviously being the ethereal savant that mocked it.

"You laugh at the Lord of Hatred when you know of my reputation? How I pity your ignorance." Maligned fingers tightened around the being, only to be suddenly withdrawn as another bright explosion interrupted the dialogue. A scream - if that was a plausible defintion - came from the one titled as the Lord of Hatred as the palm of which he gripped the other creature seemed to ignite in burning blood. There was an evident wound that pierced the entirety of his palm, seared with a charace of light. Before him, the once-unseen creature that he had grabbed had suddenly ignited in to a visual appearance. A myriad of supernatural tentacles of pure light embossed around the visage of a simple silhouette, branded by the markings of armour decadent to a being of Heaven. An Archangel, to be exact - a creature of Heaven so deep within the recess of Hell, and for what cause?

"You would do well not to do that, Mephisto. You and I both know the conditions that have to be made. The Crystal Arch for a thousand Soulstones. Have you my pact?"

"Of course-- of course I have your pact!" The creature known as Mephisto hissed, dissipating back in to the darkness. "You will have your Soulstones. Tell me how to reach the Arch!"

"Very well. I will report disturbance from its gates, and with it you will have a short window of opportunity to seize and destroy the Crystal Arch. The defenses of it are many, yet you will find that of those defending it many will not come to its aid. It has been arranged. The Last Bastion stands as your only issue, for behind its walls lie the Arch and the throne of God." The Archangel's words were cunning, with each verse coming out barred of hesitation. It was clear that this was an elaborate plan, to which it seemed nearly fool-proof. "My Soulstones, Mephisto. Where are they?"

This time it was the Lord of Hatred that laughed. Unlike the low-rumbling growl of agitated that swelled from the beast before, his laughter was much more profound and destructive. Walls of the Burning Hells' domain could be heard crumbling in the distance, and the sounds of moans from the waking dead intensified in to a chorus of wailing voices. "Your Soulstones? Why, they're here!" With a sudden rush, the unwounded hand of Mephisto lurched forward and with it came the gleam of a red, crystal-esque shard. Before the Archangel could react, it'd find the Soulstone lodged deep within its chest, twisted until it ripped the very core of the being's essence. The Archangel grew limp, floating adrift a spaceless world.

"I'll find a use for you later. For now, I'll let those thousand souls have their way with a servant to my suffering."

Edited by - hacknslash.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Pandemonium Fortress.

A dynamic structure wrought from the Great Conflict, the stronghold stood as a testament to the eternal struggle of dominance between Heaven and Hell. The very facings of the fortress were two-sided in nature; on one end upon the Gates of Heaven stood the brilliance of God's ideal image of perfection - shimmering, crystalline walls stood as the foundation to ivory towers that stretched beyond what any scope of reality could hold. On the other end lie the twisted nether of the most foul of incantations, a building wrought only from the depths of burning flames and the bodies of the dead. Inside this building was nothing short of absolute conflict; the very chambers and hallways themselves seemed to contend for victory just as much as the celestial beings did within their abode, and the floors themselves were nothing but a layer of ageless death from Angels and their Demons alike.

Near the Heavenly Gates of the fortress lie a single chamber marking its entry and only exit; a spherical shape gave refuge to the most decorated of divine beings, granting host to the blessings of the Eternal Light and with it the ability to defend the threshold of Heaven's territory. Only twice have the legions of Hell ever managed to come in to this single chamber, and both times they were slaughtered mercilessly.

Yet today the chamber held host to countless Archangels, of which was a rarity in itself. The occasion? A multitude of events - most notably that of which was influential to the recent inactivity within the Pandemonium Fortress.

"Tyrael! It is good to see you again, my friend."

A feminine voice carried through the typical chords of ethereal resonance, directed towards the new celestial being that had arrived for council. The one named Tyrael came to show himself in the most glorious of armor: a coat of plate consumed the majority of his body from the neck down, plastered with the brilliance of gold. What 'flesh' was present of the Archangel was covered in a cowl of light, that of which shined so bright that one would find it impossible to make out his facial features.

"As it is you, Auriel -- Imperius," Tyrael gave Auriel a proper nod before turning his attention to the one named Imperius. The Archangel was wearing his regal colors of blazing crimson, with the single depiction of an upturned, fiery sword emblazoned upon his breastplate. "May I ask why, of all places, we have decided to discuss the events here?"

"I had to see it for myself. And you're late, Tyrael. Where's your brother?"

"Inarius is tending to other things of no concern to myself or you. He sends his regards, but I assure you I can relay any information--"

"Relay any information, Tyrael? Hah! You and your brother are quite the act!" Imperius sneered, breaking away from his social circle to confront Tyrael face-to-face. Breaking the following silence a few moments later, Imperius' words were but a calm whisper to the ears of the Archangel he stood before. "You and I both know that something is amiss. These walls have been silent, Tyrael. They are never silent."

A simple shrug from Tyrael gave indication of his careless emotion towards the words that Imperius spoke. "Maybe the legions are dissipating. Or maybe they're contending in an uprising. Come on, Imperius - you and I both know that the structure of Hell is always fluxuating this way and that. Just because the waves have been more dampened does not mean that the absent-minded beasts are on to something."

"Maybe you're right, Tyrael. But never have we gone this long, with so little reports of assaults in however long this foul war has been set in motion. I grow tired of your foolish disbelief that these creatures are absent-minded; they are anything but! Have you forgotten our enemies so much that you dare to give them the power of underestimating them?"

"Watch your tongue," Tyrael snapped, his voice leaving a supernatural hiss behind each syllable that spat out. "Have you forgotten that it was I that pulled you from the darkness of the labyrinth countless times? Or that I have helped you slay the incarnations of the most vile? Tell me, Imperius -- where is the point in this meeting? To what end will you stop with these foolish misconceptions of plots to soil our grounds?"

Turning from Imperius, the Archangel of golden armor paced quietly around the chamber's walls closest to the group and Imperius of which he was having a discussion with. It was clear that he was growing impatient with Imperius' consistent nagging and false conspiracy beliefs. "Tell me something, Imperius," he commented after a few moments. "If you are to be concerned with the lack of inactivity as of late within this fortress, then why have you not summoned a campaign to thwart any future efforts against the bastion? We can reclaim it with ease if what you speculate as a decreasing number of assaults is true--"

"DAMN YOU, TYRAEL! Do you not see? That is what they'd want -- for their most prized and benevolent to leave, only to strike when it is most opportune! We can not think of this as an advantage. We must be cautious!" Imperius' voice drowned out any other sidebar conversations going on within the antechamber, leaving only the rest of the Archangels present to stare at the two at they conversed. "Agh! Then let us vote, if you want to be so close-minded!" The crimson-stained Archangel turned towards the nearest of his comrades - Itherael - and with that came his question. "And who better to ask than Itherael? Itherael! Tell me, what do you think of this? What would you do?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Balance within all likeness of life is necessary. Without balance, there is chaos, and with chaos, there is destruction. I breathe with the purpose of bringing order, and order will be restored.

Silence washed over the chamber as the attention shifted to the referenced Archangel. Itherael lurked closest to the confrontation, but like the others, had remained silent and absent from the fury that reigned between the two heavenly beings. It was often these two engaged themselves in a fierce quarrel and it was nearly upon every occasion that a vote was thought the solution. The embodiment of neutrality, Itherael found such practice to be absurd and useless, but knew such knowledge would fall upon deaf ears. In a world whose balance was crumbling with every blood bathed battle, it became more painfully obvious that the tension would undoubtedly erupt into a massive slaughter. It would become an apocalyptic dance of murder, every angel and demon engaged in an intricately well scripted play, and here they could very well become part of it. For quite some time had they avoided the possibility of an uprising and it was becoming more apparent some of them were growing anxious in this seemingly endless war. Moving from the shadows into the glory of the light that seemed to hover amongst its brothers and sisters, Itherael crossed its arms, preparing itself to speak. They all stared upon the creature with their minds open, for it was obvious how well respectful each was to the other.

" Arguing is inconsequential, " Itherael stated its usual and obvious thoughts about such a quandary, " The decreased volume of minions is apparent, and yet the likelihood of an uprising beyond our control is almost impossible. Perhaps the real objective has already been met."

The Archangel stared between the council that had gathered, but offered nothing more. The celestial's attire was nearly as breathtaking in complexity as the others, though a bit more lackluster in glow. Its features, more asexual and unrecognizable as neither male nor female, were without expression nor emotion. It's voice, offered to none but its own fellow Archangels, was oddly the combination of female and male in an eerily stale monotone. It was commonplace for the embodiment to be entirely impartial. Often finding itself without the need to make a decision between two different conclusions, especially amongst these two, it would certainly not take part in their silly voting system. However, there was a point to its words it had intended to make, which was yet to be seen upon the others' faces. The obvious internal conflict, were it to continue, would only give the darkness a further advantage. Divide and conquer, as they would say. The being turned to the side slightly, as though making it known to them all it was growing weary of the entire conversation. If there were to be a decision to be made, it needed to be made, for it was growing tired of the unnecessary confrontation amongst themselves.

Could their truly be something brewing beneath the bowels of hell? Itherael had a feeling they would soon find out.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Then we must prepare our defenses," Imperius shouted as Itherael finished, only to find in his dismay that the rest of the Archangels did not agree. Instead, Tyrael took position to use the temporary leverage to his advantage. Stepping forward and passing his crimson-decorated Archangel, he spoke with an absolute and direct tone.

"No. We must tend to what we always tend to, for that is what ensures the protection of the Eternal Light. To listen to every..," Tyrael turned, glaring at Imperius briefly before returning his gaze towards the crowd. "-- suspect claim of uprising from the depths will only lead us to paranoia, and with that we will surely crumble. Pandemonium Fortress will remain intact as it always has. But don't worry, my good friends - I'm sure Imperius will find a reason for us to congregate over these theories soon again!"

The room filled with hallowed laughter, drowning out any sensible reason to argue beyond Tyrael's statement. Although it was hard to interpret emotion, it was clear that Imperius was bridled with a form of fury equivalent to the most vile hatred towards his comrades at the moment. He turned and made his departure unnoticed, leaving the Archangels to tend to their regular conversing as the laughter would undoubtedly subdue itself in to remission. Before long, various clusters of the Archangels dispersed, and it wasn't until quite some time later that Tyrael found himself with the opportunity to speak to Itherael once more.

"Always reasonable, Itherael. How I wish I was created with your traits," Tyrael started the conversation light, trying to gain some insight to Itherael's true belief on the issue that was previously brought up. It was next to impossible to get Itherael to agree with one side or another, as the being seemed to easily drift upon the borderline of either side of an argument. "Alas, I am not. And neither is Imperius, for all of his glory."

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

<Finishing later; don't post yet Crystal, I've got a lot more to put in here.>

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

×