Presentation & Setting

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Presentation & Setting

Post by Admin on Sat Oct 11, 2014 10:14 pm

#Barbaric-Castle is a free-form, non-fantasy medieval RP that can be accessed through the Java chat applet or with mirc by connecting on the server

Non-fantasy means that there are no elves, dragons, orcs or mages in here. The only magic allowed is the one perceived in the context of authentic medieval perception (e.g. accusations of witchcraft, superstitions, phenomena regarded as supernatural for lack of understanding).

Its basic, easy core concept based on copyrighted material borrowed and loosely adapted for the purpose of the RP from a novel in progress by the founder of this site.

Please be advised that your introduction of a character in the room will imply that you have read and agreed to the following:

Barbaric-Castle often presents extreme graphic contents of a violent and/or sexual nature; it also features at least one character with severe sociopathic tendencies; user discretion is advised. If you’re looking for smut, plain sex, BDSM, Gor, Harlequin romances or a tea-house to sit and drink, then this isn’t the place for you. Even though the RP frequently involves some aspects of SM or the like (example: enslavement and collaring, punishments), its goal is to harbor literate, imaginative contents that involve long-term stories with setting, storyline and characterization.

Be warned that drama and general bullshit will NOT be tolerated. You don’t like it, just leave it.  

Although the founder can story-tell to some extent, users are also invited to create their own stories, some with which the founder would interact, some others not.

The all-too-common IC mood-killing sitting-drinking-watching combination is not encouraged.

Cross-gender characters are allowed. You are not your character, and other people aren’t their characters either. We’re all here to have creative fun.

Scotland Highlands, in the year 1079.

Scotland Highlands, in the year 1079.
A mountain top dominating the deep forested wilderness of secluded region has been claimed by a dark outlaw, who is said to be the eldest, bastard son of the deceased Northern Anglo-Saxon Earl Godric Goodwill. However, others who have caught a glimpse of him say that he looks too foreign, too Saracen-like to be the little boy Edgar they once knew, who had been treacherously sold as a slave by Godric’s wife years before: they believe that he is the Devil’s spawn. Wherever the truth lies, “something wicked this way comes”.

Thirteen years have passed since the Norman Conquest that has changed the Great Isle forever, at least down south, past the Low Lands. Locals are stuck between their new Continental conquerors, the English and the already settled Vikings. The old folks still recall how they had been expelled from their homes and how all of Northern England’s lands had been mercilessly scorched before being claimed as royal hunting grounds for Duke William. Those had been dark times. They still are. As the forest gradually reclaimed its rights, one particular mountainous region of the Scottish Highlands was basically forgotten by the mighty of this world; consequently, had reverted to their state of primitive wilderness and had remained deserted save for the nomadic occupation of the Viking clan of Tusk the Barbarian.

But, in the middle of the dark forest, on a steep hilltop where the remains of an old motte and bailey fort had been, over ancient Roman ruins, a dungeon tower and stronghold has emerged again, surrounded a moat and gates, ominously reddish in color, like a gigantic, malevolent mushroom. It is occupied by a fierce outlaw and a cruel, devoted elite guard.

Rumor has it that this man, now referred to as Lord Redstone, is indeed Edgar Godricson and, as such, a fugitive slave; but many believe that he’s no less than the incarnation of the Beast, who has come back to haunt the forest like a restless evil spirit, killing all those who have been unwise to look the other way while he suffered and was ignored. If you ask elders in Tusk’s clan, they will retell you how he was born one night of November, and the sky went red with bloodied Northern lights as a warning. An old woman even recalls that he had a thick tuft of black hair and that he grew up unnaturally fast, for he walked before his ninth month. Oddly, no one remembers having ever heard him talk. Tusk, who was his age, heard him howl like a wolf. One day, the little boy he knew as Edgar disappeared, never to be seen again.
Until this day. The wolfing has returned as a fearsome, demonic Alpha and the forest no longer rests peacefully in the moonlight.

Most people who remain from the sparse population of crofters as well as travelers choose to stay clear of the Beast’s path; however, a few men are drawn by a dark call, by barely concealed taste for blood, revenge and power and are selected to become part of a future, feared and adventurous Praetorian Guard; others – the less fortunate ones – are also “chosen”, in a very different way, to wear the iron collar of a Barbaric-Castle slave about their necks.

Whose side will you choose? Dare enter the lair of the Beast and find out.

Nothing is real. Everything is permitted.
-The maxim of the Assassins.


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