Queen Bots™
Just A Toy
- Intent: To create a new and interesting location within the Nether that the community may find some enjoyment in discovering. Plenty of RP opportunities both planned and unplanned.
- Image Credit:Note: Dividers, graphics, and images edited by
Queen Bots™
in Phostoshop CC.- Div Template Background (Catherine Radley)
- Main Top Image (Joseph Biwald)
- Under Description/At a Glance (Dorje Bellbrook)
- Under Description/Edifices (Marco Hayek)
- Point of Interest/Spirit on the Ocean (Sung Choi)
- Point of Interest/Ephor Chambers (Dorjie Bellbrook)
- Point of Interest/The Valley (Megatruh)
- Netherworld Info/The City (Dorjie Bellbrook)
- Canon: N/A
- Permissions: N/A
- Links: Netherworld
- City Name: Diavolin
- Netherworld Realm Alias: "Mirage Fields" or the "Shattered Reach"
- Classification: Rural Town
- Location: Netherworld
- Affiliation: N/A - Inhabitants of Diavolin
- Population: Sparse (Low Population Density: 5,000 to 6,000)
- Demographics: All manner of species exist within Diavolin despite the fact that the population itself is quite low. There is no official census nor a way to track all of the many spirits and exiled beings that pass willingly, and unwillingly, to and from the nether realm. From sentient Humans and Herglic to even a few non-sentient species such as the Vulptex, there is a very wide variety that have found their way within the cities transient borders for a multitude of reasons. Some say there are more creatures than people. Some say, the creatures are the people.
- Wealth: Medium
The denizens of the Shattered Reach don't have any sort of credit system to speak of. In that regard; they would be considered quite poor by the standards of those that dwell in realspace. They barter or trade, a very old form of commerce, without the exchange of actual monetary funds. Instead, they make decisions based on equivalent estimates of prices and goods. Some of them might seem very strange. A DL-44 from the known galaxy might cost about 750 credits. A DL-44 from Diavolin, due to rarity, might cost two saplings, a pig, and a small parcel of land. A full meal that costs 10 to 15 credits could be earned for the simple price of running an errand. It's all very subjective and the community is used to haggling. There is a certain level of honesty that seems to spring from it, which leads to a fairly even spread of wealth, and basic necessities. What they lack in true modern convenience they make up for with an abundance of strange and unusual resources. - Stability: Medium
Diavolin is often led by those that have existed in this plane of existence the longest. These individuals, the Ephor, determine the flow of trade and the enforcement of any laws the citizenry may need to abide by. Every so often a new element or individual will arrive and shake things up. There have been grievous losses in the past but the City of Mirage Fields tends to take care of its own issues rather swiftly. The balance has historically tilted abruptly from relative peace to revolt before the atmosphere reaches a tipping point and equilibrium is once again restored. Sometimes through discussion. Sometimes, through fire. It all depends on the offended parties. A slight murmur of displeasure can be overheard in the dark corners of cantinas but the current state of affairs has been reflective with heavy notes on considering their future. - Freedom & Oppression:
The Ephor rule this realm, though they are incredibly passive. They only rise from the form of seemingly innocuous residents to their full glory when the need arises. If passed in the marketplace, most wouldn't find anything of note about them at all. They prefer to blend in. Their strength and connection to the Nether tends to keep truly delinquent behavior to a minimum but the blind eye turned toward lesser offenses has made the life of a trickster very appealing. They do not need to pass edicts or warnings as the population is small enough that word of punishment, however rare, spreads through the community as if it had sprung wings. The people hold many freedoms that would be familiar to the rest of the galaxy, though, they cannot leave Diavolin. Otherwise, they have a right to work, live, and spend their days as they please. Within reason.
Commonly Accepted Practices:- Keep to your word. They don't grade on a curve for this. A promise is a promise and an oath is an oath. (Be careful, words may be twisted just enough so that no laws are broken.)
- When someone asks for a loan it is usually wise to give it, however, debts must always be repaid to the satisfaction of the lender. The borrower may not pay with exactly what they took but they can offer up something of the equivalent in kind.
- Reciprocity and obligatory return are strongly emphasized.
- Visitors may not stay more than 48 Galatic Standard Hours.
- Citizens may not leave Diavolin unless it is for official business requested by the Ephor.
- Different parts of the Shattered Reach, as it is broken, have slightly different customs.
- The Ephor have ruled that "It wasn't me—It was a shapeshifter who looked like me" is not a valid defense for any crime.
- Knowingly trading shoddy or adulterated goods is illegal, while public intoxication, disturbing the peace, gambling, and even the occasional assault is mostly fine.
- Theft can land the perpetrator in a soul-sucking Ephor prison trap.
- Murder is a complicated subject that often relies on case details. Outcomes are determined by the Ephor. Sometimes, the deceased deserved it.
- The innocent do not travel at night. None should, if they wish to live.
- More will likely spring up in RP as governed by PC writers (to their choosing).
- Description:
Diavolin is located several hops, skips, and jumps from a truly terrible place that some refer to as Chaos or Hell. It may have been part of it at one point in time but has since been separated by a variety of other realms and what appear to be landmasses. They tend to shift and rarely maintain a completely static locality. The entrances to the Shattered Reach are tall intricate towers that are maintained by the power of the Ephor and the Nether. They allow visitors in but they do not permit residents to leave unless given clearance by those that maintain it. The interior of the realm is far larger on the inside than it looks on the outside. What is colloquially referred to as a city could actually be called a small continent by the unknowing.
The expanse past the gate gives a feeling of old-world ruins combined with what appears to be some level of sophisticated stone-work and technology. It is unknown whether or not the technology is still fully in operation. The architecture seems to be made of rather iridescent slates of pearlescent shale that mingle with greenery and nature. Rather than to fight one another for dominance it seems that in centuries past they have grown together rather than apart. Overall, the general view is quite an enchanting spectacle. Strange. With star-like features burning in the sky and low hanging moons or planets that can never be reached. The "sky" is a term that should be used very, very loosely. There are some strange edifices that might leave an onlooker with a sense of foreboding. They are leftover relics from a bygone era. No longer in use. None will speak of them, but, all will have the notion that they are better left forgotten.
Oracle Ocean [North]:
At best? They use the large body of water recreationally, when it freezes, and collect the frost flowers that form on the shore for decoration. They never thaw, never die.
There are spirits and souls that cling to existence in this place. Ghosts. Sprite-like creatures fill the area and tend to be rather mischievous toward those that wander so far North. It is also rumored that the Oracle Ocean is what gives the Ephor their strength and a definitive connection to the Nether.
Nether Moon Cantina [City Center]:
A fond and familiar place for the locals of Diavolin to spend their evenings and trade personal wares. It's a place where individuals from all spheres seem to rub elbows and dig into hearty stews with predatory efficiency. The scent of freshly baked bread spills through the air and effectively blots out the less than pleasing odor of old beer and stale air. Everyone who is anyone has visited the Cantina at some point, though, the staff seem to have been the same for decades. They can be seen mingling with the crowd, talking, and carrying on while listening to the details of familiar stories and political issues. Bounties can be found on the board as well as adventure offerings. If there is a secret to be found? The Nether Moon knows. It always, knows.
Jade King Bazzar [South]:
If travelers pass through the City Center and Residential Areas they will eventually come across a flurry of activity. Nothing is more densely populated than the Trading Empire that the people of Diavolin have built. The marketplace, named for the deep, green shade of fabric used to decorate the stalls and the light hints of gold thread woven within them, is massive. For an area that seems almost to breathe of the distant countryside, it is an obviously lavish touch that has evolved from far simpler means. It is essentially a wholesale market that has been broken down so that customers can still broker contracts and deals as an individual.
To the right and left side of a pearlescent pathway, there are a variety of options. The first thing to see are mostly metal goods and raw materials vendors. They sell Durasteel, Tin, Electrum, Aurodium, Songsteel, Silk, Bamboo, Timber, Silver, Gold, and a plethora of hand-woven textiles. There are custom armor and weapon stalls that boast not only items made of Phrik but more decorative pieces, such as jewelry, made of Orichalc. There are also a variety of food merchants that offer dried dates, nuts, but also rice, sugar (very rare, and very expensive), and exotic spices from the far ends of Honnaner Heights. Many food items would be unrecognizable to an outsider, but very familiar, in taste and smell. Tree bark that melts and tastes of chocolate. Flowers with petals that are reminiscent of sweet spun sugar. Street carts boast already cooked meals and satisfying drinks, though, many are laden with extremely potent alcohol. Plain drinkable water is actually more costly than a bottle of distilled Rose Wine. One can also find clothing, jewels, livestock, and plants native to Diavolin.
People draw attention to themselves, negotiate deals, or shout things here and there with fervor. It's very intense, however, seemingly enjoyable. Beware, pickpockets.
The Ephor Chambers [Further South]:
Honnanet Heights [East of Marketplace]:
This area seems to be largely unexplored, save, by those who are brave enough to face the wilds of Diavolin without the protection of the Ephor. The further the citizens get from the city center the more dangers they face. However, the more valuable the treasure. A span of waving fields full of purple passion flowers and hidden secrets would greet any wanderer. It would be terribly easy to become turned around, lost, and find themselves completely trapped once nightfall stole the day. There are many creatures that roam the plains when the sun is up but that number increases tenfold at night. Where there are grazers, there are predators, and they don't really mind what they eat. Meat is meat. Be it puffer pig or a silly human.
Past the fields are a series of high mountain ranges that even fewer dare travel. Mostly, they are scaled for ice collection. Water that is free of pollutants or contaminants is hard to come by and that which exists along the slopes is the purest that can be found. It is dangerous work and it wouldn't be unusual to find a skeleton or two littering the path. This is both due to wildlife, extreme weather, and looters, but also because natural vegetation is not always what it appears to be. Some fruit that seems poisonous is actually safe; while what appears safe is truly deadly. Items that look wholly unappealing, covered in dirt, can taste of the sweetest honey. A shiny red apple can taste of rot.
There is a presence here that is undoubtedly malicious.
Cinder Valley [West of the Marketplace]:
It's been a long time.
Past Cinder Valley is the Trial Forest. The trees are different here. The area seems to lack color, life and is often used by hardier warriors as a training ground. They seek to become physically stronger whilst also strengthening their mind. There is always something strange in Diavolin. A little whisper. Something that shouldn't be there. The people test themselves against the secrets of the Trial Forest to ensure their mental fortitude.
[HIGH]
There are no grand weapons in a traditional sense, however, Diavolin is extremely secure. The Preservers that serve beneath the Ephor are adept in defensive and offensive techniques and will obey the command of their betters at all costs. It is strange. Almost as if they have no choice.
The Ephor keep those who dwell within the Shattered Reach in the boundaries of the realm without hesitation or mercy. If the gates to realspace open there is most definitely a reason for it. Breaking into Diavolin uninvited is not impossible for a skilled Force User but it is incredibly challenging. The Ephor seem to maintain the ability to manipulate Diavolin at a whim, moreover, the city seems to have quite the will of its own. There are times when it might find someone rude and lock them out of their dwelling. Or, it will sense malicious intent, and drop a pile of snow on them. A breeze may decide to knock over a cart, while other times, it may leave gifts for those it deems worthy. On the other end of the spectrum, it has been known to let the ice of Oracle Ocean melt beneath the feet of an unsuspecting bystander and let them fall in. Inevitably, to partake of the hideous water. Some say Diavolin is testing them.
Others say they have already been judged.
- Gates: There are many pathways that could allow entry into Diavolin, through many points in real-space, and other points of the Nether—But they are often locked. There are ways inside, though. One simply needs to look. (Left Open for Freedom of RP)
- Lucidity: The entirety of Mirage Fields is very much so disjointed. Things are not always as they appear to be, even for the strongest of minds, and there is always a sense of something "more" taking place just beneath the surface.
- Hostility: Expect mixed reactions. Those that dabble in commerce will be grateful for a new source of trade while others will be suspicious. There are definitely dangers. Crossing the Preservers or the Ephor is a mistake that one can only hope to live to regret.
"Why can't we leave?"
The all too innocently posed question caused several of the individuals in the Jade Bazzar to look up from their stalls while patrons seemed to stop in their tracks. The words fell from a young man that couldn't have been more than seventeen. He wore a dark hat that kept sandy blonde hair back from his face. Pointed ears twitched in vague annoyance whilst he chewed absently on a sweet cinna-leaf in quiet contemplation. None of the adults ever answered the question. He had worked with his father for as long as he could remember. Making armor in the forge and then bringing it to market for sale. It wasn't as if they made anything but show-pieces, really. He could barely remember what his mother looked like.
She had gone. Why couldn't they go with her?
"Every half-wit knows why, boy.", a customer grumbled moodily, and the young man straightened up, realizing that his father was giving him the evil-eye. He recognized this man from the Nether Moon. He always drank the most and spoke the least. Everyone knew that something bad had happened out in Cinder Valley, near his farm, but no one was brave enough to press the old greybeard for details. At least not this early in the evening. Not sober, as he was. "The Ephor, karkin demons, ain't done with us yet."
If what the boy had said made the crowd go still; this comment made them flee. All at once, they scattered like dead dandelions in the summer wind.
Silence surrounded the Armory.
The boy's father, Duran Vel, sighed heavily. He had tawny brown hair that was just starting to show a speck of salt-and-pepper and very serious, very old, caf-dark eyes. His son got his coloring from his mother. And his runaway mouth, for sure. "I've asked you before Alcyone...Don't talk about the Ephor or the Preservers in front of Keiran. Or customers. You'll cost me way more than you're spending just because you want to take a jab at the state of things. It is what it is."
"It is as it's always been."
Alcyone Shysa stared at Duran Vel for a long moment. It looked as if he wanted to say something more and the two men seemed to glare at one another, unmoving, before Alycone looked away, muttering something that could, conceivably, have been an apology. Duran slowly nodded and reached up to scratch the back of his head. There was no harm done. The Ephor didn't appear from their hiding places just because one person invoked the word. It wasn't like some old wives tale where you spoke the name, spun around three times in the dark, and looked in the mirror at the stroke of midnight to summon them. It was more than that. As old as they were getting; The Ephor were far beyond that. Ancient. At least it felt that way. "Eh—No harm done."
Keiran seemed to slump again. For the first time, he thought he might actually get somewhere.
"I just don't see why you don't tell him the truth. You're not doing him any justice. There are people, there are things, with us that would kill him for an egg let alone the clothes on his back."
The young man's eyes snapped back up, wide as dinner plates. He looked between his father and scary Old Man Shysa. There was another pregnant pause. He could see that his father was less than amused with the way his teeth ground together. Keiran wanted to know. He already knew that their home wasn't exactly home. It was different. They were different. Others brought stories of worlds far beyond this. Where the ocean didn't end with the mighty drop of a cliff, then, that was all there was. He had heard of metal-machines that could fly through the stars. To new places. Why couldn't they make one? Why couldn't they go there? The sky was so close. "...You can tell me the truth. I can take it."
Duran turned his attention back on a piece of metal that had been stoking in embers for too long. It was probably ruined now. The familiar motion of forcing metal into a new shape eased a few of the angered lines from his face. Instead, he only seemed exhausted. For a moment he seemed almost young. Young for a father of a boy that would be a man soon enough. Young for a metallurgist of tenure. Young, for a man with so many lines engraved around his eyes. "Listen, Son—"
"Paw. Please."
He hesitated. Callused fingers wrapped around the leather handle of his hammer and he raised it with measured practice before hammering down a few times. None of it was in anger. Keiran would know his father well enough to realize that he was thinking about it. Often, he needed a moment. "Maybe you're right Alcyone..."
"I think he's right."
A feminine voice that chilled the marrow in his bones carried across the sweltering forge. It was enough to put the fire out. Duran forgot about his work and his eyes fell on the speaker. He hadn't even heard this newcomer arrive let alone anticipated someone interrupting them. Dark eyes flickered toward Alcyone who seemed to have stiffened. His jaw was set tight and he looked dead ahead. As if he dared not look down at the woman who stood rather harmlessly beside him. There was something about her that made him want to give her his full attention. A tickle at the back of his neck started to bother him and it felt more than familiar. It took him a moment to place it. Power. At first, he hadn't noticed—Now she reeked of it. He swallowed hard. A Preserver?
She smiled from beneath a ratty, dark maroon hood, and his heart felt as if to stop.
No. Not a Preserver. Ephor.
It had to be.
"I—", Duran started, but found himself unable to finish. Stunned. "I meant no offense, ma'am. We meant no offense."
The woman released a small noise from her tongue clicking against her teeth and a lilting laugh would roll down his spine. It wasn't pleasant or unpleasant. All he could feel was fear. Absently, he reached out for his son and made a motion for the boy to get behind him. Keiran didn't seem to get it. As a boy, hard-headed, as they were, he was more intrigued by the mysterious visitor.
"Now now...There's no need for that. I think the child has a right to know."
Normally, Keiran would have politely argued. He was not a child and hadn't been one for a long time. Maybe her hood was obscuring her vision as well as half of her face. The woman in the worn cloak moved, though, he could scarcely follow it. She was fast. Keiran drew back when she reached for his hand but almost found himself reaching toward her in the end. It was a strange feeling. Magnetic and puzzling. "Sit with me."
Silently, Keiran obeyed.
The pair took a seat at the selling counter and he couldn't help but marvel at how strange she seemed. Dressed in threadbare, tatty fabric, but not a piece of her skin was marred or dirty. Her nails almost seemed to shine. Not like his. Covered in dirt that was caked beneath the edges and buried into his cuticles. He almost wanted to apologize for it. Should he? The young man tried to find some sort of expression in her, something that would tell him what to do, but she was an enigma. Finally, he remembered his manners. "Hello. I'm Keiran. Keiran Vel."
Now she didn't have to call him a child anymore.
She laughed again and the sound almost seemed delighted by the candid nature of his responses. "You, Keiran, may call me Gemma.", she responded, though, her expression firmed a moment later. The pale creature turned his hand over in her own and seemed to be looking for something. Whatever it was—She didn't find it. He was pure. Not like half of the tainted pieces of river-trash that seemed to float into their grasp. "You were born in Diavolin. You belong to it as much as it belongs to you...That is why knowledge will be granted. Be still, my new friend, and I will tell you the tale that your progenitor feels you are unworthy to hear."
He bristled at being called unworthy. But, held his tongue. Not because he wanted to. It was because SHE asked.
Gemma smiled. What an obedient, child.
"You're in Hell."
He didn't react at first and she could feel him trying to process the simple statement. His lips moved but nothing came out. Not so much as a squeak. The woman continued to look at his hand and once the shock started to fade, followed by disbelief, she raised a single finger to shush him. "You are in Hell. Accept it. Once you do - The rest is easier to swallow."
Keiran looked to his father and then back to the woman. Hell?! How could that be possible?
"It is possible because all things are possible."
"I don't understand.", finally, he blurted it out. Had she read his mind? Speaking felt so very, very hard. It almost hurt to do so. As if he had to obey. Had to listen to everything she said no matter how small. His eyes raised and his head tilted while he tried to see beneath the old hood she wore. Nothing. All he could see was the bottom half of her face, a pointed chin, and all-too-pleased curving lips. "I really...Really don't understand, Ms. Gemma."
"A very, very long time ago we all lived in a different place. A different world. We were free to move from planet to planet as we pleased. Something went terribly wrong and we found ourselves in a new reality. It was not a patient, kind existence. It was a prison that held the sinners of the realm we left behind. Some of us burned in the fires. Some of us tried to take our own lives but found it to be out of our hands. There was no reprieve. Simply, duty. The toils of a torturer. The things I have done to enlighten and atone should never be spoken of aloud. I will spare you that detail, child.", Gemma breathed, deliberately referring to Keiran in the way he disliked. He was a child. He barely counted as a successful form of life when compared to her years of servitude to this gilded cage of forgotten horror. "There was a revolt."
"It cracked the molten skies. Cracked the rotten soil, broke the rock, and dissolved that which bound us to our fate. It left us with Diavolin as she is today. Shattered pieces held together by the will of the Ephor alone. My brethren and I took the sad souls that we could and squirreled them away here, in this place, and let the monsters fade into the background. Our shores still fill with the unworthy, with the broken, and the lost. We take them in."
Diavolin was born on the backs of a prison colony in the deepest depths of despair. It was perhaps one of the last bastions before a traveler might find themselves lost in the chaos. Where once upon a time they only trafficked in spirits, now, the living poured in as well. The living dead, exiles, creatures, and all manner of beast and sentient. Gemma remained silent for a moment while she finally found what she was looking for. The marker. He would be more than his bloodline ought to allow. One day, he would come into his own. A little Preserver having just hatched from his shell. Barely walking. Barely speaking, and yet, he already knew his purpose. "We are not what we once were, however, Diavolin still obeys the core tenants. The tall stone edifices that you see near Cinder Valley were vessels used to extract negative energy from wicked souls to feed the Dark. It was a painstaking process. Exceedingly painful and increasingly dull. You can see why I tired of it..."
"This is still a prison. We are still your jailers. These are the reasons you do not wander at night. You are trapped in part of Hell because your parents, somehow, were naughty enough that they were sentenced here. You should thank them."
The woman paused, almost thoughtful, as she recalled the fate of his mother. Gemma never forgot anyone that earned their wrath.
"Or one of them. We erased the other."
Keiran froze. He could feel his face grow hot while his chest burned. Suddenly, he didn't want to know anymore. He wanted to stand up and snatch his hand away from the cloaked figure but found that he could not. He could no more move away from her than he could scream or shout. She had told him to be still. Something deep within told him that this was the right course of action. He was wrongly comforted by it. It stated that there was no other way. Instead, he glared. Eyes as clear as winter skies filled her up with as many daggers as he could. How dare she speak of his mother so callously? As if her life had been worth nothing? As if they were all, nothing? Just pieces to be moved in a long game of chess.
"Hush now. I can hear you. Your eyes are so cruel, child.", Gemma intoned after a moment of watching him war with his emotions. Fury at the mention of the loss of his mother. Disbelief at their situation. It seemed that his father hadn't told him the truth. That she had been removed and returned to the Force for her transgressions. Duran had told his son that his wife had gone away. Not, that she was dead. Gone. Forever. "You are as you are. I am as I am."
"Your mother did what none may do. She tried to leave, unsanctioned. That is death. True, death.", she informed, easily, as if she was reading a passage from a book. A story of far pretend people that had no bearing on this conversation. Still. Gemma did have some compassion. She understood the want to see the galaxy that was buried beneath the hurricane of uncertainty and pain. It was almost too much for him to bear. "Come now. I will make it up to you...I cannot release you...Nor can I return your mother to you..."
"But, Perhaps—I can invite the real world in."
A delicate offering. Gemma was an Ephor of her word. Invite them, she would.
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