The Rules:
1. For now, 3 main characters per person to stop anything becoming too convoluted. That's not to say you have to have 3, but that this is a maximum.
2. Characters portraying a faith different from your own must be done respectfully and carefully. Religious conflicts and various insults lobbed at other religious folks must be clearly understood as being part of this fiction and not the actual views of the writer, but keeping appreciation for the time period and how people spoke casually, so a Christian calling a Pagan a 'damn idol worshipper' would be alright because it has a context.
3. Characters must have limits in strengths and powers. This is classed as 'very low fantasy' so keeping things as normative as possible with light magic is favoured.
4. Please stick as closely to the era (vaguely 7th century) as possible, but license for gaps in knowledge etc. is allowed, and nitpicks about history should be kept to a minimum unless it's a glaring error.
5. Be creative; set the scene, take your time. Have fun
Anyone can join.
START.
The only thing remotely standing, burned and broken as it had been, was an old temple - after all the fighting, no-one knew to which group exactly it belonged. It was domed and colourful but empty, while a stench yet emanated from within. Smoke, wet earth and other, unidentifiable smells hovered around the building as the sun began to rise upon it, the silver dome reflecting rays necessitating hand to brow raising. Whoever had sacked this temple and whoever owned it were long gone - temporarily or permanently - and it now dominated the destruction like a last sign of hope. As yet, the land about it was deserted, the waking still being at prayer, now surrounded with ash and debris.
Bashar Ibn Sharif looked up. No shots had been fired today from any direction. The holy house had been ransacked, the belligerents chased away, and now the swords and stones had fallen silent. Unafraid, Bashar led himself into the ruin through an empty doorhole, expecting only more vacancy. Instead, he saw someone at the far end by a stone table. Raising his head and narrowing his brows in confusion, he stared at the figure, saying only,
"What now?"
1. For now, 3 main characters per person to stop anything becoming too convoluted. That's not to say you have to have 3, but that this is a maximum.
2. Characters portraying a faith different from your own must be done respectfully and carefully. Religious conflicts and various insults lobbed at other religious folks must be clearly understood as being part of this fiction and not the actual views of the writer, but keeping appreciation for the time period and how people spoke casually, so a Christian calling a Pagan a 'damn idol worshipper' would be alright because it has a context.
3. Characters must have limits in strengths and powers. This is classed as 'very low fantasy' so keeping things as normative as possible with light magic is favoured.
4. Please stick as closely to the era (vaguely 7th century) as possible, but license for gaps in knowledge etc. is allowed, and nitpicks about history should be kept to a minimum unless it's a glaring error.
5. Be creative; set the scene, take your time. Have fun
Anyone can join.
START.
The only thing remotely standing, burned and broken as it had been, was an old temple - after all the fighting, no-one knew to which group exactly it belonged. It was domed and colourful but empty, while a stench yet emanated from within. Smoke, wet earth and other, unidentifiable smells hovered around the building as the sun began to rise upon it, the silver dome reflecting rays necessitating hand to brow raising. Whoever had sacked this temple and whoever owned it were long gone - temporarily or permanently - and it now dominated the destruction like a last sign of hope. As yet, the land about it was deserted, the waking still being at prayer, now surrounded with ash and debris.
Bashar Ibn Sharif looked up. No shots had been fired today from any direction. The holy house had been ransacked, the belligerents chased away, and now the swords and stones had fallen silent. Unafraid, Bashar led himself into the ruin through an empty doorhole, expecting only more vacancy. Instead, he saw someone at the far end by a stone table. Raising his head and narrowing his brows in confusion, he stared at the figure, saying only,
"What now?"
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