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http://a-facility-ooc.dreamwidth.org/tag/!applications
This post is now frozen. Thanks!
Folken was the eldest son and thus Heir to the throne. He was a dutiful boy, playing happily with his younger brother, training to be a worthy successor, so that Fanelia would flourish. This came to an end when Folken set out to complete the Rite of Dragonslaying and prove himself a man worthy to lead. He couldn't bring himself to kill the dragon and this mercy cost him his right arm, his family and his country.
Folken fainted from the blood loss and woke up in a strange, brightly lit room, surrounded by Sorcerers, with the voice of the Emperor of Zaibach telling him that he was destined to come there. His right arm had been replaced with a horrific metal limb.
Flash forward ten years and Folken is now the Strategos of Zaibach, a multifaceted role that involves, among other things, designing weapons, directing the war, coercing allied nations to do what Zaibach wants and acting as chief advisor to the Emperor.
Though Folken truly believes that the Emperor's vision of establishing world peace is noble, the methods used gradually begin to seem more wrong. After the death of his two cat-girl wards, he leaves Zaibach, joining the other side in order to atone for his wrongdoings. At this point he is already dying from a reaction of Fate caused by his meddlings with destiny. This can be starkly seen by the fact that his beautiful white wings have turned pitch black.
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Folken had never truly thought he'd miss the dim, blue gas lights favoured by Zaibach.
He had grown up in Fanelia, a technologically simple land where the main sources of light were the solar bodies and candlelight (beeswax, an advantage of growing up the heir in the royal household). In contrast, the lights of Zaibach had been so cold and uncaring, washing out the colour of everything to a sickly, pale glow.
His father would warn him as a child that he would ruin his eyesight reading so long by candle flame. How could a man be a warrior with lenses perched on the end of his nose? Folken would always launch into a passionate defence of his current reading material, relatively rare and precious compared to what was available in other lands, eloquently trying to convince his father, the King, that he simply couldn't just stop in the middle.
His mother would smile silently through these exchanges. A Draconian woman, one of the supposedly cursed race. She knew in her soul that her blood ran strong enough in her son that he would never have to worry about such frailties as dimming vision. A gift, borne straight from the blood of Atlantis.
Or perhaps, Folken pondered in his darker moments, that sturdiness was a curse. To survive what would kill everyone else? What does that get you, but an eternity of loneliness after you bury the bodies of your comrades. Had any of his ancestors lost their limbs during the Rite of Dragonslaying, as he had, they would have bled to death on the forest floor in minutes. Instead, here he was, an exile, a deformed being, rejected by the homeland he loved, rejecting the Empire that took him in.
Exile.
Sitting in the starkly lit facility, the strange tubes buzzing almost inaudibly over his head his lack of place in Gaia was brought into an uncomfortably sharp focus. Just as it seemed that the sentient races would never escape their destiny of war, so Folken would never escape the mistakes of his past. All he could do was try to mend it all, with his young, betrayed brother, with the countries he'd defeated or bullied into submission, with the very Fates he'd so arrogantly tried to manipulate.
For now, his brother hated him, as was his right. The alliance of countries against Zaibach tolerated him as long as he had knowledge and a use. He could not blame them for that. And fate had rebounded on him, dying his feathers black as death, a warning of what lay in wait for him.
He could only hope he managed to repair most of the cracks before his fate claimed him.
Roleplay Sample - Journal:
This situation is... discomforting. I have studied technology extensively, both the cutting edge from all countries in Zaibach's knowledge and that of the ancients, but what I see in this facility is completely foreign to my understanding.
If my kidnapper is reading this, and I assume that he or she most likely would be, I ask if they could, at the very least, inform me of where I am and why I've been detained. I am willing to discuss whatever it is you wish to gain from me and come to a mutually beneficial compromise.
Are there any doors or windows to the outside that can be opened? I feel a pressing need for a stroll.
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Folken has no weapons. The claws on his prosthetic arm have been dulled down so that they cannot be used as a deadly weapon, and the needle has been removed. Accelerated healing/above average sturdiness is down by 50%. He can keep his wings. Hint: Guidelines for modifying things are in the FAQ. General guidelines on abilities are here.
There are a couple of things you need to do before you can begin to play:
Set up your character's journal. Guidelines are here. Once your journal is ready, please reply to this comment to let us know it's set up.
Reply to your reservation here and let us know that we can remove it.
Add your character to the taken character post here.
Join a_facility, a_facility_log, and a_facility_ooc. The comms are moderated, so you'll have to be approved. Mods are on duty for the rush on Fridays, so it shouldn't take long.
Check here to see where your room is.
Introduce yourself! Post an introduction on a_facility_ooc and meet some of your fellow players.
After you've done all of that, you're ready to play. Game starts Feb 1, 2009. Feel free to socialize and plot OOC until then. Have fun!
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