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It is said that the land is the innards of a great dragon, the first of dragons, the first of all. The Primeval. The air is said to be his breath, blood the whorl sea and his hollow from which he rent his guts the sky.
Dragon Hollow, watch over us.
You, child of Harthunter believe this too.
Indeed all the advances of magic, the tools of magitech point towards earth being divine flesh, water divine blood and wind being divine breath.
But all the knowing of the Magi cannot make certain the other belief of the knightly Harthunter clan.
The First Dragon rent his flesh that we all might have a home, that he loves us.
Such cannot be made sure by crystal ball or magitech. Thus do men hope and despair of love.
But this is not a tale of such terrifying love, not in full. A lesser love, though still important. Significant.
Of man and woman.
You, child of Harthunter have come of age. Since you were able to stand, you were nurtured, sculpted for this day. After this initiation, you will go out a man seeking wife or wives, bring her or them back and have many, many children.
In boiling emerald manapool you stand firm. Some of the essence is supplied by the clan, but much of the more common reagents you hunted and mined yourself as part of your training. Thick metal tubes connect to your body from the ceiling, this will be the final engraving of nanorunes into your bloodstream.
All this so you can bear the armour of a knight.
The Harthunter clan uses a fusion of the traditions of the wilds and magitech, but still they cannot lessen the agony of a body being forged like a lump of metal.
Before you, a black mirror flickers to life. An eye like a heart. The artificial genie of the clan, designation; AMOUR.
"Conditions stable, mana levels rising and runes reaching the threshold. Beginning stage two, gaess enhancement, your destiny calls, confirm your knightly name"
You had a name since birth, called by your mothers and father. Known by your siblings, but today that will pass.
>What is the name of our knight?
(Names like Romeo and Tristan are nice, if a bit ill fated)
A surge of agony and clarity, as the new takes the place of old.
"Supplantation of destiny succeeded, graft of name successful. Speak, what Divine do you worship?"
(This will shape your code of honour)
>Primeval, Dragon Hollow
(The whole can be exalted, or an aspect revered, even should you not choose Dragon Hollow, you will be considered his faithful, a direct devotee of the Emptied Monarch is considered a oddity and frequently a source of fear)
Guts the Land
Blood the Sea
Breath the Air
Hollow the Sky
The Octodoxy
The Feeling
>Beauty Beast
Patron of Beauty, the Lord of Arts. He of gleaming locks. Heavenly Hounder.
>Lady Lakes
The gift giver, the Lady of Vows. She of red wave hair. Sacred Slayer
>Laughter
Patron of Joy, the Lady of Revels. She of twinkling eyes. Holy Haunter.
>Bellows
The harrying herald, the Lord of Noise. He of drumcry yell. Sanctified Silencer.
1/?
Dragon Hollow, watch over us.
You, child of Harthunter believe this too.
Indeed all the advances of magic, the tools of magitech point towards earth being divine flesh, water divine blood and wind being divine breath.
But all the knowing of the Magi cannot make certain the other belief of the knightly Harthunter clan.
The First Dragon rent his flesh that we all might have a home, that he loves us.
Such cannot be made sure by crystal ball or magitech. Thus do men hope and despair of love.
But this is not a tale of such terrifying love, not in full. A lesser love, though still important. Significant.
Of man and woman.
You, child of Harthunter have come of age. Since you were able to stand, you were nurtured, sculpted for this day. After this initiation, you will go out a man seeking wife or wives, bring her or them back and have many, many children.
In boiling emerald manapool you stand firm. Some of the essence is supplied by the clan, but much of the more common reagents you hunted and mined yourself as part of your training. Thick metal tubes connect to your body from the ceiling, this will be the final engraving of nanorunes into your bloodstream.
All this so you can bear the armour of a knight.
The Harthunter clan uses a fusion of the traditions of the wilds and magitech, but still they cannot lessen the agony of a body being forged like a lump of metal.
Before you, a black mirror flickers to life. An eye like a heart. The artificial genie of the clan, designation; AMOUR.
"Conditions stable, mana levels rising and runes reaching the threshold. Beginning stage two, gaess enhancement, your destiny calls, confirm your knightly name"
You had a name since birth, called by your mothers and father. Known by your siblings, but today that will pass.
>What is the name of our knight?
(Names like Romeo and Tristan are nice, if a bit ill fated)
A surge of agony and clarity, as the new takes the place of old.
"Supplantation of destiny succeeded, graft of name successful. Speak, what Divine do you worship?"
(This will shape your code of honour)
>Primeval, Dragon Hollow
(The whole can be exalted, or an aspect revered, even should you not choose Dragon Hollow, you will be considered his faithful, a direct devotee of the Emptied Monarch is considered a oddity and frequently a source of fear)
Guts the Land
Blood the Sea
Breath the Air
Hollow the Sky
The Octodoxy
The Feeling
>Beauty Beast
Patron of Beauty, the Lord of Arts. He of gleaming locks. Heavenly Hounder.
>Lady Lakes
The gift giver, the Lady of Vows. She of red wave hair. Sacred Slayer
>Laughter
Patron of Joy, the Lady of Revels. She of twinkling eyes. Holy Haunter.
>Bellows
The harrying herald, the Lord of Noise. He of drumcry yell. Sanctified Silencer.
1/?
