The History

Phillip Pullman brought us a wonderful alternate world that is so very like our own. These humans, much like ourselves, have only one obvious difference: although they have a soul, it does not technically reside inside their bodies. Instead, their soul takes the form of an animal (a dæmon) and walks beside them wherever they go. It can be anything from a mouse to a triceratops. There is a link between these two; if one gets pain inflicted upon them, then their counterpart feels the same amount of pain. If a human dies, its dæmon dies as well. If a dæmon dies, however, its human counterpart does not perish with it.

Based slightly on His Dark Materials, Of Dust and Ashes follows the rules set down in the books. However, its plotline is not linked to our story. Our story merely resides around the people and their dæmons, as well as the panserbjørne, or armored bears. You can play as whoever you would like, except the canon characters.




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The Story Thus Far

From ashes to ashes, and Dust to dust,
Men have given in to the power from lust.
And a government so strong
Didn't last very long.
And so it was overthrown
For a reason unknown.
This is not the end of the tale, no
For a deadly plague came with the snow.
And what should've been a lovely sight
Was absent of every light.
And hope was known no more,
Due to the cries, and blood, and gore.
And thus their hero did ascend
From the shadows to amend
This world from its darkest time
And he wouldn't even accept a dime.
Though he accepted no pay,
No one would have it that way.
Not even the Magisterium could deny
If he hadn't arisen, they would've all died.
And thus his name was known to all,
Hayden and his dæmon, Thangoral.
Had the Magisterium not been in the way,
He would've become the Pope that day.
To oversee them all,
But now he'd just come when called.
Though fifteen years have passed,
People are still left aghast.
At the very mention of the plague
Yet cheered at the cure that was made.
The old often cry of joy,
That they can see their little girl and boy,
Grow up to enhance mankind,
Because of some ingenious mind.

Enough of these humans and their flaws
And their pathetic, unorthodox laws
And speak of the panserbjørne,
Who have always fought till they're tattered and torn.
A king so mighty and so brave,
Some do think that he'll never fall into his grave.
Even the Tartars do fear them now,
Of their fierce growl and furrowed brow.
Dæmons so proud turn and go,
With their bonded, through the snow,
Back to lands where they call home,
Sheltered in a makeshift dome,
Held up by bones and other minuscule things,
Though they hold through the horrors the winter storms bring.

Fifteen years passed and our story begins,
Filled with faithless and heartless sins.
The Magisterium controls all,
Taking over everything large and small.
Education now is the most important thing,
Learning under the Master's wing.
At least it is for those who are noble,
Whose actions are controlled by those who're older.
As for the children, they loved to play,
Especially at night, moreso than day.
Along the river banks when low or high,
When the sun is glowing, or it dies.
Playing games from a time so old,
Standing tall, and so bold,
To protect their grounds they hold so dear,
Even through their games and fear.
Almost like small, harmless gangs,
They all love to go out with a bang.
And so they harass many at the horse fair,
Taking over boats, and yanking on hair.
Causing mischief and laughing loud,
Causing a ruckus within a crowd.

The Witches are no longer a myth,
Many have seen a fourth or fifth.
Though why they've surfaced, no one knows,
Flying high up with the crows.
Deadly, yes, but friendly too,
Or so some claim and point to the sky so blue.
Pretty and wise, they all are,
They give their aid when they are called.
But to who they give it, no one knows,
For the decide this on their own.
Should they be your enemy,
Simply just turn and flee.




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