Eolia is a pastoral land of hilly grasslands and flat forests with a beautiful lagoon on its southeastern coast. It is a fairly baseline and mundane land rich in mineral resources with only three oddities to speak of. The first is that most of its natural rock demonstrates unusually vibrant coloration; quartz hues as red as fresh blood and blue as the noon sky, and everything in-between. The second flavor of local strangeness is its unusually weak realm borders; Eolia penetrates into and transitions seamlessly to match its Myriad neighbors. The third are the cassimis, a race of magical doll-like servitors that appear to be the realm's true natives.

The realm is in a state of early- to mid-Industrial Revolution; early trains, automobiles, and mechanized fighting vehicles are quickly replacing animals in virtually every area. Research and innovation is driven by the exchange of ideas between the many drifting species that have over time settled the land. Iron and coal are lifted from the earth to fuel the industry, the colorful fieldstone and mining rubble used to create beautiful and resilient stone buildings adorned with arches and flying buttresses that glitter dazzlingly in the sun. The year-round temperate climate, abundant resources, and tireless devotion of the native doll girls makes for quite an attractive place to live.

Of course, so many species and realm connections in close proximity are not without their downsides. Eolia is subject to frequent intrusion, either in the same of capturing its resources or as a staging ground for launching invasions into its neighbors. The delicate unity of Eolia's natives is frequently shattered as conflicting loyalties arise, alliances shift, and the troublesome elements eventually expunged.


People: Cassimis

Eolia has seen many exotic people come and go, but the cassimis have always been. None of the outsider species know precisely where they come from, but the smart money is that the perennially friendly doll girls are manufactured in the vast, impenetrable, featureless white quartz dome at Eolia's center. Whenever a new person comes to Eolia with a genuine intent to make the realm their home, a cassimi perfectly tailored to their deepest wishes will eventually appear at their location as if by magic and introduce themselves.

Cassimis take on some of the traits of their partners, but always have a humanoid figure, ball joints, a youthful and flawless appearance perfectly tailored to their partner's tastes, and an endlessly devoted and selfless demeanor. They are usually a head shorter than their masters, though not always. Aside from their devotion cassimi personalities vary widely but in general they are upbeat, positive, extroverted, impulsive, and not exceptionally intelligent, though even these generalities are subject to what would best compliment their owner. All cassimis have a tattoo somewhere on their body, typically someplace private, which functions as a combination barcode and keyhole. They come with only two accessories: a set of sheer, frilly white clothing; and an elaborate winding key unique to them.

The winding key is the literal key to cassimi existence. While they need not eat, sleep, or even breathe, they do require sustenance in the form of emotional energy. By placing the key into a cassimi's tattoo and focusing on projecting their emotions through it, a cassimi's owner imprints their wishes and desires into the doll. The cassimi is completely defenseless during this time, both physically and mentally. If not sufficiently relaxed the key will be difficult and painful to the cassimi to turn, and the effects of the emotional linkage unpredictable. A cassimi always knows where their key is and the fastest way to reach it, even across multiple realms. A cassimi can be wound with almost any key but not using their personal key will slowly drive them insane. Due to how important their personal key is to their wellbeing, it is considered the highest possible expression of trust in cassimi culture to allow their owners the responsibility of protecting it.

Beyond simply sustaining them, cassimis are capable of using stored emotional energy to achieve a wide variety of magical effects. As a baseline a cassimi with any emotional reserve to speak of is almost impossible to harm by non-magical means. More exotic effects than this are dependent on what sort of emotions they have been imprinted with. Anger can manifest as destructive streams of magical fire, fear as terrifying illusions, or love as protective wards. Cassimi emotion magic is always most effective and efficient when it fulfills the needs and desires that caused the emotions imprinted on them during winding, and least effective when it goes against the same. At maximum power, a single cassimi is theoretically capable of taking out an entire infantry company with armored support and emerging tired but unscathed.

In truth, all creatures entering Eolia have a tiny piece of their soul excised in order to create a cassimi. This operation can only be done once; if one's personal cassimi is lost or destroyed it can never be replaced. Likewise, if a cassimi's owner is lost or killed, its close connection to that being's soul makes it incredibly difficult or even impossible for it to ever connect to another person again. Cassimis who have lost their master often commit suicide, either sacrificing themselves in a storm of desperate vengeance to give some final meaning to their master's life or else simply quietly disappearing. Rarely, however, a cassimi can regain a reason to live by adopting someone important to their former owner as their new master. These heirloom cassimis are often a little mentally unstable and their loyalty much less unconditional, but they make up for it with superior experience and power.

No one knows exactly how cassimis function, even the doll girls themselves. Their bodies are animated by emotional energy, but without it they appear for all the world to be inanimate ball-joined dolls, indistinguishable from any other. On occasion a cassima will be broken open by violence or accident and something brilliantly alight in rainbow hues is seen within near the cassima's keyhole tattoo, but it is always vanishes without a trace a second later. While none know it, this is the cassimi's symphonic drive; a ludicrously advanced linkage of mirrors and polished crystals that acts as both brain and power source, the keyhole tattoo above it serving as its I/O port.

Annabelle!

Annabelle, it's time to sleep.

I'll be gone for a long time . . .

Rest here.

I'll return, wearing a new face.

Time is a keyhole, and so easily wound . .

Remember to seek my eyes. Moss green.

Remember . . .



You dreamt, and in dreaming, woke . . .

Annabelle was dimly aware of the hustle and bustle of the cafe. She had her own special alcove, behind protective glass, where she could manage to sustain herself from the everyday emotions emanating from the busy and cheerfully maintained cafe.

The cafe employed three Cassimis, one original to the (century old) proprietor, one that had been inherited, and one that had been rescued. In a way, the Cafe served as one important way for Cassimis who had lost their masters to retain usefulness and be part of a family that provided the necessary emotion to keep them running.

You became aware, your symphonic drive whirring to life, for unknown reason.

You had enough emotional energy reserves to maintain your lifeforce for . .  three hours.

Ah. Critically low. Even in a place like this, the emotional energy you were able to siphon was only able to abate the eventual loss of your power supply, given your absent owner. Had you ever had an owner? You must have - you were a Cassimi, like any other . . .
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:33, Tue 23 Apr 2019.

Click! ... Click, click click, whirrrrrrrr...

Main control system rebooting.
Automatic system restoration activated.

Anabelle's eyes clicked softly as they flicked open, their unclouded blue skies taking in the sights around her for the first time in... whenever.

Hm? What happened? Last she recalled, she was... she was... mmmm, so sleepy... but she needed to remember, to do something to replenish her reserves. She must have been out of it for a long time. She needed to remember...

Establishing remote connection to master system.
Authenticating with private key.
Requesting backup memory files.

Think. Was there any reason why she was reactivated now? Or was it only because her standby process noted the critical status of her symphonic reserve?

Requesting master system status.
Requesting all major+critical system alerts.

Nothing for it... she needs to get up. Her synthetic skin tingles pleasantly as she sends her limited emotional stores through her body, the tips of her fingers and toes trembling to life. Her lucent aura flares into being, briefly glowing gold before fading to unobtrusive near-invisibility. Now animate, she brushes her fingers across the layers of white lace on her skirt and savors the electric sensation through the cottony material.

Enough. Time is ticking. Moving her hands from their demure position in her lap she reaches up to her neck, checking to confirm that her winding key is still safe under her dress. She spares a look about at her immediate surroundings to locate her rifle and sling it onto her back. Once she is ready to go she taps a sky-blue-painted nail several times on the glass separating her from the rest of the cafe.
This message was last updated by the player at 23:44, Wed 24 Apr 2019.

You reached for the key within the lace ruff on your neck . . and found nothing hidden there.

Your key was gone.

Like any other Cassimi, you knew exactly where your key was; it was in the cafe, very close by, but not within your alcove. Why was it not with you? It must have been taken while you slept.

After a moment - your body warming, some color returning to your cheeks - you pinpointed the location of your key - it was within sight, worn about the neck of a young man in dark clothes. Your key - worn so brazenly! - was sole accent of his outfit; everything else was flat black, except for his auburn hair.

On closer inspection - you had a keen eye for details - he was also wearing ten rings, each slightly different, but of them distinctively shaped like crowns, or maybe tiaras.

The proprietor stopped by his table, discussing something with him.

"It's not a matter of price," said the proprietor. "Cassimis are people. I cannot give her to you; if you're to have a companion doll, Eolia will ensure you find each other."

"She's mine." The young man said. "I know it."

"Lore," said the proprietor. "It's been ten years."

Lore played with the rings around his fingers, twisting them. "Yes. And I'm eighteen years old now. I'm old enough to have a Cassimi. I know she's mine. Ever since I laid eyes on her, in that glass . . . "

Lore's hair was worn long, bangs framing his face and from this side angle, hiding his eyes from you.

You tapped on the glass for attention, after securing your rifle - which was with you in the glass.

Nobody heard you.

Her key, missing? Worry. Fear! Clenching her chest where it ought to have been, Anabelle sends her senses beyond the glass. She finds it quickly; it is not far, but farther than she would have liked. Its bearer wore that private and essential part of her so shamelessly public, glittering silver against black. The power play over her was so obvious as to make her blush in embarrassment.

With difficulty she tore her eyes from the shimmering piece of her around his neck and took in the rest of the man's details. She did not feel that electric connection, the instinctive and irresistible need to be close and to touch him that would have characterized her soulbound master... that unconditional, all-consuming love... but he did look familiar, in a strange and curious way.

Listening as the two talked about her, she reasoned that the familiarity must be due to the man pining over her since he was a boy. That must be it. No? No, perhaps not. Thinking was... hard. So sleepy...

It didn't matter who he was. She needed someone to wind her. Someone, anyone, she needed them to notice she was awake, to lay their warm hands upon her soft synthetic form. Please, notice... notice me...

"Notice me."

The words were not loud, but impossible to ignore for they burst from the air between the two talking men. She hadn't meant to exert herself, but desperation was undermining her self-control.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:20, Fri 26 Apr 2019.

The proprietor startled, but the boy instinctively followed the instruction, as if he knew your voice. His eyes were -

Moss green.

- and his features were feminine, doll-like. He almost resembled a male Cassimi, if such a thing were possible.

He moved with cat-like grace to the glass, and took the key from his neck and pressed it to the glass.

He was silent, his eyes and the presented key both directed squarely at you.

Even from this distance, you could feel a rush of his emotions - craving, entitlement, frustration, yes, but also an arrogant, swaggering love fed by a sense of destiny.

There was more, as his eyes grew fiercer and more bestial - the pupils collapsing into slits, then opening wide - and a wave of raw conquering passion, a furious, nigh murderous intent - the kind of anger that drove ordinary men to strike another down in hot blood - shattered the glass as it radiated through the key in his hand, amplifying the key's natural attraction to you into a physical magnetism.

He offered you your key, as his features reverted to human. "You are mine, Anabelle of the Glass. My name is Loren Leander of the House of Bone." He bowed. "First Prince of Eolia, and Bearer of Ten Crowns. As a member of my household, you may address me freely by my sobriquet, Lore."

Moss green. The ineffable recognition intensifies as some ephemeral memory springs unbidden to mind, like the fading recollection of a dream. The prideful stranger looks and moves almost too perfectly to be real. Male cassimis were uncommon though far from unheard of, if Anabelle recalls correctly (admittedly a dubious prospect). She did not think this Lore was one, however. He was positively afire with emotion all his own as only a truesouled being could be, arrogant and radiant as the sun itself.

Anabelle cocked her head as Lore pressed her key to the glass. One hand moved from her lap towards it and grasped meekly at the air, heedless of the glass separating them.

What happened next was enough to penetrate her dozy state and make her flinch, if only slightly. Lore flashed invisibly with bright red aggression and her glass cage crumpled under such a raw outpouring of feeling. He was quite adept at channeling emotion, even if he needed her key as a focus. Curious. She also did not recognize his species, although that was not unusual considering Eolia's borders.

Anabelle takes her key back when it is offered, albeit with a moment's hesitation. He or someone must have taken her key from her while she slept, and if it was being handed back to her so freely now it made her wonder why it had ever been taken to begin with. Very strange. Once it is back in her hands the delicate silver chain is promptly placed about her neck and her most precious possession returned to rest in its proper place just over her bust.

Now feeling immensely more at lease, Anabelle regards Lore -- or rather, Loren Leander -- with naked curiosity. She knows not of this House of Bone and regards his princely title with due skepticism given Eolia's turbulent history, but he certainly seems distinguished. She has had worse owners before. In light of this and her inexplicable memories she has a single burning question that requires an immediate answer.

"You do not have a soulbound companion," Anabelle observed. She cocks her head inquisitively. "Why seek me? ... Why do you seem familiar?"
This message was last updated by the player at 03:01, Sun 05 May 2019.

"A soul is born bound in karmic chains, and a Cassismi is created from the imprint of those bindings," said Lore. "I was born not of my mortal father, but of my spiritual antecedent, the Viridian King, your soulbound owner," he said, and bowed to you.

"The Elevenfold path unfolded before in my memory on my eighth birthday. I knew of you then, Anabelle of the Glass, and that you would be mine, as you once were."

"It is written in my skin. The chains that bound you and the Viridian King were long worn, and I wear the marks of their absence," and he drew back the sleeves of his hooded tunic, revealing tattoos that traced faint lines of scars older than the body that bore them. The same feeling when you had seen his eyes struck you again.

Lore was some sort of spiritual being, that was apparent. Perhaps some kind of ghost.

"You will accompany me, Anabelle of the Glass. You will grant me access to the Dome, from whence all Cassimis are born, and I will take my throne there and rule Eolia. You will kneel peacefully at my feet, content and well-fed, the Doll of Majesty,"

All of this was spoken in hushed tones, but the scene was arresting still - the confidence in his stance, his focus completely on you, completely unaware of the attention of the patrons of the cafe. As if you were the only doll in the world . . .

He was exactly a head taller than you, perhaps a little more, and while slender, he had same impression of coiled violence wrapped in beauty belonging to all great serpents.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:27, Sun 05 May 2019.

Anabelle gave the occasional subtle nod of understanding at the appropriate points throughout Lore's explaination. Very curious! She did not know whether such a heritage were possible or even what it really meant but it seemed like it could be, and she did not sense any deceit or uncertainty from the man. Her soulbound owner was long, long in the past... could she even remember what that bond felt like? She did not know. Cassimis were not meant to outlive their original masters, let alone by so much.

Her eyes followed the scars across Lore's arms. She could not deny that he had a certain quality to him. That confidence, the intensity of his conviction, the gravity of his presence that so effortlessly bent her world to revolve around him, nothing else mattering... she tied to imagine sitting at his feet with a dozy smile and found the visual to come remarkably easy. Regardless the veracity of his claims he would make for a more than satisfactory master.

Ignoring the obviously absurd assertion that he would be permitted entry into the great dome of course, but Anabelle saw no need to contradict him.

It seemed a good time to stand, so she did. Petticoats rustled and stiletto heels clicked on the floor as she adjusted her balance. Her world spun slightly with the exertion but she did not do something so inelegant as wobble. Errr... okay, maybe a little wobble. Three hours' reserve on standby... perhaps half an hour now that she is active.

Anabelle looks up at Lore, her normally-static expression colored with apologetic desperation. I need you to wind me, now.