Roleplayer Guild - Forum Roleplaying Games

Alright, all approved character profiles shall go here, as well as all OOC chatter.

Aerandir's Profile:

Application

Name: Verick Hanner

Age: 17

Description: Verick Stands at 5'9 with 160 Lbs of toned muscle. His bright emerald eyes are a huge contrast with his messy dark brown hair that hangs just at his eye line. He has a stubble of a beard that never seems to grow. Scars, large and small could be found all over his body, as if someone took a paint brush, and flicked the scars over it over him, showing how hard his life was before coming an apprentice.

Usually wears a weathered old Leather (lack of a better word) cowboy hat that goes almost perfectly with his also weathered brown trench coat. He usually wears dark colored clothes, which blends well with his personallity. (No he isn't emo)

Personality/History: Verick isn't the one to talk much. Is almost always seen with a cigarette in his mouth, lit or not. Usually keeps to himself but somehow managed to be popular among kids his age. But he doesn't use it for his gain as some kids would. The few who know him well know he isn't the one to start a fight. He would rather it end with out conflict.

He takes pride in his ability with his old leather Sling, but cannot wait for a trusty Revolver.

Weapon: Old Fashion Leather Slingshot. (Like David and Goliath.)

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Name: Gawain Rhavan

Age: 16

Description: Slender, with a build more for athletics such as running than lifting, Gawain stands at about 6'0 which is slightly tall for his age. He has deep obsidian hair that comes down just past his ears, with deep brown eyes that are almost black, with a small swirl of blue in them; barely noticeable unless one would be right up close to see them. Gawain is roughly 150 lbs, most of which is due to his heighth and body type. His clothing consists of a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, loose blue jeans with extra pockets on the side sewn in (Almost like cargo pants) and two criss-crossed belts, a black duster is sometimes worn over this, but in most cases it is stored in a saddle roll with his other materials. Gawain wears leather gloves on most occasions, sewn with leather strings to loosen or tighten at his will, the fingers on these long ago cut off to provide a better grip on his weapon of choice. Gawain wears thick leather boots, and on his side always carries a pouch for tobacco, a great thing to carry when on the road. As far as scars go, he has a few across his back from the strikes of their teacher Galahad, a hardened veteran who has passed many gunslingers, and as many if not more exiled.

Personality/History: Gawain grew up to a loving mother, and a hardened gunslinger for a father. His father carried the heavy guns that were passed down from his father, and so on and so forth. He was raised disciplined, but his mother always treated him with compassion along with this, helping to maintain the carefree spirit that he carried along past his adolescence. Gawain can be very serious, but of all things he has an amazing sense humor, which sometimes gets him in trouble; especially when dealing with Galahad, who has been known for having a short temper. He can find optimism in most things very easily, but just as any apprentice gunslinger, he is trained to kill, and when that time comes, all of the discipline of both his teacher and of his father kicks in, seemingly making him a different person altogether.

Weapon: Gawain is proficient in two weapons, a large dagger that he carries on his left side, as well as a bow. He has amazing speed at drawing and releasing arrows, and excels past the rest of his class on the Quick Draw, but is not as fast in the respects of hand-to-hand combat, something that he hopes to overcome.

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Name: Raytsel "Ray" Guercio(Ger-shee-oh)

Age: 17

Description:Raytsel is around 6'1 some could go as far to call him lanky, but he has a bit of a muscular build though not a body builder of any sorts. With his piercing blue eyes and messy somewhat ruffled dark brown hair making him somewhat good looking though most women don't pay him much mind, and he always has a serious look on his face, but that doesn't mean he's prone to grinning every once in a while. His clothing attire includes a pair of loose brown pants with a pair of black boots with a long sleeve loose grey shirt. Over all this he wears a large brown tattered poncho that falls over his arms and almost down to his feet.

Personality/History: Raytsel has always lived a decent live being raised by his father as his mother died when he was at a very young age and was raised most of his life learning the ways of a gunslinger. Ray is a pessimist, though he prefers thinking himself as more of a realist, is known for having a very dry sense of humor and likes keeping to himself, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a loner as many times he'll find himself forced to get to know someone anyways. He's a really strange guy sometimes and is prone to be lazier than anything, but when it comes down to it and a job needs to be done he'll be the one to get it taken care of.

Weapon: Ray's main weapon is a rather strange one, a very large boomerang the size of a shorts word. Its obsidian black metal all over and has a sharp edge that can cut through just about anything except harder metal. At one end of the weapon the edge stops but keeps the overall shape of the boomerang, this part of the weapon has a bit of black tape wrapped around it for grip, and it has a little point just under that to keep the shape and aerodynamics.

Name: Jericho "Wolf" Mendaile

Age: 17

Description: Jericho stands a looming 6'4", his fathers before him being quite tall too. He weighs 170 pounds of lean muscle and is toned to the point you can tell he almost does nothing but make his body better in one way or another. His hair is silver, almost white if it wasn't for the almost shinny sheen which runs through it. His hair also has small traces of black hair though this is under the mop of silver hair, making it almost unnoticeable if you weren't facing him directly. His eyes are an almost icy blue, surrounded by dark rings of black which make his eyes stand out against the white of his eyes. He has a tattoo on the right side of his body, and another on his left pectoral. He normally wears a pair of black pants which have moderate sized cargo pockets around his knees. There are also two smaller pockets around his calves with silver zippers on them, the pants have a few worn spots in them here and there. As for a shirt, he wears a fairly loose fitting white shirt, and underneath that, a tight black shirt which is made of an odd material. His boots have been modified as to take a lot of the weight off of them, making them a little bit easier to run and do various other acts with. He has a ring on either ring finger, just a simple silver band.

Personality/History: Jericho is a very shy person, normally not really talking to anyone except for his close friends. Throughout his entire life, he has been secluded from society and seen as an odd one, not only because of his looks, but because of his lack of communication with others. With this, there are a lot of bottled up emotions inside him, though he uses this to his advantage. Ever since he was a child he has been brought up the hard route in life, and this has made him a stronger person in the long run. Many people would break mentally before he would, after seeing so many things as he has... it's not very unbelievable. With the blood which has passed through his eyes, when it comes to killing another, he's remorseless, thus, earning him the nickname Wolf. On another note, he has also gained this name through his agility, speed, and stealth. He's a force to be reckoned with if ever taken on one on one. His mentor is the biggest and best influence in his life. Though he knows one day they'll be in lock down in a fight. His respect for the man pars far beyond the highest mountain peak; he'd jump off a cliff if he told him to, even though it is quite stupid. When he was 12, he lost both of his parents and was left on his own, as a result he lives on his own, continuing his training well on into the night. He does have another side from his quiet and more silent persona though... This being a little bit more wild. Around his closer friends, he is the "party dynamite" of the group at times. He can be a very humorous person, getting this from his father, though it's difficult to drag it out of his mind.

Weapon: Jericho has an old bowie knife which his father found when he was only 7. The knife has a hilt made out of a antlered animals antler, the blade being made by a Damascus technique. As for a ranged weapon, he has a re-curve bow which is a little above average in size. The wood is a Burgundy color due to ware and tare; the string black and brand new. He wears a belt around his waist which holds his sword on its right side, and his hip quiver on his left.

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Name: Alan Twede

Age: 19

Description: A bit on the short side, he is only about 1.7 meters tall. He is also fairly lean being 56kg. He has boyish good looks, eyes of bright gold and short white-blonde hair that he keeps cut above the ears. All in all he has an angelic quality that he does his best to play down, dressing in scruffy cloths, mostly black with a brown battered duster and a wide brimmed Puritan hat. He tried to grow a beard once but was barely able to fill in the mustache and so keeps his face clean shaven.

Personality/History: Along with his appearance, Warren is particularly embarrassed about his past. He did not come from a rough and tumble outpost in the middle of nowhere. Neither is he the exiled son of a nobleman forced to make his way in the harsh world outside. He's just the average son of the average priest turned tavern keep. His childhood was relatively idyllic, or as it can be in the world today. He spent his days helping his father run and maintain their inn, spending time with his sickly and oft bedridden mother, or trying to look out for his little sister. He was always a shy boy, never had many friends, and more often than not he would spend his free time hiding in one of his many secret spots reading whatever book he could get his hands on. His father always said he was too smart for his small town, 'silver in soot' as he like to put it. One day a group of travelers came to town as they often did. Two men in particular. They moved with predatory certainty, and each carried an untarnished six-shooter of master craftsmanship. Everyone else saw them and though only murder, but Alan saw them and thought only myth. These were the men he'd read about. Men of duty. Men of honor. Men of purpose. Apparently they were to have a duel the next day, but for the night they sat together, drinking in perfect silent.

The street outside the tavern was vacant the following morning, the whole town suddenly finding it had other things to do as the men stood at opposite ends of the street. Alan watched with wide-eyed wonder as the long shadows of the rising sun slashed across the dusty ground. Both men stood stock still, their face expressionless masks. It took an instant, both men drew their pistols. Just a split second in time, and it was over. One man lay dead, and the other turned to leave without another word. His family still in hiding at the back of garden Alan grabbed his crucifix, his coat, and some cornbread off the counter, racing out the door and after the rapidly vanishing gunslinger. It was a stupid, whimsical decision he made that day, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Today Alan continues his training under the man he meet that day, working with youthful exuberance and passion to become the best gunslinger he can be. Though he is still a bit unblooded and naive, he possesses a level of skill and determination that would conquer most men. Always one to underestimate his own talents he remains the polite,

Weapon: Yet to earn his own gun he dedicates himself to becoming a marksman with the collection of knives he's gathered over his travels. Each one is a straight blade made from sterling silver that he habitually blackens with soot both to better conceal them and to honor the father he left behind. He learned the art of throwing them from years of practice on the apple trees that grow behind his families tavern, becoming so skilled he could cut an apple down by the stem from across the garden. His speed and skill have protected him from the threats he's faced thus far, but he feels he still has a great deal to room to improve.

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Name: Raven Fife

Age: 14

Description: Raven has long fire-red hair which is kept pulled back loosely, eyes a vibrant sea-green/grey/blue, skin a light brown from working outdoors. Large-boned but small-framed, Raven tends to look gawky and awkward, but is, perhaps, more coordinated than appearances suggest.

Personality/History: Raven is a low-class member of society, and keeps himself to himself. More information is pending.

Weapon: Raven has not yet settled on any particular weapon, but is in favor of close-combat daggers that double as throwing knives.

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Thanks, I'll be fixing her for later chapters then...

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And they say a hero can save us, I'm not going to stand here and wait.
I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles, watch as we all fly away...

Denied, I mentioned in IC that you needed to PM me first. Also, we're experiencing lag majorly. In later chapters I'd love to have you, but you need some work on your weapons. 9mm don't exist.

But don't get me wrong, I would sincerely love you to join in later chapters. We're facing a bad Male to Female ratio.

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Okay, everything is taking far too long. I'm going to go ahead and close this thread, and reorganize it into a private RP.

Sorry for any problems this has caused anyone.

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