Reply With QuoteOh, alright then. That's fine. Never mind.Originally Posted by Musique
Sorry, I'm confused... Do you want me to make her a descendent of the shaman? Because she was born with the abilities, and was being taught how to use them.
Oh, alright then. That's fine. Never mind.
Cool! I'll make a CS!
Is...that what you meant? D:
I fixed it I think...
You can change it back if you want. I misinterpreted it.
Nevermind I decided against it.
Thanks for the quick reply!
As for my character:
Name: Henna
Age: Mid-twenties
Gender: Female
Appearance: Henna is a skinny, unwashed woman of average height. Her hair is black as coal and her eyes icy blue. Her posture is terrible; her hanging head and slumped shoulders make her look like some lazy, ill-mannered child. There is still something about her that seems to attract members of the opposite gender, but wether it is some kind of mysterious charm or the simple fact that she simply is a young woman remains unsaid. She is dressed in rags and carries with her a little home-made bag made of leather.
Personality: Anti-social but manipulative. Henna doesn't like to engage in other people more than necessary. She mostly see others as tools or entertainment. She is strongly addicted to her scryingglass, which has left marks on her personality but mainly on her mental health; Henna has begun developing schizophrenia and has problems with time-orientation.
History: Henna was born and raised in the gutters of the great city of Terrileg. Her life as a child and teenager was uneventful and degrading and would have continued to be so if it hadn't been for her magical glass. She first saw it in a merchants stall on market day a few years ago and instantly became transfixed by it. She waited for the right moment and stole it from right under the merchants nose when he was adressing another customer. Henna had never been in contact with magic before in her entire life, but using the glass orb came naturally for her. From that day on, Henna used her newfound treasure most every day for all sorts of purposes; entertainment, localizing resources, spying on rivals, etc. But with the power came an obsession and an addiction. Soon, she couldn't stand being without he glass for more than a week. Nowadays she needs to use it daily to keep the addiction at bay. She is still holed up in a small abandoned room in a condemned building in Terrileg but has recently been looking to get out of town.
Equipment: Dirty old rags, a rusty knife, a leather backpack with some neccesseties and her magical glass.
Starting Location: Terrileg
Misc.: Feedback would be nice. I'll add stuff if need be as we go along.
Less talking, more gaming!
Looks quite excellent, Huscarl. Accepted.
-Bump-
We don't want people to think the thread's inactive, do we?
Less talking, more gaming!
<rubs hands> Right, let's get crackin... hope I'm not being too presumptuous with my character history.
Name: Allister Brand
Age: 36 years old
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Personality: To describe Brand in one word, it would be resolute. In spite of a life of guerilla warfare, the man suffers little from physical or mental fatigue. He has always been a determined individual, perhaps the only personality trait has survived from the boy who once set out on his first ranging mission. He is unsuprisingly grim and not much of a people person, only practicing the art of conversation on his brief visits into the surviving settlements to trade or warn generals of impending attacks. Truth be told, the man has very little personality. For half his life, his only purpose has been to fight the enemies of the realm, and what humour he had left had been lost to him since he lost his last comrades, two years ago.
History: It's been 17 years since the 3rd Ranger Battallion, better known as The Reavers, were sent out from Rodmarsh to patrol the neighbouring woodlands and thin the ever-increasing numbers of the fell beasts. The hordes that attacked the city were growing bigger and more brazen and counter measures had to be put in place by Lord Steward Willem. The Reavers had set out fifty strong, but the dangerous, six-month mission had reduced them by half when they returned to find Rodmarsh had been razed to the ground. There was nothing left but rubble a few stone walls to mark the grave of the city it once had been. Five and twenty men lost their homes that day. Their families.
"Our lives are lost," Van Rauken had told them. Allister could remember it as if it were yesterday. "We are dead men. Ghosts. And we will haunt the forests of this land from now till the end of our days, drinking our unquenchable thirst for revenge."
The grizzled veteran led the Reavers back into the wilderness. He was captain for 6 years before he fell to a Foul One. One by one, their number dwindled, until only one remained. The green boy that bloodied himself for the first time on that ranging mission. 'Scrawny, square-headed Brand.'
He wasn't scrawny anymore, and the only bit about him that was green were the clothes on his back.
Equipment: He wears the greens of the 3rd Ranger Battalion, though they are more grey than green these days, stitched and re-stitched with green and brown patches where repairs have been required. He primarily uses his bow, but has a dirk strapped to his back for melee combat, which he named Rickon after his best friend, the night he died. He also has a hunting knife in his boot for even-closer-quarters fighting. On his belt he also carries a trusty survival pouch he calls his 'gunna,' which contains fishhooks, needle and thread, flint and steel, and all manner of other little tid-bits that help him live out in the wild.
Starting Location: Terrileg
Misc: The years may not have mentally fatigued Brand, but they have sent him a little insane. When he sharpens his dirk, Rickon, he often talks quietly to it... and even answers it's questions.
Last edited by xenon; 09-02-2012 at 02:04 PM. Reason: Fancied a change in Starting Location
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