the People of Holmishire

[Holmishire]

This thing is under perpetual construction, and is always waaay outdated. So yeah.

Hello, all.

Though once this was a storage area for my character sheets, it shall now be something much more. Yes, it still has all my character sheets, but I plan to add most everything else I feel like adding to this.

As it progresses, more and more things may pop up, and people may actually look at it. If you are one of those people, I ask that you never, ever use any of it for your own gain. If you want something, want to use something, or splice something I created, feel free to ask. Because if something of mine is ever stolen… I'll be really disappointed.

By the way, don't post in here, at all, please. It is for my use only, and any questions or anything else you want to say can go in a private or visitor message.

[Holmishire]

(Needs updating, and possibly reorganization.)

All my character sheets will end up in this post, kindly organized for whoever comes by to look at them.

Random individuals.

Summer Break (90928)

Spoiler

Name: Keri Dubois

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Appearance:


Personality: A somewhat withdrawn character, she portrays many symptoms of the antisocial; nervous around decisions, often has not-so-common habits, follows other individuals around. To her, reading is like food; it is a necessary thing, but brings no particular emotion from its consumption. She has a reasonable intelligence, but it is often hid behind her uncertainty.
When particularly happy, however, she can be bright and cheerful, fitting in well to conversation.

Brief History: She lives a normal life with supportive parents; her father is a mailman and low-calibre author, her mother works at as a secretary for a highly important bank official that has no actual use [official, not mother] in the company. She lacks siblings, and rarely leaves the house.

Other: She speaks French, has trained stalking skills and packed a bunch of books.

the Amityville Horror—Forsaken Residents (91351)

Spoiler

Name: Amanda 'Amy' Ansbro

Age: 14

Gender: Female

Who are you?: Cousin (direct lineage undecided)

Which room are you in?: The closet. Cassandra's room, maybe? (evil laughter) —Open to movement.

Brief personality: She mostly does as she's told, and enjoys bugging people in an unappearing way. Can be sulky at times.

Your opinion on moving into the house: Never really caring about the 'paranormal' type of thing, she only saw it as a forced visit to some family.

Worst fear: The scratching and cutting (former more than latter) of either wrists, neck, or ankles (in decreasing order).

Most prized possession: A small necklace made from rough twine, bearing a small statuette of a centaur archer hanging from it. The statuette is of unknown make, though it appears similar to fool's gold.

Appearance: A bit younger than this, or something. Clothing irrelevant. (Note: picture not mine. Please don't sue me.)

Name: Nissa Praecantrix

Age: 15 year old girl.

Origin: A small farming village by the name of Viculus. It is surrounded on all sides by fields, excluding West, which is a dense forest. West north-west of said forest is a larger town, Amnensis, which is blindsided by a shallow river.

Appearance: She is slight and thin, though healthy. She has nimble hands and quick feet, with a fair sprinkling of lean muscle; Nissa can be described as fairly attractive.

Her skin is ghostly pale, accented by her jet black hair, which falls down to the center of her back. Her large eyes are an aqua teal, framed by lengthy lashes and thick eyebrows.


Personality: She is self-trained in manipulation, which she uses often. She is self-driven, caring only for others because if they are lost then she would feel sadness at her loss, rather than their death itself. When in her natural mindset she is reserved, sulky, and careworn, but can change her emotions to convince others.

History: She lived in a small village using minor practices of 'witchcraft,' and gained the overall trust of the townsfolk. At some point, however, she became too ambitious and tried to steal a sacred artefact from the local church, and was subsequently banished, as well as hunted. The townsfolk took arms against her and chased her into the woods, where she eventually managed to escape them with a variety of techniques.

Unluckily, as she was buying an apple from a stall at a neighbouring town's market, a man from her homeland recognized her, and she was charged and placed in prison for charges such as assault, theft, manipulation, and escape from justice. She was too young to be publicly executed.

Other: She is skilled with the sling, and is adept at escaping grasp. Nissa is also athletic and agile, can sprint very rapidly and jump long and high, as well as being capable of lifting herself. She can also manipulate her emotions effectively and, on occasion, read others. Her 'witchcraft' composes only of a vast knowledge of medicinal and noxious uses of herbs, roots and plants.

Name: Ariett Deveca.

Age: Twenty-nine. (as of the beginning of the roleplay)

Nationality: Australian.

Sexuality: Asexual.

Occupation: Architectural designer. (She specializes in stone and brick.)

Description: Ariett is slightly short, but with lean muscle allowing some surprising strength—for her size. Her dirty blond hair is usually left dishevelled, and she only brushes it on occasion.

A decisive but carefree individual, she has quick thinking capabilities, though at times can be entirely daft. She isn't precisely shy, but won't interact with another person unless she has a good reason. It should also be noted that though she is a designer, she isn't necessarily very good at it.


Biography: She grew up happily in Sidney, Australia, doing mostly average at school, and living a plain childhood. Except, of course, she built a brick wall across the center of her room with materials she scavenged from abandoned sites. She felt it a masterpiece, and it was this that inspired her to do architectural design.

After a quick degree in some university she's already forgotten the name, she designed multiple small projects, mostly in London, England; and Victoria, British Columbia. Though she had a rather plain and simplistic design spectrum, she was still widely used, if only because she was the cheapest available.

Throughout her adulthood, she has had a few relationships, though they all broke off due to her lack of interest for the physical aspects.

Number 12: She is linked with Two. Two, though a teenager, had a child. Being asexual, and so not wanting to go through the normal procedures of creating a child, Ariett adopted it.

Thirteen: Ariett, while driving on the wrong side of the road, ran Thirteen over. Luckily, no one was nearby; she managed to convince the jury he was at fault, and sued him big-time for it.

For the sake of it, I've written a flash-back here. I'll likely use this at some point in the roleplay, if only for the fun of it. Feel no need to read it, just didn't want to forget any of the ideas I had on the subject.

It was cold morning, and the heating was broken.

She had rented out this car last Tuesday, and it was full of unwelcome surprises. Rundown and plain dirty, it hadn't been the cheapest out there, but it was something she could afford. She didn't often get a contract, and when she did, she wanted every cent to count.

Despite the cold, the weather wasn't too bad; light clouds were smeared across a blurry sky, the sun shining but the glare shielded. A light wind rustled through the thin flaxen stalks of dead grass, creating a soothing effect. The highway she drove upon, deep in Manitoba, was surrounded by fields and grasses extending for miles at times, or ending abruptly in patches of scattered trees, thick with leaves, branches, and other growth. Ariett cruised through it all at a nice 50km/h. Well, I guess you can't really call that cruising, so to speak. It didn't matter what speed she was driving at, really. It was a highway, after all, and no one in sight. How wrong she was.

A piercing beep sounded from the passenger seat, where she had left her bag; recycled, as always, with a few additions she herself had added for sturdiness. She glanced over at it, and returned her gaze back to the road. Ah, what the hell.

Bending over to the the bag, head in the folds as she worked her way through the stuff within, she gripped the steering wheel steadily—or so she thought—between her knees. In reality, the car was drifting slowly to the left side of the road, and not at a slow pace. Just as she gripped the phone in her hand and sat erect in her padded seat, she thumped into a large object in front of the car. She pressed her foot hard on the brakes.

She was out of the car in a flash and staring over the hood of her car in shocked silence, the phone in her hand. Some part of her subconscious hit the 'hang up' button, and the beeping halted halfway through a tone.

In front of the car lay a man like any other, sprawled over the pavement. She pulled him away from her tires—which he had nearly gone under, she noted—and glimpsed his face, which was seemingly of Japanese descent. She touched her finger to his neck around where she remembered the stubble-chinned doctors of television did, but felt no pulse. Then she put her ear to his mouth, feeling his breath against her skin. He's alive, she realized. She sat on her haunches, thinking hard. She'd hit a man on the road, and her insurance, already too high, would go higher.

Except I didn't hit him. He hit me. It was a wicked idea that had formed in her mind, but she had little choice.

Scrambling to the back of the car, she found the wrench the mechanics had left there this morning. She'd noticed at lunch, but had left it untouched. Taking a handkerchief from her jacket pocket, she picked it up and stood, eyes set firmly forward, in front of the rental car. Bringing her arm backwards and, similar to how she would throw a boomerang when she was younger, launched the wrench—cloth and all—directly at her windshield. It was an old car, and the hit broke a sizeable hole in the pane, glass skittering onto the passenger seat. She went back to the car, retrieving the wrench, and went to the Japanese man. Removing the cloth over a section, she passed his palm over it and replaced it where it had lain in the debris.

The phone, still in her left hand, came to her ear, the call tone going off quietly.

"Hello? Police? There's been an accident on Saskota Flyway. A man assaulted threw a wrench at my car, and I ran him over." A pause. "I guess I need an ambulance too, yeah." Another pause. "No, no, I'm fine. Thank you." She hung up.

Later, she would press charges, and by some twisted fate, she won in court.

Other: Her adoptive son's name is Cooper.

Password: Hit4Fun

Name:
Holly Cristen.

Age:
17 years old. (as of the start of the roleplay)

Appearance or Photograph:


Personality:
Somewhat nervous in many situations, especially about decisions, Holly has little to no confidence in her self. She also has a knack for thought, which leads her to think far to much for an average conversation.

She is an overall awkward individual.

Bio:
She's led an altogether uninteresting life so far, doing average in school and making an occasional friend, though her isolation has not led very far in life. She eventually got hired as a dish-washer, and was renowned (throughout the restaurant personnel) for her meticulousness.

Beliefs:
Athiest, though believes in a science-based theory where everything is pre-determined.

Skills:
Very resilient to certain types of pain. The less concentrated or more flesh-painful it is, the better.

E.g.; Needle, tenses up. Gets touched, freaks out. Splinter, freaks out. Dislocates finger, controls pain expertly.

A rather good runner, for both speed and endurance.
Very good at cleaning dishes.

Name:
Jean Dupont.

Age:
57 years old. (as of the start of the roleplay)

Appearance or Photograph:


Personality:
A selfish and arrogant man, Jean considers himself too important to deal with Americans. He feels others should bow to his needs and wants as he sees fit. An altogether annoying companion.

Bio:
He comes from Québec. He's lived his life rather pleasantly through a mixture of business and conning. He's now visiting the States to see how bad it really is, though knows not a word of English.

Beliefs:
Protestant, but never took much honest heed to his religion.

Skills:
He speaks fluent French, and is rather good in the art of persuasion. However, as he cannot speak English, this has become obsolete.

Other:
Firstly, I mean no insult with this character. I myself am French-Canadian, and I just wanted to make a character who people would love to see the end of.

Thusly, I hope he dies really quickly. In fact, I want him to be the first victim in the group, killed at the beginning of the apocalypse.

Groups of characters.

We Need Heroes (92218)

Spoiler

Name: Hamilton 'Tilty' Grossen.

Power: Controls light. Specifically, he can absorb light—primarily from the visible spectrum, though can contain small quantities of radiowaves, microwaves, ultraviolet and the such—and send it back out in a pure white form. This means he can do things such as create a shadow about him, blacken a room, make himself glow, and, at his prime, even create forms out of light (e.g.: expecto patronus from Harry Potter) though it wears him down greatly.

Age: 14 (as of the start of the roleplay).

Gender: Male.

Height: 1.7m.

Weight: 143lbs.

Physique: Average overall, he is fit with a typical teenaged layer of fat (not mega-fat) and has a somewhat thick air about him.

Noticeable Scars*: Blind in his left eye. (It appears glazy, hazed, misty)

Hair Color: A tarry chestnut, minor curls.

Hair Length/Style: About an inch long, slightly longer on top with close cuts around the ears.

Eye Color: A deep brown, with flecks of golden leaf.

Personality: Easy-going and knowing, he quickly adapts to his surroundings, though has a few obsessive fears. Depending on the situation, he can either be calm, controlled and frankly implacable, or simply skittish and uncertain. He may be rebellious at times, but can regulate his emotions when told to.

Quirks*: Often seen to cover his neck up to his chin with his shirt, he also flinches regularly upon most physical contact.

Dominating Qualities: Worrisome, sulky, calculating.

Recessive Qualities: Rebellious, sulky, glaring.

Family: After an unfortunate car accident that killed both his parents only last year (in relation to the start of roleplay), and moreover lacking any other living relatives, he was given to the care of an orphanage. He considers a few of his fellow orphans as family, including Benny Dell (fearful eccentric), John Tedtyn (pouty whiner), Hralf 'Half' Korin (objective leader) and Emilia Tanher (kind sweetheart).

Heroes Years Gone By (93066)

Spoiler

Imagine him younger. :D And in case of confusion, I mean the guy on the left.
Name: Hamilton 'Tilty' Grossen

Age: 16 (as of the start of the roleplay).

Gender: Male.

Race: Caucasian (German/French descent).

Species: Evolved human.

Occupation: High-school student.

Ability: Controls light. Specifically, he can absorb light—primarily from the visible spectrum, though can contain small quantities of radiowaves, microwaves, ultraviolet and the such—and send it back out in a pure white form. This means he can do things such as create a shadow about him, blacken a room, make himself glow, and, at his prime, even create forms out of light (e.g.: expecto patronus from Harry Potter) though it wears him down greatly.

Personality: Knowing and calm, he quickly adapts to his surroundings. Usually polite, he may be rebellious at times. Often sulky, even glaring.

History: He parents having died in the Petrelli Explosion, he was raised in an orphanage (duh) and led an uneventful life so far. He is currently in a relationship with Emilia Tanher.
———————————————————————

Heroes Years Gone By (93066)

Spoiler

Name: Emilia Tanher

Age: 16 (as of the start of the roleplay).

Gender: Female.

Race: Caucasian (Irish/Italian descent).

Species: Human.

Occupation: High-school student.

Ability: None.

Personality: She is very easy-going, with a light attitude and caring demeanour. Sometimes rebellious, she has half-hearted sarcasm.

History: An orphan, he was raised in an orphanage (duh) and led a uneventful life so far. She is the sweetheart of Hamilton Grossen.
———————————————————————

Heroes Years Gone By (93066)

Spoiler

Name: Hralf 'Half' Korin

Age: 16 (as of the start of the roleplay).

Gender: Male.

Race: Native American.

Species: Human.

Occupation: High-school student.

Ability: None.

Personality: Well disposed to leadership tendencies, he is decisive, calm, and can control a situation. However, he does not trust his abilities, and does not like to take responsibility.

History: An orphan, he was raised in an orphanage (duh) and led a uneventful life so far. He receives good grades, though states it is not because he is smart, he just knows all the answers.
———————————————————————

Heroes Years Gone By (93066)

Spoiler

Name: Benny Dell

Age: 16 (as of the start of the roleplay).

Gender: Male.

Race: Caucasian.

Species: Human.

Occupation: High-school student.

Ability: None.

Personality: Often worrisome, Benny isn't eager to do much. He is joyful around friends (until a decision is to be made) and skittish around others. He collects collections, such as fancy rocks and paper clips.

History: An orphan, he was raised in an orphanage (duh) and led a uneventful life so far.
———————————————————————

Heroes Years Gone By (93066)

Spoiler

Name: John Tedtyn

Age: 16 (as of the start of the roleplay).

Gender: Male.

Race: Caucasian.

Species: Human.

Occupation: High-school student.

Ability: None.

Personality: John is a tag-along; not actually participating in activities, he just follows and watches, regularly dropping a comment about what one 'should' and 'shouldn't' do.

History: An orphan, he was raised in an orphanage (duh) and led a uneventful life so far.
———————————————————————

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Ellie Maiflowa.

GENDER/AGE:
16 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
146cm (57in), 55kg (123lbs).
She has become somewhat thin, and her skin is lightly tanned. She bears soft features, though is often in a state of malnutrition. Her hands are delicate, but skilled in dexterity, and her feet are slender, but tough, as she walks barefoot. Her eyes are deep brown.


BACKGROUND
Ellie prefers to remain on land, and has only been on a few sea voyages. She is poor, with no living relatives, but through many different… professions… she manages to eat and survive. She lives in a small hut, constructed from a rather large wooden crate with leaves, grass and the such on the top for added protection.

She plays the lute, and this gives her some success as a street performer. She also does some small theft, and at the direst of times, gives her body over for food.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
She has a small, wooden house, formed from a crate with vegetation to protect from the rain. Inside is contained a large, thick blanket which once belonged to her brother, who died at sea.

She carries around a little lute—which she built herself. It is of simple make, with many replacement materials; a turtle shell for the bell [I think it is called as such; I'm a trumpeter, myself], sticks of wood holding it together, twine and animal tendons for string.

Her clothing is damaged and usually dirty, though she washes it at least once a month. It contains two long lengths of fabric to wrap around the breast to keep it in place; a scruffy shirt with many holes; a large coat, warm and well insulated, stolen from the dictator of the four-fifths (she rarely bothers with names); a tattered dress, once blue but now faded beige; and two long skirts, which reach down to her ankles. She bears no shoes. She also wears a twine necklace with a small carved figure—a wooden seagull—she'd recieved from her deceased brother.

She recently acquired new clothing and the such. This includes a short deep green skirt, with little use other than to cover her unmentionables; two longer skirts of good warmth, one muddy brown, one navy blue; one pink T-shirt; two tank tops which reveal a large part of her shoulder and upper torso, both tan; a thick brown long-sleeved shirt; a beige mesh-like over-shirt; and some undergarments. She also got shoes, but decided against wearing them.

Her last possession is a chicken named Pettry, who she feeds for eggs. she is carried around in a backpack.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
Ellie wanders around the island, though remains primarily on the four-fifths. She cannot read (though she's memorized a series of symbols in a few dialects, and recognizes them as letters), and knows little in the way of intellectual matter. She has a companion, Era, who she often performs with.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Era Rosabudd.

GENDER/AGE:
16 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
151cm (59in), 53kg (116lbs).
She is of slight build, her skin lightly tanned by the sun. Her features are angled and delicate, as if carved from wood. Her nose is curved and juts out partially at the end, framed by a small mouth. Her hair is bronze, and her eyes a bright tan.


BACKGROUND
Era is an orphan, and lives wherever she finds herself. At a young age, she tried thievery, but was terrible at it, and found herself regularly beaten.

Nowadays, she sings soprano to get food, and hangs out often with Ellie. Sometimes, in bad weather or simply when in the mood, she will share Ellie's home.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
She carries a rough, but warm, blanket. She wears poor clothing, including a dress, a few shirts and a pair of boys' pants, which she wears more often than not. Other than that, she has no possessions.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
Era wanders aimlessly, and has had a few fleeting relationships with others, but doesn't stay long, with the exception of Ellie. They have been together for quite some time, and are quite fond of one another.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Dedigna Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
34 year old woman, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
Dedigna carries herself with poise, and is rather petite, as well as slender. Her black hair is always well-kempt, and is held above her angular face. She often smiles.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Husband killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's mother. She is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the other mother and siblings of the family.

Dedigna is characterized by;
• Kindness,
• Strict discipline,
• High expectations from her children,
• Gentle and caressing,
• Deep love for deceased husband,
• Connection with Molita,
• Older mother in the family.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Molita Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
32 year old woman, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
Though once careless, she became more gloomy after her husband's death. She lets her brown hair fall as it pleases, and is healthy and motherly in appearance. She is rather simple-looking, with an average form.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Husband killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's mother. She is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the other mother and siblings of the family.

Molita is characterized by;
• Kindness,
• Acceptance and easy forgiveness,
• Somewhat careless perspective,
• Playful attitude,
• Deep love for deceased husband,
• Connection with Dedigna,
• Younger mother in the family.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Yinwa Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
17 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
141cm (55in), 50kg (110lbs).
She is well nourished, having acquired a profession at a young age and living in a relatively prosperous family. Her hair is black, and she is of Asian descent, giving her slitted eye structure and a short, fit physique.


BACKGROUND
She lived a normal life, always having enough to eat, but not being rich. She lived in a family of six kids—being her, two brothers and three sisters—the two mothers, and her father, who worked at the tiller of a boat sailed by a man named Gupta.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Her family lives in a moderately sized house, bearing four separate bedchambers; one for the boys, one for the girls, and one for each of her father's wives. Her father would sleep with one wife or the other—sometimes both—depending on how he felt.

As mentioned earlier, they ate fitfully, not a lot but well enough. After all, Gupta was good to his men, and the womenfolk had minor jobs themselves.

Yinwa has few personal items herself; only a few clams she'd been given by her father and a small statuette carved from stone, in the form of a chicken; she'd found it on the beach years back.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
She lives in the four-fifths, and works at the (not-so-)public bathhouse, comforting guests. She is not embarrassed by physical things, but emotions and affections make her a bit awkward. Yinwa is also very skilled with her hands, doing some hair-cutting and braiding in the baths for those that asked (via money).

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Copa Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
14 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
She is slender and young, though not unhealthy. Her hair, a light brown tinted with blond, is often cropped short and curled at the tips, covering her ears but bearing her forehead. Her hazel eyes often pierce her surrounding with cold glares or thoughtful stares.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Father killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's sister. She is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the mothers and other siblings of the family.
She may sometimes be used like a full-fledged character for certain situations.

Her mother is Molita Dal.

Copa is characterized by;
• Tougher personality,
• Rebellious/sulky demeanour,
• Protective attitude towards family,
• Doesn't have a job,
• Second eldest Dal child.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Sheila Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
13 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
She often has Yinwa do her hair, generally in something between a ponytail and a bun. She looks more like her father than the other Dedigna kids, with brownish hair and less pale skin. She is somewhat thin, though keeps fit.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Father killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's sister. She is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the mothers and other siblings of the family.

Her mother is Dedigna Dal.

Sheila is characterized by;
• Impulsive nature,
• Selfish and cocky,
• Rebellious demeanour,
• Doesn't have a job,
• Third eldest Dal child.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Evelan Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
9 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
Small and quite pale, she has the look of an innocent yet careworn child. She lets her dark hair grow long, and forbids anyone to do anything with it.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Father killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's sister. She is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the mothers and other siblings of the family.

Her mother is Molita Dal.

Evelan is characterized by;
• Optimistic/expectant attitude,
• Ignorant to adult world,
• Imaginative,
• Fourth eldest Dal child.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Herrilt Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
6 year old boy, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
Unlike the rest of his family, Herry can be described both as chubby and stubby. His dark hair is cut regularly, and he always has a look of half-wit about him.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Father killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's brother. He is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the mothers and other siblings of the family.

His mother is Molita Dal.

Herrilt is characterized by;
• Excitable personality,
• Pouty/childish demeanour,
• Often annoyed by sisters,
• Strong connection with Tangta,
• Low intelligence,
• Fifth eldest Dal child.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Tangta Dal.

GENDER/AGE:
6 year old boy, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
Tangta is thicker than most of his family, and is rather fit for his age. His dark hair with brown accents is often let grow, and he grins with a mischievous twist. He also has a very short, round nose and large ears.


BACKGROUND
Uneventful past, being but an average NPC.

Recent history;
• Father killed by Hardwood in Gupta's service.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Moderately sized house;
• four separate bedchambers,
• kitchen,
• indoor toiletry.

Reasonable food supplies.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC, Yinwa's brother. He is used to give a realistic feel to the family, in conjunction with the mothers and other siblings of the family.

His mother is Dedigna Dal.

Tangta is characterized by;
• Excitable personality,
• Pouty/childish demeanour,
• Often annoyed by sisters,
• Strong connection with Herrilt,
• Mischievous,
• Sixth eldest Dal child.

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Jack the Dim. (Aka Jackie, Jack'o'lantern, Jacko, Beanstalk Jack)

GENDER/AGE:
Male, 27.

DESCRIPTION:
175cm (69in), 73kg (160lbs).
He bears ruffled brown hair and is very fit.


BACKGROUND
Jack is the mountain lookout at the High Peak Watch Station, and has been since he was seven, working with his father. When he was fourteen, his father abandoned him, stating; "My son thou art no more; these heights have changed you, and never shall ye rediscover thine humanity. I give thee mine blessing, and take mine leave of you." His father, having been drunk all morning, walked off and promptly fell off a cliff, dying upon the rocks below. Jack remained up there, rarely leaving, with a Runner regularly coming up to give food, supplies and send messages back and forth.

As of now, Jack has become rather socially inept, and though on the verge of sanity, has little going for him. He is an altogether boring individual.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
He lives in a sturdy wooden lookout tower at the the top of High Peak Watch Station. It contains a small cot, with hay-stuffed bedding; a small desk and chair, with an inkwell, writing feather and stack of parchment for sending messages, doodling or writing; a small table with an oil lamp; and a bunch of boxes containing supplies shipped up with the Runner.

He also possesses a large brass telescope, which he cares for more than himself. It has variable focusing by twisting certain knobs and such, allowing him to see most anything on the island, so long as he has a clear sight. He has mastered its use to an art, and, holding the telescope in his hands, could track the flight of an eagle from the opposite side of the island.

He has some clothing, mostly long-sleeved shirts, breeches and pants. He has a chain mail coat which was passed to him from his father, as well as a light archer's helmet which he wears on occasion, a powerful recurve bow, and a large quantity of arrows. As with the telescope, he mastered the bow in his long time up there.

His last possession is a large mirror he uses to send messages to ships out on the water.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
If you look closely, you may often see strange lights coming from his perch in the night. This is where he got the Jack'o'Lantern nickname.

[[This is something of an NPC—he won't do much, maybe just a post a game day—and should be left out of most every interaction. He is more there for the sake of being there.

Also, note that I made this character rather overpowered. This was both for the fun of it and because he's had a lot of time to practice.]]

CHARACTER'S NAME:
Helline the Runner.

GENDER/AGE:
23 year old girl, as of the start of the roleplay.

DESCRIPTION:
###cm (##in), ##kg (##lbs).
Helline is very much fit, being trained in both sprinting and endurance running, as well as carrying parcels. Her hair is often dishevelled from running through the woods. She has soft features, but is tough.


BACKGROUND
She is the Runner of the High Peak Watch Station, but also takes on other professions. She is a widely used messenger and courier, delivering to most anywhere on the island, be it East Bay, her hometown, or Yon's territory. She resides in the East Bay manor, though sometimes spends the night at the HPWS in a side room.

MAJOR VALUABLES, POSSESSIONS, WEALTH, etc.
Simple athletic clothing.

Other items;
• Some parchment,
• A charcoal.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO TELL:
This character is an NPC. She is used in conjunction with Jack.
She may sometimes be used like a full-fledged character for certain situations.

Helline is characterized by;
• The ability to write good English,
• Calm demeanour,
• No living relatives,
• Strong connection with Jack,
• Works hard,
• Trustworthy and honest,
• Very fit;
---Endurance running,
---Sprinting,
---Cross-country,
---Climbing,
---Jumping,
---Other athletic skills.

[Holmishire]

Holmishire is the name of a fictional town in a story I'm working on. I just find it a more personal usertitle to my others, like PureLifeWorks, the_Minotaur, the_Vhamotaur, and the_Spamotaur.

I'm an aspiring author, but so far have had little luck. The problem is I'm pretty good at creating a basic story, as well as random parts within it—and I consider myself talented enough with characters—but I can never find a way to make the whole thing flow.

One thing I like to do, however, is use an anticlimax. I love ending stories in abrupt, realistic ways. Or at least just doing parts of it like that.


In terms of roleplaying, I'm a Casual, and I prefer mostly fantasy-based stories, though I've tried a bit of everything. I often enjoy using multiple characters at once, because it allows me to effectively pull a story through a standstill without having to worry about other players not cooperating. And it means I can post without needing a direct reaction from someone else, which can get difficult after a while.

[Holmishire]

As I am now writing (or trying to) a book based off the Holmishire-style world, I'm gonna create a storage facility in this post for all the things found therein, as I create them.

Abditum is a small nation hidden within a valley. It is roughly square, with the ocean on one side. The population is rather peaceful in nature, and though a large portion of the people train in some form of protection or another. However, criminality is practically unheard of within the confines of the mountains. There have even been brigands hired by a generous farmer after being caught stealing valuables.

The capital city of Abditum, it was never given a name. Here lives the King, and is the highest populated settlement of the country. It is completely walled, with two large gates and portcullises. Surrounded by forest on three sides, however, it is often commented that it is the worst position for a castle imaginable. Enemy troops can walk right up to the wall without being shot in places, and there are even clearings large enough to hide a ballista.

This is the main fishing and trade settlement, with the second highest population in the country. Rurmel as a town has no farms or outlying land, just surrounding forest on two sides, a river on another, and the ocean on the third. They are located on a jutting area of the coast set off into the side of the mountains, like a peninsula is to the ocean.

They have a few distance sailing boats, but mostly allow the trade to come to them. A large bare grassfield beside the town is used once annually for a festival and national market. Representatives and families from almost every village—Volkshire has rarely been known to come—come to celebrate and party.

It's entire population save one was either brutally murdered in an attack by the Meussmen, died in the city's burning thereafter, or starved in the wild forests South of it.

_

This is a low-population farming village. The large majority of role-compatible characters will originate from here, like Shief the shepherd and Bhors the lumberjack.

It was named after the Holm Oak tree, found in the center of the town square, upon a large hill. The acorns are collected and fed to pigs, which are renowned throughout the valley as being of the highest quality.

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

This is an isolated village in the high East of the country, by the mountains. Almost the entire population is composed of expertly trained warriors. They train from a very young age to fight off the supernatural monsters who attack them on a regular, if not continuous, basis.

The first King of Abditum hid an artefact here aeons ago, to hide it from greedy hands. In this way it is protected not only by the fiercest warriors of Abditum, but also by the wild beasts that dwell there.

Now, food is shipped there, free of charge, so that they may forevermore contain the beasts in that area.

It was named for the the term 'Volk,' meaning 'the people.'

[Holmishire]

So, I've now taken to participating in WotM. And, for the sake of it, I've decided I'm gonna fix up every entry that passes through there—largely around the critiques I receive therein—just to see how much I can improve.

My first entry; Travel log. Title; Unfulfilled.

___The following pages to be sent to the Duke’s official library, to be perused by his scholars working therein. It appears to be written by a young deckhand of a schooner that went missing near a fortnight ago. Certain segments appear to have been partially erased, but are still legible with a moments concentration. Attached is a paper listing the times and headings of the ship’s course, from which a good cartographer might be able to pinpoint the final destination of their voyage, so as to improve our current knowledge of the archipelago’s surrounding seas.
___These pages, likely excerpts torn from a logbook, were found in a glass bottle on the western shores, near the old lighthouse.


Day 1
___A boy stands silent, leaning against the rail near the stern of the small schooner, as he stares morosely at the wake drifting slowly away. He still ponders the moments before they’d set sail, as he waved his farewell to a frail, worried sister watching from the shore.
___He knows it’ll be many days ‘till he sees her next. He knows she’ll be left alone on the streets, striving to survive the hardships of the poor and impoverished. But this was a chance he could not miss.
___I’ve been hired by a gruff old sailor for this two-week voyage. Twelve coppers a day, and the deal was simple. “I sail, you work.” In this case, work means prepare the meals, clean, grab all the loot I can help scavenge on the islands we may cross, mark the headings as the sailor calls them, and track the hour.
___The only reason I managed to get the job was by being literate. Of all the orphans on the island, I was of the few who went to the trouble of learning to read and write in between picking pockets and scavenging for food.
___This is actually just practice, as well as a nice pass-time. With all the coppers I’ll get, I might be able to pay for an apprenticeship, maybe as a scribe. Then me and my sister my sister and I could find a boarding house and get out of the slums.

Day 2
___The sun burns a bright hole through the high clouds. The old sailor pulls his line taut, sweat trickling down his back from the intense heat, as the fore-and-aft sail swoops into tack. He grunts over at the brown-haired boy stretched across the gunwale. “Heading.”
___The boy slides deftly around the shroud, unhitching himself as he did so from the attached ratlines. Sauntering over to the compass and checking his windup timepiece, he nods complacently to his master. With a quick glance at the direction and a couple words jotted down, he responds. “225! South west.”
___So far, all the work’s been fairly straightforward, and I’m having no trouble. The old man is a bit rough—hasn’t spoken a word to me but for brusque orders—but I care not. I fare well in solitude.
___He lent me a brass timepiece for the trip, to increase efficiency whilst I mark the headings and hour. At first, I considered it a surprising show of trust—but I soon realized there isn’t much of anywhere for me to run off with it out here.

Day 3
___The boy slouches across the wheel as the schooner rocks gently beneath his feet. The stars shine above him, barely illuminating the compass within its binnacle.
___A light wind tugs the boat slowly forward. Dark waves slip past the cold iron of the hull. The boy sighs. It may be beautiful, but the night is also far too long.
___Contrary to the earlier deal, I too do my fair share of the sailing. Every night, I take the helm for eight hours, following whichever star I’ve been shown while the old man sleeps. Two hours fore midnight I start, and once he comes to relive me I’m to make breakfast and continue my chores. He sails the rest of the time, so I’ve come to sleep throughout the afternoon.
___He saw a couple of birds late this evening, so we’re expecting to find some form of land by morning. I’m to wake him at first sighting.

Day 4
___The quill scratches across the thin vellum, leaving behind the telltale black markings of ink. Letters became words, words became sentences, as the boy inevitably writes his way into redundancy of his journey.
___Not much to say today. We found the island—if you could call it that. Barely a yard in any one direction. At least we set anchor, se we can both now get a full night’s sleep.

Day 5
___Land came into sight halfway to midnight.
___Both boy and sailor are in good spirits. Though far off, they could tell the island was sizeable enough. As the weathered sailor continues their course, the youth sets to preparing for a couple days ashore. He packs food, blankets, torches, a tent, and other necessities into the wide-hulled paddleboat.
___I’m excited. Land is near, and the two of us are ready for the first expedition. This area has never been explored before, so we’re bound to find at least something to salvage. After all, it is said the Ancestors couldn’t help but build on every piece of land they could ‘fore the great flooding.

Day 6.
___The machete easily chops through the thick vegetation.
___Man and boy travel through the dense forest, heavy packs upon their shoulders. The old sailor leads the way, cutting a makeshift trail through the overgrown brush, as the boy scrambles along behind, searching the ground for any hidden objects of the Ancestor’s.
___Hours pass, as they trudge slowly up a long slope, hoping to reach the top soon, so as to be able to scour the island for any hints.
___Finally, they reach the top. Ruins stand before them.
___A mass of vines, bushes, and rusted metal lay upon the crest, camouflaged amongst the trees. They enter.
___It is a small building. Only two rooms: one for the toilet, the other for just about anything else. In the latter, a single bed, torn apart long ago by years of local fowl making their nests. A kitchen sink, without working water. A gas oven. A wooden table. Some chairs. Shelves. Cupboards.
___They quickly rummage around.
___Stainless steel utensils. Plastic containers. Glass jars. Some old dysfunctional machine, useful for the small metal parts and springs hidden inside. These were things they could very easily sell, and for good money.
___It may not be a fortune, but it would definitely pay for the costs of the voyage.
___We brought anything useful down to the shore. It took two trips, over the most part of the day. Tomorrow, we’ll transport them over to the ship, and we can sail for home.
___Then my sister and I can finally start a real life!

Day 8
___Seagulls circle above, hungering for the dead flesh, as the dejected boy heaves a cloth-covered form over the gunwale.
___I don’t know how to get back. I don’t know what to do.
___But my only hope is to sail.
___The old sailor was bitten by a snake yestermorn. He stumbled back to the campground, went into convulsions, and shortly thereafter, died. I was useless, pathetic. There was nothing I could do, so I watched. I sat there, consumed by shock. What else was I to do?
___So I rowed back to the schooner, and did my best to give him a sailor’s funeral. I’m going to have to sail back alone. I shan’t sleep, lest we drift off course. I can’t make a single blunder, for I know nothing of navigation. I’ll have to try to follow, backwards, the headings I’ve copied over the past couple of days. I doubt that I’ll succeed.
___And so, I send this bottle in desperation, desperation driven by hope. Hope that it will somehow reach my sister, even if I do not. She won’t be able to read, but she’ll recognize the handwriting.
___And she’ll know I tried.

___The following pages to be sent to the Duke’s official library, to be perused by his scholars working therein. It appears to be written by a young deckhand of a schooner that went missing near a fortnight ago. Certain segments appear to have been partially erased, but are still legible with a moments concentration. Attached is a paper listing the times and headings of the ship’s course, from which a good cartographer might be able to pinpoint the final destination of their voyage, so as to improve our current knowledge of the archipelago’s surrounding seas.
___These pages, likely excerpts torn from a logbook, were found in a glass bottle on the western shores, near the old lighthouse.


Day 1
___A boy stands silent, leaning against the rail near the stern of the small schooner, as he stares morosely at the wake drifting slowly away. He still ponders the moments before they’d set sail, as he waved his farewell to a frail, worried sister watching from the shore.
___He knows it’ll be many days ‘till he sees her next. He knows she’ll be left alone on the streets, striving to survive the hardships of the poor and impoverished. But this was a chance he could not miss.
___I’ve been hired by a gruff old sailor for this two-week voyage. Twelve coppers a day, and the deal was simple. “I sail, you work.” In this case, work means prepare the meals, clean, grab all the loot I can help scavenge on the islands we may cross, mark the headings as the sailor calls them, and track the hour.
___I was able to get the job by being one of the few kids around the island, I'd bothered to learn to read and write between picking pockets and stealing food. I read the poster he put up, and when he saw I was good enough to mark down some notes, he hired me. Probably doesn't even know I'm homeless.
___I'm writing this both to pass the time, as I imagine there won't be much to do on this small vessel, and for my sister. She likes it when I read her stories from the books I've pilfered at the library, and she's bound to have a whole roster of questions for when I return.
___Ah, what a good reunion that'll be! With all the coppers I’ll get, I might be able to pay for an apprenticeship, maybe as a scribe. Then me and my sister my sister and I could find a boarding house and get out of the slums.

Day 2
___The sun burns a bright hole through the high clouds. The old sailor pulls his line taut, sweat trickling down his back from the intense heat, as the fore-and-aft sail swoops into tack. He grunts over at the brown-haired boy stretched across the gunwale. “Heading.”
___The boy slides deftly around the shroud, unhitching himself as he did so from the attached ratlines. Sauntering over to the compass and checking his windup timepiece, he nods complacently to his master. With a quick glance at the direction and a couple words jotted down, he responds. “225! South west.”
___So far, all the work’s been fairly straightforward, and I’m having no trouble. The old man is a bit rough—hasn’t spoken a word to me but for brusque orders—but I care not. I fare well in solitude.
___He lent me a brass timepiece for the trip, to increase efficiency whilst I mark the headings and hour. At first, I considered it a surprising show of trust—but I soon realized there isn’t much of anywhere for me to run off with it out here.

Day 3
___The boy slouches across the wheel as the schooner rocks gently beneath his feet. The stars shine above him, barely illuminating the compass within its binnacle.
___A light wind tugs the boat slowly forward. Dark waves slip past the cold iron of the hull. The boy sighs. It may be beautiful, but the night is also far too long.
___Contrary to the earlier deal, I too do my fair share of the sailing. Every night, I take the helm for eight hours, following whichever star I’ve been shown while the old man sleeps. Two hours 'fore midnight I start, and once he comes to relieve me I’m to make breakfast and continue my chores. He sails the rest of the time, so I’ve come to sleep throughout the afternoon.
___He saw a couple of birds late this evening, so we’re expecting to find some form of land by morning. I’m to wake him at first sighting.

Day 4
___The quill scratches across the thin vellum, leaving behind the telltale black markings of ink. A cool breeze penetrates through the boy's frayed garb, sending a slight shiver down his spine. He searches within himself, through memories, emotions, and knowledge, for inspiration.
___But only one memory occupies his wandering mind. A memory that is both his torment and his solace.
___A single tear fell forth from his cheek, alighting upon the page with a splatter and a sparkle.
___It is a memory of his sister.
___Not much to say today. We found the island—if you could call it that. Barely a yard in any one direction. At least we set anchor, se we can both now get a full night’s sleep.
___I keep thinking of my sister. Only been around for a decade, and she's stuck fending for herself amidst the beggars and the tramps. I don't know how she'll get by.
___Of course, she has gotten a couple coins in the past from her singing, but I'm the one who always pulled the weight. She's too young yet to really get into stealing, and frankly, that's the only way to get fed. When I get back, I'll have to teach her a thing or two.

Day 5
___Land came into sight halfway to midnight.
___Both boy and sailor are in good spirits. Though far off, they could tell the island was sizeable enough. As the weathered sailor continues their course, the youth sets to preparing for a couple days ashore. He packs food, blankets, torches, a tent, and other necessities into the wide-hulled paddleboat.
___I’m excited. Land is near, and the two of us are ready for the first expedition. This area has never been explored before, so we’re bound to find at least something to salvage. After all, it is said the Ancestors couldn’t help but build on every piece of land they could ‘fore the great flooding.

Day 6.
___The machete easily chops through the thick vegetation.
___Man and boy travel through the dense forest, heavy packs upon their shoulders. The old sailor leads the way, cutting a makeshift trail through the overgrown brush, as the boy scrambles along behind, searching the ground for any hidden objects of the Ancestor’s.
___Hours pass, as they trudge slowly up a long slope, hoping to reach the top soon, so as to be able to scour the island for any hints.
___Finally, they reach the top. Ruins stand before them.
___A mass of vines, bushes, and rusted metal lay upon the crest, camouflaged amongst the trees. They enter.
___It is a small building. Only two rooms: one for the toilet, the other for just about anything else. In the latter, a single bed, torn apart long ago by years of local fowl making their nests. A kitchen sink, without working water. A gas oven. A wooden table. Some chairs. Shelves. Cupboards.
___They quickly rummage around.
___Stainless steel utensils. Plastic containers. Glass jars. Some old dysfunctional machine, useful for the small metal parts and springs hidden inside. These were things they could very easily sell, and for good money.
___It may not be a fortune, but it would definitely pay for the costs of the voyage.
___We brought anything useful down to the shore. It took two trips, over the most part of the day. Tomorrow, we’ll transport them over to the ship, and we can sail for home.
___Then my sister and I can finally start a real life!

Day 7
___A shout is heard. A shout of pain.
___The boy rushes out of the tent, searching the forest line for the source of the shout.
Branches were heaved aside as the old man frantically stumbled out of the trees, his skin paler than he'd ever seen before. The boy quickly rushed over to help support his captain, dragging him over to their camp and laying him onto one of the sleeping mats. The sailor pointed at his leg, his breathing apparently hampered and thus unable to speak. Quickly pulling up the pantleg, the boy instantly knew what had happened.
___Two identical bleeding spots were surrounded by an odd, discoloured swelling. The man had been bitten by a snake.
___"H-help me…" the afflicted sailor managed.
___But the boy just stared in horror.
___I don't
___It's hard to descri
___The sailor's dead. I don't know what to say.

Day 8
___Seagulls circle above, hungering for the dead flesh, as the dejected boy heaves a cloth-covered form over the gunwale.
___I don’t know how to get back. I don’t know what to do.
___But my only hope is to sail.
___The old sailor was bitten by a snake yestermorn. He stumbled back to the campground, went into convulsions, and shortly thereafter, died. I was useless, pathetic. There was nothing I could do, so I watched. I sat there, consumed by shock. What else was I to do?
___So I rowed back to the schooner, and did my best to give him a sailor’s funeral. I’m going to have to sail back alone. I shan’t sleep, lest we drift off course. I can’t make a single blunder, for I know nothing of navigation. I’ll have to try to follow, backwards, the headings I’ve copied over the past couple of days. I doubt that I’ll succeed.
___And so, I send this bottle in desperation, desperation driven by hope. Hope that it will somehow reach my sister, even if I do not. She won’t be able to read, but she’ll recognize the handwriting.
___And she’ll know I tried.

I didn't end up changing a lot, just added or took a way bits to make it make more sense for those who read it. I like both pretty much equally, for different reasons.

• The first one, the one I entered with, was really just a straight-out rough draft. I liked it like that largely because it made it more realistic. The lack of the seventh day and some vague details made more like someone who was writing than an actual story.
• The second is mainly different in that I mentionned the sister again, and that I added in the seventh day. This makes it more climactic, like Brovo suggested, but it takes away a bit of the journal-esque feel.

I decided not to add in details about the world, because I just decided that to find a way to do that in a journal wouldn't really feel write, and I'd probably have to have changed a whole lot more.

Someday, I think I'll return to this, just as I wish to return to his sister as a character, but for now, I think I've pretty much figured out what the application to the suggestions in the contest would come out as.

[Holmishire]

I will now compile my signature/s here, for quick and easy access. And so that I can properly experiment with new ones sans worry.


This was my first big signature. It was created shortly after I arrived on RPG, and while friending the few people I wanted to friend, I tried it on myself just to see. The interesting thing was not that it didn't work, more than that it actually gave me the option. Since a little while ago, they fixed this, and made it so that there was no longer a link on my profile page to add myself as a friend. I keep this signature anyways, as an in-joke with the website's history.

Redirecting…

You can't be friends with yourself

Click here if your browser does not automatically redirect you.

I created these icons for quick access to images that interested me, and that i wanted to reveal to others. They're rather pointless, but I hope to come to a wondrous collection.

---

⚉ ☣

I've now begun advertising both WotM and AotM in my signature. These are the templates, quote them to see how they work.

Come vote for Writer of the Month! Casual and Advanced Voting Threads. Voting ends May 17th.

Come vote for Artist of the Month! Casual and Advanced Voting Threads. Voting ends May 17th.

Writer of the Month contest is up. Theme? Colonization. Submissions accepted until May 5th.

Artist of the Month contest is up. Theme? Colonization. Submissions accepted until May 5th.

RPG has a Writer of the Month contest. Always looking for participants. More details to come.

RPG has an Artist of the Month contest. Always looking for participants. More details to come.

RPG has a Writer of the Month contest. Always looking for votes and reviews. More details to come.

RPG has an Artist of the Month contest. Always looking for votes and critiques. More details to come.

[Holmishire]

Currently under conception.

[Holmishire]

Currently under conception.

[Holmishire]

Currently under conception.