Dipper said
Technically, I didn't, but ok.

Yeah, you did. It doesn't matter what cutesy way you spell it, it means the same thing.

Dervish said
Yeah, you did. It doesn't matter what cutesy way you spell it, it means the same thing.

I'm not gonna argue with you, man.

Hey, im sorry, i didn't mean to start something. I just kinda needed to vent a bit. In case anyone was thinking, I wasn't offended at all or anything.

Meanwhile, MORE FILLER (And in case this is a double post, please pardon it, my internet is fucked up for some reason as well as my ps3 -__)

The bizarre trio of Sion,Thyra, and Cub arrived at one of the jewelry stores in Los Santos quickly as Sion once again, had road rage and flew(literally) over traffic. Concealing their weapons, the three casually entered the store, specifically a Sears Store which had the absolute most gaudy jewelry ever, with obnoxious music playing in the background, and walked up to the cashier with Thyra in front, and Sion and Cub behind her.

"Hello! How may I help you miss?" The disgustingly happy cashier lady asked Thyra. As casually as they entered the store, Thyra casually yet bluntly responded. "Hello, I'm looking for the most beautiful necklace you have. Point it out to me." She said. Sion was a little bit shocked that she didn't even come up with any form of an excuse as to why she wanted the best necklace. But, it didn't matter because the cashier put on a quizzical expression before nodding her head with a smile. "Oh, I believe you are looking for our "Omelette du fromage" as many people are. It is quite the work of art I should say." She said as she pointed down to the necklace in the glass cabinet right in front of the group. Sion tried to peer over Thyra to see what the cashier meant, however when he did, Thyra whispered "Perfect" to herself and smashed the glass cabinet with one hand, snatching the necklace, uninjured by the broken glass.

The happy cashier became the scared cashier and started to scream hysterically, as did the rest of the snobby Vurwe-esque people in the store, yet none of them were running. "Everyone drop your wallets, now." Thyra demanded as she pulled out her war-axe out of the blue, pointing it at the cashier. Everyone frantically began to dig in their pants for their wallets at a surprisingly slow rate. "Okay we need to speed this up before the cops show up..." Sion thought. He stared at Cub for a second before poking him with one finger, inflicting the Orc with a frenzy spell. With a bellow, Cub lunged over the broken glass cabinet towards the cashier like a flying bear and started chasing her, and eventually everyone in the store on all fours. "Drop your wallets and we'll call him off!" Thyra yelled as people were frantically being pursued by the now barking, and foaming at the mouth Cub. She turned to Sion. "Cat, check the register and pick up everyone's wallets. I'll take whatever looks worthwhile." She spoke. Quickly the two snatched most of the jewelry and almost everyone's wallets before a siren picked up in their ears. "Damn, the cops are here. Move Kids." Thyra cursed as she began to run out of the store. "Come on Cub we're leaving!" Sion yelled as he rather hysterically ran out of the store. At this point Cub was attempting to mangle some poor man's arm with his teeth but heard Sion and Thyra's voices. With a few whimpers of a puppy, Cub let go of the man's arm and dashed away, still on all fours.

To the right down the street, a single cop car was viewed in the distance. The trio dove inside the mini-cooper and Sion hysterically started up the car, and also accidentally turned on the radio. Sion held his head in annoyance, this one damn song kept playing non-stop ONLY when he was being chased by the cops. He slowly turned his head around to see Cub staring at him with an expression that said "really?" "Look I didn't mean to turn on the radio to listen to this!" he defended himself. Cub's expression changed to a "Yeah, sure." one right after. "It's true-" "Sion, fucking drive." Thyra cut him off. With a gulp, Sion sped down the street, swerving between cars and pedestrians. Cub pulled out his Ifruit and checked an app the team had called "Cop S.T.A.R.S.". "We've got one star." He alerted the group. Sion didn't hear him as he went into a frantic again, driving on the sidewalk, however he did hear the cops shout on their speaker "I'm a member of S.T.A.R.S! Pull over now." Thyra scanned the area upcoming to them and spotted large shrubbery at a nearby house. "Sion park the car near there." She said as she pointed to the shrubbery. Instinctively, Sion parked the car near the shrub. At the same time, the three took a quick bunny hop out of the car, another hop to get closer to the shrubbery, and another hop inside the shrubbery. If one looked closely, all you could see sticking out of the shrub were three pairs of eyes. "Okay, how the hell is this going to work?" Sion asked. "Just wait, Cub check "Cop S.T.A.R.S". Thyra whispered as the cop car approached where the mini-cooper was parked. Sion and Thyra watched as the bewildered cops sitting in their car simply scratched their head after sitting there for a minute and drove off. "No stars, we're in the clear." He confirmed. The cops actually gave up on chasing them. Wait, why was Sion shocked about this? It's happened many times before...

The three slowly walked out of the shrubbery, approaching their getaway vehicle. "Alright kids, back to Sion's house so we can split up the goods." Thyra said smirking. As Sion opened the door to the driver's seat, a black escalade pulled up to their vehicle, blasting the most obnoxious song ever. The driver opened up the car door and leaned out of his seat, smirking. Sion wasn't smirking when he saw who it was. "Evening kids." Wets-His-Blade greeted Sion and Cub who both sighed. "Evening." Cub responded back as Sion simply crossed his arms in front of his chest as a response. "Evening beautiful." He greeted Thyra. "Blade." She said with a nod. "I'm shocked, you're not driving the bike for once." "Had to use the escalade to drive clients. I need the money since no one will fight me in the cage. Sion, light." He said as he held a cigarette in his mouth, practically commanding the khajiit. With a sigh, Sion snapped his fingers and produced a small fire on the tip of his thumb, lighting the cigarette. "Any reason you're here Blade?" Sion asked glaring. "I saw your little chase there as I was driving to another client and followed you." He answered, taking a pull and puff of the cigarette.

"Yeah, we just held up a jewelry store." Cub told him. Sion whipped his head around quickly to the Orc with a furious expression. "You idiot! I-" Sion's thought was cut off when the argonian chuckled. "Really now? Sion, I assume, you've got a cut of the spoils?" He tauned the khajiit. He simply nodded as his eyes stared at the confused Cub, burning into his soul. "Good, give me what's yours. You owe me money, and I owe Sevari money. I don't wan't to be on his hit-list and you know what he can and will do". He said grinning from cheek to cheek. Sion sighed. "Can't I just pay you back later-" "No. Remember who was a little too drunk at my house, and tried to blast a certain orc with a lupara?" He cut off Sion. With another sigh, Sion walked to his car, and pulled out one of the bags filled with cash. "Here, take your dirty money." He said as he chucked the bag at the argonian. "Thanks boy. By the way, Marassa wants you to call her. She needs a few people to help out with something." Blade said as he caught the bag with his free-hand, taking another drag from the cigarette after.

Great, just great. Marassa was the second-in-command tied with Sevari right after the boss. And she was not someone Sion enjoyed talking to. She would possibly be attractive to him, if she didn't make him soil himself in fear just by her presence. "Fine, we'll call Marassa..." Sion slightly whined. With a nod, Blade closed the door of the car and drove off. "Damn, I don't want to even think about talking to that Marassa." Thyra mumbled as she walked to Sion's car. And with that, the three hopped into the car, and set off to meet Marassa. Yay?

Leidenschaft said
Hey, guys, can I get a roll call up in here? Everyone who's still here say, "Aye."

Yea. I mean, Aye! RL has been swallowing my free time, but I'm still working on the bio. It'll be up by Monday.

I am still here.

Cairomaru said
Hey, im sorry, i didn't mean to start something. I just kinda needed to vent a bit. In case anyone was thinking, I wasn't offended at all or anything.Meanwhile, MORE FILLER (And in case this is a double post, please pardon it, my internet is fucked up for some reason as well as my ps3 -__)

Nah you didn't srtart anything. I was just trying (and failing) to be humorous.

Hokay dokes, Soul and I are working on that post for you guys tonight and tomorrow, so stay tuned!

Aye, just got back into town, but I'm still here

Gonna have to possibly put that "Aye sir" activity-wise on hold, my grandfather passed today and it's going to take quite a bit for the pieces to be remotely picked up around here.

I'll check in and stuff, but writing...not so much.

AWWWWWW SNAP, LOOKS LIKE GATHERING IN ONE PLACE WAS A BAD IDEA. (lol)

Don't worry Gorzath will-! Oh. Wait. Nevermind...

*In between gasps* I…got it…done…critique away! *Falls over*

Name: Zaskar

Race: Argonian

Family Origins: Born to two Naga parents, who died just before he was hatched, Zaskar was raised by a merchant caravan, consisting primarily of Khajiit, with a handful of other races (most notably, at least concerning Zaskar, a Wood Elf, and a Redguard).

Appearance: Zaskar looks like your typical Naga, for the most part. Black scales cover him from head to tail, he’s long limbed with an equally long tail, he stands at 8 ft exactly, and he has an unusually large amount of teeth in his head. However, his eyes look decidedly unnatural. They’re larger than normal, and devoid of color. You can still clearly see the pupil, but the difference in color between the iris and the rest of the eye is almost indiscernible. His head has no feathers or horns. It is a smooth surface of scales.

Age: 29

Equipment:

-A long bow, with notches down half its length, specially made to suit his size. As such, it is much larger than your average bow.

-A Dwemer sword.

-An Elven dagger

-Leather armor

-Dwemer arrows
Misc:

-5 minor health potions.

-5 minor mana potions.

Favored Skills:

Highly Proficient

-Archery: Always a knack for Zaskar, his natural talent was transformed into deadly skill under the tutelage of his teacher, Colas.

Moderately Proficient

-One-handed: Amar, a Cathay-raht, insisted that he learn to defend himself from any attackers who get to close.

-Sneak: On the opposite end of the spectrum, Shivani supported the idea of ‘they can’t kill you if they can’t find you’

-Alteration: Derik, a master in this class of magic, was only able to depart some of his knowledge to Zaskar before they were unable to continue lessons.

-Unarmed: Amar also advocated being able to kill an enemy without a weapon. Especially if you have claws and a large mouth full of sharp teeth.

Somewhat Proficient

-Destruction: He has managed to pick up a little of this magic here and there from spell books, but not much.

Background:

Zaskar’s parents were Naga banished from their tribe. They ran to Skyrim, and when they reached the land of the Nords, they joined up with a Khajiit caravan needing guards. When asked where they came from, and what they were, his parents answered readily enough. However, when asked as to why they left, they only gave the basics. Any details were evaded or bluntly ignored. Overtime, the rest of the caravan learned to not inquire about it. For the most part, they got along well with the rest, if they were a bit isolated and distant. About two years after this, the caravan was attacked by bandits while they were camping in a Hammerfell desert. Zaskar’s parents burst from their tent (which they had been spending an ever increasing amount of time in over the last several months) at the alarm and rushed to defend the caravan. They were successful, but at the cost of their lives. When the rest of the group went to check their tent and divide up everything inside of it (for they had left no one specific to give it all too, and were not close enough to anyone for a safe guess on who they would want to get it), they found an egg. Or rather, the remains of an egg. In the midst of the fighting, Zaskar had hatched.

After several minutes of deliberation, the caravan leaders decided they couldn’t just leave the hatchling alone in the desert. Since no one knew anything about how Argonians named their children, they named Zaskar as they would a Khajiit child. While the entire caravan, if they so desired, would participate in raising him, four main care takers were selected. Amar a Cathay-raht and a guard of the caravan, Shivani an Ohmes-raht and a scout for the caravan, Colas a Bosmer archer, and Derik a recently picked up Redguard Alteration master. For the next 20 years of his life, these people would guide and shape Zaskar. This was his childhood, wandering around with the caravan, seeing more places when he was five than most people see in their entire lives. He displayed magical talent early on (specifically when he nearly burned down Shivani’s tent with sparks from his fingers and when he briefly created a light above his head in the middle of the night), and Derik began teaching him almost immediately after that. His concept of home wasn’t a stationary building, but rather an ever moving train of wagons. As he grew steadily larger and became more proficient with weapons and magic, he began to take on more defensive duties in the caravan.By the time he was seventeen he had reached his full height and couldn’t effectively use any of the bows Colas had. Luckily for Zaskar, they were passing through Bosmer, and were able to have one specially made for him, the one he carries to this day.

The years that the Aura existed above the lands are remembered bitterly by Zaskar. For the most part, when the Civil War erupted in Skyrim, the caravan had avoided trouble. But there was no avoiding the Aura. Overtime, the caravan began to become more and more divided. Some people began worshiping the Emperor. While others, Zaskar included, remained free of his influence. The end result was inevitable. One too many hot words were exchanged over the Emperor, one night in a forest in Cyrodil. Weapons were drawn and used in anger, and the caravan collapsed. The fighting rapidly dwindled from two sides battling to a confused free for all. Zaskar remembers little of it, just a blur of snarling and screaming and blades crashing together. He is unsure if there were any survivors other than himself, but he does know that the people closest to him are dead. He took the Dwemer sword from Amar, the Khajiit’s pride and joy. It wasn’t far from where he had fallen, his shield finally succumbing to axe blows. From Shivani he took her elven dagger. She had tried to run and got stabbed through the back for her trouble. Colas was beheaded, and Derik was impaled upon a spear.

Gathering what supplies and arrows he could, he stumbled from the ruins of the caravan. He hadn’t known where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t stay among the dead. It hadn’t taken him long to reach a fort. It took him even less time to slip up and mention to the Imperial soldiers that had stopped him that he disliked the Emperor right at that moment. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, they hadn’t kill him. Rather, they threw him in a hole in the ground. Literally, it was a small cell with only a trap door opening. When they closed the door, it only left a small sliver of light shining through. Too make matters worse, there was a wizard among them who put an enchantment on him. It nullified all of his senses except sight. For the duration of his imprisonment in that cell, Zaskar couldn’t smell, hear, feel, or taste anything. Not even the meals they gave him regularly. He had been grateful for that. It hadn’t looked particularly appetizing.

Zaskar doesn’t know how long he remained in that pit. The meals came periodically, but he had no way to tell if they came once a day or three times a day. The passage of time was made even more meaningless by the fact that he couldn’t feel pain, and couldn’t see anything in his cell. Eventually, being driven slowly insane by the utter lack of, well, anything he began to doubt that he existed. This was all just a prolonged dream of someone or something. He decided that if he was given sight in this near pitch black, he could reaffirm his belief in his existence. So he tried to cast a temporary Alteration spell on his eyes. Just long enough to let him see in this darkness. He lost control of the spell, and what should have been temporary resulted in a permanent change in his eyesight. It alleviated his fears, but only for a short while (it seemed to him at least. After all, he had no way to tell time). Soon he began to doubt again. However, before he could turn to more drastic means, the door to his cell was thrown wide open. Luckily for Zaskar, it was nearly pitch black outside. The heroes had just stopped the Aura, and chaos was raging outside.

A mob had attacked the fort, seeking to strike back against the Emperor. They had made it in with some help from some traitorous troops in the fort, and they were currently freeing all the prisoners and killing anyone in an Imperial uniform. Zaskar crawled out, and picked up a blade. All around him, chaos had been happening in utter silence. Men battled and died, their sounds never reaching his ears. The spell had still been going, clinging to him like a disgusting parasite. Luckily for him, the wizard who had enchanted him was right in front of him, having retreated from the angry mob and tripped over one of his fellow soldier’s corpses. Zaskar didn’t hesitate. The first thing he felt when the spell ended were hot blood pouring down on his hand, the screaming of the wizard as he died, and the stench of blood. After finding where they had stashed his gear, Zaskar made his way out of the fort that night.

The next few years of his life were spent learning to deal with his new eyesight, and wandering, looking for a new purpose. He picked up bits and pieces Dwemer metal while wandering in their ruins. He always liked the ruins better, despite their danger. They were darker than the outside world, and hurt his eyes far less. What little metal he found he had melted down into arrow heads, and those turned into arrows. It was pure bad luck that found him in *insert name of Hammerfell city we’re in*when the Dwemer conquered it. It was the purpose they created for him that he stayed in the city. He helped the rebellion as best he could, using his unique abilities to their fullest.

Fighting style: Zaskar typically stays at a range, firing arrows at opponents. Even when he’s out of arrows, he prefers to avoid being noticed by the enemy, trying to sneak behind them to slip a sword between the weak points in their armor, or slit their throats. He typically uses his Alteration to protect himself from attacks, and his meager destruction skills only when he has little choice.

Personality: Due to being raised primarily among a caravan of Khajiit, Zaskar has halfway picked up their way of referring to themselves in the third person. Sometimes he’ll unconsciously say ‘this one’ or his own name when referring to himself in one instance, and then switch back to ‘I’ and ‘me’ in the next. Likewise, unless you’ve done something major to make him like you a lot, he won’t stick his neck out to save you. Sure, if an enemy was trying to bash your skull in from behind, he’d shout a warning and fire an arrow at said enemy, but if you were about to be shot at by a Dwemer firing squad, he’d stay out of the way, rather than tackling you to safety. Other than that, he’s a fairly friendly and laid back individual. Due to his long imprisonment in near total darkness, and his subsequent loss of a measure of sanity, Zaskar has come to believe that as long as he kills something, he exists. He doesn’t have to kill something every day, and can even go weeks without this reaffirmation of his existence, but the longer he goes without killing something to prove he exists, the less moral inhibitions he has on who or what he’ll kill to prove it. He is also a strong believer in the idea that ‘blood can only be repaid with blood’.

Misc. Details: Do to his screw up with the spell while imprisoned, he can see in almost complete darkness. If there’s a source of light, he can see pretty well in it. However, he’s blinded by anything brighter than the dull glow of glow mushrooms, and even those hurt his eyes. Because of his, he pretty much constantly has an Alteration spell over his eyes during the daytime(and when the moon is too bright), dimming the things he sees way down, so he isn’t blinded.

Quickie pit stop to say hi, and Aye! Getting up close and personal with that latest post and this keyboard.

Anyone else affected by Guildlag? Kinda bugged. Kinda want to get crafty with cables and a craft knife.

Dusk said
Gonna have to possibly put that "Aye sir" activity-wise on hold, my grandfather passed today and it's going to take quite a bit for the pieces to be remotely picked up around here.I'll check in and stuff, but writing...not so much.

Aww Fallie <3 Truly saddened to learn of your recent hardship, my heartfelt condolences to you and your family.

Dusk said
Gonna have to possibly put that "Aye sir" activity-wise on hold, my grandfather passed today and it's going to take quite a bit for the pieces to be remotely picked up around here.I'll check in and stuff, but writing...not so much.

Hey, Fallout, just remember Dervs and I are here if you need to talk with anyone. I'll respect your privacy and just know we'll be here when you get back. Go and do what you need to.

Leidenschaft said
Hey, Fallout, just remember Dervs and I are here if you need to talk with anyone. I'll respect your privacy and just know we'll be here when you get back. Go and do what you need to.

This!

Ask Nyxie, I'm always willing to talk when times get rough. I've been down that hard road before, be strong!

You guys are wonderful <3 I'll be okay, friendy friends. Thank y'all

Rtron said Your CS

Dervs and I, over a discussion about your character found a few things still to be desired.

My first concern- Does the character have to be a Naga to work? This will be the central concern from which all others spring.

For one, Dervish and I found your personality a bit mixed up. This man is a killer going through an everlasting existential crisis that has turned him basically into what Rustin Cohle would call a metapsychotic. In your quest to make a Nietzschean ubermensch-minded, Beyond Good and Evil, Boethiah inspired independent assassin, you kind of got lost along the way and made Riddick the Freudian-Metapsychotic Naga Argonian. Sorry. Try researching what Boethiah is all about.

I would suggest looking at this for the Boethian angle you're going for or what I assumed you were going for.

To elaborate on the personality, he's a psychotic who has a modus operandi akin to a serial killer but he's kind and laid back. That's what we got from it. I can understand how being in the equivalent of a sensory deprivation chamber for a few months without breaks could fuck with someone's head, but they would be anything but nice and laid back. They'd be what you see on street corners today, wrapped in ragged clothing and sleeping under newspapers. Anything that makes you question reality that hard seriously fucks with you. I've seen it firsthand from someone who only spent hours in a similar situation to Zaskar and it ain't pretty. Two years ago and he still gets after-shocks from time to time. That's a story for a different time though.

That being said, if you change the personality, you'll have to change a good part of the backstory. That's the way things are. As it stands, Dervish brought up that he feels a lot of what happened to your character was made just to justify having those RIddick-like abilities.

We also caught something else, which was that he's an 8 foot tall lizard-man who specializes in stealth. I advise you change that. 8 foot tall things are rarely, if ever, stealthy.

And then, well, there's this. Dervs and I found this odd, and I kind of got disappointed knowing that this particular section came from someone who was involved, albeit for a very short time, with the first RP in this series to show such lack of research. Here it is.

Rtron said It was pure bad luck that found him in *insert name of Hammerfell city we’re in* when the Dwemer conquered it.

Look at the last few pages or posts. You don't even have to read it, just skim. It's easy, man. It starts with an H.

Also, some useful things to read when reading over my psycho-babble.

The medical definition of psychosis: "a symptom or feature of mental illness typically characterized by radical changes in personality, impaired functioning, and a distorted or nonexistent sense of objective reality."

Your character sounds like he's psychotic. Of course, that much was obvious already. I don't have to tell you this. But people with psychosis, as with many other psychological disorders or things of the same vein, like PTSD, come in varying degrees. For your character to want to kill people to reaffirm his existence while maintaining a "HO HO, TOP OF THE MORNING, PEEPS" kind of attitude is just something not found. He wouldn't be happy in the sense that you and I are happy when we beat that one fucking boss or find out our high school crush is willing to swap spit in the bathroom at prom. No. Oh no, he'd be manic if he felt any sort of happiness at all.

Put yourself in Zaskar's shoes. Imagine being stuck in a hole and reduced to nothing but a vague awareness, something that existed in a vacuum. The only something that existed in a void of nothing for months. A few months stuck in that whole could be very well be a thousand years, because that's what it feels like when you're in that state. It's terrifying, and then it comes, that point where you just accept it, the event horizon where you shed any memory of your existence in the flesh-shell that was you, or Zaskar. Then imagine the jarring transition into something you came to believe was a faded illusion at most. Furthermore, you feel you need to kill to know you exist. Most liekly, this would not be his reasoning. His reasoning may very well be, "This is fake. All of it. So why not do it? Nothing is real."

He would be anything but "a fairly friendly and laid back individual." He'd be depressed and racked with doubt about everything at best, unable to trust anyone and the simplest slip-up with reality could send him into a panic attack. It's terrible and terrifying.

A list of effects of your character's experiences. You should take these into account and you'll know why the character concept when applied with realism like how Dervs and I like is along the same lines as lycanthropy and vampirism. Fantasy universe or no, criminally psychotic is criminally psychotic.

Depersonalization: "Depersonalization (or depersonalisation) is an anomaly of self-awareness. It consists of a feeling of watching oneself act, while having no control over a situation.[1] Subjects feel they have changed, and the world has become vague, dreamlike, less real, or lacking in significance. It can be a disturbing experience, since many feel that, indeed, they are living in a "dream". Chronic depersonalization refers to depersonalization disorder, which is classified by the DSM-IV as a dissociative disorder."

Emotional Detachment: "Emotional detachment, in psychology, can mean two different things. In the first meaning, it refers to an "inability to connect" with others emotionally, as well as a means of dealing with anxiety by preventing certain situations that trigger it; it is often described as "emotional numbing" or dissociation, depersonalization or in its chronic form depersonalization disorder. In the second sense, it is a decision to avoid engaging emotional connections, rather than an inability or difficulty in doing so, typically for personal, social, or other reasons. In this sense it can allow people to maintain boundaries, psychic integrity and avoid undesired impact by or upon others, related to emotional demands."

The Naga bit: No, he doesn't have to be.

The rest of it: I see what you mean. What made sense to my sleep deprived mind is ridiculous in the light of day. I'll rewrite him, after I do a bunch of research and see if I can pull it off.

As for the Hammerfell thing I fully admit that was laziness on my part. And tiredness. But I apologise for it.

I'll report my progress regularly.

Rtron said
The Naga bit: No, he doesn't have to be.The rest of it: I see what you mean. What made sense to my sleep deprived mind is ridiculous in the light of day. I'll rewrite him, after I do a bunch of research and see if I can pull it off. As for the Hammerfell thing I fully admit that was laziness on my part. And tiredness. But I apologise for it.I'll report my progress regularly.

Good to know, I've provided some links within the critique for you to start with and branch off.

Leidenschaft said I've provided some links within the critique for you to start with and branch off.

Thanks.