Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by SirBeowulf
Raw
Avatar of SirBeowulf

SirBeowulf What a load of Donk.

Member Seen 2 yrs ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by Ashgan
Raw
Avatar of Ashgan

Ashgan

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by OneEyedChurro
Raw
Avatar of OneEyedChurro

OneEyedChurro Pam Grier's Fro

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by Laue
Raw
Avatar of Laue

Laue

Member Seen 8 yrs ago

Given Name: Maldron the Assassin


A typical ginger, Maldron is simply average. A guy you would pass on the street and pay him no attention. On a closer look, people always remember his amber eyes and freckles.

Equipment:
  • Mark of The Red Queen - Not equipment in literal sense, this distinctive brand on his hand resembles a beating human heart. There is something special about this brand, but Maldron can't remember what.
  • Black Leather Armor: A full set of studded black leather. Comfortable, sturdy and absolutely maddening during hot weather or after lot's of physical activity.
  • Grey linen robe: A simple, unassuming hooded robe with a single button in front. It hides Maldron's collection of venom and throwing daggers. It also doubles as a blanket, and is very useful at remaining unassuming.
  • Small cloth pouch: A small pouch where Maldron keeps small amounts of food. The bag reeks of metal, indicating it was once used to carry something else.
  • Dagger: A simple, yet reliable dagger hidden in his right sleeve.
  • Throwing Knives: Various buckles and straps on the front of his leather armor hold around 12 daggers meant for throwing, as well as several glass vials with unknown substances. His small arsenal is usually hidden from view by the robe.


Memories:
  • A group of people in black leather have him cornered. Maldron is still a kid, one of their money pouches in his hand. The men are grinning, and one of them is reaching his hand out to Maldron.
  • Maldron is sparring with kids similar to him, as men in black watch from the distance. Bruised, beaten and tired, they know they are not allowed to stop until they can no longer stand. He feels deep fear and respect for those people.
  • Maldron is a black room, kneeling, his hand held forward. Corpses and fresh blood surround him, blood dripping from his blade. The men in black approach him grinning, carrying a brand. Searing pain courses through his hand, as he hears their words: "From now on, you are Maldron, a weapon of unparalleled lethality".
  • Maldron, now in his black armor, is in front of a fountain. A fountain of blood. In the middle of this fountain is a throne, in it sits a pale woman, with a hole where her heart is supposed to be. The blood, defying all logic, is slowly moving towards where the woman's heart should be. The woman, an beauty beyond compare, with long, black hair. Maldron feels immense respect for her.
  • Maldron is in front of a throne. A man with long grey hair sits on it, with a grand, golden grown, expensive and colorful clothes. His throat is cut wide open, and he gurgles as blood gushes out. Around him are bodies of the King's guard. The throne room's floor is full of warm, red blood. Maldron feels absolutely nothing.
  • Maldron is running through a crowd. Behind him could be heard the clanging of metal and various shouts, like "Stop the assassin!. He still feels nothing. No fear, no excitement. He knows the path to safety, it is not the first time he took the guards for a chase.


Awakening:
Maldron finds himself in a grey wasteland, with massive, grey, stone-like trees towering above him. He could not remember how he got here, or who he actually was. Yet he felt nothing. As he stood up, he probed his mind for memories, but they were hard to find. What was left indicated him being an assassin named Maldron. Was he drugged? Was this another of their tests? Does it even matter? From the very few memories that were left, Maldron knew that he flirted with death way too many times to worry about it now. Just another mission, he reassured himself. That's all there was to it. Maldron is a weapon, and a weapon should not concern itself with the concept of self, nor ask the question "why". Whatever happened, whatever was ahead, it is not for him to wonder. His only reason to live is to end other lives, and this lifeless landscape must contain his next target.
Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by NewSun
Raw
GM
Avatar of NewSun

NewSun ᛏᚨᚲᛖ ᛗᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᚨᚱ ᛒᛖᛃᛟᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᚲᛚᛟᚢᛞᛋ

Member Seen 9 yrs ago

N P C C h a r a c t e r

The Turncloak Blade King
§


S t a t u s
Dead / Unknown




Here is a Man who shows not his face as he walks, and walk long and far does he. His armour is heavy and stifling, yet it phases him not. Few are graced with conversation with the Turncloak Blade, and fewer still are given the honour of traveling alongside him. He seems to have come from no place, and his memories are all but faded. Some say he is a wandering husk, ready to strike out against those who approach on a whim. Others disagree and say he is a gentle heart contained within an irremovable clad of cold steel. His halberd seems to be coated fresh with the blood of a new creature every day, whether the blood is of human or otherwise origin is not known to many.
Perhaps you have caught the glimpse of his footsteps amidst the dust, or perhaps you have even seen his suit glistening in the horizon, befallen by the thin, wintery light. He seems to have purpose and direction. Those wise souls who have been granted the chance to trace his steps would do well to take the opportunity. But do not anger this hulk of a Man, and do not push him. His blade hungers for the kill, and he is only so inclined to disregard that desire.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by DJAtomika
Raw
Avatar of DJAtomika

DJAtomika Second to Most

Member Seen 4 mos ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Nib
Raw
Avatar of Nib

Nib

Member Seen 3 mos ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Draconfound
Raw
Avatar of Draconfound

Draconfound Bringer of Pun

Member Seen 10 yrs ago

Given Name
Forgotten

Appearance
Forgotten is a young adult female, tall and thin and of slender features. Her skin is white and pale, her eyes a piercing green, and her hair jet black, long and straight, falling just below her waist. She wears a plain white gown that would be very familiar to anyone who has visited a modern hospital, a little torn and sordid near the bottom. The sleeves of this gown have been torn away and wrapped around her hands and lower arms, concealing a series of scars.

Equipment
A single, small knife, a plastic tray with a single meal on it, a woolen blanket, and a small wooden puzzle-box, its contents unknown as she has forgotten how to open it and refuses to destroy it.

Memories
-The knife she arrived with was used to inflict the injuries she bears on her arms
-The day before she died she attempted to kill herself, but failed
-She had three older sisters, and each of them was better than her at everything
-She can remember a storybook that her mother used to read her as a child, the story of a girl named Forgotten
-She can remember lying on the ground and sobbing after having been punched in the face
-She used to practice archery, and was pretty good at it

Awakening
In a moment of epiphany, the young woman made a sudden realization that filled her with warmth and love. Knowing that she had to tell her family, she quickly sat up in her bed and opened her eyes- except she wasn't in her bed, and her eyes showed her a far different place than that hospital in which she had fallen asleep. This place was grey and flat, the twilight landscape interrupted only by a few solemn spires of worn stone. Where was her- her- who was she looking for just now? She strained her mind but just couldn't remember who it was that she wanted to tell about... about what? It had just come to her, and she had already forgotten, she had forgotten so much, almost everything, just like the girl in the story book... Why could she still remember that? She could not remember her mother, but she could remember that. Was she the girl in the storybook? Was she Forgotten?
"I am Forgotten."
She said it aloud, and it seemed to... click. Even if that wasn't her name before, it certainly would be now.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by AliceInRedHeels
Raw
Avatar of AliceInRedHeels

AliceInRedHeels Looking for a White Rabbit In Oz

Member Seen 4 mos ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Komamisa
Raw
Avatar of Komamisa

Komamisa Retired Magical Girl

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by KuroTenshi
Raw

KuroTenshi

Member Seen 1 yr ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by Shienvien
Raw
Avatar of Shienvien

Shienvien Creator and Destroyer

Member Seen 26 days ago



Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by NewSun
Raw
GM
Avatar of NewSun

NewSun ᛏᚨᚲᛖ ᛗᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᚨᚱ ᛒᛖᛃᛟᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᚲᛚᛟᚢᛞᛋ

Member Seen 9 yrs ago

N P C C h a r a c t e r

The Rusted Knight


S t a t u s
ALIVE




He was a man once, wasn’t he? Possibly even a knight, but maybe he had just been a brigand who stole the now rusted armor and claymore. He was a man amongst the living with a life and a story… right? He resembled a man at the very least, although his skin was discolored and drawn tight over his bones from starvation, dehydration, and the many deaths he has suffered. Surely he could have not just been born to this land of death and misery, but there was nothing left of his life if there was a life before this land. Nothing… except for her and the bastard that had stolen her from him. She was his… she was his. HIS.

No… no, she wasn’t. Not anymore. He had stolen her from him, but how? How had he stolen her? Did he kill her or woo her? It was impossible to tell anymore. All he remembered was this land now, the blurred face of a woman and another man, but that bastard was in this land with him. He had reawakened him from his slumber slumped up against one of the petrified trees. He killed him, but his body vanished from beneath his boot. The bastard had returned though and managed to escape with only a gash on his side. Now he must stalk the bastard and make him suffer like he has suffered.

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Renny
Raw
Avatar of Renny

Renny S E A S O N E D

Member Seen 10 mos ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by Dark Jack
Raw
Avatar of Dark Jack

Dark Jack The Jack of Darkness

Member Seen 16 hrs ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by goodmorrowtou
Raw
Avatar of goodmorrowtou

goodmorrowtou Where da senpais b?

Member Seen 10 yrs ago



Muerice:
Hidden 10 yrs ago 10 yrs ago Post by bobert778
Raw
Avatar of bobert778

bobert778 Ancient Powers, / and Magic Flowers

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by NewSun
Raw
GM
Avatar of NewSun

NewSun ᛏᚨᚲᛖ ᛗᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᚨᚱ ᛒᛖᛃᛟᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᚲᛚᛟᚢᛞᛋ

Member Seen 9 yrs ago

N P C C h a r a c t e r

The Old Hermit Wanderer



S t a t u s
ALIVE


གཐ༸༧༦ག ༱༯༲གཐ༸ ཀྵོཋཨཧ༸ཬེ རཐ༸༦༧༲ག ཐ༸


༱གཬ ས༸༦༧ ༯༲གཐ༸ ས༱ཐ༸ཬེ ཨཧཀྵོཋ རཐ༸༦༧


An old man sometimes shows himself to the intrepid wanderers and those oftentimes considered lucky travellers of the poison lands. His name is known to very few, if any at all still remember it; instead he simply goes by an uncomplicated moniker such as 'The Hermit' or 'The Old Wanderer'. But it is an undoubted and unanimous understanding between all those he makes company with that he is not a man to be trifled with. Whether this is derived from the kindness he shows to his fellow lost souls, or from some other, more esoteric phenomena is unknown. His eyes are incredibly alive for a man of his age - he hobbles instead of walking - which some infer as the clarity of his mind after what one can only assume is a lifetime of being caged in a land such as this.
↑ Top
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet