Race: Mermaid changed into a human Apparent Age: Late teens, early twenties Actual Age: One hundred years old.
Appearance: Mira was and still is a young woman of traditional beauty. She has rosy skin with a scattering of freckles across the center of her face. High cheekbones and a finely shaped nose and lips along with long flowing hair. Deep and striking eyes which seem to shift between green and blue never truly settling for either. She is petite and has a womanly figure.
Profession: Pearl Diver
Possessions: A small silver knife, made to open oysters and other kinds of shellfish.
Skills/Magic/Talents: -Longevity: Mermaids can’t die from old age and despite being changed into a human many years ago Mira retained her longevity.
-Swimming: Mira is a great swimmer, a remnant of her life spent in the ocean. Shortly after she became human she discovered her natural talent for swimming and diving. When searching for oysters she can hold her breath for multiple minutes using special techniques while also being able to withstand the low temperatures of the sea water.
Singing: Another echo of her past life. Mira has a beautiful singing voice which she rarely uses. Only while she’s working she’ll sing to herself. The songs are often incredibly sad and filled with melancholy. There is something otherworldly about her voice that draws people in. If she wanted to she could probably provide for herself as a singer and make a decent living.
Demeanor: Mira is a very kind and gentle soul that wishes no harm to anyone, but there is a wistful sadness to her that often makes her seek out solitude. She’s been hurt deeply and hasn’t allowed herself to be very happy for much of her human life. She has a childlike curiosity about her which always makes her want to learn new things, yet there is a wisdom in her words of a life lived. A human life that is. She often speaks of things a seemingly young girl like herself couldn’t possibly have any idea about. She finds comfort in her work as a pearl diver and enjoys the quiet life in the coastal town she currently resides in.
History: Mira’s life as a mermaid is a distant memory, a past life. Her new life began when she became human. Of this life she remembers everything very clearly and its these memories that she returns to every time. She is a woman of the past, who longs for what was. The reason she wanted to become human was to be with a human. It was love at first sight and it filled her heart with joy. But life as she had imagined it turned out very different to what she’d expected. She had been very young and naïve and as a result she lived with regret for many years. She currently resides in a small town near the coast trying to live her life in peace, struggling with her past and a longing for a life she’s all but forgotten.
Actual Age: She isn't quite sure, but she guesses somewhere around 200 or so years old.
Appearance:
Profession: Florist / artist
Possessions: - an impressive collection of art supplies, mostly including pencils, brushes, and paints. - an old, silver saber.
Skills/Magic/Talents: - Advanced senses: Ein has an exceptional sense of hearing and smell, as well as keen reflexes and a surprising amount of agility and stamina, though she isn't too terribly strong, so it is mostly reserved for running. - Electrical Manipulation: Ein is able to generate a small amount of electrical shock. Its enough to stun a normal human, maybe even kill them if she tried, but anything further becomes too taxing on her body, so she avoids overdoing it. - Longevity: Jackalope age very slowly. One hundred years could pass and it'd merely feel like a decade or so for her. - Swordplay: Ein is half decent with a saber, though she can't entirely remember where she learned the skill from. - The arts: Ein has a good eye for aesthetics and is incredibly creative. Most practiced with pencils or paints-- prefers doing landscapes.
Demeanour: Ein is a reserved and calm person, rarely displaying her inner emotions and leans more on the cautious and independent side. She has a keen eye for detail, and isn't easily fooled or persuaded by others. Despite her more distrusting side, she often acts kindly and almost motherly towards others, and prefers to keep herself and those she is fond of out of direct conflict. Surprisingly, she has an oddly dark sense of humor, and can act quite playful if shes comfortable enough with someone.
History: Ein cant entirely remember when she became trapped in a human form, or even how exactly it happened to her. All she can really remember are a few vague memories of her life before and the undeniable feeling that this form is not her own. Despite being sure she wasn't originally human, she often doubts the foggy images in her head and the validity that they hold over her past existence. Since finding herself like this, she's taken up the quiet life of a artists and florist, residing in a small cottage located in the forests near the coast. It isn't too far from town, where she often travels to sell bouquets and assorted paintings. Though she spends most of her days reading history books or creating art in peace, she sometimes finds herself searching restlessly for clues to her past, unsettled by the blankness that blankets her memories.
Alright, I am still accepting new rpers but since we have a good number posting I will put us on free rotation. Just make sure two rpers have posted since your last post before posting again to keep it from getting too cluttered for now.
Alright noted ^.^ I'm excited for this and it was fun writing my first post. I'm looking forward to getting to know this character better and portray her as I invisioned her.
Appearance: To those who cannot see she appears to be just a woman with long brown hair.
Profession:She's an herbalist
Possessions: A book of different plants random pouches
Skills/Magic/Talents: Navigation, great with many animals, magical plant growing abilities, can help or doom lost travelers.
Demeanour: Otelia is usually fairly carefree. She loves to dance, sing, and most forms of merry-making. She despises rude people but has a fascination with people who can play music. She also loves shiny things and most foods. Otelia might be awkward around people, but they mostly chalk it up to her spending most of her time in the forest gathering herbs.
History: Speaking of the forest, her spending so much time there helps her retain some of her memory. She is aware of what she is, but there isn't much to remember. She has spent most of her life in the forest, and come across random travelers at times. However she can't seem to recall any note worthy events.
@SomethingClever She looks good, I just have one question. Does she try to hide what she is like most of the mythical do and purposely keep hidden as a human? Or does she just rely on them not believing enough and just see her as nothing special?
Possessions: (1) Hardened leather armor of an outlandish design. (2) A dark elf falchion that has been passed down his family for generations; it makes a keening cry as it cuts the air which most people find disconcerting. (3) A chipped talisman inscribed with the seal of his clan. (4) A satchel with food and a few coins of varied materials.
Skills/Magic/Talents:
Venomous Gaze: When Mazen activates this ability, making eyes contact with an enemy can give them a paralyzing sense of terror, but it can only be used on one person at a time.
Earth Meld: Mazen can disappear into nature, melding with anything from trees to rocks, to disguise his presence.
Dark Elf Senses: Mazen has great night vision and a keen sense of smell and, to a lesser extent, hearing.
Dark Elf Swordsman: Mazen is skilled with a sword, and has trained with techniques known only to his people.
Demeanor: Mazen moves with the tension of a coiled spring, carrying himself like a predator wary of ambush. Despite that, any experienced swordsman or martial artist who laid eyes on Mazen would see that he has a grace to his stride which only comes from vast self-assurance.
History:
Mazen was born amidst a small clan of his people in a swamp that they had dwelt in for time beyond reckoning. His people were withered, but proud. When humans expanded into their swamp, clearing away vegetation to plant more crops, they two peoples did not take kindly to one another. Hunters contracted by the humans set about capturing or exterminating the remaining dark elves, a fate which Mazen narrowly escaped. He has spent the many years since on the road, escaping persecution through both violence and cunning, as he searches for the remaining clans of his people.
In the few instances he has encountered those who saw through his inhuman heritage to the skill beneath, he has accepted work as a bodyguard when the price was right.
@Guilty Spark It looks good, so we have a first mythical that doesn't hide. This should prove interesting. Feel free to move to the cs page and make an intro post.
Name: "Jericho Kaite" (Kaitra J. Elzbrn) Race: Half-Elf Apparent Age: 25 Actual Age: 45
Current Profession: Marauding Black Knight Equipment -Steel roundshield (blacksteel front with signs of a crest that had been pried out and filed down to unrecognizable scuffs) -Masterwork longsword -Silver shortsword (sheathed in shield) -The remnants of The Black Knight of Ispar's Thornplate and shield
Left-Handed - Most combat styles are meant to combat against right-handed wielders. The left-handed combat style can sometimes catch humanoid-type opponents off guard.
Hearty- Being born and raised in the cold of Ispar, Kaite has undergone strenuous sparring and is disciplined to shrug off most superficial injuries as well as hosting a stark resiliency to cold. Kaite is surprisingly strong and agile for her build (You won't see her doing much acrobatics, but a 1v1 fight is greatly discouraged)
Elven lineage- Elves learn at a young age of their detachment from the dreamlands. Forced to enter a trance state to sort their emotions and memories, Kaitra has retained a firm hold of her memories. = Eyes rapidly adjust to lower light settings although pitch black is still pitch black.
Brawler Stance- While Kaite is most lethal with a shortsword in her offhand, she often substitutes with her shield to serve the purpose of a weapon as well as its obvious defensive advantages. By assailing foes with stunning bashes and punishing punches with the spiked pommel of the lock-sheathed shortsword, the greatest threat remains to be the keen edge of her longsword...assuming her enemies can stay focused long enough to defend themselves from the rapid and calculated vorpal stabs.
Skirmisher Stance- Drawing her shortsword after latching her shield to her backplate (Covers the shoulderplates and up, connecting to her pauldrons(The addition of the shield protects her flank)), she often opens engagements with this stance with powerful sweeping strikes with her longsword and following up with offhand slashes to punish reeling foes. Of this stance, her favourite tactic is to catch unwary or underprepared targets with a flurry of stabs in the hopes of overwhelming the target and ending the encounter as quickly as possible. Capitalizing on deep strikes, Kaite often follows up with stunning shoulder/hip(or pecks from her visor) bashes which utilize her armor's spikes before aiming to finish the fight with a full-body slash from both weapons, simultaneously.
Demeanor: Brave if not a pinch foolhardy, Kaitra's chosen exile and lack of meaningful communication in the process has made her a little socially awkward. Slow to get jokes, though toting her own morbid sense of humor combined with the way she carries herself, she can be unintentionally off-putting at times. She believes herself to be on the side of good, although the long term manipulation from her cursed armor has done wonders to skew how she perceives the world. Aimless and hopeless are words worth mentioning; without family, home or reason, her mission to 'redeem' herself has led her into fairly unsavory endeavors that left her callused to the main staples of chivalry. The guilt, shame and ensuing isolation led to her eventual fall and possession by her armor.
There began a legend in the frozen reaches of the province of Ispar some twenty years ago; a romance between a scholar of renown and a blacksmith. I remember watching mother train father with the sword. Sometimes the bark of wooden swords upon each other would wake me in the morning and I would watch their dance. He wasn't much, physically, heh...but he loved to cheat. With his magic, that is. The air would ripple as what would cost him the duel turned into flourishes that mother wasn't even capable of. Love bound them, even after my brother was killed by the guard over petty theft. I didn't see much of father after that, and one day, he simply never returned. Mother told me that he had left to settle the score with the man who put my brother up to the task. Soon afterwards, she wished for me to let her train me to be as good of a knight as father had come to be, so that I may use it to do good unto the world where evil would manifest as your friend from birth... I'd received my fair share of lumps and scratches from training, but I wore them like medals. I knew what I was doing, and so did the guard who thought I could benefit more from 'proper' training. Unlike my classmates, my first kill didn't come until it was far too late for me to learn the weight of my actions.
There was a rumor of a man clad in ebony black steel who wielded both sword and magic to accost students who hoped to make pilgrimage to the universities of Ispar. Convinced that the lead I had was solid, I hunted the rogue knight. I was certain, at first, that is was just a spook story of a bandit chieftain...until I was knee deep in my men's blood and charred remains. Every swing the man took was deliberate and calculated, though I was never harmed. This was a mistake I capitalized on...and a mistake on my end which proved to be my own undoing. There did lie in the suit of steel, my father. I was so foolish, barely over myself to be able to hear anything he said. Angry, ashamed...I rejected him in the moment. I'm sure he had a reason for his actions. Rage against the town and wanting to ward off travelers in the hopes to cripple the economy? Senile descent? Inlaced evil? Some combination? Before I could collect myself enough to ask, he was gone...leaving me in a field of scarlet-stained snow and a half tattered suit of my father's armor. I stole what I could...and that's how the story truly ends. There was no heroic death and sacrificing of a maiden soul to appease a demonic debt. No heads on pikes...and no songs that could do the event justice. The mystery simply left with me, and my ice and snow veil the truth forever. Her travels from port would lead Kaite through various odd jobs dealing with bandits along the way where her craft was more thoroughly honed. Ultimately, she seeks redemption for a family name she has long since abandoned. Lack of most motivation, she's partially given in to the will of the armor to seek out challenges. Wherever they may hide, and wherever her subconscious can be manipulated to look.
Name: The Black Knight of Ispar Encounter: Frost leeches the green from the flora of the clearing where a lone figure stands, leveling a sword in slow but deliberate motions. With the crunch of icy dew underfoot, the figure sways drunkenly, abandoning their stance to contort. Leaning back, the glint of blue teases a hint of the knight's features before narrowing their eyes to a glare before their visor snaps shut on its own. A popping noise resonates from the trees and the ground, itself, as the frost that once permeated the area pulls up their greaves and coats their armor. Branches fall from the mangled trees having been exposed to the snap frost and what had once been an albeit lush section of the forest rapidly wilts and dies in the process. Their body follows the motions as they turn towards the group, clanging their sword against their shield with a dull chime. The frost blows away in a soft cloud of steam which traces along a nearly invisible cuirass that begins to manifest as an ink-black aura, distorting the air around them as they raise their sword and shield and approach to engage. The darkness from the cuirass spreads across the rest of the figure which steeps wisps of black mist. "P-please...please stay back..." they groan in a hopeless tone layered with over-recited lethargy.
Moves Aggrieve - The knight opens the engagement after being acknowledged by their target with a charge leading up to a concussive shield bash aided by the spikes of their armor to separate the most intimidating challenger from the others. This may be followed up with wide swings to attempt to antagonize as much of the party as they can reach. While not very powerful and shaky with a lack of motivation, the sword is still quite sharp.
Echos of Guilt - While magic still does damage to the Knight, the spirits in the armor feed off of magic essence to the point of being released in a close blast of darkness and frost. This is mostly focused in a wide cone from their shield focused on nearby melee combatants and is followed up by 'Accost'.
Accost - Towards the middle of the fight, the Knight tosses their shield into the air, grabbing the handle of the sword sheathed in the shield. From here they single out a healer or nearest caster (or any that resonate with divine energy) to pitch the shield at in the attempt to disorient them long enough to set up for a full-body uppercut from their longsword. The move leaves the Knight open while recovering from their own swing, although now they are in their preferred stance.
Eol Repth - Towards the end of the fight, the mist blows away into a localized fog for 1 round before being drawn in, healing the Knight. However, this exposes the cuirass...and the eye in the middle of its chest. Defeating the armor by utilizing the weak spot banishes the spirit, releasing its hold on Kaitra.
A meek amount of life is pushed back into the terrain. It will take time, but maybe the scar of this day will be healed by nature's perseverance. Abandoned by her power, rejecting her for her defeat, Kaitra is weakened until able to 'prove herself' to the armor. This is a process that may never happen, again.