@Cat
So glad we have a Corvi. My character might need a Corvi.
So glad we have a Corvi. My character might need a Corvi.
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[OOC] Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN] Page 9
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@Jeyma I couldn't resist creating a Corvi.
Now I'm interested to see what your character is going to be like!
Now I'm interested to see what your character is going to be like!
coGM
@Jeyma So in other words, he's an overly melodramatic diva? 
Anyway, on a more serious note... He sounds fantastic! I anticipate a deep and tragic past?
I'm debating on whether my Corvi should be a fickle and quietly intellectual creature, or literal birdbrain who would follow you to the end of the Earth if you had so much as a scrap of food.
Anyway, on a more serious note... He sounds fantastic! I anticipate a deep and tragic past?
I'm debating on whether my Corvi should be a fickle and quietly intellectual creature, or literal birdbrain who would follow you to the end of the Earth if you had so much as a scrap of food.
coGM
@Jeyma So in other words, he's an overly melodramatic diva?
Anyway, on a more serious note... He sounds fantastic! I anticipate a deep and tragic past?
Yes, exactly, only he's sorta the antagonist in his own past: it wasn't something anyone else did that's tragic, it's what HE did that can't be escaped. Guilt is more powerful than grief.
But I don't know... it'll make sense when you read it.
I'm debating on whether my Corvi should be a fickle and quietly intellectual creature, or literal birdbrain who would follow you to the end of the Earth if you had so much as a scrap of food.
I think we already have a resident "birdbrain who would follow you to the end of the Earth if you had so much as a scrap of food." @SanaChan's Sybil Nightwind acts like that towards her companion: super loyal, afraid to disappoint, kind of innocent, etc.
I don't believe we have any fickle intellectuals, though.
Well, Sybil's companion Daewyn is an intellectual but I didn't get the "flip-flop genius" feel off of him.
coGM
Behold, my C.S.!
@Emuxe
Sorry for the length. I like to go all out on character sheets, loaded with details and too much drama. But don't worry, my posts will probably be short, plain and simple by comparison. :)
Note: if you're wondering what a "Fleshspinner" is, the information is found under "Special ability/ies" in unnecessary levels of detail.
Full Name:
Shertul the Unnatural. He outlived his family long ago. No more reason to keep his tribal name, outside of useless sentiment.
Age:
81, though it is impossible to detect his age by appearance. No wrinkles, no damage, no aging. Most Fleshspinners live well into their hundreds, or even their thousands.
Gender:
"He" was once a man. No more. His reproductive organs are now dead and useless- furthermore, it's impossible to title any of his features as male or female.
Birth Date:
The eleventh day of the tenth month.
Race:
Born humani, but now he is no more a human than he is a male. Race, gender, sex, age- it is all irrelevant to a Fleshspinner. They are only terms used to describe minuscule physical differences, which become vestigial as soon as one learns to change their makeup.
Alignment:
Neutral, but leaning strongly towards Revenant. At the least, you will never see him become a Nephlim.
Hair Colour:
No hair needed.
Eye Colour:
The art of Transcendent Flesh is as of yet far beyond Shertul, but he has learned to shift coloration at will. The shade of his eyes are unpredictable. That being said, he tends to gravitate towards pink and grey.
Face Shape:
Shertul prefers to wear a grossly over-sized black cloak in public, to hide his extraneous limbs, but it isn't so easy to cover a face without drawing the very attention one seeks to ignore. His skull, therefore, looks to be almost elfish, riddled with sharp features, angular dives and dagger ears, topped off by an up-pointed knife of a nose. It is a cruel face, a dangerous face.
When asked, he likes to tell people he is only half humani. Most assume the other half is elf. He doesn't bother to correct them.
Though he has a third eye, for seeing magically, he has shaped it so that it blends-in when closed. And though his Fleshspinner symbol is proudly exposed, few outside of magical circles can identify it. The red crown is usually assumed to simply be a complex tattoo.
Skin Tone:
A very pale, off-white shade covers most of Shertul's body, while an intricate and interwoven crown of red stripes adorns his forehead like a tattoo. At the center of the sanguine "crown", staring out above his middle eye, is the symbol of the Fleshspinners:
Height:
5'2 feet tall, or roughly 155 centimeters. But he prefers to dip down on all six limbs when not in public.
Weight:
100 pounds / 45 kilograms
Body Type:
Slender but toned: the body of a predator, for running after prey in short bursts like a lion, or long hunts as a wolf.
Natural Markings:
None. All birthmarks and blemishes were long ago removed, in par with Fleshspinner tradition: "Let your body be immaculate, and without blemish, to show for all your perfection in flesh."
Scar(s):
None. As with natural marks, scars are quickly healed over to hide any evidence of flaw.
Tattoo(s):
None. Noticing a pattern? Fleshspinners simply change coloration, if they desire to mark themselves, as Shertul has done with the symbol upon his forehead.
3 Words:
Guilt-ridden, introspective, moody.
Like(s):
Shertul loves all magic. To him, it is the true source of power in this world. It would not surprise him at all to discover that Alithe and Raziel are simply embodiments of magical energy.
Outside of the mystical, he holds a deep respect for the dwarves and their crafts. They, along with humani, are the only race he truly holds as equals.
Dislike(s):
The whole idea of nature. Fleshspinners are often titled "unnatural" by those who consider themselves upright, and so it's no surprise that many of Shertul's kind have simply abandoned that entire bloated concept. This spreads into his views on the treants and elves, plus fuels his abhorrence of those who foolishly believe that forests and jungles should be protected as any more than a resource. There is nothing spiritual or special about a forest: it's simply a collection of plants trying to survive, the same as any living creature.
It can also be fairly said that he is not too fond of centaurs, fae and elementals.
He also doesn't like pets. The only animals you shouldn't eat are children.
Want(s):
To escape his past, to convince himself that Rayu was wrong- that the Monastery is simply a place of magical study, and that it is no abomination to be what he is.
Deep down, though, there is another ambition which he will not admit to any except himself: to finally abandon his concerns and his search to return to the Monastery, to the only place on this world that has ever been called home.
Fear(s):
That Rayu wasn't wrong, that he's already sold his soul to the Revenants. If his life must lead him to that path, he can imagine a world where he does willingly swear himself to Alithe, but he must know that it was willingly. He cannot bear the idea of those years at the Monastery having been all for his recruitment. The thought makes him shudder. But it also sparks an idea.
He is near to mastery of Flesh: he lacks only the most advanced of the most advanced techniques. He's certain he could teach others the art as his masters taught him; he could create his own Monastery, further from the wastelands and un-plagued by the foul shade demons. He may even gather together with other out-cast wizards and wanderers of different magical schools, to add further knowledge. A true, unaligned institute for true, unaligned magic. Such places have existed before and certainly some continue to exist now, but none teach Fleshspinning outside the Monastery.
Colour(s):
Pink, white, gray, black.
Time of Day:
The nighttime hours most in-between dusk and dawn. He has a habit of watching the stars, and the cool weather is nice in the frequent humidity of a land like Terra.
Food:
Everything! Maintaining the extra limbs, magical eyes and ears, poison and disease immunity, blatantly ignoring all the laws of biology... it's a lot of energy. He needs unholy amounts of food to keep up. Starvation is a very real threat.
Animal:
The one he is eating.
Place in Terra:
The wastelands around the Monastery. The emptiness lends a strange peace, especially on quiet nights.
Special ablilty/ies:
Shertul is what most call a "Fleshspinner": wizards who have forsaken spell-casting, instead focusing their magic on twisting the shape of their own bodies.
Shertul spent decades in meditation, slowly changing his body. His bones have gotten both harder and lighter, his skin smoothed out, his hair fell out, his senses became attuned to the flow of magic throughout the world so that he can literally hear and see it, he grew a working pair of gills, he developed clawed and webbed fingers, and perhaps most surprising, he sprouted a full set of extra arms. He could suddenly move with lightening speed and strength.
The only organs he could not develop were wings. Most Fleshspinners create wings for themselves at some point, but Shertul never could. He earnestly tried, for years upon years, yet flight never came. He still looks on Corva and Air Elementals with a bitter jealousy.
Unfortunately, the lifetime of devotion spent creating his flesh as it is now equally means that he cannot easily change it again. While he heals with indomitable speed, truly growing new limbs or changing the chemical makeup of his body would still take months or years for every change. Fleshspinning is an endlessly patient process.
And, of course, all this comes at a cost: the slow change is also a painful one. Without herbal medication (read: potions), the pain becomes overwhelming. Furthermore, Shertul can never use healing magic or have it applied to him, as the healing energies will attempt to "heal" his extra limbs and organs, slowly reverting him back to a normal humani. An eighty-one years old normal humani.
Adding insult to injury, he must eat constantly. While Shertul has always been thin and short, all that he has added to his body by magical needs forces him to consume even more food than a "natural" being would. In a sense, he's feeding the magic as much as he's feeding himself. Starvation is a constant, all-encompassing threat whenever he takes the risk of leaving civilization. Even a day without food would be incapacitating, and two would mean certain death.
On the bright side, if he doesn't starve to death or allow himself to be "healed", he'll live forever.
Shertul's origin may sound odd to those who spawn from the lush forests and gentle streams of Raziel's land, but for the few who take residence in the Wastes, it is a common story.
He was born to a tribe of wandering nomads. No destination. No origin that anyone can remember. They traveled in path with the few prey animals that survived in the desolation of Alithe's lands, living out of animal-skin tents and simple spears.
It was a rough life. Nobody grew fat, nobody grew old; some didn't grow up. Shertul was small. They all knew he would not survive.
The day his fate changed was the day he saw it on the horizon: a fortress of dark spires, rising proudly over the wastes. It was surrounded by shadow demons, even more than normal for the Wastelands, and a strange, totally indescribable aura was felt from it. His young eyes, only a decade old, had never see anything like it. So powerful, so frightening. He's hands latched to his mother. She saw his fear and tried to comfort him, but she didn't hide the truth.
It was at that young age he learned of the Monastery of Flesh, a institution altogether glorious and terrifying. His tribe explained to him that it was a city of magical "abominations", thousands of them, living unnatural lives that could lead only to destruction.
The more she said, though, the less Shertul heard. He was already entranced. Before the spires were even out of site, he was begging to join. His child's mind couldn't understand their objections. It sounded like a warm place, with food to spare and beds to rest and magic to entrance.
Most parents won't understand what his mother did next.
She let him go. Not because he was ready, and certainly not because she changed her mind about the Monastery, but because she knew it was the only real chance he had at a life. Not a normal life, to be sure, but a life better than feeding on scraps out in the waste.
When he arrived, two monks were already waiting on him. Their mutated eyes had seen him coming a mile away. They introduced him to the masters of the Monastery, who explained to him what this place truly was. The people there, the "monks", learned a macabre magic forbidden in other realms: Fleshspinning. The name alone almost made Shertul vomit, but he stomached it and listened.
It was a very old order, a very strange one, that taught to keep magic wholly contained within yourself. Fleshspinner's bodies literally traps the mystic energies like a cage, soaking them up to infuse it right into their own flesh. In this manner, they can forcibly alter their bodies in a myriad of ways. They can grow new limbs, wings, gills, and more. They can harden or soften their skin, and learn to perceive with senses lost on all others.
It frightened the young Shertul, but it was already far too late to catch up with his tribe. He had to stay, like it or not.
Before he could become a wizard, however, he had to become a scholar. He had to learn.
Reading and writing were lost arts on his people, but the Monastery educated him. They showed him what civilization meant. How could he not be loyal? So when the day came that he was offered the choice- either become a Fleshspinner or leave the Monastery forever, alone- he threw away his tribe's warnings and accepted without a thought.
From then, the years flew by. Shertul discovered that time moves differently for an immortal. Months were the blink of an eye. Years meant nothing.
But even in the blur of immortal life, he met a companion who's nature complimented his own: Rayu. She was, like him, raised in a life nothing like the Monastery. The similarities ended there, but sometimes opposites attract.
Fleshspinners rarely reproduce. Their relationship was not sexual. But it was emotionally intense, in a way that can only be related to by those who have endured those friendships that last decades. Shertul honestly believed that he could never betray her.
But he could.
On one night like any other, Rayu and Shertul were looking out a window when a light appeared on the horizon. White. Blinding. It was growing brighter. Screams sounded off. Shadow demons flocked to it like sparrows. What could have only been a few seconds (but felt like hours) went past before Shertul could see clearly. A Nephilim had found itself surrounded in the Wastelands, and it was hardly a shock that that the Shades were feeding.
It was a shock when one of the Monastery masters, named Erison, leaped from the window to join in on the fight. There was no warning. The master simply ran to the Nephlim and began tearing into it like a beast. The shades held it to the ground while the Fleshspinner ripped it apart.
When the melee cleared enough for Rayu and Shertul to finally tear their eyes away, he was surprised to find her angry. It took him hours to get the answer out of her, but apparently, Rayu was infuriated that a master Fleshspinner would get involved with the Nephilim/Revenant war.
"It wouldn't be a problem," she said, "except... remember Vona?"
Shertul nodded. Vona was a high-ranking Fleshspinner who, a few years prior, had been banished from the . The reason cited was "It is improper for a flesh-mage to enter into a religious war." But if that's the case, why was the Monastery overlooking Erison's unprovoked attack on a Nephilim? Why was he not banished?
He tried to calm her down, but Rayu just went on and on about it, and the more she ranted the angrier she made herself. She told the Fleshspinner leaders, but nothing was done. Even Shertul didn't seem to care (and he didn't- what a Spinner does on his own time is nobody else's business).
It came to a head two weeks later. Consumed with conviction that the Fleshspinners were just a magical arm of the Revenants, and the entire student-body was secretly being recruited, Rayu stole away dozens of irreplaceable scrolls and books from the library. She told Shertul in a hushed whisper that she would flee to the forests of Terra, or perhaps the home of the Corva. There, with no Revenants or Fleshspinners or master Erisons to stop them, him and her could build a new place of flesh-magic: a true, unaligned institute for true, unaligned learning.
Her eyes were so bright with hope, but Shertul's stayed as cold as stone.
He only said one word, "No", and her heart was broken. Still, it wouldn't be enough. He couldn't let her betray the Monastery of Flesh. He couldn't let throw everything they had away.
And so, with a heart full of guilt and hands shaking with trepidation, he betrayed out his only friend. He told the Monastery masters. Shertul was assured by them many times: something would be done, he had nothing to worry about, just go to sleep and let the masters speak to Ruya themselves.
When he awoke, the morning sun was streaming peacefully through the narrow windows, and his closest love's blood was splattered on the walls. She was gone. Rips of the stolen scrolls littered across the floor.
Ask as he might, many times, the masters would never tell him what happened. Did she live? Did she die? Did she fight them first, or was she attacked in cold blood? He could feel his dear masters growing in hostility with each question. He had only two choices left: live in peace, never knowing what became of Ruya and if she's even alive, or flee and search for her alone.
The Monastery was everything to him, but he couldn't stay there, haunted by the ghost of Rayu. If she was wrong about the Monastery, he could forgive himself. But if she wasn't? If she survived the attack, he could forgive himself. But if she didn't?
He had to know. He left his home, in search of the lands he knew she would move to if her flesh was still moving.
Shertul hasn't forgotten what happened at the Monastery, nor can he, until he discovers the truth. Either he'll find Rayu out in the world, or his journeys will finally teach him the wisdom to forgive himself. Until then, he's cursed by guilt to keep looking for a friend he may never find.
He has been in the forest for a long time now. Longer than he can remember. Longer than he wants to remember. Occasionally, he comes across a fae or elven or centaurian habitat, and they'll allow him to stay for a day or two. But he can never linger- they will eventually find out what he is, why he's there.
So he keeps his feet moving and his ears open.
(I never really post more than 3 paragraphs- I just happen to like making a 25,000 character C.S.)
So what do y'all think? Criticisms and opinions are welcome, but be gentle
@Emuxe
Sorry for the length. I like to go all out on character sheets, loaded with details and too much drama. But don't worry, my posts will probably be short, plain and simple by comparison. :)
Shertul
Note: if you're wondering what a "Fleshspinner" is, the information is found under "Special ability/ies" in unnecessary levels of detail.
Basic Information
Full Name:
Shertul the Unnatural. He outlived his family long ago. No more reason to keep his tribal name, outside of useless sentiment.
Age:
81, though it is impossible to detect his age by appearance. No wrinkles, no damage, no aging. Most Fleshspinners live well into their hundreds, or even their thousands.
Gender:
"He" was once a man. No more. His reproductive organs are now dead and useless- furthermore, it's impossible to title any of his features as male or female.
Birth Date:
The eleventh day of the tenth month.
Race:
Born humani, but now he is no more a human than he is a male. Race, gender, sex, age- it is all irrelevant to a Fleshspinner. They are only terms used to describe minuscule physical differences, which become vestigial as soon as one learns to change their makeup.
Alignment:
Neutral, but leaning strongly towards Revenant. At the least, you will never see him become a Nephlim.
Appearance
Hair Colour:
No hair needed.
Eye Colour:
The art of Transcendent Flesh is as of yet far beyond Shertul, but he has learned to shift coloration at will. The shade of his eyes are unpredictable. That being said, he tends to gravitate towards pink and grey.
Face Shape:
Shertul prefers to wear a grossly over-sized black cloak in public, to hide his extraneous limbs, but it isn't so easy to cover a face without drawing the very attention one seeks to ignore. His skull, therefore, looks to be almost elfish, riddled with sharp features, angular dives and dagger ears, topped off by an up-pointed knife of a nose. It is a cruel face, a dangerous face.
When asked, he likes to tell people he is only half humani. Most assume the other half is elf. He doesn't bother to correct them.
Though he has a third eye, for seeing magically, he has shaped it so that it blends-in when closed. And though his Fleshspinner symbol is proudly exposed, few outside of magical circles can identify it. The red crown is usually assumed to simply be a complex tattoo.
Skin Tone:
A very pale, off-white shade covers most of Shertul's body, while an intricate and interwoven crown of red stripes adorns his forehead like a tattoo. At the center of the sanguine "crown", staring out above his middle eye, is the symbol of the Fleshspinners:
Height:
5'2 feet tall, or roughly 155 centimeters. But he prefers to dip down on all six limbs when not in public.
Weight:
100 pounds / 45 kilograms
Body Type:
Slender but toned: the body of a predator, for running after prey in short bursts like a lion, or long hunts as a wolf.
Natural Markings:
None. All birthmarks and blemishes were long ago removed, in par with Fleshspinner tradition: "Let your body be immaculate, and without blemish, to show for all your perfection in flesh."
Scar(s):
None. As with natural marks, scars are quickly healed over to hide any evidence of flaw.
Tattoo(s):
None. Noticing a pattern? Fleshspinners simply change coloration, if they desire to mark themselves, as Shertul has done with the symbol upon his forehead.
Personality:
3 Words:
Guilt-ridden, introspective, moody.
Like(s):
Shertul loves all magic. To him, it is the true source of power in this world. It would not surprise him at all to discover that Alithe and Raziel are simply embodiments of magical energy.
Outside of the mystical, he holds a deep respect for the dwarves and their crafts. They, along with humani, are the only race he truly holds as equals.
Dislike(s):
The whole idea of nature. Fleshspinners are often titled "unnatural" by those who consider themselves upright, and so it's no surprise that many of Shertul's kind have simply abandoned that entire bloated concept. This spreads into his views on the treants and elves, plus fuels his abhorrence of those who foolishly believe that forests and jungles should be protected as any more than a resource. There is nothing spiritual or special about a forest: it's simply a collection of plants trying to survive, the same as any living creature.
It can also be fairly said that he is not too fond of centaurs, fae and elementals.
He also doesn't like pets. The only animals you shouldn't eat are children.
Want(s):
To escape his past, to convince himself that Rayu was wrong- that the Monastery is simply a place of magical study, and that it is no abomination to be what he is.
Deep down, though, there is another ambition which he will not admit to any except himself: to finally abandon his concerns and his search to return to the Monastery, to the only place on this world that has ever been called home.
Fear(s):
That Rayu wasn't wrong, that he's already sold his soul to the Revenants. If his life must lead him to that path, he can imagine a world where he does willingly swear himself to Alithe, but he must know that it was willingly. He cannot bear the idea of those years at the Monastery having been all for his recruitment. The thought makes him shudder. But it also sparks an idea.
He is near to mastery of Flesh: he lacks only the most advanced of the most advanced techniques. He's certain he could teach others the art as his masters taught him; he could create his own Monastery, further from the wastelands and un-plagued by the foul shade demons. He may even gather together with other out-cast wizards and wanderers of different magical schools, to add further knowledge. A true, unaligned institute for true, unaligned magic. Such places have existed before and certainly some continue to exist now, but none teach Fleshspinning outside the Monastery.
Favourite...
Colour(s):
Pink, white, gray, black.
Time of Day:
The nighttime hours most in-between dusk and dawn. He has a habit of watching the stars, and the cool weather is nice in the frequent humidity of a land like Terra.
Food:
Everything! Maintaining the extra limbs, magical eyes and ears, poison and disease immunity, blatantly ignoring all the laws of biology... it's a lot of energy. He needs unholy amounts of food to keep up. Starvation is a very real threat.
Animal:
The one he is eating.
Place in Terra:
The wastelands around the Monastery. The emptiness lends a strange peace, especially on quiet nights.
Skills and Attributes
Skills
Special ablilty/ies:
Shertul is what most call a "Fleshspinner": wizards who have forsaken spell-casting, instead focusing their magic on twisting the shape of their own bodies.
-
-
-
Note: This is really long and poorly written, so don't feel obligated to read it all. This is basically what happens when I shit on my keyboard
Unlike other wizards, Fleshspinners keep their magic wholly contained within themselves. Their body literally traps the mystic energies like a cage, soaking them up to infuse it right into their own flesh. In this manner, a flesh-mage can forcibly alter their bodies in a myriad of ways. They can grow new limbs, wings, gills, and more. They can harden or soften their skin, and learn to perceive with senses lost on all others.
It is rare, however, to find any lifestyle that requires more devotion, more concentration, or more time than the path of a Fleshspinner. It takes months or years to fully develop new parts, and it is an agonizingly painful process all the while. Furthermore, Fleshspinners must eat absurd amounts of food to satisfy the magic trapped in their veins. To make matters worse, they can never use healing magic, for it will "heal" them of the flesh-magic and revert them back to their native state.
On the bright side, immortality is a simple thing for them. A few years into their training, they learn to heal themselves of the aging process. And when you can control your physical form down to even a cellular level, it's not a challenge to remove wrinkles and cure ageing-induced disease. For a Fleshspinner, the only sign of aging is the wisdom that comes only with centuries.
Of course, it's no small task to teach such complex magic, so it is no wonder that the typical mage/wizard has no knowledge of Fleshspinning whatsoever. Most commoners are not aware that it exists at all.
But, if one is willing to seek it out, there is a place which teaches this macabre power, out over the very edge of the Wasteland. It is called the Monastery of Flesh. Inside it's walls, you'll find people creatures thousands of years old, some walking about like men, but others growing like fleshy plants or clinging to the walls like a moss of human skin.. They were all once people, but most aren't even recognizable as humanoids anymore.
Of course, those are only the oldest of the old, the ones who have achieved "Transcendent Flesh": the power of instant transformation.
The younger ones, the students, are more akin to monsters out of a fairy tail. Wings and sharp teeth, eyes in places they shouldn't be and as many limbs as spiders. With practice, anyone with a touch of magic (perhaps even dwarves) can learn to become like these creatures, immortal and in full command of their flesh.
Unsurprisingly, flesh magic requires an intimate knowledge of biology, so that the aspiring practitioner will not accidentally destroy a kidney or two. It shouldn't come as a shock that a full half of the Monastery is devoted to a massive library, largely regarding the anatomy of the different races and sexes, so any mage knows exactly what they're working with when they begin to twist the shape of their bodies.
As one final note, it should be said: because each Fleshspinner must learn their own bodies in painstaking detail, it is rare for them to work with the physiology of those originating in different races or genders. A Fleshspinner who was once a female elf will have difficulty applying their magic on any subject who is not also a female elf. Shertul may no longer be identifiable as a human or a man, but the fact remains that all his biology originates as such, and so he has only ever studied male humani anatomy in enough detail to control it.
This limitation is only compounded by the nature of flesh-magic. It is so intensely personal that it cannot be efficiently transferred to anyone other than the caster. This includes the dead. Many a necromancer has discovered Fleshspinning with glee, only to have it followed with disappointment.
-
-
Note: This is really long and poorly written, so don't feel obligated to read it all. This is basically what happens when I shit on my keyboard
Unlike other wizards, Fleshspinners keep their magic wholly contained within themselves. Their body literally traps the mystic energies like a cage, soaking them up to infuse it right into their own flesh. In this manner, a flesh-mage can forcibly alter their bodies in a myriad of ways. They can grow new limbs, wings, gills, and more. They can harden or soften their skin, and learn to perceive with senses lost on all others.
It is rare, however, to find any lifestyle that requires more devotion, more concentration, or more time than the path of a Fleshspinner. It takes months or years to fully develop new parts, and it is an agonizingly painful process all the while. Furthermore, Fleshspinners must eat absurd amounts of food to satisfy the magic trapped in their veins. To make matters worse, they can never use healing magic, for it will "heal" them of the flesh-magic and revert them back to their native state.
On the bright side, immortality is a simple thing for them. A few years into their training, they learn to heal themselves of the aging process. And when you can control your physical form down to even a cellular level, it's not a challenge to remove wrinkles and cure ageing-induced disease. For a Fleshspinner, the only sign of aging is the wisdom that comes only with centuries.
Of course, it's no small task to teach such complex magic, so it is no wonder that the typical mage/wizard has no knowledge of Fleshspinning whatsoever. Most commoners are not aware that it exists at all.
But, if one is willing to seek it out, there is a place which teaches this macabre power, out over the very edge of the Wasteland. It is called the Monastery of Flesh. Inside it's walls, you'll find people creatures thousands of years old, some walking about like men, but others growing like fleshy plants or clinging to the walls like a moss of human skin.. They were all once people, but most aren't even recognizable as humanoids anymore.
Of course, those are only the oldest of the old, the ones who have achieved "Transcendent Flesh": the power of instant transformation.
The younger ones, the students, are more akin to monsters out of a fairy tail. Wings and sharp teeth, eyes in places they shouldn't be and as many limbs as spiders. With practice, anyone with a touch of magic (perhaps even dwarves) can learn to become like these creatures, immortal and in full command of their flesh.
Unsurprisingly, flesh magic requires an intimate knowledge of biology, so that the aspiring practitioner will not accidentally destroy a kidney or two. It shouldn't come as a shock that a full half of the Monastery is devoted to a massive library, largely regarding the anatomy of the different races and sexes, so any mage knows exactly what they're working with when they begin to twist the shape of their bodies.
As one final note, it should be said: because each Fleshspinner must learn their own bodies in painstaking detail, it is rare for them to work with the physiology of those originating in different races or genders. A Fleshspinner who was once a female elf will have difficulty applying their magic on any subject who is not also a female elf. Shertul may no longer be identifiable as a human or a man, but the fact remains that all his biology originates as such, and so he has only ever studied male humani anatomy in enough detail to control it.
This limitation is only compounded by the nature of flesh-magic. It is so intensely personal that it cannot be efficiently transferred to anyone other than the caster. This includes the dead. Many a necromancer has discovered Fleshspinning with glee, only to have it followed with disappointment.
Shertul spent decades in meditation, slowly changing his body. His bones have gotten both harder and lighter, his skin smoothed out, his hair fell out, his senses became attuned to the flow of magic throughout the world so that he can literally hear and see it, he grew a working pair of gills, he developed clawed and webbed fingers, and perhaps most surprising, he sprouted a full set of extra arms. He could suddenly move with lightening speed and strength.
The only organs he could not develop were wings. Most Fleshspinners create wings for themselves at some point, but Shertul never could. He earnestly tried, for years upon years, yet flight never came. He still looks on Corva and Air Elementals with a bitter jealousy.
Unfortunately, the lifetime of devotion spent creating his flesh as it is now equally means that he cannot easily change it again. While he heals with indomitable speed, truly growing new limbs or changing the chemical makeup of his body would still take months or years for every change. Fleshspinning is an endlessly patient process.
And, of course, all this comes at a cost: the slow change is also a painful one. Without herbal medication (read: potions), the pain becomes overwhelming. Furthermore, Shertul can never use healing magic or have it applied to him, as the healing energies will attempt to "heal" his extra limbs and organs, slowly reverting him back to a normal humani. An eighty-one years old normal humani.
Adding insult to injury, he must eat constantly. While Shertul has always been thin and short, all that he has added to his body by magical needs forces him to consume even more food than a "natural" being would. In a sense, he's feeding the magic as much as he's feeding himself. Starvation is a constant, all-encompassing threat whenever he takes the risk of leaving civilization. Even a day without food would be incapacitating, and two would mean certain death.
On the bright side, if he doesn't starve to death or allow himself to be "healed", he'll live forever.
Good at...:
The Monastery has a bad habit of only teaching magic, and only flesh-magic at that. Very few practical skills were learnt in Shertul's eight decades of life. His only true skill is an incredible gift both hunting and fighting, though this comes not from skill but from biology. He is unfairly strong and fast, so much so that it covers his lack of practical experience.
Bad at...:
Everything. He can't cook, he can't build, he can't sew or clean or manage time. It's a wonder he can walk. When it comes to day-to-day abilities, Shertul is lost.
Good Habit(s):()
Perhaps it was those years of meditation, but Shertul has more patience than any humani you'll ever meet.
Bad Habit(s):
He has a habit of taking everything too seriously. He has never had a sense of humor, and he isn't going to start now. Serious, moody, and dramatic till the end.
Also, he constantly steals food off of other people's plate. No meal is safe! He'll point in another direction and, before you know what's happening, the flesh-mage has swallowed up your whole meal.
In his defense, he'll die if he doesn't.
On a lighter note, he tends to click his claws together when he's nervous.
The Monastery has a bad habit of only teaching magic, and only flesh-magic at that. Very few practical skills were learnt in Shertul's eight decades of life. His only true skill is an incredible gift both hunting and fighting, though this comes not from skill but from biology. He is unfairly strong and fast, so much so that it covers his lack of practical experience.
Bad at...:
Everything. He can't cook, he can't build, he can't sew or clean or manage time. It's a wonder he can walk. When it comes to day-to-day abilities, Shertul is lost.
Traits
Good Habit(s):()
Perhaps it was those years of meditation, but Shertul has more patience than any humani you'll ever meet.
Bad Habit(s):
He has a habit of taking everything too seriously. He has never had a sense of humor, and he isn't going to start now. Serious, moody, and dramatic till the end.
Also, he constantly steals food off of other people's plate. No meal is safe! He'll point in another direction and, before you know what's happening, the flesh-mage has swallowed up your whole meal.
In his defense, he'll die if he doesn't.
On a lighter note, he tends to click his claws together when he's nervous.
History
The Past
Shertul's origin may sound odd to those who spawn from the lush forests and gentle streams of Raziel's land, but for the few who take residence in the Wastes, it is a common story.
He was born to a tribe of wandering nomads. No destination. No origin that anyone can remember. They traveled in path with the few prey animals that survived in the desolation of Alithe's lands, living out of animal-skin tents and simple spears.
It was a rough life. Nobody grew fat, nobody grew old; some didn't grow up. Shertul was small. They all knew he would not survive.
The day his fate changed was the day he saw it on the horizon: a fortress of dark spires, rising proudly over the wastes. It was surrounded by shadow demons, even more than normal for the Wastelands, and a strange, totally indescribable aura was felt from it. His young eyes, only a decade old, had never see anything like it. So powerful, so frightening. He's hands latched to his mother. She saw his fear and tried to comfort him, but she didn't hide the truth.
It was at that young age he learned of the Monastery of Flesh, a institution altogether glorious and terrifying. His tribe explained to him that it was a city of magical "abominations", thousands of them, living unnatural lives that could lead only to destruction.
The more she said, though, the less Shertul heard. He was already entranced. Before the spires were even out of site, he was begging to join. His child's mind couldn't understand their objections. It sounded like a warm place, with food to spare and beds to rest and magic to entrance.
Most parents won't understand what his mother did next.
She let him go. Not because he was ready, and certainly not because she changed her mind about the Monastery, but because she knew it was the only real chance he had at a life. Not a normal life, to be sure, but a life better than feeding on scraps out in the waste.
When he arrived, two monks were already waiting on him. Their mutated eyes had seen him coming a mile away. They introduced him to the masters of the Monastery, who explained to him what this place truly was. The people there, the "monks", learned a macabre magic forbidden in other realms: Fleshspinning. The name alone almost made Shertul vomit, but he stomached it and listened.
It was a very old order, a very strange one, that taught to keep magic wholly contained within yourself. Fleshspinner's bodies literally traps the mystic energies like a cage, soaking them up to infuse it right into their own flesh. In this manner, they can forcibly alter their bodies in a myriad of ways. They can grow new limbs, wings, gills, and more. They can harden or soften their skin, and learn to perceive with senses lost on all others.
It frightened the young Shertul, but it was already far too late to catch up with his tribe. He had to stay, like it or not.
Before he could become a wizard, however, he had to become a scholar. He had to learn.
Reading and writing were lost arts on his people, but the Monastery educated him. They showed him what civilization meant. How could he not be loyal? So when the day came that he was offered the choice- either become a Fleshspinner or leave the Monastery forever, alone- he threw away his tribe's warnings and accepted without a thought.
From then, the years flew by. Shertul discovered that time moves differently for an immortal. Months were the blink of an eye. Years meant nothing.
But even in the blur of immortal life, he met a companion who's nature complimented his own: Rayu. She was, like him, raised in a life nothing like the Monastery. The similarities ended there, but sometimes opposites attract.
Fleshspinners rarely reproduce. Their relationship was not sexual. But it was emotionally intense, in a way that can only be related to by those who have endured those friendships that last decades. Shertul honestly believed that he could never betray her.
But he could.
On one night like any other, Rayu and Shertul were looking out a window when a light appeared on the horizon. White. Blinding. It was growing brighter. Screams sounded off. Shadow demons flocked to it like sparrows. What could have only been a few seconds (but felt like hours) went past before Shertul could see clearly. A Nephilim had found itself surrounded in the Wastelands, and it was hardly a shock that that the Shades were feeding.
It was a shock when one of the Monastery masters, named Erison, leaped from the window to join in on the fight. There was no warning. The master simply ran to the Nephlim and began tearing into it like a beast. The shades held it to the ground while the Fleshspinner ripped it apart.
When the melee cleared enough for Rayu and Shertul to finally tear their eyes away, he was surprised to find her angry. It took him hours to get the answer out of her, but apparently, Rayu was infuriated that a master Fleshspinner would get involved with the Nephilim/Revenant war.
"It wouldn't be a problem," she said, "except... remember Vona?"
Shertul nodded. Vona was a high-ranking Fleshspinner who, a few years prior, had been banished from the . The reason cited was "It is improper for a flesh-mage to enter into a religious war." But if that's the case, why was the Monastery overlooking Erison's unprovoked attack on a Nephilim? Why was he not banished?
He tried to calm her down, but Rayu just went on and on about it, and the more she ranted the angrier she made herself. She told the Fleshspinner leaders, but nothing was done. Even Shertul didn't seem to care (and he didn't- what a Spinner does on his own time is nobody else's business).
It came to a head two weeks later. Consumed with conviction that the Fleshspinners were just a magical arm of the Revenants, and the entire student-body was secretly being recruited, Rayu stole away dozens of irreplaceable scrolls and books from the library. She told Shertul in a hushed whisper that she would flee to the forests of Terra, or perhaps the home of the Corva. There, with no Revenants or Fleshspinners or master Erisons to stop them, him and her could build a new place of flesh-magic: a true, unaligned institute for true, unaligned learning.
Her eyes were so bright with hope, but Shertul's stayed as cold as stone.
He only said one word, "No", and her heart was broken. Still, it wouldn't be enough. He couldn't let her betray the Monastery of Flesh. He couldn't let throw everything they had away.
And so, with a heart full of guilt and hands shaking with trepidation, he betrayed out his only friend. He told the Monastery masters. Shertul was assured by them many times: something would be done, he had nothing to worry about, just go to sleep and let the masters speak to Ruya themselves.
When he awoke, the morning sun was streaming peacefully through the narrow windows, and his closest love's blood was splattered on the walls. She was gone. Rips of the stolen scrolls littered across the floor.
Ask as he might, many times, the masters would never tell him what happened. Did she live? Did she die? Did she fight them first, or was she attacked in cold blood? He could feel his dear masters growing in hostility with each question. He had only two choices left: live in peace, never knowing what became of Ruya and if she's even alive, or flee and search for her alone.
The Monastery was everything to him, but he couldn't stay there, haunted by the ghost of Rayu. If she was wrong about the Monastery, he could forgive himself. But if she wasn't? If she survived the attack, he could forgive himself. But if she didn't?
He had to know. He left his home, in search of the lands he knew she would move to if her flesh was still moving.
The Present
Shertul hasn't forgotten what happened at the Monastery, nor can he, until he discovers the truth. Either he'll find Rayu out in the world, or his journeys will finally teach him the wisdom to forgive himself. Until then, he's cursed by guilt to keep looking for a friend he may never find.
He has been in the forest for a long time now. Longer than he can remember. Longer than he wants to remember. Occasionally, he comes across a fae or elven or centaurian habitat, and they'll allow him to stay for a day or two. But he can never linger- they will eventually find out what he is, why he's there.
So he keeps his feet moving and his ears open.
Memories
It is rare to find any lifestyle that requires more devotion, more concentration, or more time than the path of a Fleshspinner. This has been especially true for Shertul.
Shertul, accompanied all the while by his dearest friend Rayu, once performed a rite known as the Carnal Awakening. No warning was given to them until the very morning it happened, before the sun had even risen over the Wastes, when guards in black cloaks came to drag them from their beds and enter them into a featureless, dark, empty room without any food or even a change of clothes.
Then the door was locked, and they would not leave for years.
They were kept alive only by the magics of the tower. And there they meditated, for years on end, locked in thought. While they sat in a trance, the seasons changed, people were born and buried, buildings were built and crumbled.
Twenty years later, when the rusted old door finally creaked open again, they lifted their eyes and couldn't recognize themselves. They found that they could now see and hear magic, not just sense it vaguely, and that they were aware of their surroundings in ways that they couldn't fathom before. Life was full of things that they felt had always been there, but they were noticing for the first time. Shertul had grown gills and arms and even a third eye. Rayu sat admiring her leathery, bat-like wings.
They had awoken to a new world.
Shertul, accompanied all the while by his dearest friend Rayu, once performed a rite known as the Carnal Awakening. No warning was given to them until the very morning it happened, before the sun had even risen over the Wastes, when guards in black cloaks came to drag them from their beds and enter them into a featureless, dark, empty room without any food or even a change of clothes.
Then the door was locked, and they would not leave for years.
They were kept alive only by the magics of the tower. And there they meditated, for years on end, locked in thought. While they sat in a trance, the seasons changed, people were born and buried, buildings were built and crumbled.
Twenty years later, when the rusted old door finally creaked open again, they lifted their eyes and couldn't recognize themselves. They found that they could now see and hear magic, not just sense it vaguely, and that they were aware of their surroundings in ways that they couldn't fathom before. Life was full of things that they felt had always been there, but they were noticing for the first time. Shertul had grown gills and arms and even a third eye. Rayu sat admiring her leathery, bat-like wings.
They had awoken to a new world.
(I never really post more than 3 paragraphs- I just happen to like making a 25,000 character C.S.)
So what do y'all think? Criticisms and opinions are welcome, but be gentle
GM
Emuxe Addicted to italics.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
I love him and your CS. And your CS intro. XD
Your everything-eater is accepted!
Your everything-eater is accepted!
1x Thank
coGM
I love him and your CS.
I was honestly worried everyone would hate it. It's so far out from what I usually do.
Your everything-eater is accepted!
Hungry, guilty, mood drama-queen is more like it
Shmektheshmuck The Bird not the Fruit
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Sorry wrong rp
GM
Emuxe Addicted to italics.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
I think I may just write up a background and setting opening post cause cbf doing characters rn.
Also I'm stuck on the side of the road cause car broke down so I'll start on it when I get... somewhere where my phone will have power and my laptop will have internet xD
Also I'm stuck on the side of the road cause car broke down so I'll start on it when I get... somewhere where my phone will have power and my laptop will have internet xD
coGM
Sorry wrong rp
Too late. I was tagged. I must reply.
I think I may just write up a background and setting opening post cause cbf doing characters rn.
Also I'm stuck on the side of the road cause car broke down so I'll start on it when I get... somewhere where my phone will have power and my laptop will have internet xD
...what does C.B.F. mean?
Shmektheshmuck The Bird not the Fruit
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
GM
Emuxe Addicted to italics.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Cbf means "can't be fucked" as in "can't be bothered".
BubbleGumKing
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Well, I just going to drop this bomb here and leave... If you wanna talk about his special ability, I can explain it more in a PM (since I kinda didn't go with it over you and don't want to waste space here but yeah... You can hit me up~) Also hai, I've been lurkin' for a while since like page 4 (^.^)
On the side note though, I turned my witch into a lich and then it became an elvish druid into a musician, so it was an interesting journey. Its a shame I can't find any pictures that defy the edgelord I could feel from what I found and muscular guys are low in availability that isn't nsfw... After my ranting, here you go >.>
Nyle is a person you wouldn't expect to see playing an instrument and would be more interested in things that would suit a person of his stature. Supporting a bulky build as if he was like a lumberjack or something similar, combined with his height of 5'11 and weight makes him quite intimidating. Gained through this travels of various rough incidents which has conditioned his body to be accustomed to the hardy life on the road. His fair colored skin had been tanned as a sign of outdoors traveling but doesn't have a noticeable end spot unless you want to dig further... With wide shoulders and bulky arms that are muscular and unsuspectingly perfect at supporting his control over playing his music with the violin. With short dark brown hair and supporting a respectable beard along with hair in other places that only makes it more surprising when he shows his ability to play music as a musician. His nature all in all makes him out to be like a gentle giant, yet having the charm and confidence to pull this off even better. It contrasts to what you would normally expect a musician to be like or the typical bard to represent, but even the musically gifted has its few odd eggs whether its good or bad is up to you...
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Full Name:
Nyle Brentwood
Age:
34
Gender:
Male
Birth Date:
17th of June
Race:
Human with traces of elven blood and even less fae blood
Alignment:
Neutral
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Hair Colour:
Dark earthly brown locks of hair that looks natural
Eye Colour:
Cool haselnut coloured eyes that matches his hair almost
Face Shape:
A normal shaped head like an oval and angular at the chin but its not like you can see it much
Skin Tone:
He has fair skin that is neither too pale or too tan
Height:
5'11
Weight:
217
Body Type:
AB+
Natural Markings:
None
Scar(s):
None
Tattoo(s):
None
![]()
3 Words:
Talented Charming Artist
Like(s):
Dislike(s):
Want(s):
Fear(s):
Colour(s):
Time of Day:
Food:
Animal:
Place in Terra:
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Special ablilty/ies:
Nyle possesses a magical ability known as 'The Genius', which is a mysterious supernatural power that allows those who are granted it the ability to master their chosen instrument. Bearers of this supernatural gift are rare and even rarer to discover their nature which makes them near nonexistent that makes their magic a mystery. Nyle himself knows about the unconscious ability that he has within him that acts like a sixth sense for music that are a part of his instincts in a sense. In short, they are people who can transcend music and even magic upon nearing mastering their instrument that can produce miraculous effects. Those who have a Genius can be considered different from Bards, as they seem like they have the essence of 'music' born into them. Consider it an affinity for music that is a combination of possessing the natural ability to perform music beautifully along with inborn magical or a higher source that makes them even more inclined to play music on a whole different level.
Good at...:
Bad at...:
Good Habit(s):
Bad Habit(s):
![]()
Nyle was born to a relatively normal family if you cut out the fact they were nobility, low ranking but still had their titles granted to them. His family didn't live in Wellborough due to the magical protection it had and thus lived elsewhere where they were able to revel in the magical arts. They lived in one of the bigger towns that were en route to Wallborough and had been living there ever since what his grandfather knew when Nyle asked him. His family while all practitioners of magic and frequent guests to the court, weren't all impressive or specialized to garner any attention. Grandfather was a battle mage who in his younger days sparred with the other young men who had his fair share of wins and losses, while Grandmother was a healer who used the magical arts to cure ailments and brewed potions to supplement this as well. Mother herself was an enchanter who navigated through the court and made deals with what she could with her abilities while Father was also a battle mage who focused on the elemental magics and had his own assortment of wins and losses.
With magic flowing through their blood as if it was natural, it wasn't unexpected when Mother and Father had children who were able to pick up the arcane arts. Apparently, it was due to their lineage being intertwined with several elves who married into the family that then mixed their blood together with ours. However, after many generations, the prominence of their elvish traits disappeared as their family retained their humani features but still had a trace of elven blood and whatever else was in there. With this background, it gave birth to three children that Mother and Father had to raise along with the Grandparents finally having grandchildren to look after.
The three children all came to use their magical talents but were supplementary only to their pursuits they placed first. Megan was the oldest and the only girl who focused on being an enchanter only after her training as a knight, using magic to reinforce her physical abilities. Then there was Shaun who was the older son who focused on illusions and was quite talented but eventually disappeared from the family slowly for unknown reasons. Nyle himself was the youngest and a practitioner of magic but it only came as an unexpected boon when he wanted to become a musician. It was an unknown kind of magic but Mother deduced it was similar in a sense to what enchanters do but simply with music instead, however, that was a meager explanation. His dreams of being a musician were given a tight smile and placed onto the back burner of his education while they raised Nyle. However, only through the intervention of his Grandfather allowed the implementation of a music tutor into his education to hone his musical desires.
At the age of 18, he had already undergone all the education that other children of nobles went through and finished them. While certainly a smart child who understood the topics that were being taught but his cleverness shown when he composed his own musical pieces and even gave dull repetition a breath of life when he played. The praise that was given by his musical teachers were simply waved to the side as they gave polite responses before dismissing him for the final time. Now that he was finally free to do what 'he wanted', his parents were expectantly waiting for what Nyle wished to pursue his occupation. His older sister became a knight and served as a warrior to fight off threats that came to light, while his brother went into the shadier business but was successful and soon Nyle himself was expected to become something and succeed. It was obvious when voicing his desire to become a musician wasn't going to be a talk going to go well and went exactly as he thought it would go. An argument broke out and eventually lead to a period of silence between him and his parents, seeking out to make his own future beyond the watch of his parents.
Abandoning his lavish life, even as a low ranking noble was hard as it removed many of the luxuries that he was used to but managed for himself. The first few months were hard but he was definitely noticed for his emotional music pieces that ranged from originals to the common ones that everyone knew. However, his adventurous spirit took him to many other places where he visited and brought the bewitching songs he played along with him. One of the many fond memories of his travels was at the Lake of Terra, where he camped with the mischievous fae and the water elementals for several days simply watching them and talking to them. Eventually, one night he brought out his violin and began stringing a song together that brought even the fae to a momentary hush before joining in. Together, they made a night of lights and sparkles filled with the music of Nyle's violin that was played until the early morning that exhausted everyone. Later that evening, he was invited to play but instead inside Norione Village by the inhabitants who were jealous of the party down the waterfall they weren't invited to. Accepting the offer, as he was assisted by the water elementals and fae to scaling the tricky path before later that night playing once more. After the second night, Nyle himself left once the morning of the third day came upon him and resumed his travels.
Along his journies, he hit many of the major civilization and made more than enough to support his lifestyle of travel. Some of his performances were taken place in taverns like the ones he did in Volkungthad where the home of the dwarves was, other were in finer establishments during his visit to the Aelarian Peninsula where the Corvi and Wind Elementals habited. Others took place in the remote forests of Terra, where he traveled with merchants to obscure villages that lived in the wild. Then there some places where he wouldn't have dare had expected to play, such as the graveyards that bordered The Wastelands as a festival to honor the dead of all kinds. It was a bit frightening when a small crowd of shadow demons was watching and listening from afar, but beyond that, it went fairly normal as it could be. Despite the uncertainty that the next day might bring, he enjoyed the lifestyle had had as he traveled the Land of Terra and experience many things that he was sure to have missed from his place with his family.
Nyle in the present is perhaps more famous than he was when he ambitiously set off from his family's estate and went to pursue his dreams of being a musician. However, the course of his journey, his 'need' to be a great musician disappeared with simply wishing people to enjoy what he played and to hone his skills with music as well. So it can be ambiguous if he is indeed has gained a reputation for being a musician or not from his lack of promoting himself. He has done little to promote his name except for simply giving it when asked if anyone was interested and little more. Of course, throughout his journies he had attracted the attention with people of power which had given hive quite a hefty pay for performing but little else. He had no interest in politics (for the most part) and sought to ignore the brewing troubles as he himself tried to brighten the air. It is of little note that over the course of his journey, he should be more than capable of handling his retirement from the gifts of his few bewitched admirers and dedicated fans who remember him even if he had passed by several years ago, it's not surprising.
His journey right now has lead him from the far edges of Terra back to his home as he made his rounds from where the caravans and travelers went. Visiting back to his home, as he had repaired his relationship with them several years back before his Grandparents passed away. They had grown older but still kicking as they were still scheming with their political plans but that didn't interest him much. It was family time and thus he went on to see his other siblings if they were still around. His sister, Megan was doing fine and even had a husband despite her rough ways and even had two boys who were twins! His brother, on the other hand, was gone, not like he was expecting him to be there but it was a hopeful thought. It gave Nyle a small chuckle when he received a letter the next day about him and his search for Shaun, which the letter was clearly from. The letter itself was mostly small talk but it was neat to know that his brother was alive but just doing whatever he does again.
He would be staying at his family's estate for a few days and perhaps play for one of his parent's parties but leave soon ofter. He was planning to head toward the city of Wellborough and buy some things that he would bring back as gifts once the appropriate bands of merchants or travelers got together for a certain direction. The cycle of his travels would begin once more and would eventually lead him back here, year after year. It wasn't a safe lifestyle but perhaps that's what you could say adventurers did, or that's at least what they called themselves when he traveled with a bunch like that.
Hope you like him for the most part... Time to hide in the bunker >.>
(Edit: I should also add this @Emuxe Oh, well... Not like it will work)
On the side note though, I turned my witch into a lich and then it became an elvish druid into a musician, so it was an interesting journey. Its a shame I can't find any pictures that defy the edgelord I could feel from what I found and muscular guys are low in availability that isn't nsfw... After my ranting, here you go >.>
Nyle Brentwood
Nyle is a person you wouldn't expect to see playing an instrument and would be more interested in things that would suit a person of his stature. Supporting a bulky build as if he was like a lumberjack or something similar, combined with his height of 5'11 and weight makes him quite intimidating. Gained through this travels of various rough incidents which has conditioned his body to be accustomed to the hardy life on the road. His fair colored skin had been tanned as a sign of outdoors traveling but doesn't have a noticeable end spot unless you want to dig further... With wide shoulders and bulky arms that are muscular and unsuspectingly perfect at supporting his control over playing his music with the violin. With short dark brown hair and supporting a respectable beard along with hair in other places that only makes it more surprising when he shows his ability to play music as a musician. His nature all in all makes him out to be like a gentle giant, yet having the charm and confidence to pull this off even better. It contrasts to what you would normally expect a musician to be like or the typical bard to represent, but even the musically gifted has its few odd eggs whether its good or bad is up to you...
Basic Information
Full Name:
Nyle Brentwood
Age:
34
Gender:
Male
Birth Date:
17th of June
Race:
Human with traces of elven blood and even less fae blood
Alignment:
Neutral
Appearance
Hair Colour:
Dark earthly brown locks of hair that looks natural
Eye Colour:
Cool haselnut coloured eyes that matches his hair almost
Face Shape:
A normal shaped head like an oval and angular at the chin but its not like you can see it much
Skin Tone:
He has fair skin that is neither too pale or too tan
Height:
5'11
Weight:
217
Body Type:
AB+
Natural Markings:
None
Scar(s):
None
Tattoo(s):
None
Personality
3 Words:
Talented Charming Artist
Like(s):
- Pursuit of his musical studies, practice, and career that he's been building
- The sound of music of any kind so long as the musician has pride
- Watching the days pass by and what the day presents when he has nothing to do
- On other days flirting with people to spice things up for fun and enjoyment
- Competition usually puts him on his A-game, especially if it's for a person he likes
Dislike(s):
- Being called not having a 'real' profession by people as a musician
- Having to go through the cycles of drama (cliches) even though he might be interested in what's going on
- When being called inferior to somebody which makes him agitated at them
Want(s):
- People who listen to his music to enjoy it and themselves while he's playing it
- Maybe even having a cute face on his bed to look at when he wakes up wouldn't hurt
- A happy and good life in general whether it ends bad or good, as long the adventure makes up for it
Fear(s):
- The complete removal of music from his life which is his soul's work and would be devastating to abandon it
Favourite...
Colour(s):
- Colours to him are simply colours which he has no favortism on except for darker shades which he gravitates to for clothing. On occasion, maybe something lighter to add a pop of attention should he ever desire it for a change.
Time of Day:
- Whenever he gets to play or practice is the Time of Day that he likes and besides, he is a night owl and early bird anyways.
Food:
- Whatever is on the table is graciously eaten as he has no preference on what he specifically likes to eat if given a choice. Back in his younger days, he did have finer taste, but now he's humble enough to eat anything (for the most part).
Animal:
- Songbirds for the music they can create from what nature gave them.
- Foxes and their cunning along with whatever the cute vicious things do in the wild.
- Wolves admirable for their almost majestic nature in the wild and their surprising size compared to domesticated dogs.
- Cats and Dogs are the pets that mankind raised! Its hard not to call them cute no matter what kind they are whether it be cat or dog.
Place in Terra:
- The forests of Terra are one of the best place to play his music as it echoes for miles if you're lucky. It's quite peaceful out there as well, and you never know who's listening.
- Town centers are the most populated areas to play for people to take notice of you and test if your song is good or not and if rusty.
- Taverns in the right places and cilents have a certain feeling to them when playing inside them, a community in the night dedicated to drinking, music, and whatever charades they're up to.
Skills and Attributes
Skills
Special ablilty/ies:
Nyle possesses a magical ability known as 'The Genius', which is a mysterious supernatural power that allows those who are granted it the ability to master their chosen instrument. Bearers of this supernatural gift are rare and even rarer to discover their nature which makes them near nonexistent that makes their magic a mystery. Nyle himself knows about the unconscious ability that he has within him that acts like a sixth sense for music that are a part of his instincts in a sense. In short, they are people who can transcend music and even magic upon nearing mastering their instrument that can produce miraculous effects. Those who have a Genius can be considered different from Bards, as they seem like they have the essence of 'music' born into them. Consider it an affinity for music that is a combination of possessing the natural ability to perform music beautifully along with inborn magical or a higher source that makes them even more inclined to play music on a whole different level.
The Genius itself is like a very heightened instinct that a musician has with their chosen instrument, should they let it rust then it becomes incapable of being used properly. It's possible that a bearer of a Genius can become worse than those who do not have one due to the lack of care for taking care of this ability. As some could call this 'instinct' itself as sentient when they form a bond so strong to the music itself that causes a change in emotion with the bearer itself when sating one's musical appetite per say.
To push this ability beyond what the musician is possible as well as required to train it like a muscle, but at the same time tires them out at the same time. Starting from the bottom, they would begin as intuitively quick musicians who would learn their favored instrument quickly and start rolling faster from there. Developing their musical skills and unconsciously tugging the use of this ability every single moment that they are playing. This ability eventually evolves into a constant and passive thing, music and songs will arrive into their heads naturally as the environment stimulates them musically. At a point, those who bear this gift eventually realize this 'behavior' of theirs and begin to have the ability to consciously utilize this power.
People who are bearers to a Genius are sensitive to each other and are influenced by each other both in a positive and negative whichever one of them chooses. One could steal emotional energy from another or together they could enhance their music beyond what both of them are capable of doing to perform what certainly would be a miracle of music. However, due to the rarity of bearers, this is something that would be rare to happen between two musicians. Furthermore, contact between a Genius and a person who doesn't have one could also be possible through the use of emotions directed at them as a vague feeling of intent. This 'Genius' that these musicians have could be related in a sense to rare powers of psionics but in its entirety is impossible.
Either way, this ability of theirs could be called a sensitive nature to music that allows them to play music to the point of being heavenly and supernatural in itself. A talent that comes from the Gods or God some would say but it is debatable in whether it's considered something magical or extends into the other mysteries that supernatural has and entirely debatable due to the rarity of the skill.
All in all- whoever is a bearer of a Genius is an exceptionally good musician.
<Also should be noted that this idea isn't mine but I like it a lot and if you want to know where I got it just ask...>
To push this ability beyond what the musician is possible as well as required to train it like a muscle, but at the same time tires them out at the same time. Starting from the bottom, they would begin as intuitively quick musicians who would learn their favored instrument quickly and start rolling faster from there. Developing their musical skills and unconsciously tugging the use of this ability every single moment that they are playing. This ability eventually evolves into a constant and passive thing, music and songs will arrive into their heads naturally as the environment stimulates them musically. At a point, those who bear this gift eventually realize this 'behavior' of theirs and begin to have the ability to consciously utilize this power.
People who are bearers to a Genius are sensitive to each other and are influenced by each other both in a positive and negative whichever one of them chooses. One could steal emotional energy from another or together they could enhance their music beyond what both of them are capable of doing to perform what certainly would be a miracle of music. However, due to the rarity of bearers, this is something that would be rare to happen between two musicians. Furthermore, contact between a Genius and a person who doesn't have one could also be possible through the use of emotions directed at them as a vague feeling of intent. This 'Genius' that these musicians have could be related in a sense to rare powers of psionics but in its entirety is impossible.
Either way, this ability of theirs could be called a sensitive nature to music that allows them to play music to the point of being heavenly and supernatural in itself. A talent that comes from the Gods or God some would say but it is debatable in whether it's considered something magical or extends into the other mysteries that supernatural has and entirely debatable due to the rarity of the skill.
All in all- whoever is a bearer of a Genius is an exceptionally good musician.
<Also should be noted that this idea isn't mine but I like it a lot and if you want to know where I got it just ask...>
Good at...:
- Music, which is his life and passion which had come so naturally. He specializes in playing his violin and most of his skills that he's honed are related to what he does as a musician.
- Reading emotions and body language is a skill that Nyle has which is like an intuition of reading the atmosphere when he plays music and using on the social scene. As a musician, he focuses on a more emotional tone to his music that grants them feeling.
- Even without an instrument, Nyle is skilled at entertaining a group of people by simply with his personality that attracts people to him with his smile. On stage, he is able to excite even a dull crowd into having an interest in what he is playing.
- Despite his interest in music, he also keeps himself in shape with various physical activities that have shaped himself up to pass inspection. Besides, people are more attracted to those who have a better figure than those who don't. Things that he do are like horse-back riding, the occasional sparring session, manual labor, and whatever else that is thrown his way. In general, he doesn't look like a person who would be a musician from how athletically built he is.
Bad at...:
- Being biased as he likes to take a side during an argument if it feels right to him
- Having to keep his mouth shut because he's a talker
Traits
Good Habit(s):
- Well mannered and curtious with the propper etiquite to not offend anyone usually
- Friendly to everyone he meets even if they're strangers or meeting for the first time
Bad Habit(s):
- Despite his manners, he is judgemental and two-faced, but it's not like they have to know
- Keeping to his own principals which make him a hypocrite should anyone notice
History
The Past
Nyle was born to a relatively normal family if you cut out the fact they were nobility, low ranking but still had their titles granted to them. His family didn't live in Wellborough due to the magical protection it had and thus lived elsewhere where they were able to revel in the magical arts. They lived in one of the bigger towns that were en route to Wallborough and had been living there ever since what his grandfather knew when Nyle asked him. His family while all practitioners of magic and frequent guests to the court, weren't all impressive or specialized to garner any attention. Grandfather was a battle mage who in his younger days sparred with the other young men who had his fair share of wins and losses, while Grandmother was a healer who used the magical arts to cure ailments and brewed potions to supplement this as well. Mother herself was an enchanter who navigated through the court and made deals with what she could with her abilities while Father was also a battle mage who focused on the elemental magics and had his own assortment of wins and losses.
With magic flowing through their blood as if it was natural, it wasn't unexpected when Mother and Father had children who were able to pick up the arcane arts. Apparently, it was due to their lineage being intertwined with several elves who married into the family that then mixed their blood together with ours. However, after many generations, the prominence of their elvish traits disappeared as their family retained their humani features but still had a trace of elven blood and whatever else was in there. With this background, it gave birth to three children that Mother and Father had to raise along with the Grandparents finally having grandchildren to look after.
The three children all came to use their magical talents but were supplementary only to their pursuits they placed first. Megan was the oldest and the only girl who focused on being an enchanter only after her training as a knight, using magic to reinforce her physical abilities. Then there was Shaun who was the older son who focused on illusions and was quite talented but eventually disappeared from the family slowly for unknown reasons. Nyle himself was the youngest and a practitioner of magic but it only came as an unexpected boon when he wanted to become a musician. It was an unknown kind of magic but Mother deduced it was similar in a sense to what enchanters do but simply with music instead, however, that was a meager explanation. His dreams of being a musician were given a tight smile and placed onto the back burner of his education while they raised Nyle. However, only through the intervention of his Grandfather allowed the implementation of a music tutor into his education to hone his musical desires.
At the age of 18, he had already undergone all the education that other children of nobles went through and finished them. While certainly a smart child who understood the topics that were being taught but his cleverness shown when he composed his own musical pieces and even gave dull repetition a breath of life when he played. The praise that was given by his musical teachers were simply waved to the side as they gave polite responses before dismissing him for the final time. Now that he was finally free to do what 'he wanted', his parents were expectantly waiting for what Nyle wished to pursue his occupation. His older sister became a knight and served as a warrior to fight off threats that came to light, while his brother went into the shadier business but was successful and soon Nyle himself was expected to become something and succeed. It was obvious when voicing his desire to become a musician wasn't going to be a talk going to go well and went exactly as he thought it would go. An argument broke out and eventually lead to a period of silence between him and his parents, seeking out to make his own future beyond the watch of his parents.
Abandoning his lavish life, even as a low ranking noble was hard as it removed many of the luxuries that he was used to but managed for himself. The first few months were hard but he was definitely noticed for his emotional music pieces that ranged from originals to the common ones that everyone knew. However, his adventurous spirit took him to many other places where he visited and brought the bewitching songs he played along with him. One of the many fond memories of his travels was at the Lake of Terra, where he camped with the mischievous fae and the water elementals for several days simply watching them and talking to them. Eventually, one night he brought out his violin and began stringing a song together that brought even the fae to a momentary hush before joining in. Together, they made a night of lights and sparkles filled with the music of Nyle's violin that was played until the early morning that exhausted everyone. Later that evening, he was invited to play but instead inside Norione Village by the inhabitants who were jealous of the party down the waterfall they weren't invited to. Accepting the offer, as he was assisted by the water elementals and fae to scaling the tricky path before later that night playing once more. After the second night, Nyle himself left once the morning of the third day came upon him and resumed his travels.
Along his journies, he hit many of the major civilization and made more than enough to support his lifestyle of travel. Some of his performances were taken place in taverns like the ones he did in Volkungthad where the home of the dwarves was, other were in finer establishments during his visit to the Aelarian Peninsula where the Corvi and Wind Elementals habited. Others took place in the remote forests of Terra, where he traveled with merchants to obscure villages that lived in the wild. Then there some places where he wouldn't have dare had expected to play, such as the graveyards that bordered The Wastelands as a festival to honor the dead of all kinds. It was a bit frightening when a small crowd of shadow demons was watching and listening from afar, but beyond that, it went fairly normal as it could be. Despite the uncertainty that the next day might bring, he enjoyed the lifestyle had had as he traveled the Land of Terra and experience many things that he was sure to have missed from his place with his family.
The Present
Nyle in the present is perhaps more famous than he was when he ambitiously set off from his family's estate and went to pursue his dreams of being a musician. However, the course of his journey, his 'need' to be a great musician disappeared with simply wishing people to enjoy what he played and to hone his skills with music as well. So it can be ambiguous if he is indeed has gained a reputation for being a musician or not from his lack of promoting himself. He has done little to promote his name except for simply giving it when asked if anyone was interested and little more. Of course, throughout his journies he had attracted the attention with people of power which had given hive quite a hefty pay for performing but little else. He had no interest in politics (for the most part) and sought to ignore the brewing troubles as he himself tried to brighten the air. It is of little note that over the course of his journey, he should be more than capable of handling his retirement from the gifts of his few bewitched admirers and dedicated fans who remember him even if he had passed by several years ago, it's not surprising.
His journey right now has lead him from the far edges of Terra back to his home as he made his rounds from where the caravans and travelers went. Visiting back to his home, as he had repaired his relationship with them several years back before his Grandparents passed away. They had grown older but still kicking as they were still scheming with their political plans but that didn't interest him much. It was family time and thus he went on to see his other siblings if they were still around. His sister, Megan was doing fine and even had a husband despite her rough ways and even had two boys who were twins! His brother, on the other hand, was gone, not like he was expecting him to be there but it was a hopeful thought. It gave Nyle a small chuckle when he received a letter the next day about him and his search for Shaun, which the letter was clearly from. The letter itself was mostly small talk but it was neat to know that his brother was alive but just doing whatever he does again.
He would be staying at his family's estate for a few days and perhaps play for one of his parent's parties but leave soon ofter. He was planning to head toward the city of Wellborough and buy some things that he would bring back as gifts once the appropriate bands of merchants or travelers got together for a certain direction. The cycle of his travels would begin once more and would eventually lead him back here, year after year. It wasn't a safe lifestyle but perhaps that's what you could say adventurers did, or that's at least what they called themselves when he traveled with a bunch like that.
Hope you like him for the most part... Time to hide in the bunker >.>
(Edit: I should also add this @Emuxe Oh, well... Not like it will work)
@Jeyma Sybil is offended you called her a birdbrain. And no, Daewyn I couldn't call the genius. He aspires to his uncle Nero's genius but hasn't achieved it yet. He would just rather spend his time reading and learning than that more brutish fighting stuff. Not that he can't, he just.... doesn't want to. Usually his excuse for everything. And brutish is my word, not his, he wants to make it clear he doesn't "play for the other team" so to speak.
coGM
@Jeyma Sybil is offended you called her a birdbrain. And no, Daewyn I couldn't call the genius. He aspires to his uncle Nero's genius but hasn't achieved it yet. He would just rather spend his time reading and learning than that more brutish fighting stuff. Not that he can't, he just.... doesn't want to. Usually his excuse for everything. And brutish is my word, not his, he wants to make it clear he doesn't "play for the other team" so to speak.
It t'was only my perception of those characters. That's why I tagged you: I wanted to insure you had the right to speak up if I misunderstood them. Thanks. :D
Lawful Newtral Black Leg
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
Sorry for doubleposting, but I have finalized my CS. Hopefully it'sof sufficient quality.
Full Name: Gellert Formonde
Age: 47 (so he claims)
Gender: Male
Birth Date: 01/01
Race: Humani
Alignment: Neutral
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Hair Color: Grey
Eye Color: Beady blue
Face Shape: Square, chiseled, a light stubble covering his chin and lining his jawline
Skin Tone: Pale olive
Height: 182 cm/5'9"
Weight: 75 kg/165 lb
Body Type: Muscular, battle-worn
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): A singular gash across the left side of his lips, several old scars on his chest and back
Tattoo(s): One on his right shoulder; black outline of a lidded eye lined with inverse pentagramic spikes (img)
Gellert is nothing but a mysterious figure. Often coming as swiftly as the rain and vanishing without a trace just as fast, he's demure, mysterious and strictly professional with his dealings. No matter how hard you try, you'll find it almost impossible to get into his head. His thoughts are a mystery to everyone but himself and only the most perceptive can outline a pattern in his seemingly erratic and unpredictable judgment. Usually a quiet man who keeps to himself and doesn't let anyone pry at his past, Gellert has a penchant for wit and sarcastic remarks whenever he is stuck into a conversation. Generally, he doesn't go around and pick fights with people he knows to have no quarrel with. Despite his known profession as a shady mercenary and bounty hunter, he's quite peace-loving out of the job and a pleasant man all around. Just very, very intimidating, even when he doesn't mean to.
3 Words: Witty, Unpredictable, Scary
Like(s): The woods, kids, good music, magic (sleight of hand, not sorcery), money, alcohol
Dislike(s): Minstrels, thieves, wanton destruction, swimming, arrogance, being disrespected, monsters
Want(s): Family, home and a peaceful life
Fear(s): Drowning
Color(s): Grey
Time of Day: Evening
Food: Roasted river mackerel on a stick
Animal: Wolf
Place in Terra: Norione Village
Special ability(s): Gellert wants to keep this under wraps as much as possible (for the shock value), but he is able to shapeshift into a number of various animals. Specifically, a wolf, an owl and a frog. Transformations take about a second at most and last indefinitely as long as he has energy and consciousness.
Good at...: Swordsmanship, primarily. Gellert is an exemplar fighter and can overpower most opponents in an honorable one-on-one duel. His stay at Norione Village gave him the knowledge of water magic. He is also good at simple cooking, stealth, lying and combat acrobatics.
Bad at...: Archery. Gellert has always been fascinated the rangers of the wood and wanted to emulate their masterful marksmanship. However, he never could get the hang of aiming and eventually abandoned that aspiration for simpler bladeworks. He's also notably incompetent at flirting, penmanship (his handwriting is sloppier that chicken scratches), dealing with thirst and also putting thoughts into words.
Good Habit(s): Gellert has tremendous respect for nature and its children and it shows in his day-to-day life. He also has peerless diligence and work ethic.
Bad Habit(s): He's unfortunately quite antisocial and detached, detesting having to interact beyond what is rational (in his eyes). Gellert also likes to binge drink.
![]()
Little is known about the origins of Gellert Formonde. He is an unreliable storyteller and rumors about his past are equally dubious. What is certain, however, is that he's lowborn, the son of peasant workers from Wellborough. Both of his parents were shapeshifters and he inherited their ability, able to shift into his favorite animals (wolves, owls and frogs). His life was modest and wasn't filled with much troubles. Not much fortune, either. Some time before he came of age, his father began teaching him how to properly handle a sword, himself being a former brigand that turned a new leaf when he found love with a brothel worker, leading of course to Gellert. As it turns out, he inherited his father's combat savviness; the sword flowed so easily in his arms. He could easily duke it out with his father at such an early age.
At his parent's suggestion, Gellert took up the work of a sellsword, lending his fighting skills where the money was right. He found steady work and camaraderie with the Rogue Knights. They were a mercenary company, primarily consisting of humani, that fought for any side given the right price. Though they styled themselves knights, they were anything but knightly. Each member was given the title Sir as well as an epithet (for example, Sir Dayne the Brave). Given his rapidly graying hair even before he reached his twilight years, Gellert wqs dubbed Sir Gellert the Grey. He racked up a respectable sum of gold fighting with the Knights, but committed no small number of crimes in the process, mostly out of peer pressure. He was given the idea that the world was inherently dark despite its beautiful exterior and the only way to survive was following the nature of it.
Twenty years Gellert spent with the Rogue Knights, becoming one of their most senior members. A turning point came when the company was ambushed by the opposing force. A bloodbath ensued, heavy casualties suffered on both sides. The Knights were forced to retreat, but Gellert was picked off in the rout, thrown into the raging river rapids and left for dead. He would've drowned under the current and died were it not for the kindness of an itinerant water spirit who pulled him out of the current. Given his condition, said water spirit brought her to her home in Norione Village to care for him (with the help of trained Fae healers). He recovered in no time and was invited to stay in the Village for a while. Gellert learned many things in his stay, chief among them water magic, taught by the water spirit that saved his life. The peaceful, serene environment and proximity to the beauty of nature also proved beneficial for his physical and mental health. His faith in the world was restored after being corrupted.
Eventually, his stay came to an end and Gellert was implored to return to his people, but not without given a gift first. The people of Norione Village were not people of warfare, but they have ancient weapons in case they come under attack. He was given two such weapons. First, a short sword (Fae longsword) of enchanted steel that is especially potent against creatures of the dark. The second was a dagger (Fae shortsword) that can conceal the wielder in shadows when held. The two blades are named Dire and Kelen, respectively. They would prove useful for him in future adventures.
Gellert is now back on the path of a mercenary. Though a resident of Wellborough, he often wanders the land to seek out bounties and troublesome monsters to slay. He aims to help the prosperity of Terra's people and thinks he has no place in the Raziel-Alithe conflict. Rather, Raziel and Alithe have no place here and should take their magical war elsewhere.
Lately, that conflict has raged more than he had ever known. It seems likely that he would be pulled into it. Yet Gellert wants none of that life. If need be, he will destroy both Alithe and Raziel, not in that particular order, to ensure the world stays in peace and freedom.
Basic Information
Full Name: Gellert Formonde
Age: 47 (so he claims)
Gender: Male
Birth Date: 01/01
Race: Humani
Alignment: Neutral
Appearance
Hair Color: Grey
Eye Color: Beady blue
Face Shape: Square, chiseled, a light stubble covering his chin and lining his jawline
Skin Tone: Pale olive
Height: 182 cm/5'9"
Weight: 75 kg/165 lb
Body Type: Muscular, battle-worn
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): A singular gash across the left side of his lips, several old scars on his chest and back
Tattoo(s): One on his right shoulder; black outline of a lidded eye lined with inverse pentagramic spikes (img)
Personality
Gellert is nothing but a mysterious figure. Often coming as swiftly as the rain and vanishing without a trace just as fast, he's demure, mysterious and strictly professional with his dealings. No matter how hard you try, you'll find it almost impossible to get into his head. His thoughts are a mystery to everyone but himself and only the most perceptive can outline a pattern in his seemingly erratic and unpredictable judgment. Usually a quiet man who keeps to himself and doesn't let anyone pry at his past, Gellert has a penchant for wit and sarcastic remarks whenever he is stuck into a conversation. Generally, he doesn't go around and pick fights with people he knows to have no quarrel with. Despite his known profession as a shady mercenary and bounty hunter, he's quite peace-loving out of the job and a pleasant man all around. Just very, very intimidating, even when he doesn't mean to.
3 Words: Witty, Unpredictable, Scary
Like(s): The woods, kids, good music, magic (sleight of hand, not sorcery), money, alcohol
Dislike(s): Minstrels, thieves, wanton destruction, swimming, arrogance, being disrespected, monsters
Want(s): Family, home and a peaceful life
Fear(s): Drowning
Favorite...
Color(s): Grey
Time of Day: Evening
Food: Roasted river mackerel on a stick
Animal: Wolf
Place in Terra: Norione Village
Skills and Attributes
Skills
Special ability(s): Gellert wants to keep this under wraps as much as possible (for the shock value), but he is able to shapeshift into a number of various animals. Specifically, a wolf, an owl and a frog. Transformations take about a second at most and last indefinitely as long as he has energy and consciousness.
Good at...: Swordsmanship, primarily. Gellert is an exemplar fighter and can overpower most opponents in an honorable one-on-one duel. His stay at Norione Village gave him the knowledge of water magic. He is also good at simple cooking, stealth, lying and combat acrobatics.
Bad at...: Archery. Gellert has always been fascinated the rangers of the wood and wanted to emulate their masterful marksmanship. However, he never could get the hang of aiming and eventually abandoned that aspiration for simpler bladeworks. He's also notably incompetent at flirting, penmanship (his handwriting is sloppier that chicken scratches), dealing with thirst and also putting thoughts into words.
Traits
Good Habit(s): Gellert has tremendous respect for nature and its children and it shows in his day-to-day life. He also has peerless diligence and work ethic.
Bad Habit(s): He's unfortunately quite antisocial and detached, detesting having to interact beyond what is rational (in his eyes). Gellert also likes to binge drink.
History
The Past
Little is known about the origins of Gellert Formonde. He is an unreliable storyteller and rumors about his past are equally dubious. What is certain, however, is that he's lowborn, the son of peasant workers from Wellborough. Both of his parents were shapeshifters and he inherited their ability, able to shift into his favorite animals (wolves, owls and frogs). His life was modest and wasn't filled with much troubles. Not much fortune, either. Some time before he came of age, his father began teaching him how to properly handle a sword, himself being a former brigand that turned a new leaf when he found love with a brothel worker, leading of course to Gellert. As it turns out, he inherited his father's combat savviness; the sword flowed so easily in his arms. He could easily duke it out with his father at such an early age.
At his parent's suggestion, Gellert took up the work of a sellsword, lending his fighting skills where the money was right. He found steady work and camaraderie with the Rogue Knights. They were a mercenary company, primarily consisting of humani, that fought for any side given the right price. Though they styled themselves knights, they were anything but knightly. Each member was given the title Sir as well as an epithet (for example, Sir Dayne the Brave). Given his rapidly graying hair even before he reached his twilight years, Gellert wqs dubbed Sir Gellert the Grey. He racked up a respectable sum of gold fighting with the Knights, but committed no small number of crimes in the process, mostly out of peer pressure. He was given the idea that the world was inherently dark despite its beautiful exterior and the only way to survive was following the nature of it.
Twenty years Gellert spent with the Rogue Knights, becoming one of their most senior members. A turning point came when the company was ambushed by the opposing force. A bloodbath ensued, heavy casualties suffered on both sides. The Knights were forced to retreat, but Gellert was picked off in the rout, thrown into the raging river rapids and left for dead. He would've drowned under the current and died were it not for the kindness of an itinerant water spirit who pulled him out of the current. Given his condition, said water spirit brought her to her home in Norione Village to care for him (with the help of trained Fae healers). He recovered in no time and was invited to stay in the Village for a while. Gellert learned many things in his stay, chief among them water magic, taught by the water spirit that saved his life. The peaceful, serene environment and proximity to the beauty of nature also proved beneficial for his physical and mental health. His faith in the world was restored after being corrupted.
Eventually, his stay came to an end and Gellert was implored to return to his people, but not without given a gift first. The people of Norione Village were not people of warfare, but they have ancient weapons in case they come under attack. He was given two such weapons. First, a short sword (Fae longsword) of enchanted steel that is especially potent against creatures of the dark. The second was a dagger (Fae shortsword) that can conceal the wielder in shadows when held. The two blades are named Dire and Kelen, respectively. They would prove useful for him in future adventures.
The Present
Gellert is now back on the path of a mercenary. Though a resident of Wellborough, he often wanders the land to seek out bounties and troublesome monsters to slay. He aims to help the prosperity of Terra's people and thinks he has no place in the Raziel-Alithe conflict. Rather, Raziel and Alithe have no place here and should take their magical war elsewhere.
Lately, that conflict has raged more than he had ever known. It seems likely that he would be pulled into it. Yet Gellert wants none of that life. If need be, he will destroy both Alithe and Raziel, not in that particular order, to ensure the world stays in peace and freedom.
Scyntell I am the fish king!
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
All these wonderful CS'es makes me quite antsy for the IC to start haha.
Soragoku the kame style is with you
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
All these wonderful CS'es makes me quite antsy for the IC to start haha.
word
GM
Emuxe Addicted to italics.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Protip: A good place to find character images is here.
I'm finally inside after nearly fuckin 5 hours on the side of the road. =_____=
I'll read over the CSes now, then do the thing.
I'm finally inside after nearly fuckin 5 hours on the side of the road. =_____=
I'll read over the CSes now, then do the thing.
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