I've been stuck on the history section for a while but yeah, I'm almost done too.
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FrozenEcstasy The Wayfaring Killjoy
Member
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4 yrs ago
Levranelle Reverante
"The dead bless us with their wisdom, the living curse us with their ignorance."
23 | Human | Mage-Eyes
P E R S O N A L I T Y
❖ [Eccentric]
❖ [Headstrong]
❖ [Wise]
❖ [Empathetic]
❖ [Teasing]
❖ [Headstrong]
❖ [Wise]
❖ [Empathetic]
❖ [Teasing]
Levranelle has always been one to boggle the mind. His constant blabbering of seeming jibberish is enough to unnerve most, if not that then the piercing gaze of his will. He'll often go on and on about his pet cat Snuffles, and seems to obsess over his livelihood. He gets rather upset if you talk down to him or his cat, and will often retaliate with a sharp tongue and a swift kick to the groin. Almost seemingly to top it off, he insists he sees the souls of the dead, and can often times be found talking to the open air with vivid language explaining things to said souls. Many deem him to be insane, but others believe this probably isn't the case.
A P P E A R A N C E
Peel back the hood and find him when he's scantily clothed and most free, Levranelle is a rather androgynous character, his dark brown, silky, long hair making it easy to mistake him as a woman from behind, and the odd youthfulness of his face making the puzzle of his gender even harder, if not for his obvious lack of breasts and feminine curves. He has few to no lines on his brow depending on his expression, and no obvious blemishes on his face. Every feature of his is somewhat elegant, from his thin brows to a full, set of impossibly pink, lips. Most notably, his eyes are piercing and yellow, in the darkness they seem rather normal if not for the color, but in the light the pupils contract into a thin line much like a cat and give away his magical nature.
Lev is rather lithe, but does not immediately seem to have much muscle. It has lead to him seeming far younger than he actually is, travellers often mistaking him for someone's errand boy. He is not of a tall stature either, evening out at about 5'6". He often wears a loose fitting shirt with a rather low neckline, and pants that flow loosely over his legs. When out and about he covers himself with a long purple scarf, made of a thin material, that he can use as a hood.
H I S T O R Y
Levranelle entered the world in tragic circumstances. His father had died while "peace-keeping" with the Army of Heroes, leaving his mother to suffer the pregnancy herself. Lev was born breech, and the battle to get him out of the womb left his mother on her deathbed. Under the fool moon, his mother cradled him in her dying breaths, and whispered into the night that one day Lev would grow up to be a man with gentle hands and a heart so pure the Promised Words would one day speak of his own soul to conjure hope in the darkness. Inspired by her daughter's words, Lev's grandmother Agatha vowed to raise him according to her daughter's last reverie.
It was to be difficult, however, as Levranelle was a handful for his grandmother. He would constantly get lost in his own imagination and wander away from their cottage outside the village. She knew he would get himself lost one day, so she emplored the town for a pet for her grandson. Enter Snuffles, the long time best friend of Lev. Snuffles von Leoparte kept Lev's attention constantly, and kept Lev around the cottage long enough for him to pay attention to his grandmother's work.
Agatha was the town's healer, a hedgewitch whom healed with potions and words of power. She was like a grandmother to much of the town of Alonso, kind and gentle, and always there to offer a wise word and a kind touch. As he grew older, Lev was fascinated by the respect she garnered, and when a day came and past where she healed Snuffles of an illness, Levranelle decided for himself that he would learn from her.
On her eventual deathbed, Agatha reminisced of her life alongside Lev and Snuffles and a few of the women from the village. She told Levranelle of his mother's wishes for him, and told him that no matter what he should always try and bring hope to their town. She emplored him to take over in her stead. As her final act as his grandmother, Agatha cast a spell on Snuffles, binding his life to Lev so they would never part, and ensure her grandson was never alone.
Days after her funeral, the grief-stricken Lev began to see her ghost, unspeaking but always nearby, approving and disapproving, always just barely out of vision. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or was that really her? Unwilling to find out he accepted these visions of her. Overtime it was not just her spectre he'd see dancing right outside his vision, he'd see ghosts of his ancestors, of men and women in town he had witnessed die.
Years later, now firmly the new healer of the community, Lev claims he converses with the ghosts regularly, and that some of them guide him to new revelations of the world, and warn him of the dangers they once faced. If ever a newcomer comes to town and needs his servives, he often lets them know that the dead see all, and that it's unwise to cause a disturbance in his town.
I N V E N T O R Y
❖ [A ceremonial blade of a dark colored steel]
❖ [A large over-the-shoulder bag used for carrying an assortment of potions and other things]
❖ [A smaller bag used for coin]
❖ [Dried meat-treats for Snuffles to keep him sated]
❖ [6-7 Potions used to treat flesh wounds, and a few others he claims help grow hair or make the skin look youthful]
O T H E R
Unlike the rest of our "heroes" Levranelle has spent his entire life up until now in Alonso. He lives in his grandmother's cottage a good walk just outside the village and has a store of supplies the party can pull from before they begin their journey.
Life in Stasis pretentious jerk
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Levranelle Reverante
"The dead bless us with their wisdom, the living curse us with their ignorance."23 | Human | Mage-EyesP E R S O N A L I T Y❖ [Eccentric]
❖ [Headstrong]
❖ [Wise]
❖ [Empathetic]
❖ [Teasing]
Levranelle has always been one to boggle the mind. His constant blabbering of seeming jibberish is enough to unnerve most, if not that then the piercing gaze of his will. He'll often go on and on about his pet cat Snuffles, and seems to obsess over his livelihood. He gets rather upset if you talk down to him or his cat, and will often retaliate with a sharp tongue and a swift kick to the groin. Almost seemingly to top it off, he insists he sees the souls of the dead, and can often times be found talking to the open air with vivid language explaining things to said souls. Many deem him to be insane, but others believe this probably isn't the case.A P P E A R A N C E
Peel back the hood and find him when he's scantily clothed and most free, Levranelle is a rather androgynous character, his dark brown, silky, long hair making it easy to mistake him as a woman from behind, and the odd youthfulness of his face making the puzzle of his gender even harder, if not for his obvious lack of breasts and feminine curves. He has few to no lines on his brow depending on his expression, and no obvious blemishes on his face. Every feature of his is somewhat elegant, from his thin brows to a full, set of impossibly pink, lips. Most notably, his eyes are piercing and yellow, in the darkness they seem rather normal if not for the color, but in the light the pupils contract into a thin line much like a cat and give away his magical nature.
Lev is rather lithe, but does not immediately seem to have much muscle. It has lead to him seeming far younger than he actually is, travellers often mistaking him for someone's errand boy. He is not of a tall stature either, evening out at about 5'6". He often wears a loose fitting shirt with a rather low neckline, and pants that flow loosely over his legs. When out and about he covers himself with a long purple scarf, made of a thin material, that he can use as a hood.H I S T O R Y
Levranelle entered the world in tragic circumstances. His father had died while "peace-keeping" with the Army of Heroes, leaving his mother to suffer the pregnancy herself. Lev was born breech, and the battle to get him out of the womb left his mother on her deathbed. Under the fool moon, his mother cradled him in her dying breaths, and whispered into the night that one day Lev would grow up to be a man with gentle hands and a heart so pure the Promised Words would one day speak of his own soul to conjure hope in the darkness. Inspired by her daughter's words, Lev's grandmother Agatha vowed to raise him according to her daughter's last reverie.
It was to be difficult, however, as Levranelle was a handful for his grandmother. He would constantly get lost in his own imagination and wander away from their cottage outside the village. She knew he would get himself lost one day, so she emplored the town for a pet for her grandson. Enter Snuffles, the long time best friend of Lev. Snuffles von Leoparte kept Lev's attention constantly, and kept Lev around the cottage long enough for him to pay attention to his grandmother's work.
Agatha was the town's healer, a hedgewitch whom healed with potions and words of power. She was like a grandmother to much of the town of Alonso, kind and gentle, and always there to offer a wise word and a kind touch. As he grew older, Lev was fascinated by the respect she garnered, and when a day came and past where she healed Snuffles of an illness, Levranelle decided for himself that he would learn from her.
On her eventual deathbed, Agatha reminisced of her life alongside Lev and Snuffles and a few of the women from the village. She told Levranelle of his mother's wishes for him, and told him that no matter what he should always try and bring hope to their town. She emplored him to take over in her stead. As her final act as his grandmother, Agatha cast a spell on Snuffles, binding his life to Lev so they would never part, and ensure her grandson was never alone.
Days after her funeral, the grief-stricken Lev began to see her ghost, unspeaking but always nearby, approving and disapproving, always just barely out of vision. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or was that really her? Unwilling to find out he accepted these visions of her. Overtime it was not just her spectre he'd see dancing right outside his vision, he'd see ghosts of his ancestors, of men and women in town he had witnessed die.
Years later, now firmly the new healer of the community, Lev claims he converses with the ghosts regularly, and that some of them guide him to new revelations of the world, and warn him of the dangers they once faced. If ever a newcomer comes to town and needs his servives, he often lets them know that the dead see all, and that it's unwise to cause a disturbance in his town.I N V E N T O R Y
❖ [A ceremonial blade of a dark colored steel]
❖ [A large over-the-shoulder bag used for carrying an assortment of potions and other things]
❖ [A smaller bag used for coin]
❖ [Dried meat-treats for Snuffles to keep him sated]
❖ [6-7 Potions used to treat flesh wounds, and a few others he claims help grow hair or make the skin look youthful]O T H E R
Unlike the rest of our "heroes" Levranelle has spent his entire life up until now in Alonso. He lives in his grandmother's cottage a good walk just outside the village and has a store of supplies the party can pull from before they begin their journey.
Ah, hey cool I know that artist. I once commissioned omupied for a portrait of my friend's character, which is still on her devArt page.
Also interesting that he's already a permanent resident of Alonso. It might be worth noting that Ansi is a recent member of Alonso's militia/town guard (which is presumably tiny). It's worth noting to me, at least, that barring any character changes, my character would certainly be aware of yours already.
FrozenEcstasy The Wayfaring Killjoy
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
<Snipped quote by FrozenEcstasy>
Ah, hey cool I know that artist. I once commissioned omupied for a portrait of my friend's character, which is still on her devArt page.
Also interesting that he's already a permanent resident of Alonso. It might be worth noting that Ansi is a recent member of Alonso's militia/town guard (which is presumably tiny). It's worth noting to me, at least, that barring any character changes, my character would certainly be aware of yours already.
Oh nice! If you wanna make up any back story that'd be cool! Maybe like a unique visit to the healer cause you got a few scrapes or something.
GM
I've been stuck on the history section for a while but yeah, I'm almost done too.
Like I mentioned over PM, and this applies to everyone else as well, I really don't mind vague histories, or histories that are a bit loosely defined. Just make sure they give a strong feeling of what kind of person your character is.
@FrozenEcstasy Rad! I'll give you a more in depth critique tomorrow afternoon, but he's looking good from what I skimmed.
1x Thank
@Oddsbod Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I just need to muster the motivation to sit down and write it, because I hate writing character sheets altogether, but history sections most of all. 
BingTheWing menace to society
Member
Seen
11 mos ago
@Oddsbod Heads up, I'm probably not gonna make a decent character in time for the first IC post.
But I am still making a character lol
But I am still making a character lol
GM
@Oddsbod Heads up, I'm probably not gonna make a decent character in time for the first IC post.
But I am still making a character lol
Oh I think you overestimate how fast and responsibly I can work friendo.
I would expect the IC post to go up in, oh, I dunno, sometime in the middle of next week maybe. Not anytime within the next immediate few days. Like potatoes and molasses, I often move at a droopy, gooey, and fascinatingly slow pace.
BingTheWing menace to society
Member
Seen
11 mos ago
@Oddsbod Would mountaineers and/or spelunkers be needed anywhere in Invernier?
GM
@Oddsbod Would mountaineers and/or spelunkers be needed anywhere in Invernier?
I could see mountaineers being needed in Redemption, to help navigate some of the dangerous mountain passes, though I have no idea how a mountaineer from the far north (oh shit just realized I need to put a key on the map for how many miles a certain distance is) would end up in a small town in the far southwest, especially since there isn't all that much mountaineering to do inside the valley.
Elves would definitely have caving and some general mountaineering experience, and I could maybe see the Gestalt elves possibly employing human workers in their mines, or a human seeking apprenticeship there, in one of the more open Gestalted cities.
huh, somehow I completely missed the posting of the OOC - yup, no records of this RP popping up in my notifications. Weird. Anyway, will get to work shortly.
Edit: @Oddsbod - here he is, my bard. I've forgone the elvish race for a human instead. I'll give it another look over when I'm sober. I do my best writing drunk after all. Or at least drunk me thinks so. Do I need to provide a list of known spells? None of the others have, so I skipped on it for now.
artist:http://takeda11.deviantart.com/
This is mainly for a facial reference, the plate armor doesn't really match my character.
Subtle but charismatic, Odran appears warm-hearted but pragmatic. His lazy and relaxed demeanor is occasionally mistaken for carelessness. Underneath his relaxed persona lies an innate cunning, a highly intuitive and perceptive mind. Despite his lazy demeanor, Odran is a dedicated scholar and storyteller, boasting considerable knowledge of geography, and history. His moral compass is relatively grey, and will act on what is to the benefit of himself and his companions as opposed to what is morally right.
Broad shouldered and tall, Odran looks more like a veteran warrior than he does a travelling bard. His posture is decidedly casual, but his build is obviously of one used to travelling. Course black hair with flecks of gray are pulled into a short ponytail and his beard is the salt-and-pepper deal of a man past his prime. His skin is lightly tanned and travel-worn, and his mouth is typical worn in a wry grin. His face has a single visible scar cutting inbetween his right eyebrow. His grey eyes are devoid of visible pupils, and seem to constantly swirl with some sort of milky-foggy liquid or substance. His voice has lost its youth, bright and clean tenor tones replaced by more mature, gravelly bass.
Like many other travelers in Tempesta, Odran's frame is often covered by a thick brown hooded cloak, its bottom edges fraying and dirty from the mud, dirt, and grime of the outside. A slight clink can be heard as he walks, underneath his cloak wears a shirt of mail and leather over a thick long sleeved shirt for a modicum of protection. Thick breeches are tucked into a pair of worn leather boots and are secured in place by a wide leather belt. In a belt worn across his chest, are four sheathed daggers. He blends in well with the other tired travelers of the Tempesta, and his only notable ornament is a pendant he wears over his clothes, a silver raven's skull hanging on a dense cord.
On his back, Odran carries the entirety of his worldly belongings in a leather rucksack. His belongings few, the rucksack often appears partially deflated, as Odran often opts to hang many of his belongings off of the rucksack instead of placing them inside. A waterskin, hangs on the rucksack's back, and a sheathed sword wrapped in a bedroll are strapped to its top.
An aging storyteller hailing from the northern regions of Tempesta. Odran was born as Braum Samson, in a small and unremarkable town in the Causeway. The second son of the family that ran the local inn and tavern. Though Braum's town was simple and poor, it was still a fairly regular stopping point, being on one of the few maintained roads between the Tempesta and Andrea's Fault. Braum spent most of his childhood helping out around the inn, carrying food and drink to weary travelers and would often listen to the travels and stories of those when came and went through the Causeway. Much of Braum's knowledge of the world outside the tavern came from the words and tales of others- be they truthful or not.
As Braum matured, he joined the town's small militia, and was trained by an aging, irksome old member of the Army of Heroes. As the Army of Heroes was the primary military force in the town, hiring only the most promising of individuals, the rest of the town's militia were little more than a group of auxillaries that defended the tiny town from the occasional monster, or rare bandit and thief when the Army of Heroes couldn't be bothered to, and typically just defended the town from rowdy drunks and inebriated travelers. As a result, even with his new profession, Braum spent much of his teen years in the inn he grew up in, doing much of the same that he did as a child. Though now that he was older, and held the status of a warrior- albiet a small time and simple one, he would often take the stories of others, and spin them off as his own to visiting travelers, and gained a knack for reciting things he had heard in a more amusing or compelling way.
After a leg injury forced Braum to temporarily take his leave from the guard, he returned to his family's inn and served as a barkeep at the age of twenty. It was sometime during the next few years that Braum met his soon to be mentor, a travelling mage and storyteller by the name of Odran. Originally just another traveler passing through the Causeway, Braum found himself drawn to the storyteller, mystified and and cautious of at the same time. Unlike other humans, Odran's eyes were entirely white, which marked him as a man of magic, and while in the tavern, very few locals outside of Braum himself interacted with the magical storyteller.
Braum occasionally tried to impress the storyteller with his own stories- tales of others he had appropriated for himself. Odran with some sort of mysterious foresight- or plain logic, easily poked out flaws and falsehoods in the young man's stories, asking how could a man that had never left his village have any stories to tell. Eventually, Odran the storyteller left the town, and Braum followed him, his youthful curiosity getting the better of him.
Managing not to die in his first few months of travelling with Odran, the old storyteller finally took him in and began teaching him the intricacies of Concordance, the magic of Julieta Sinqueleur, youngest of the legendary Nine Sisters. A natural, Braum picked up the basics quite easily, and along with musical lessons in various instruments from Odran, became the face of their new two-man bardic duo. His younger voice and unwarped eyes more pleasant to behold than the older man's coarse gravel and unseemly eyes. The pair traveled together for close to a decade, Braum slowly shifting from a youthful singer, to a deep voiced bard in his own right.
Odran would eventually pass away, but not before granting Braum as many of his secrets as he could. As an ode to his mentor's legacy, Braum took on the name of Odran Tarlach, casting aside his old name for the moniker of the old storyteller and bard. His eyes had become lost by that point, and significance of his old name with it.
Now Odran Tarlach, with the mantle of his mentor, took to traveling the Tempesta much like his old mentor. Odran managed to survive the war and bloodshed between the Legion and Army of Heroes by avoiding it as best he could, escaping this dark time alive, but not completely unscathed. Having honed his craft over the course of a decade, Odran now travels from town to town plying his craft and following his mentor's goals- seeking out the lost songs of Julieta Sinqueleur.
❖ An aging steel sword of decent craftsmanship, its blade rusted in places but still sturdy and serviceable.
❖ A quartet of enchanted throwing daggers, formerly the property of Odran's mentor. Intricate enchantments cause them to begin slowly and gradually fading from existence after being drawn, reappearing in their sheaths a minute later.
❖ A cittern, along with a few spools of wire to replace broken strings
❖ A harmonica
❖ A Book of Concordance: spells, songs, and music written on parchment and bound by thick leather covers.
❖ A pouch of herbs and a pipe.
❖ A rucksack carrying all a traveler would need - a spare set of clothes, dried rations, a waterskin, bedroll, flint, and the like.
Anything that doesn’t fit in the other sections? Throw it here!
Can't think of anything else at the moment.
Edit: @Oddsbod - here he is, my bard. I've forgone the elvish race for a human instead. I'll give it another look over when I'm sober. I do my best writing drunk after all. Or at least drunk me thinks so. Do I need to provide a list of known spells? None of the others have, so I skipped on it for now.
Odran Tarlach
artist:http://takeda11.deviantart.com/
This is mainly for a facial reference, the plate armor doesn't really match my character.
"The stroke of a plume, the strum of a string, the scream of a blade, the slumber of the Efertide."
42 | Human | Mage-Eyes
P E R S O N A L I T Y
❖ Charismatic
❖ Knowledgeable
❖ Warm-hearted
❖ Pragmatic
❖ Perceptive
❖ Knowledgeable
❖ Warm-hearted
❖ Pragmatic
❖ Perceptive
Subtle but charismatic, Odran appears warm-hearted but pragmatic. His lazy and relaxed demeanor is occasionally mistaken for carelessness. Underneath his relaxed persona lies an innate cunning, a highly intuitive and perceptive mind. Despite his lazy demeanor, Odran is a dedicated scholar and storyteller, boasting considerable knowledge of geography, and history. His moral compass is relatively grey, and will act on what is to the benefit of himself and his companions as opposed to what is morally right.
A P P E A R A N C E
Broad shouldered and tall, Odran looks more like a veteran warrior than he does a travelling bard. His posture is decidedly casual, but his build is obviously of one used to travelling. Course black hair with flecks of gray are pulled into a short ponytail and his beard is the salt-and-pepper deal of a man past his prime. His skin is lightly tanned and travel-worn, and his mouth is typical worn in a wry grin. His face has a single visible scar cutting inbetween his right eyebrow. His grey eyes are devoid of visible pupils, and seem to constantly swirl with some sort of milky-foggy liquid or substance. His voice has lost its youth, bright and clean tenor tones replaced by more mature, gravelly bass.
Like many other travelers in Tempesta, Odran's frame is often covered by a thick brown hooded cloak, its bottom edges fraying and dirty from the mud, dirt, and grime of the outside. A slight clink can be heard as he walks, underneath his cloak wears a shirt of mail and leather over a thick long sleeved shirt for a modicum of protection. Thick breeches are tucked into a pair of worn leather boots and are secured in place by a wide leather belt. In a belt worn across his chest, are four sheathed daggers. He blends in well with the other tired travelers of the Tempesta, and his only notable ornament is a pendant he wears over his clothes, a silver raven's skull hanging on a dense cord.
On his back, Odran carries the entirety of his worldly belongings in a leather rucksack. His belongings few, the rucksack often appears partially deflated, as Odran often opts to hang many of his belongings off of the rucksack instead of placing them inside. A waterskin, hangs on the rucksack's back, and a sheathed sword wrapped in a bedroll are strapped to its top.
H I S T O R Y
An aging storyteller hailing from the northern regions of Tempesta. Odran was born as Braum Samson, in a small and unremarkable town in the Causeway. The second son of the family that ran the local inn and tavern. Though Braum's town was simple and poor, it was still a fairly regular stopping point, being on one of the few maintained roads between the Tempesta and Andrea's Fault. Braum spent most of his childhood helping out around the inn, carrying food and drink to weary travelers and would often listen to the travels and stories of those when came and went through the Causeway. Much of Braum's knowledge of the world outside the tavern came from the words and tales of others- be they truthful or not.
As Braum matured, he joined the town's small militia, and was trained by an aging, irksome old member of the Army of Heroes. As the Army of Heroes was the primary military force in the town, hiring only the most promising of individuals, the rest of the town's militia were little more than a group of auxillaries that defended the tiny town from the occasional monster, or rare bandit and thief when the Army of Heroes couldn't be bothered to, and typically just defended the town from rowdy drunks and inebriated travelers. As a result, even with his new profession, Braum spent much of his teen years in the inn he grew up in, doing much of the same that he did as a child. Though now that he was older, and held the status of a warrior- albiet a small time and simple one, he would often take the stories of others, and spin them off as his own to visiting travelers, and gained a knack for reciting things he had heard in a more amusing or compelling way.
After a leg injury forced Braum to temporarily take his leave from the guard, he returned to his family's inn and served as a barkeep at the age of twenty. It was sometime during the next few years that Braum met his soon to be mentor, a travelling mage and storyteller by the name of Odran. Originally just another traveler passing through the Causeway, Braum found himself drawn to the storyteller, mystified and and cautious of at the same time. Unlike other humans, Odran's eyes were entirely white, which marked him as a man of magic, and while in the tavern, very few locals outside of Braum himself interacted with the magical storyteller.
Braum occasionally tried to impress the storyteller with his own stories- tales of others he had appropriated for himself. Odran with some sort of mysterious foresight- or plain logic, easily poked out flaws and falsehoods in the young man's stories, asking how could a man that had never left his village have any stories to tell. Eventually, Odran the storyteller left the town, and Braum followed him, his youthful curiosity getting the better of him.
Managing not to die in his first few months of travelling with Odran, the old storyteller finally took him in and began teaching him the intricacies of Concordance, the magic of Julieta Sinqueleur, youngest of the legendary Nine Sisters. A natural, Braum picked up the basics quite easily, and along with musical lessons in various instruments from Odran, became the face of their new two-man bardic duo. His younger voice and unwarped eyes more pleasant to behold than the older man's coarse gravel and unseemly eyes. The pair traveled together for close to a decade, Braum slowly shifting from a youthful singer, to a deep voiced bard in his own right.
Odran would eventually pass away, but not before granting Braum as many of his secrets as he could. As an ode to his mentor's legacy, Braum took on the name of Odran Tarlach, casting aside his old name for the moniker of the old storyteller and bard. His eyes had become lost by that point, and significance of his old name with it.
Now Odran Tarlach, with the mantle of his mentor, took to traveling the Tempesta much like his old mentor. Odran managed to survive the war and bloodshed between the Legion and Army of Heroes by avoiding it as best he could, escaping this dark time alive, but not completely unscathed. Having honed his craft over the course of a decade, Odran now travels from town to town plying his craft and following his mentor's goals- seeking out the lost songs of Julieta Sinqueleur.
I N V E N T O R Y
❖ An aging steel sword of decent craftsmanship, its blade rusted in places but still sturdy and serviceable.
❖ A quartet of enchanted throwing daggers, formerly the property of Odran's mentor. Intricate enchantments cause them to begin slowly and gradually fading from existence after being drawn, reappearing in their sheaths a minute later.
❖ A cittern, along with a few spools of wire to replace broken strings
❖ A harmonica
❖ A Book of Concordance: spells, songs, and music written on parchment and bound by thick leather covers.
❖ A pouch of herbs and a pipe.
❖ A rucksack carrying all a traveler would need - a spare set of clothes, dried rations, a waterskin, bedroll, flint, and the like.
O T H E R
Anything that doesn’t fit in the other sections? Throw it here!
Can't think of anything else at the moment.
Force and Fury Actually kind of mellow
Member
Seen
5 days ago
CrimsonAmaranth Rogue Nerd
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
@Oddsbod Finally finished a draft of my proposed character. I would have posted this a couple days ago, but doesn't life just always get in the way? I think I'll probably tweak a couple things, but hopefully things look good, and let me know what needs changing or redoing! Also, I'll be PM'ing you shortly with a couple questions and details. Looking forward to the RP! :)
Almari has always been very inquisitive, eager to gain new knowledge and skills, always wanting to learn new information. Her curiosity often gets the best of her however, and leads her down paths that are probably unwise. She is very focused, and when she wants something she is not easily swayed until she has it. She can be somewhat greedy and self-centered. She has a fine eye for expensive items and luxuries, but she doesn’t often let herself indulge in such things outwardly, as she doesn’t like to draw attention to herself. Almari is usually quite calm in her manner, and rarely loses her temper fully. She tends to be more neutral, though all the same she can be quick to smile or add a smart or sarcastic comment to the conversation.
Almari, at 5’6”, is somewhat tall for her kind, but like other elves she too is thin and somewhat gaunt, with smooth, light grey skin, long, pointed ears, and a lean build. Almari has long, pin-straight black hair that falls just above her waist, and somewhat unsettling eyes due to her forays into magic. She has sharp, if elegant features. Almari has a long nose, high cheekbones and sharp brows.
Almari prefers simple, yet well made clothing in dark colors. She often wears a plain tunic under a fitted jerkin of worn leather, and close fitting breeches tucked into tall leather boots. Like many travelers in the Tempesta, she wears a long, black cloak with a hood she usually keeps up to keep people from getting too good a look at her eyes. The only bits of adornment she wears are the multiple silver rings and gem studs in her long ears, and a raw amethyst crystal hanging from a thick bronze chain, usually tucked beneath her tunic.
Almari grew up in the large city of Evenwell, an underground city within the Elven Gestalt. Almari’s family was somewhat poor, struggling but still managing to get by. Her father was a miner, a common profession for Elven men in the area. Her mother however was a tad more unusual, being a relatively well-known singer in their part of the city. Almari’s early childhood was quite happy, as she spent much of her time helping her mother around the house and looking after her younger sister. Her mother was focused on giving Almari as much education as possible, though they had few books to study from. She also taught Almari the songs she knew, and later taught her a couple of spells she could weave into such songs. They were simple, small spells at first. Almari, ever curious, was fascinated by the magic, though her mother warned her to use it sparingly, lest it warp her eyes. Still, Almari continued to practice it here and there when no one was watching.
When she turned thirteen, her parents arranged an apprenticeship for her with a local fine jeweler, hoping that she would learn a respectable trade and increase her standing later in life. Almari found the work interesting, and loved being able to see the fine jewels and delicate gold and silver wire, and all the beautiful things that could be crafted out of it. For a time, things progressed smoothly, but then her father became ill when Almari was fifteen . At first it appeared to be nothing more than a passing cough, but it refused to go away, and soon worsened instead. Her father began missing days of work, as did her mother when she stayed to take care of him. Food started disappearing from the table, then what few valuable items they had were sold as his state worsened. After the first night they went without supper, Almari pocketed two jewels from the workshop she apprenticed at, quickly selling them to a small shop owner in a distant neighborhood. This act, seemingly small, started her off down a dangerous path. More and more, she would look for things to take, food or a new scarf to grab from a stall as she walked down the street. Her parents questioned where these new things came from, but as her father missed more and more work, they began to stop asking those questions.
Almari began looking for larger jewels and more expensive items, driven by a desire to help her own family as well as a greedy drive of her own. She soon became acquainted with questionable figures to whom she could sell a jewel or two, and made a few deals with these new friends to pick up other skills, such as how to pick a lock or scale a wall. She even found ways in which the musical spells her mother had taught her could be used to move unseen, and sneak into places she really shouldn’t be.
Things escalated for a year, with her father’s condition worsening and Almari becoming bolder and bolder in her little thefts. When she turned sixteen, several things happened in quick succession. Her father was forced to leave his job entirely, and when they discovered what medicine would be needed to treat his illness, it was not cheap. Almari had been too careless in more ways than one, and just as the people at the workshop began looking for culprits behind missing materials, she noticed her eyes beginning to change as well. The master jeweler accused Almari of the thefts, and when he could not prove it, he fired her. He had already been talking to the city guards, and Almari decided in desperation to break into the home of a wealthy merchant in the city. She almost escaped with both his wife’s fine jewels and her safety, but a misstep alerted the household and nearby guards to her presence, and she barely managed to make it away in time. Almari managed to fence the goods that night and get the money to her family, but the guards were out looking for her by then. She confessed what had happened to her family, and despite her parents’ feelings of guilt for what they saw as their fault, and their protests, she was forced to bid them a quick and tearful farewell before fleeing the city.
After that she flitted from city to city in Gestalt, trying to get messages to her family when she could, and even visiting them on occasion. Over time, her continued use of magic to aid in her thieving warped her eyes fully, causing suspicious glances wherever she went. She continued to go after more and more conspicuous items, regardless of the increased risks. While at first she told herself she did what she did to help her family, her own selfish interests and desire to go after more and more did not help her. She liked the bits of luxury and the thrill of taking risks and trying to increase her skills at lifting a purse or climbing through a window unseen. When it seemed like trouble was about to catch up with her, she decided to leave Gestalt altogether, ensuring that her actions wouldn’t get back to negatively impacting her family and that she would stay out of prison.
Since then she has rarely stayed in one place long. Almari was not completely unused to humans, but she was not yet comfortable living among them, especially above ground. She continued to wander, plying her trade and then leaving when her activities or the fact that she was an elf with mage eyes drew too much suspicion. Somewhat down on her luck and running out of ideas, she found herself in the small hamlet of Alonso, trying to plan her next move.
Coinpurse
Dagger
Lockpicks
An old necklace of her mother’s
Anything that doesn’t fit in the other sections? Throw it here!
Nothing to add at the moment, but perhaps later.
Almari Lorenn
“When my mother sang, all eyes would be on her. When I sing, most often it is to keep eyes off of me.”
20 | Elf | Mage-Eyes
P E R S O N A L I T Y
❖ Observant
❖ Inquisitive
❖ Calm
❖ Headstrong
❖ Somewhat greedy
❖ A bit sarcastic
❖ Quick-witted
❖ Inquisitive
❖ Calm
❖ Headstrong
❖ Somewhat greedy
❖ A bit sarcastic
❖ Quick-witted
Almari has always been very inquisitive, eager to gain new knowledge and skills, always wanting to learn new information. Her curiosity often gets the best of her however, and leads her down paths that are probably unwise. She is very focused, and when she wants something she is not easily swayed until she has it. She can be somewhat greedy and self-centered. She has a fine eye for expensive items and luxuries, but she doesn’t often let herself indulge in such things outwardly, as she doesn’t like to draw attention to herself. Almari is usually quite calm in her manner, and rarely loses her temper fully. She tends to be more neutral, though all the same she can be quick to smile or add a smart or sarcastic comment to the conversation.
A P P E A R A N C E
Almari, at 5’6”, is somewhat tall for her kind, but like other elves she too is thin and somewhat gaunt, with smooth, light grey skin, long, pointed ears, and a lean build. Almari has long, pin-straight black hair that falls just above her waist, and somewhat unsettling eyes due to her forays into magic. She has sharp, if elegant features. Almari has a long nose, high cheekbones and sharp brows.
Almari prefers simple, yet well made clothing in dark colors. She often wears a plain tunic under a fitted jerkin of worn leather, and close fitting breeches tucked into tall leather boots. Like many travelers in the Tempesta, she wears a long, black cloak with a hood she usually keeps up to keep people from getting too good a look at her eyes. The only bits of adornment she wears are the multiple silver rings and gem studs in her long ears, and a raw amethyst crystal hanging from a thick bronze chain, usually tucked beneath her tunic.
H I S T O R Y
Almari grew up in the large city of Evenwell, an underground city within the Elven Gestalt. Almari’s family was somewhat poor, struggling but still managing to get by. Her father was a miner, a common profession for Elven men in the area. Her mother however was a tad more unusual, being a relatively well-known singer in their part of the city. Almari’s early childhood was quite happy, as she spent much of her time helping her mother around the house and looking after her younger sister. Her mother was focused on giving Almari as much education as possible, though they had few books to study from. She also taught Almari the songs she knew, and later taught her a couple of spells she could weave into such songs. They were simple, small spells at first. Almari, ever curious, was fascinated by the magic, though her mother warned her to use it sparingly, lest it warp her eyes. Still, Almari continued to practice it here and there when no one was watching.
When she turned thirteen, her parents arranged an apprenticeship for her with a local fine jeweler, hoping that she would learn a respectable trade and increase her standing later in life. Almari found the work interesting, and loved being able to see the fine jewels and delicate gold and silver wire, and all the beautiful things that could be crafted out of it. For a time, things progressed smoothly, but then her father became ill when Almari was fifteen . At first it appeared to be nothing more than a passing cough, but it refused to go away, and soon worsened instead. Her father began missing days of work, as did her mother when she stayed to take care of him. Food started disappearing from the table, then what few valuable items they had were sold as his state worsened. After the first night they went without supper, Almari pocketed two jewels from the workshop she apprenticed at, quickly selling them to a small shop owner in a distant neighborhood. This act, seemingly small, started her off down a dangerous path. More and more, she would look for things to take, food or a new scarf to grab from a stall as she walked down the street. Her parents questioned where these new things came from, but as her father missed more and more work, they began to stop asking those questions.
Almari began looking for larger jewels and more expensive items, driven by a desire to help her own family as well as a greedy drive of her own. She soon became acquainted with questionable figures to whom she could sell a jewel or two, and made a few deals with these new friends to pick up other skills, such as how to pick a lock or scale a wall. She even found ways in which the musical spells her mother had taught her could be used to move unseen, and sneak into places she really shouldn’t be.
Things escalated for a year, with her father’s condition worsening and Almari becoming bolder and bolder in her little thefts. When she turned sixteen, several things happened in quick succession. Her father was forced to leave his job entirely, and when they discovered what medicine would be needed to treat his illness, it was not cheap. Almari had been too careless in more ways than one, and just as the people at the workshop began looking for culprits behind missing materials, she noticed her eyes beginning to change as well. The master jeweler accused Almari of the thefts, and when he could not prove it, he fired her. He had already been talking to the city guards, and Almari decided in desperation to break into the home of a wealthy merchant in the city. She almost escaped with both his wife’s fine jewels and her safety, but a misstep alerted the household and nearby guards to her presence, and she barely managed to make it away in time. Almari managed to fence the goods that night and get the money to her family, but the guards were out looking for her by then. She confessed what had happened to her family, and despite her parents’ feelings of guilt for what they saw as their fault, and their protests, she was forced to bid them a quick and tearful farewell before fleeing the city.
After that she flitted from city to city in Gestalt, trying to get messages to her family when she could, and even visiting them on occasion. Over time, her continued use of magic to aid in her thieving warped her eyes fully, causing suspicious glances wherever she went. She continued to go after more and more conspicuous items, regardless of the increased risks. While at first she told herself she did what she did to help her family, her own selfish interests and desire to go after more and more did not help her. She liked the bits of luxury and the thrill of taking risks and trying to increase her skills at lifting a purse or climbing through a window unseen. When it seemed like trouble was about to catch up with her, she decided to leave Gestalt altogether, ensuring that her actions wouldn’t get back to negatively impacting her family and that she would stay out of prison.
Since then she has rarely stayed in one place long. Almari was not completely unused to humans, but she was not yet comfortable living among them, especially above ground. She continued to wander, plying her trade and then leaving when her activities or the fact that she was an elf with mage eyes drew too much suspicion. Somewhat down on her luck and running out of ideas, she found herself in the small hamlet of Alonso, trying to plan her next move.
I N V E N T O R Y
Coinpurse
Dagger
Lockpicks
An old necklace of her mother’s
O T H E R
Anything that doesn’t fit in the other sections? Throw it here!
Nothing to add at the moment, but perhaps later.
KremeSupreme im here
Member
Seen
3 mos ago
@Oddsbod Here's Forbhin, updated with the issues you pointed out
Forbhin has a triangular face with a pointed chin. He has a well-groomed gray flattop connected to his shorthaired chinstrap beard. Over his left eye is an eyepatch, from when he lost it in battle years ago. He stands at 6"2' and weighs 160 lbs, with a lanky build with some muscle.
He wears a suit of black splint armor, with grey chainmail protecting his elbows and knees. Over his armor, he wears an orange tabard with The Cockatrice on it. He also has a short white cape that reaches the middle of his back. He wears black leather gloves, rather than actual gauntlets. Though he claims he bought it himself, it's just a lie. He stole it from his master when he died.
Forbhin's history begins as a peasant child in the town of Wetleaf. When he was seven years old,his parents became horribly ill with a dangerous infection, forcing him to work day and night to pay for their medicine. Yet the medicine could not cure the disease, only put it off from worsening. It was infectious, meaning that he was not allowed to see them. When he was a young man, he finally had enough; He was breaking his back just to put off his parents inevitable death, and between them and a Drunkard Uncle, he hardly earned the gold he deserved. He hardly even saw his parents anymore, and he was finally tired.
He told his best friend whose parents had died years ago, and he worked in the same conditions Forbhin did, to keep their graves well maintained. His friend tried to convince Forbhin to stay multiple times on the evening of his departure, to which Forbhin stated that working to keep his parents alive for no gain was just as stupid as his friend keeping his parents graves clean. His friend lashed at Forbhin in a fit of rage, starting a fight which Forbhin won, but continuously beat his friend, even after the point of surrender and pleading. Though he hadn't killed his friend, one more strike would have. Forbhin left that night, and never saw him again.
After leaving Wetleaf, Forbhin eventually came across a knight's garrison. Lying, he managed to convince them that he was sent by some noble family from far off. Convinced, he was taken under the training of his master. After months of training, the two joined the Army of Heroes, and later defected to the People's Legion once the civil war broke out. The two were caught into a situation during a battle between the two forces where the Army of Heroes were being defeated by the People's Legion. Valuing his own survival above all else, Forbhin looted the insignia of a fallen Army soldier, and pretended that he was under their flag, and pretended his master was trying to kill him. He watched uncaringly as his master was cut down by six soldiers much stronger than him. Forbhin remained in the Army of Heroes for many years, when an absence of gold had him leave and travel as a Sellsword.
Now, fate, or in his case a lack of gold, beckons him to the Great Southern Road's hamlet.
-Black Splint Armor
-A Brown Horse
-Rapier
-Three Days Rations
-Army of Heroes Insignia
-Tabard of the Cockatrice
-Eyepatch
-Black Gloves
Forbhin Scarl
My steel is yours. Unless there's a strong possibility of death. What? Loyalty can't bring me back from the next world!
54 | Human | No Mage-Eyes
P E R S O N A L I T Y
❖ Selfish
❖ Bitter
❖ Temperamental
❖ Liar
❖ Greedy
❖ Bitter
❖ Temperamental
❖ Liar
❖ Greedy
A P P E A R A N C E
Forbhin has a triangular face with a pointed chin. He has a well-groomed gray flattop connected to his shorthaired chinstrap beard. Over his left eye is an eyepatch, from when he lost it in battle years ago. He stands at 6"2' and weighs 160 lbs, with a lanky build with some muscle.
He wears a suit of black splint armor, with grey chainmail protecting his elbows and knees. Over his armor, he wears an orange tabard with The Cockatrice on it. He also has a short white cape that reaches the middle of his back. He wears black leather gloves, rather than actual gauntlets. Though he claims he bought it himself, it's just a lie. He stole it from his master when he died.
H I S T O R Y
Forbhin's history begins as a peasant child in the town of Wetleaf. When he was seven years old,his parents became horribly ill with a dangerous infection, forcing him to work day and night to pay for their medicine. Yet the medicine could not cure the disease, only put it off from worsening. It was infectious, meaning that he was not allowed to see them. When he was a young man, he finally had enough; He was breaking his back just to put off his parents inevitable death, and between them and a Drunkard Uncle, he hardly earned the gold he deserved. He hardly even saw his parents anymore, and he was finally tired.
He told his best friend whose parents had died years ago, and he worked in the same conditions Forbhin did, to keep their graves well maintained. His friend tried to convince Forbhin to stay multiple times on the evening of his departure, to which Forbhin stated that working to keep his parents alive for no gain was just as stupid as his friend keeping his parents graves clean. His friend lashed at Forbhin in a fit of rage, starting a fight which Forbhin won, but continuously beat his friend, even after the point of surrender and pleading. Though he hadn't killed his friend, one more strike would have. Forbhin left that night, and never saw him again.
After leaving Wetleaf, Forbhin eventually came across a knight's garrison. Lying, he managed to convince them that he was sent by some noble family from far off. Convinced, he was taken under the training of his master. After months of training, the two joined the Army of Heroes, and later defected to the People's Legion once the civil war broke out. The two were caught into a situation during a battle between the two forces where the Army of Heroes were being defeated by the People's Legion. Valuing his own survival above all else, Forbhin looted the insignia of a fallen Army soldier, and pretended that he was under their flag, and pretended his master was trying to kill him. He watched uncaringly as his master was cut down by six soldiers much stronger than him. Forbhin remained in the Army of Heroes for many years, when an absence of gold had him leave and travel as a Sellsword.
Now, fate, or in his case a lack of gold, beckons him to the Great Southern Road's hamlet.
I N V E N T O R Y
-Black Splint Armor
-A Brown Horse
-Rapier
-Three Days Rations
-Army of Heroes Insignia
-Tabard of the Cockatrice
-Eyepatch
-Black Gloves
O T H E R
Life in Stasis pretentious jerk
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Ha, a quartet of throwing daggers on a bard. That's clever.
I really like the character ideas for this RP. They're really quite diverse. I'm really looking forward to how they interact.
Edit: Really!
I really like the character ideas for this RP. They're really quite diverse. I'm really looking forward to how they interact.
Edit: Really!
I am a little sad undead characters can't be played though. That would've filled my dark souls loving heart to the brim.
Life in Stasis pretentious jerk
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
As long as Braum/Odran is roughly corpse shaped, I'd say that's an achievable dream.
Oh, on this: Was there really a year that was 0AW? It didn't start at year 1AW?
<Snipped quote by pugbutter>
Sure thing, here's the timeline from my notes (working on a response to your PM now, btw). The calendar is otherwise a normal Earth calendar, Januray through December:The Nameless Years
The First Holy War occurs.
Goblins arrive from across the Evening Sands.
Nephilim make first contact with humans.
The dragon Fiernas Fin-Harvey raises south Sinderband from out of the earth and enchants the land with unnatural heat.
0 SR: The First Sleep 0 FS to 921 FS (The first efernight, known as the brujanoche, occurred from 0 to 6 FS, while the second occurred from 915 to 421 FS)
413 FS: The Fall
921 SR: The Years of the Boats 0 YB to 264 YB
0 YB: The port town of Skyra is founded on what will one day become Castle Inger Biot.
1185 SR: The Age of Fables 0 AF to 820 AF
540 AF to 587 AF: The Second Holy War
2005 SR: The Age of the Queens 0 AP to 204 AP (Ended with the death of Cleopatra, greatest and second eldest of the Nine Sisters)
52 AP: Julieta is killed by Desdemona
93 AP: Ophelia commits suicide.
110 AP: Inger conquers the Dolwarden and most of north Primaveira
2209 SR: The Age of Silence 0 AS to 327
20 AS to 23 AS: The third efernight. During this period, Quishan loses control of Primaveira.
2536 SR: The Age of Iron – 0 AI to 220 AI
120 AI: Castle Viola is retrofitted with the world’s first electric tram system.
2756 SR: The Magicuenta – 0 MA to 200 MA (Ended with the fall of King Medraut and the destruction of the Great Tower of Titania)
143 MA: Andrea Rubicundior flees to Andrea’s Fault, and the Fault is cursed by Medraut.
2956 SR: The Age of the Vanities – 0 AV to 329 AV
0 AV: The city-states of Vence unify.
258: The Vence regency is established, ending Vencish democracy.
290-329: Vence cuts off trade ties with other nations, and ultimately dissolves.
3285 SR: The Hunter’s Moon – 0 HM to 100 HM (Only Lasted One Hundred Years)
0 HM to 8 HM: The fourth efernight. The Wild Hunt begins.
3385 SR: The Age of the Widow 0 AW to 372 AW (Ongoing)
3757 SR (372 AW): Present day. 3757 is counting off based on the Sleeper’s Reckoning (SR), year 0 of the First Sleep.
Oh, on this: Was there really a year that was 0AW? It didn't start at year 1AW?
BingTheWing menace to society
Member
Seen
11 mos ago
I literally cannot think of a single coherent character; I'm on the fence about this RP.
Life in Stasis pretentious jerk
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
No goblins yet, but quite a few mage-related character sheets submitted. Goblins hate magic. It's a recipe for character conflict, or at least some very pronounced mistrust for half the cast.
Could be a goblin stuck in Alonso, on his way to or back from somewhere in the Tempesta trying to stake out a mercantile or diplomatic opportunity.
Could be a goblin stuck in Alonso, on his way to or back from somewhere in the Tempesta trying to stake out a mercantile or diplomatic opportunity.
*thumb twiddling intensifies*
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