Certain spells can be used to shroud life signs, making wizards valuable assets for adventuring parties.

Torielle the Unbeliever [+]

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Torielle

Image [+]

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Character Summary

Name: Torielle Logan
Aliases: Tori (nickname), Torielle Williams (maiden name)

Gender: female
Age: 25

Race/Ethnicty: unknown (likely mixed) African descent
Place of Origin: Alcatraz Priestdom (former San Fransisco)

Occupation: Wanderer, former soldier

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Character Attributes

Height: 5’8
Weight: ~135 lbs

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Torielle has a faded, almost imperceptible scar on her forehead: while the scar’s shape is vague, it almost appears to resemble a burning key.
Day To Day Attire: Torielle generally wears whatever she finds most comfortable; her current clothing are mostly muted colours, and are travel-worn but not quite threadbare; she also wears hardened leather armour that covers her torso and upper arms.

Strengths:

• Weapons Proficiency: Torielle’s training as a Faith Keeper Soldier has prepared her to fight effectively with a number of different kinds of martial weapons; she prefers using a longbow, however will gladly take up a sword and shield if the situation demands it.
• Tactical Thinking: Torielle is able to think quickly in stressful situations, and can be trusted to make tactical decisions at a moment’s notice.
• Bravery: Torielle is not easily frightened, and is much more likely to fight to the death than to surrender or retreat.
• Survival Skills: During her travels, Torielle learned how to take care of herself outside of the stable comforts of city living.

Weaknesses:

• Self-Doubt: After losing her husband, as well as the religious fire that burned within her for so long, Torielle struggles with uncertainty, both in her personal beliefs and in her abilities.
• Bigotry Toward the Faithful: Torielle goes to great lengths to avoid interacting with the Father’s faithful; when forced to do so, she is verbally abusive and rude, often threatening violence if the interaction lasts long enough.
• Superstitious: Despite her clear hatred for the Father’s faithful, she still occasionally acts on the cultural and religious superstitions with which she was raised. Old habits die hard, after all.
• Attached: Torielle has an extreme fear of losing her locket, and is overprotective to the point of getting upset when people so much as look at it.

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Possessions

Items Of Note:

• Hardened leather armour with a vine-like pattern carved lightly into it.
• Longbow & a quiverfull of arrows. While it is possible for her to strap the bow over the shield on her back, she generally prefers to carry it.
• Longsword strapped to her belt.
• Shield strapped to her back.
• A backpack containing a bedroll, a canteen, several days’ rations, a tinderbox and a compass.
• A locket containing a miniature of her wedding portrait, a gift from her late husband. She hasn’t opened it since his death.

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History

Born on the coast and growing up with the island of Alcatraz within view on the horizon, Torielle was once a zealous follower of the Father. Her mother was a missionary, regaling her with stories of her travels but fearing the job was too dangerous for her daughter to come along - a fear that proved valid when she failed to return from a trip to the Triumvirate. Her father was a Faith Keeper Soldier. When she was old enough, Torielle gladly accepted the mark of faith, and entered training to follow in her father’s footsteps.

It was in training where she met the love of her life - not a soldier himself, but an administrator working closely with her unit. They married not long after, and lived happily together for three years. Torielle felt nothing missing, and truly believed she was living her most perfect life.

Things changed when her husband was falsely accused of committing a series of murders. The circumstances surrounding his arrest and ultimate execution led to a major crisis of faith for Torielle, who ran away under the cover of night, ten days after his death. She wandered east into the Kingdom of Dall, unsure of where to go but driven by a desperate need to get away, and eventually made her way to Praetor City. Somewhere along the way, she found a sorcerer willing to erase the tattoo from her forehead, leaving behind a faint scar that hints at her past.

Working this guy out a bit, just figured I'd throw something up sooner rather than later. :)

The Big Scary Bastard [+]

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Blackwall

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Character Summary

Name: Sullivan Blackwall
Aliases: Sully, Blackwall

Gender: Male
Age: 40

Race/Ethnicty: Caucasian (Irish/French-Canadian)
Place of Origin: Delphian Empire (Former New York State)

Occupation: Enforcement, Messenger, Insurance Salesman

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Character Attributes

Height: 6'4"
Weight: 220

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Blackwall has a band of scars around his right arm in an intricate, flowing pattern. He has no other markings or piercings (nothing visible, at any rate).
Day To Day Attire: Blackwall tends to dress in a somewhat grungy fashion, often favoring blacks and leathers in his attire. Chains and studs are a staple of his accessories, and he tends to show off his impressive musculature whenever the temperature permits.

Strengths:

• Resilience: Blackwall is extremely tough and durable - able to withstand extreme physical punishment with little sign of distress.
• Strength: Along with his tenacity comes ferocious strength. When he is enraged, he is known to put fist-sized dents and holes in wood, brick, and even metal surfaces.
• Cursebringer: His past associations with citizens of the Triumvirate has left him with a special knack for bringing low his foes in combat. Dark magic radiates from Blackwall and infests nearby enemies, heightening their feelings of pain and weakening body and spirit alike.

Weaknesses:

• Blunt: A man in Blackwall's position tends to last longer the more straightforward and brutal he is. This being the case, he has little interest (let alone skill) in intrigue or verbal maneuvering. He says what he means, means what he says, and this can easily land him in hot water.
• Unmotivated: Wanting for little, Blackwall doesn't have any real sort of aspirations. He has urges, certainly, but nothing really drives him to better himself. Thus far, he has succeeded and grown stronger and more capable as a result, but any sort of physical failure is likely to be quite the blow to his self-image.
• Addict: Sully has a love for strong drink, coarse women, and a number of illicit substances. Most notable, however, is his love of violence. He will often purposefully escalate conflicts to the point of blows, and he begins to get agitated after going a period of time without a decent scuffle.

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Magic

Spells: Less of a spellcaster and more of a source of magical energy, Blackwall is aware of a couple magical effects that he has been imbued with.

• Pain Feeding: Blackwall thrives on the fear and pain he can put into others. Through the magic he has been imbued with, he can bolster his own life force and strength by absorbing the pained and terrified energies of his victims. When he is done with them, they tend to feel drained of all feeling, but the fear quickly returns in his absence.
• Furious Curse: When he craves violence, and focuses his attention on a single target, Blackwall can inflict a curse on them that amplifies the pain, panic, and terror that they feel under the onslaught of his blows. This sometimes feeds into his Pain Feeding effect, driving him into an even greater frenzy.
• Blood of the Pit: The general magical energy that suffuses Blackwall grants him some additional benefits. He can see clearly in dark or dimly lit environments, he is (seemingly) immune to disease, and when he is in a frenzy, he is untouchable by fire. There are also some who say that he can smell fear, though the validity of this claim is unclear.

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Possessions

Items Of Note:

• "The Irons": A pair of tools/weapons that Blackwall carries at all times. One of them ("Hooligan") is a multipurpose tool with a blade and pick at one end, and a claw at the other. The other ("Headache") is a hefty axe.
• The Devil's Own Stogies: A special blend of smokable plants, these cigars are by far the best (and least offensive) way for Blackwall to come down from a frenzy, make friends, and generally maintain his sunny disposition.
• Rebel Leathers: Resembling the raiment of the legendary Gods of Stone and Metal and Hog Riders of antiquity, this black leather attire is resistant to wear and tear, and provides good resistance against the elements.
• Rations: A few days worth of dried meats and fruits, slightly-stale potatoes, and thick loaves of bread.
• "Peace Offering": A fairly large flask kept in a pouch affixed to his belt, Blackwall takes every opportunity to fill this with whatever strong drink he can manage to find.

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History

Born in the Delphian Empire (in what was once New York State), Blackwall grew up in poverty, surrounded by violence, and filled with indignant anger. For as long as he could remember, he hated his father for siring him - for bringing a child into his cesspool of a lifestyle.

So, as soon as he was able, he began down a path that would certainly lead to his own demise. He regularly beat up children his own age for their food or what paltry sums of money they might've been carrying, and built up a reputation for his cruelty. He killed his first man - his own father - at twelve, just so he wouldn't have to share a roof with the man or provide food for the one he blamed for all of his own misery.

While he began to slowly grow in reputation and esteem among the more violent elements of Delphian society, Blackwall only ever considered his own wellbeing. He took up work for one of the larger criminal organizations - breaking fingers and kneecaps for a bit more money, food, and privilege - but never really considered himself a part of their family.

It was only after his tenth year among the syndicate that Blackwall caught wanderlust. He had tired of conditions in the Empire, and wondered if he might have better luck (and payoff) elsewhere. His departure and subsequent wanderings brought him into the territory of the Salyia Triumvirate, and to the attention of some of the unscrupulous wizards who called that territory home.

In exchange for his willing service to their cause (a concept that Blackwall was used to at that point), he was promised comfort and pleasure, as well as the means to ensure his enduring victories and successes. Such an offer was far too appealing for him to pass up, so Blackwall entered service with a small cabal of Salyian wizards.

Another decade passed, and the cabal he served was absorbed into a larger group - one that saw him as unnecessary to their goals. After swearing himself to the Law of No Tongue, and undergoing a Blood Magic ritual to keep himself from betraying the Triumvirate, Blackwall was released from his service and sent on his way.

Now, having wandered and worked his way south, Blackwall does odd jobs for various enterprising organizations. Up-and-coming criminal organizations value him for his willingness to get his hands dirty, his reputation, and his undeniably effective methods. He has yet to give his allegiance to any of these groups, however. They simply don't scare him the way that the Salyian wizards did, and he would never dream of submitting to anyone who didn't either scare the hell out of him, earn his respect, or promise him an ungodly amount of wealth and pleasure.

Blood red! It's simply BLOOD RED!!!

N. Kramer - Living on borrowed time. [+]

"Pray the lord, my soul to keep."

Name: Nicholas Armetian Jullian Matthius Kramer
Aliases: Nick for short - is it that fucking hard!?

Gender: Male.
Age: Twenty-five

Race/Ethnicty: German-American.
Place of Origin: Salyia Triumvirate

Occupation: Formerly a Jester, currently a mercenary.

Height: Six foot one.
Weight: 195 pounds

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Some scars on his body, please dont touch them...
Day To Day Attire: Various, rags one day to armor. Depends what hand he is dealt, usually, rags lets be honest here guys.

Strengths:

• Silver tongue - talk talk talk talk, do you ever shut up..? Woah that was a good joke maybe you aren't so bad...
• Slippery - years of running helped when it came to losing people
• I play dirty - sand to the eyes, kick to the groin man what a bitch fighter.
• Connections - forming a last bonding is a key skill to have in a broken eats human world

Weaknesses:

• Bridges, burnt! - why do you all have swords
• Magic sucks - i just dont like magic, wizards and witches just aren't what they are cut out to be.
• Paranoid - are you sure i dont know you from somewhere
• Greedy - money first, this rat has to eat
• Pride - trust me when it comes to this, i'm simply the best
• Damned - i always feel like i'm going nowhere
• Unorganized - i never can hold onto something, not even my clothes.

All things important!:

• Worn Jester's hat: A jester's hat, keeping it class san diego.
• Steel dagger: A gift from a dead guy, thanks dead guy.
• Raggedy clothing: Tragedy, lost my clothes to a roadside whore - such is life.
• Bone Necklace: This is made from the people I've killed... Beware me. Truly, the best souvenir I've bought.
• Leather backpack: All things important inside, warning prone to being worn.

Ever leave someone for dead?

That was probably the worst side of me that could show, I didn't want to leave him but also at the same time I wanted to live. Morals are a bitch but no one ever taught me ethics, it just comes to you naturally. That's what my fans say about comedy, magic casters and nobles they pay a lot to laugh. I coulden't imagine being them, bored out of their minds - how sad. I use to put on a show for people, with my friend Zach but after fighting some angry guys they fucked up Zach and I bailed out.

Great friend right, I look up to the stars and think man why was that guy such a loud mouth. I should mention Zach came after me with some angrier people, they always keep me on the move. I should thank him, he taught me how to run for my life which these days seems like a life skill everyone needs. I've been all over the kingdoms, just not the south. I can't seem to find a place to settle down, make enough money or enjoy. I've been told I live on a motor, I'm an adventurer I go where the money goes and I like to live fast - that's not a lot to ask for.

Yet, I'm living my life in fear, woe is me.. The tragic bard. The gods don't favor me, I've never been religious but I'd like to say there is a force above us since Joe, Jill and Jack can shoot fire or turn water to wine. I'm not much of a people person ironically enough. It's just a mask I wear, making people laugh but I do what the people want of me - I'm a pushover, a people pleaser. I relish some of the moments I've spent in comedy, but no more. I'm tired of getting by, I should be applying myself differently - will all these wars and conflicts kicking off I'd rather not sit in the middle cracking jokes. It's fun to make fun of something grim.

Going east I ended up in Praetor City, what a shit hole the women were ok but I've been robbed twice so far. There is the promise of a good job coming up soon, maybe I'll find something suitable and try to act the part and get a position. Something sinister, I always have a sinister feeling about everything maybe I'm depressed but I know if I don't fix up my act then it will be my last.

Hello, my name is Dead man walking - Nick for short, how do you do?

Henri [+]

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Henri Jhones

Beware the old man in a world where men die young

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Character Summary

Name: Henri Jhones
Aliases: The Black Mountain, Hammer Hands, Old Man

Gender: Male
Age: 65

Race/Ethnicty: First Nations (Haida)/Scandinavian & African American
Place of Origin:The Principality of Porlan (A small city-state near the southern border of the Salyia Triumvirate)

Occupation: Mercenary, Bodyguard, Farm Hand, Archer, Bounty/Game Hunter

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Character Attributes

Height: 6’7”
Weight: 290 lbs
Appearance: His skin is as brown as freshly tilled soil, and his eyes are so dark that they are almost black. Once he had a full head of thick black hair that he kept tied in a braid, but now there is so little on his head that he just keeps it shaved. Despite the lack of hair on his head, he still proudly sports a thick iron grey beard.

Scars: The most prominent are, the lash marks across his back (Punishment for starting a brawl without provocation), the burn marks on his left leg (From a fire pot thrown during the assault on a brigand camp) and the cut from the right corner of his mouth to half way across his right cheek (Sneezed while using his camp knife as a fork).
Piercings: He has a single piercing in his left ear, a piece of antler bone from his first successful hunt.
Day To Day Attire:
His base layer is an old tunic, some rough spun pants and a set of well-worn leather boots. All of his clothes show signs of being well used and often repaired.

Strengths:

• Armsman: Given that he’s been a wandering ‘strong man for hire’ for decades now, he’s a pretty deft hand at most weapons
• Patience: Hunting game to feed a town might never make one rich, but it’s a steady income…assuming you’re calm enough to actually track and catch your prey.
• Strong Man: Even as old as he is, with the life he’s led, Henri is still a phenomenally strong man.

Weaknesses:

• Time: He’s not the young man he once was. Things hurt more than they should, more often.
• Heights: After getting tree’d by a pack of feral dogs, and then nearly falling out of said tree, he likes his feet firmly on the ground and well away from anything like a large drop.
• Bees: He gets stung, he’s dead…so far so good though.

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Possessions

Items Of Note:

• Sleeve-less Long Coat: He wears a metal re-enforced coat over his other gear as armour, though it does trade protection for ease of movement and long term wear ability.
• Stout Shield: A simple round shield, made from sturdy wooden planks and forged iron.
• Fir’mans Ax: An Old World axe that Henri found during an expedition into some smaller ruins many years back. He paid handsomely to have a blacksmith clean it up as best he could and then mount it on a new handle.
• War Bow and arrows: A huge war bow that is nearly impossible for anyone but him to draw.
• Travellers Pack: A wooden framed, leather and cloth pack to carry what he need while on the move.

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History

Henri grew up on a small homestead not far from Porlan with his father, a wood cutter and hunter by trade; his mother died of a wasting sickness when he was very young and he has little memory of her. Life wasn’t easy, but it was good, and from the beginning his size and strength made the hard jobs easier. By the time he was 15 he was larger than all the boys his age and quite a few of the men.

Learning his tradecraft at his father’s side, life was good until one week his father failed to come home after going out to check trap lines. After waiting a day or so extra, in case his father had merely been delayed, Henri set out to search the trap line; it took the better part of a week but he did find his father. Nothing nefarious, no attack by brigands or savaged by wild beasts…simply a miss step on a steep hill had caused his father to tumble down the slope, only to be stopped by a large rock that broke his neck.

He carried his father’s body home and buried him in the same small glade where his mother had been buried so many years earlier. Henri tried to keep on working as he had been, on the times that he went into Porlan, those that had known his father expressed their sympathy if his loss, but without his father he felt lost; he wasn’t close to anyone in Porlan or the sparse neighbouring homesteads, there was nothing anchoring him there. Not long after he made up his mind to go out into the wider world, to maybe see if there was somewhere else that would call to him.

He packed what gear, food, money and trade goods he could carry into his pack, gave whatever was left that had use or value to those he knew and then left. He has been travelling even since, and now finds himself, not for the first time, in Praetor City. The older he gets the more he tends to stay where the weather is warmer.

@Superboy Very interested, would you have room for a "full power" (who will also likely make and use scrolls) arcane support/buff archetype?