WIP
Cool, cool, cool. I'll get started on it now.
Glad to meet a fellow admirer.
Also I love plotting.
Glad to meet a fellow admirer.
Also I love plotting.
Bout midway through my sheet, so damn excited 
Started re-downloading The Witcher 2 as well!
Started re-downloading The Witcher 2 as well!
Name: Sir Brenn van Kallsoff
Allegiance: Nilfgaard
Occupations: Captain of the Vesten Brigade
Race: Human
Class: Knight (Armored Warrior)
Age: 28
Appearance: "I can't describe it, he is just so adorable and cute. His green eyes are like emeralds, and they make me shiver with delight. Oh, and he is so strong, I love him." - Lara, speaking of her husband Brenn van Kallsoff
To put it simply, Brenn is a bear of a man. His large frame is built in such a way that if you were to run directly into him you'd fall flat on you back, and later when recalling the event you would certainly use the word "stonewall" somewhere in your description. His shoulders stand broad, and his arms are long and thick, which make his hugs an easy way to ascend a few feet off the ground. He is tall and his legs are long and thick, surely if he were so inclined, he could have become a wrestler. His hands are thick and strong and his nose is red, round and protrudes ever so slightly off his face.
His face is round, his cheeks are rosy and thick. His neck rises from his body ever so slightly and is thick and corded. His hair is always trimmed and styled, and usually a hand runs immediately through his hair as soon as his helmet is lifted off. His emerald eyes and blonde hair a product of his parents genetic mix, and he is as some women have said, quite handsome. His beard is brushed and trimmed neatly, and in the lighter moments of his life, a broad white smile sneaks through its bristles.
Personality: Honest, Patriotic, Brave, a Family man. Sir Brenn van Kallsoff is described as nothing less, or more, than a true soldier by his superiors. He has the admiration of his family, and they truly love and respect him as a dutiful husband and father. Yet, despite the qualities that make him seem so plain, and so predictable, there lies one quality that makes him intriguing to those who find themselves faced with him as a foe. Brenn does not, and has never known remorse. He has been called upon to end the lives of countless people, whose innocence is nothing less than questionable, and yet he has never questioned.
It is a rare occurrence that a man with such cold nature is able to divorce himself from the harsh military realities of duty and nationalism, and still be able to wrestle with his children in front of a roaring fireplace, bright smiles on their faces. There is good reason then, that Brenn does not seek out friends, he does not build relationships beyond that of his own family. With respects to his interactions with his soldiers and superiors, he speaks with firm and respectful tone, and does not waver in stance. However, in one instance he did reward his troopers for excellent service with many flagons of beer, and a troupe of prostitutes.
His personality is split between the composed and straight-faced Captain and the gleeful and caring father. He knows duty and he knows love. The true essence of a man.
Armaments: Crafted Nilfgaardian Captain's armor, a steel longsword, small surgeon's dagger, and in times where it is called for, a leather-bound oak wood, steel riveted, kite shield.
Bio: Brenn was born into a family of excellent social posture and monetary wealth. It was assumed from his childhood that he would, as the second child, serve his country. His brother of course got the preferential treatment as a child and being first born was expected to inherit the most from his parents and become a politician like his father. Brenn's childhood also included a number of rules and trivial customs; for instance both his brother and he were expected to be promptly dressed and ready for inspection by their father at 0700 every morning. His father often imparted cold harsh wisdoms upon them, even as children they were told, "A hero is just a fool who hasn't died yet." Despite this disciplined life of routine, it was sometimes interrupted by Brenn's mother, whose loving hugs are still remembered fondly by Brenn to this day. It still a subject of confusion as to what exactly brought Brenn's father and mother together, but their marriage seemed to work.
So, when Brenn was finally the ripe age of 14 he did go on to study under Sir Edyr Vansk, and began the struggle to attain knighthood. He learned the arts of combat, strategy, and of course politics. And he did all this without complaint. He was studious, he learned his lessons, and he studied voraciously, but he didn't really "get out" much. He was, as it seemed, nothing of note, and nothing to scoff at. At some point he met his wife, a lady who like himself, was born into the upper tier of Nilfgaardian society, a woman of average intelligence, yet a somewhat substantial beauty, her name is Lara. When he had finally proved himself to be worthy and ready of taking up arms for the Empire, he was knighted in ceremony and given his first commission in the Vesten Brigade, an infantry unit.
Most of his life thus far has dealt with routine. Day-in, day-out, patrols, searching for rabble-rousers, more patrols, and obviously, guarding against the lesser beings of the world. He made three children with his wife, a son and two daughter; he loves his family very much. Often he would take long walks with his children and wrestle with them around the house. Yet as word of an impending invasion of the Northern Kingdoms reached him, his happy domestic life was interrupted. Brenn soon prepared his men for war, and the brigade was given its marching orders. The march was slow, but the weather was good and spirits were high, so when finally meeting up with the main Nilfgaardian force both Brenn and his men found that moral was in good standing. Brenn was optimistic that the war would be a good quick one.
Others: Distrust and dislike of non-humans, thinks of them as "lesser beings"
Allegiance: Nilfgaard
Occupations: Captain of the Vesten Brigade
Race: Human
Class: Knight (Armored Warrior)
Age: 28
Appearance: "I can't describe it, he is just so adorable and cute. His green eyes are like emeralds, and they make me shiver with delight. Oh, and he is so strong, I love him." - Lara, speaking of her husband Brenn van Kallsoff
To put it simply, Brenn is a bear of a man. His large frame is built in such a way that if you were to run directly into him you'd fall flat on you back, and later when recalling the event you would certainly use the word "stonewall" somewhere in your description. His shoulders stand broad, and his arms are long and thick, which make his hugs an easy way to ascend a few feet off the ground. He is tall and his legs are long and thick, surely if he were so inclined, he could have become a wrestler. His hands are thick and strong and his nose is red, round and protrudes ever so slightly off his face.
His face is round, his cheeks are rosy and thick. His neck rises from his body ever so slightly and is thick and corded. His hair is always trimmed and styled, and usually a hand runs immediately through his hair as soon as his helmet is lifted off. His emerald eyes and blonde hair a product of his parents genetic mix, and he is as some women have said, quite handsome. His beard is brushed and trimmed neatly, and in the lighter moments of his life, a broad white smile sneaks through its bristles.
Personality: Honest, Patriotic, Brave, a Family man. Sir Brenn van Kallsoff is described as nothing less, or more, than a true soldier by his superiors. He has the admiration of his family, and they truly love and respect him as a dutiful husband and father. Yet, despite the qualities that make him seem so plain, and so predictable, there lies one quality that makes him intriguing to those who find themselves faced with him as a foe. Brenn does not, and has never known remorse. He has been called upon to end the lives of countless people, whose innocence is nothing less than questionable, and yet he has never questioned.
It is a rare occurrence that a man with such cold nature is able to divorce himself from the harsh military realities of duty and nationalism, and still be able to wrestle with his children in front of a roaring fireplace, bright smiles on their faces. There is good reason then, that Brenn does not seek out friends, he does not build relationships beyond that of his own family. With respects to his interactions with his soldiers and superiors, he speaks with firm and respectful tone, and does not waver in stance. However, in one instance he did reward his troopers for excellent service with many flagons of beer, and a troupe of prostitutes.
His personality is split between the composed and straight-faced Captain and the gleeful and caring father. He knows duty and he knows love. The true essence of a man.
Armaments: Crafted Nilfgaardian Captain's armor, a steel longsword, small surgeon's dagger, and in times where it is called for, a leather-bound oak wood, steel riveted, kite shield.
Bio: Brenn was born into a family of excellent social posture and monetary wealth. It was assumed from his childhood that he would, as the second child, serve his country. His brother of course got the preferential treatment as a child and being first born was expected to inherit the most from his parents and become a politician like his father. Brenn's childhood also included a number of rules and trivial customs; for instance both his brother and he were expected to be promptly dressed and ready for inspection by their father at 0700 every morning. His father often imparted cold harsh wisdoms upon them, even as children they were told, "A hero is just a fool who hasn't died yet." Despite this disciplined life of routine, it was sometimes interrupted by Brenn's mother, whose loving hugs are still remembered fondly by Brenn to this day. It still a subject of confusion as to what exactly brought Brenn's father and mother together, but their marriage seemed to work.
So, when Brenn was finally the ripe age of 14 he did go on to study under Sir Edyr Vansk, and began the struggle to attain knighthood. He learned the arts of combat, strategy, and of course politics. And he did all this without complaint. He was studious, he learned his lessons, and he studied voraciously, but he didn't really "get out" much. He was, as it seemed, nothing of note, and nothing to scoff at. At some point he met his wife, a lady who like himself, was born into the upper tier of Nilfgaardian society, a woman of average intelligence, yet a somewhat substantial beauty, her name is Lara. When he had finally proved himself to be worthy and ready of taking up arms for the Empire, he was knighted in ceremony and given his first commission in the Vesten Brigade, an infantry unit.
Most of his life thus far has dealt with routine. Day-in, day-out, patrols, searching for rabble-rousers, more patrols, and obviously, guarding against the lesser beings of the world. He made three children with his wife, a son and two daughter; he loves his family very much. Often he would take long walks with his children and wrestle with them around the house. Yet as word of an impending invasion of the Northern Kingdoms reached him, his happy domestic life was interrupted. Brenn soon prepared his men for war, and the brigade was given its marching orders. The march was slow, but the weather was good and spirits were high, so when finally meeting up with the main Nilfgaardian force both Brenn and his men found that moral was in good standing. Brenn was optimistic that the war would be a good quick one.
Others: Distrust and dislike of non-humans, thinks of them as "lesser beings"
Name:
Amir of Lyria [disregarded his last name]
Dhuvael [Jackdaw]
Race:
Human
Class:
Witcher
Age:
32
Appearance:
Messy locks of dark brown hair cascade down Amir’s usually scowling face, with a layer of stubble along his pronounced jaw line. His eyes, orange in colour and slit like that of a cat marks him readily as a Witcher. His face is lightly scarred, one of them being found protruding downwards from his lower lip and another longer, but faint scar positioned vertically from his lower left eye and finishing just below his left cheekbone. Amir is ruggedly handsome to those who have a taste for hardened men, and threatening to those who are of a more timorous nature. His body is sinewy and lithe, but layered with a criss-cross of mismatched scars, burn marks and other such blemishes which are a trademark of any good Witcher worth their salt.
Amir owns a ragged black travel cloak secured at his chest with a breastpin in the shape of a Crow. The cloak conceals his weapons and his sectioned plate from view. His clothing is in tatters, with his armour secured tightly in place with numerous obtuse buckles and straps. His visage is remarked similarly to that of a Crow, which is ironically the School from which he was trained in the arts of killing and monster slaying. The Crow Medallion is worn around his neck and beneath his clothing and is his only keepsake from the school of the Crow which was recently destroyed. Strapped to his back can be found the two swords in which a Witcher always carries, one steel, one silver. The steel sword is tinged with a colour of blue from the meteorite which had been used in the reforging process of the blade, whilst the silver shares a red hue from the attributes of red meteorite which had reforged the blade. When withdrawing a sword, Amir will usually push his cloak to the right and over his shoulder, as he is comfortably left handed.
Personality:
Amir is cold, calculating, and ruthless in his efficiency as a monster hunter, and appears to lack the empathy of most human beings. He takes little pleasure but for only four things in his life – Payment, Drinking, Killing, and Fucking. However, Amir is not all that awful. He speaks with the eloquence required from a Witcher, can share camaraderie with those he can but rarely entrust his life, and is a protector of the weak from both creature and human, for he is a slayer of monsters.
Amir likes to be prepared; he’ll carry an assortment of potions which he brews himself, collecting interesting herbs and sharpening his swords when he is found idle. His accent is rough and throaty like the craggy peaks of the Blue Mountains from whence he hailed, and his face rarely expresses itself into any sort of pleasant emotion. He gets the job done; niceties are just a trivial pursuit for the highborn and the coy. For why should he smile when he may very well have a knife behind his back?
Weapons:
- A Blue Meteorite Steel Sword.
- A Red Meteorite Silver Sword.
- Weighted throwing daggers, both steel and silver.
Biography:
Amir hailed from the Northern Kingdoms – a group of Human states positioned north of the Amell Mountains. He was born in the bustling city of Lyria situated north of the River Yaruga, and along the western approach of the Blue Mountains. However a twist of fate seemed not to want him spending a pleasant childhood within the safety of the city walls. His mother died giving birth to him, and his Father - the drunkard that he was - couldn’t keep him nor wanted him, scorning the child for the “murder” of his mother. Orphaned, Amir found himself in a home for boys without families until the age of 8, when a Witcher adopted him, later recruiting Amir into the school of the Crow located in Pont Vanis to the far north-west.
His training was standard of that of a Witcher – tough, cruel, and life changing. After the trial of the grasses Amir’s Witcherhood was granted and he began training his body and mind in the art of monster slaying and the basic spells available to Witchers, as well as potion brewing. Most of Amir’s history after he graduated from his training within the School of the Crow is enshrouded in secrecy and hushed tones. Whether it is because he’d rather not bring back loathful memories or if he’s just a tight-lipped bugger is up for speculation. However, if one is able enough to hear the faint whisperings of the Nordlings of Redania and Temaria, they would hear renowned stories of a dishevelled Witcher draped in Black and Steel, Dhuvael.
I wanna explore Amir's adventures in the past through a series of folktales, banter with companions, flashbacks and other mediums of storytelling because I don't want to give everything away at once, and I think it'd be really fun to do because it'd be like the short stories in the Witcher Series. Like Amir's past wouldn't be told in any particular order, and events could have been embellished, complete lies through word of mouth and whatever. But in his travels Amir will have the chance to set things right, telling people which stories are full of shit, which ones are true, and if events of some stories were embellished, and what actually happened.
Amir of Lyria [disregarded his last name]
Dhuvael [Jackdaw]
Race:
Human
Class:
Witcher
Age:
32
Appearance:
Messy locks of dark brown hair cascade down Amir’s usually scowling face, with a layer of stubble along his pronounced jaw line. His eyes, orange in colour and slit like that of a cat marks him readily as a Witcher. His face is lightly scarred, one of them being found protruding downwards from his lower lip and another longer, but faint scar positioned vertically from his lower left eye and finishing just below his left cheekbone. Amir is ruggedly handsome to those who have a taste for hardened men, and threatening to those who are of a more timorous nature. His body is sinewy and lithe, but layered with a criss-cross of mismatched scars, burn marks and other such blemishes which are a trademark of any good Witcher worth their salt.
Amir owns a ragged black travel cloak secured at his chest with a breastpin in the shape of a Crow. The cloak conceals his weapons and his sectioned plate from view. His clothing is in tatters, with his armour secured tightly in place with numerous obtuse buckles and straps. His visage is remarked similarly to that of a Crow, which is ironically the School from which he was trained in the arts of killing and monster slaying. The Crow Medallion is worn around his neck and beneath his clothing and is his only keepsake from the school of the Crow which was recently destroyed. Strapped to his back can be found the two swords in which a Witcher always carries, one steel, one silver. The steel sword is tinged with a colour of blue from the meteorite which had been used in the reforging process of the blade, whilst the silver shares a red hue from the attributes of red meteorite which had reforged the blade. When withdrawing a sword, Amir will usually push his cloak to the right and over his shoulder, as he is comfortably left handed.
Personality:
Amir is cold, calculating, and ruthless in his efficiency as a monster hunter, and appears to lack the empathy of most human beings. He takes little pleasure but for only four things in his life – Payment, Drinking, Killing, and Fucking. However, Amir is not all that awful. He speaks with the eloquence required from a Witcher, can share camaraderie with those he can but rarely entrust his life, and is a protector of the weak from both creature and human, for he is a slayer of monsters.
Amir likes to be prepared; he’ll carry an assortment of potions which he brews himself, collecting interesting herbs and sharpening his swords when he is found idle. His accent is rough and throaty like the craggy peaks of the Blue Mountains from whence he hailed, and his face rarely expresses itself into any sort of pleasant emotion. He gets the job done; niceties are just a trivial pursuit for the highborn and the coy. For why should he smile when he may very well have a knife behind his back?
Weapons:
- A Blue Meteorite Steel Sword.
- A Red Meteorite Silver Sword.
- Weighted throwing daggers, both steel and silver.
Biography:
Amir hailed from the Northern Kingdoms – a group of Human states positioned north of the Amell Mountains. He was born in the bustling city of Lyria situated north of the River Yaruga, and along the western approach of the Blue Mountains. However a twist of fate seemed not to want him spending a pleasant childhood within the safety of the city walls. His mother died giving birth to him, and his Father - the drunkard that he was - couldn’t keep him nor wanted him, scorning the child for the “murder” of his mother. Orphaned, Amir found himself in a home for boys without families until the age of 8, when a Witcher adopted him, later recruiting Amir into the school of the Crow located in Pont Vanis to the far north-west.
His training was standard of that of a Witcher – tough, cruel, and life changing. After the trial of the grasses Amir’s Witcherhood was granted and he began training his body and mind in the art of monster slaying and the basic spells available to Witchers, as well as potion brewing. Most of Amir’s history after he graduated from his training within the School of the Crow is enshrouded in secrecy and hushed tones. Whether it is because he’d rather not bring back loathful memories or if he’s just a tight-lipped bugger is up for speculation. However, if one is able enough to hear the faint whisperings of the Nordlings of Redania and Temaria, they would hear renowned stories of a dishevelled Witcher draped in Black and Steel, Dhuvael.
I wanna explore Amir's adventures in the past through a series of folktales, banter with companions, flashbacks and other mediums of storytelling because I don't want to give everything away at once, and I think it'd be really fun to do because it'd be like the short stories in the Witcher Series. Like Amir's past wouldn't be told in any particular order, and events could have been embellished, complete lies through word of mouth and whatever. But in his travels Amir will have the chance to set things right, telling people which stories are full of shit, which ones are true, and if events of some stories were embellished, and what actually happened.
Wow - those are lovely CSs. I shall start on mine soon. Quite inspiring. :)
Well thank you miss.
I'm very eager to start, can't wait to see everyone else's character sheets 
I dunno. I love the setting of the Witcher (even though I've only played very little of the first game), and would love to do an RP in it. But I'm not sure if I can keep up with advanced standards at this time.
I'll try it. Leave me a Witcher spot if any are open. If none are open, I'll just go with a Witch.
I'll try it. Leave me a Witcher spot if any are open. If none are open, I'll just go with a Witch.
I dunno. I love the setting of the Witcher (even though I've only played very little of the first game), and would love to do an RP in it. But I'm not sure if I can keep up with advanced standards at this time.
I'll try it. Leave me a Witcher spot if any are open. If none are open, I'll just go with a Witch.
EDIT: Stupid internet. Forgive the double post.
I'll try it. Leave me a Witcher spot if any are open. If none are open, I'll just go with a Witch.
EDIT: Stupid internet. Forgive the double post.
I'm seriously willing to bake cookies, sell kids and offer sex to get someone to write this CS. I absolutely abhor writing these things. Moon and I are trying to coordinate and both looking for ANYTHING else to do but write this. SO painful to me. :P
Cheer me on Ful! Cheer me... oh, like my pink boner Avi that Mahz thought would be funny to give? *laughs*
Cheer me on Ful! Cheer me... oh, like my pink boner Avi that Mahz thought would be funny to give? *laughs*
Katelyn said
I'm seriously willing to bake cookies, sell kids and offer sex to get someone to write this CS. I absolutely abhor writing these things. Moon and I are trying to coordinate and both looking for ANYTHING else to do but write this. SO painful to me. :PCheer me on Ful! Cheer me... oh, like my pink boner Avi that Mahz thought would be funny to give? *laughs*
I'll have the first and third option...then we can see what i can do
I know what you mean though..I hate writing character sheets, I prefer to develop my character during the story, that's why I kept my character's history pretty basic even though I have it all figured out.
Sex and cookies, almost as good as Marcy Playgrounds, "Sex and Candy". Classic.
I'm going to save it for tomorrow morning when my brain arises. I'm actually playing two characters in here.
A witch Moon and Saskia. 2 CSs - Yay!
*hangs self*
I'm going to save it for tomorrow morning when my brain arises. I'm actually playing two characters in here.
A witch Moon and Saskia. 2 CSs - Yay!
*hangs self*
Katelyn said
Sex and cookies, almost as good as Marcy Playgrounds, "Sex and Candy". Classic. I'm going to save it for tomorrow morning when my brain arises. I'm actually playing two characters in here. A witch Moon and Saskia. 2 CSs - Yay!*hangs self*
Sex and cookies are a great end to any night.
Saskia the Dragonslayer?
Because if so Amir's gonna tap that, haha.
Fulsom said
Sex and cookies are a great end to any night.Saskia the Dragonslayer? Because if so Amir's gonna tap that, haha.
My favourite type of magic.
I'll start on a CS once I figure out what I want to be.
Name: Tarquin Brantimokem Kleist of Riedbrune
Race: Half-Elf (human father, elven mother)
Class: Sorcerer
Age: 75
Appearance:
As a half-elf, Tarquin possesses traits of both races. He has, however, not inherited the characteristic elven ears. On the outside he looks far more human than elven, the true manifestation of the latter lying in his ability to wield magic and his lack of cuspids (canine teeth). Fortunately for his dealings with the world, he smiles rarely, thus keeping his dental handicap hidden. From his father, a baron holding lands in the vicinity of Riedbrune, hail the strong facial features and distinct red hair, whereas his mother has blessed him with eyes of a piercing blue colour.
Tarquin is a man of tall stature with a wiry built. He is by no means extraordinarily muscular but clearly takes care of his physique. Underneath his clothes, -usually in shades of blue, white, black and gold, he has several tattoos of swirling symbols and ancient runes; the latter often containing coded enchantments and formulae. As both a mage and half-elf, Tarquin appears to be in his late thirties.
Personality:
Tarquin is a very proud man for conflicting reasons. Firstly, he is a scion of human nobility. Secondly, -in spite of the condemnation usually befalling his kind, being a half-elf ties him to the Aen Seidhe; the elves of old. These original reasons aside, Tarquin is a young sorcerer but incredibly gifted which infuses him with perhaps a higher than recommended dosage of pride.
Intelligent and learned, like most sorcerers, he is a man of the world having chosen to expand the knowledge he gathered from books with the hard truths of reality. While initially being a very idealistic individual pursuing peace and serenity, Tarquin has been distancing himself from his old beliefs. War, racism and violence have disillusioned him greatly. Though he still maintains many of his original ideals and ideas, the half-elf mage has turned to a more Machiavellian and utilitarian way of seeing things. While he has never had the reputation of being friendly, he has grown increasingly stern in later years. In short, he has become more independent and ruthless.
Additionally, Tarquin of Riedbrune has interest for poetry and prose, not solely focussing on academic writings.
Tarquin is a calculated man with a penchant for strategy and control. Though not without patience, his passions continuously bubble just below his skin. While appearing distant, he seems to possess an attraction to people, able to be extremely persuasive due to his natural charm, charisma and the power he wields.
Weapons:
In the traditional sense of weaponry, Tarquin has managed to learn the way of the sword. By no means is he an expert swordsman like the famous Geralt of Rivia or other renowned fighters, but –with the sword he inherited from his later father baron- he is able to use one reasonably well.
His main weapons consist of his knowledge of the world and magical properties, as well as his ability to wield them. Known as a gifted user of sorcery and powerful spells, he is said to become one of the more important magicians. Though he can draw power from all elements –like almost all wizards, he has deliberately chosen not to draw from fire too often. Fire is the best but simultaneously most dangerous elemental source to draw power from. Mages who specialize in the magic of fire often achieve great power, but they pay a price for it: as fire addicts, they often suffer burns or even die engulfed in flames. The essence of fire becomes their essence, which makes them vulnerable to water. Instead, Tarquin seeks to master the mysteries of the arcane.
Bio:
He was born in 1199 as the illegitimate son of an Angren baron and scullery maid. There is some doubt whether he came into the world in 1199 or 1200, for his mother gave birth to him on the night of the turn of the century –something Tarquin would later interpret as a portent of design and power. During his early years he grew up among the residents of the castle at Riedbrune, working in the kitchens or stables. These menial labours annoyed him to no end, for it became clear that even at a young age he was a proud and gifted individual.
When a decade later there was no more denying that he was his father’s son, the castellan expelled them from the keep. The baron had married and it would be ‘unseemly’ to keep the blame and shame too close to heart, lest it poison his new union. Tarquin’s mother subsequently installed herself just outside of Riedbrune, in the village huddled close to the castle’s walls. She taught her son the ways of the forest and Aen Seidhe, so that he could help her managing her new business. The expelled elf had become a wisewoman, dealing herbs and infusions that combatted illnesses of all kinds.
Four years passed when it was discovered Tarquin possessed the Gift. Exposed as a Source, the young half-elf was frisked away by agents of Ban Ard to aid him in mastering his unexpected abilities. Years of rigorous training and studying followed within the walls of the magic school of Ban Ard in Kaedwen.
By 1250, Tarquin had passed from being an adept of sorcery to a sorcerer in his own right. He did however study for several more years under Radcliffe of Oxenfurt, who taught him about arcane magic.
It proves difficult to trace his steps during the period of 1250 to 1262, though it is certain he spent some time at the university in Oxenfurt for its library, as well as returned to Ban Ard to teach new adepts. Reputedly he also visited his mother at Riedbrune on various occasions whenever his personal responsibilities and ambitions allowed.
However, in July 1262, Nilfgaard invaded the Northern Kingdoms without much warning. Tarquin urged the mages of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to take action, but seeing as he was not a member of the Chapter, nor the Council, his voice meant little. While Vilgefortz of Roggeveen expanded his influence within the Brotherhood, prior to intervening in the First Nilfgaard War, Tarquin acted as an independent agent for the Kingdom of Angren.
In one of the battles between Angren forces and Nilfgaardian detachments, Tarquin’s father was wounded. On a previous occasion he had been able to save the baron, but had not been close when a Nilfgaardian bolt pierced his father’s gorget. Either through chance or planning, he was in time at the old man’s deathbed, receiving a signet ring and ancestral sword as his inheritance.
After the defeat at Marnadal, the Slaughter of Cintra ensued, leaving the Northern Kingdoms disheartened. Not long after, with the backing of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, the monarchs doubled their efforts, leading to the Battle of Sodden Hill. Radcliffe of Oxenfurt reconciled Tarquin with the rest of the mages prior to the battle. Though he fought and participated in the battle and campaign, Tarquin was not one of the twenty mages holding Sodden Hill. Instead he was active on various fronts of the battlefield, keeping Nilfgaardian forces at bay on the flanks lest they capture the hill whereupon the mages were making their stand.
Following the conclusion of the First Nilfgaard War, Tarquin attempted to pacify unruly elements in Angren to prevent further bloodshed. The kingdom had managed to hold back the Nilfgaardian invaders, at great cost, but wished to continue the war-effort to free Cintra.
Two years later, in 1264, events would take an alarming pace. Hostilities between the halted Nilfgaardians and bellicose Northern Kingdoms rose quickly due to provocative actions on and from both sides. Tarquin knew another war was imminent and moved quickly to gather support among the Brotherhood for a more timely intervention than the last time. However, by now Vilgefortz was firmly rooted within the organisation of mages and staged a coup on Thanedd Island. Tarquin survived but was shocked by the sudden betrayal. He blamed Vilgefortz, who was in league with the Emperor, for forcing him to fight his friends and colleagues, as well as the kin of his mother –for elves, backed by Nilfgaard, had participated in the coup.
While Radcliffe attempted to reorganise the mages, Tarquin set out on his own. Vilgefortz of Roggeveen had escaped with his life, after wounding Geralt of Rivia, famous Witcher. Nonetheless, his victim hunted the wizard down and slew him, depriving Tarquin of his vengeance. The sorcerer returned home, finding that confidence in the sorcerers had dropped. Many of them were expelled from the royal courts.
Subsequently the female wizards banded together to form the Lodge of Sorceresses. In vain Tarquin attempted to reconcile the monarchs and rulers with the sorcerers, participating in the Battle of Brenna. He grew bitter when his efforts were ignored and the Lodge took credit for brokering the Peace of Cintra in 1268, concluding the Second Nilfgaard War. Radcliffe, Tarquin’s mentor, retreated to his private property to avoid the outside world.
To pile calamity onto catastrophe, Angren was annexed by the Empire of Nilfgaard and the plague swept across the lands. Increasing racial tensions resulted in pogroms, which Tarquin tried to prevent. However, when in 1272 the Witch Hunts commenced perhaps the greatest personal blow was struck against the half-elf sorcerer. Being an elf and called a witch, his mother was swiftly arrested and executed by the governor of Angren and his lackeys.
For the following two years Tarquin occupied himself with personal matters and lobbied for a restitution of a Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Unsurprisingly he was present at the talks at Loc Muinne in 1274 and helped the monarchs escape after the attack of the dragon. He now also saw the Lodge of Sorceresses as an enemy of both himself as well as the class of mages in general. There were too many egotistical and dangerous women holding power. Tarquin held them responsible for all the evil befallen the Northern Kingdoms after the Thanedd Coup in 1264.
Tarquin is currently preparing to reinstate a society of sorcerers to combat both the warmongers, xenophobes and ambitious sorceresses.
Other:
Whenever in a pensive mood –which is frequently the case, Tarquin rubs the tip of his thumb and middle finger together.
Race: Half-Elf (human father, elven mother)
Class: Sorcerer
Age: 75
Appearance:
As a half-elf, Tarquin possesses traits of both races. He has, however, not inherited the characteristic elven ears. On the outside he looks far more human than elven, the true manifestation of the latter lying in his ability to wield magic and his lack of cuspids (canine teeth). Fortunately for his dealings with the world, he smiles rarely, thus keeping his dental handicap hidden. From his father, a baron holding lands in the vicinity of Riedbrune, hail the strong facial features and distinct red hair, whereas his mother has blessed him with eyes of a piercing blue colour.
Tarquin is a man of tall stature with a wiry built. He is by no means extraordinarily muscular but clearly takes care of his physique. Underneath his clothes, -usually in shades of blue, white, black and gold, he has several tattoos of swirling symbols and ancient runes; the latter often containing coded enchantments and formulae. As both a mage and half-elf, Tarquin appears to be in his late thirties.
Personality:
Tarquin is a very proud man for conflicting reasons. Firstly, he is a scion of human nobility. Secondly, -in spite of the condemnation usually befalling his kind, being a half-elf ties him to the Aen Seidhe; the elves of old. These original reasons aside, Tarquin is a young sorcerer but incredibly gifted which infuses him with perhaps a higher than recommended dosage of pride.
Intelligent and learned, like most sorcerers, he is a man of the world having chosen to expand the knowledge he gathered from books with the hard truths of reality. While initially being a very idealistic individual pursuing peace and serenity, Tarquin has been distancing himself from his old beliefs. War, racism and violence have disillusioned him greatly. Though he still maintains many of his original ideals and ideas, the half-elf mage has turned to a more Machiavellian and utilitarian way of seeing things. While he has never had the reputation of being friendly, he has grown increasingly stern in later years. In short, he has become more independent and ruthless.
Additionally, Tarquin of Riedbrune has interest for poetry and prose, not solely focussing on academic writings.
Tarquin is a calculated man with a penchant for strategy and control. Though not without patience, his passions continuously bubble just below his skin. While appearing distant, he seems to possess an attraction to people, able to be extremely persuasive due to his natural charm, charisma and the power he wields.
Weapons:
In the traditional sense of weaponry, Tarquin has managed to learn the way of the sword. By no means is he an expert swordsman like the famous Geralt of Rivia or other renowned fighters, but –with the sword he inherited from his later father baron- he is able to use one reasonably well.
His main weapons consist of his knowledge of the world and magical properties, as well as his ability to wield them. Known as a gifted user of sorcery and powerful spells, he is said to become one of the more important magicians. Though he can draw power from all elements –like almost all wizards, he has deliberately chosen not to draw from fire too often. Fire is the best but simultaneously most dangerous elemental source to draw power from. Mages who specialize in the magic of fire often achieve great power, but they pay a price for it: as fire addicts, they often suffer burns or even die engulfed in flames. The essence of fire becomes their essence, which makes them vulnerable to water. Instead, Tarquin seeks to master the mysteries of the arcane.
Bio:
He was born in 1199 as the illegitimate son of an Angren baron and scullery maid. There is some doubt whether he came into the world in 1199 or 1200, for his mother gave birth to him on the night of the turn of the century –something Tarquin would later interpret as a portent of design and power. During his early years he grew up among the residents of the castle at Riedbrune, working in the kitchens or stables. These menial labours annoyed him to no end, for it became clear that even at a young age he was a proud and gifted individual.
When a decade later there was no more denying that he was his father’s son, the castellan expelled them from the keep. The baron had married and it would be ‘unseemly’ to keep the blame and shame too close to heart, lest it poison his new union. Tarquin’s mother subsequently installed herself just outside of Riedbrune, in the village huddled close to the castle’s walls. She taught her son the ways of the forest and Aen Seidhe, so that he could help her managing her new business. The expelled elf had become a wisewoman, dealing herbs and infusions that combatted illnesses of all kinds.
Four years passed when it was discovered Tarquin possessed the Gift. Exposed as a Source, the young half-elf was frisked away by agents of Ban Ard to aid him in mastering his unexpected abilities. Years of rigorous training and studying followed within the walls of the magic school of Ban Ard in Kaedwen.
By 1250, Tarquin had passed from being an adept of sorcery to a sorcerer in his own right. He did however study for several more years under Radcliffe of Oxenfurt, who taught him about arcane magic.
It proves difficult to trace his steps during the period of 1250 to 1262, though it is certain he spent some time at the university in Oxenfurt for its library, as well as returned to Ban Ard to teach new adepts. Reputedly he also visited his mother at Riedbrune on various occasions whenever his personal responsibilities and ambitions allowed.
However, in July 1262, Nilfgaard invaded the Northern Kingdoms without much warning. Tarquin urged the mages of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to take action, but seeing as he was not a member of the Chapter, nor the Council, his voice meant little. While Vilgefortz of Roggeveen expanded his influence within the Brotherhood, prior to intervening in the First Nilfgaard War, Tarquin acted as an independent agent for the Kingdom of Angren.
In one of the battles between Angren forces and Nilfgaardian detachments, Tarquin’s father was wounded. On a previous occasion he had been able to save the baron, but had not been close when a Nilfgaardian bolt pierced his father’s gorget. Either through chance or planning, he was in time at the old man’s deathbed, receiving a signet ring and ancestral sword as his inheritance.
After the defeat at Marnadal, the Slaughter of Cintra ensued, leaving the Northern Kingdoms disheartened. Not long after, with the backing of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, the monarchs doubled their efforts, leading to the Battle of Sodden Hill. Radcliffe of Oxenfurt reconciled Tarquin with the rest of the mages prior to the battle. Though he fought and participated in the battle and campaign, Tarquin was not one of the twenty mages holding Sodden Hill. Instead he was active on various fronts of the battlefield, keeping Nilfgaardian forces at bay on the flanks lest they capture the hill whereupon the mages were making their stand.
Following the conclusion of the First Nilfgaard War, Tarquin attempted to pacify unruly elements in Angren to prevent further bloodshed. The kingdom had managed to hold back the Nilfgaardian invaders, at great cost, but wished to continue the war-effort to free Cintra.
Two years later, in 1264, events would take an alarming pace. Hostilities between the halted Nilfgaardians and bellicose Northern Kingdoms rose quickly due to provocative actions on and from both sides. Tarquin knew another war was imminent and moved quickly to gather support among the Brotherhood for a more timely intervention than the last time. However, by now Vilgefortz was firmly rooted within the organisation of mages and staged a coup on Thanedd Island. Tarquin survived but was shocked by the sudden betrayal. He blamed Vilgefortz, who was in league with the Emperor, for forcing him to fight his friends and colleagues, as well as the kin of his mother –for elves, backed by Nilfgaard, had participated in the coup.
While Radcliffe attempted to reorganise the mages, Tarquin set out on his own. Vilgefortz of Roggeveen had escaped with his life, after wounding Geralt of Rivia, famous Witcher. Nonetheless, his victim hunted the wizard down and slew him, depriving Tarquin of his vengeance. The sorcerer returned home, finding that confidence in the sorcerers had dropped. Many of them were expelled from the royal courts.
Subsequently the female wizards banded together to form the Lodge of Sorceresses. In vain Tarquin attempted to reconcile the monarchs and rulers with the sorcerers, participating in the Battle of Brenna. He grew bitter when his efforts were ignored and the Lodge took credit for brokering the Peace of Cintra in 1268, concluding the Second Nilfgaard War. Radcliffe, Tarquin’s mentor, retreated to his private property to avoid the outside world.
To pile calamity onto catastrophe, Angren was annexed by the Empire of Nilfgaard and the plague swept across the lands. Increasing racial tensions resulted in pogroms, which Tarquin tried to prevent. However, when in 1272 the Witch Hunts commenced perhaps the greatest personal blow was struck against the half-elf sorcerer. Being an elf and called a witch, his mother was swiftly arrested and executed by the governor of Angren and his lackeys.
For the following two years Tarquin occupied himself with personal matters and lobbied for a restitution of a Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Unsurprisingly he was present at the talks at Loc Muinne in 1274 and helped the monarchs escape after the attack of the dragon. He now also saw the Lodge of Sorceresses as an enemy of both himself as well as the class of mages in general. There were too many egotistical and dangerous women holding power. Tarquin held them responsible for all the evil befallen the Northern Kingdoms after the Thanedd Coup in 1264.
Tarquin is currently preparing to reinstate a society of sorcerers to combat both the warmongers, xenophobes and ambitious sorceresses.
Other:
Whenever in a pensive mood –which is frequently the case, Tarquin rubs the tip of his thumb and middle finger together.
I'll get to work on a CS, it'll be up soon.
So excited, I hope there will be sex and cookies.
Fulsom said
Sex and cookies are a great end to any night.Saskia the Dragonslayer? Because if so Amir's gonna tap that, haha.
Haha. Yes, the dragonslayer and he can try, but if he's not worthy of tapping - *pulls her sword out*
Palamon said
So excited, I hope there will be sex and cookies.
I'm giggling at you. That's far too cute for this early in my morning. I'm Kate, nice to meet you love. *hands over a cookie and saves the sex for later*
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