[CHAR] Bloodrose Irregulars - The New Squad (Dark Fantasy Adventure)
- Large Group
- Fantasy
- Casual
- Slice of Life
- Medieval
- Military
- GM Arthanus
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GM
Arthanus Grey Jedi
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
Name: Alm Saito
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Appearance:
5'8" Slender Muscular Build, Long Black hair and brown eyes
Bio:
The small village of Seki buried deep in The Ittoki Pearls, the mountains in the south east part of the Empire, is the ancestral home of the of the Saito Clan and the Spirit Hunters. The mountainous terrain is perfect for training the mind as well as the body, and it is a prime location to hunt rare and powerful beasts for Spirit Hunters. This was the world Alm was born into, and it was amazing. From an early age Alm was intrigued by the spirit hunters and wanted to join their ranks. But that dream seemed far off, his mother had died during child birth and his father once a great hunter turned into a worthless drunk. Practically abandoned on the streets of Seki Alm was forced to fend for himself.
Luckily for the boy one of the Old Hunters Master Shan was willing to look after the boy and train him. Well that was what Alm believed at first. But the next twelve years pushed Alm to his limits and broke them. Determined the young boy's progress was amazing, he could easily beat other students his age given the chance. But Master Shan's training was no walk in the park even for a natural. Alm had many times where he had to fight for his life during the training, more so than any normal student would have to go through, and by the age of 18 Alm was ready to show his progress. A hunt had been arranged by the head family for their heir Mitsuhide to obtain his Spirit, their prey a Dire Frost Wolf. Alm heard of this hunt and knew the perfect way to show his power.
Alm followed the group in their hunt for a few days until he was able to find a trail to track the beast. As soon as he had her thread Alm was off. The lone hunter was easily able to maneuver and track far better than the group that now followed him allowing Alm to find the Dire Wolf's lair well before Mitsuhide. This was both a blessing and a curse as Alm would soon find out he didn't find the lair on his own accord, the wolf had lured him there. Alone Alm faced off against three frost wolves and the dire frost wolf in a bloody fight in which he almost lost. Standing the victor Alm didn't waste any time, he immediately started extracted the Spirit Stone and began ritual to absorb the Dire Frost Wolf's spirit stone.
The experience was something that could not be explained with words it was amazing, yet painful it was like being torn to shreds just to be put back together again and when he awoke from the meditative trance his life began anew. Instantly he noticed that his sense of smell and hearing had been amplified, and something was coming. Alm instantly shot up and turned, Before him stood Mitsuhide and his hunting party. Enraged that the boy had taken his kill Mitsuhide charged Alm. The fight was over quickly Alm was far to powerful for the boy and he was unable to control himself as his blade cleaved Mitsuhide in two. The remainder of the hunting party fled and to tired to chase them Alm knew what would happen.
He returned to his village a few days later expecting the worst. He was to be put to death for slaying the heir to the family "in cold blood", but luckily Master Shan was able to convince the elders that Alm was to good of a spirit hunter to waste. After agreeing to a demonstration of his abilities the elders of the clan agreed with Shan's words and instead of putting Alm to the sword they exiled him. Never to see his home again.
Alm left Seki that day and headed to the Empire. For the next five months he wandered as a Ronin helping out villagers in need while looking for a place to call home. That was when Alm meet Jing the man was strong willed, had purpose and was willing to give Alm a new life. For the next seven years Alm has followed Jing and been a member of the irregulars making a new life for himself in the Empire, although without Master Shan's Guidance his progress as a Spirit Hunter has been slow.
Fighting Style: Spirit Hunter - After fusing his own Spirit Stone with that of a creature's the hunter can surpass human limits. This also leads to more primal fighting styles as the abilities of the absorbed spirit bleed into the hunter's original Style.
Equipment:
War Glaive
Armor - Shown in picture
Supplies - enough food and water to last Alm a week in the wild
Hunting Knife
Casual Clothes
Skills/Abilities:
Tracking, As the term hunter implies Alm is a skilled tracker
Cooking, A hobby of Alm's he likes to cook making the times when hunting is the primary source of food it makes things more interesting
Other Information:
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Appearance:
5'8" Slender Muscular Build, Long Black hair and brown eyes
Bio:
The small village of Seki buried deep in The Ittoki Pearls, the mountains in the south east part of the Empire, is the ancestral home of the of the Saito Clan and the Spirit Hunters. The mountainous terrain is perfect for training the mind as well as the body, and it is a prime location to hunt rare and powerful beasts for Spirit Hunters. This was the world Alm was born into, and it was amazing. From an early age Alm was intrigued by the spirit hunters and wanted to join their ranks. But that dream seemed far off, his mother had died during child birth and his father once a great hunter turned into a worthless drunk. Practically abandoned on the streets of Seki Alm was forced to fend for himself.
Luckily for the boy one of the Old Hunters Master Shan was willing to look after the boy and train him. Well that was what Alm believed at first. But the next twelve years pushed Alm to his limits and broke them. Determined the young boy's progress was amazing, he could easily beat other students his age given the chance. But Master Shan's training was no walk in the park even for a natural. Alm had many times where he had to fight for his life during the training, more so than any normal student would have to go through, and by the age of 18 Alm was ready to show his progress. A hunt had been arranged by the head family for their heir Mitsuhide to obtain his Spirit, their prey a Dire Frost Wolf. Alm heard of this hunt and knew the perfect way to show his power.
Alm followed the group in their hunt for a few days until he was able to find a trail to track the beast. As soon as he had her thread Alm was off. The lone hunter was easily able to maneuver and track far better than the group that now followed him allowing Alm to find the Dire Wolf's lair well before Mitsuhide. This was both a blessing and a curse as Alm would soon find out he didn't find the lair on his own accord, the wolf had lured him there. Alone Alm faced off against three frost wolves and the dire frost wolf in a bloody fight in which he almost lost. Standing the victor Alm didn't waste any time, he immediately started extracted the Spirit Stone and began ritual to absorb the Dire Frost Wolf's spirit stone.
The experience was something that could not be explained with words it was amazing, yet painful it was like being torn to shreds just to be put back together again and when he awoke from the meditative trance his life began anew. Instantly he noticed that his sense of smell and hearing had been amplified, and something was coming. Alm instantly shot up and turned, Before him stood Mitsuhide and his hunting party. Enraged that the boy had taken his kill Mitsuhide charged Alm. The fight was over quickly Alm was far to powerful for the boy and he was unable to control himself as his blade cleaved Mitsuhide in two. The remainder of the hunting party fled and to tired to chase them Alm knew what would happen.
He returned to his village a few days later expecting the worst. He was to be put to death for slaying the heir to the family "in cold blood", but luckily Master Shan was able to convince the elders that Alm was to good of a spirit hunter to waste. After agreeing to a demonstration of his abilities the elders of the clan agreed with Shan's words and instead of putting Alm to the sword they exiled him. Never to see his home again.
Alm left Seki that day and headed to the Empire. For the next five months he wandered as a Ronin helping out villagers in need while looking for a place to call home. That was when Alm meet Jing the man was strong willed, had purpose and was willing to give Alm a new life. For the next seven years Alm has followed Jing and been a member of the irregulars making a new life for himself in the Empire, although without Master Shan's Guidance his progress as a Spirit Hunter has been slow.
Fighting Style: Spirit Hunter - After fusing his own Spirit Stone with that of a creature's the hunter can surpass human limits. This also leads to more primal fighting styles as the abilities of the absorbed spirit bleed into the hunter's original Style.
Equipment:
War Glaive
Armor - Shown in picture
Supplies - enough food and water to last Alm a week in the wild
Hunting Knife
Casual Clothes
Skills/Abilities:
Tracking, As the term hunter implies Alm is a skilled tracker
Cooking, A hobby of Alm's he likes to cook making the times when hunting is the primary source of food it makes things more interesting
Tier one: Scenes have been sharpened and agility enhanced due to the dire wolf
Tier two: Ice Magic, Starting to learn the basics of ice magic to empower Alms attacks
Tier three: Unknown
Tier Four: Unknown
Tier Five: Unknown
Tier two: Ice Magic, Starting to learn the basics of ice magic to empower Alms attacks
Tier three: Unknown
Tier Four: Unknown
Tier Five: Unknown
Other Information:
Spirit Hunters are are the sacred hunters of the Saito Clan. They go through an intense ritual that fuses a person's spirit stone with that of a Creatures. The process breads a powerful warrior who uses the abilities of the creatures to empower themselves. Although rarely seen in the Empire legends of their power still creep out.
Nerdy Reference So Subtle and Clever
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
CS relocated for consistency:
Name: Lady Olivia, once of House Blackmoore
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Bio:
Olivia's service to Count Blackmoore was decided at birth. Her father was their lord's favored champion and, as such, was often sent far afield to represent his interests. During the brief periods he was home, he trained his daughter in swordsmanship and extolled the virtues of service to a worthy master. When he was away, tutors lectured her on letters, etiquette, and the history of House Blackmoore.
Her years as a squire were hard and rewarding, but as Olivia came into her own, her father's age and war wounds began to take their toll. Finally, fate caught up with the aged champion and he died quietly in his sleep. In the wake of his death, rumors began quitely spreading amongst the servants and common folk of sinister plots and mysterious lights emanating from the lord's manor. It was during this period of mistrust and slander that Olivia was granted knighthood and a place at her lord's side.
The darkness growing within House Blackmoore revealed itself in small ways. Overly vocal servants were quickly and quietly replaced with complaint ones, dissidents that would have been handled with diplomacy were instead put to the sword, and Count Blackmoore himself was seen less and less even by his newest champion. Eventually, the bubble burst.
Whether by design or accident, no one knows, but one evening, a horde of undead monstrosities tore their way out of the manor's cellar and slaughtered their way through the servants and retainers. In a desperate bid to save her lord, Olivia fought her way to his study, only to find a magic circle that still glowed with the energies of whatever ritual had taken place. An open tome on the desk detailed a ritual that promised to grant everlasting unlife to the caster, but at considerable cost of human life.
Incensed at being made to serve a master that would gleefully sacrifice his loyal subordinates for something so pointless as immortality, Olivia carved a bloody path through the monsters that had ravaged her childhood home and searched extensively for her traitorous lord. Perhaps the ritual had backfired, or maybe he had been spirited away by unknown allies, but no trace of him or his body were ever found.
With no lord to tie her down, and no taste for remaining in the accursed manor house, Olivia turned her back on a life of privilege and has instead been searching for a worthy cause to lend her blade to. As fate would have it, she found the Bloodrose Irregulars.
In the months since joining, she quickly became a squad leader and has even been called upon to offer advice regarding the nobility. Since being granted command, her unit has suffered nearly no casualties and no fatalities, owing to her stalwart defense of those under her and her rigorous training regime.
Fighting Style: Sword 'n' Board
Equipment:
- Gilded Platemail: A symbol of her fallen lord's favor, the elegantly decorated suit of platemail possesses enchantments to protect against blades, arrows, and fire.
- The Black Blade: Taken as a reminder of her service, the gleaming sword of the Blackmoore family has a long, bloody history and even now bears the subtle stink of undeath.
- Blackmoore Family Shield: A masterfully crafted shield bearing the Blackmoore family's crest that has been enchanted to protect the bearer against death magic.
Skills/Abilities:
- Stand Tall, Stand Firm: When others would falter or break, Olivia holds fast against impossible odds and certain doom.
- Knight's Challenge: Olivia may issue a personal challenge to noteworthy enemies such as champions or commanders. Only dishonorable cowards with no pride would dare refuse such a challenge.
- Black Knight: The Knights of House Blackmoore have a long history as mage-killers, as such, Olivia is resistant to direct magical attacks.
Other Information:
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Bio:
Olivia's service to Count Blackmoore was decided at birth. Her father was their lord's favored champion and, as such, was often sent far afield to represent his interests. During the brief periods he was home, he trained his daughter in swordsmanship and extolled the virtues of service to a worthy master. When he was away, tutors lectured her on letters, etiquette, and the history of House Blackmoore.
Her years as a squire were hard and rewarding, but as Olivia came into her own, her father's age and war wounds began to take their toll. Finally, fate caught up with the aged champion and he died quietly in his sleep. In the wake of his death, rumors began quitely spreading amongst the servants and common folk of sinister plots and mysterious lights emanating from the lord's manor. It was during this period of mistrust and slander that Olivia was granted knighthood and a place at her lord's side.
The darkness growing within House Blackmoore revealed itself in small ways. Overly vocal servants were quickly and quietly replaced with complaint ones, dissidents that would have been handled with diplomacy were instead put to the sword, and Count Blackmoore himself was seen less and less even by his newest champion. Eventually, the bubble burst.
Whether by design or accident, no one knows, but one evening, a horde of undead monstrosities tore their way out of the manor's cellar and slaughtered their way through the servants and retainers. In a desperate bid to save her lord, Olivia fought her way to his study, only to find a magic circle that still glowed with the energies of whatever ritual had taken place. An open tome on the desk detailed a ritual that promised to grant everlasting unlife to the caster, but at considerable cost of human life.
Incensed at being made to serve a master that would gleefully sacrifice his loyal subordinates for something so pointless as immortality, Olivia carved a bloody path through the monsters that had ravaged her childhood home and searched extensively for her traitorous lord. Perhaps the ritual had backfired, or maybe he had been spirited away by unknown allies, but no trace of him or his body were ever found.
With no lord to tie her down, and no taste for remaining in the accursed manor house, Olivia turned her back on a life of privilege and has instead been searching for a worthy cause to lend her blade to. As fate would have it, she found the Bloodrose Irregulars.
In the months since joining, she quickly became a squad leader and has even been called upon to offer advice regarding the nobility. Since being granted command, her unit has suffered nearly no casualties and no fatalities, owing to her stalwart defense of those under her and her rigorous training regime.
Fighting Style: Sword 'n' Board
Equipment:
- Gilded Platemail: A symbol of her fallen lord's favor, the elegantly decorated suit of platemail possesses enchantments to protect against blades, arrows, and fire.
- The Black Blade: Taken as a reminder of her service, the gleaming sword of the Blackmoore family has a long, bloody history and even now bears the subtle stink of undeath.
- Blackmoore Family Shield: A masterfully crafted shield bearing the Blackmoore family's crest that has been enchanted to protect the bearer against death magic.
Skills/Abilities:
- Stand Tall, Stand Firm: When others would falter or break, Olivia holds fast against impossible odds and certain doom.
- Knight's Challenge: Olivia may issue a personal challenge to noteworthy enemies such as champions or commanders. Only dishonorable cowards with no pride would dare refuse such a challenge.
- Black Knight: The Knights of House Blackmoore have a long history as mage-killers, as such, Olivia is resistant to direct magical attacks.
Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
Lumiere Sur les yeux
Member
Seen
8 mos ago
Name: Kaeciel Sinclair
Race: Beastmen Leporidae
Gender: Biologically Male
Age: 20
Kaeci stands at 4'10 in a pair of insulated steel-toe'd knee-high boots with a flat heel elevating an extra inch and a half. From this, thick black thighhigh socks extend up just past the edge of a large, beaten, gray, canvas coat. Layered sections of a black leather armor is clipped into place over the lacing on the shins of their boots, hinting to their style of armor. Under their coat, snug black booty shorts are designed not to get in the way of armor similar to their chestpiece, riveted to a broad belt and strapped to their thighs. Some liberties were taken with the design to leave the sides of the chest piece open while still closely fitted to their abdomen and back, held in place with belts on the side of their ribs. This masterwork leather armor terminates in a turtleneck-type design reminiscent of a collar. This part, however, is covered by multiple wraps of a black, blue and red plaid scarf often kept pulled up to their nose bearing numerous faint scents of myriad perfumes and other curious scents. Fingerless gauntlets matching the set emerge from the cut-down sleeves of the coat. These gauntlets have a series of three belts around the fore and upper arms to tighten them in place as the armor otherwise functions like long gloves, ending just below the shoulders.
Curiously, in the armor's design, aside from lacking sides, more exceptions were taken around joints such as the elbows and knees that remain largely unprotected. The only benefits this seems to offer is an allowance of a full range of motion under some assumption that the wearer is uncommonly flexible.
Two small nubs grow from his head, antlers usually kept filed down.
Fighting Style: Crossbow Marksmanship, Fencing
Equipment
- 'Rogue Custom' - A set of form-fitting black leather armor commissioned for Kaeci by his former master. Its design contains many shortcomings in practicality and was mostly intended for aesthetic purposes, though the sturdy material and craftsmanship makes for a quality defence...where the armor actually covers. (Details in Appearance)
- 'The Hunter's Crutch' - A repeating crossbow of Dwarven design fitted with a foregrip to add leverage for its sophisticated lever-action priming system. The build focuses on speed and reliability.
- 'Black Ambers' - His deceased master's favorite rapier and now Kaeciel's treasure.
Skills/Abilities
- Demihuman Traits - Tall, keen ears that are remarkably sensitive to sound and eyes capable of cutting through twilight make beastmen like Kaeciel exceptional at playing roles as a scout or watchman. While his type is hardly physically formidable, their evolution forced a greater focus on evading danger than outwardly dealing with it.
- Lithe - Impressively flexible and capable of partial dislocation and relocation of joints, Kaeci has much experience with fitting in tight spaces. They're no contortionist by any means, but their size has its benefits, and this skill only accentuates the utility of their stature. Great at hiding...maybe a tiny bit claustrophobic, though. Useful for slipping out of restraints or just grossing people out a little.
- A Servant's Slight - Life experience of being a slave to House Sinclair has gifted Kaeciel with culinary skills as well as an attention to detail and a deceptively sharp wit and empathetic intuition. He often portrays himself as being more meek and naive than he truly is, though he is still vastly unfamiliar with the doings of life beyond the walls.
Other Information:
Race: Beastmen Leporidae
Gender: Biologically Male
Age: 20
Kaeci stands at 4'10 in a pair of insulated steel-toe'd knee-high boots with a flat heel elevating an extra inch and a half. From this, thick black thighhigh socks extend up just past the edge of a large, beaten, gray, canvas coat. Layered sections of a black leather armor is clipped into place over the lacing on the shins of their boots, hinting to their style of armor. Under their coat, snug black booty shorts are designed not to get in the way of armor similar to their chestpiece, riveted to a broad belt and strapped to their thighs. Some liberties were taken with the design to leave the sides of the chest piece open while still closely fitted to their abdomen and back, held in place with belts on the side of their ribs. This masterwork leather armor terminates in a turtleneck-type design reminiscent of a collar. This part, however, is covered by multiple wraps of a black, blue and red plaid scarf often kept pulled up to their nose bearing numerous faint scents of myriad perfumes and other curious scents. Fingerless gauntlets matching the set emerge from the cut-down sleeves of the coat. These gauntlets have a series of three belts around the fore and upper arms to tighten them in place as the armor otherwise functions like long gloves, ending just below the shoulders.
Curiously, in the armor's design, aside from lacking sides, more exceptions were taken around joints such as the elbows and knees that remain largely unprotected. The only benefits this seems to offer is an allowance of a full range of motion under some assumption that the wearer is uncommonly flexible.
Two small nubs grow from his head, antlers usually kept filed down.
Service. I do not remember the days when I did not serve. I cleaned, I cooked and, in darker moments, I bled. Master Sinclair was the world I knew, and thought nothing of what life was outside of the estate. Rarely I would know the pain of starvation or exposure to the elements for my mistakes, but such was the terms of punishment for failure. I held the lessons dear and improved myself as to earn meals and a place to sleep, and I was rewarded for my work.
Requests to sing, prepare specialties for honored guests or even...well...assisting the younger Master was less than my preferred activity. We would fence, as I had been trained, though the hardship that lingered on the other servants' lips was made clear from the beatings I received when the boy would get carried away. He taught me about the concept of justice, and how we deserved it; he taught me what contrivances invented my place beneath his heel...he taught me how to hate.
None of this was what I wanted, you have to understand me. It was still my home that went up in flames, the night the Master was murdered. I had no clue how to be free, or what free people did or how they lived outside walls, and now suddenly I was one of them. I gathered what I could, rescuing the Old Lord's crossbow from the flames...and wrenching the blade from the younger's beaten body. Then I was gone.
There used to be more of us in the first week. Jaakob and Marlowe were cut down by the guards to buy time for the rest of us to escape. They were the better of us, and losing them left its scar. Many tried to turn themselves in, a number meeting the same fate or being put back into irons, never to be seen again. I had...skills...and upon hearing of the Bloodrose Irregulars, I hoped to once again serve in exchange for protection. Perhaps, by being a part of something, I would not be made to be a part of something else against my will. While I hoped my first real choice as a free man would pay off, my friends moved on towards their own goal in seeking a peaceful home of their own. I do not hold ill will against them, but I still have questions about that night.
Who murdered Jericho Sinclair?
Requests to sing, prepare specialties for honored guests or even...well...assisting the younger Master was less than my preferred activity. We would fence, as I had been trained, though the hardship that lingered on the other servants' lips was made clear from the beatings I received when the boy would get carried away. He taught me about the concept of justice, and how we deserved it; he taught me what contrivances invented my place beneath his heel...he taught me how to hate.
None of this was what I wanted, you have to understand me. It was still my home that went up in flames, the night the Master was murdered. I had no clue how to be free, or what free people did or how they lived outside walls, and now suddenly I was one of them. I gathered what I could, rescuing the Old Lord's crossbow from the flames...and wrenching the blade from the younger's beaten body. Then I was gone.
There used to be more of us in the first week. Jaakob and Marlowe were cut down by the guards to buy time for the rest of us to escape. They were the better of us, and losing them left its scar. Many tried to turn themselves in, a number meeting the same fate or being put back into irons, never to be seen again. I had...skills...and upon hearing of the Bloodrose Irregulars, I hoped to once again serve in exchange for protection. Perhaps, by being a part of something, I would not be made to be a part of something else against my will. While I hoped my first real choice as a free man would pay off, my friends moved on towards their own goal in seeking a peaceful home of their own. I do not hold ill will against them, but I still have questions about that night.
Who murdered Jericho Sinclair?
Fighting Style: Crossbow Marksmanship, Fencing
Equipment
- 'Rogue Custom' - A set of form-fitting black leather armor commissioned for Kaeci by his former master. Its design contains many shortcomings in practicality and was mostly intended for aesthetic purposes, though the sturdy material and craftsmanship makes for a quality defence...where the armor actually covers. (Details in Appearance)
- 'The Hunter's Crutch' - A repeating crossbow of Dwarven design fitted with a foregrip to add leverage for its sophisticated lever-action priming system. The build focuses on speed and reliability.
- 'Black Ambers' - His deceased master's favorite rapier and now Kaeciel's treasure.
Skills/Abilities
- Demihuman Traits - Tall, keen ears that are remarkably sensitive to sound and eyes capable of cutting through twilight make beastmen like Kaeciel exceptional at playing roles as a scout or watchman. While his type is hardly physically formidable, their evolution forced a greater focus on evading danger than outwardly dealing with it.
- Lithe - Impressively flexible and capable of partial dislocation and relocation of joints, Kaeci has much experience with fitting in tight spaces. They're no contortionist by any means, but their size has its benefits, and this skill only accentuates the utility of their stature. Great at hiding...maybe a tiny bit claustrophobic, though. Useful for slipping out of restraints or just grossing people out a little.
- A Servant's Slight - Life experience of being a slave to House Sinclair has gifted Kaeciel with culinary skills as well as an attention to detail and a deceptively sharp wit and empathetic intuition. He often portrays himself as being more meek and naive than he truly is, though he is still vastly unfamiliar with the doings of life beyond the walls.
Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
Aragorn The Gentleman of Light
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Name: Ariel Lightwood
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Appearance:
She is 5 foot 7 inches. Unlike the picture, she has heterochromia, her left eye being blue and her right eye being brown. She normally keeps her hair tied into a pony tail behind her back so it does not get in the way.
Bio:
She was born in the City of Golden Shores, her parents being somewhat successful merchants and she herself assisting them in their work. At the age of ten, they were set upon one night by a gang of thieves, who had proceeded to relieve the three of all their valuables and profits of the day. Not happy yet with their haul, they then tried to steal her as well from them, presumably to sell her as a servant on the black market. Her parents, having attempted to fight back against the kidnapping, were stabbed multiple times in front of her. Before the group could take her however, they were ambushed by a rogue vigilante, his fiery blades cutting through cloth and skin like butter.
Nicholson, as her savior introduced himself, took her in, raising her as if she was his own. He taught her how to steal food and clothing without being detected, how to defend herself, and even continued teaching her how to read and write. For several years, they lived happily with each other, despite the harrowing circumstances they regularly encountered. However, after she turned eighteen, he had become very sick. During this time, she spent all the money she could find and steal on trying to find a cure for him. Having found nothing, his time came at the beginning of the next year. Before his death however, he bequeathed to her his pair of fiery blades and pleaded with her not to continue their lifestyle, wanting her to achieve something greater in her life.
Grief ridden, she took odd jobs in an attempt to follow her long time mentor's last wishes. After four years, she had begun to despise the city she had been born and raised in, having made very little progress in her attempts at an honest living. Then, one night while trying to drink her worries away in an inn, she heard tales of a company of mercenaries by the name of the Bloodrose Irregulars. The next morning, she gathered up what little possesions she had and left for Honimora, figuring anything was better than staying in her birthplace.
Now, being a new recruit to the company, she awaited her first mission...
Fighting Style: Thief. She has very swift and agile movements, focusing on dispatching her opponent as quickly and quietly as possible. Sneak attacks and back attacks are her specialty, and is not beyond the use of trickery to get the best of her opponent.
Equipment: A pair of Tanto daggers. Also carries several throwing knives.
Skills/Abilities: Her main blades are relics of the fire type, allowing her to spontaneously heat them up at will to a glowing, white hot temperature without damaging the blades. She is currently however unable to maintain the heat for more than a few seconds. She is also talented at remaining hidden and quiet.
Other Information:
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Appearance:
She is 5 foot 7 inches. Unlike the picture, she has heterochromia, her left eye being blue and her right eye being brown. She normally keeps her hair tied into a pony tail behind her back so it does not get in the way.
Bio:
She was born in the City of Golden Shores, her parents being somewhat successful merchants and she herself assisting them in their work. At the age of ten, they were set upon one night by a gang of thieves, who had proceeded to relieve the three of all their valuables and profits of the day. Not happy yet with their haul, they then tried to steal her as well from them, presumably to sell her as a servant on the black market. Her parents, having attempted to fight back against the kidnapping, were stabbed multiple times in front of her. Before the group could take her however, they were ambushed by a rogue vigilante, his fiery blades cutting through cloth and skin like butter.
Nicholson, as her savior introduced himself, took her in, raising her as if she was his own. He taught her how to steal food and clothing without being detected, how to defend herself, and even continued teaching her how to read and write. For several years, they lived happily with each other, despite the harrowing circumstances they regularly encountered. However, after she turned eighteen, he had become very sick. During this time, she spent all the money she could find and steal on trying to find a cure for him. Having found nothing, his time came at the beginning of the next year. Before his death however, he bequeathed to her his pair of fiery blades and pleaded with her not to continue their lifestyle, wanting her to achieve something greater in her life.
Grief ridden, she took odd jobs in an attempt to follow her long time mentor's last wishes. After four years, she had begun to despise the city she had been born and raised in, having made very little progress in her attempts at an honest living. Then, one night while trying to drink her worries away in an inn, she heard tales of a company of mercenaries by the name of the Bloodrose Irregulars. The next morning, she gathered up what little possesions she had and left for Honimora, figuring anything was better than staying in her birthplace.
Now, being a new recruit to the company, she awaited her first mission...
Fighting Style: Thief. She has very swift and agile movements, focusing on dispatching her opponent as quickly and quietly as possible. Sneak attacks and back attacks are her specialty, and is not beyond the use of trickery to get the best of her opponent.
Equipment: A pair of Tanto daggers. Also carries several throwing knives.
Skills/Abilities: Her main blades are relics of the fire type, allowing her to spontaneously heat them up at will to a glowing, white hot temperature without damaging the blades. She is currently however unable to maintain the heat for more than a few seconds. She is also talented at remaining hidden and quiet.
Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
Athol Safety Factor 7
Member
Seen
23 min ago
Name
Iroryn VaroRace
Half-Elven (High Elf)Gender
FemaleAge
26
Description
Biography
She was found as a baby, still in swaddling, when a small Imperial detachment raided and destroyed a large bandit encampment along the southwestern coast of the Empire, not far from the borders with the Black Desert. She was found amongst several women and girls who’d been taken as slave, but when questioned, all any of them could say was that the bandits had just left her with them several weeks prior; how they’d gotten her was unknown and any bandits that may have known all died in the fighting.
During the trip back to civilization, the local Earl’s Master-at-Arms, who’d been leading the raid, took a shine to the little girl and with his Lord’s permission, he adopted and named her. Ser Balan Varo, as her father was known, was widower who had recently lost his wife and young son to disease and so he set to ease his grief by caring for little Iroryn. Growing up on the edges of the Earl’s court, she received a good tutoring in reading, writing and such, while her own father taught her the finer points of sword-play. Once her magical talents began to show themselves, she was also tutored by the court mage on how to use and hone her powers. Her peers, at first, began to taunt her about her half-breed status as they got old enough to notice such things, but they generally also learned to keep such thoughts to themselves as she was quick with her fists and could hit much harder than her waif-ish appearance might imply.
As she grew older, she grew stronger and more skilled with both spell and blade and wished to put her talents to use. At first she’d intended to do so at her father’s side in the Earl’s service; but the old Earl passed away before she was old enough and his heir would not have a ‘half-breed’ in his service. It was with a tearful goodbye she bid her father farewell and set out to make her own way; she moved from Company to Company, trying to find somewhere that ‘fit’ to no avail. Recently she has signed onto the Bloodrose Irregulars; their reputation giving her hope that this may be a Company to stick with.
Fighting Style(s)
Spellblade’Cut-and-Move’
Equipment
- Jack-of-Plates (Shown) - A series of leather bound iron plates worn over a tightly woven cloth coat and trousers. While it’s not the most protective armour, it’s relative lightness and flexibility make it handier in avoiding hits.
- Relic Arming Sword (Worn across the back) - A treasure she took in lieu of payment while with a previous Company. It has a Soul Stone mounted in the hilt, which she uses as to augment her own powers
- Grimorie (Right side, hip) - Not just a collection of spells, it is also her journal, tracking the various things she’s done and notes about places she’s been. This is her third book, the others she has sent back to her father (Though she is careful to transcribe any spells into the new one)
- Mana Potions (Pouch below Grimoire) - Several small restoratives to boost her mana should she over exert herself in a fight. They’re expensive enough for her to really only want to use them as a last resort.
Skills/Abilities
- Armsman - Her father’s instructions with the blade, and her own experience, has made her a formidable opponent.
- Brawler - Subject to teasing or harassment due to her heritage has made her quick and effective with her fists, for those times when a blade or magic are a bit too much.
- Elven Blood - While not the same as a full-blooded Elf, her nature means she’s not only a fair bit stronger than one might expect, but she also has a deeper stamina reserve and rarely, if ever, gets sick.
- Relic Sword
- Ice Shock - Upon sword contact, a point blank blast of super-cooled air that can temporarily blind or disrupt an opponent to create an opening.
- Tempest - A horizontal slash produces a short lived super-cooled maelstrom along the arc of the slash extending out about 3 meter.
- Grimorie
- Ice Shard - Launches a dagger sized spike of ice at roughly the same speed as an arrow. Can pierce most soft armours.
- Ice Storm - A short range stream of super-cooled air.
- Reaver - Strips moisture from a 1 meter area of effect.
- Water Whip - Forms a tendril out of a pre-existing water source, which can be used to attack/manipulate the environment.
Other Information
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
Sanity43217
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Name: Glyndan Fireshoot
Race: Wood Elf
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Appearance:
Bio: Glyndan Fireshoot, of the northern Fireshoot clan, was born to a long line of mages. His childhood was an interesting one. Being raised by powerful magic users was bound to cause its own dramas. Several things were different from ordinary childhood. For one, instead of being grounded, he was banished to the Astral Plane. Another is that he was forced to solve most things with magic, with nearly every birthday being celebrated by a new magical artefact to nudge him along to be a high mage. The main competition came from his brother though. A few years younger than Glyndan. Glyndan's brother showed more desire to be a high mage.
When Glyndan was 40, his Father, the old High Mage, fell ill. He tried to use a spell that was too powerful for him. A small crack appeared on his soul stone, and he started dying. Over three years, Glyndan's father came closer and closer to death, until he died. Glyndan was told to take up the duties of High Mage but passed it on to his brother. Glyndan wished a life of adventure instead of being locked in a tree fort for the rest of his life. So, Glyndan worked on a Grimoire, made a few wands and staves. Then set off for a life of adventure.
He spent around five years travelling, learning to appreciated humans and the other races. Learning to use his magic and artefacts in new and better ways. He finally heard of the Bloodrose Irregulars sixteen years ago. So, Glyndan joined up with them. He never really got close to anyone in the company, but felt like he should. He often opted to do things alone but is starting to feel like he should start letting others in. To start working with others. To get to know the men and women who have fought by his side the last sixteen years.
Fighting Style: Very flashy, and heavily focused on magic and showmanship.
Equipment:
Rings of feather falling were crafted with an intricate feather pattern around the whole ring. Although not required for their construction, the rings were often decorated with malachite, because common folk believed (erroneously) that the stone had gravitational intervention powers.
The Ring allows the wearer to slow their rate of descent when falling. When the wearer falls more than five feet suddenly, their decent slows to that of a feather. Hence the name and design. Glyndan wears his on his left middle finger.
(Wind Magic)
Every ten minutes, the ring of regeneration emitted a burst of recuperative magic, restoring part of the health of its attuned wearer. It was also capable of regenerating lost limbs, in a process that took a few days.
Glyndan wears his on his right ring finger.
(Life Magic)
The exact use of the Celestial Chest is unknown, as many of the mechanisms within it have yet to be activated. It is some form of puzzle, that Glyndan has not been able to solve. He received it as a parting gift when he started his life of adventure, and the only thing he has figured out is that it can trap non-corporeal entities within it. He often leaves it at the Bloodrose Headquarters.
(Arcane Magic)
Glyndan's Grimoire. It not only contains the spells he knows but is also enchanted to protect it from wear and tear, as well as people trying to steal his spells.
(Arcane Magic)
This wand is imbued with a spell known only as Rot. It emits a purple bolt that causes things to decay.
(Death Magic)
This wand is imbued with a spell that causes plants to grow from where the green bolt struck. Is the target was already a lant, then the existing plant would grow bigger, but if no plant was present, a random plant would grow.
(Nature/Life Magic)
Skills/Abilities:
Other Information:
Race: Wood Elf
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Appearance:
Bio: Glyndan Fireshoot, of the northern Fireshoot clan, was born to a long line of mages. His childhood was an interesting one. Being raised by powerful magic users was bound to cause its own dramas. Several things were different from ordinary childhood. For one, instead of being grounded, he was banished to the Astral Plane. Another is that he was forced to solve most things with magic, with nearly every birthday being celebrated by a new magical artefact to nudge him along to be a high mage. The main competition came from his brother though. A few years younger than Glyndan. Glyndan's brother showed more desire to be a high mage.
When Glyndan was 40, his Father, the old High Mage, fell ill. He tried to use a spell that was too powerful for him. A small crack appeared on his soul stone, and he started dying. Over three years, Glyndan's father came closer and closer to death, until he died. Glyndan was told to take up the duties of High Mage but passed it on to his brother. Glyndan wished a life of adventure instead of being locked in a tree fort for the rest of his life. So, Glyndan worked on a Grimoire, made a few wands and staves. Then set off for a life of adventure.
He spent around five years travelling, learning to appreciated humans and the other races. Learning to use his magic and artefacts in new and better ways. He finally heard of the Bloodrose Irregulars sixteen years ago. So, Glyndan joined up with them. He never really got close to anyone in the company, but felt like he should. He often opted to do things alone but is starting to feel like he should start letting others in. To start working with others. To get to know the men and women who have fought by his side the last sixteen years.
Fighting Style: Very flashy, and heavily focused on magic and showmanship.
Equipment:
Rings of feather falling were crafted with an intricate feather pattern around the whole ring. Although not required for their construction, the rings were often decorated with malachite, because common folk believed (erroneously) that the stone had gravitational intervention powers.
The Ring allows the wearer to slow their rate of descent when falling. When the wearer falls more than five feet suddenly, their decent slows to that of a feather. Hence the name and design. Glyndan wears his on his left middle finger.
(Wind Magic)
Every ten minutes, the ring of regeneration emitted a burst of recuperative magic, restoring part of the health of its attuned wearer. It was also capable of regenerating lost limbs, in a process that took a few days.
Glyndan wears his on his right ring finger.
(Life Magic)
The exact use of the Celestial Chest is unknown, as many of the mechanisms within it have yet to be activated. It is some form of puzzle, that Glyndan has not been able to solve. He received it as a parting gift when he started his life of adventure, and the only thing he has figured out is that it can trap non-corporeal entities within it. He often leaves it at the Bloodrose Headquarters.
(Arcane Magic)
Glyndan's Grimoire. It not only contains the spells he knows but is also enchanted to protect it from wear and tear, as well as people trying to steal his spells.
(Arcane Magic)
This wand is imbued with a spell known only as Rot. It emits a purple bolt that causes things to decay.
(Death Magic)
This wand is imbued with a spell that causes plants to grow from where the green bolt struck. Is the target was already a lant, then the existing plant would grow bigger, but if no plant was present, a random plant would grow.
(Nature/Life Magic)
Skills/Abilities:
By lighting an ordinary candle, and muttering an incantation, the caster gains incredible reading abilities while the candle burns. For the duration of the spell, Glyndan gains the ability to read non-magical texts at a rate of 50 pages per minute and have a perfect recollection of any information gained during the spell's duration.
(Arcane Magic)
(Arcane Magic)
The spell transmutes three pages within the grimoire, that are transcribed with this spell, in a way that detaches them from the book. The pages gain razor sharp edges and fly to cut a target. After slicing the target, they return to the grimoire where they reattach.
(Arcane Magic)
(Arcane Magic)
By waving his hand, and saying the executioner's prayer, Two ethereal chains bind the victim and pull them to the ground, where a blade appears above their head. The blade rises slowly, and if the victim does not escape in time, the blade falls down and decapitates the victim.
(Arcane Magic)
(Arcane Magic)
The Eldritch Weave is mystical energy that Glyndan can manipulate. It is orange in colour, and it manifests physically in a way similar to Dr Strange in the Cinematic universe. Effectively letting Glyndan constructs and bolts out of this arcane energy.
(Arcane Magic)
(Arcane Magic)
The spell allows Glyndan to summon a mystical throwing glaive that he can control via mental commands. The Glaive can be used as a focus for other spells. Most notable raining down eldritch blasts from above.
(Arcane Magic)
(Arcane Magic)
Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the O
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the O
Milim Independent Puppet
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Name
Eris Loviat
Race
Human
Gender
Female
Age
17
Eris possesses ghostly pale clear skin to the point where she looks almost doll-like. Her build is extremely slender and petite, and her eyes are an unusual mix of a bright yellow iris with a thick black limbal ring that makes her gaze far more intimidating than it should be from someone of her stature. She stands at around 5'1 on a good day, but this is brought up an inch or so with heels. She's almost always seen in the outfit in the picture or something similar given that her fashion taste is what her grandmother made for her. Often times she's mistaken to be much younger than she is due to her stature and short height.
Biography
Eris has no memory of her parents. Her father had been a knight who had perished to an illness months after her birth, and her mother was so grief-stricken by the event that she had committed suicide. The succession of the child that had been named "Eris" by her father was a hot one among her province. Some of her uncles and aunts wanted to take her in to use as a bargaining chip, some of her more distant relatives wanted to marry her to their sons to inherit the large fortune of her family. However, her grandmother was the one who took her in despite initial hesitation given that she'd feel guilt until her death if she let them get their hands on her.
She came from a noble house with a large amount of money, and this was used in her upbringing. Her grandmother was old and frail, and whilst she tried to spend as much time with her granddaughter as she could, her body could not keep up and a vast amount of different tutors and the like were spent on educating this girl. Every option was available to her, but she seemed to find solace in things that were considered boring or dull by other children her age. She enjoyed tailor-ship as it allowed her time with her grandmother, and she enjoyed reading. Physical activities were not to her interest, and she found little fun in keeping company with other children. She became something of a loner in her childhood, a shut in who preferred to lose herself to novels and her studies rather than engaging in court activities or physicality. Her time spent around books made her weird - she began to take on strange speech patterns and became increasingly morbid.
However, the girls life took a turn when her aptitude for magic was discovered. It was far beyond anyone's expectations and she learned extremely quickly, partially because of the massive interest she had taken in it. She learned at a pace not really seen before by any other mage - to say she was a prodigy would be an understatement. Other schools of combat she was completely unsuccessful at aside from the extreme basics, but her ability far surpassed anyone else's at her age in this field.
Years passed and her progress continued. Her curiosity had overtaken her innate disinterest in people and she began learning about the world from real experience rather than what she'd read in books. The beauty of the world unveiled itself to her as she began to spend more and more time exploring her families vast estate and the forests within. It was at this time where she knew that she had to explore the world and the various things within it, to see what the books had told her about and experience the same stories that her grandmother told her.
Around the age of 16 and a half, Eris' grandmother became extremely ill. She no longer had the ability to care for the girl and organise tutoring or the like for her without grave cost to her health. She noted the girls immense magical potential, a willingness to explore and a requirement that she had to grow up to become the next head of the family. With her last wish to her granddaughter before she condemned herself to her bed, she inquired upon an old friend for a favour. She'd hired the Irregulars for tasks before, and she figured she could leverage their friendship to take in her granddaughter. She was a girl who preferred to listen rather than talk, and she also had skill in the field of battle. What was there to lose by taking her under their wing?
She was hesitant to join at first but the prospect of adventure and making her grandmother happy won her over. The girls past few months at the company had been eventful. She'd learned a lot from the magicians who worked there, and even managed to make a few friendships. She affectionately gave out nicknames to the guild mates and gave them gifts every time she wanted to ask something which made her well liked among the majority of the company. However, her thirst for adventure hadn't been sated and she craved a real challenge - one that would put the skills she'd been acquiring to the test.
Fighting Style
Dark Mage. She doesn't fight from a distance but uses her large amount of re-positioning and defensive spells to keep her safe whilst she launches her assault.
Equipment
- Eris' Grimoire "Ruin" - Surprisingly filled with spells for a girl her age, though it would be expected of someone of her talent level. It's rather distinct to a lot of other grimoires as it's quite small in size and easy to hold with one hand, though that's how Eris prefers it.
- Clothing - Eris holds a few different dresses that were made for her by her grandmother, but she only tends to keep 2 on her. They fold easy, are much lighter than their frilly appearance looks and are quite durable. They definitely give off the aura of a rich girl.
- Strange Necklace - A necklace that has been passed down by the side of her family who has god's blood. An interesting cross shape that shines brightly and never gets dirty. Eris wants to figure out the meaning of the shape and the properties it holds, but her investigation has been fruitless so far
- Needles + String - Eris always carries around needles and string with her to repair any damaged clothing and also as a form of last ditch defence/form of utility. She's very accurate when throwing needles.
- Money - Eris always carries a decent sum of money with her, as her grandmother had told her to. Whilst she doesn't carry too much of the family fortune, she's not struggling any time she needs to buy new equipment or make a transaction.
- Writing tools - Eris always keeps a tool to write with. She likes writing a recall of her journey and she also likes writing letters to her grandmother.
- End - A thin stiletto made of pitch black steel. It's hard to spot at night time and she almost always keeps it hidden where it isn't visible as a secret weapon. The guard has an extremely ornate guard to it
Skills/Abilities
- Enhanced Physical Ability - For a girl as frail as she looks, Eris actually has quite good physical conditioning mostly stemming from her gods blood given as she puts next to no effort into it. She's quite strong and can take far more hits than she should be able to, but she tires easily from physical tasks that are too strenuous. Whilst she is strong however, she holds absolutely zero combat ability to the point where she can't even throw a punch correctly.
- Tailor - Eris is extremely skilled at making and repairing clothes + sewing, as sort of a hand-me-down from her grandmother. She rather enjoys making clothes for those she thinks would be cute in them.
"Ruin"
Eris' Grimoire. She uses this as the conduit for all of her spellcasting. It's pitch black on the exterior. Her magic type is Dark.
- Hate Spike - A concentrated spike of dark energy that rises from a shadows position. Activates through a command of snapping her finger. She must have either touched the shadow or the shadow has to belong to her to be able to cast this ability.
- Ruinblade - A thin horizontal blade of dark energy casted at high speeds. Cast command is through waving her arm.
- Abyss - Creates a large region of shadow on the ground in front of Eris.
- Split - Allows Eris to leave her shadow at a single position, and swap back to its location when re-casted. Has a limited effective range.
- Charades - Eris makes a shadow of a creature and brings it to life. The closer the accuracy of the charade, the more powerful and more durable the creature.
- Lord of Shades - Eris steals the shadow(s) of her opponent(s) and turns it on them. The shadow holds the same physical capabilities as the original, but it is mindless and unable to replicate magic or fighting technique. Only works on up to 2 foes in its current state.
- Puppet Strings - Creates a strong string material either coming from a shadow or herself in which she can attach it to something. It is at least as strong as steel, and not easily broken yet slow moving. If attached to an unconscious, dead or non-living being, Eris can
manipulate them as if they're alive - Nero - Eris summons a large shadow-golem puppet, around 7ft tall with long arms albeit thin. It is chained to the ground but extremely durable and quick moving in its area of effect. Primarily a defensive spell. Affectionately named after a deceased family pet from her childhood.
- Endbringer - Eris' most powerful offensive spell. A collective ball of dark energy is built up over a period of time and fired at a target. Once it reaches a destination, it explodes in a radius dealing massive damage and restricting vision in the area based on the amount of energy built up. Mostly used as an execution move due to the ease in which it can be dodged.
- Oblivion - Eris creates two arms made of shadow that are both around the same size as her. The way in which she moves her own hands is the way in which these ones move. The darker it is, the more powerful these appendages are.
Other Information: Although she is classified as human, she holds direct blood ties to a God. As to what god, she's unaware but she's researching and trying to figure out what secrets her ancestry holds. Her abilities and physical attributes are boosted slightly due to this but the blood relation is extremely diluted due to hundreds of years passing since the age of the gods, and the less common attributes brought by this ancestry bring her more attention than she'd like.
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
Name: Selova Ajes 'the Yellow Wolf'
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Appearance: Selova is a young but tall girl, with long golden hair that is tied to a braid. Her pale skin makes her dark grey eyes distinctive. She often wears her riding cloak and seen on a horseback. And she has countless calluses along her forearms from the use of her weapon.
Bio:
Selovia was born as the eldest daughter of a local lord. From young she was trained as a squire and trained in the way of her sword. As a noble, Selovia had been leading a rather easy and comfortable life. She was not good in her studies, but she had been more keen interest in her swordplay. She had learnt magic, but had barely scraped past the theory concepts. As the eldest of the 3 children of the Local lord he had spent more time looking after her two siblings. Her younger sister is the one that she often gets along with.
Her younger sister was a more patient as compared to her teachers, and managed to get learning on the concept of magic. That was until her father passed away from an sudden illness.
She was left to her own after her dad's passing, and there was a dispute regarding the succession of her father’s title. But that would mean her abandoning her dreams of being raised to a Knight, and the worst of all, putting down her sword that she had swung for her whole life. After a couple of weeks of deliberations, she decided to let her younger sister succeed the title instead.
But that had also made her lose her edge on her sword. The family crest had always made her remind of her own family. She picked up the spear instead, upon joining the Bloodrose Irregulars as a mercenary. Despite the fact that she would have to throw away her title as a high lady, she felt that it was more worth than to be stuck in a room with administrative duties.
For her two years as a mercenary, Selova became known as the Yellow Wolf. Dedicated at her job, but known to be impatient and rash at times.
Fighting Style
Lady Ajes uses her spear mainly when it comes to fighting. She often uses magic together with her spear, and the lightning from the spear gave her the nickname the Yellow Wolf. Her style resembles more of a sword than a spear.
Equipment: Relic Spear – A relic spear that allows her to extend the spear range with her lightning magic.
Skills/Abilities: Lightning Lance – A shot of lightning that extrudes from the tip of her Relic Spear, it’s the only technique of magic that Selovia knows how to use, being poorly versed in this field.
Selova is also good at taming horses, having to tend horses as a child.
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Appearance: Selova is a young but tall girl, with long golden hair that is tied to a braid. Her pale skin makes her dark grey eyes distinctive. She often wears her riding cloak and seen on a horseback. And she has countless calluses along her forearms from the use of her weapon.
Bio:
Selovia was born as the eldest daughter of a local lord. From young she was trained as a squire and trained in the way of her sword. As a noble, Selovia had been leading a rather easy and comfortable life. She was not good in her studies, but she had been more keen interest in her swordplay. She had learnt magic, but had barely scraped past the theory concepts. As the eldest of the 3 children of the Local lord he had spent more time looking after her two siblings. Her younger sister is the one that she often gets along with.
Her younger sister was a more patient as compared to her teachers, and managed to get learning on the concept of magic. That was until her father passed away from an sudden illness.
She was left to her own after her dad's passing, and there was a dispute regarding the succession of her father’s title. But that would mean her abandoning her dreams of being raised to a Knight, and the worst of all, putting down her sword that she had swung for her whole life. After a couple of weeks of deliberations, she decided to let her younger sister succeed the title instead.
But that had also made her lose her edge on her sword. The family crest had always made her remind of her own family. She picked up the spear instead, upon joining the Bloodrose Irregulars as a mercenary. Despite the fact that she would have to throw away her title as a high lady, she felt that it was more worth than to be stuck in a room with administrative duties.
For her two years as a mercenary, Selova became known as the Yellow Wolf. Dedicated at her job, but known to be impatient and rash at times.
Fighting Style
Lady Ajes uses her spear mainly when it comes to fighting. She often uses magic together with her spear, and the lightning from the spear gave her the nickname the Yellow Wolf. Her style resembles more of a sword than a spear.
Equipment: Relic Spear – A relic spear that allows her to extend the spear range with her lightning magic.
Skills/Abilities: Lightning Lance – A shot of lightning that extrudes from the tip of her Relic Spear, it’s the only technique of magic that Selovia knows how to use, being poorly versed in this field.
Selova is also good at taming horses, having to tend horses as a child.
-=Rules=-
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
EvictedElement The Bohemian Viking
Member
Seen
3 yrs ago
This post was made in error.
EvictedElement The Bohemian Viking
Member
Seen
3 yrs ago
Name: Ashdane/”Ash"
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Appearance: Ash stands at approximately 5'8" (173cm) with brown hair cut short on the back and sides, the length on top pulled into a tail. Soft brown eyes that lighten to an amber color in sunlight and a skin tone carrying a light tan with it. His body appears athletic with the baggy white clothes and his leather armor, but beneath them Ash is lean and toned, befitting a person who prefers dexterity and agility over strength and hardiness. His face is largely angular, having a narrow jawline and high cheekbones with a face that often appears to be scowling when at rest. The choice of a baggy white shirt and pair of pants allows for breathable attire when his thick leather armor is finally removed at the end of a long day or mission. Even relaxed Ashdane remains tense and wired, though. A nervous disposition and eyes that often dart around his surroundings with subtle bags beneath give this man a dangerous, paranoid look that can easily set others on edge.
The man in the modern day, the one who rarely looks you in the eyes, whose mind is constantly running thought to thought with no end. The guy that always seems like a tightly-wound coil at all hours and whose eyes never find enough rest. He was a child at some point, too. Not all lives are so glamorous, nor are they all so dark. Ash has a past that is less storied and mysterious, more fearful and manic. Ups and downs, every life has them. One just has to work and earn those ups; bright sides and good endings don’t find the lazy, the lost, or the clueless.
Not a coin, a cloth, or a heritage in any sense to his name. Ashdane's earliest memories are of rooms of orphans, scents of sweat and body odor, and simple instructions here or there. Out at the Golden Shores, Ash ran with small-time thieving crews, earning his weight in food and clothing. There would always be someone in charge, with one idea or another. Ideas that would land other thieves in danger, detainment, or death. Ash himself would be the first to admit, he was nothing special. Pick a pocket, keep an ear out, don’t lie to the man feeding you for today. If you got a beating, you deserved it no matter what you thought. If there was a heavy purse out at the docks, you better find it, because it could be what keeps you alive and fed a little longer. Just make the crewleader happy. Ash probably went through a hundred of them in his youth. The life of a thief was what he’d known from dusk to dawn.
You needed to be aware, be ready, be playing that “what if?” game. What if that guy next to you had a knife? What if your good will with the big guy was running out? What if you got caught on the street with your hands red and it ain’t yours? Ash had an advantage in that department, though he didn’t know it. A hyperactivity disorder is a pretty nifty thing when your continued existence depended on being alert to your surroundings and the people around you. A wild imagination even moreso. Innate curiosity and deft hands make for good partners. What if he could use that? What if he was good at what he did? What if *they* knew? And, hey, how did that thing over there work?
People in crews had some tricks here and there. Some had uses for spare metal bits and pieces. Nothing big or harmful, no. If those things started showing up on the streets, marks would get scared. Targets would stop coming out with so many Soverns. Less pay, more guard patrols, and a city with too many eyes out made for bad business, both in the light and out of it. Looking back, that makes a lot of sense. More sense than a 17 year old lifelong thief on the streets had at the time. But making use of scrap was an opportunity. A good one. One that could, maybe, make you a real important guy in the crew. So what if a few people would get hurt? What if some marks started getting a little paranoid? We’d have more ourselves! That’s all that mattered. Right?
A single little contraption goes off in broad daylight. One noble young buck, with too much money in his purse and too little sense to properly hide it, gets hurt. Not dead, just a few scratches across his pretty face. Boy, those look deep. Maybe too much primer, Ash would have to change his first formula to-what if? What if that kid prattles to his daddy and makes things harder for us to steal? What if we can’t make enough to live another week? What if the guards find any of us? What if…the next one is better? What if the next one goes cleaner? It could happen.
Never got the chance. That noble boy’s scars became an example of just how bad thieving was getting. More guards! Keep a closer eye out! There’s an artificer out there leaving his dangerous toys out and targeting noblemen for coin and virtue and their lives and…what if Ash was no longer useful? What if this had made him a detriment? A marked man? That’s what came next. A wanted artificer, targeting nobles, patrolmen on the look out for any unusual mechanisms and descriptions passing through the areas his crew had frequented. They’d have to give up their hunting grounds. And that description that people were using to find the mad artificer? It matched Ash to a point. He must’ve been seen running with that purse! But his crew would hide him! He would be alright! The guards would never find out who he was and everything would be fine! Except…
What if it wasn’t? His crew didn’t stand with him. He had become a liability. A recognizable face being sought out around the Shores didn’t make for good thieving work. They had turned him in before a week had passed from the event. Now he’d spend the rest of his short days stuck in a cell. Sentenced to execution for terrorism and assault against a member of the noble class. The theft itself wasn’t even on the rap sheet! And here come the guards now! He knew the sound of metal boots and cuisses and plate mail, had run from it too often, had survived by being out of sight from the ones who make it. The cell offered no such cover or methods of concealment. He’d been left out to dry by his crew. The cell, the sentence, the damned cuffs chafing his wrists! If he hadn’t started to trust in this crew, for once, none of this would have happened!
But the man on the other side of the cell door wasn’t the bailiff. He wasn’t the executioner, either. So who was he? This older fellow, he wore no uniform, no guardsman armor, but he had a crest on his doublet. Ash didn’t recognize it. Was this man another noble? Why’s he got a guardsman with him? How important is he? And then he spoke.
“A thief off the streets, playing with toys and surviving by the skin of your teeth. Hardly a terrorist. Come here, boy, let me get a good look at you.” Ash didn’t question the man, but he had a few for him. This mysterious old coot looked him up and down, and watched Ash's eyes closely. To his credit, life on the streets had taught Ash a few things; such as when he was being analyzed in more ways than one. The boy didn’t look this man in his eyes. He diverted his gaze to the left or right, or down to the floor, all the while keeping the old man in his periphery and looking him over as well.
The old man grinned, Ash didn’t know if that was good. “You’d be useful. Plenty of potential in you, yet.” He turned to the guardsman beside him. “Tell your captain I've got a favor. This boy comes with me. Make haste, and be discreet!” The guard looked a mix of surprise and worry as he scampered off, leaving Ash alone with this enigmatic fellow. “You already know what you did wrong with that device that landed you here, yes? Too much primer, too much OOMPH and hurt the boy you were trying to scare. Would’ve worked, if not for that.” The voice of experience, Ash would have guessed.
Ash was released into the old man's custody. The captain had indeed owed him a favor, the nature of which Ash could only guess. As it turned out, the geezer was the commander of a mercenary company, one with rather loose relationship with the law. Ash's previous life was put to the axe (or had it been the gallows?), a replacement made from another unlucky criminal in order to sate the noble he'd scarred. From here on, he would be Ashdane of the Wayward Wolves; the name was a symbol of the company he now belonged to.
Errol was the name of the man who’d taken him, and he himself had been an urchin before. While maintaining ties with the underground, Errol used his ties mainly as a way to get jobs for his mercenary business. Each and every member had been a “rescue" in one form or another, be they a previous convict, or a person trying to better their lot in life. He was a firm, fair, and consistent individual, and over time Ashdane began to see him as a true father. It was through no fault of Errol's own that Ash had trouble trusting and being at ease in the company. A lifestyle of thieving would carve its nature into a person’s bones. His mind stayed racing, he would often flinch in the presence of his comrades, and looking a person in the eye was very difficult for him. Always, Ashdane looked through a person rather than at them, because surely if they weren’t a threat, something or someone nearby was.
Despite his issues, Ashdane would spend the next several years of his life with the Wolves. Errol was as much a leader as he was a teacher, and he was often honest with his men about the contracts they fulfilled to make their living. Even Ash, who hadn’t had an education or an opportunity in his life, was not left out of this process. He was an illiterate teen on the cusp of adulthood, and he knew nothing more than surviving on the streets. And yet, he took to it like a fish to water. Being able to clearly define what was needed to fulfill a contract seemed like a simple expansion to having an objective back as a kid. Pick a pocket, cause some ruckus, kill a monster. Perhaps it wasn’t so simple, now that he could read the once-nonsensical scribble (not that contracts were a large part of thieving, but marks the crewleader would point out were sometimes picked by another, and Ashdane was beginning to figure out how), but it gave a greater degree of certainty in what form of action to take.
By the time he was a man grown, Ashdane could read, write, negotiate, and make a more proper little trap than the one that had landed him in prison. The last of these were taught by Errol directly. He was an old hand at the skill, and took great interest in what few pupils the Wolves could scrounge together. Ash learned and memorized numerous blueprints throughout his few years, and learned to always keep a few pieces of scrap on hand and a few traps ready to set. It had come in handy through a few missions, maybe that was an understatement. He could trap their campsites to provide defenses while his squad slept, could set a stage for a fight that would go heavily in the Wolves' favor, or even detonate directional shrapnel bombs mid-melee. A thief, even one no longer a thief, had to be pragmatic. It was only natural that a tool should be used against something that wanted you dead.
The Wayward Wolves had molded the once-thief into a proper mercenary. And mercenaries knew how to survive. Being one didn’t necessarily mean that you were invincible, or that you were immune to age and decay. Errol’s death is one such example of this. He had been both outlaw and merc. Had taught so many so much. He had been a paternal figure in the lives of many of its members. But all these accomplishments did not make one immortal, it just meant that he passed away surrounded by family. Pride in his pack flushed through his chest until the light finally left his eyes. Ash had been taught another thing in Errol's passing: the pain of losing a beloved parent. This experience, he learned at the age of 26.
The Wayward Wolves dissolved without a leader, unable to elect another. Ashdane's squadmates went their separate ways, either continuing their mercenary lifestyle in another company, or becoming contacts in the underworld for one another. His family all but gone, and reeling from the loss, Ashdane was among those who continued as a free mercenary.
Not a coin, a cloth, or a heritage in any sense to his name. Ashdane's earliest memories are of rooms of orphans, scents of sweat and body odor, and simple instructions here or there. Out at the Golden Shores, Ash ran with small-time thieving crews, earning his weight in food and clothing. There would always be someone in charge, with one idea or another. Ideas that would land other thieves in danger, detainment, or death. Ash himself would be the first to admit, he was nothing special. Pick a pocket, keep an ear out, don’t lie to the man feeding you for today. If you got a beating, you deserved it no matter what you thought. If there was a heavy purse out at the docks, you better find it, because it could be what keeps you alive and fed a little longer. Just make the crewleader happy. Ash probably went through a hundred of them in his youth. The life of a thief was what he’d known from dusk to dawn.
You needed to be aware, be ready, be playing that “what if?” game. What if that guy next to you had a knife? What if your good will with the big guy was running out? What if you got caught on the street with your hands red and it ain’t yours? Ash had an advantage in that department, though he didn’t know it. A hyperactivity disorder is a pretty nifty thing when your continued existence depended on being alert to your surroundings and the people around you. A wild imagination even moreso. Innate curiosity and deft hands make for good partners. What if he could use that? What if he was good at what he did? What if *they* knew? And, hey, how did that thing over there work?
People in crews had some tricks here and there. Some had uses for spare metal bits and pieces. Nothing big or harmful, no. If those things started showing up on the streets, marks would get scared. Targets would stop coming out with so many Soverns. Less pay, more guard patrols, and a city with too many eyes out made for bad business, both in the light and out of it. Looking back, that makes a lot of sense. More sense than a 17 year old lifelong thief on the streets had at the time. But making use of scrap was an opportunity. A good one. One that could, maybe, make you a real important guy in the crew. So what if a few people would get hurt? What if some marks started getting a little paranoid? We’d have more ourselves! That’s all that mattered. Right?
A single little contraption goes off in broad daylight. One noble young buck, with too much money in his purse and too little sense to properly hide it, gets hurt. Not dead, just a few scratches across his pretty face. Boy, those look deep. Maybe too much primer, Ash would have to change his first formula to-what if? What if that kid prattles to his daddy and makes things harder for us to steal? What if we can’t make enough to live another week? What if the guards find any of us? What if…the next one is better? What if the next one goes cleaner? It could happen.
Never got the chance. That noble boy’s scars became an example of just how bad thieving was getting. More guards! Keep a closer eye out! There’s an artificer out there leaving his dangerous toys out and targeting noblemen for coin and virtue and their lives and…what if Ash was no longer useful? What if this had made him a detriment? A marked man? That’s what came next. A wanted artificer, targeting nobles, patrolmen on the look out for any unusual mechanisms and descriptions passing through the areas his crew had frequented. They’d have to give up their hunting grounds. And that description that people were using to find the mad artificer? It matched Ash to a point. He must’ve been seen running with that purse! But his crew would hide him! He would be alright! The guards would never find out who he was and everything would be fine! Except…
What if it wasn’t? His crew didn’t stand with him. He had become a liability. A recognizable face being sought out around the Shores didn’t make for good thieving work. They had turned him in before a week had passed from the event. Now he’d spend the rest of his short days stuck in a cell. Sentenced to execution for terrorism and assault against a member of the noble class. The theft itself wasn’t even on the rap sheet! And here come the guards now! He knew the sound of metal boots and cuisses and plate mail, had run from it too often, had survived by being out of sight from the ones who make it. The cell offered no such cover or methods of concealment. He’d been left out to dry by his crew. The cell, the sentence, the damned cuffs chafing his wrists! If he hadn’t started to trust in this crew, for once, none of this would have happened!
But the man on the other side of the cell door wasn’t the bailiff. He wasn’t the executioner, either. So who was he? This older fellow, he wore no uniform, no guardsman armor, but he had a crest on his doublet. Ash didn’t recognize it. Was this man another noble? Why’s he got a guardsman with him? How important is he? And then he spoke.
“A thief off the streets, playing with toys and surviving by the skin of your teeth. Hardly a terrorist. Come here, boy, let me get a good look at you.” Ash didn’t question the man, but he had a few for him. This mysterious old coot looked him up and down, and watched Ash's eyes closely. To his credit, life on the streets had taught Ash a few things; such as when he was being analyzed in more ways than one. The boy didn’t look this man in his eyes. He diverted his gaze to the left or right, or down to the floor, all the while keeping the old man in his periphery and looking him over as well.
The old man grinned, Ash didn’t know if that was good. “You’d be useful. Plenty of potential in you, yet.” He turned to the guardsman beside him. “Tell your captain I've got a favor. This boy comes with me. Make haste, and be discreet!” The guard looked a mix of surprise and worry as he scampered off, leaving Ash alone with this enigmatic fellow. “You already know what you did wrong with that device that landed you here, yes? Too much primer, too much OOMPH and hurt the boy you were trying to scare. Would’ve worked, if not for that.” The voice of experience, Ash would have guessed.
Ash was released into the old man's custody. The captain had indeed owed him a favor, the nature of which Ash could only guess. As it turned out, the geezer was the commander of a mercenary company, one with rather loose relationship with the law. Ash's previous life was put to the axe (or had it been the gallows?), a replacement made from another unlucky criminal in order to sate the noble he'd scarred. From here on, he would be Ashdane of the Wayward Wolves; the name was a symbol of the company he now belonged to.
Errol was the name of the man who’d taken him, and he himself had been an urchin before. While maintaining ties with the underground, Errol used his ties mainly as a way to get jobs for his mercenary business. Each and every member had been a “rescue" in one form or another, be they a previous convict, or a person trying to better their lot in life. He was a firm, fair, and consistent individual, and over time Ashdane began to see him as a true father. It was through no fault of Errol's own that Ash had trouble trusting and being at ease in the company. A lifestyle of thieving would carve its nature into a person’s bones. His mind stayed racing, he would often flinch in the presence of his comrades, and looking a person in the eye was very difficult for him. Always, Ashdane looked through a person rather than at them, because surely if they weren’t a threat, something or someone nearby was.
Despite his issues, Ashdane would spend the next several years of his life with the Wolves. Errol was as much a leader as he was a teacher, and he was often honest with his men about the contracts they fulfilled to make their living. Even Ash, who hadn’t had an education or an opportunity in his life, was not left out of this process. He was an illiterate teen on the cusp of adulthood, and he knew nothing more than surviving on the streets. And yet, he took to it like a fish to water. Being able to clearly define what was needed to fulfill a contract seemed like a simple expansion to having an objective back as a kid. Pick a pocket, cause some ruckus, kill a monster. Perhaps it wasn’t so simple, now that he could read the once-nonsensical scribble (not that contracts were a large part of thieving, but marks the crewleader would point out were sometimes picked by another, and Ashdane was beginning to figure out how), but it gave a greater degree of certainty in what form of action to take.
By the time he was a man grown, Ashdane could read, write, negotiate, and make a more proper little trap than the one that had landed him in prison. The last of these were taught by Errol directly. He was an old hand at the skill, and took great interest in what few pupils the Wolves could scrounge together. Ash learned and memorized numerous blueprints throughout his few years, and learned to always keep a few pieces of scrap on hand and a few traps ready to set. It had come in handy through a few missions, maybe that was an understatement. He could trap their campsites to provide defenses while his squad slept, could set a stage for a fight that would go heavily in the Wolves' favor, or even detonate directional shrapnel bombs mid-melee. A thief, even one no longer a thief, had to be pragmatic. It was only natural that a tool should be used against something that wanted you dead.
The Wayward Wolves had molded the once-thief into a proper mercenary. And mercenaries knew how to survive. Being one didn’t necessarily mean that you were invincible, or that you were immune to age and decay. Errol’s death is one such example of this. He had been both outlaw and merc. Had taught so many so much. He had been a paternal figure in the lives of many of its members. But all these accomplishments did not make one immortal, it just meant that he passed away surrounded by family. Pride in his pack flushed through his chest until the light finally left his eyes. Ash had been taught another thing in Errol's passing: the pain of losing a beloved parent. This experience, he learned at the age of 26.
The Wayward Wolves dissolved without a leader, unable to elect another. Ashdane's squadmates went their separate ways, either continuing their mercenary lifestyle in another company, or becoming contacts in the underworld for one another. His family all but gone, and reeling from the loss, Ashdane was among those who continued as a free mercenary.
Fighting Style: “Artificianado.” A joking name a comrade from the Wayward Wolves once used to describe Ashdane's methods. Naturally, Ashdane ran with it. This style consists of a mix of swordplay, throwing knives, and artificer gadgets such as shrapnel bombs, razor wire traps, and more. When dealing with direct confrontation, evasion is a high priority and countering with quick strikes or a gadget when opportunities present themselves.
Equipment:
-Two spathas in scabbards across the back. While initially intended to be used in a dual-wielding stance, Ashdane usually uses one at a time and keeps his off-hand empty to utilize his throwing knives or gadgets.
-Studded leather armor meticulously cared for and modified heavily from his time in the Wolves. Thick armor around most of the body, leaving only the head, arms, and legs exposed for maneuverability.
-Three throwing knives located at the right hip. Reliable, sturdy, and retrievable.
-Leather toolbag typically situated on the left hip, filled with artificing tools along with metal and leather field care items, such as oils and whetstones. A separate pocket contains some extra scrap metal bits for use in field-crafting extra shrapnel bombs or replacement gadget bits. Ashdane will normally drop this bag using a quick release strap before engaging enemies as it can be cumbersome.
-Shrapnel bombs are small clusters of junk metal set into a metal base with just enough primer to launch the pieces at a respectable level of force capable of embedding and cutting flesh at a radius of 5 feet in a full circle. With slight modifications, and angling the base, Ashdane can give better aim and reach to the shrapnel, giving his teammates a better chance of not getting sliced and delivering more focused blasts to his foes. Bombs are primed by removing a small plug that acts as a brake for a dial on the underside of the base in place and twisting it 15 or more degrees clockwise, the bomb then detonates between 2 and 3 seconds later. Keeps 2 bombs on his person at the start of every mission.
-Spring razor wire traps are set into a tightly-wound cylindrical coil set into a cylindrical pillar that is hollow at the bottom, where it connects to the metal base. The hollow space is filled with enough primer to launch the pillar upwards roughly 4 feet, where it separates from the inside brake and the coil untwists at a rapid speed, flinging 3 strings of razor wire outwards in a 4 foot radius and dealing numerous cuts to those unlucky enough to stand in reach until the coil is at rest. These traps are primed similarly to the shrapnel bomb, having a dial at the underside of the base. Like the shrapnel bomb, the dial has a plug that acts as a brake for the device in order to prevent it from going off prematurely. The dial is turned counterclockwise by 45 degrees and plugged loosely so that most light vibrations through a nearby surface will release the plug and the dial will set the primer off. As a result, the spring razor makes for a good perimeter mine and alarm system. These traps are also made to be reusable, so long as more primer material is at hand and the base of the cylindrical pillar isn't too damaged to contain it. 4 of these are carried at the start of every mission.
Skills/Abilities:
-A skilled artificer, Ashdane can craft gadgets and traps from small metal pieces for use in combat and battlefield control.
-With his past as a street urchin, Ashdane is an accomplished pickpocket, eavesdropper, and adept at walking quietly without being noticed.
Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
Name: Markus Reus
Race: Demi-Human
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Appearance:
Bio: Born in Dragon's Maw and raised in a military family with a dad as an known army general from Glaurungs army and a mom as an army secretary. Markus has been raised with a lot of discipline, which he didn't care about too much, which his parents hated him for. Forced to go into the military to become a soldier and climb the ranks, as his dad did. Instead he became a known troublemaker in the military ranks, not following orders, pulling pranks and never being on time.
Eventually he went out of bounds as he got in another fight with another soldier, this time wounding his opponent heavily. Markus got officially kicked out of the army by his own dad, out of shame, as he stated. The only option left was to go in the military band, where learned to play the drums as he had no discipline and patience for any other instruments. Playing weekly with the marching band in different parts of the country, this life seemed to suit Markus a lot better. Music, drinking and girls was more his style, after years he decided to quit when he learned to know an Elf girl, Celeste, a singer in particular.
He met her at a tavern when she was singing with her band on a festive night, he fell in love. Markus joined the band as they still lacked a drummer, as if it was meant to be. He only had one more goal left, just to impress Celeste, he remembered there was a beautiful war drum on the wall at his parents home. When he came back to visit his parents he quickly took it from the wall when his parents weren't looking and ran away, to be never seen again by his parents, as he still was convinced they hated him but did not show it.
On a beautiful summer night, he is planning to show off his new drum to her and his skills on which he trained hard. He told her to come to an open field at midnight, where he will show her the war drum. But drama occurs and some bandits found her alone and when he arrived, all he saw was the bandits and her dead body on the ground. Out of rage he hits the drum with all his might, making the runic signs on the drum glow up, creating a big shock wave killing the closest bandits standing by instantly. The remaining ones get knocked over, as they try to recover, Markus throws off his drum and unsheathes his scimitar.
In a dash he's standing next to the first bandit, which is startled as the ordinary humans are often by his beastly speed. One handed he swings the scimitar from the top down on the back of his neck, cutting his head clean off and he drops to the ground. Dropping his scimitar he now throws his dagger right into the chest of the second bandit making him an easy target as his fist follows up to punch him in the face which sends him flying to the ground. Now, the third and last bandit wants to attack him with a sword, Markus blocks it with his hand. Making the sword cut deep in his hand, but he doesn't care or feel anything. He leans over, pushing the sword back against the bandits body, with tears in Markus eyes, he asks why.... but the bandit never answered as he pushed the sword deeply into his body with the point starting to penetrate his neck, he chokes and falls down to the ground as the last bandit that was standing.
A long time he has wandered around, pointlessly, without goal. He has forgotten how long it has been without Celeste, mainly drinking every day and playing lullabies on street. Sometimes he picks up some mercenary jobs, as a beast will always be wanted for the dirty jobs. This did give him the chance to discover the abilities of the drum and other have noticed them, as he now has been asked to join the Blood Rose Irregulars. As he has nothing to lose, he decided to join. He could use the money, entertainment, and challenge after all those years.
Fighting Style: Animalistic. Based on beastly power, speed and athleticism, but lacking in technique and finesse. Rather fights an Orc than an Elf. He would be no challenge for a skilled fighter, but his raw power and speed will give him a challenge.
Equipment:
Basic: A military scimitar + dagger and a padded military outfit for basic protection.
Special: A family heirloom, which is an old relic in the shape of a war drum which is made clear by the runic signs on the drum head.
Skills/Abilities:
Basic ability: As he enjoyed military training. Markus mastered the basics in fighting, but was never top of the class.
Tail: Markus can use his tail, which can be very handy in some situations.
War drum abilities [Wind element]:
Warbound: Plays the drum to inspire his party and enchant their abilities, will also intimidate the enemy, stronger/bigger enemies will be less or not intimidated by it.
Deafening: Will drum deafeningly loud towards his target, making it impossible to hear any surroundings.
Lullaby: Markus drums very softly and on a slow rythm, which relaxes the target or even possibly put it to sleep.
Shockwave: Focuses all his energy in one big hit on the drum, creating a shock wave around him. Preferably not used when there are any allies around.
Race: Demi-Human
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Appearance:
Bio: Born in Dragon's Maw and raised in a military family with a dad as an known army general from Glaurungs army and a mom as an army secretary. Markus has been raised with a lot of discipline, which he didn't care about too much, which his parents hated him for. Forced to go into the military to become a soldier and climb the ranks, as his dad did. Instead he became a known troublemaker in the military ranks, not following orders, pulling pranks and never being on time.
Eventually he went out of bounds as he got in another fight with another soldier, this time wounding his opponent heavily. Markus got officially kicked out of the army by his own dad, out of shame, as he stated. The only option left was to go in the military band, where learned to play the drums as he had no discipline and patience for any other instruments. Playing weekly with the marching band in different parts of the country, this life seemed to suit Markus a lot better. Music, drinking and girls was more his style, after years he decided to quit when he learned to know an Elf girl, Celeste, a singer in particular.
He met her at a tavern when she was singing with her band on a festive night, he fell in love. Markus joined the band as they still lacked a drummer, as if it was meant to be. He only had one more goal left, just to impress Celeste, he remembered there was a beautiful war drum on the wall at his parents home. When he came back to visit his parents he quickly took it from the wall when his parents weren't looking and ran away, to be never seen again by his parents, as he still was convinced they hated him but did not show it.
On a beautiful summer night, he is planning to show off his new drum to her and his skills on which he trained hard. He told her to come to an open field at midnight, where he will show her the war drum. But drama occurs and some bandits found her alone and when he arrived, all he saw was the bandits and her dead body on the ground. Out of rage he hits the drum with all his might, making the runic signs on the drum glow up, creating a big shock wave killing the closest bandits standing by instantly. The remaining ones get knocked over, as they try to recover, Markus throws off his drum and unsheathes his scimitar.
In a dash he's standing next to the first bandit, which is startled as the ordinary humans are often by his beastly speed. One handed he swings the scimitar from the top down on the back of his neck, cutting his head clean off and he drops to the ground. Dropping his scimitar he now throws his dagger right into the chest of the second bandit making him an easy target as his fist follows up to punch him in the face which sends him flying to the ground. Now, the third and last bandit wants to attack him with a sword, Markus blocks it with his hand. Making the sword cut deep in his hand, but he doesn't care or feel anything. He leans over, pushing the sword back against the bandits body, with tears in Markus eyes, he asks why.... but the bandit never answered as he pushed the sword deeply into his body with the point starting to penetrate his neck, he chokes and falls down to the ground as the last bandit that was standing.
A long time he has wandered around, pointlessly, without goal. He has forgotten how long it has been without Celeste, mainly drinking every day and playing lullabies on street. Sometimes he picks up some mercenary jobs, as a beast will always be wanted for the dirty jobs. This did give him the chance to discover the abilities of the drum and other have noticed them, as he now has been asked to join the Blood Rose Irregulars. As he has nothing to lose, he decided to join. He could use the money, entertainment, and challenge after all those years.
Fighting Style: Animalistic. Based on beastly power, speed and athleticism, but lacking in technique and finesse. Rather fights an Orc than an Elf. He would be no challenge for a skilled fighter, but his raw power and speed will give him a challenge.
Equipment:
Basic: A military scimitar + dagger and a padded military outfit for basic protection.
Special: A family heirloom, which is an old relic in the shape of a war drum which is made clear by the runic signs on the drum head.
Skills/Abilities:
Basic ability: As he enjoyed military training. Markus mastered the basics in fighting, but was never top of the class.
Tail: Markus can use his tail, which can be very handy in some situations.
War drum abilities [Wind element]:
Warbound: Plays the drum to inspire his party and enchant their abilities, will also intimidate the enemy, stronger/bigger enemies will be less or not intimidated by it.
Deafening: Will drum deafeningly loud towards his target, making it impossible to hear any surroundings.
Lullaby: Markus drums very softly and on a slow rythm, which relaxes the target or even possibly put it to sleep.
Shockwave: Focuses all his energy in one big hit on the drum, creating a shock wave around him. Preferably not used when there are any allies around.
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
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