O R I F L A M M E

[pantothenic]

Posting my CS in here in case it helps someone feel more comfortable with writing their own.

The Flame of Extermination

Gèrard Castello__ _ _ _ _

38 | MALE | PERRENCE | DEEP ARCANE | PRIEST__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

Gèrard is five feet nine inches tall. He has a fair skin tone and average musculature. His head is clean shaven at all times. In his calmest moments, Gèrard's face is set in a permanent grimace, but his expression can go wild in an instant. He dresses like a typical wandering Rezaindian priest.

His sole motivation is guarding the Quentic faith against the godless hordes of Eskand. For those who drop their arms and place their faith in the Pentad, he will offer leniency. To the ones that refuse, Gèrard will give them Echeran's peace in the most painful way imagineable.

Gèrard is a broken man. There is still a decent person on the inside, but that person is drowning underneath a sea of pain and loss. He has slowly begun to withdraw from the world, no longer able convey his feelings to those around him. When fighting the pagans of Eskand however, he will grow frantic to the point of madness.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

The Vauquelin departed on her maiden voyage as the first flowers of Verdi bloomed. She was bound for the eastern coast of Drudgunze. Among her passengers were various merchants, five Quentic priests, and a small party of mercenaries. The round trip was supposed to take 30 days. The vessel failed to return to harbor well after the expected date and was assumed to be lost at sea. Months passed, until one day an Eskandish longship was captured, its party having been wiped out after a coastal raid. Gèrard was one of several slaves liberated from the vessel. He was very weak after being forced to row for miles with little in the way of rest or sustenance. Gèrard was one of the priests aboard the Vauquelin, as well as the only known survivor. From him it was learned that the Vauquelin and all those aboard were captured by raiders and taken back to Eskand as plunder. However, when asked about his experiences as a slave or the condition of his fellow passengers, Gèrard continually refused to elaborate.

Gèrard spent most of his life as a normal Rezaindian priest. He once followed the way of grey, traveling to distant lands in order to conduct burial rites and commemorate the dead. He, like the other holy men and women aboard the Vauquelin, hoped to spread Quentism to the foreign cultures in the south. A terrible fate befell the ship, one that Gèrard is unwilling to speak of to this day. Whatever transpired, it caused him to annul his vows as a Grey Rezaindian and don the red cloak of a warrior monk. He sharpened his blade and refined his magic towards more violent pursuits. He believes the only way to protect the true faith is by wiping out all others, and his body count grows by the day. Gèrard's one man holy war has given him a reputation, along with the nickname "Flame of Extermination".

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

❖ An ironwood staff inlaid with a crystal sphere
❖ Several bottles of oil and other flammable mediums
❖ An inscribed steel dagger
❖ The Book of Wrath
❖ A light leather bag containing provisions

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Blood type: Truecaster
Preferred School: Arcane
Wheel rating: 4

Gèrard was once a well rounded practitioner of magic, but he now uses Arcane magic almost exclusively. Driven by a single minded thirst for revenge, he obsessively refined his art into what the history books now call "Deep Arcane". It is a path focused on pure destruction, with as many ways to destroy a person as there are scales on a Golden Kite. He is an extremely dangerous opponent to face one on one. It is recommended to engage him at night, in greater numbers, and with as much indirect fire as one can muster.

Gèrard has an intuitive understanding of the Gift that allows him to push the limits of the Arcane to the absolute peak. He manipulates heat and light equally well, and is just as likely to cremate you with a fireball as he is with a light beam. Though he tends to wield magic like a sledgehammer, he can also get quite creative with his spells. A favorite trick of his is to get close to an enemy and use internal magic to forcibly ignite their fat reserves, causing spontaneous human combustion.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ He is well traveled and familiar with many cultures.
❖ He is fairly well educated.
❖ He is fearless.
❖ He is a high ranking Rezaindian priest and can bargain for the support of local chapters.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Gèrard is an incurable pyromaniac.
❖ He sometimes can't tell the difference between an Eskandr and a Drudgunzean.
❖ His psychological injuries have negatively affected his personality.
❖ He subconsciously seeks his own demise. One day he may find it.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ He is a distant ancestor of Charles Castel, Yalen's adoptive father.
❖ F92D00

[YummyYummy]

Aheri

Arnaud "Aheri" Maobe__ _ _ _ _

44 | MALE | PARRENCE | FORCE & ESSENCE | BERSERKER__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Dauntless
A man that’s seen and fought it all, very little can surprise or intimidate Arnaud, even the most sided of odds. With this comes an air of jovial confidence towards any sort of adversity, seeing such things as potential challenges to reinforce the notion of him being the strongest but also enhance his own arsenal. He is not easily rattled or provoked, like a Rhinoceros in its peaceful habitat.

❖ Unrelenting
Whether in the battlefield or in the mundane, Arnaud doesn’t just stop. He finishes what he started, even if it takes everything from him. It is this desire to see everything to the end that he’s earned his notoriety as bloodthirsty and unstoppable. Very few have ever stopped Arnaud in his tracks, even in conversations.

❖ Deferential
Arnaud is polite and greatly values manners. He often humbles himself when exchanging with others, friends and enemies alike, often giving off the impression he’s a gentle and jovial unit. All who have underestimated him have perished, however. He provides respect to all those he meets and even more so to those who defy him with shows of courage.

❖ Gluttonous
Not only with food, though a big man like him’s gotta eat, but with anything that can be remotely pleasurable. Arnaud tends to do many things in excess with a minimal grasp of temperance. A residue of his life as a near-King, although he is never crude or inelegant about it.

A beast of a man coming in at 194 cm tall and slightly over 200 kg of pure might. Once somewhat leaner, the years have added to Aheri’s bulk, which has done nothing but enhance the absolute unit that he is. His dark hair and beard remain long and maintained, although shorter than his days as a warlord. He only wears his nose-ring as jewellery from his past life, a sign that he’s almost entirely integrated in Perrench culture, but couldn’t fully let go of some of his more ironic pieces to go along with his white, body-wide tattoos.

Nowadays he wears armour like many of his fellow knights, albeit with frequent sacrifices to his arms and legs to favour movement. The Lion’s crest is built upon most armour he wears. In a more casual setting, he is usually content with a typical brown robe with a mere rope at the waist to keep it together and a pair of regular trousers. He also doesn’t walk barefoot.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Uru Zuyr
The Rhinoceros
The Dusted Beard
The Strongest Man in the World
Aheri

Born Aroun Maobe, he was the first son of Beirut Maobe, the King of the Zuyr people. A people with deep roots in Belzagg, but had drifted into a more nomadic lifestyle that ultimately detached them from their feuding continent in search for more fertile lands. It is when the lands that would eventually become Virang that Beirut’s ambition flourished, and would be Aroun’s burden to bear after his death.

A powerful people, made strong by ceaseless conflict and raiding, led by a powerful leader had everything it needed to make something great of this land. However, when Aroun was just 15, his father would perish in battle, putting the Maobe family’s might into question. The young Aroun would gain the moniker of Aheri the day his older cousin sought to take the throne. A mage himself, far more versed in the arts than Aroun, and yet it would be the cousin’s skull that’d be obliterated between the teenage beast’s palms. For he was already a formidable fighter, and a behemoth of a man.

Might didn’t make everything, and while the Zuyr still valued a leader as the strongest, it would be only thanks to his brother, Bashir, that their father’s ambition would enter the realm of possibility. Aroun was the might, Bashir the strategist. Their endeavours would go one for almost twenty years, countless battles to slowly assimilate more and more of the birthing Virang, until they reached an impasse with the natives of the lands that would later become Malabash. They needed more. More hands, more resources, more weapons.

The Eskand menace in the South didn’t come to deaf ears, even far in the North, especially with the aggressive expansion made by the Zuyr and the trade routes they would begin to open. An opportunity both Aroun and Bashir saw. With Parrence nearly crippled by the southern raids, the northern border was ripe for the picking by yet a new menace, also versed in raids. Albeit, one way over its head.

The first year, it was easy picking. Especially with Aheri the warlord spearheading the assaults, most champions stood no chance. It seemed dire for the fragilized empire. When Aheri came to sack and claim one of the small vassalized islands, he would be confronted by an all too familiar sight: A legion of armoured men ready to die with their commander having no chance against him.

What he didn’t account for was the lieutenant taking charge when the head of the defensive force was killed. A young, likely foolhardy rider Aroun would eliminate in a single hit. And yet he couldn’t help but respect the man with the Lion emblem. It is said that a mighty battle ensued, both sides clashing and no victor emerging for a good hour. Very few lived to tell the tale, but the Lion had managed to sink his teeth into the unstoppable rhino’s neck and subdued him. An impossibility, to be sure, and yet the raiding party’s numbers had completely dwindled, and Aheri was surrounded, slashed and impaled. The monster of the north had been stopped in his tracks by one many would simply call ‘The Lion Knight’.

Whether by genuine entrapment or stubbornness, Aheri was captured and his men either fled or were finished off. A prisoner of the Lion and a useful political tool to repulse the northern raids. They had their king, or at least former king, as he would end up disgraced like his father had after death. He was no longer their King by sheer might, or at least that is what Aheri believed. The times had changed, Bashir had brought prosperity without the need of archaic, tribalistic shows of might, but Aroun would no longer be their King. He would not accept it, for he was now a burden to his people.

With the threat of the South persisting and the North quelled now that their royal blood was kept as a ward, King Arcel considered it a waste to keep Aheri imprisoned. His might was renown and his experience crucial. And with that came an accord: He was to follow the strongest, as his people always did, which was the very King that the Lion served. A solemn oath of fealty, serving as a royal advisor and executioner to the king. And in exchange, a chance at redemption as a disgraced King. A great ally could be made of the Zuyr should they accomplish their wild but promising goal of founding their own nation. The promise of royal backing of Bashir’s endeavours was made between two men- not representatives of nations or royals, men who stared each other in the eyes without chains or guard. And swore to one another.

The young king reminded Aroun of himself in some way. Young, underestimated and carrying a massive burden, yet fearless to the threat ahead- fearless toward the Aheri himself. To this day, the now newly baptised Arnaud Maobe has only knelt to two: The Lion, and his King. The two living men that have his full respect. He carries out his promise day by day, fully accustomed to the culture of Parrence. Right up to the very Pentad being accepted in his life.

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

❖ Le Détroit - A massive battle axe with a pointed tip to double as a spear. The design is very Perrench, though the shape of the spear resembles his own weapon’s unique form in his chieftain days. It is weathered on one side, a testament to how much it’s been used, both in combat and as a tool for executions.

❖ Suhu’Ali - A sleeping drug. A small dose of this powder can help most go to sleep. A full blow of it to the face can put an elephant to sleep.

❖ Mkobo - A hallucinogenic drug used recreationally by his people. Arnaud doesn’t consume the stuff, but has used it against his enemies in the past and sometimes offers it to battle-scarred comrades to help them find some peace.

❖ Sidi - A pain drug. Used to dull pain, although needs to be dosed correctly at the risk of paralysis or even heart failure.

❖ Majini - A wicked drug used to ‘manipulate’ others. Some consider it a curse that even a gris-gris can’t help with. When eaten, it puts the victim into a frenzy where they often exhaust themselves to death and sometimes even enter fits of murderous rage. Small doses have been used to greatly enhance the brutality of soldiers in battle.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Third Wheel - Force & Essence - Leadvein

Arnaud never had any true initiation in the Gift beyond traditions that existed in his faction’s culture. Nonetheless, with his propensity for fighting and exceptional physical might long his bloodright as a Leadvein, he naturally developed the Force branch of mana, first using it to essentially enhance his already mighty blows, and now his very stomps have the potential to generate small-scale earthquakes and shockwaves. Loud battlecries that can repulse even fully armoured men too close to him are some of the fearsome things some have told about the Aheri.

Destroyer of the earth, generator of storms (massive air currents generated through Force magic), the moniker of ‘Strongest Man in the World’ can’t really be contested with factoring this facet alone. As a Leadvein, he has a natural talent for assimilating 'Force', being Kinetic energy, and utilizing it in destructive ways with little risk of harming himself.

His secondary Gift branch is Essence, a common one found among the top mages in the Zuyr people. It is almost entirely internal to the caster with rare hallucinogenic purposes applied to the enemy. Aheri uses it mainly in two ways: Self-enhancement, which has led him to develop his own unique ‘buff’ in recent years, and creation of drugs typically found in his culture.

❖ The Lion’s Triumph: An homage to the one man who bested him. Aheri roars in a similar fashion to a lion, causing a surge of adrenaline and other potent substances to course through his being before ground himself in a grand earthquake. His sweat becomes steam and his body becomes particularly hot. Now every step and strike he only lightly winds up is capable of causing massive seismic blasts for a brief period. He is also quite faster.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Absurd Physical Might
Even without the Gift, Arnaud has been known to stop Rhinos in their tracks with only his hands. Coupled with great proficiency with many spear and axe-like weapons, he is a threat to even strong mages without using an ounce of mana. It is said his grip is so great, he can crack rocks with it.

❖ Very Fast for his Size
When he starts running, very little can stop him, and he continuously gains momentum. But even in the heat of the moment, he catches many off-guard with how quick he can land some strikes, even if he isn’t going to be dodging many attacks himself (Mobility =/= swift attacks).

❖ Battle-hardened
Moulded by hundreds of battles, a man like this has the willpower few can compare to. Not only has his decision making improved with the passage of time, but he can withstand the worst of odds and come out on top no matter how arduous the path is.

❖ Cultured
From Belzagg to West Severa to Rettan, Arnaud has made his mark in many places, and not always as a conqueror or raider. He is versed in many cultures that surround Virang and can hold conversational-level exchanges with many languages common in the area.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Tunnel-Visioned
Once he’s fixated on something, it’s hard to distract him, especially if he’s worked up. Though even mundane curiosities can get him caught up in spirals of exaggerated interest for an entire day.

❖ Collateral Damage
A man that’s known for generating earthquakes and laying entire lands to waste through sheer might is bound to be a hazard to allies and foes alike.

❖ Winded
He’s fat and getting old. His stamina isn’t what it used to be, which some can definitely use to their advantage if they’re bold enough to tire him out.

❖ Illiterate
Scholarly work was not for him, he was a warrior and operated through doing things. His brother was the wittier of the two. He does understand some texts in Perrench, more so out of crude memorization and actual reading ability, from his conversion. Surprisingly, his lingo is actually not that bad, as he has a pretty good memory.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ Hex code: 7F4C20
❖ He remembers the name and face of every opponent he has fought and killed.

[Atalanta]

Osanna

Osanna Lenoir__ _ _ _ _

22|F E M A L E|T H E R E Z A I N D I A N O R D E R|F O R C E & A R C A N E|I N F I L T R A T O R__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

Osanna is of average height and build, though her arms, back, and legs are corded after a decade of dedicated training in the sword and stealth. She has brown hair just longer than jaw-length, light brown eyes, and full lips. There is a tattoo of a skull on her left hip.

She is affable and educated enough to move between most social circles. She is inquisitive by nature, intelligent, and often shows a dark sense of humor. Her motivation is entirely based on the Rezaindian Order. She is no rebel. She believes in her God, in her calling, in her superiors. For those interested in a more nuanced or contrasting worldview, she may come across as dull, but she is nothing if not dedicated.

Osanna sees herself as a tool to be used by the hand of her God and is motivated first and foremost by performing that duty well. She is not inhuman, however, and feels a desire to be liked by her peers. She covets close relationships but is not ill-contented with her life.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

| From Osanna’s Journal |

Our order is not filled with those of noble blood. It is rarely touched, even, by the wealthy, though our Abbotts and Bishops, perhaps, hold that lofty station. We are the extra children, the unwanted, the last-born to homes rife with mouths to feed. We are the sons and daughters of Parrece’s lowliest scoundrels and criminals.

And still, Echeran takes us.

I was no different. Left at the Convent at Chiroux as a babe, I was accepted into the order as all donations are—clothed in the shades of the Echeran and given a purpose.

For years, that purpose was simple— to clean and mend cloth and tend fires. I learned to read from the Menanne, to sing praises to the Gods, to say my prayers first to Echeran and then to the others of the Pentad. The nuns taught me the geography of our world, basic arithmetic, the Avincian tongue, and the ways of caring for the dead.

All the children of the convent were taught such until we reached the age of twelve when we were given to the suborders. I was slotted to wear the Grey, to spend my life in the careful preparation of the dead and their mourning so that they might pass safely into the care of Echeran’s hands. But— Echeran spare me— I was not happy with that calling. My entire life, I had watched the Reds, the strong-armed women in their rich, crimson capes and real steel strapped to their sides. There were a handful or two who lived regularly in our convent, and I am only a little ashamed to say that I idolized them.

I watched their training with avid interest, taking rough chores in the stable or gardens to be closer to their labors. Their shadows were more familiar to me than my own as I made myself one of them, listening to their talk, their laughter. At night, when the rest of the convent slept, I slipped into the rooms where they kept their practice weapons and drilled the forms I had learned from watching them practice in the day.

In all this time, it did not occur to me to take what I learned to my superiors, to show them that I deserved the place that I longed for. I was always a guarded, quiet thing, so it was nearly a full year into my training with the Grey Rezaindians of our order that I was caught with a borrowed sword in my hand in the shadowed recesses of our convent’s land.

I was terrified. As a biddable child, I was never much in trouble, and the seriousness with which the red-cloaked sister hauled me to our convent’s upper floors had my head spinning with imagined tortures. Would they kill me? Take away my chance of becoming a nun? Or worst of all, banish me from my home and the protection of the convent?

Instead, I was taken before the abbess and a woman in black who I knew to be of prominence in the convent. I was not sure of her order. They and the Red Rezaindian who had discovered my transgression asked many questions about the length and nature of my nightly training sessions, how long they had gone on, and to what level of skill I had reached. I answered truthfully, too frightened to do anything else, and when I told them that I had done it out of respect and awe of the red-cloaked sisters, the abbess smiled. She told me that I had done well, that my skills would serve Echeran. She told me that my blade would kill for our order.

And so it has.

My training began in earnest then— at night much of the time, though I have never known for sure if it was because of the secrecy of the Black Rezaindians or because my teachers preferred the dark hours to the light. My natural abilities with stealth were given direction, my knowledge of languages expanded, and an understanding of poisons and antidotes drilled into my mind. I was given regular training with the red sisters, though I then understood I would never be one of them. My mornings were spent in meditation, my afternoons in study of The Gift.

Then, when it became time to pay back the order for all it had given me, I began to kill, and to kill well. I accepted requests from my abbess passed, often, from above even her head. When I proved successful, I was moved wherever I was needed, given contracts both close to home and far afield. I have ever been one of many. A tool to be wielded. A knife in the dark.

Such has been my life for years, and so would it have continued if not for the call to Relouse from King Arcel of Parrence…

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

❖ A long, thin-bladed side sword. It has a simple, worn leather hilt, and the blade is real steel.
❖ A long knife for parrying
❖ Two well-balanced throwing knives
❖ A collection of powdered poisons and antidotes
❖ A set of hollow darts (no blowing necessary)
❖ Sturdy leather boots, a few changes of simple, dark garb
❖ Boiled leather cuirass, bracers,and greaves
❖ Long black cloak wide enough to serve as a blanket
❖ The Necessities: Travel Rations, Bedroll, Sewing Needles, Thread, Rope
❖ A stolid grey mare named Shade

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Five Wheels Rating: 2

In general, Osanna's magical ability is small. It is her cleverness that makes it so useful.

Favoured School: Force

Osanna primarily uses Force magic to augment her impressive abilities with swords, and to a lesser extent, knives. This is her main offensive magical ability, though there have been instances in which a small amount of telekinesis allowed her to down an enemy— throwing sand into eyes or manipulating a poisoned dart for instance. She does not have the capacity to levitate herself or other large objects, but will occasionally give herself a push to leap a little farther, move a little faster, or hit a little harder.

Secondary School: Arcane

Osanna primarily uses the Arcane school to draw power and to hide when she needs to get away quickly. The sisters of her convent taught her to bend light around herself and disappear into shadows, though she is not powerful enough to disappear completely in bright light. Once or twice, it has been helpful to flash a little light into the eyes of an opponent or make a glow to see by in the pitch dark.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Sword Mastery
❖ Stealth
❖ Knowledge of Poisons and Antidotes
❖ Intelligence

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Low Magical Capacity
❖ Poor Defence (relies on hiding and subversion)
❖ Poor understanding of lands and people outside of Parrence
❖ Poor Mounted Combat ability

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ hex code

[Siber]

I have taken interest! I may take 1-2 days to post a character, though - I shall need all my creative juices for an in-depth character.
Might I ask why this isn't in Advanced Roleplay? Really cool concept regardless!

[pantothenic]

I have taken interest! I may take 1-2 days to post a character, though - I shall need all my creative juices for an in-depth character.
Might I ask why this isn't in Advanced Roleplay? Really cool concept regardless!

@Siber

Casual RP is just the most popular and accessible category on the forum. You have plenty of room to make long posts and do detailed world building without being expected to, but you also have just enough standards to keep out the low effort posting of Free RP.

[Force and Fury]

@pantothenic,@Atalanta, and @YummyYummy: I'm loving the characters. For the first two, feel free to pop them straight into the Character tab once the OOC is launched tomorrow, as I've already reviewed them. For Yummy, you can stick Aheri in there once I've given you feedback. Was just too damned busy today! There isn't much, so don't worry.

@Siber Great to have you aboard. Any idea what sort of character you might be gravitating towards? Feel free to bounce any questions or ideas that you have off of me either here, by DM, or on discord. On that note, I'd recommend joining our discord if you're interested. You'll find a lot of help and additional resources there. Some people have been RPing within the world of Sipente for quite a while now and know its lore basically as well as I do.

---

In more general news, the OOC will go live tomorrow and I'll finally be finishing poor Arcel's CS. He's been waiting for a while. I'm also hoping to have some info on flora and fauna up once we reach OOC. Stretch goals include having a more detailed map that doesn't suck. Those will realistically trickle in as they become ready. If there's still more that you want to know, you can always check out The Hourglass Order. Happy RPing and see you tomorrow!

[udonoodles]

I know the OOC is popping up sometime today, but I figured I'd drop my complete character sheet here since I've just finished, and in case I'm not quick enough on the draw for one of the warlock slots. Let me know what you think! I'm happy to change or add anything as needed.

Edmund Hereward

Edmund Hereward__ _ _ _ _

54 | M A L E | P A R R E N C E | F O R C E & B L O O D | W A R L O C K__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

Edmund is an unnerving man to be in the presence of: He is taller than most men, his thin limbs and fingers giving him a ghastly silhouette when cloaked in his wardrobe of blacks and whites. Red gloves complete his sinister attire, made of fine silk paid for with blood money. He keeps his distance from others physically and emotionally, his body language remaining guarded as he speaks, his words carefully selected so as not to betray any more information than he would like. He is measured and withdrawn, a being of logic and stability. He rarely if ever reveals an emotion around others, and his parlance is taciturn and to the point.
Yet, behind the veneer of the enigmatic, unsettling "Black Duke", as those close to him have come to know him—lies a man of great complexity with a startling vision for the world.

Edmund's worldview hinges on a simple principle: He believes that all life, above everything else, seeks peace of mind. Humans are driven into conflict because they have perverted the natural order, demanding more than is needed. Animals will only attack when their territory—their peace of mind—is threatened. Humans, however, hold excess and desire in the most noble regard, and so endlessly pursue it at the cost of security. Thus, the goal of a noble man should be to equalise: The ideal world is one in which all people have the same, without hierarchy, existing as a collective rather than battling amongst each other.

Edmund, however, acknowledges this world is not one he lives in. And so, he fights tooth and nail to ensure his peace of mind.
This is his main drive: How can he stay secure, and clear his mind of worry? Thus, his moral system is one which revolves entirely around himself. He is not amoral, nor bloodthirsty: He does not enjoy killing or causing suffering, nor does he have any desire to manipulate or harm others for simple fun. However, he is not opposed to any of this should it bring him peace of mind—he will bring conflicts to an end if such a conflict would cause him anxiety, and likewise kill, lie and steal if it meant protecting his livelihood.
Still, Edmund is human, and he cannot shake the twinge of remorse that strikes when he is forced to commit "evil" acts—if there is a less harmful path to take, he will opt for it. Still, he will do as he must, in the end.

Though he masks it well in public, Edmund is in fact quite an emotionally turbulent individual. He is prone to mood swings, especially into anxiety and paranoia. Easily is his mind disturbed, latching onto troubling thoughts or small moments of negativity and inflating them. Rather than discouraging him, however, these thoughts drive him—though, if driven too deep into paranoia, he is prone to rash decisions in a desperate attempt to silence his mind.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Though he is known as a wealthy and respectable businessman, Edmund was not always a member of the aristocracy. Born into a farming family, the young Edmund was an ambitious child, striving for greatness from an early age. His father encouraged these pursuits, putting forward what little funds they had in an effort to educate the boy. It was thanks to this that Edmund's shrewd business sense began to develop, and as he grew, he began devising various methods through which his family farm could improve: Optimal crop rotation, chemical compounds to improve soil quality—but his greatest strength was his shrewd business sense, which led his humble family farm to expand considerably. No longer would they be subsistence farmers—now they were merchants, selling their bountiful produce.

As their fortunes turned, and the money began to roll in, Edmund was overwhelmed with a profound sense of peace. He had found security in life: A path was clearly laid out for him, and there would be no uncertainty or unpleasant surprises. He could tell exactly how his life would go, and that brought him tremendous calm.

Until the competitors began to arise, and his position as merchant to the esteemed was challenged. Jackals, that’s what these charlatans were—con-men selling subpar snake oil packaged as fine cuisine for the most eminent of epicureans. They dared to challenge his expertly grown produce, muscle in on his market with their cheap peasant slop? He’d see them ousted, whatever it took.

And what it took was just a few deals with businessmen of a less savoury stripe: They would make sure accidents befell shipments, produce was spoiled, carriage drivers intimidated out of their jobs. In return, Edmund would slip a modest sum under the table for them, overlook the stolen valuables and contraband sneaked into the back of his shipments. And if these associates got too big for their boots…Well, surely, the enforcers of justice would believe the story of a noble merchant, intimidated into compliance by the brutish thugs and criminals?

Finally, Edmund believed himself to be truly untouchable. That was, until whispering of war began to reach his ears—a war that could totally upturn his livelihood, his network, everything he’d worked for. He would not stand for this: He would do all it took to protect the kingdom in which he made his living. Though, if the enemy offered him parlay…Well, he’d go wherever loyalty was valued the most./

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

-A steel dagger, with a jagged lightning-bolt shaped edge, similar to an Indonesian Kris.
-A notebook and pencil. In this notebook, Edmund writes just about anything relevant to his interests.
-A pocket mirror, for making himself presentable for business meetings.
-Various vials and burlap pouches for carrying small possessions.
-A smooth cloak made of expensive material, which Edmund can use as bedding in a pinch.
-A plain white porcelain mask worn when consorting with criminals.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Third Wheel - Force and Blood - Bloodchild
While not one to rush into battle perhaps as keenly as some others, Edmund nonetheless recognises the importance of self defence. For this purpose, he mainly leans into practising Blood magic: Its versatility in both defence and offence makes it a boon to have when repelling enemy assaults. He focuses heavily on its ability to shape constructs from matter, controlling the flow of battle by constructing obstacles for his enemies and opportunities for himself and his allies. He is a master of zoning out the battlefield, making himself difficult to approach and employing traps and projectiles to frustrate his enemy’s attempts to close the distance.

In a similar vein, his secondary school of Force allows him considerable mobility, as well as an added method of controlling his environment. He bounces sound around to confuse the enemy of his position, throwing himself about and levitating to quickly reposition. However, while able-bodied, Edmund is nowhere close to the physical strength and endurance of most other combatants—thus, he is in trouble if his opponent does catch him, and the ability of Force to empower one’s physical attacks is mostly useless to him. Nonetheless, he is a slippery opponent indeed, utilising his powers like a trickster to disorient and tire his opponent.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Intelligence - Edmund is a learned and scholarly man, with knowledge in a variety of subjects, as well as the wit to apply it practically.
❖ Business sense, both legitimate and illegitimate - A shrewd businessman, Edmund understands the art of the deal quite well. He is no stranger to shadier deals, as well, and has an intimate knowledge of the criminal underworld's customs.
❖ Silver tongued - Befitting of a businessman, Edmund is a persuasive individual with good people skills. He can rouse morale in the most crestfallen, and convince even the stubbornest of them to see things his way.
❖ Determined - Edmund is incredibly driven, and is not easily deterred from what he desires. He will continue to pursue his goal where others would succumb to despair, his willpower seeing him through to the end.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Selfish - Edmund looks after himself above all else, and despises self-sacrifice, even when necessary.
❖ Paranoid - Edmund is easily spooked, worrying far too much for his own good.
❖ Close-minded - Edmund is stubborn, and often insistent on his way. He is slow to accept new ideas, and would spurn the advice of even a sage if it contradicted his own view.
❖ Controlling - Edmund is cunning and manipulative to a detriment, and struggles to form genuine connections with others. This often leads to them mistrusting him, and makes loyalty difficult for him to earn.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ Hex - c42a21

[Siber]

@Siber Great to have you aboard. Any idea what sort of character you might be gravitating towards? Feel free to bounce any questions or ideas that you have off of me either here, by DM, or on discord. On that note, I'd recommend joining our discord if you're interested. You'll find a lot of help and additional resources there. Some people have been RPing within the world of Sipente for quite a while now and know its lore basically as well as I do.

@Force and Fury

I'm thinking of a Bard that specializes in Force. Planning for her to be a Drudgunzean. As far as details go... I don't have a lot, but I'm hoping to work a bit more tonight!

[Force and Fury]

@Siber Great to have you aboard. Any idea what sort of character you might be gravitating towards? Feel free to bounce any questions or ideas that you have off of me either here, by DM, or on discord. On that note, I'd recommend joining our discord if you're interested. You'll find a lot of help and additional resources there. Some people have been RPing within the world of Sipente for quite a while now and know its lore basically as well as I do.

@Force and Fury

I'm thinking of a Bard that specializes in Force. Planning for her to be a Drudgunzean. As far as details go... I don't have a lot, but I'm hoping to work a bit more tonight!

@Siber

Sounds good! Keep me posted. OOC is going up within half an hour.

[Force and Fury]

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Well, it's Thursday (depending on your time zone), ladies and gents, so you get a tag, you get a tag, and you get a tag! Everybody gets a tag!

@A Lowly Wretch @udonoodles @pantothenic @Shu @Ti @Fetzen @Th3King0fChaos @dragonpiece @YummyYummy @josephb@Atalanta @Inertia @Pirouette @Tackytaff @Siber

There's a reason, however: as promised, our OOC is now live. I'll be reviewing Character Sheet submissions until next Tuesday night (May 31st) GMT-4 and then Oriflamme will officially begin! Thanks for showing your interest and helping bring this idea to life. I'm pee-my-pants (but not actually) levels of excited to see what you come up with and where this all goes. On that note, any further questions or ideas can be addressed in the OOC chat or on Discord.

---> OOC <---

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[jasbraq]

Hildr

Hildr The Red__ _ _ _ _

34 | Female | Drudgunze | Force | Knight__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

A tall, fair, statuesque woman, at 178 cm in height, Hildr’s distant Eskandr blood runs thick.

Her main motivation is to live life to its fullest and take care of her blood brothers, although there have been rumors that the person who healed her blindness is still alive.

She loves to piss her opponents off to make up for her own general lack of possible ways to approach a fight. Her attitude does not carry over in her day to day life as she is fairly shy and can be intimidated with words without any intention to violence.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

A Drudgunzean with an unusually high wheel score: almost fifth. This gift was nothing but a curse for the girl at birth as her condition left her blind until a healer of the old gods came to cleanse her of her condition, allowing Hildr to see for the first time at the age of three.

She always admired her father, later inheriting two of his blades. Her prowess with fighting more wildly than the average knight was looked down upon by her fellow Drudgunzeans. This caused her to become a traveling hire blade that mostly resides in Eskandr’s region.

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

a pair of arming swords along with her armor.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Fourth wheel, Leadvein, being gifted with Force. The gift plays a large part into her fighting style as she uses it to leech the enemy’s kinetic energy and puts it into her own attacks. Having been blind for the first three years of her life, Hildr has an above average sense of hearing, smell, and touch. This, however, does leave her rather handsy around people she’s close to.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Combative skills around spears
❖ Hunting
❖ high raw magic
❖ Heightened senses

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Barely any knowledge on magic
❖ quick to lose her temper
❖ Bad with romance
❖ Socially awkward

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ 870C0B