Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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Now Accepting Characters!


Introduction:


Welcome to The Frozen Flame! This is a reboot of an RP that was ongoing before the old site's crash and is now accepting new characters. It is a dark fantasy story focusing more on character and storytelling than combat and the more game-like aspects of RPing. As a GM, I'm more interested in characters interacting and developing and giving players an interesting canvas to tell their own stories as well as guiding the tale with my own hand to produce some hopefully dramatic event opportunities for your avatars, so you'll find that I am extremely open-ended to folks chipping in with ideas wherever applicable-- whether it be fleshing out the world or introducing cool subplots. In the previous version of the RP, plenty of people contributed many incredible ideas that are now 'canon' as far as the story and world go, and I hope that our new members will be inspired to do the same!

Now, without further ado, on to world info!

The First War


Long ago, before the death of the old world, a divine war shook the earth and tore through the heavens.

Two celestial Titans, one borne of Fire and one borne of Frost, clashed for seven days and seven nights.

The millions of devoted men, women and children who worshiped and adored the two Titans perished as their divine conflict brought ruin to the world.

Not one thing mattered to each of the two Titans but absolute victory over the other.

At the end of the Seventh Night, Frost dealt a mortal blow to Fire, and in its hubris, the cold God stood and laughed as its hated foe's death throes began to resonate throughout the ruined earth. Before its final flame was extinguished, the burning god summoned all of its remaining might and dealt a terrifying blow to Frost.

Letting out a terrible scream which spread to the furthest frontiers of the world, Frost was shattered into twelve great remnants, each of them falling to separate corners of the land. It was then and only then that Fire allowed itself to die.

With Fire extinguished, and the divine countenance of Frost shattered, the world began to take on a cataclysmic change as the great elements were thrown out of their delicate balance.

The fathomless oceans of the world rose up and swallowed the earth, plunging all but the tallest mountains and towers deep beneath the sea. Precious few survived the Deluge, and those who did live through this oblivion would in turn face an even greater punishment.

A preternatural winter unlike any before it consumed the already dying world, turning the great flooded oceans and the silent cities beneath them to ice. The last humans and animals left alive fought on bravely in the face of this unholy winter, but in time they too died out.

The world was left a frozen husk, with nothing to remain of the billions of lives that once lived and flourished in it but the ruins of derelict ships half-buried in the ice and the lonely spires of the great towers that once reached toward the sky poking up from the frozen earth.

The divine war between the two titans brought an end to the previous world, and in this frozen and boundless emptiness did it remain until many thousands of lifetimes later, when the Twelve Remnants of the Titan of Frost, now lying spread throughout the regions of the world, suddenly awakened with wills of their own...


The Broken Pantheon


When the Twelve Remnants of the dead god became sentient, they awoke with both a blessing and curse.

The scattered pieces of the Ice Titan, upon drawing breath, found that they had inherited certain traits of the all-powerful being who's destruction brought about their birth.

Each of the Remnants found themselves powerful beyond imagining in their own specific sphere of influence, able to bend the fabric of existence to their will (to a certain degree). They first used this power to change their broken and jagged shapes into less damaged-looking forms. Not soon after this however, the Remnants discovered something terrible.

On the first eve of their awakening, the Remnants were afflicted with a torturous and unending pain. Waves of agony swept through their newly-created bodies, and they could do nothing but endure it. The Remnants then remembered that they were not truly whole beings, but only imperfect pieces of a greater collective.

Each came to the dreaded realization that as long as the Remnants remained free and independent of one another, they would suffer from the existential agony of being un-whole and imperfect, and thus it became the ravenous desire for each of the Twelve Remnants to seek out and devour the other eleven. And so, the twelve lesser gods wandered far and wide through the frozen earth, each on an odyssey to find, kill, and eat the ones who remained.

To do this however, they would require outside help.

As the first two Remnants discovered upon finding one another after years of wandering, they could not wound each other directly, as they were both parts of the same whole. No matter how many blows they dealt to each other, not a scratch would appear on either Remnant. This 'divine rule' would change the Remnants' methods of warring against each other and would in turn lead them to a far nobler destiny than any of them could have imagined.

Using their inherited divinity, the Remnants first revived the ancient apex beasts and animals of the old world and set them on each other. Colossal dragons and massive ice krakens all sprung into existence at the cost of the Remnants' own power, every one of them reborn with the intent to kill the opposing lesser gods and their respective forces. This first step in the war between the Remnants did not work out as intended, for animals and beasts, as fierce and powerful as they are, lack one all-important component that makes them truly dangerous-- intelligence.

And so, the Remnants looked back on the history of this dead world, and found one species of animal that would suit their needs.

Thus, on a day forgotten by time, human beings were reborn. Billions of men, women, and children rose from their icy graves, suddenly populating the once lifeless husk of this world. As they stood there bewildered, the Remnants spoke, and told them of their new purpose.

Humans were to serve as the devoted crusaders of the gods who revived them. Blessed by the Remnants and gifted with a divine flame that would burn in their souls and protect them from the dark cold that froze everything around them, the reborn humans set out to erect great civilations so that they may wage the Remnants' wars in their place.

These first men and women, reborn and given life by their gods, were our ancestors, and they lived only to serve the patron deity who blessed their frozen souls with the fire to endure the cold of this world.

Since that day, eons have passed, nations have risen and fallen, Gods have devoured and have been eaten in turn-- but the Purpose remains the same. Every boy and girl born in this frozen world is raised to serve their country and fight in the name of their patron deity.

On every nation of this world is this truth perpetuated.

A New World


Human civilization is thought to only exist on the three Known Continents. These massive landmasses have been kept separated by the icy maelstroms that have stormed over the frozen oceans for eons beyond number. On the continents, the deadly ice storms are kept at bay by the Gods of the Broken Pantheon (as the Remnants are known by humanity). so that their flock can serve them without fear of freezing to death.

Life on the continents is hard, but considerably less dangerous than on the open sea. In modern times, great cities of steam sprawl over the snows, filling the sky with soot and ash. Out on the iced-over oceans, the blizzards can kill a human being within minutes, and if they don't, the horrible beasts and unholy demons that haunt the frontiers will likely finish the job.

Because of the unbearable cold and the conditions out in the ice fields, travel between the three different continents is unheard of, and thus there has been little if any contact between the civilizations existing on the separate landmasses.

The story of The Frozen Flame will begin in the Empire of Varya, located on the western-most continent-- a colossal landmass with a long and blood-stained history.

On this continent, the borders were once split between four independent kingdoms-- T'sarae, Omestris, Muraad, and Varya. Each of these great and powerful countries was founded by a god or goddess of the Broken Pantheon, and for as long as anyone could remember, the four kingdoms existed in an uneasy ceasefire, each biding their time to strike.

Two-hundred years ago however, the nation of Varya launched a massive invasion of the continent and after a century of fighting, the god-kings of T'sarae, Omestris, and Muraad were captured and brought back to Varya, where to this day they lie imprisoned in the Varyan capital city, their divine blood being slowly sucked out by the God Varya's arcane machines.

Varya, now an immense empire after staking a claim on the entire continent, then turned its attention towards the mighty Queendom of Lanostre located on the subcontinent to the south of the Varyan landmass.

Lanostre, a land famed for its deadly soldiers, was a small but powerful nation ruled by their beloved goddess. The ensuing war between Varya and Lanostre was short and bloody, with both sides suffering massive casualties. Still, despite the immense size of Varya's armies, it lost more soldiers in the long and violent campaign than their Lanostran enemies, as the skill of the small kingdom's army military was unrivaled.

After three years of war, Lanostre finally surrendered after its Goddess appeared in the Varyan capital one fateful day and did something unheard of throughout the history of the world--she willingly offered herself to the God Varya. It is not clear why she did this or if the God Varya devoured the Goddess Lanostre, but after that day, the Lanostran Queendom willingly surrendered its sovereignty to the Varyan empire. Its people-- the men and women who were feared throughout the battlefields for their strength and valour, were then accepted into Varyan society

The War Against the East


Having conquered and imprisoned the four gods of the Western Lands, the God Varya turned His eye to the East-- an unknown frontier hidden by ice storms that no Westerner had ever ventured to and returned.

There had always been fantastical tales about the East. Children were told bedtime stories of the Wild Gods that ruled over the Eastern Folk and of the evil demons and frost dragons that prowled those untamed lands. To every boy and girl growing up in Varya or Lanostre, the Lands beyond the Eastern Ice Storms were an exotic fantasy, a frontier of adventure and mystery. Thus, when the God Varya declared to His flock that the empire's greatest engineers had built a fleet of powerful steam arks to carry a great legion of soldiers across the frozen sea to invade the wild and untamed eastern lands, all of Varya celebrated.

Nothing was known of the Eastern Lands, only that there were two continents located across the sea and that on these mysterious landmasses the remaining sevenn gods of the Broken Pantheon ruled. Furthermore, it was not known if there were even nine gods left. Had any of them been devoured? What manner of gods were they? What kind of people worshiped these gods?

The citizens of Varya had long dreamed of the answers to these questions.

A great army comprised of many of Varya and Lanostre's greatest soldiers, along with an army of slaves from Omestris and Muraad, was formed to establish a foothold on one of the Eastern continents for a possible invasion. This grand legion boarded a great fleet of powerful steam arks (highly-advanced transportation vessels that could withstand the ice storms) and at once set out to face their fate across the eastern sea.

It took many months for the First Armada to reach the mysterious continent which would become known as 'El'. After sending many garbled transmissions back to Varya telling the High Command of their many victories against the Elurian enemy, the messages from the warfront mysteriously stopped coming.

After weeks of silence, the Varyan High Command began to grow restless.

For the all-powerful Varyan legion to suddenly end their communication with home was worrying indeed. Had they been defeated? Did the Wild Gods of the eastern lands convert them? The High Command could not know, for they were separated from the legion by thousands of miles of frozen ocean.

It was then that the High Command sent an emergency transmission to two lone steam arks currently making the perilous journey to the Elurian continent. One of these steam arks carried in its hold a group of young war priests sent on a missionary expedition to the mysterious eastern continent, while the other steam ark contained the priests' military support.

The transmission contained new orders for the priests. Instead of their missionary work, they were now to uncover the shadowy whereabouts of the Varyan legion and inform the High Command of whatever knowledge they could manage to gather.

This transmission, unbeknownst to both the officers of the High Command, the young priests, and the company of soldiers accompanying the clergy on this dark odyssey, will change them all and will set in motion events that will bring a cataclysmic change to the world. Whether that change heals the world, or brings it to further ruin...

... Is up to you.

World Information


 
The Priesthood




An Unlikely Power-Source




 
Ether as a Weapon




The Broken Pantheon & their Flock




Character Information




Character Sheet




Rules & Suggestions


- No godmodding.
- Follow all of RPGs rules.
- I know I don't have to mention this, but there should be no seniority between any of the older members and the new folks. Everyone is here to have fun RPing, so if I see anything like that, we're going to have a problem.
- I'm a pretty cool and chill gal, but as GM if I see something I don't like I'm going to talk to you about it.
- Be cool! Be friendly and cordial. If you have an issue with someone or with anything regarding the RP, please hash it out respectfully.
- This is the kind of story that will necessitate a lot of participation and discussion, so if you're the kind of person that hangs back in the shadows and doesn't contribute to our discussions in the OOC then this RP probably isn't for you.
- If you have to leave or are unable to post for whatever reason, let us know! Don't just disappear on us. If you let us know and give us a timetable of when you're able to return, we'll then be able to plan accordingly how to handle your character.
- Don't be shy! Make sure you let me know of any cool ideas or suggestions you might have for the RP. :)

[center]***[\center]

That's all for now guys. I'll be posting some more miscellaneous information about the world in the second post later on. I didn't want to overwhelm with too much info. Anyway, if you have any questions about the world of the storyline, don't hesitate to ask. I'm eagerly anticipating seeing what you guys come up with!
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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Misc World Info


Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Scout
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Reporting for duty. I'll repost Kass (if you want currently accepted characters to be reposted) later today ^^
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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Good to see you Scout :p. Sure, go ahead and repost her.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Desert Zephyr
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And Van shall be reborn!

Name: Eldvanar Skölgrimm is his birth name but is more commonly known as Van the Frostborn
Age: 22
Height/Weight: 5’10’’ or 1.78 meters tall, 155 lbs or 70.3 kg.

Appearance: A wiry five foot ten inches, Van is short for the people of Muraad and has yet to fill out. He also doesn’t quite match the complexion and build of his nearest neighbors. He has unruly dark red-auburn hard, and slightly hooded ice blue eyes. They have a tendency to develop dark bags when sleep deprived. Van possesses an aquiline profile, with a slightly hooked nose and pointed chin with slow but full growing beard. Van has abnormally pointed canines, and an old white scar running along just under his left cheekbone. Slightly hooded eyes, with a frequent tendency to get dark bags under his eyes when more than slightly sleep deprived.
Appearance

Van has long slender fingers, with significant calluses on knuckles pads, and palms. He has large heavily muscled forearms, dotted with molten metal burn scars from crafting, smithing and archery. Consequently, he has large heavily built shoulders despite his wiry frame and has a bite scar on upper left bicep from a wolf. Another bite scar is on his right thigh. There are several more scars from light slashes across his chest, back and stomach.

Following the old traditions of Muraad, male children are tattooed at a young age as a rite of passage to adult life. Usually done by the village head or another wise figure blessed by extraordinary sight, the tattoo is not only a representative of an adult but their path through life. Instead of the traditional age of twelve, Eldvanar was tattooed by his adopted father En Skøld at the age of 6. Despite the amount of growing left, Skøld was able to tattoo the young boy with such skill that only at full growth will all the images be revealed. The tattoo is an intricate blue and black geometric tattoo with assorted scenes embedded within it. The tattoo covers from the right bicep to left pectoral and shoulder blade, and from join of right shoulder to neck down to right hip.

Only three scenes are currently visible in the tattoo. The first is a serpent dragon fighting a giant wolf with a great hawk overhead waiting to strike on the right pectoral. The second is a ruined mountain top in the middle of lightning storm. Two giant figures, one of light from the store, and one of fire on the ruined mountain clash with a god of ice preparing for combat from a surrounding fjord. It is located on the side of the right shoulder on the deltoid. The last is still too small to be clearly seen, but appears to be a raging sea scene.

Personality: Van is bitter, haunted by past memories and ideologies, and broods frequently. He is ruthless and ambitious with a mercurial temper with a tendency to hold grudges. His revenge tends to be inventively brutal, and he prefers to permanently end threats. Van is usually arrogant and brash, and will be impulsive if his emotions are running hot. Van is independent, cynical and untrusting. He also is usually clever rather than wise. Past experiences has created a revulsion to drunkenness.

Van struggles with faith to Varya. Not only was he not raised to the faith of Varya, but the idea of god that is less than supreme with other equals causes problems. Nonetheless, the power demonstrated by Varya causes a conundrum. Van is extremely well-versed in scripture, given his training in memorization, and can debate cleverly. However, the doctrine and dogma mean nothing to him on a spiritual level, as dictates of men seem irrelevant with a living breathing god. Sometimes it can be a comforting routine, well it is normally a minor irritation for having to go through the motions.

Talents/Abilities:

Physical Abilities: While well versed in the theory of a wide variety of weapons, the only three he displays any talent in are the bow, the spear, and the rifle. While skilled in unarmed combat, his slight build and size reduce his capabilities to just better than average, and he is clumsy with a sword. Van excels in endurance. Not only do most bitterly cold environments cause no discomfort, he can hike and port far more than might be expected. The counterpoint is that he lacks a certain raw, explosive strength.

Magical Abilities: Another area was Van is skilled in theory and poor in practice. While he can comprehend most of abilities, he cannot consciously perform more than the minimum required basics. He continues to practice and improve, if very slowly. He possesses two magical skills that he uses unconsciously at times. The first seems to derive from gods, and is shaping and creation of ice. The energy taken away is transferred to Van. While somewhat addicting, it is both random and has stubbornly refused all conscious control.

Unending Vigor: Van’s sole well-performed magical skill has been performed from birth. He very efficiently converts ether into physical endurance and energy. It sustains and regenerates his body so as long as the initial wounds or a serious infection doesn’t kill him and he has a supply of energy or ether to draw on, he will eventually heal, and a rate between 10% and 20% faster than anyone else.

Background: Eldvanar Skölgrimm was found by his adopted father in the Ice Wastes as he prospected for lead sands and blood vine. The infant was found in swaddling clothes covered in frozen blood on a frozen slick of red ice. Despite what might have been a day of exposure in one of the harshest places on the continent, the young boy was still alive. Skøld scouted around the area for clues to his past, but other than generic traces of a fight and scavenging from animals. Had Skøld been of the Muraad, he would have left the boy alone in the wastes to die. Infants who survived the Wastes for more than a night were Frostborn, loved by the gods of ice with hearts just as cold. Skøld saw the boy’s fringe of red hair and took it as portents to other things, and retrieved the boy to live with him for his own ends.

Old En Skøld was a foreigner to the small rural town of Arvska, home of a well-known but small crystal works. The one-eyed gray haired man had arrived five years earlier and had quickly and quietly made himself indispensable as a tinker, a craftsman, a smith, and a tattoo artist. Brilliant but mad, old Skøld was a master with his long clever fingers and fever-bright eyes that could clearly see into the heart of things. Prone to uttering heresy when drunk, bringing home a cursed infant did little to change their opinion of the man. Too rural to be able to afford to get rid of the probable T’saraen and his vital skills and inventions, they settled for a grudging respect, a subdued hate and fearful awe.

Skøld couldn’t care less, hiring a prostitute to take care of the boy he named Eldvanar for a year during the day and provide him enough milk until he could be weaned. During the intervening time, he continued to prospect and eventually found a new source of lead for the crystal works. The deposit revitalized the works and made the old man rich enough to continue with his experiments, with his percentage of earnings supplemented with the occasional bloodvine harvest. The color made from a brilliant red dye preferred by the church, the sap a powerful and controlled narcotic, and the fiber tough and insulating fabric. After the first year, Skøld took the young boy everywhere with him, and when he turned four, Skøld began expecting the young boy to begin learning and punishing him for failure. The beatings were the most severe for failing to remember the Skøld’s tales of gods and religion, like the man with fire for eyes, or the one-handed fighter with a sword for justice. The latter was in strict contrast to the old man’s bitter words and the back of his hand for failure.

Once Van could memorize a new tale a day, Skøld began his tattoo. Unlike the work of the rest of the Muraad had to reveal their heart’s truth, Van’s was to form a truth and a path. Beginning when Van was six years old until he was eight, the intricate working was Skøld’s masterpiece. At the time, the detailed scenes were not yet visible, and the completion represented the height of Van’s belief in the harsh old man. It also marked the beginning of some independence for the young boy. Allowed to visit the town, Van was not only ridiculed, but also beaten by some of the village boys. While Skøld began training the boy to fight, the doubt began to creep into Van’s mind. To the young boy, even Skøld’s harsh training and burgeoning skills couldn’t armor him from the attitudes and ideas of the villagers.

As the questioning began, the beatings grew worse. Skøld began to drink more and his work began to slip more, exacerbating the issue. As Van began to take over more the duties, crafting and hunting, Van lost faith in old Skøld. Even the spear training, of which the old man had peerless skill, was another excuse to break Van’s will and mold him into the mad dreams of the heretic. The grand ambitions to steal all the ether from the gods, tame the raging ice storms in the same way, and create gods out of men lost their appeal. If Skøld’s dreams of gods solely for humanity existed at all, why the world was covered in ice and only fractured gods of the titan of ice remaining? What proof was there for a titan of fire, and how could Skøld rekindle his essence at all? Other inconsistencies widened the cracks, and Skøld’s permission for solo hunting missions gave time for the young boy to brood sullenly. The final straw came when Skøld came home barely coherent from booze after a poor visitation to a local prostitute and began beating the boy in a black rage. Van was beaten so badly he couldn’t move for days, and in the coherent periods between the hazy periods of pain, he decide to run away. It took him six months to gather all the materials, craft the necessary goods, and cache it all away from the increasingly brutal and suspicious old man.

Van ran away at twelve during the waning of a brutal blizzard. Half his caches were lost but the stubborn youth refused to concede defeat. During the next three months he trekked towards what he thought was a large town to sell his skills. Unfortunately, his cartography was poor in comparison to his survival skills and become hopelessly lost. Half-starving, Van made the mistake straying into the expanding territory of a dire wolf pack. Luckily, the pack had also drawn the ire of the local monastery and a party of inquisitors were sent out to quell the threat. Drawn by the noise of Van defending himself, they rescued the boy from being savaged by a wounded wolf, with two dead pack members not far off.

The head of the party, Father Tovio Rolvson ordered to the boy to be treated and held at their camp for investigation. In a simple test of endurance to the cold, the simple brutal father ordered the bandaged youth exposed to the elements for the night to have Varya judge him for trespassing on their lord’s lands, even inadvertently. It would also conveniently save on paperwork if the boy died, as they could just report finding the youth frozen. Proving the Muraad legend true once again, Van managed to hang on through a mild storm with no more than a few minor cases frostbite. Father Tovio considered the sign versus the commensurate paper work and deemed that if truly was frostborn and loved by the gods, Varya would keep him alive through the rest of the hunt. Tovio outlined his plan simply, if Van managed to survive the hunt while essentially being bait, Tovio would overlook his offense, treat him, and would foster him.

Van soon realized that he had traded his old master for an even more brutal one. While he managed to barely survive the hunt, the brief three month stint at the monastery was less than pleasant. Food was still low, and Van was fed barely enough to survive in the icy halls. They worked him mercilessly doing scut work and instructing him for half a year in the tenets of Varya. Despite his extremely deficient starting point, the memorization ability drilled into Van by Skøld allowed him to catch up with ease. Soon Father Tovio decided to both ease his logistics concerns and garner points for a talented disciple and sent Van off to the Red Seminary.

Already inured to brutal conditions, the physical and mental training of the seminary was less of an issue to him with a few exceptions. Weak in the classical grounding most candidates imbibed from their families, Van struggled to initially excel. Similarly, his slight build and late growth spurt made training in most weapons painful, and Van concentrated on archery, the spear and the rifle in comparison to all else. The most difficult aspect of the seminary was neither of these things, but rather the social interaction and arts required to fit in. Frequent clashes with bullies, a tendency towards sullen brooding and a crippling issue with trust cause Van to struggle with making comrades. The few he does possess he defends with ruthless vigor.

Quote: Knowledge without power is useless. Power without knowledge is wasted. The only man to fear is one who possesses both.

P.S. I am still going to repost my first post with a few small changes. It deserves to be re-written though so I will have some time get on that.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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Good to see you here, DZ!
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Joos
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Name: Andronicus
Age: 20

Height/Weight: 6' 5", 70 kg

Race: Lanostran

Appearance: Andronicus 'the Tall' towers over most people at 6 feet and a half, and has a lean, crafted body. He has particularly long shanks. He has red hair and grey eyes.


Personality: The first thing that comes to mind is 'stubborn'. He is as stubborn as a mule and is almost impossible to budge. If he believes something to be right, then by all the Frozen Twelve of the Broken Pantheon, it is right! Raised in an extremely wealthy Lanostran family, he has always had his way in life. Things have come easy for him. His fluidity with the sword, his potential in working with ether - they are all natural gifts that many believe he doesn't deserve. He is, however, not as arrogant as gossip will have you believe. He has seen the light in Varya. His family had been fierce worshippers of Lanostre, but Andronicus doesn't see a dichotomy. To him, just as Lanostre willing gave herself up to Varya, so too must he willingly give to Varya. He identifies with the hunger, with the need to assimilate. In him burns a hunger for fame, for people to sing his praise. Some call him vain, but let them.

Talents/Ethereal Abilities: Andronicus is a well-versed player of the Lanostran flute and knows the words of A Frozen Heart in three languages. He is also a natural swordsman, able to move through postures with fluid grace. With regards to his magical abilities, he can forge a sword of ice to use in battle. He has recently learned the ability to send tiny sharp crystals of ice speeding through the air at an enemy.

(I don't know if this is too short. If you would like to see more detail, I will gladly edit my post. I love this RP idea and you have done a great job putting it all down. Not that I am influencing your decision or anything :) )
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Scout
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I'm reposting Kass now for you guys. ^_^ I replaced her picture, found a new Kassandra that was very fitting. c:
Name: “Mother” Kassandra Xenos

Age: 21

Height/Weight: 5’6, 142 lbs

Appearance: Kassandra has a rather sharp build to her. Her hair, as most of her being, is well-maintained, clean, and smooth. She remains crisp and proper, always formally clean – a trait she is told to have received from her mother’s side of the family. She covers herself as well, even when not in uniform, dressing in clothing very similar to the common apparel of a priest. Her weight is distributed as lean muscle throughout her body, but she isn’t a brute by any means, relying more on speed than pure strength. Her hazel eyes are soft and her cheeks are rather flush when compared to her lighter skin and hair.

(Click the picture for higher resolution)

Personality: Kassandra has a sharp tongue and a cold attitude, or at least that’s the impression she gives to most. Those who she actually shares a bond with, like quite a few of her fellow priests/priestesses, know that she is loyal and even, to some degree, caring. However, when in battle, focused on a mission, or around those she is not very familiar with, her cold, calculating attitude returns. Despite her slightly below-average height, she is confident and protective, despite being quiet in unfamiliar situations.

Kassandra wasn’t an ambitious youth, nor would one consider her to be as such while an adult. However, due to her circumstances, she has never shirked on her duty and strives to be the absolute best at whatever she is tasked with. Of course, this is still not to be confused with ambition – her entire life has been spent with having this idea of being the best drilled into her. Kassandra did not have a natural desire to climb the ladder of success, it was merely that her entire life has revolved around being the most respected, strongest figure she could be.

The priestess uses her faith and focus to avoid confronting any conflicts within herself that may go against her beliefs… Not only the temptations of drink or other pleasures, but those desires buried even deeper. By focusing on her work, she will never have to face the fear she holds – the fear of those desires being true. She’s found herself never able to connect beyond friendship with any man… And only has she felt attraction toward other women; these thoughts are the ones that she buries the deepest in her soul, locking them away so that not even she knows of them.

Talents/Abilities: Mother Xenos, like the others who have been accepted into priesthood, has become rather experienced in combat. Her own specialty lies in a falchion, which she wield in her right hand and keeps strapped to her back and, upon her left hand, a lightweight cestus of metal with small spiked plates near the knuckles. With the cestus, she wears a bracer that is a little on the heavier side, when compared to the common armour of the other priests, in order to help deflect and block attacks without the need for a shield, though it does lack the strength and durability of one.

On the magic side, Kassandra was slightly less blessed – she found difficulty in grasping the concepts she was taught and, while she tried her best, only managed to gain power over the most basic of abilities in the field. She has found, however, that her reflexes have a nearly sixth-sense feel to them, which is actually why she chose a falchion and cestus combination for her weaponry – a pair that is very rarely seen. It was also the reason she chose the bracer over a shield.

Background: Kassandra was never able to meet her biological mother. Her father rarely spoke of it before his own death, and her family is always very quiet whenever she would ask. However, the very little information she was able to collect told her that when she was young, her mother was actually kidnapped while alone in a nearby city and sold into human trafficking for a high price. Being of a lower noble family in La Nostre, as well as being rather attractive, she fetched a high price. The family, while esteemed in their small area, was not well-known throughout La Nostre and they were unable to pool the resources to look into what happened or retrieve her… It is likely that, by now, her body has been worn down into a laboring slave.

Mr. Xenos, Kassandra’s father, passed when she was young as well, but she was almost ten, so she can still clearly remember the man… He was kind and always warm-hearted. However, her memory does not serve her well always; there were nights where he would come home and not even acknowledge her presence… He smelled of spirits and would saunter to his study, lock the door, and not come out for hours… sometimes he would spend nearly two whole days in that room – coming out for perhaps a meal or two, or to search the cupboards for a fresh bottle. He never hit her, but Kassandra remembers having to care for herself on those days. He died in that office of what was later considered as some form of alcoholic overdose.

Life after that was much sterner, and Kassandra changed completely. She moved in with her grandmother and aunt. While her grandmother, Megaera, was not always capable of caring for herself and Kassandra’s aunt would help her, it seemed that the elderly woman held some form of disdain for her own daughter. Kassandra did not understand, but assumed it was because her aunt did not marry, despite being a grown woman. After Megaera’s death, Kassandra noticed that one of her aunt’s friends seemed to come to the house far more often, though perhaps it was just to help care for the young girl.

Her entire family had been instilling patriotism for La Nostre and the goddess that once guided them all… Even when she was young, she was resilient and steadfast in her own opinions, which were molded by her family, and her affinity for physical battle, she believes, comes from her devotion to that goddess. Of course, because of the time that had passed, no matter how short, it was undeniable that Varyan society had mixed with that of La Nostre, and so she still believed in the strength of Lord Varya.

It was more her aunt’s decision for her to go to the Red Seminary, but she was also told of the glory and the strength of character that came with becoming a priestess… Though Kassandra never told her aunt about the thoughts that had slowly been becoming part of her mind, she honestly believed that by becoming a priestess, she would be cleansed and could find herself… “fix” that part that she so desperately fought and locked away. Besides that,she knew that by becoming stronger, she would never be cursed with the fate that her mother was… The harder she worked, the farther she went, the stronger she became… All of these things would protect her, and more importantly, those around her… She couldn’t let somebody else be taken due to their own weakness. This was a burden she brought on herself after her mother’s death; her father’s passing as well, when he gave in to the temptations of alcohol and wallowing in his own depression; and finally, her grandmother, a bitter old woman who passed full of regrets which she could never express as well as a disdain for her daughter which, ultimately, caused the woman to stop taking such close care of her… All fates that were caused by weakness and which she had been powerless to stop. Never again would the priestess feel so weak and unable to control that which tore her family apart.

Quote: Weakness lies not in the mind, but in the soul. In order to crush it, you have to strengthen every part of your being.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Nightbringer
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Name:
Maksimylian (Max or Maxi) Markov

Age:
22

Height:
6'5"

Weight:
278 lbs

Appearance:


The first thing people usually see about Max is his frame; standing at 6'5", with a robust yet toned physique give him the stereotypical build of a soldier. Of late he has taken to wearing his hair, the colour of a dark umber, longer than the picture above shows, if only to shelter his ears from the cold and the rough winds. The second thing they tend to notice is his eyes, deep set and as icy-blue as the frozen oceans that surrounded Varya. Aside from that there isn't anything else particularly unusual about him. As a younger boy he was mocked for the size of his nose - it showed good breeding, his mother had always said - but as he aged, he grew into it, developing a prominent brow line adorned with two thick, dark brows. Though he allows his hair to grow, he keeps any trace of facial hair well-groomed, as his father always told him that it "wasn't fitting for a man of the cloth to have all that untidy fluff on his face".

When not fully-clad in his inquisitorial garb Maxi prefers a tunic and tabard combination, with leather boots and gloves. Given the rough colds of course, while outside he adorns himself in furs. As well as this, he wears a rosary around his neck at all times; an heirloom given to him by his father, representing the everlasting faith of the Markov family.

Personality:
Max is a determined sort. He will strive to get a task done, although he will insist on getting it done the way he wishes. Some people have said he was "blinkered by his own arrogance", while others say it is a sign of a strong will and good leadership. Either way, it's the way he has always been, and "if it's got you this far, it can't be that bad now, can it?". Max is also very loyal to his faith. He has been tempted by other members of his order to follow a path that may have been "easier", but he is a firm believer that "nothing good comes easily", and so sticks by his faith and his duties, following them by the book; while others may deviate from the original plan to potentially get things done with less effort, Max prefers to do what his faith has guided him to do which is normally also what he has been ordered to do, no matter whether others see it as the right or wrong thing to do.

As a person, Maxi is hard to break into. With people he doesn't know so well he tends to act cold and indifferent, but when one gets to know him well enough, he is a loyal and warm friend. Max loves to read; whether it be fiction, history books, books on tactical warfare, swordplay, smithing or anything else, if you name a book, Maxi has probably read it. His bookishness has left him with a wealth of historical knowledge, and vast lexicon of stories to be told if ever he and some friends were say, sat around a fire with nothing to listen to but the wind rushing past their ears. It has also left him with a very acute tactical mind. Because of this, as well as his "get things done my way" attitude, many see him as a potential leader in the future. Max takes this praise humbly though, preferring to focus on the present.

Max is also very jumpy; something that his friends have often taken advantage of.

Talents/Abilities:
Being a 6'5", 278lb man has its advantages as far as fighting is concerned. Maxi favours blunt weapons, usually a morning-star. His swings have been known to decapitate a man. However, because of his strength, and the ease with which he can overpower most opponents, he is not the most cautious fighter, often overswinging and leaving himself open, only just managing to get his shield up at the last second. Since becoming an Inquisitor he has been more acutely trained though, so he is less prone to do it these days, but against a smaller, more technical fighter he may struggle.

Background:
Born in Varya, raised in Varya, to Varyan parents. A father that was an Inquisitor before him, and deeply religious mother made Maxi a stalwart follower of the eponymous deity. His parents had many friends from the church, some of them fanatical followers of Varya. This deeply patriotic and religious attitude that his parents passed down left Maxi a bit xenophobic. He would not immediately reject anyone who was not Varyan, but he was slower to warm to them. With many people from Muraad and Lanostre inhabiting Varya nowadays, his attitudes have softened somewhat, but he was always more comfortable with people of his own kind.

His father being an Inquisitor, many said he was destined to follow in his father's footsteps. He began the training at the Red Seminary with aplomb, excelling through both the physical and mental toils. As he grew, however, Maxi began to question the faith which had been forced upon him. He began to associate with less pious individuals, when his days training was complete, he would even go so far as to take part in underground fighting rings amongst boys his ages. One fateful night, due to his mammoth frame - standing at six foot at fourteen years old - he beat another boy to death in one of these fighting rings. Though he was horrified by his actions, it didn't stop him, and he continued to stray from the righteous path, until his father was struck down with flux. His father was a tall, powerful man himself, the illness tore through him as though he were frail and old. His mother too, from tending to his father was stricken with this disease. It was then that Maxi knew that this was his divine punishment. He sat as his mother's bedside day and night. He prayed to Varya ceaselessly. He vowed to devote his life, his body, his soul to Varya if he could find the mercy to forgive his sins and to let his mother live. She did, and from then on there was never a doubt in Max's mind.

Quote:
"A sinner saved a believer makes. For only when one sees Varya's terror can one truly feel his mercy."
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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Great to see so many character sheets! :p

Joos, that's an awesome character, but could you create a Background section for him? I can't fault you for not including one, as I've just realized that I didn't include a Background section in the CS sheet. Thanks for the kind words about the RP as well!
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Girlie Go Boom
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Girlie Go Boom Hey~hey~!!

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Hiii!!^-^

Wows... this RP looks like all kinds of urshums ;D I'd like to apply, but it seems like you are waiting for some peeps you know to join up. Soooo... like just wondering how many spots are open to new RP'ers?
Thanks but... urms...Urps. Later~~!!
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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There are plenty of spots still open! We had a large cast last time and this go around will be no different, so I'll be accepting plenty of new people.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Girlie Go Boom
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Urshums...! And thanks ya! ;D K, this bunny gunna do a closer read on the infos and then toss in a charrie^^
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Lovejoy
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^Cool! Looking forward to it. :D
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Avery Calhoun
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Avery Calhoun I pick things up and I put them down.

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Name: Motya Bratva “Father Motya” or more formally “Father Bratva”
*Note: Motya means a man with bad luck but good sense and Bratva is the term for the Russian mob. I thought Bratva would translate well as "slave brotherhood" in Varyan dialect, a sort of generic name all slaves use.

Age: 22

Height/Weight: 5’7” and 250 pounds

Race: The Little Bear is Varyan as far as he and most others know but his blood is, in truth, half Omestri. Motya's understanding is that he was born a slave child, the spawn of criminally inclined Varyan parents that had been condemned to the mines and their sins had condemned Motya. The truth of the Little Bear's origins however is a much more... complicated "affair". The owner of the Harayatva mine that Motya was enslaved in was a man very loyal to the Red Seminary and the Inner Circle, a man who had paid for the honor of having his three sons attend the Seminary, all three of which have failed the trials at one point or another and now serve the clergy in other fashions. This industrialist had caught the Inner Circle's attention though and those attentions are seldom fruitful for anyone but the Inner Circle. The Circle had sent spies and agents into the industrialists business and private life and it was soon discovered that the lecherous industrialist had carnal tastes for Omestri slaves. He would use the slave women to satisfy his basest desires before harvesting the last of their ether and eliminating any testimony they could give to the rest of Varyan society, which would see the coupling of a Varyan man and Omestri slave as an unfathomable sin under any circumstance.

One day, after the industrialist had sated his vast and abusive desires on an Omestri slave girl, he was ready to harvest her ether and extinguish her life. Before he could finish the process though a Watcher appeared in the industrialists private and very secure chambers with no explanation as to how it had gotten there. The diminutive figure, cloaked in heavy gore colored robes that obscured all but its most basic and small humanoid form, approached the slave girl whilst holding the industrialist in check by virtue of being a direct agent of the Inner Circle. The Watcher almost tenderly touched the sadistic bruises and shallow cuts on the girl and then placed a hand on her belly. After its hand lingered briefly, the Watcher removed the slave girl from the harvesting mechanism, left a parchment sealed with the Inner Circle's signet with the industrialist, and disappeared into the growing shadows of the night without once begin seen by any other Varyan except the industrialist. With trembling hands, for he feared his secret exposed, the Industrialist opened the missive from the Circle, the signet seal crumbling to dust, and he read its words.

We are the keepers of secrets, as you must now be.
Tell anyone of this night and you both will die before the following hour is ended.
Tell anyone of the Watcher's visit or your lust for your property and both their family and your's will die before the following two hours have ended.
Open your lips and you will bring ruin to all you know before their time is due.
You have interjected yourself into our web, remain still and hold your course and you will draw very little of our attentions.
If you struggle or disobey, only Varya will save you from our attentions.


Moments after his reading of each line the ink on the parchment bled from its lettered form becoming nothing more then crimson colored blobs on cheap paper which was tossed into the ether engine that warmed his chambers.

The Watcher returned the Omestri slave girl to the Red Seminary and under the careful eye of the Inner Circle she gave birth to a half blood Varyan Omestri child. Later the Watcher returned to the Harayatva Mines but he did not visit the Industrialist. Instead, deep in the mines, the Watcher seemed to appear from the darkest shadows surrounding the crowded slave encampment. Stepping from the dusty steam filled recesses, the watcher approached a young Varyan couple that had been recently imprisoned and enslaved for crimes against the church, heresy. The Watcher sat with them for a moments time before delivering a burlap wrapped bundle. The Watcher had spent the time informing the couple that as long as they kept the contents of the bundle alive, their families, tainted by heresy, would not be hunted down and executed. The couple opened the bundle and saw the cherubic face of an infant, sleeping soundly in their arms.

Motya would grow in the mines as a child, knowing only his parents protection but never their love, he would be scarred and tattooed by the guards employed by his biological Father that was just as unaware of the child as Motya was of him. One day a young, beautiful, fervent, and newly ordained Inquisitor named Mother Oksana received an assignment directly from the Inner Circle, one that would have her raid the Industrialists holdings, execute the Industrialist, free the children from the slavery their parents had been sentenced to, and retrieve one child in particular, a youth with an amber tinge to his eyes and whose slave "parents" were not to survive the encounter. Mother Oksana performed flawlessly. She returned the child named Motya to the Red Seminary where she became like a Mother unto him as the Inner Circle monitored his progression through Inquisitorial training

Appearance: Motya is a brute of a young man. Compared to most of his peers he is inches shorter but significantly more massive and he is often called the little bear by the people that know him well enough to get away with such a practice. The young brawler’s arms are slabs of corded muscle attached to shoulders that have born the weight of harsh labor and his hands show the trauma and scarring of multiple finger breaks. His legs, built from years of slave labor and inquisitorial training, are just short of being small tree trunks and they need to be in order to hold up the man’s powerful and wide torso. Motya keeps his head clean shaven and his cheeks and chin are covered in a wild and long golden beard. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown color and shadowed under a heavy set brow. Both his nose and ears are just slightly large, the former looking to have been misaligned by force, the later pierced through with brass rings. The most distinguishing feature of Motya’s countenance is the large stylized “H shaped” tattoo that covers his face, a mark placed on him by the slave masters of the Harayatva mine he was born in, marking him as a slave born child. Various priests have offered to remove it through mechanical or magical means but Motya has refused, in fact as he has grown he has maintained the tattooed mark. He not only sees it as a symbol of how far he has risen but as a way to identify with his favored flock, the poor and the slaves, showing that even they and those like them can rise through Varya's will.



Motya has risen from those beginnings though and now being an ordained Inquisitor, wears the trappings of his office over the hap-shod armor pieces he tends to favor. Under the armor or when not wearing it, Motya wears the simple fur and cloth clothing of the lower caste of Varyan society with the monastic inquisitorial robe over those to denote his station. His armor is an amalgamation of steel, brass, clockwork, and leather that was cobbled together by a tinkerer at the Seminary, a gift after he was ordained. Heavy shoulder plates cover his shoulders, the right containing a bauble filled with earth from the mine he grew up in, a brass face guard chipped and pocked by weapons practice, leather gauntlets banded with razor edged steel strips, plated knuckles, and lined with small pistons, boots and greaves studded with steel posts and pointed edges, all wrapped in a tabard of supple black fabric trimmed in red and bearing the phoenix of Varyan priesthood.

Personality: Motya’s time as a slave has been the single largest shaping factor of his personality except his time at the Red Seminary. He is industrious and focused, almost bullishly so, always training or maintaining whatever skills he possesses. Above all he maintains a fervent and unshakable faith. For Motya, his faith and his connection with Varya is personal and not just theological, it was an inquisitorial priestess that saved him from the mines, elevated him from a life of slavery, and set him upon the path of serving, what he sees, as the greatest of Gods. While being serious about his faith Motya believes that all people should revel in the gift of life the God Varya provides, while it exists, in this harsh world. He is fond of food, drink, music, and women and good natured simplistic, often physical, competition. Motya is a man that sees every moment as a gift, either to be spent testing ones Varyan given talents or more appropriately, in gregarious celebration, for him there is little middle ground between those two. Despite his zealous faith and nearly hedonistic abandon Motya is a tempest defined when angered. His anger is quick to rise and quick to fade and terrible to behold, he thinks little of correcting a slight, real or perceived, with physical force. His bouts of rage, especially in the first years of his training were often rumored to be the thing that would see his time in the Red Seminary ended prematurely. His violent temper is something he struggles to maintain through faith and the companionship of his fellow Inquisitors.

Talents/Abilities: Motya is a brawler first and foremost, capable of reaping a devastating toll with just his hands, feet, and body. Most of the close physical combat disciplines taught at the Red Seminary came easily to Motya and he excelled in the lessons, despite the fact the many of the first lessons nearly killed him. The key to this talent is Motya’s ability to channel Ether within himself, lending his movements, strikes, and abilities an enhancement over natural physical abilities. His favored tactic is closing with an enemy, disarming them, and then pulverizing their resistance with physical blows or grappling, which ends up very bloody due to the nature of his armor. The cost for this is not only Motya’s reckless disregard for his own safety, something amplified when he channels the Ether but his comparative lack of refined social skills or mastery of the more academic subjects.

Background: Motya believes he was born a slave, to a slave mother and father that protected him but never really loved him; the name "Bratva" means slave born or slave brotherhood and is a generic family name of all slaves born in the mines. The Harayatva mine was his home for his infancy and early childhood and he was marked as a child of slaves before he was a year old. The Harayatva mines were run by a wealthy Varyan Industrialist who disbelieved in much of the new technology appearing and held to the idea of “breeding” a workforce. For years this idea was socially detestable but the wealth and influence of the Industrialist insulated him from open sanction of this practice. That was before Mother Oksana. Mother Oksana was a young Inquisition priestess that had been ordained only a few short years before and began her career by taking on the corrupt Industrialist. Motya believes it was her personal quest but the hand of the Inner Circle was what truly moved Mother Oksana. She preached that Varya would never condone the enslavement of children into a life of meaningless labor and toil when it could be these children that rise up to carry out his will in the future. Her message took hold with the low caste people and before long, soldiers were raiding the holdings of this Industrialist and freeing the children he enslaved for the crimes of their "birth". Motya, then a child of seven, was delivered to the Red Seminary by Mother Oksana and was soon on the path to becoming an inquisitor. To this day when she returns to the Red Seminary she treats Motya as she would a son and Motya treats Mother Oksana like she were his actual mother and that bond between the two in nigh unshakable.

His time at the Seminary was brutal but when compared to what his life had been in the mines, it was his only chance. His courses in academia were a struggle and had it not been for some of his colleagues he would have never been ordained. On the bright side the punishing discipline enforced by the instructors for his academic failures only hardened his body and mind for what he excelled at, physical training. Motya found peace in the ceaseless combat drills which he took part in at every opportunity he could. Years spent training reinforced his faith, giving him the will and if necessary the physical ability to spread the faith and fight the enemies of the faith wherever they may be, something Motya is now eager to do.

Quote: “Do you think, because you are poor, obscure, plain and little, that you are soulless and heartless? No, you are the most divine of all subjects.”

Motya's Inquisitorial Seal & Banner: The seal was a design created by an artisan that worked in the town center within the Red Seminary walls. It was a series of five pieces that Mother Oksana had commissioned so that she could present them as a gift to Motya upon the completion of his training. The first and most plain piece is a heavy iron signet ring that Motya wears when not wearing his armored fists. He uses this to seal what little correspondence that is sent out in his name by his squad or actually sent out by him. The next three pieces are heavy brass, iron, and blackened steel fasteners that replace the fasteners typically found on Inquisitorial robes. They are each palm sized brass and iron disks with the mailed fist rendered in the blackened steel and serving as the fastener for the cloth of the robes, one at each shoulder and another at his left hip along the belt line. The last piece of the set is the only piece of ostentation that Motya possesses and he only keeps it because it came from Mother Oksana. On a heavy chain of bluish-green ethereally treated metal hangs a fist sized rendition of the seal in the picture below. The disk is made from unpolished, rough, and golden colored Ostra (a metal known for its ability to hold ether) while the black ring is blackened steel and the fist is cut from a single piece of onyx. The cutting and craftsmanship put into rendering the fist in onyx is masterful work and the fist itself also serves as an ether reservoir, much like ether vials, causing the fist to give off a dull muted golden glow when full.

The banner is an affection made by the squad of soldiers that Motya took as his own before the trip to El began. This banner now hangs wherever the squad goes and also adorns their armor and weapons.



Relationships (WIP):

Mother Kassandra:

Father Eldvanar:

Father Markov:

Father Nasir:

Father Mal:

Father Xenophan:
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Scout
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Ahh, comrade!! It is good to see our brother Motya returned to us so punctually. How doth he bade? XD

Good to see ya, Avery! :D That hider at the top, should there be anything in it? The box will expand, but it's empty for me. O.o

Scratch that, now it works - BiB by AC/DC, nice. XD
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Avery Calhoun
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Comrade Motya is as he always was, thirsting for wine, women, war, and song... in that order, he is a terrible singer.

Glad the hider worked, I had trouble with it too at first.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Scout
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Indeed. Sounds like quite the life! Too bad for him, Kassandra would permanently avoid his sights.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Avery Calhoun
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Avery Calhoun I pick things up and I put them down.

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Meh, the character banter is more entertaining that way and fits better with the militaristic setting.
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Scout
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Oh that is so truuuue. XD I love what we have for Motya and Kass. It's just fun to play. :p

Is anybody else pumped for FFXV? XD
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