[CHAR] The Island That Died

[Epsir]

Character example and NPC booklet:

I'll be placing NPCs here when they are encountered, and also as an example of tone and format. There is no requirement for character sheet length, but descriptiveness is always a plus.

Name: Iris Renee Lackeye
Age: 24
Gender: Female

Appearance: Standing at 169cm (5'6") tall, Iris' height is average and her weight follows suit. She has a slim build, with just enough muscle on her frame from training to disguise her thinness. She has about her a feminine elegance that complements a womanly figure. Her skin is pale by nature, but tanned a lively and warm peach color. It can be quite sensitive, and she bruises and flushes at the slighest provocations. Iris bears only one notable scar, a thin pale line slashing her left temple that reaches down to her cheekbone. She has an oval shaped face, with a defined but gently shaped jawline. Her button nose is on the small side, and it matches a dainty set of lips with a disposition towards smiling. She has soft, almond shaped eyes with an easygoing bearing. She often appears joyful as a result. They are a pale violet blue coloration, a striking color that is similar to a certain species of iris that grows in her homeland, for which she was given her name. They often make her appear relaxed or sleepy regardless of her actual feelings, and much like the rest of her face they carry a faint spark of happiness. Her hair is long and sprawling, hanging past her shoulders and down over her forehead in gracefully curling tendrils. It is darkly colored, with a soft glossy texture. Not quite black, Iris' hair has a subtle tinge of blue that has been mixed in amongst her snaking locks.

Clothing (Uniform): Iris wears an Army Officer's uniform of the Pomrian Republican Army, typically in full dress and always the female variant. It is fairly standard military regalia, consisting of trousers and a jacket worn over a standard dress shirt. Her trousers are black in color, woven from a durable material intended for a harsh life of service. Despite a dressy, creased exterior they are reinforced at the knee and possess robust belt loops compliant with the belts used by Pomrian military uniforms. The fit of their legs is slim, but their cuffs are wide enough to be worn over boots. Her shirt is white and secured by small silver buttons. Its neatly folded collar is held firm by a bright red tie, always hidden underneath her jacket. The sleeves end in frilled lace cuffs, with a pattern that is also repeated on its breast pocket. Iris' officer's jacket is navy blue and double breasted, lined with broad black buttons. It has a subdued design, with a low profile collar and only twin black bands above either wrist for decoration. Her is devoid of ribbons or decorations other than the silver badge of a propaganda officer over the left breast. It bears a pocket at either hip, for utility. For footwear, Iris has a pair of stock standard black boots. Their soles are made of hardened rubber, etched with a pattern of repeated chevrons favored for performance on slippery surfaces like a ship's deck. They ride at just under knee height, with forward facing laces done up in a no-nonsense crossed pattern. They are securely tight, and obviously worn from use despite the fresh polish.

Belongings: Iris carries very little on her person. A billfold containing her identification papers and travelling documentation is kept in her pants or jacket pocket, but the leather carrying case serves little other practical purpose than holding whatever spare change she has.

Personality; Iris has a tendency towards rambunctiousness. She has an easygoing bearing towards others, which she often unthinkingly assumes will be reciprocated. The result was, for most of her life, a girl too inclined towards mischief and tomfoolery for her own good. Age has mellowed her only slightly, as she retains a healthy appreciation for sharing a laugh and her unabashed openness has lead her to rapidly establish relationships with those around her. Working in public relations has only honed that tendency of hers, and what she once unconsciously did as a matter of personality and perhaps interpersonal longing has become a tool for winning hearts and minds. There is little differentiation in the way Iris acts around new acquaintances and her close friends, as she often has little time to differentiate either to herself. Despite her outgoing transparency and social habits, it is true that Iris is only well experienced in superficial relationships and she finds herself at a loss for expressing things that are not necessarily 'working the crowd.' She gets along well with people she can play off the personality of, such as those who are driven enough to set their own pace in a conversation or people like her, coasting through life, who are willing to have one set for them. While her capacity for hate is exceedingly low, a matter of job-training and her own whimsical nature, she dislikes people who take things too seriously and sees them as stifling the atmosphere she thrives in. Her primary strength is in her adaptable character, she loves interacting with people and in doing has gathered a passable understanding of them, if not herself.

History: Iris was born and raised on the island republic of Pomria, a prominent trade power and sole occupant of what would better be termed a miniature continent. As a historically independent nation and an island at that, it boasts an impressive navy maintained by a practice of compulsory service. She attended school with the intent of studying politics and securing herself a role as a diplomat in any country other than the one she had lived in for all her life. As with most youthful plans, her interests changed. During her conscription in the Republican Army, which she spent in academy seeking an officer's commission, she decided to stay on with the military. Without much of a head for strategy and without the stomach to be a sailor, Officer Cadet Lackeye was destined for service within the massive backend of the military. As a charismatic young woman, Iris found herself whisked into recruitment and public affairs without much of a choice in the matter and a comfortable paycheck for someone whose job was to be happy about her job. Her task was to serve as one of many public faces for the military, doing essentially what was done to her and gathering long term enlistees to fuel the professional components of the military as well as appearing before the press. It was not exactly what she had imagined she would be doing. Lackeye had been anticipating combative service as a company officer, but as someone who had prepared to be a capable soldier she had no trouble adapting a capable soldier's persona in front of the world. She is moderately well known in her homeland, though more by face than name, and has steadily crept into favor with the vast majority of her colleagues. In a remarkably roundabout way, her devout service to the Public Relations Group of the Republican Army has allowed her to realize her childhood dream. As a seasoned spokeswoman, she has seen herself deployed as a propaganda officer to distant embassies and garrisons more and more often. Iris boarded the Crosswind under routine orders, joined by two other civilian military personnel unaffiliated with her to be sent to some facet of Pomrian government property overseas.

[DrowsyPangolin]

Name: Oliver Rennalt

Age: 26

Gender:Male

Appearance: Oliver is a thin, lanky man of just above average height. He has very little bulk about his frame, but a fair amount of lean muscle clings tightly to his bones. Though he was likely always a thin man, his vagrant lifestyle and lack of nutrition probably have only served to further this almost sickly state. His skin is an extremely pale, almost chalky white. Because of his fair complexion, he often bears sunburns, typically situated across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The man's features are not overly pronounced, and though they are not necessarily soft, they certainly provide no sense of charisma or confidence. Oliver's eyes are a deep shade of violet, the color of the horizon just before the sun fully sinks below it. An image of faint sadness and contemplation remains permanently engraved upon his visage like an invisible scar. Despite his nomadic lifestyle as of late, he keeps his physical appearance relatively controlled. His face is smooth-shaven, though he tends to grow little in the way of facial hair as it is. His hair is quite long, but neatly combed, reaching nearly to his shoulders and framing his face with a neat part slightly left of center. His hair also has the peculiarity of being nearly perfectly white. Though it is common for his countrymen to bear fair locks, snow white is often a shade reserved for the old, and a trait that often garnered (sometimes unwanted) attention in his younger years.

Oliver's clothing is simple and tidy. A pair of rectangular spectacles aid his poor eyesight and rest comfortably on his nose. The glasses have a thin rim fashioned from wire, with a charcoal grey finish. Around his neck he wears a delicate necklace made of fine silver attached to a carefully engraved locket of the same material. A single amethyst is inset in the center of the locket, and when opened it reveals a small portrait of a young woman. He wears a loose-fitting shirt made of white cotton, a comfortable fit for his frame. The shirt's sleeves are rolled up neatly to just below the elbow, and the garment fastens with a row of pearl button running up the center. Over the shirt, Oliver wears a vest made of a resilient fabric dyed a shade of deep blue. The article is fairly simple, fastening with a row of copper buttons and bearing no decoration other than a pocket at the left breast. For leggings, Oliver wears a pair of black trousers fastened with a black leather belt. The belt fastens with an undecorated copper buckle. His shirt is tucked into his waistline. On his feet, Oliver wears a pair of comfortable traveling boots with a slight heel and pointed toes.

The pale man's hands and forearms are nearly always wrapped in white bandages up to the elbow. These are not for any sort of injury, though they may give off that impression. Oliver wraps his hands to hide a series of tattooed symbols running up each arm. The symbols are imprinted on his arms in thick black ink. On the back of each hand is the symbol of a crescent moon, an important emblem to the people of his homeland. From there, the tattoos stretch down the backs of his forearms in ornate lettering. The symbols are written in Old Crethian, a language rarely used outside of religious ceremonies. Translated, the inscription reads as follows:

'Blessed is he who would defend the Faith. Unto him I shall grant hands of iron, so that he may bring forth judgment unto those who would defy me.'

Weapons: Oliver carries little in the way of physical weaponry. He was, however, trained thoroughly in the ways of martial arts. Though this would make him a capable combatant in hand-to-hand combat, a peculiar modification to his body makes him just as effective as an armed man, perhaps even more so. When he took his holy vow to serve the Church, he was given a power to defend the Faith. As a young man, he underwent a long and painful ritual to alter his physical being. The exact process used to change Oliver, and other soldier-priests of the Church of Rivers, is a well-kept secret, allegedly involving acts both scientific and arcane. The Church claims it is a miracle granted only to those worthy to defend the Faith, though they are quick to strip this honor away from any who have abandoned their path.

The ritual drew upon a literal interpretation of an ancient sacrament. It was said that the Goddess of Rivers would grant her followers 'hands of iron' to defend her laws and her people. In essence, this matches very closely with the actual result. Oliver's arms, from the elbow down, have been hardened to a point far beyond the boundaries of human flesh. Able to clash against steel blades with only the smallest of wear, the process made the former priest's hands formidable weapons in their own right.

In a sense, the miracle that was placed upon Oliver's hands is both a blessing and a curse. It gave him a weapon that he could not lose, but it also made him that weapon. He retained (or rather, relearned) full function of both limbs, even being able to perform precise work with his fingertips, but his sense of touch was almost completely removed. He can make out the basic shape of an object, and is physically capable of most tasks, but it was only through rigorous training that he regained basic human functions. Even a great pain in the effected area is felt as little more than the bite of an insect, and anything less is eclipsed by a constant numbness. Though damage to the hardened limbs is rare, injuries seem to heal as they normally would.

Belongings: As a wanderer, Oliver has learned to carry his home on his back. While traveling, he tends to carry a large pack slung across his back by means of a rope. The pack itself is little more than a large leather sack. Within the pack, Oliver carries various essential tools. These items include a small medical kit, a needle and thread, a razor for shaving, a small utility knife, matches, line and hook for fishing, and a simple cooking setup. In addition to these necessary items, he also carries a journal and a few utensils for writing.

Personality: A shadow of melancholia seems to follow Oliver wherever he goes. Though his words may not always convey it, a deep sadness always seems to lie just beneath the surface of his being, a hole left by a loss to great to be filled. Though he sees to way to fill this void, his life currently revolves around mending it as best he can, and thus he is typically fairly kindhearted to those around him, helping when he can. Though he carries a deep disillusionment and pessimism within him, he tries to hold these feelings to himself instead of projecting them onto others. He is usually a quiet and contemplative man, regularly getting lost within his own thoughts. He sleeps very little, often traveling through the night, and is thus quite comfortable with silence. He is fairly intelligent, and is not quick to escalate a situation. He tends to see violence as a last resort, viewing the taking of life as unnecessary and wasteful.

History: Oliver was born in Creth, a distant island city-state with only occasional contact with the outside world. The island, a theocracy, was governed by the Church of Rivers, an institution tracing its roots back to Creth's birth. Oliver, an orphan, was raised by the Church. Told the Goddess had a plan for him from a young age, the boy decided to become a priest. After a great deal of work, his dream was achieved. He was acknowledge by his peers as a pious and hardworking young man, dedicating the great majority of his time to religious affairs and charity. Having no standing military, the priests of the Church of Rivers often served as enforcers for the faith when the need arose. Oliver was deemed a perfect candidate for such a position and went through a rigorous, arguably torturous, training process spanning several years. Following the completion of his training, he served the Faith in new ways, dealing out the Goddess' justice upon criminals and heretics.

His time was almost entirely spent in his work, until, by chance, he met a young woman named Isabel. He quickly fell in love with her, and as soon as his duties would allow, they were wed. Though he was often busy, Oliver spent as much time with his beloved as he could. After some time, the couple had a child, a boy. Though he had found fulfillment in his work for the Church, with his wife and child Oliver found true happiness. With his family, Oliver came to know a joy he had never before experienced. He felt his humanity.

Oliver's joy, however, was doomed to be short-lived. While away on business for the Church, he heard that a devastating plague was spreading throughout Creth. Worried for his family, the priest made haste in returning home. When he arrived, however, he learned the true horror of the situation: the plague had killed hundreds, and Creth's capital had been quarantined to prevent the disease from spreading. Overcome with worry, Oliver discreetly entered the city despite the quarantine and rushed home. He found his wife on her death bed. He learned from her that their son had been taken by the sickness a few weeks before. Staying by his beloved's bedside through her final hours, Oliver felt the entire world he had built up around him come crashing down.

Broken by the loss of his family, Oliver left his home behind. He cursed the plague for taking his family, he cursed his Goddess for not protecting them, and he cursed fate for forcing him to go on living. His faith was shattered, and abandoned his beliefs along with his home. Returning to Creth was not an option, as the Church did not look kindly upon those who abandoned the Faith, not that he had any intention of coming back. He set off on a journey with no destination, searching for any sort of truth or explanation that might ease the pain of his loss. Aimlessly, he wandered from town to town, a man with no home and nothing to believe in.

[Gentlemanvaultboy]

Name: Deacon Marconi
Age: 47
Gender: Male

Appearance: A tall, broadly built man, Bald with dark blue eyes and skin that's deeply tanned and weathered from years of travel. He would have been quite handsome a few years and a couple of pounds ago, but age appears to have started biting at him something fierce. The most apparent thing about his face and the deep bags under his eyes.

Clothing/Armor: Black pants held up by suspenders, white shirt, black overcoat which appear to have been modified to have many more pockets that normal. Black shoes, meticulously shined. Black half cape worn over the left shoulder. Wears rings on all his fingers, each bearing the seal of a different secret society or fringe order, as well as over a dozen holy symbols on a necklace around his neck.

Belongings/Weapons: A black cane sword. A trunk, clung to for deer life, that contains his extra clothing, journals and notes, books on world religions and mysticism, alcohol, a shaving kit, pictures of his wives, a eclectic collection of drugs, candles, a silver chalice, a gold plated serpent, and a potato he had stolen from the ships kitchen.

Personality: Marconi would describe himself as a seeker of universal truth, and to a degree this is true. He is of an open and inquisitive mind, constantly seeking out new experiences and perspectives. However, how much of this can be attributed to simple hedonism is up for debate. He revels in excess and experience, and cares not for what other people think of him. His guiding philosophy is that one should do what one wants regardless of the consequences, and as such he doesn't hold other peoples actions against them or make judgements on their character. He is extremely hard to anger or repulse, and is genial regardless of who he is talking to. He is easy to befriend, but it is also extremely easy for him to cast friends aside when they become too burdensome. He enjoys his reputation as a wicked man and intentionally plays it up in public because he enjoys the reactions he receives. Despite his reputation he does not enjoy the sight of blood.

History: Deacon Marconi was born in the Sleythym empire to a rich, aristocratic family. His father was a whiskey magnate and alcoholic. His mother was a devout follower of Pricepia, the goddess of prudence and Order. After Marconi's father died in a boiler explosion the boys mother retreated into her religion, joining an extremely conservative fringe Pricepia church. She became inordinately controlling of her sons life, not allowing Marconi to leave the family manor and sheltering him from the evils of the world. If left to this he probably would have ended up a high priest or greater in the church. This was not to be.

Like most religious aspirations what derailed him from this path was sweet sweet sex. A dalliance with a maid at the age of fourteen opened his eyes to "all the joys of the world" and from that moment on he began to sneak out of his home and explore the wonders that the capital had to offer. For sometimes months at a time he would vanish, whoring, gambling, running with street gangs, returning many times blackened, bruised, and utterly broke. It was during one of these disappearances that he became involved in the Order of The Great Worm. He had never been able to completely shake the interest in religion he'd acquired from his mothers upbringing and made it fairly high within the cult before church inquisitors kicked in the door and began arresting people. This he evaded by hiding behind the door and slipping away in the chaos.

It is around this point that worry over his immortal soul began to drive Marconi's mother mad. Partly to placate her, and partly because he liked what he had seen of the inquisitors, he joined the clergy at the age of eighteen. He made Inquisitor at twenty one, covering any of his indiscretions with bribes and favors, and spent three years hunting seditious cults before his mother died and left him the estate. Having become bored of his position he confessed the misdeeds he'd perpetrated while acting as an Inquisitor, as well as naming everyone whom he'd bribed to look the other way, to three separate newspapers and was expelled from the clergy.

At twenty five he began attending Sleythym National University, graduating with honors in the fields of anthropology and religious studies at twenty eight. During this time he became deeply involved with the Six Circle Brotherhood, an order of mystics and wizards dedicated to commanding the forces of evil for the good of all mankind. He was thrown out of this order when he attempted a six month long ritual designed to summon all the evils of the world to face the caster and giving up two months on because the conditions of the ritual, particularly abstaining from things such as cooked food and sex, were not to his liking.

The consequence of breaking off this ritual was to be possessed by one hundred devils. The Brotherhood didn't really notice any changes in his behavior, but decided to err of the side of caution because how could you really tell with him?

After University he began traveling the world studying fringe religions and cults, on the basis that if any mainstream religion was the path to universal truth they'd have got there already. His peers pointed out that this was probably just an excuse for him to partake in heathen rituals, consume a truly heroic amount of drugs, and make love to the natives. Marconi replied that he never said his studies didn't have side benefits.

Since then he has written four books (three on the practices and beliefs of fringe religion and one of truly awful poetry), been married twice (both ending in divorce due to his rampant philandering, with one of his wives going mad afterwards), climbed one of the worlds largest mountains to study with the Yogi who lived atop it, killed seven men (two church assassins, three regular assassins, one jilted lover, and one dear friend who'd insisted on it), had deep religious experiences connected to many gods, thrown three legendary parties at his family manor, and cultivated a reputation as the wickedest man in Sleythym.

Before being shipwrecked he'd been on his way to the isle of Baha-Nan to live among the native Serpent Riders for half a year.

[Sightles]

bio res