Arlear Member
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Arlear
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 380 (0.10 / day)
- VMs: 0
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Username history
- Arlear 11 yrs ago
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User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
*Shrug* Didn't say it was practical. Just doable. Personally I'll stick to a nice simple shortsword and parrying dagger at the belt.
Oh! Albireo. I have a solution to that.
A lesser known invention of some excellent use. Exceedingly simple, but it allows massive weapons to be carried on the back- Something that actually makes sense, given that they would drag on the ground if worn at the hip. Many sheathes for blades that size were actually only partial sheathes. The lip still locked into the chappe to keep it in place, but for about half of the sheathe's length there was no outer edge, meaning you could pull the sword -part- way out and then simply pull it from the side, no need to draw it out the entire length and break the laws of how long arms are. It was fairly popular for bastard swords and greatswords, due to their general blade length. Admittedly, this also meant extra maintenance on the blade and sheath due to them being partially open to the elements compared to full sheathes, but it still made larger weapons easier to draw.
A lesser known invention of some excellent use. Exceedingly simple, but it allows massive weapons to be carried on the back- Something that actually makes sense, given that they would drag on the ground if worn at the hip. Many sheathes for blades that size were actually only partial sheathes. The lip still locked into the chappe to keep it in place, but for about half of the sheathe's length there was no outer edge, meaning you could pull the sword -part- way out and then simply pull it from the side, no need to draw it out the entire length and break the laws of how long arms are. It was fairly popular for bastard swords and greatswords, due to their general blade length. Admittedly, this also meant extra maintenance on the blade and sheath due to them being partially open to the elements compared to full sheathes, but it still made larger weapons easier to draw.
Naw, I intended for him to be a middle-aged fellow. ^^ Lived before, through, and after the war. Leaves lots of interesting things to learn over time, yeah~?
Sorry, computer went poof-poof for a few days there. Had to install a new graphics card and give her a thorough cleaning. Am back now.
And ready to begin.
Whenever we do.
And ready to begin.
Whenever we do.
*Drops into chat spidey-style, all upside down and shit*
Hello, fellow people!
I like pie.
This was a post to remind Celest that I am still here for whenever we start. I just don't have a comment. *Nod*
That will be all.
Hello, fellow people!
I like pie.
This was a post to remind Celest that I am still here for whenever we start. I just don't have a comment. *Nod*
That will be all.
Here. Have an Arlear character, Celest~.
Real World
Name:
Alexander Praelor
Birthday:
January 13, 2025
Appearance:
Standing at 5'9" and built lightly, Alex seems to be... Well, your average, normal, every-day kind of guy! While he isn't particularly bad looking, and has eyes about as green as a peridot gem, he also goes to lengths to go un-noticed in the real world, often dressing in completely unremarkable clothing, walking with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted down, just another unremarkable soul in the city, not to be thought about twice. While he'd never admit to it, he has to dye his hair to keep it at the dark brown it was in his younger years, having gone salt-and-pepper fairly early in life... And nearly all grey in these days. Without the dye, at least. If one were to -actually- catch him without a shirt, they would find him to possess a surprising tone for his size... And a large number of scars, big and small. Kind of takes away from the attractiveness.
Occupation:
Musician, WWIII Veteran.
Biography:
Alexander lived a fairly normal life up until his twenties. He was born in a nice town in Canada in the middle of January, during a blizzard. He tends to joke that he was then forced to walk home as an infant. Up hill. In ten feet of snow. Naked. Both ways. Twice. In truth, all went without complication, and despite power-flickers in the hospital during the storm, he came into the world without a problem, and two days later was taken to the home that he would live in for the next eighteen years. Elementary, middle, and highschool all went fairly well for him- He was a smart individual. No genius, certainly, but he managed mostly A's and B's, a C popping up here and there. However, early in Middle School, he discovered his talent for music and language- Learning French, German, and even a bit of Latin in his free-time for fun, and focusing on learning to play the base guitar, guitar, and piano through highschool. There were no traumatizing events- His parents are still alive, he was never bullied, he had friends, he had rivals.
He was normal.
And then, inevitably, disaster struck. Just before he went south into the U.S.A to attend a prestigious musical college program, WWIII broke out, and he made a different choice- He enlisted in the military. With the sudden massive need for troops, he didn't have a hard time getting in. And yet, unlike some, he had no delusions of glory in this matter. He didn't climb the ranks and become a hero, nor did he hide in a corner for the entire war. No, he fought to protect his home and his family, putting his survival down to raw -luck- through those years. However, he did not come out unscathed. Injuries were plentiful, leaving him scarred both physically and mentally. But, those were things he could move past. He was still young, he recovered quickly, there was no real lasting damage- Therapy for his mind and body solved those problems, over time.
But what left a truly lasting mark was the initial nuclear fallout from those first bombs that scorched the skies before a ceasefire was finally called. While he was lucky enough to not be close enough to one of those first bombs to be completely obliterated, he didn't manage to outrun the fallout, radiation poisoning blackening his blood and weakening his body. All the therapy in the world couldn't completely erase that damage from him, even if medication did keep it at bay and allow him to live a, mostly, healthy life. Occasionally, he still finds the headaches to pound at his skull, blood running from his nose and body going weak, practically helpless lest he downs his emergency medications. On the worst days, he ends up hospitalized, blackened blood from nose and ears a definite sign that the poisoning was catching up with him that day.
And yet, he forced himself to live on. Only doctors and close friends ever learned from him what his ailment was, and he worked for his living as a musician in the post-war times. He felt he'd lived for that reason, to use his gift of music after the nuclear warfare and lift what spirits were left with various forms of music, from country to blues to old school rock. He made his living with music, and felt that he was keeping others from the depths of despair with the same.
And then came Dust.
Dust Persona
Alias:
Muse
Style of Play:
Bard-sassin. The most epic fusion of assassin and bard! First he rains debilitating magic music upon foes and lifts his allies up... Then draws his daggers and wreaks bloody, gory havoc from behind.
Appearance:
Standing slightly taller than Alex himself, his avatar is 5'11" and just a bit more noticeably toned, clearly human in nature going off the broad shouldered build. And lack of pointy-ears. Tends to wear a hooded cloak and light armor beneath it, a flute hanging at his belt... Right next to a pair of cruelly twisted daggers, perfect for shredding flesh of monsters... And other players, if the need arises. Unlike his down-cast, if wary gaze and stature in the real world, he walks with his head high and stride proud as Muse, light and airy as if he didn't have a care in the world.
Real World
Name:
Alexander Praelor
Birthday:
January 13, 2025
Appearance:
Standing at 5'9" and built lightly, Alex seems to be... Well, your average, normal, every-day kind of guy! While he isn't particularly bad looking, and has eyes about as green as a peridot gem, he also goes to lengths to go un-noticed in the real world, often dressing in completely unremarkable clothing, walking with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted down, just another unremarkable soul in the city, not to be thought about twice. While he'd never admit to it, he has to dye his hair to keep it at the dark brown it was in his younger years, having gone salt-and-pepper fairly early in life... And nearly all grey in these days. Without the dye, at least. If one were to -actually- catch him without a shirt, they would find him to possess a surprising tone for his size... And a large number of scars, big and small. Kind of takes away from the attractiveness.
Occupation:
Musician, WWIII Veteran.
Biography:
Alexander lived a fairly normal life up until his twenties. He was born in a nice town in Canada in the middle of January, during a blizzard. He tends to joke that he was then forced to walk home as an infant. Up hill. In ten feet of snow. Naked. Both ways. Twice. In truth, all went without complication, and despite power-flickers in the hospital during the storm, he came into the world without a problem, and two days later was taken to the home that he would live in for the next eighteen years. Elementary, middle, and highschool all went fairly well for him- He was a smart individual. No genius, certainly, but he managed mostly A's and B's, a C popping up here and there. However, early in Middle School, he discovered his talent for music and language- Learning French, German, and even a bit of Latin in his free-time for fun, and focusing on learning to play the base guitar, guitar, and piano through highschool. There were no traumatizing events- His parents are still alive, he was never bullied, he had friends, he had rivals.
He was normal.
And then, inevitably, disaster struck. Just before he went south into the U.S.A to attend a prestigious musical college program, WWIII broke out, and he made a different choice- He enlisted in the military. With the sudden massive need for troops, he didn't have a hard time getting in. And yet, unlike some, he had no delusions of glory in this matter. He didn't climb the ranks and become a hero, nor did he hide in a corner for the entire war. No, he fought to protect his home and his family, putting his survival down to raw -luck- through those years. However, he did not come out unscathed. Injuries were plentiful, leaving him scarred both physically and mentally. But, those were things he could move past. He was still young, he recovered quickly, there was no real lasting damage- Therapy for his mind and body solved those problems, over time.
But what left a truly lasting mark was the initial nuclear fallout from those first bombs that scorched the skies before a ceasefire was finally called. While he was lucky enough to not be close enough to one of those first bombs to be completely obliterated, he didn't manage to outrun the fallout, radiation poisoning blackening his blood and weakening his body. All the therapy in the world couldn't completely erase that damage from him, even if medication did keep it at bay and allow him to live a, mostly, healthy life. Occasionally, he still finds the headaches to pound at his skull, blood running from his nose and body going weak, practically helpless lest he downs his emergency medications. On the worst days, he ends up hospitalized, blackened blood from nose and ears a definite sign that the poisoning was catching up with him that day.
And yet, he forced himself to live on. Only doctors and close friends ever learned from him what his ailment was, and he worked for his living as a musician in the post-war times. He felt he'd lived for that reason, to use his gift of music after the nuclear warfare and lift what spirits were left with various forms of music, from country to blues to old school rock. He made his living with music, and felt that he was keeping others from the depths of despair with the same.
And then came Dust.
Dust Persona
Alias:
Muse
Style of Play:
Bard-sassin. The most epic fusion of assassin and bard! First he rains debilitating magic music upon foes and lifts his allies up... Then draws his daggers and wreaks bloody, gory havoc from behind.
Appearance:
Standing slightly taller than Alex himself, his avatar is 5'11" and just a bit more noticeably toned, clearly human in nature going off the broad shouldered build. And lack of pointy-ears. Tends to wear a hooded cloak and light armor beneath it, a flute hanging at his belt... Right next to a pair of cruelly twisted daggers, perfect for shredding flesh of monsters... And other players, if the need arises. Unlike his down-cast, if wary gaze and stature in the real world, he walks with his head high and stride proud as Muse, light and airy as if he didn't have a care in the world.
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Hello Az. I'll be joining you over there.
Righto~
Eheheheheheeeee. But it's so much -fun-! Safe is boring~. And that it does. Guild Fall... Good way to refer to it.
And awesome~
And awesome~
Yay~
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