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    1. ByeliVolk 11 yrs ago

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In Totem 10 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Okay sounds good man.
In Totem 10 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Should I change the Race then? The reason why I choose Sylphs is that they are raised by human parents and that they generally look human but on the taller and thinner side with more pale skin.
In Totem 10 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
**CS for Vter Vashkov** **Name:** Vter Vashkov **Race:** Sylph -Sylphs are Born from the descendants of humans and beings of elemental air such as djinn. They can up to 300 years and reach adulthood at 50. **Description:** Tall and thin with hint of toned muscle from years of hard work with emphasis on lightness of foot rather than the brute way of doing things. Pale skin with short swept back white hair coupled with deep grey eyes which seemingly come off as cold and calculating as if measuring you both externally but also internally, judging you for every move you make so can figure what type of person you are. His tattoos , blue that look like wind that swirls that almost seem like they moving from time to time, that cover his right arm and onto his chest. His face strikes a more handsome side with a bit of rugged features (if you want the face look at the young version of Clint Eastwood). The wind always seems to be blowing around him no matter where he is as if he had is own personal wind. When he gets angry it will grow from a simple and gentle blowing to harsh and biting. He dresses in loose fitting clothing almost like a sailor rather than a soldier. He appears to be in his early twenties but seemingly acts older than he is. Actual height 6'3 and actual age 56. **Backstory:** Vter was born into a shipbuilding district to the son of a carpenter who worked was a ship builder. With the intentions of eventually becoming both a master ship builder and merchant with the ability of sailing from port to port. Unfortunately fates intention went the other direction on the young Vter and soon he lost his father to an accident which involved a mast falling on top of him after a block and tackle snapped. Vter was forced upon the streets at the age of 12 and grew up there with petty theft and stealing. He would work odd jobs as a ship builder's apprentice or a carpenter's apprentice until he found passage (*see running from town guards for stealing*) and became a deck hand for a ship captain. The ship captain Gretter the Grey took a liking to the young boy and taught him how to sword fight on a ship and using improvised weaponry. Learning the trades of the privateers he grew tired of sailing and searched for something more permanent after serving faithfully under Gretter and his son James for 44 years. He found the mercenary group the White Guard and saw they were hiring talent and tried his hand it. His more dexterious style of sword fighting and dirtier tactics intrigued recruiters and hired him on. He has only been apart of the White Guard for scant few weeks. **Goals / Fears: ** His short term goal is to live long enough to retire. His long term goal is retire into the woods and make exquisite wood items such as long-stemmed pipes, statues, etc. His fear is that he will die before retiring and loosing his good looks in battle from scaring. **Personality:** While initially coming off as cold and calculating he is actually warm and cheery with a little too much of a cocksure attitude. When around women he will flash them a quick flirtatious smile. Under pressure he is quick to re-adapt his cold personality and goes into a calm rationalized state. He thinks of himself as a bit cocky but reliable when needed. He can be a bit of a bleeding heart but will never show it. Ultimately cares for others but is self preservation first. **Mastery:** Dual Wielding Swordsman **Equipment:** Light leather armor, roughly 6 knives hidden about his person, two knives openly carrying on the front of his armor, two Shasquas', a set of carpenters tools, a back pack, leather sewing needle, thread roughly 10ft, 50 feet of rope, a carving knife, three bandanas, a book with an ink pen with two vials of ink, and his White Guard surcoat. **Totem:** A bone whistle flute ,made from some mythical winged creature, that summons wind spirits to allows the wielder to converse with them and tell him secrets. The secrets can be anything from rumors or certain truths to dirty limericks and horrible puns. It will always depend on the mischievous wind spirits kindness. Though it can be used the cost of fraction of the life force of the user to have the wind spirits stir up the winds, from anywhere of a light breeze to a hurricane like winds. If used to summon powerful wind storms it will cause the user to become unconscious for a period of 1 hour to 2 days depending on the strength of the wind (Obvious GM discretion).
Im going to wait on thunder before posting to see what happens.
Here is mine



I like that Idea.
hey don't forget about me there I would love to carry this on a little bit more.
:-)
sounds like a plan
Tim got to thinking for a little bit. Maybe he should finally raid one of his old bud's houses. Thinking about it a little bit and mulling over what Emma and Dean had said to him. "If we stay longer than a few days then we are going to need proper defenses" thought Tim. "Food is of one concern, but for the most part I am worried about defense. The project of mine probably will only take a day or three at the most and then we can be on our way." pondered Tim. Sitting silently Tim reached over and grabbed the crackers and nodded in thanks to Emma. Staring out the window to the north end of the block. How long would it take him to reach the old house? Maybe an hour or so at the most if he moved quietly enough so no one could hear him and also stay out of sight. An hour to wrap up everything that would be left and maybe an hour and a half back to cover his steps back to the house. He had to plan accordingly and make sure everything went alright so as not to attract attention. A slight smile touched his lips for once as the anxiety lifted and the tension had been somewhat lifted from the room. For the first time in roughly 6 months Tim had people not shooting him or trying to kill him. This was bliss and truthfully worth every single second enjoyment. Taking a quick swig from his camel pack to wet his mouth he came to a decision right there, these are going to be the people he is willing to put life on the line for and willing travel companions. "Alright I'll stay and continue the search of the surrounding area. But first you two should barricade the house we are at now. Make it as defensible as possible as you can. I know of a place nearby that has some supplies worth taking. I will try to be back in roughly in three to fours hours from now. Trust me we are going to need what I am about to bring." said Tim as he was finishing the last of the crackers.

Tim ducked out of the house and made a bee line to an alleyway moving quietly and as stealthily as possible. Keeping close to the shadows and making sure not to make too much noise he silently went north and west as possible. After a half hour or so he heard a car coming and ducked behind an old dumpster as he saw a 95 Honda Civic come blazing by. Waiting till he could barely hear the car's exhaust he continued on towards his mission. He finally arrived to an old house that definitely had seen some better days. The house had been a bar in the early 1900's but it was converted over to a house in the mid 1920's to a three story house. The house belonged to an old friend of his Augustus DeWitt who owned and operated the warehouse he has been living in. The guy was definitely a genius when it came to metalworking and machining. But by the looks of the house it looks like that the poor old thing had been broken into several times. Walking inside the furniture was thrown about with blood stains and ammo casings everywhere. He saw bodies everywhere he went and riddled with bullet holes. Following the trail it led to the kitchen where his buddy was sitting there smiling with an old stogie hanging from his mouth and a grin spread wide from his face. Whatever gun he was using was gone but from all the ammo sitting there it should have been his Ak-47 and a AR-15. "At least you had your fun going out bud." Tim said in a quiet voice.

Going back to the stairs he had passed in the entry way he went into the old broom closet. Standing inside he put on his head lamp and switch the thing on. The one thing he knew that those raiding shmucks didn't was this house was used as a speakeasy during the mid 20's to the late 40's which meant that was secret just waiting to happen. Taking an old rod hanging off the side wall he found the old peak hole and pushed it through and turned 90 degree's left 45 degrees right and then 15 degrees left. An audible click went as a door swung open to reveal steps leading down into the basement. DeWitt was a gun collector and loved anything used in the World Wars in general. Tim knew what he wanted and how much there should be. Walking down the steps he entered a massive room complete worth a gun working bench, a reloading table, a lathe, and every kind of material ever needed to work and manufacturer firearms. Moving towards a second door to his left Tim opened it to find the exact things he needed. 1 Mosin Nagant with a PU 91/30 scope and strap, 800 rounds of 7.62x54R ammo for it, One Taruas Raging bull chambered in .454 Casull with about 60 rounds of ammo for it and holster, and finally an Colt M1911 chambered in .45 and around 105 rounds of ammo and three spare magazines for the gun plus another holster. This was what Tim had left here two years ago for his buddy to take care in case of anything happening to him out west. Tim Bagged his weapons and grabbed the two cases of ammo and stuffed the rest in his Alice pack and went out the way he came in.

While doing the exact same thing he had done to get here except with about another 60lbs added into it he sneaks back to the base of operation aka Deans place Tim knocks on the door and waits for somebody to answer it. He had roughly been gone for around 3 hours and 45 minutes. But on Tim stood waiting for someone to open the door with a big shit eating grin on his face.
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