No more Dragons, please... there will be another dragon, as stated in the first post, but he/she will be mine!*insert evil laugh here*
I will be putting up another character sheet, and then going over all of the CSes to give a verdict of accepted or not, and what needs work on. And then... the IC will be opened... expect it to be done in 3-4 hours...
Deamonbane Member
STATUS: When you see a sock on the doorknob, the only civilized way to react is to kick the door down, declaring loudly that," Player Three has entered the game!" 9 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 874 (0.22 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Deamonbane 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
When you see a sock on the doorknob, the only civilized way to react is to kick the door down, declaring loudly that," Player Three has entered the game!"
7
likes
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Name:
Iorveth
Race:
Elf
Class:
Warrior/Archer
Age:
265
Appearance: (Pic and Description of at least two paragraphs. No Anime.)
Many people believe that Elves are naturally beautiful. And it appears that someone set out to prove them wrong with Iorveth's face. He doesn't quite recall the fight in which he received the scar that marred the left side of his face, but it was brutal, and obviously, not his own gruesome scar. Standing taller than most elves tend to, lean, muscular and quick beyond compare. Even with one eye missing, he is among the finest bowelves in the world, and without a doubt the finest swordself.
His dark hair seemed to not fit in being long with a long streak of white where the scar was, so he keeps it short. Dressed in simple, utilitarian armor and clothing, with weapons of similar sort, he has the bearing of a man that should have none. And yet, with his powerful presence, he is hard not to notice, unless he is where he was born to be: In the forests. As a rule, the left half of his face is covered in a scarlet headscarf.
Personality:
Cold and calculating, this elf has been at war for so long, he has forgotten what peace feels like. Even being tied to Vergen along with his men feels foreign, although he does not break from his vow, even if he nearly constantly takes it upon himself to lead the scouting missions that many of his squad would be more capable of carrying out, were he to remain.
Charismatic when he needs to be, which is not too often, he knows of the concepts of loyalty and strength of character, abiding by a personal code of conduct, elastic though it may be. However, he knows that all is fair in love and war, and knows that dirty jobs must be done. To keep those that need a purer name than his from getting their hands dirty, he takes on the rough and tough dirty jobs with pleasure.
Weapons:
A two-handed saber
An Elven longbow
Baldric of throwing knives.
Bio: (Three paragraph minimum.)
A war between himself and humans has spanned his entire life, and has had its casualties. A pleasant and delightful Iorveth was one of them. His sense of humor is dry and chilly, making him an unpleasant character if you are a human. While recent events have made him slightly less hateful of the Dh'oine, a lifelong suspicion and hatred, along with thousands dead at his hand, old habits die hard. He still hates the guts of all but a few humans.
Born in a nondescript village inside the forests, he was present, as a child, at many destructions of his people. The massacres, the descriminations, the general dislike of humans for non-humans slowly drove him to what he felt was his calling, defending his people. He was hardly subtle about it, and less of a hero than a fighter that knew what had to be done and did it without qualm in his heart. Indeed, many saw him as more of a common criminal and murderer than a fighter for a cause. Other than his men. He was quickly promoted to commanding a commando unit of the Scoia'tael, and his men knew that his loyalty to them was unquestioned, and only superseded by his dedication to his cause.
Recently, having heard of a young human female that was standing for the rights of non-humans, he decided that she upheld a cause that he found to be honorable, and joined her cause, with it coming to a head as him and his troop helped with the defense of Vergen, and eventual defeat of King Foltest, followed by the same King's declaration of the Upper Aedirn's independence. After that, he accompanied Geralt of Rivia to the Summit of Loc Muinne, and having escaped the meeting with his life, decided to separate his troop from the Scoia'tael as a whole and have them swear allegiance to Queen Saskia of Vergen.
He is currently on a scouting mission to help Saskia determine if she should join in the war effort to ward off the Nilfgaardians.
Iorveth
Race:
Elf
Class:
Warrior/Archer
Age:
265
Appearance: (Pic and Description of at least two paragraphs. No Anime.)
Many people believe that Elves are naturally beautiful. And it appears that someone set out to prove them wrong with Iorveth's face. He doesn't quite recall the fight in which he received the scar that marred the left side of his face, but it was brutal, and obviously, not his own gruesome scar. Standing taller than most elves tend to, lean, muscular and quick beyond compare. Even with one eye missing, he is among the finest bowelves in the world, and without a doubt the finest swordself.
His dark hair seemed to not fit in being long with a long streak of white where the scar was, so he keeps it short. Dressed in simple, utilitarian armor and clothing, with weapons of similar sort, he has the bearing of a man that should have none. And yet, with his powerful presence, he is hard not to notice, unless he is where he was born to be: In the forests. As a rule, the left half of his face is covered in a scarlet headscarf.
Personality:
Cold and calculating, this elf has been at war for so long, he has forgotten what peace feels like. Even being tied to Vergen along with his men feels foreign, although he does not break from his vow, even if he nearly constantly takes it upon himself to lead the scouting missions that many of his squad would be more capable of carrying out, were he to remain.
Charismatic when he needs to be, which is not too often, he knows of the concepts of loyalty and strength of character, abiding by a personal code of conduct, elastic though it may be. However, he knows that all is fair in love and war, and knows that dirty jobs must be done. To keep those that need a purer name than his from getting their hands dirty, he takes on the rough and tough dirty jobs with pleasure.
Weapons:
A two-handed saber
An Elven longbow
Baldric of throwing knives.
Bio: (Three paragraph minimum.)
A war between himself and humans has spanned his entire life, and has had its casualties. A pleasant and delightful Iorveth was one of them. His sense of humor is dry and chilly, making him an unpleasant character if you are a human. While recent events have made him slightly less hateful of the Dh'oine, a lifelong suspicion and hatred, along with thousands dead at his hand, old habits die hard. He still hates the guts of all but a few humans.
Born in a nondescript village inside the forests, he was present, as a child, at many destructions of his people. The massacres, the descriminations, the general dislike of humans for non-humans slowly drove him to what he felt was his calling, defending his people. He was hardly subtle about it, and less of a hero than a fighter that knew what had to be done and did it without qualm in his heart. Indeed, many saw him as more of a common criminal and murderer than a fighter for a cause. Other than his men. He was quickly promoted to commanding a commando unit of the Scoia'tael, and his men knew that his loyalty to them was unquestioned, and only superseded by his dedication to his cause.
Recently, having heard of a young human female that was standing for the rights of non-humans, he decided that she upheld a cause that he found to be honorable, and joined her cause, with it coming to a head as him and his troop helped with the defense of Vergen, and eventual defeat of King Foltest, followed by the same King's declaration of the Upper Aedirn's independence. After that, he accompanied Geralt of Rivia to the Summit of Loc Muinne, and having escaped the meeting with his life, decided to separate his troop from the Scoia'tael as a whole and have them swear allegiance to Queen Saskia of Vergen.
He is currently on a scouting mission to help Saskia determine if she should join in the war effort to ward off the Nilfgaardians.
Sorry for disappearing folks... Internet here is a little iffy, will be putting up my CSes in moments....
Name: Jonathan Eclesius
Nickname, if applicable: Deathwalker
Age: 32
Human Appearance:
Home Country:
Baelor, a country covered in forests and low mountains, called the Copper Hills. The land is tough and cold, hard to grow anything on, and the people rely on hunting and whatever they can plant for food. The forest provides them with wood, and the Copper Hills are aptly named, although copper is not the only metal that they found there, simply the first. They export iron, coal, copper, tin, wood, and even gold, silver and precious gems in exchange for grain from other countries and for this reason, few want to wage war against them.
The people are skilled craftsmen, both with wood and metal, and are extremely superstitious. So much so that the Church is the ruling body and government.
Background:
Jonathan Eclesius was not his born name, although what that was faded long ago from his memory. Born in the cold northern country of Baelor, he discovered that he had magical potential at a young age, although old enough to know the curse that it was. He fled his parents house at seven years of age, running for his life as some of the village people discovered what he was, and wanted to burn him for it. They feared the forest, however, and there he found solace and sanctuary. Of a sort.
Darkness grew in his heart as he turned his magic into something terrible and awful. His power grew, and as did his legend in the area. So much so that the church deemed him a threat and charged a special unit to capture him and bring him back to a court to stand trial for his witchcraft. But the young warlock had no intention of going quietly. The battle that ensued was of legendary proportions, and at the end of it, Jonathan was left nearly dead.
Oddly enough, and elderly priest, the head of the troop came forward and used great light magic to heal him. But the event was traumtizing, leaving the young man without any magical power or much memory of his past before he came to the forest. He was brought back for judgement, but the elderly priest pleaded his case before the jury, telling them that he was no longer capable of practicing magic. However, he did owe a great debt to the church for what happened in the forest, so he vowed, from that moment forward, that he would fight for the church, bringing down their enemies, especially the witches and warlocks. His name was given: The Deathwalker, named so because he was living, as the Church saw it, on borrowed time. He owed the Gods for his life, and as thus, had to repay them in the blood of the dark ones.
His name took on a different, more lethal meaning for the ones that he was charged with hunting down and slaughtering in the name of the Church.
Strengths: Works best in the dark, able to see perfectly well even in a pitch black environment. Faster than a lightning bolt and agile as a cat, as well as moving as silent as one, hard to hit is the name of his game.
Weapons: Right Vambrace with retractable claws.
Two daggers, carried around his waist.
All weapons are blessed against breaking and working as poison against dark ones, including himself. If the blades puncture the skin, without magical help, the target would be dead within minutes even from the smallest wound.
Nickname, if applicable: Deathwalker
Age: 32
Human Appearance:
Home Country:
Baelor, a country covered in forests and low mountains, called the Copper Hills. The land is tough and cold, hard to grow anything on, and the people rely on hunting and whatever they can plant for food. The forest provides them with wood, and the Copper Hills are aptly named, although copper is not the only metal that they found there, simply the first. They export iron, coal, copper, tin, wood, and even gold, silver and precious gems in exchange for grain from other countries and for this reason, few want to wage war against them.
The people are skilled craftsmen, both with wood and metal, and are extremely superstitious. So much so that the Church is the ruling body and government.
Background:
Jonathan Eclesius was not his born name, although what that was faded long ago from his memory. Born in the cold northern country of Baelor, he discovered that he had magical potential at a young age, although old enough to know the curse that it was. He fled his parents house at seven years of age, running for his life as some of the village people discovered what he was, and wanted to burn him for it. They feared the forest, however, and there he found solace and sanctuary. Of a sort.
Darkness grew in his heart as he turned his magic into something terrible and awful. His power grew, and as did his legend in the area. So much so that the church deemed him a threat and charged a special unit to capture him and bring him back to a court to stand trial for his witchcraft. But the young warlock had no intention of going quietly. The battle that ensued was of legendary proportions, and at the end of it, Jonathan was left nearly dead.
Oddly enough, and elderly priest, the head of the troop came forward and used great light magic to heal him. But the event was traumtizing, leaving the young man without any magical power or much memory of his past before he came to the forest. He was brought back for judgement, but the elderly priest pleaded his case before the jury, telling them that he was no longer capable of practicing magic. However, he did owe a great debt to the church for what happened in the forest, so he vowed, from that moment forward, that he would fight for the church, bringing down their enemies, especially the witches and warlocks. His name was given: The Deathwalker, named so because he was living, as the Church saw it, on borrowed time. He owed the Gods for his life, and as thus, had to repay them in the blood of the dark ones.
His name took on a different, more lethal meaning for the ones that he was charged with hunting down and slaughtering in the name of the Church.
Strengths: Works best in the dark, able to see perfectly well even in a pitch black environment. Faster than a lightning bolt and agile as a cat, as well as moving as silent as one, hard to hit is the name of his game.
Weapons: Right Vambrace with retractable claws.
Two daggers, carried around his waist.
All weapons are blessed against breaking and working as poison against dark ones, including himself. If the blades puncture the skin, without magical help, the target would be dead within minutes even from the smallest wound.
WIP
The lodge itself was destroyed, yes, but many of the members survived. Maybe you could play a sorceress that survived and is trying to rebuild it, using the war as something of a leverage to get the kings to support her, as the Emyr is well known to have his own magical entourage.
Will have my character up soon...
Also, call me Bane
Will have my character up soon...
Also, call me Bane
Small detail, Witchers are all Male, and all human (up to this point anyways). Dunno if there is any records of a female Witcher?
All of the Witcher Schools have been destroyed or abandoned, or so canon states. There are many surviving Witchers, though (And by many, I mean a several dozen in the whole world) yeah, that is probably a good idea. I will be accepting 3 Witcher Characters. First come first serve.
Also, Rules updated.
Also, Rules updated.
Name:
Theron Parmenion
Age:
35
Race:
Human? Greek? Caucasian
Class:
Spymaster
Occupation:
Businessman
Appearance:
Not a very tall man, and not very muscular, he has exuded confidence and charisma from a very young age. His hair allowed to grow stylishly long, and his face clean-shaved except for a dark goatee, which he thinks adds to something in his appearance. While not a very large and muscled man, he hired a group of warriors, gladiators and fighting experts to train him in the fighting arts, to great effect.
Personality:
There have been many words to describe this one man, but few hit closer to the mark than cold. Indeed, icy. He cares not for the troubles of others, his mind occupied with more important things. Intensely intelligent, with eyes that see more than they had the right to into the hearts and minds of the people around him, slippery and hard to read are also apt words for this man, as he is a proficient actor, never saying what he means, and not always meaning what he says.
Backstory:
Born to a lowly Athenian accountant of good name, married to an equally lowly woman of equally good name, hired in service of a rich and powerful Athenian official, they expected their son to walk in their footsteps, growing rich one day as the Roman empire made trade prosperous and safer than it used to be. But they had little mind as to what their child was truly capable of. Almost emotionless, he sometimes startled his tutors with just how intelligent he was, learning to read, write and do maths at a very young age. However, growing up, playing with the children of the rich official, he knew by the time that he was 5 that he wasn't going to be an accountant. He was going to be a nobleman.
Learning as much as he could, without letting on that he was learning, of course, from the official, he had a good grasp on how the politics worked in this day and age, and he got to work. At the age of twelve, he discovered that the official was stealing tax money each year to pay for lavish gifts to a mistress that lived nearby, as well as to secretly frequent a brothel in the city. He brought this information to the man, telling him that if he did not increase his father's pay dramatically, as well as take him on as an apprentice, information on his embezzling would regrettably reach the ears of the men that oversaw the tax collections in Rome.
And that was how he started. By the time that he was 18 years of age, he already owned a small shipping company out of Athens. Using his skills and a rapidly growing information network, he blackmailed a Roman officer to give his ships an escort on their way to Egypt, Palestine and, more importantly, Rome, while his competitors found themselves falling on very hard times, with ships being lost in storms, to pirate attacks and other such excuses.
His growing influence allowed him to purchase his Roman Citizenship, and he moved himself, and his base of operations out of Athens to Rome. His growing influence made him quite welcome there, his businesses growing to something of a monopoly over the Mediterranean, and his informers everywhere, whispering every dark secret that there was to know in every major city. A man to be feared, and never trusted.
Theron Parmenion
Age:
35
Race:
Human? Greek? Caucasian
Class:
Spymaster
Occupation:
Businessman
Appearance:
Not a very tall man, and not very muscular, he has exuded confidence and charisma from a very young age. His hair allowed to grow stylishly long, and his face clean-shaved except for a dark goatee, which he thinks adds to something in his appearance. While not a very large and muscled man, he hired a group of warriors, gladiators and fighting experts to train him in the fighting arts, to great effect.
Personality:
There have been many words to describe this one man, but few hit closer to the mark than cold. Indeed, icy. He cares not for the troubles of others, his mind occupied with more important things. Intensely intelligent, with eyes that see more than they had the right to into the hearts and minds of the people around him, slippery and hard to read are also apt words for this man, as he is a proficient actor, never saying what he means, and not always meaning what he says.
Backstory:
Born to a lowly Athenian accountant of good name, married to an equally lowly woman of equally good name, hired in service of a rich and powerful Athenian official, they expected their son to walk in their footsteps, growing rich one day as the Roman empire made trade prosperous and safer than it used to be. But they had little mind as to what their child was truly capable of. Almost emotionless, he sometimes startled his tutors with just how intelligent he was, learning to read, write and do maths at a very young age. However, growing up, playing with the children of the rich official, he knew by the time that he was 5 that he wasn't going to be an accountant. He was going to be a nobleman.
Learning as much as he could, without letting on that he was learning, of course, from the official, he had a good grasp on how the politics worked in this day and age, and he got to work. At the age of twelve, he discovered that the official was stealing tax money each year to pay for lavish gifts to a mistress that lived nearby, as well as to secretly frequent a brothel in the city. He brought this information to the man, telling him that if he did not increase his father's pay dramatically, as well as take him on as an apprentice, information on his embezzling would regrettably reach the ears of the men that oversaw the tax collections in Rome.
And that was how he started. By the time that he was 18 years of age, he already owned a small shipping company out of Athens. Using his skills and a rapidly growing information network, he blackmailed a Roman officer to give his ships an escort on their way to Egypt, Palestine and, more importantly, Rome, while his competitors found themselves falling on very hard times, with ships being lost in storms, to pirate attacks and other such excuses.
His growing influence allowed him to purchase his Roman Citizenship, and he moved himself, and his base of operations out of Athens to Rome. His growing influence made him quite welcome there, his businesses growing to something of a monopoly over the Mediterranean, and his informers everywhere, whispering every dark secret that there was to know in every major city. A man to be feared, and never trusted.
OOC is up!
© 2007-2024