Avatar of dereken
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  • Old Guild Username: dereken
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
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    1. dereken 11 yrs ago

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Caractacus Dool stalked up to the tavern's front door, flyer clutched in hand. It was somewhere before dawn, and he was feeling strangely optimistic, despite the darkness of night. Heroics would be a good start. Get a necromancer in the public eye, and maybe folks wouldn't hang them on sight. Or at least use softer rope. But until then he was just a regular wizard taking a regular wizard job.

Caractacus waited outside the door. He was afraid to seem rude by barging in so early in the morning. He would simply have to wait on his lonesome a bit longer. With a nervous laugh, he thought, 'Not like I'm not used to it...' Caractacus wrapped his robe around himself to ward of the slight bite of cold, and leaned up against the tavern's outside wall. He watched outward, peering into the darkness to search for any other newcomers like himself.
On Caractacus:
"I have a bone to pick with that coward of a necromancer. Seriously. This thing's been stuck between my teeth for days. It'd be great if he could make it walk away or something."


Hey hey hey! I'm the necromancer here! I'll be making the puns!

Getting me all rattled over stupid jokes. Feh.
I'm game.
Name: Caractacus Dool

Race: Human



Personality: A stammering, stuttering mess of a man, Caractacus has trouble in dealing with the living. He is nervous and self-doubting in the utmost when around anything but the dead. Still, he doesn't harbor ill-will toward the living, more of a deep-seated fear and unease. Being around him creates a sense of unease, as though there was something sinister about him.

Background: Caractacus was always sickly and unwell, even in his youth. An early indicator of his affinity for the dead. He grew up with no friends, and even family took pains to avoid his presence. This had a profound effect on Caractacus, and drove him away from society, where he would meet his mentor, an impossibly old man, who taught him his connection with the dead, and how to utilize it. When he had taught Caractacus enough to get by, the old man sent him off. Caractacus attempted to re-enter society, but now more than ever his presence caused fear and distrust, and he was quickly driven away. Caractacus fled to seclusion. He spent his time there thinking on what his powers meant, and what his purpose was. After three years on his own, he came to a conclusion, and set out to make his purpose reality.

Abilities: Summon undead: Caractacus can summon two lesser undead creatures, such as skeletons or zombies, and command them for a period of 24 hours before they disintegrate. Note that these undead are not like those of the Lich king, but merely empty vessels animated by death magic.
Bolster undead: For a short period of time, Caractacus can increase the strength, speed, and dexterity of any undead creature under his control or allied to him.
False life: Using death magic, Caractacus can extend the life of any living creature through pain and wounds. This spell allows anything he casts it on to continue living past what would normally kill someone, but only so far, and all wounds sustained will have to be healed before the spell ends or the subject of the spell will still die.
Magic missile: A tool in nearly every wizard's arsenal, Caractacus produces a trio of magical darts, which he flings at his opponents. While not particularly powerful, they do not consume a lot of energy, and are easy to cast.
Equipment: Staff: A simple tool in the spellcaster's arsenal, this staff lets Caractacus focus his magical energy, to better cast spells.
Journal: A large journal, in which Caractacus constantly takes notes, in a language that seems rather foreign.
Wizard robe: This one is a dark gray. More to identify him as a wizard than anything else.
Dagger: A last resort. A simple, steel weapon.
I think the initial mention didn't work. It at least didn't work for me. Maybe try again?
Name: Caractacus Dool

Race: Human



Personality: A stammering, stuttering mess of a man, Caractacus has trouble in dealing with the living. He is nervous and self-doubting in the utmost when around anything but the dead. Still, he doesn't harbor ill-will toward the living, more of a deep-seated fear and unease. Being around him creates a sense of unease, as though there was something sinister about him.

Background: Caractacus was always sickly and unwell, even in his youth. An early indicator of his affinity for the dead. He grew up with no friends, and even family took pains to avoid his presence. This had a profound effect on Caractacus, and drove him away from society, where he would meet his mentor, an impossibly old man, who taught him his connection with the dead, and how to utilize it. When he had taught Caractacus enough to get by, the old man sent him off. Caractacus attempted to re-enter society, but now more than ever his presence caused fear and distrust, and he was quickly driven away. Caractacus fled to seclusion. He spent his time there thinking on what his powers meant, and what his purpose was. After three years on his own, he came to a conclusion, and set out to make his purpose reality.

Abilities: Summon undead: Caractacus can summon two lesser undead creatures, such as skeletons or zombies, and command them for a period of 24 hours before they disintigrate. Note that these undead are not like those of the Lich king, but merely empty vessels animated by death magic.
Bolster undead: For a short period of time, Caractacus can increase the strength, speed, and dexterity of any undead creature under his control or allied to him.
False life: Using death magic, Caractacus can extend the life of any living creature through pain and wounds. This spell allows anything he casts it on to continue living past what would normally kill someone, but only so far, and all wounds sustained will have to be healed before the spell ends.

Equipment: Staff: A simple tool in the spellcaster's arsenal, this staff lets Caractacus focus his magical energy, to better cast spells.
Journal: A large journal, in which Caractacus constantly takes notes, in a language that seems rather foreign.
Wizard robe: This one is a dark gray. More to identify him as a wizard than anything else.
Dagger: A last resort. A simple, steel weapon.
I totally didn't get a notification. I'm still in.
Hammond sat once more, smiling at the growing number of strangers joining him. Perhaps his luck was turning. He inclined his head at the pyromancer, a show of thanks for the warmth of her flame. He once again gestured to the name carved into his chest, tapping it twice before pointing a thumb inward to indicate it referred to himself.

Once he made that point, he decided to try to communicate further. He pointed north, into the settlement, he then mimics an archer drawing a bow and firing. With a grunt of pain, he yanked one of the arrows out, and held the point to his forehead. He raised a hand and held out four fingers. Four times they had slain him. He barely survived the fifth attempt. He brought out his only weapon, a club. Clearly of no use against such opponents. His poorly shield wouldn't fare much better. He shrugged, smiling still.
The prone figure gasped, and rolled over to push himself to his feet. He turned to face the source of the voice. How he wished to answer, to call out in jubilation in finding possible fellows. He merely smiled, however, and waved at the pair approaching. He looks around for a way to answer the warrior's question, when he spots the scar on his chest. 'Hammond'. It would work. He slowly approached, pointing at the carving in his flesh.

Hammond partially wished he had his weapons drawn, but another part didn't want to seem threatening. He stepped forward, his arms splayed to the side in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture.
I just started how I thought Hammond would start.
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