Enigmatik

Tales of Owls and Wolves: A High Fantasy Interest Check

WIP

Name: Pepper-Thirdborn-Of-Salwinspark-and-Deatrich-Extraordinary-tinker-fou-What? Just Pepper and my last name? Dammit. Pepper Hiezelvich.
Continent of Birth: High Mist
Race: Gnome
Class: Bard/Rogue/Warrior. She couldn't decide.
Starter Equipment: Axe-Musket, powder and shot, as many daggers as she can physically fit on her person, explosives, absolutely zero armour, an oversized cape that can be used as a parachute, explosives, some really snazzy boots, a respectable amount of currency, lute (she's trying to make an axe-musket-lute, but at the moment you have to pick two.) Explosives, various odds and ends that she uses for tinkering, tools, and more explosives.
Age: 45
Personality:
Character Traits: Flamboyant, excitable, quick-witted.
Strengths: Anything to do with explosives, interacting wih crowds.
Weaknesses:
Fears: Fucking bats.
Brief History:

Tales of Owls and Wolves: A High Fantasy Interest Check

@Famotill

Could I do gnomes based off of Dragonlance? Yhey're eccentric small halfling-like beings with immense intellect and more than one social quirks, like ridiculously long and complicated names and talk so fast their version of common is basicly a sped up version with words mashed together.

Tales of Owls and Wolves: A High Fantasy Interest Check

Looks cool, but what uh... How is this thing going to work? Like, do we take over a preexisting kingdom? ARe we founding new ones? What's happening here?

Also, no love for gnomes :( .

Stranded: Prisoner's Tale (sci-fi/fantasy Med casual)

@Sgt Vandingo

Jango isn’t going to like someone he sees as an opposing hunter.

Everything is Normal

Mark called out to Veronica as she walked in. "Hey hey hey! What's up girl? Still- Oh, ok, no." He shrugged as the secretary offered naught but a perfunctory smile his way, causing him to spin back around to his computer. Or, well, most of him. Gaze still looking at the assistant. The wave was more promising. He had just come on a little strong, it was all good. He returned the wave with a grin, before looking at the next person that came in. Issac was alright. Solid guy.

The next person was obvious. Even his jetpack made less noise than Boris' bike did, and certainly less noise than the person did. And the finger pistols. Damn the finger pistols. At least he got a wave. "Cooking? Jack. It's Monday." He would have offered his comb to his co-worker, but greasers seemingly had more combs than they did useless pockets, so it seemed like the gesture wasn't needed.

"What's happening now in the daily grind... In desk... Empty. Because I spend my whole day fixing your shit." The life of an IT guy. He had work, but as long as he claimed he was 'compiling data,' he never had to do a thing. Apart from fixing malfunctioning PCs. That happened a lot.

Everything is Normal

"I am sir, however, with all due respect, my computer is still booting on." He pointed at the screen in his cubicle, which (thankfully,) faced away from where Albert normally sat. "I couldn't work right now sir, even if I wasn't combing my hair." He sat back in his chair, watching as the computer went through all of its start up screen in a painfully slow fashion. Even working in IT, there was limits to what you could do with a hunk of junk. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the notifications. Texts from his mates, one from his mum, who had been insistent on making sure he wasn't going to go into a wall at fifty miles per hour, whilst flying... House burned down, middle east had another bomb going off... Nothing of any interest.

Finally, his computer chirped up, and he twirled his chair back around, tapping in his login details. As the cycle of incredible slowness^TM started again, he let out a long sigh. Mondays.

Everything is Normal

Hell yeah. Jump-In.

Everything is Normal

Mark Blackwood

Everything is Normal

Next up came the distinctive rumble of a jetpack. Touching down outside the office, a young man pressed a button on his helmet, causing it to whir gently and flick up. taking a sip out of the smoothie he had picked up earlier, he shrugged his shoulders, the steel 'wings' that allowed him to fly about folding down. Opening the door, he let out a large yawn, giving a 'hello,' to the boss. Yes, he was early. It was mostly because he was early enough to dodge the ticketers, so it saved him a ton of money. Plus, overtime. He slid his punchcard into the clock and pressed it down, the machine letting out a 'thunk' as it confirmed his check in time. Walking to his cubicle, he slid the helmet off and put it next to his computer, putting his jetpack jacket down over his chair.

Slurping again on his smoothie, he gave a twirl on his chair, a comb in his hand. The helmet always mussed up his hair, so he gave himself a few minutes always to make sure he looked good. His skin was pretty healthy, his hair, which was a straight, close-to-but-not-quite-jet-black hair was clean, and he always managed to be clean shaven.

"Morning boss."

Everything is Normal

Really tempted to make a character who owns a fully functioning jetpack.