Fat Boy Kyle

Plague of the North

I would suggest that you either appear in the night, or you wait for after me and Centimane have posted our collab. Once said collab is complete we will be skipping to morning and getting on with shiz, so if anyone wants to do night posts then do them now!

Plague of the North

Excellent, accepted! Please add your character to the CS bin :)

Plague of the North

@Fat Boy Kyle You'll have to forgive my intrusion but how about we just skip to the next part (travel? Next morning?) and we can do the meetings as flashbacks to the current night? That way we're not stuck waiting for people (esp. if we don't know if said people are still around, right?)

@Partisan

I'll probably skip the meeting with Mathias if there's no sign of Rare. However, there's two almost complete collabs I'm waiting on (one of which is the first part of the morning post). Once these are out of the way things should hopefully speed up exponentially. Unfortunately I'm still quite busy atm (for example I spent six hours at a recruitment day yesterday - sigh).

Plague of the North

Gwenyfar Ravenspire

The Sellsword
Deep Heart

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


On the shorter side of life, Gwenyfar stands at 5’4, with a lean and lithe body, her skin is tanned, but not from her ancestry, much rather from her personal work habits that take her outside. She has almond shaped eyes that are hazel in colour, mostly green with splashes of brown. Her hair is a shade of deep mahogany that she keeps wound in a tight bun, a braid, or worn loose. She has a gentle nose, and a large mouth with plump lips to match. As a sellsword, she is commonly seen in her leather armour instead of dressing like a normal lady of the day, drawing much curious looks from the men, along with the occasional fist thrown.
Her voice, when she does speak, is deep and husky for a woman, giving her the allure that she is much wiser than her age.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Gwenyfar Cerrunos Ravenspire

【Alias】
Willowleaf

【Gender】
Female

【Age】
27

【Sexuality】
Bisexual

【Birth Place】
Amaranth Village

【Nation/Allegiance】
Kingdom of Vasili

【Profession】
Sellsword

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】

Gwenyfar, or commonly, Gwen, can come across as a bit stoic in nature as she is very reserved. She doesn’t take kindly to ruffians or strangers with ill intent. She always seems to have her wits about her, as she grew up that way. Gwenyfar doesn’t like talking too much in general, but when she does, it would be best for one to listen. Some might perceive Gwenyfar to be rude and harsh, but in reality, she favours the truth, and chooses to speak it, no matter how much it might pain someone. However, far below that toughened exterior is a woman, with a sense of not belonging trying to find her place in the world.
She is opened minded when it comes to meeting new people and always chooses to give them a chance until they wrong her. Gwen has a strong sense of right and wrong, and anything immoral troubles her, and gives her pertinent dreams if she made the wrong decision. She isn’t out to make friends, but one would be surprised to see her return a smile if they were to dare to smile at her.
Her nature in general is collected and calm, as she doesn’t like causing conflict, unless of course there is coin involved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】

Born in Amaranth Village, a small hamlet to the west along the coastline of Vasili, to a blacksmith, Gwenyfar Ravenspire learned how to be like one of the boys. Her father, Agnar, taught her how to take the heat of the flame, and to forge new blades, and any type of armour under the bellows. The forge itself was more comforting to her than their own home. The continuous sound of steam hissing, wood crackling, and so on, truly warmed her heart.
Gwenyfar had no mother, as she died in childbirth; Aila was her name. Her father spoke much of her mother, sharing fond memories with Gwen as she became older through the years. Her two brothers, Wilhelm and Athorian, taught her how to use the blade as a weapon. At any time in her childhood, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see the trio egging each other on in a sword fight. Wilhelm was truly the fighter in the family, whilst Athorian dabbled in literature and science more than swords and the forge.
All her life, Gwenyfar lived Amaranth, occasionall traveling to Minorhold to the east to sell their wares that they had forged. After visiting a particular merchant in Minorhold, Gwenyfar became exposed to the idea of jewelery-making. She learned the craft well, as she taught herself how to work the finer metals and inlay the precious gems.
On their way back from Minorhold one late autumn day, Agnar, Wilhelm, Gwenyfar, and Athorian were ambushed by some highwaymen, they demanded that they hand over their gold, and the gems that Gwenyfar recently purchased to fill an order for a local woman. With haste, Gwenyfar quickly drew her short-handed sword, with a black leather string grip, and drove her blade into the belly of the man who held the dagger to her father’s face. Her initiative allowed her brothers to dispose of the other bandits. Upon return to Amaranth Village, they found that their whole forge had been struck by fire and burnt their home to the ground. Filled with rage and anger, Agnar forced his daughter to leave, banishing her from Amaranth. Her brothers protested fiercely as they believed him to be unjust, but Gwenyfar accepted the fate and chose to leave. Taking nothing with her, save for the clothes on her back, the gems she had confiscated, her sword, and her horse, Gwenyfar said goodbye to her family and left, heading east across Vasili.

But that was 8 years past…

Now, the Blood Plague had spread across the land, descending from the north and consuming everything in its path. There were horrors describing the unthinkable as the dead came to life to eat the living, or at least that’s what she had heard.
On the road that she had travelled, Gwenyfar had plied her skills in forgery and swordsmanship to become a sellsword to make ends meet. Honestly, there was nothing that felt better than giving some rat bastard his due for shorting a merchant, or taking someone hostage, or rather rescuing someone from a kidnapping. Her statute made her so well known, that most people avoided her presence.
She headed to the Cross Roads, as word had spread that the Consano were looking for recruits, what the mission would be was still unknown to her, she chose to head there anyways. The horrors of the north were spreading south, and if anything made Gwenyfar fight, it was for her very own life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Smithing/Forging
Swordfighting
Survival Tactics (knows how to skin a fish, make camp, build a fire, etc..)
Hunting/Fishing


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】

Short-hand sword
Shield
Whetstone
Flint
Walking Staff (can be converted into fishing pole with twine)
Twine

Magical Spells
None

@MacabreFox

Simple, but good! Couple of very small things though:

I'd like to see a little bit more fleshing out in regards to equipment; so include what she's wearing and also give us some descriptions of her weapons (e.g. a plain, relatively new Iron sword).

It's also a bit hard to understand why she was banished? She saved her Dad from bandits and the shop burned down? Are the two connected? Does he blame her? Why would he?

You didn't mention what religion, if any, she was. It doesn't have to be an import factor for her, but it's better if we know.

Plague of the North

@Fat Boy Kyle Do you have room for one more amongst you? I just read thru the entire IC and I found it phenomenal. I can have a CS up and posted soon, followed by an intro post if you'll have me (:

@MacabreFox

Supposed to be full, but I'm constantly bending my own rules xP Get good CS in and we'll see if we can fit you in.

Plague of the North

I live. I know I said a little over two weeks back (God how time flies) that I'd have something up, I was pretty wrong about my schedule cleaning up though. I do plan to have something up tomorrow, though. I'm exhausted tonight, and I really don't think I could write something coherent.

Sorry, sorry. I know. It sucks.

@The Captain

No worries! I can't exactly moan at people for getting bogged down by RL :P

Glad to see that most are still here

Plague of the North

Roll Call

Fat Boy Kyle

Torack

Partisan

Denalz

Rivaan

RIengo

The Captain

Rare

Centimane (away)

Senor Herp

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

As the battle reached its apex, Alastair was forced to pause and turn at the sound of loud screeching. A mysterious woman stood upon the stern, her features hard to make out with the bright light emanating around her. “Uh oh-” Alastair gasped before jumping to the side, narrowly avoiding the devastating beam that was fired at the dark monstrosity. He curled up into a fetal position, shut his eyes and covered his ears as the energy tore apart the Harbinger that stood a mere few feet away. He was scared, and with more than a few good reasons. Whatever this magic was, it was powerful, and Alastair knew from various experiences that it was a bad idea to risk getting caught in such a spell. As the bubble exploded the force sent Alastair rolling a few metres and the ship rocked viciously against a wave, causing the wooden hull to let out a long drawn out creek. Alastair opened his eyes and was relieved to see that their foe had been vanquished. If there had been any doubts in his mind as to whether or not this voyage would prove interesting, they were now laid fully to rest.

“Christ, that fucker can kick.” Came the nearby voice of the Captain. Alastair turned his head to see Emilio already standing over him, offering him a hand to get up. He gladly took the hand and pulled himself to his feet, his joints clicking as he rose. There was a brief moment as he came face to face with the Captain, a shared moment of understanding as they locked eyes and both were clearly thankful of the other. Alastair gave a small smile and a gentle nod before the Captain then made his way over to the others.

“I really need to learn how to do that” Alastair mused out loud as he spotted the source of the light beam, “…whatever the hell that was.” Without stopping to stand about and celebrate, Alastair slowly made his way downstairs. Fresh bruises already seemed to be covering his body from the fight and the various falls he had taken that day, and he winced slightly with every other step. Once he made his way back to his bunk he began to apply some balms and lotions to himself, forgetting his earlier apprehension about people seeing that he had medicines. At this point in time he was well and truly exhausted, and no sooner had he finished rubbing in the moistures did he slip into a deep sleep.

---

It felt as if no time at all had passed when Alastairs eyes sluggishly dragged open. Epu’s strong hands were firmly grasped on his shoulders, a small shaking motion ensuring that he did not instantly drop back off. “Wake up Welshman, the Captain wants all non-vital personal on deck.” Ordered the Captain’s man, a hint of sympathy on his voice.

“Eugh-ru-uhhhhh-blurrrr” Alastair incoherently babbled in response, but Epu had already moved on to wake others. Alastair struggled to keep his eyes open, and even when he succeeded they were slow to focus. The presence of sunlight seeping through the floorboards above suggested that he had managed to get some sleep, but it certainly did not feel enough. He tongue was painfully dry, as was his throat and skin. What little he could taste was the vile remnants of the alcohol the night before, it’s flavour now akin to mix of old badger piss and mud; the taste was so strong in fact that he could not work his nose. “I- hurrr- hate hu- hurr- hangovers” he grumbled to no-one in particular, feeling like he was about to puke with every word. For the second time in as many days Alastair found himself flopping out of his hammock, this time because he lacked the balance to even attempt a safe dismount.

“Humph. He obviously didn’t take part in the battle last night; he clearly hit the bottle instead.” Hissed a nearby woman holding her young child in her arms.

“A drunken old man like that ought to be ashamed of himself! He’d be goin’ to Hell had anything happened to us last night.” Chimed in another, equally displeased woman. They had clearly taken shelter the night before and really had little grounds to have a go at him, especially given that he had in fact taken part. He wasn’t going to argue though, and instead simply ignored them and tried to make his way to the upper deck.

Plague of the North

Tempted to make a wiki site for this, just because there's getting to be too much lore for the wiki section on here.

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

<Snipped quote by The New Yorker>

I'll get the link for it so you can see.

Said Link.

@MacabreFox

I do like those. I did one of my RP actually, although it's not as well presented as yours!