Fat Boy Kyle

Across the Great Sea - A Witcher RP (OPEN / STILL IN INTRO STAGE)

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King Krios
Bastion Keep – Telchar
Mid-afternoon

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King Krios sat against one of the many stone window frames that lined one of the south-eastern corridors of Bastion Keep. From here one could gaze down at the ships below as they came and went from the port, or simply gaze across the Great Sea towards other unseen lands. The King was lost in a trail of thoughts when a rain-drop brought him back to reality. His light hazel eyes looked up towards the skies where dark clouds were drifting in from the sea.

Footsteps from behind caused the large chubby man to turn, only to see one of his advisors quickly pacing up towards him. “Your Highness!” came the breathless high-pitched voice of his cousin, “We have received a letter from the Mercean Empire. It appears that the rumours we’ve been hearing are true; Prince Lorcan is on his way to the City of Telchar as an ambassador. Likely with the goal of stopping us from supplying their enemies.”

Krios gave out a low-pitched exaggerated chortle in response, causing his advisor to become all the more nervous about the situation. The King then lightly shook his balding head and combed his fat fingers through his long dark beard. “Lorcan? That’s King Greagoir’s runt isn’t it? I haven’t seen him since he was a child. He was a goby vicious little shit back then, and I can’t imagine him marrying into the Mercean Empire has improved his character.”

“No sir, in fact he’s gained quite the dark reputation. What are your orders sir?”

“My orders?” smirked the King, “I don’t have any! Go bother the small council with this, that’s why I have you advisors after all.”

The advisor did not look all too surprised, giving a small bow before running back off from where he came from. Although the arrival of foreign diplomats and emissaries was not usually a big event (in fact it was a rather frequent occurrence), this situation was different. If things did not go well, not only could the City of Telchar be branded an enemy of the empire and officially be dragged into the war, but given the Princes lineage, the city of Telchar could even face war with their southern neighbours - the Kingdom of Moorwind. Even so, it was not enough to garner the King's direct involvement or interest. And truth be told, that was probably for the best.

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Captain Artorias
Town Hall - Central District - City of Telchar
Mid-afternoon

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”Urgh, typical. I forget to take my clothes off the line before I leave for work and it starts hammering it down.” The Captain sighed as he peered out of his office window in the upper floor of the Town Hall. From there he was able to see the citizens of the city start scrambling for shelter around the skirts of the main square, where the buildings had more cover. Some of the merchants desperately began packing away their goods, hoping to prevent damage and spoiling, whilst others stood firm beneath their own little stall roofs and canopies.

“That’s why you need a wife (or two), so you have someone to do all that boring crap for you whilst you’re out doing real work.” Chirped in another town guard, who sat with his feet rested up on one of the tables. His name was Monroe, a scruffy looking meathead in his late thirties, who served as the other Guard Captain of the Central District. His skin was darkened, leathery and scarred – the result of years fighting and being out in the sun. He had no hair left on his head, but you couldn’t tell this from the barbute that he wore. Like Artorias, he wore Captain’s garb consisting of a dark blue doublet and plate cuirass, shoulders and greaves.

”You see, it’s pathetic talk like that which drove away your last two wives.” replied Artorias with a grin, “…it’s fortunate I have such a big bed.”

“Fuck you!” laughed Monroe, launching his cup of water towards his comrade. “What are you still doing here anyway? I’m here now, which means you’re relieved. You can go chase chickens, or visit a brothel, or whatever it is you do in your own time.”

“You’re early, I’ve still got a little while left on my shift. I’ll at least wait to see what this gentleman wants…” Artorias gave a nod towards an older looking man who was making his way up the corridor towards them. The older man was visibly shaking as he approached, with tears flooding from his bloodshot eyes. ”Can I help you sir?”

“I-I- erm- Yes please. It’s my daughter, she-“ as the man’s words fell off his tongue he began to weep, too distraught to explain. The two Captains shared a glance and Monroe quickly jumped to his feet and whistled a couple of their subordinates over.

“Sir, please listen to my voice. I know this is hard. But if you don’t explain what’s happened we won’t be able to help. Take a deep breath and tell us what’s going on.”

The old man nodded quickly as he tried to hold back his emotions. He could not bring himself to raise his head as he recomposed. “My daughter, Alisha. She helps me sell my tools on the market. She’s a short less, just a little over 5ft and she has her mother’s brown hair. The prettiest blue eyes…” The old man let out a few whimpers before continuing, “She was down in my basement, my workshop, helping me pack up some of my wares. I went upstairs and heard a terrible crash. When I went back down there was a hole in the wall and I could see the sewers beneath us. And she was gone, my little baby girl was gone!”

”And did you see anything else?”

“Aye, I did. I saw one of them fucking drowners! And I know what one looks like, I saw enough of them when I was in the navy!”

”I see. Men, take this gentleman back to his home and secure the area. When he’s calmed down try to get more information from him.” Artorias ordered, and with that the two guards that had come over led the man away.

“Shit. We haven’t got the men to go on a sewer hunt – not for one girl anyway.” Monroe said, scratching thoughtfully at the bristles on the side of his face. “It’s no use sending just a couple of guards down, as they’ll either get butchered, lost, or they might just spend days down there with no luck. Maybe we ought to let the Warriors of Manannan know – they love dealing with this sort of shit.”

Artorias grimaced at Monroe’s suggestion. The relationship (or rather rivalry) between the City Guard and the Warriors could be tense at times anyway, but Artorias has recently lost all faith in the Church and their fanatical vigilantes. “You’re right – we haven’t got the manpower to send our own down into the sewers on a hunt. But given the other rumours of drowner sightings, this could be a bigger problem. And I don’t want to get the Church involved.”

“So what do you suggest?”

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Reward: 200 Crowns

In response to the recent disappearance of Alisha Black, the City Guard is offering up to 200 crowns for her safe return. If you have any information regarding her disappearance or if you are looking to take up this contact, then please speak to Captain Artorias or Captain Monroe in the Town Hall for additional information. It is believed that she was last seen in the sewers beneath the city, so a large group is advised.

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Wanted: ‘Fleetfoot’ Fergus
Reward: 25 Crowns

The City Guard is offering 25 Crowns for the death or capture of ‘Fleetfoot’ Fergus. He is wanted for two counts of murder, three counts of rape, and one count of robbery. It is believed he has ties to groups operating out of the Craft’s District. He is described as a ‘petite’ man, with a height of around 5ft5 and a slim build. He has short black hair. White skin. He is said to have a scar running up the back of his neck to his left ear. Despite his size, he thought to be an excellent fighter and should be considered dangerous.

Across the Great Sea - A Witcher RP (OPEN / STILL IN INTRO STAGE)

See post 1 of the OOC for a summary of the IC so far

Intro Music

Prologue

Four Weeks Ago – Commons, Telchar

“Maker have mercy…” whispered the old man between quavering lips. A cold sweat beginning to form beads along his pale wrinkled forehead. Even as a Witcher, Jaspar had never seen anything quite like what was before him. He felt something unusual, something foreign to him… he felt a shiver of fear. The man raised his rough calloused hands to his head and let his fingers glide through his dirty black locks, reaching the itchy scalp beneath. He had heard rumours of the killings, of the grim horror stories surrounding them – its what brought him to this wretched city after all – but he didn’t expect the stories to be so accurate.

Before him laid a dozen bodies, gorged to death, their entrails and sticky bits Strawn over the floors and furniture like seasonal decorations. Had he not known better, he might have thought such an attack would have required a pack of werewolves. But, despite the gory mess, there were no signs of fighting; no broken or misplaced furniture, no dulled or bloodied weapons, and what was left of the bodies laid in a circle around the centre of the room. Neighbours, from what he understood, did not hear any fighting either, just the wailing of a little girl.

“Well this must’ve been the poor girl” he grumbled as he trod through the mess to the centre of the room, his boots squelching with each step. In the centre laid one body which, unlike the others, had not been ripped apart. It was clear from her grotesque size, skin colouration, and clothing stains, that she had been the one responsible for eating the bodies around her. He swept away the blood stained blonde hair from her face for closer inspection. “Couldn’t have been any older than ten.” He guessed outloud whilst shutting her eyelids. The puke and mess leaking from her mouth suggested that her feasting was what killed her, “Her body obviously wasn’t made for eating raw flesh. Must have been a horrible slow death.”

He had seen carnivorous and cannibalistic monsters in the past, like Nekkers that had gotten so fat that they could hardly move. But this was different. Externally, she showed no signs of being non-human and moreover, his medallion wasn’t moving at all. His feline eyes scoured her body for signs of clues, but there was nothing – no marks, no scratches, no symbols, no defects at all save for the bloating. He tried using his nose, but aside from the expected stench of rotten flesh and human waste, there was nothing in the room that seemed to stick out. With no other options, Jaspar unsheathed a dagger from his belt holster and began a butcher-shop autopsy. Diving straight in at the gut and dragging his blade up towards her throat, he allowed the mass of gore to seep out, along with a fresher more repugnant scent. It was enough even to make the Witcher wince and hold his breath for a moment before digging around. Despite his thorough rummaging, Jaspar could not find anything that would give him answers. Her organs, though damaged through the gorging, seemed human. There didn’t even appear to be any drugs or magical items stuffed into her either.

“This isn’t right…” his bushy brows furrowed in irritation, “She is definitely human. Was she forced to eat her family? What could make her do that? What monster or creature would benefit from that?” Jasper continued his search, desperately looking for some sort of clue that would at least start him off in the right direction. So desperate was his search that he failed to hear the approaching sounds of footsteps outside until too late.

“What happened to the guards?!” exclaimed a coarse voice from outside, swiftly followed by a chorus of jeering and mumbling.

“Shit!” Jaspar hissed, quickly shooting upright and scanning the building for a second way out.

But it was too late.

With a mighty smash, the front door of the small house quickly caved in, allowing half a dozen figures to storm in. Each wore different armour, but one feature remained the same: a dark blue featureless mask. They were the Warriors of Manannan, the secret police of the local church, whose job was to hunt down witches and other abominations. “Halt fiend!” shouted the burliest of the lot, his sword poised and ready.

Jaspar, although a good fighter, was past his prime and knew better than to try and take the group on. “Woah. Easy there. I was just investigating. We’re dealing with something very nasty here.” He spoke softly as he slowly unstrapped the swords from his back and tossed them away. Even disarmed, the mess that covered his clothes and the room around them made him look dangerous. “I’m happy to comply and speak to your leaders.”

“Silence!” snapped a voice from the left, causing Jaspar to turn just the warrior threw dimeritium dust in his face. Jaspar recoiled as the metal fragments went into his eyes and let out a small gasp of pain. Dimeritium of course is a substance used to block magic, and so for Jaspar this was very problematic; not only did it mean that he would be unable to cast signs, but it also caused the charm which disguised his mutations to ware-off. His golden feline eyes now glaring angrily at his attackers. Without giving Jaspar a chance to react, another warrior stooped in to ensure that Jaspar would no longer be a threat, efficiently slicing his sword across the back of the mutant's heels and rendering him immobilised. Jaspar fell to the floor in a slump, blinded and writhing in pain, roaring like the monster his captors thought him to be.

“Gag it and take it to the Temple! The Bishops will want to interrogate it!”

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Three Weeks Ago – Central Main Square, Telchar

Hordes of humans, elves and dwarves alike littered the public square, cheering merrily, and shouting for the show to begin. To the outside eye it would have looked like some kind of public festival – and truth be told, that wasn’t far off. Due to the diligence of the Church over the last half a century, these sort of spectacles had become a rarity in the city of Telchar, and so when such an event came around, the public savoured the opportunity and gave in to some of their more primal instincts.

“Nothing like a good ole monster burning, eh lad?” came the intoxicated slur of an almost stereotypical rowdy bearded dwarf, who held in his hand a flagon almost as big as his head. “I’d heard bad things about these foreign Witchers, but I didn’t realise they were capable of the shit that’s been happening recently.”

The gentleman that had the pleasure of hearing these delightful insights was one of the local guard captains, a young blonde haired man by the name of Artorias. The young guard was a bastion of discipline, with short cropped hair, a freshly shaved face, and shining plate armour. Artorias did not respond to the dwarf and instead kept his eyes fixed on the stake in the near distance. Whatever he thought of monsters, mutants and witches, he hated the idea of making anything suffer unnecessarily. To make a public event of burning a sentient being alive? It did not sit with him well, but he felt obliged to be there to keep the peace. Such was the duty of a guard.

“Oooo! It’s *hic* starting!” squealed the dwarf in delight.

At the edge of the square four Warriors of Manannan began to tie the broken body of Jaspar the Witcher to the stake, a large beam of wood that rose from what would soon be a large pyre. His legs were mangled and his body torn and scarred in such a way that it even hurt to look at. Clearly, he had only survived the torture this long due to being a Witcher and the genetic mutations he had received. Still there was a fight in his animalistic eyes, a burning fire within.

As the warriors continued to prepare the Witcher, one of the Church’s Bishops took to the raised podium to address the crowd. He wore rusty blue coloured scale armour beneath darker blue tattered robes. Unlike the Warriors, his face was unobscured and showed off an angry elderly face, with an unkempt grey beard and tattered long wiry hair. In any other city his appearance would have led one to believe that he was a raving madman, or perhaps some sort of soothsayer, but in the fine city of Telchar it signaled that he was one of the Church’s five leaders. “Good citizens of Telchar! I see that once again you have come out in waaaves to support the Church! To praise Manannan!” The Bishop paused for a moment to let the crowd cheer, “Know that he is proud! For today we burn a vile monster! A beast known as a Witcher! The same beast that has killed so many innocent families over the last few months! Finally, we can have retribution!”

“You fool! I am not the monster you seek! There is a darkness that lurks this city, a darkness far more dangerous than me! Your fucking sea God is more of a monster than me!” The coarse beaten voice of Jaspar rang out surprisingly loud, as if he had saved all his remaining strength for that moment.

“Heretic! You will not speak another word!” The Bishop yelled back, pointing his old knobbly finger in the Witchers direction. “You will be burned and fed to the sea! Like all the damnations that dare threaten our great city!”

As if on cue, the four Warriors of Manannan finished tightening the bonds and walked over to a nearby brazier, each picking up a flaming torch.

"Oh great conqueror, absolver, and savior!" boomed the Bishop in prayer, the crowds repeating after him in devout chorus.

The four Warriors walked slowly over to the pyre, each taking position on a corner.

"To you we give our thanks! And to us you give your Mercy!"

The Warriors slowly dropped to a knee and held the torches up in prayer.

"To you we offer the wicked! May we burn the sin from our city! We may save our souls!"

The Bishop turned to the pyre, a bloodthirsty smile across his face, and slowly raised his hands as if rising the flames himself. "Praise be to Manannan!"

With that the warriors set alight to the pyre which, due to the oils, quickly rose and engulfed Jaspar. Vivid tones of orange and purple swirled around in an almost majestic way that seemed to detract from an otherwise awful seen. Though hard to see through the flames, the Witchers body quickly began to melt and boil, the special oils preventing him from simply being charred. The last inhumane cries of pain and terror were quickly drowned out by the cheering of the crowd, who watched on with bloodlust in their eyes.

Across the Great Sea - A Witcher RP (OPEN / STILL IN INTRO STAGE)

A Witcher Roleplay - Open - Looking for GMs



<sup>Wolves asleep amidst the trees, Bats all a-swaying in the breeze,
But one soul lies anxious wide awake, Fearing all manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths.

Birds are silent for the night, Cows turned in as daylight dies, But one soul lies anxious wide awake.
For the witcher, brave and bold, Paid in coin of gold, He’ll chop and slice you, Cut and dice you.
Eat. You. Up. Whole. Eat. You. Whole.

-THEME-</sup>

Fan-Fiction | Fantasy | Monsters

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The Setting:

Set roughly fifty years before the events of the Witcher Game Series, and across the Great Sea on the non-canonical continent of Aridia. This RP sees players dropped into the Free City of Telchar, a large medieval metropolis ruled by an authoritarian religion and which is infested with all manner of monsters. One in particular has left a string of bodies in its wake and is causing the public to panic.

Will your character be one of the few Witchers on the Continent hunting monsters? A Warrior of the Church hellbent on chasing another players Witch? An assassin of Lords? Or maybe just a simple guard trying to fight battles way out their league?

This RP will be a mature one, containing strong themes like violence, sex and drugs. It also has a horror element to it. Please be warned.

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Rules/Things to consider:

Not as bad as it looks

• I want this to be as lore-friendly as possible. However I do acknowledge that this is fan-fiction and is set entirely in a non-canonical place. Still, no flame breathing flying Ogres or Lu Bu clones.
• This is listed as "Casual" and "18+", not "Free Roleplay" and "Child Friendly". I expect posts to be at least a couple of paragraphs long, and these should be fairly fleshed out. I would say that this is more 'high-casual', though I know some despise the term.
• The odd grammatical error is fine. God knows that this whole post is probably riddled with them. However posts need to be readable and not detract from the RP. If we're having to re-read sentences to try and make sense of your writing, then this RP is not for you. I tend to operate a three strike rule on particularly bad grammar. If the mistakes are easy to gloss over (e.g. you put "their" instead of "there"), you won't get a strike - it's only if your posts are becoming a chore to read.
• This RP won’t see players forcefully huddled together as part of a single team. Instead players will be given free-reign over what their character does, where they go, and who they do and do not speak to. Your player can form their own group and sit in the corner of the world in a cave for all I care. This not only encourages creativity but means that if someone drops out it can be more easily explained. Also means people can join at will. I would prefer people to stay relatively close to the City for the time being though, purely for the sake of keeping everyone in the same time (if someone makes their character cross the sea and back in one post, they’re not going to be in the same point in time as other players).
• In addition to the above, whilst I will technically have my own character and will be writing for a couple of notable NPCs here and there, I will not be actively be engaging in the RP in the same way as everyone else. This is because: a) I sometimes think when GMs have characters it can become a game of "follow the leader"; and b) because I want you all to be able to make the RP flourish without me holding your hands - I'm just here to moderate more than anything.
• Players should strive for balance and feasibleness. Even if you decide to go Witcher, you’re not Geralt or Ciri. You’re not a witch that can topple the entire city in the blink of an eye.
• I would like your characters to progress, both personally and in regards to skills and weapons. Therefore start with crap armour and stuff please. Depending on what characters people make, there is going to be some imbalance though – I just hope you’re all mature enough to work towards a good story rather than simply trying to make the strongest character.
• You can have followers and create/kill NPCs at your will.
• You can be any of the major races (e.g. Human, Elf, Dwarf). I will allow some monster players, depending on how good/balanced their Character Sheets are.
• There will be multiple plot-lines which I’ll weave in with various methods. One for example will be me posting rumours which you can then have your character hear IC. You can however make your own ones up! You can even be a dick and interfere in other players made-up plots!
• You can fight and kill each other! I encourage your CHARACTERS to be dicks to each other, but not if that means you PLAYERS being dicks to each other. Agreeing to collabing an epic battle OOC = awesome. Not talking OOC and then suddenly shooting another character in the eye = bit of a dick move. And try not to swear or use bad language too much, dicks.
• I am an awful GM. Just awful. I will unexpectedly drop off the face of the Earth for months when adult life requires a degree of adulting. If you are happy to casually go on without me or usurp me then this RP should be fine. If however this is likely to cause problems in your mind, then I suggest you jump out of the nearest window. Really need a good one or two GMs to account for me inevitably dropping off the face of the earth.

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Background Lore

For this RP, you will definitely benefit from having read the books, played the games, or at least taking a look at the wiki. Though I should note as someone who's not read the books, this RP is going to borrow much more from the game series. For those that aren’t too familiar with the series or those that are maybe just a bit rusty, here are some important bits of background lore of the Witcher World mixed with the new lore for this new location.

Lore

Conjunction of the Spheres

"A cataclysm which occurred 1,500 years ago, trapping in our dimension many unnatural creatures, including ghouls, graveirs and vampires. These beasts have no ecological niches of their own and are merely relics of bygone times.

According to elven lore, humans arrived during the Conjunction, their own world having been destroyed. These human ancestors learned how to harness the power of primordial Chaos, and thus the first human wizards were born. Looking for a place in the world, humans took up arms against the Elder Races, who were unable to withstand the barbarians and ultimately surrendered. This is how humans came to rule the world."

Unlike in the Northern Kingdoms, the Elder Races (Dwarves, Elves, etc.) are not prosecuted and live in relative harmony with humans. There are some exceptions to this of course, notably within the Mercean Empire, and there are always racists within every society.

Witchers

" A witcher (or hexer) is someone who has undergone extensive training, ruthless mental and physical conditioning, and mysterious rituals (which take place at "witcher schools" such as Kaer Morhen) in preparation for becoming an itinerant monsterslayer for hire."

“People need witchers, but are simultaneously afraid of them. The itinerant warriors inspire fear because they are mutants and have superhuman powers. A witcher is rarely a welcome guest and contacts with members of this profession are almost always limited to business. Witchers are invariably attacked during pogroms and social upheavals directed against those who deal in magic. Mutagens and magic render witchers' bodies resistant to all kinds of disease, even to the point of outright immunity.”

Witchers are a relatively new addition to the continent. Around two hundred years ago, Witchers from the Bear School went on an expedition across the sea in search of a King’s Son. They never found the son, and it was only by sheer luck that they ever managed to make the voyage to these new lands. The four witchers, dismayed at the prevalence of monsters in these lands, created a new School – The Lost Bear School, as an adaption of theirs. Although some natives have been happy to have these new individuals deal with their monster problems, many look at Witchers with fear and disdain. Their Headquarters is Mossdale Caverns, a caved keep which they share with a pre-existing clan of dwarves, in the Korathi Heartlands (the only state openly welcoming of Witchers).

Mages

"Only rare individuals have the potential to become mages and many of those with this potential are doomed to madness. Unless the individual in question - known as a source - learns to control their power quickly, he or she may end up a half-insane, slobbering oracle. That is why schools of sorcery were created, where talented children study for many years, acquiring knowledge and mastering magical skills. Because of their powers, mages age more slowly than ordinary people. They can extract magical energy from the four elements, transport themselves long distances and heal, as well as kill, in the blink of an eye. They have extensive scientific and political knowledge; in the latter respect, many mages are the equals of rulers.”

Witches and Mages are generally disliked for the same reasons as they are in the Northern Kingdoms and Nilfgaard – they can be very dangerous. Although there are various small secret societies, mages are for the most part isolated from their brethren and often find themselves alone in a world that hates them. Many as a result hide their abilities, or risk being hunted and burned at the stake.

Monsters

The world is full of monsters, of varying sizes, shapes and nature. Each type has its own strengths and weaknesses, many of which have been cataloged over the years in various books. Some monsters are more sentient than others, and not all are evil. Most however are hated. I don’t mind if people want to create their own original monsters or variants of existing ones – within reason of course (again, no fire-breathing flying ogres).

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The Story So Far

Here is the notable history of this RP, including a couple of preluding events. Hopefully this section will make it easier for new blood to join. I'll do my best to update this with key events as the RP goes on. If you think there is anything missing or incorrect, please let me know!

Hider

Around 200 years before the RP starts, Witcher's from the Bear School went on an expedition across the Great Sea in search of a prince. They failed to ever complete this task, but found themselves washed upon this mysterious continent. They would eventually set up a new Witcher School - The Lost Bear School.

Around 130 years before the RP starts, a giant sea monster/god appeared in the Sea near the City of Telchar, causing tonnes of fish to wash up on the shore. This saved a starving population and gave birth to the Church of Manannan.

Around a decade before the RP starts, the Mercean Empire declared war on the Kingdom of Himeria. The free city of Telchar has since been supplying Himeria with an abundance of weapons and armour.

Just before the RP started, the city of Telchar began to suffer from a string of mysterious and gruesome killings. An old Witcher by the name Jaspar was blamed and burned alive by the Church.

At the start of the RP, a local craftsman reported to the town guard that his daughter had been kidnapped by monsters living in the sewers. A contract for her safe return has been put up around the city. A bounty has also gone up for a local criminal.

Some of the characters in the RP have just arrived in the city, and some of these have found themselves drawn to The Jolly Lion Inn.

Kieran (a witcher), Keggar (a dwarf) and Niavak (a sellsword), are currently talking to Guard Captain Monroe about taking on the contract to find the missing daughter. The other characters in the RP are still in the 'intro' stage of the RP and have not yet committed to any particular story line.

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If you are interested then of course say so! Please fill out a character sheet and then post it in the OOC for review! I am an advocate of community review, whereby players review each others character sheets; I think it's good to air criticisms straight away. Don't be too harsh when reviewing a CS. Don't get too defensive when a CS flaw is exposed. And don't go off in a hump if your first CS is rejected. I don't mind if you want to fluff up the sheet a bit.

Character Sheet

[hider=Artorias]
[CENTER][I]Character Theme –[/I] [URL=LINK]TITLE OF MUSIC[/URL] <OPTIONAL<
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[IMG]LINK TO A PICTURE GOES HERE[/IMG] <OPTIONAL<
[color=COLOR][h2]NAME GOES HERE[/h2][/color]
[i]WRITEN PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION GOES HERE[/i]

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[color=COLOR]【[U]Alias[/U]】[/color]
Nicknames? Codenames? Previous names?

[color=COLOR]【[U]Race[/U]】[/color]
Human? Elf? Dwarf?

[color=COLOR]【[U]Gender[/U]】[/color]
Do golems have a gender?

[color=COLOR]【[U]Age[/U]】[/color]
16+

[color=COLOR]【[U]Sexuality[/U]】[/color]
Very?

[color=COLOR]【[U]Birth Place[/U]】[/color]
The womb of misfortune?

[color=COLOR]【[U]Nation/Allegiance[/U]】[/color]
Born in Telhar, but praises the sun!

[color=COLOR]【[U]Profession[/U]】[/color]
Baker? Witcher? Monster?

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[color=COLOR]【[U]Personality[/U]】[/color]
What kind of person are they? Do they have any ticks? Etc etc.

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[color=COLOR]【[U]History[/U]】[/color]
Please tell us about your character's history.

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[color=COLOR]【[U]Skills and Abilities[/U]】[/color]
[b]EXAMPLE SKILL[/b] - Hurls random examples at foes. Was born with this innate ability.

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[color=COLOR]【[U]Weapons/Tools and Magic[/U]】[/color]
Please list your weapons n stuff. Save room for development.

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[color=f7976a]【[U]Other[/U]】 [/color]
Dialogue colour: [color=COLOR]Murky orange?[/color]
AOB

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Occult Regulation Office: A Mature Wizarding World Anthology

Arthur Stone:

Arthur is pretty much bang on 6ft and is of medium build. Although not a complete health freak, he is fit enough for the job and doesn’t have an awful lot of excess fat. His hair has already started going slightly grey despite his relatively young age, particularly on his beard. He tends to dress smart, often opting to wear a suite with a waistcoat and overcoat.

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Name:Arthur Stone
Alias & Nicknames: ‘Dusty’ to close friends
Age: 35
Place of Origin: United Kingdom

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Blood Status: Pure-Blood
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationships Status: Single

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Wand Staff:
Wood: Acacia | Core: Basilisk blood
Arthur uses a heavily runed and charmed wooden staff named ‘Namor’. Through transfiguration, it can turn into a snake; as such the shape it takes when it ‘stiffens’ for use as a staff can vary. In the same way that small, neater wands are better suited to elegant refined spell-casting, Arthur’s staff is better suited to cruder spell-casting. Again, like a wand, his Staff is loyal to him.

Education:
Initially Hogwarts (Ravenclaw House), but home-schooled since around the age of 13.

Speciality:
Ancient Runes and Wandlore.

Experience as a Regulator:
5 years.

Partner:
Sebastian Montague

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Biography:
Arthur was born to Richard and Lilia Stone, both pure-blood wizards with promising careers in archaeology. Young life was, for the most part, relatively uneventful for Arthur – well, as far as wizarding lives are concerned. His parents, both very academic, made sure that he had a good education growing up and it seemed his future was bright. The first tragedy in Arthurs life occurred when he was seven. Unfortunately, his mother died in childbirth due to complications, along with what would have been his younger sister. Even with magic to aid them, some dire events are of course unavoidable. Although they were heartbroken, both Arthur and his father were able to move on with their lives and became closer as a result.

When Arthur was ten he enrolled into Hogwarts, just a few years behind Harry Potter, and was sorted into Ravenclaw. He only spent a couple of years there however, as following the events of the 1994 Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament, his father pulled him out of the school. Not willing to risk losing someone else dear to him, Richard began home-schooling his son and made him an apprentice archaeologist. As a result, during the events of the Second Wizarding War Arthur spent most of his time far removed from the rest of the wizarding world, in forgotten ruins and lairs.

For just under twenty years, Arthur and his farther explored ancient sites all over the wizarding world, discovering long-lost secrets and lore. It became a passion that he shared with his father (and by extension his late mother). During this period, Arthur became particularly interested in Ancient Runes, as it became practically an essential component of understanding old texts of carvings. Moreover he became interested in how runes and charms could be applied to other objects, which led him into investigating wandlore (and particularly staff crafting). Eventually he would use the knowledge he accumulated to create his staff Namor – with the help of some old tomes of course.

This period of his life came to an end when he witnessed the second tragedy of his life – the death of his father. The details can be saved for another time, but in short: coming across an old Gringwart Goff in a cave is not a pleasant experience. Arthur was unable to save his father, nor avenge him, and only managed to escape narrowly himself. It was this event which made him want to become a regulator…

Notes:
Dialogue colour: Yellowgreen
Patronus: Great Grey Owl
Bogart: Gringwart Goff
Other: Arthur carries around a small locked book in his inside pocket. The pages inside are blank, as entries are absorbed into the book so that any can be recounted on at a whim. Arthur notes that it would be hard to read without knowing what you were looking for. Not only does it contain his and his father’s old research, but he sometimes uses it for case notes, so he guards it with his life.

Arthur's Impressions

Emory Corrigan – “Most of us have lost a lot, and Emory is no exception. But when Daisy died… I don’t know how he managed to keep on going like he did. He’s a good guy and I’m glad we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Isadora Albescu Fuji and Nichole Arminstance – “I’ve not worked with either, but I’ve heard good things. Namor gets a bit tetchy around them, but then again he does whenever he’s near an animagius.”

Florian Sabinov – “Guy knows a fair bit about the Dark Arts, at least for his age. I wonder how far he’ll be willing to pursue it… *Grumbles*… Certainly handy to have in a scrum though!”

Kieran McMillan – “Ah lycanthropy! Most people shudder at the term, but it’s got quite the interesting history. In some ancient wizarding cultures, werewolves were actually venerated! The same cannot be said for poor Kieran though – it seems those around him would rather tease or shun him.”

Velvet Gertrude Moon – “What do I think of our resident ‘artisan’? Pffffft! She may be able to mend the odd wand and broom, but she has much to learn. Still, I suppose I should be glad that I’m not responsible for repairs – Namor has a tendency to get jealous.”

Natalia Jade DeVito – “Nat joined ORO around the same time as me, and I’m glad she did. She’s a smart woman and I’ve always enjoyed having her around; if for naught else but to share in some work-place nostalgia every now and then.”

Athos Du Vallon – “Athos? Not worked with him yet, but he seems to dislike me. I think it’s because Namor keeps trying to eat his crows…”

Felix Twycross – “Ah yes, the Doctor! How could I forget! Scoundrel is always trying to pinch my tomes – typical brummie haha! He’s a nice enough chap really, and having a healer around in this job can make a big difference.”

Sebastian Montague - "The new fellow is... new. That's about all I can say. What was his name again?" "Apparently Sebastian is to be my new partner - suppose in a way it makes sense to match the oldest with the newest. I hope he's prepared for ORO work..."

Richard Baar - "Usually a tend to clash with jar-head types, but I actually find Dick rather enjoyable. Wait. Let me rephrase that."

Tariq Moham Lerius - "Always seems to be the quiet one hidden in the corner, but if you can get him to speak you'll find he can be quite insightful. I know him and Emory don't seem to get along though, which baffles me."

Zara Greenwood - "The resident mind-reader. When I first learned of her prowess with legilimency, I began to try think in ancient tongues. Didn't last very long though - ultimately one always reverts back to their mother tongue in the sanctuary of their own minds. I hope she doesn't listen to my thoughts too often, as I would be awfully embarrassed if she heard how pretty I thought she was."

The Caretaker - "What a truly fascinating individual. I often find myself in obscure conversations with the Caretaker, and I'm always keen to learn more about him and the secrets buried beneath. I know that some of the new regulators can take a while getting used to him, but that's not unexpected; people fear the odd and the unknown."

Occult Regulation Office: A Mature Wizarding World Anthology

Here! Take another one!

Arthur Stone:

Arthur is pretty much bang on 6ft and is of medium build. Although not a complete health freak, he is fit enough for the job and doesn’t have an awful lot of excess fat. His hair has already started going slightly grey despite his relatively young age, particularly on his beard. He tends to dress smart, often opting to wear a suite with a waistcoat and overcoat.

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Name:Arthur Stone
Alias & Nicknames: ‘Dusty’ to close friends
Age: 35
Place of Origin: United Kingdom

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Blood Status: Pure-Blood
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Relationships Status: Single

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Wand Staff:
Wood: Acacia | Core: Basilisk blood
Arthur uses a heavily runed and charmed wooden staff named ‘Namor’. Through transfiguration, it can turn into a snake; as such the shape it takes when it ‘stiffens’ for use as a staff can vary. In the same way that small, neater wands are better suited to elegant refined spell-casting, Arthur’s staff is better suited to cruder spell-casting. Again, like a wand, his Staff is loyal to him.

Education:
Initially Hogwarts (Ravenclaw House), but home-schooled since around the age of 13.

Speciality:
Ancient Runes and Wandlore.

Experience as a Regulator
5 years.

---

---

Biography:
Arthur was born to Richard and Lilia Stone, both pure-blood wizards with promising careers in archaeology. Young life was, for the most part, relatively uneventful for Arthur – well, as far as wizarding lives are concerned. His parents, both very academic, made sure that he had a good education growing up and it seemed his future was bright. The first tragedy in Arthurs life occurred when he was seven. Unfortunately, his mother died in childbirth due to complications, along with what would have been his younger sister. Even with magic to aid them, some dire events are of course unavoidable. Although they were heartbroken, both Arthur and his father were able to move on with their lives and became closer as a result.

When Arthur was ten he enrolled into Hogwarts, just a few years behind Harry Potter, and was sorted into Ravenclaw. He only spent a couple of years there however, as following the events of the 1994 Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament, his father pulled him out of the school. Not willing to risk losing someone else dear to him, Richard began home-schooling his son and made him an apprentice archaeologist. As a result, during the events of the Second Wizarding War Arthur spent most of his time far removed from the rest of the wizarding world, in forgotten ruins and lairs.

For just under twenty years, Arthur and his farther explored ancient sites all over the wizarding world, discovering long-lost secrets and lore. It became a passion that he shared with his father (and by extension his late mother). During this period, Arthur became particularly interested in Ancient Runes, as it became practically an essential component of understanding old texts of carvings. Moreover he became interested in how runes and charms could be applied to other objects, which led him into investigating wandlore (and particularly staff crafting). Eventually he would use the knowledge he accumulated to create his staff Namor – with the help of some old tomes of course.

This period of his life came to an end when he witnessed the second tragedy of his life – the death of his father. The details can be saved for another time, but in short: coming across an old Gringwart Goff in a cave is not a pleasant experience. Arthur was unable to save his father, nor avenge him, and only managed to escape narrowly himself. It was this event which made him want to become a regulator…

Notes:
Dialogue colour: Yellowgreen
Patronus: Great Grey Owl
Bogart: Gringwart Goff
Other: Arthur carries around a small locked book in his inside pocket. The pages inside are blank, as entries are absorbed into the book so that any can be recounted on at a whim. Arthur notes that it would be hard to read without knowing what you were looking for. Not only does it contain his and his father’s old research, but he sometimes uses it for case notes, so he guards it with his life.

The Elder Scrolls: Corruption

FYI - I'm happy for someone to take the RP and roll with it.

Sanctuary

Anyone in any good rps?

Baybridge™: Era of the Old/New Gods™ [COMPLETED]

Sorry for disappearing btw. Laptop died then I got a new job. Hope my absence didn't cause any problems or contribute to apathy.

Baybridge™: Era of the Old/New Gods™ [COMPLETED]

@Fat Boy Kyle I don't know what you're going with Asuma, but he can run into Jennifer (and/or Veronica).

@Mr Allen J

That makes two of us haha. Could do, wanna collab?

Baybridge™: Era of the Old/New Gods™ [COMPLETED]

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Asuma Obokata.

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Havenfield Market, Roseview.

Asuma heard the violence before he saw or felt it. It began with a serious of loud sharp bangs, and was quickly followed by the sounds of screaming. Asuma and the others were just outside the DOVE exhibit when the shit hit the fan. Before he knew what was happening hordes of people began rushing out of the very entrances that he was trying to enter. Fear and adrenaline pushed the people forward in a desperate rush for survival, and the human stampede rolled over and crushed anyone that stood in its way.

“Shit! Run!” yelled Asuma, violently tugging at Rexx and one of the others, both of which had briefly been stunned by shock. As the two seemed to snap back into reality, the entire group began running away just as everyone else seemed to be. Quickly Asuma pulled off his stupid pumpkin hat and violently threw it aside so that he could actually have a good view of his surroundings and the chaos that was unfolding. They were running over the little open expanse on the north side of the exhibit, and dashed towards the rows of market stools ahead. The large crowds that were fleeing quickly dissipated from the area as they all ran off in various directions. Asuma had just about reached the false safety of the stalls when out of nowhere…

BOOOOOOM!

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Niklas Amundsson.

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Flight R-452

Large reclinable leather cream chair by a window, a little personal table covered in complementary snacks and drinks, a little TV screen, and no irritating little children – It was safe to say that Inspector Niklas was content with the first class seating on the flight from Washington DC to Baybridge. TIMRA covered the flight expense up to business class, but Niklas was happy to fork over the little extra himself for the upgrade. Given the amount of flying and travelling he did, he needed luxury seating.

“Hello Sir, is there anything I can get for you? More drinks? Another pillow?” Niklas turned his head and looked up at the source of the soft alluring voice – an attractive young flight attendant, with golden blond hair and a tight red uniform skirt. She flashed him a modest little smile, her teeth of perfectly formed and pearly white. She truly matched the image of a hot-flight attendant that the air-companies and movies liked to impose on the public, and Niklas wasn’t complaining.

“No thank you miss. I have everything I need.” He replied with a little smile as he patted his little desk in indication.

“Well if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. Our first priority is you.” As the attendant walked off towards another customer, Niklas couldn’t help but admire her tight peach derrière as it swayed with her every movement. His eyes only eventually trailed off her when his peripheral vision saw flashes of light emanating from his personal TV.

”Attack in Baybridge – Causalities not confirmed – Harvest Festival Targeted”

The scrolling headline on the news channel, along with the accompanying live helicopter stream, was more than enough to grab his attention. Understandably concerned for a number of reasons (including the fact that his plane was heading there), Niklas quickly scrambled for his headphones and plugged them in.

“Whilst we still do not know exactly what is going on down there, it is clear that there are a number of small scale battles going on and it’s safe to assume that there’s been a number of causalities. According to eye-witness reports coming through, individuals claim that the attackers bare resemblance to the attackers that were filmed attacking London recently.”

“Holy shit.” Niklas whispered before letting out a deep breath and letting his head sink back into the chair.

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Asuma Obokata.

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Havenfield Market, Roseview.

“What… the…” Asuma couldn’t tell whether or not he said those words out-loud, not that it really mattered. As his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the scene around him, he could tell some sort of blast had gone off. There was some light burning on his left side, leaving him feeling raw, and he could tell that he had broken one or two of his ribs. He must have been thrown by whatever the hell exploded.

“Hey, that one’s still alive!” came a strange muffled voice nearby, followed by a little menacing chuckle. Not that Asuma heard this – all he could hear was a painful ringing from the blast. “I’ll take care of him.”

Asuma tried to get to his feet, but could only get as far as going on all fours due to a loss of balance. It was whilst in this kneeled position with his head down that one of the Hound’s troopers gave Asuma a large kick to the side, sending him rolling onto his back. It caught the victim completely off guard and made it easier for the masked trooper to pin him down. One knee on Asuma’s right arm, one hand on Asuma’s left, and one hand wrapped tightly around his throat.

“I fucking love watching the light fade from their eyes.” The large man chuckled sadistically as he clenched his hand even tighter around Asuma’s throat.

It was a poor choice of words though.

Without warning, Asuma quickly focussed as much energy as he could into his eyes, sending out an intense beam of light and blinding his attacker. The attacker lost enough balance and grip for Asuma to turn the tables and roll him off before switching places. Now on-top, Asuma placed his hand over the man’s mask rather than his throat, and began scorching the man’s head with intense infra-red radiation. As the mask began to melt onto the man’s skin, he began letting out an inhuman wail of agony and began writhing around frantically.

“Son-of-a!” roared a voice from behind. Asuma’s hearing had returned just enough to catch the remark, and he managed to turn around just in time to blind the opponent with a blast of light from his hand before he took a bullet to the back. Instead the other masked figure’s shots blew up a cone of dirt to Asuma’s flank. Not willing to let the shooter get in another shot, Asuma let off another brighter flash before desperately darting off further into the little maze of market stools.