Foolish Errant

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

@Rodiak- The man attempting to kill Salena will likely be disposed of in my next post, but I wager that giving the cambion the choice of accepting the knight's aid would help with introductions

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

Helbronn

Addressed: @Rodiak

On a verdant road...

Approaching

For the Lady.

He followed the Call. The Call that was heard by none but him. He knew not where the Call led, he knew not what the Call demanded, but he was knight, and follow the Call he did. Perhaps eventually it would lead him to the Lady, but thus far it only ever led him towards Purpose. What was the difference? He could assume, but he could not tell. So long as it served, he would comply.

The knight's iron-gaze fell upon a battered cambion and a bloodied man.

Slowly, deliberately, Helbronn marched towards the debacle. Paradoxically, he appeared to emit no sound, not a single clink of metal or step, not even a single twig or leaf breaking underneath his pace. To some it might have appeared as if he was simply striding without effort, a bizarre sight unbefitting such a massive frame, but in truth each and every one of his steps was precise and efficient, allowing no waste of energy or space as he walked in eerie silence.

The battered cambion limped across the forest-floor, feet clumsied by blood-loss and fright, the bloodied man menaced upon her, sword in hand, self-satisfied grin upon his features.

The scratched-up bandit advanced, barking another threat, readying to strike down the cowering cambion.

With a resounding CRACK Helbronn's final step impacted with force upon the forest-floor, the wood underneath his boot giving a resounding tearing-sound as he came to a halt directly behind the man. Turning around in surprise, the bloodied bandit gave a shocked wince as he suddenly noticed the armored giant that for all he knew just appeared out of thin air a few paces from him. Staring up at the towering knight, the man froze in uncertain fright.

Returning the man's confused gaze with baleful iron-sight, the knight only spoke with a dry snarl "Cease. Desist." before resuming his stride, forcing the man to step aside, lest he be stepped upon.

Leaving the stupefied man behind, the knight marched towards the wounded cambion. Coming to a halt before the horned humanoid, the helmeted gaze scanned the broken arrow-sticks poking out of her crimson-stained flesh and cloth. These would require surgery, followed by weeks if not months of constant reapplication of linen and honey.

"Damsel." he addressed the cambion, tilting his head as he scrutinized her "Maiden. Hail. I am I, Sir Helbronn, knight of the Lady." his harsh voice sucked all that could be deemed as welcoming from the greeting "Would you enlist me, accept my aid?"

It took the bloodied bandit behind the knight a few more seconds to catch himself, one hand tightly clutching his sword as he bellowed over "You- you'd side with a tripple-fucked horned hell-whore who'll backstab you the first chance she gets?!" the hesitation slowly left his voice, replaced by anger originating from a hunter that was about to have his prey snatched from him.

"Yes." came the simple answer from the knight, helmeted gaze remaining affixed upon the cambion, not deigning to waste another glance upon the bandit.

Momentarily taken aback by the apparent innoculousnness of the answer, the man ground his teeth "That horned bitch is a murderer! She killed my mates! And now that I have her cornered, about to get some justice, you get in my way!"

Helbronn spoke "I know, one that advances upon another locked in fright with sadism in sight rarely does so with any good right. You have a sword, she does not. You have most of your blood, she does not. It is not the responsibility of knights errant to discover whether the oppressed whom they encounter are reduced to these circumstances and suffer this distress for their vices, or for their virtues." his voice held no malice, and even its usual dryness was diminished, replaced with conviction "The knight's sole responsibility is to succour them as people in need, having eyes only for their sufferings, not for their misdeeds."

The man was seething now, sword twitching in his hand with building rage overriding whatever instincts might have told him to flee from the knight, the armored giant that resolutely kept his back to him, not even bothering to address the bandit with his sight. Glowering in silence, the idea that with the cambion obviousely incapable of throwing her remaining lot into a fight, all he really would have to overcome was the arrogant errant with his back to him was forming in his anger-hazed mind.

Slowly, with silence practiced by years of robberies, the armed man advanced upon the duo, intent on finishing the job he set out to do.

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

@Rodiak- Do you require the man pursuing Salena to remain intact? Do you mind if Helbronn renders him less than intact?

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

<Snipped quote by Foolish Errant>

I was thinking of writing my introduction as my character is running away from some humans that are trying to hunt her down. Maybe your Helbronn can appear and help her?

I won't be able to write it down right now, but I'll have a post up in a few hours.

@Rodiak

That would work, looking forward to it

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

Could someone else's character perhaps seek to purchase Padoof? Maybe as a pack animal, or even for riding.

@Dusty

This would be a good way for anyone to write their character's introduction with. If any of the present players struggle to think of a good beginning for their chosen persona, I'd implore them to take this opportunity.

If no one steps up to the task, I can, though I would prefer for Helbronn to appear for a more dramatic occasion.

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

Helbronn

It was imperative for each knight to have a lady; a knight without lady was akin to a body without soul. To whom would he dedicate his conquests? What visions would sustain him when he sallied forth to do battle with evil and giants?

Thus to every knight his lady, that he alone might name. To each a secret hiding place where he could find his haunting face to light his secret flame.

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

In a verdant village

For the Lady.

The foe was ascertained, steel-gaze rigidly affixed on the wooden skin, frame silent and still. An iron claw opened, sharp fingers flexing to emit a series of clicks, before the entire gargantuan body was forced into rapid motion, charging as thunderous steps rocked the street and elicited gasps from the puzzled passersby.

A little girl looking up at the willow began to doubt her request.

Steel talons ripped into the bark with dull crunch, the tree's crown shaking wildly as the behemoth tore his way upwards, armored hands forcing hold when none could be found, a shower of leaves and wooden splinters sent flying as the knight vanished in the labyrinth of twigs, a series of breaking bark betraying his unwavering advance. With another final crunch the figure emerged near the top, the armored form crouched on a thin branch that one would have thought to be unable to hold the steel-clad giant's weight.

A mewling intoned, pathetic and frightened, followed by a futile hiss.

The silent gaze lowered itself, coming to rest upon the small feline creature. Slowly, deliberately, the knight climbed and clawed his way across the branch, coming to a halt just before the small beast, which now seemed to contemplate if risking the fall might be safer. Slowly the armored frame crouched further down, claws ripping into the lumber, poised like a predator ready to pounce, neck stretching as the helmeted visage inspected the furry creature on an even level.

The cat hissed, recoiling even further, inching ever closer to the edge.

A claw was ripped from the wood and sped forth, iron hold clasping firmly around the feline beast's neck, ignoring the attempts of futile resistance. Without emitting another sound, the knight released his grip from the branch, momentarily falling freely before impacting on the earth with the free claw ripping into the muddy ground to absorb the landing.

Standing up, Helbronn quietly strode over to the girl, handing over the kitten, alive and intact. The child could only clutch her pet tightly to her chest as she stared up at the armored giant with hesitant wonder on her face, bits and pieces of bark and leaves still clinging to the knight's plates.

"It is done, milady." A harsh voice emanated from the helmet, gaining a metallic grating through the faceplate "Farewell." Giving a bow, the knight struck a perfect ninety degree turn, walking off with an even gait.

Fortunate, that...

Having barely entered this township under the watchful gaze of suspicious guards, with vocal remindings that any attempts at disturbing the good folk would be met with swift justice, already Helbronn encountered a needy soul, staring up at one of the trees specifcially grown for their aesthetics to enrich the street. The owners of these feline creatures that appeared to spontaneousely lose their capability for calculating proper heights seemed to be the sort that derived pleasure from pain...

The knight halted. Tilting his helmeted head, he displayed a motion similar to one trying to listen to the wind, as if hearing something from a far distance. Abruptly his gaze set itself on an inn slightly further off, before his torso aligned itself with the direction. Taking off towards the source, the knight pursued a call no one else could hear.

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

@Duck - Yay! Looking forward to the IC!

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

Character Application

Name/s: Sir Helbronn, knight of the Lady

Race: Hard to define; sort of 'human', but really a walking fairytale figure, an 'amalgam'

Appearance:

An armored giant standing at seven feet, perpetually covered by steel-plates and speaking with a naturally cold, ugly voice regardless of subject-matter, coupled with a way of moving close to being doll-like for one moment, before rapidly switching to a strange, primal fluidity belying his sheer bulk, all combining to appear eerie at best, downright creepy at worst.

Not a single flash of clothing let alone flesh other than metal would be visible even from up close, the material apparently simple steel. No ornament, no decoration, no marks of any known smiths. A careful eye might have noticed a number of spots betraying the wear and tear of the elements, as well as traces where weapons had clearly penetrated, all covered up with careful maintenance and repair. Though conventional and featureless, the way the individual plates were each adjusted perfectly to the knight's form like a second skin did not allow for a derogatory term like 'simple' to fit, but rather matched the definition of efficient.

Characteristics: A bizarre being embodying several unfitting extremes. Voice cold and harsh, actions precise and calculated, while preaching of idealism and "goodness" that is far beyond what any sane being could realistically hope to achieve.

All in all, his mentality can appear as detached at best, delusional at worst, while also giving sight to a secondary, far darker set of beliefs that comes frighteningly close to outright nihilism, referring to himself as a tool for use, a ploy for the "tale" to continue and reach its ultimate conclusion, making it possible to assume that all his actions are constrained by a strange understanding of the "common" laws of fairytales. The one who he refers to as the "Lady" would be the primary focal point of his striving, believing her to be the only one capable of granting him his deepest desire.

Despite his usual conduct, he is not exempt from the simple emotion called "boredom", him citing it as the primary reason for why he took up playing the fiddle and tried himself at dancing, a measure to kill time while on the endless march.

Imagine

Imagine you wander. You wander wide, you wander long, you never cease wandering.

You search, you always search, far and away. The ideal compels, the ideal demands.

Loneliness is on your mind, causing you to approach others.

You ask "Where?"

They shrug, point a way, and in thanks you fulfill their demands with a whole heart. They are happy to have you away.

You keep wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Simply setting one foot after another is insufficient. You take up a hobby, one that can be conducted while keeping up the march. You like the melody. It lightens your heart.

You wander with bliss in your heart. Your steps momentarily reminding of those of a dancer as you leave your tracks in the mud and snow, the passing of years flowing by with dim notice.

But then something goes wrong. Something goes horribly horribly wrong.

For the first time, a glimpse of luminosity. You look around yourself and you see only misery, a world upfilled with it and your own limited capacity to grasp the sheer amount of consequences, a surge of emotion resulting in enhanced perception of your surroundings.

The nasally tone of someone's voice as they whine for the sake of whining.

The hypocrisy of people hating themselves and doing absolutely nothing to change it.

Everything was so much more vivid than it once was. So with enhanced perceptions came realization: The realization of a simple universal constant.

Every single person in the world deserves death for some reason. The only variable was 'Over what?'

You resume wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Then, perhaps, you find something new. Something full of extremes, overwhelming sadness, polarizing joy, reverberating lust.

Wisdom is a terrible responsibility. Looking at this newness creates a demand, another realisation of the limitation. Wisdom demands for the only possible conclusion in realisation of the own limited state:

Terror. Fear.

Background: Several years ago he simply seemed to appear, devoid of fame and tales. The self-proclaimed knight would approach random travellers, villages, cities, anyone that appeared in need of aid and - no matter the triviality of the task, ranging from saving kittens on trees to launching attacks upon bands of brigands - the knight would serve, in return only asking if any of those he aided had seen his Lady.

When asked for a description of the one he sought, the knight would always be quick to praise his Lady's wit, beauty and compassion, but never would he actually give any sort of details. As a result, his inquiries were only ever met with puzzled shaking of heads, prompting his ever-unchanging continuation of the search for his Lady.

Truthfully enough, the Lady does not exist. The knight chases after an empty dream, a neverending task that will never find fulfillment, the delusion of success serving as a sole attempt at retaining his sanity. Perhaps he is aware of the impossibility of his task, or perhaps not.

Race Application

Name/s: Walking Fairytale Figure, 'Amalgam'



Appearance/Backstory: Not really a race perse, but rather a very broad assortment of phenomena occurring in a world so upfilled with magic, and increasing in frequency the farther one goes into the Cursed Forest. They are not natural, but not quite artificial either, ranging from being maddened and corrupted mixtures of beasts from legend fueled by stray thoughts and dreams of sentient beings all over the world to the souls of ancient things that faded from existence, but suddenly found themselves reinvigorated by strands of chaotic magic running wild in the darkest depths of the forest.

Fairytale Figures springing to apparent life are only one of the many subsets of these chaotic and nonsensical occurrences. To be clear, they aren't quite original beings that jumped out of a tale, but rather bases that had the messages, emotions and thoughts of a number of stories thrust upon them, thus earning them another name, 'amalgam'. Their origin-stories usually follow certain themes, such as hope, despair, apathy and bravery, whatever emotion and messages the tales are meant to convey. Most of these things are mixtures of many legends spanning the many different races, mortal souls robbed of identity, feeding off the many different sentient fantasies found in dreams in a mindless attempt to attain sanity, to fill the gaping void of their own existence.

Characteristics: Theirs is a horrid reputation, with the maddened sort often claiming many lives before they are put down, while the saner kind, often endowed with inhuman attributes, seek to shape reality more towards their fairytale-like perception of the world, usually ending with causing great devastation to cities and even cultures. The saner sort can be hard to spot, their mentality often betraying them only when it is too late.

Few become old after springing into existence, most die of infection and sickness following self-injury, being unused to having to struggle with the laws of physics. Common amongst them are sanity-defying capabilities, such as strength so overwhelming that it tears their own muscles apart, speed so blinding that it rips their sinews in full run, for often they are the kind that was made to battle dragons, keep armies at bay or even charm the coldest sort.

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

Character Application

Name/s: Sir Helbronn, knight of the Lady

Race: Hard to define; sort of 'human', but really a walking fairytale figure, an 'amalgam'

Appearance:

An armored giant standing at seven feet, perpetually covered by steel-plates and speaking with a naturally cold, ugly voice regardless of subject-matter, coupled with a way of moving close to being doll-like for one moment, before rapidly switching to a strange, primal fluidity belying his sheer bulk, all combining to appear eerie at best, downright creepy at worst.

Not a single flash of clothing let alone flesh other than metal would be visible even from up close, the material apparently simple steel. No ornament, no decoration, no marks of any known smiths. A careful eye might have noticed a number of spots betraying the wear and tear of the elements, as well as traces where weapons had clearly penetrated, all covered up with careful maintenance and repair. Though conventional and featureless, the way the individual plates were each adjusted perfectly to the knight's form like a second skin did not allow for a derogatory term like 'simple' to fit, but rather matched the definition of efficient.

Characteristics: A bizarre being embodying several unfitting extremes. Voice cold and harsh, actions precise and calculated, while preaching of idealism and "goodness" that is far beyond what any sane being could realistically hope to achieve.

All in all, his mentality can appear as detached at best, delusional at worst, while also giving sight to a secondary, far darker set of beliefs that comes frighteningly close to outright nihilism, referring to himself as a tool for use, a ploy for the "tale" to continue and reach its ultimate conclusion, making it possible to assume that all his actions are constrained by a strange understanding of the "common" laws of fairytales. The one who he refers to as the "Lady" would be the primary focal point of his striving, believing her to be the only one capable of granting him his deepest desire.

Despite his usual conduct, he is not exempt from the simple emotion called "boredom", him citing it as the primary reason for why he took up playing the fiddle and tried himself at dancing, a measure to kill time while on the endless march.

Imagine

Imagine you wander. You wander wide, you wander long, you never cease wandering.

You search, you always search, far and away. The ideal compels, the ideal demands.

Loneliness is on your mind, causing you to approach others.

You ask "Where?"

They shrug, point a way, and in thanks you fulfill their demands with a whole heart. They are happy to have you away.

You keep wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Simply setting one foot after another is insufficient. You take up a hobby, one that can be conducted while keeping up the march. You like the melody. It lightens your heart.

You wander with bliss in your heart. Your steps momentarily reminding of those of a dancer as you leave your tracks in the mud and snow, the passing of years flowing by with dim notice.

But then something goes wrong. Something goes horribly horribly wrong.

For the first time, a glimpse of luminosity. You look around yourself and you see only misery, a world upfilled with it and your own limited capacity to grasp the sheer amount of consequences, a surge of emotion resulting in enhanced perception of your surroundings.

The nasally tone of someone's voice as they whine for the sake of whining.

The hypocrisy of people hating themselves and doing absolutely nothing to change it.

Everything was so much more vivid than it once was. So with enhanced perceptions came realization: The realization of a simple universal constant.

Every single person in the world deserves death for some reason. The only variable was 'Over what?'

You resume wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Then, perhaps, you find something new. Something full of extremes, overwhelming sadness, polarizing joy, reverberating lust.

Wisdom is a terrible responsibility. Looking at this newness creates a demand, another realisation of the limitation. Wisdom demands for the only possible conclusion in realisation of the own limited state:

Terror. Fear.

Background: Several years ago he simply seemed to appear, devoid of fame and tales. The self-proclaimed knight would approach random travellers, villages, cities, anyone that appeared in need of aid and - no matter the triviality of the task, ranging from saving kittens on trees to launching attacks upon bands of brigands - the knight would serve, in return only asking if any of those he aided had seen his Lady.

When asked for a description of the one he sought, the knight would always be quick to praise his Lady's wit, beauty and compassion, but never would he actually give any sort of details. As a result, his inquiries were only ever met with puzzled shaking of heads, prompting his ever-unchanging continuation of the search for his Lady.

Truthfully enough, the Lady does not exist. The knight chases after an empty dream, a neverending task that will never find fulfillment, the delusion of success serving as a sole attempt at retaining his sanity. Perhaps he is aware of the impossibility of his task, or perhaps not.

Race Application

Name/s: Walking Fairytale Figure, 'Amalgam'

Appearance/Backstory: Not really a race perse, but rather a very broad assortment of phenomena occurring in a world so upfilled with magic, and increasing in frequency the farther one goes into the Cursed Forest. They are not natural, but not quite artificial either, ranging from being maddened and corrupted mixtures of beasts from legend fueled by stray thoughts and dreams of sentient beings all over the world to the souls of ancient things that faded from existence, but suddenly found themselves reinvigorated by strands of chaotic magic running wild in the darkest depths of the forest.

Fairytale Figures springing to apparent life are only one of the many subsets of these chaotic and nonsensical occurrences. To be clear, they aren't quite original beings that jumped out of a tale, but rather bases that had the messages, emotions and thoughts of a number of stories thrust upon them, thus earning them another name, 'amalgam'. Their origin-stories usually follow certain themes, such as hope, despair, apathy and bravery, whatever emotion and messages the tales are meant to convey. Most of these things are mixtures of many legends spanning the many different races, mortal souls robbed of identity, feeding off the many different sentient fantasies found in dreams in a mindless attempt to attain sanity, to fill the gaping void of their own existence.

Characteristics: Theirs is a horrid reputation, with the maddened sort often claiming many lives before they are put down, while the saner kind, often endowed with inhuman attributes, seek to shape reality more towards their fairytale-like perception of the world, usually ending with causing great devastation to cities and even cultures. The saner sort can be hard to spot, their mentality often betraying them only when it is too late.

Few become old after springing into existence, most die of infection and sickness following self-injury, being unused to having to struggle with the laws of physics. Common amongst them are sanity-defying capabilities, such as strength so overwhelming that it tears their own muscles apart, speed so blinding that it rips their sinews in full run, for often they are the kind that was made to battle dragons, keep armies at bay or even charm the coldest sort.

Lost in the Woods (Always Open)

I am new to this site, as such I would like to clarify: How goes the process of application? Do we just PM you our character sheet, or do we post it here for checking?