Free Faller

The Spirits Within II

I'm working on a my character now and am about... halfway through. It should be up pretty soon. Those spirits take a lot more thought than I initially anticipated, lmao. I'll throw it up here once I'm done.

The Spirits Within II

Looks like you've got more than the six you were looking for, but I'll still throw my hat into the ring just in case.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

I posted too, but (at least it feels that way to me, lmao)

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Laila’s eyes swept over the garden as the Emperor started to gather their party and prepare to begin the mission. A seemingly motley group, they were. As a sell-sword she was probably the least conspicuous person of the group, even more so than the young cook with sharp eyes if only because her kind were expected at this sort of venture. That was just fine for her. Doing her job was always easiest when people wrote her off and then ignored her. And who knew, perhaps the diversity would work to their advantage as they worked to figure out the mysteries of the plague. Getting their without killing each other first, however, might prove a bit difficult. They hadn’t even done anything yet and already the young knights and man cocooned in foreign armor had their hackles raised like back alley dogs. She sighed and shook her head slightly, moving to where a line of holsters held the leads to several fine mounts. If there was one thing Laila knew, it was horses. She had been raised on a horse farm, and then served many years as a scout practically living off the back of one. None of those she had previously, however, were of as fine a quality as those brought from the Emperor’s stables. She headed straight for a blue roan towards the back of the line. The gelding was a fine looking courser. A more sleekly built horse than the descriers that the Emperor and many of his knights preferred to ride, but perfect for the Ghost who liked to approach problems from the side. They were bred for use by scouts and messengers but were also great for skirmishes too. After offering her hand to the horse for a good sniff, Laila gave him a firm pat on the neck and ran her hands along his body, down his legs, and making sure his shoes were in good order. She doubted there would be any deficiencies with mounts from the Emperor’s own stables, but her training since childhood compelled her to check every inch of the horse over. Satisfied, she unslung her bag so she could distribute it across the horse and ready herself for travel. Her crossbow was unlashed and set gently on the ground next to her, and she strapped a small harness on over her leather armor. Made for mounted crossbowmen, the small hook on the front allowed her to re-cock her small crossbow while riding. It didn’t mean that she could reload and fire quickly, just made it possible for her to use multiple times. That weapon she slung on her back and tied the quiver down to the saddle so that it’d be in front of her left knee. Her bag she tied down behind her own seat, not willing to take some of the things hidden within the confines of it out in order place them in the provided saddle bags. Namely her Nightfighter garb and a variety of poisons. Nothing would make her less happy than having to explain her possession of those things away. With no way to ready herself more, Laila hopped into the saddle with one fluid motion to await their departure, nodding her thanks to the holster who had brought out the horse. She guided her new mount away from the line of steeds with just a little pressure from her knees, happy at the gelding’s responsiveness to her slight commands. A fine horse. She gave him a rough scratch at the base of his mane to let him know. “You know,” she said turning her attention to the recklessly open young woman and the poor boy she decided to drag along behind her. The girl she knew to be a performer from a famous troupe, having seen the show a few times herself during her travels. And the boy, well, he smelled of cooking meat and was covered in grease. On top of that he had a body that looked used to lifting heavy sacks of grain and flour, all of which led Laila to believe he had worked in a kitchen. “You may want to ask for a proper weapon while you have the chance. It’ll be good to have one and even if you don’t know how to use it, it’s not so difficult to be taught the basics. Unless, that is, you plan to kill brigands with handstands and camp stew?” She smiled crookedly, her voice light in good-natured, teasing manner. Still, her suggestion had a note of seriousness to it.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Intro's up. I know, I know... I'm a slacker.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

“Should I fear the shadows?” Laila’s eyes flicked from the watery ale she had been staring into to watch a man in his mid-fifties plop down in the seat across from her, interrupting her internal musings as she sat tucked away in her little corner table. By her smile, however, it was clear that it was a welcome distraction and by the glass of wine she pushed at him it seemed to be an expected one too. “There are Ghosts in the shadows,” she replied, reciting their countersign quietly enough so as to not let her voice carry over to the nearest table, “and let the tyrants tremble in their beds, for the shadows are ever watchful.” “Indeed,” he spymaster said and took an experimental drink of the offered wine. If her own watered down swill was any indication, Laila suspected that the wine would fare no better; at his slight wince she knew she was right. He sighed and pushed it aside, crossing his arms and looking his pupil over. “You’ll be going as an army veteran turned merc, then?” “You know what they say, Hafiden, the best lies are truths with a couple omissions thrown in.” She wore earthen colored breeches and a tunic overlaid with well maintained, if not worn, leather armor, a fraying cloak of the imperial scouts, soft soled boots, and a slim sword and dagger hung off her belt. The clothes were loose enough to allow her to properly hide a multitude of throwing daggers too, and a bit of dirt on her face and oil raked through her mousy hair gave her the compelling look of a mercenary come fresh from the road to the capital city from a long trip. It wasn’t like she could run across the rooftops dressed in the shadowy garb of a Nightfighter, cape billowing out behind her in broad daylight and knives glittering dangerously in hand. Hardly inconspicuous, that’d be, especially when Ghosts weren't supposed to exist. “Aye,” he nodded, having been the one to teach her that lesson. He procured a few sealed letters from inside his shirt and held them out to her and she immediately tucked them away. “You can use those to contact local Ghost circles when you come across the larger towns. It will be useful to have a few extra sets of trained eyes to keep watch in the highly populated areas. The one in the back is for the circle closest to the… scene of the incident. They’ll know more than anyone the current situation once you get there. Use them.” Laila grunted her assent and stood from the table, her leader a moment behind her in the movement, and the two clasped arms in farewell like the mercenaries they were pretending to be. “I’ll send back word when I can.” She slung the bag that had been sitting at her feet, a crossbow and quarrel of bolts lashed to opposite sides of it, over one shoulder and turned to make for the door. “Lass,” Hafiden called and she threw him a half glance over her back, “Take care of him.” The corner of her mouth twitched up into a crooked grin and she pushed her way out of the crowded tavern and into the more heavily crowded streets. A mere ten minute walk at a brisk pace would bring her to the foot of the Empire’s seat of power and she would start on her next mission with vigor. She hadn’t asked Hafiden if the Emperor would be aware that one of his Ghosts would be present in the ranks of his party, but she suspected that their liege would at least not be surprised at the prospect. Hell, he might have even been told by one of her betters. Either way it was of little concern to her, she supposed for although her orders were bordering on the impossible, they were of simple enough wording: Protect the Emperor, figure out what in the hell this monstrous plague was, and stop it. Simple. When the whitewashed gates of the imperial palace finally stood before her, Laila couldn’t help but let her eyes go wide to take in the splendor of it. The farmer’s daughter in her was awed by the size and architecture of it, and the Ghost daunted by its convoluted system of hallways and passages and the hidden dangers she was sure lurked behind every tastefully decorated corner. But still she settled both her glee and dread with a roll of her shoulders as she walked through the gate’s threshold and into the stately gardens, adopting a state of carefully bored observation instead. Already people had gathered before and near the royal family. To nobles from some of the oldest bloodlines of the empire to a boy who looked of the streets, the Emperor’s call had attracted all kinds. Keen eyes the color of thunderclouds rolled over each and every person present. Being well learned in the peoples of the Empire as a Ghost would be expected, Laila recognized each one of the three gathered nobles immediately, as well as recognizing the Emperor’s ever present Knight Commander and a scholar of the academy’s stock. The young, weaponless lad was somewhat of an unexpected surprise as was the man cocooned in armor the Laila was positive didn’t originate from Caradia. The last she did not trust immediately. There was something… off… about him, something more than the painstaking obviousness of his appearance. She couldn’t quite place it, however, and she didn’t like that one bit. She’d keep an extra eye on him, Laila decided, and finally let her gaze slide away from him. There were more important things than his personal puzzle at the moment, unless he should prove involved in the strange happenings of late somehow. She’d have plenty of time to mull over curiosities later, and she supposed that now was the time to introduce herself. Maintaining a proper distance and awareness of keeping hands away from even her hidden arsenal of weaponry, lest the Emperor’s overzealous guardian think Laila would be better off with a sword sticking though her chest, the woman approached the royal family with not the silent glide of the spy she was, but the confident step of the soldier she appeared to be. The women bent low at the waist. “Your Royal Majesties, I am at your service.”

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Holy explosion of magical theory, Batman! That's why I like to stick to the ol' "jab a sharp pointy thing at peoples' important bits until they stop moving" tactic, lol. But anywho, I added the history to my character so hopefully she's up to snuff.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Laila

Name: Laila Arcion Age: 27 Gender: Female Personality: Quick-witted, clever, and extremely observant of the world and people around her, Laila is well suited to her profession. Give her a few scraps of information and a second or two, even under the rigor of combat, and she can more often than not devise a clever strategy. Give her a few pieces to a complex puzzle and some time to roll it around in her brain, and she can give you the big picture. Laila works in the darkness to protect those that would live in the light, oft times sacrificing her own morality to spare the innocence or lesson the suffering of those she has never even met. She is keenly aware of every death she has directly or inadvertently caused, and sincerely hopes that the good she has done outweighs the bad. She tries to remind herself that she is working for the greater good, especially when she wakes up drenched in cold sweat from the throes of one of her commonly occurring nightmares. One might think that because of her internal struggle with her conscious that Laila would be less than personable, however this is not the case. Her time in the darkness makes the light and goodness of the world all the more precious to her; it’s what keeps her fighting. She tries to maintain a pleasant, humorous air about her, if not at times being a bit of a smart-ass. Aside from that, she would never want to burden someone else with her problems anyway. Role/Title: Nightfighter of the Emperor’s Ghosts Throughout the entire expanse of the Caradia Empire there exists an information network. Made of people from the lowliest of servants to the most noble of houses, this vast and complicated multi-layered web of informants, spies, and assassins work in tandem to forward the goals of the Emperor and Empress and uproot those that would try to hide their illegal or even treasonous acts and ambitions from their sovereigns. These men and women are called Ghosts and like their namesakes, their very existence is a thing of rumor to the general populous. Indeed, even many of the lower informants are unaware of who they really provide information. A complicated ranking system which determines how much of the network one is privy to allows for minimal asset exposure by captured or turned operatives. The most common rank of those that can truly be called Ghosts on average know only four of five others, all of whom operate within the same city or region, and their main purpose is to keep tabs persons of interest and gather information. But Laila is a Nightfighter. A specialized Ghost trained to not only gather intelligence in more hostile or dangerous situations, but to be able neutralize any threats or targets deemed necessary. History: Laila was born to a horse rancher and his wife, on a modest plot of land in the outskirts of a small village; the eldest child of their four daughters. She grew up on the ideals that a strong work ethic and a bit of good weather were all that were necessary to live a happy life. Doing chores and running amok with the pack of village kids occupied most of her childhood, causing all sorts of shenanigans. Always an inquisitive and adventurous girl, the simplistic life that lay before her of marrying a boy from across the tiny village and becoming a farmer’s wife never appealed to her. Watching the odd patrol of the Empire’s soldiers pass through her town as a child probably didn’t help her to bring her head out of the clouds. At the age of fifteen Laila decided that she needed more, and ran away from home with a small bag and her spunky gelding. Her destination? The closest military outpost she knew of, about a week ride to the west of her village along a well-worn road. It was uneventful for a first adventure on her own, though she got little rest from jumping at every rustle of leaves in the night and instead of the welcome she expected to receive as someone coming to volunteer to serve in the Imperial Forces, she got laughed at. At fifteen she was a coltish little waif of a thing, all limbs and length and awkwardness and the commander of the post tried to convince her to go back home before she got herself hurt. But a mulish set to her jaw and consistent badgering for an entire day finally got the officer to submit to her wishes. She began her official training as a soldier a week later and eventually ended up being sent to supplement a small expeditionary force that patrolled the northern quadrant of their outpost’s area of operation. Laila served exceptionally well for the five years she spent as part of that troop, changing from a scraggly teenager to a tall, lithe warrior. Eventually her keen eyes and sound decision making allowed her to become the sergeant in charge of the group’s small contingent of scouts. She would never know exactly how it was that the Ghosts learned of her, let alone decided that she might be someone worth recruiting, but she remembered the exact moment her life changed drastically for the second time. A middle aged man, common in both look and speech, approached her outpost one sunny day towards the end of summer. With him he carried a sealed letter from her commander’s commander, ordering the assistance of Laila’s troop in the apprehension of a group of brigands that had been plaguing the one of the main trading routes for some time, though not in the region that her troop was responsible for patrolling. Hafiden was his name, and at the time he claimed to be a Lieutenant of the Army, though now she knows that was just a cover story. In reality he was a Ghost spymaster, come to her little Podunk fort in hopes of testing and recruiting Laila herself. He must have liked something he had seen throughout the following months in which they worked together, for at the end of the tour he told Laila that she had makings of not only a Ghost, but as one of their elite Nightfighters as well. It took her a year of intense training to earn the title of Nightfighter. What Hafiden could not teach her himself, he brought in other Ghosts who could. The first order of business was to teach Laila to read, a vital skill for a spy. She was taught the art of sneaking until she could tap the shoulder of the patrolling guards of their training facility without being detected. She learned to fight with and throw daggers, the main weapon of any Nightfighter’s arsenal. Hand-to-hand combat helped her develop a style that allowed the woman to use her speed and leverage to overcome enemies commonly stronger than herself. Locking picking, climbing (and falling, for that matter), speaking different accents, disguises, and many other small things that some may take for granted as important also made it into her training. After becoming a full-fledged Nightfighter, Laila remained a member of her mentor Hafiden’s circle of Ghosts, and took her orders directly from him. Missions often sent her to the corners of the empire and back again, doing anything from finding evidence of a noble’s corruption so that they could be brought to justice, to rooting out and assassinating the leader of a group of slave traders, or even providing unseen protection to an Caradian ambassador in one of their neighboring countries. She’s had more near deaths than she can remember in her years as a Ghost, and caused too many deaths that she can’t forget. But like Hafiden is always telling her, there is little rest for the wicked, and less for the Ghosts that haunt them in the shadows. Anything Extra: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=He4YV1uqwfs

Something Wicked This Way Comes

I see ya'll are still looking for a few people and have a need for a sneaky-sneakerton type. I've decided to come back from a bit of a break from RPing, and if you'll have me, I have an idea which I hope breaks away from the stereotypical "emotionless stone wall of an anti-social killer" rogue/assassin class enough to make a suitably interesting character to work with. I fully admit to having creeped all up on the thread earlier today, so I've gotten most of a CS typed up (aside from the history) already. As it's super late and I'm falling asleep at my keyboard as it is, I'll throw up what I have done in the character tab thingy now and finish it tomorrow for approval.

New Apocalyptica

Holy Christ biscuits, I actually got onto the site. Have you guys been getting a bunch of page errors lately? Anyway, I'm on my phone and as soon as I get home I'll throw the post I having sitting on my computer up as long as the site doesn't take a giant dump again.