Maybe the characters we play here play an integral part in the next game?
And, I don't mind either way.
Jivusa Member
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Rowan looked around as he walked the streets early in the morning, not much people out except for him and a couple of other early bloomers. Rowan looked to the sky, sighing. The sun hasn't even woke up yet, it seemed. On Leor, this was the prime time to do things. It wasn't too cold or too hot. It's a moderate temperature out on the sands of Leor. Prime time to do the hunting and the gathering. Leorans didn't really have access to all of the fancy, high-tech gadgetry that other planets had. Leorans didn't need it. A Leoran's body is adapted to extreme conditions, to survive the climate of Leor and the inhabitants that shared the sands of the deserts of Leor. And, a Leoran was almost born with natural senses to find water and food. Bred hunters. Rowan was no exception to this. Leorans had what it took to survive, and did what was necessary. It wasn't uncommon for a Leoran tribe to sacrifice their own, and dine on their brothers and sisters. Thankfully, Rowan didn't eat any of his brothers or sisters. It never did come to that for him. The same cannot be said for others in the tribe of nomadic people.
Even though Leor was such a harsh, unforgiving, primal place, he missed it dearly, sometimes. He missed the ability to run across the dunes in light cloth clothes, spear in one hand, knife on your waist, bow and quiver on your back, hunting your dinner. It was somewhat intriguing to think about it. The circle of life, how everything lives off of everything, how the land is in a delicate harmony. It made Rowan wonder a lot. That led to him having a unique outlook on things amongst his kin. It was appreciated amongst his clan, gaining respect from the tribe leader. And that was respect not easily given. While his knowledge was appreciated by his tribe, his talents of hunting were appreciated by the group of assassins that offered him a job. And, he joined up.
In his train of thought, he had walked around the entire district, maybe three times. The sun had risen a little bit, and was hitting his skin. Rowan was now smiling at the sun, feeling a nice warmth. After, he would turn his body and walk a different direction. He made his way to a bar on the planet he was currently on: Hetachi.
He walked through the doorway of the building, seeing all of the friendly and unfriendly faces that came with it. He took a seat, and asked for a glass of water. He didn't drink much outside of water and the juices of fruits and vegetables. Rowan didn't drink alcohol; in the long run, it dehydrates you. And hydration was one of Rowan's top natural priorities. Speaking of drinks, there was this one juice that was only drank on celebratory occasions, and even then, only just a sip or two. It was made from a special kind of fruit that made its home in the sands, and was extremely rare. And its juice was the most delicious thing to ever come within distance of your palate. Rowan had partaken of it only once, when a new tribe leader was elected. Ever since, he had loved it. Sadly, it was not served here. Or anywhere, for that matter.
Rowan would stay in the bar for a few hours, having asked the bartender to hang up an advertisement. He was searching for someone to help him with a bounty hunting contract. Primarily, another bounty hunter. A legal bounty hunter. One or two people caught his eye in the establishment, but they didn't come across as really friendly. They were more immoral murderers that had yet to be caught. He didn't know that for sure, but Leorans were always observing things. Rowan was definitely not an exception. He was a prime example. His observation turned to a woman that had just walked into the bar, and sat right next to him at the bar stand. He looked over to her, and observed her. With his natural perception, he saw that she was not lightly armed, having maybe more than a few blades on her, with the obvious larger blade at her feet. Rowan guessed she was a bounty hunter. He would set one of the advertisements on the table in front of him and looked another way, hoping she would take notice.
Even though Leor was such a harsh, unforgiving, primal place, he missed it dearly, sometimes. He missed the ability to run across the dunes in light cloth clothes, spear in one hand, knife on your waist, bow and quiver on your back, hunting your dinner. It was somewhat intriguing to think about it. The circle of life, how everything lives off of everything, how the land is in a delicate harmony. It made Rowan wonder a lot. That led to him having a unique outlook on things amongst his kin. It was appreciated amongst his clan, gaining respect from the tribe leader. And that was respect not easily given. While his knowledge was appreciated by his tribe, his talents of hunting were appreciated by the group of assassins that offered him a job. And, he joined up.
In his train of thought, he had walked around the entire district, maybe three times. The sun had risen a little bit, and was hitting his skin. Rowan was now smiling at the sun, feeling a nice warmth. After, he would turn his body and walk a different direction. He made his way to a bar on the planet he was currently on: Hetachi.
He walked through the doorway of the building, seeing all of the friendly and unfriendly faces that came with it. He took a seat, and asked for a glass of water. He didn't drink much outside of water and the juices of fruits and vegetables. Rowan didn't drink alcohol; in the long run, it dehydrates you. And hydration was one of Rowan's top natural priorities. Speaking of drinks, there was this one juice that was only drank on celebratory occasions, and even then, only just a sip or two. It was made from a special kind of fruit that made its home in the sands, and was extremely rare. And its juice was the most delicious thing to ever come within distance of your palate. Rowan had partaken of it only once, when a new tribe leader was elected. Ever since, he had loved it. Sadly, it was not served here. Or anywhere, for that matter.
Rowan would stay in the bar for a few hours, having asked the bartender to hang up an advertisement. He was searching for someone to help him with a bounty hunting contract. Primarily, another bounty hunter. A legal bounty hunter. One or two people caught his eye in the establishment, but they didn't come across as really friendly. They were more immoral murderers that had yet to be caught. He didn't know that for sure, but Leorans were always observing things. Rowan was definitely not an exception. He was a prime example. His observation turned to a woman that had just walked into the bar, and sat right next to him at the bar stand. He looked over to her, and observed her. With his natural perception, he saw that she was not lightly armed, having maybe more than a few blades on her, with the obvious larger blade at her feet. Rowan guessed she was a bounty hunter. He would set one of the advertisements on the table in front of him and looked another way, hoping she would take notice.
Age: 23
Appearance: Rowan stands at a height of 6 feet evenly, weighing just under 200 lbs. He has an athletic figure, built from life on his desert home planet. Tanned skin encompasses his body evenly, all across. His face is a mixture of chiseled and soft features, giving him a handsome frame. His jaw is even and a bit wide, with his chin rounded out at the end. Above the chin is a pair of lips that are drawn together and pursed, but with the top and bottom very even. Rowan's nose neither sinks in nor sticks out, sitting in the middle of that range with a natural shape. He has complete heterochromia iridum, giving him a pale blue left eye and a pale green right eye. These mismatched eyes sit evenly in there sockets, with smaller lids that are accustomed to the brightness of the intense planet he calls home. A full brow sits atop his eyes, being slightly curved. Long, ginger hair is kept in a low tail.
Occupation: Assassin-turned-bounty hunter, choosing to go a more legal route. Though, may take assassination contracts from time to time, out of habit.
Status: Single
Personality: Cool-headed and patient, with manners and a rare politeness to those who treat him with the same respect. Rowan thinks before acting, because you don't get a second chance most of the time.
Biography: Rowan was born to a nomadic clan on Leor, a desert planet. During the day, temperatures reach a scorching point. And during the night, temperature drop to bone-chilling. The harsh climate of Leor hardened Rowan's body from a young age, learning how to look and observe, sensing things that would normally go under the radar of other people. At the age of 16, he left home and found work with a small group of assassins, running with them for a few years. After taking a turn for the worse, the group split up and went their separate ways. Rowan then turned to bounty hunting, making a living doing legal work, but does assassinations on the side for special clients.
Marcos awoke to the sounds of cannon fire and yelling, coming from outside of the hull of the ship. He awoke with a start, but was restrained by wraps around his wrists and ankles, bound up to a bunk. He looked around, seeing everyone else was in a startle as well from the sudden noises of battle. Either the ship was attacking someone, or it was being attacked itself. Either way, cannonballs were flying. As roundshot flew across the water, the hull was hit, making a couple of large impact holes, and a lot of debris. One of the large iron projectiles barely missed Marcos, but had hit his bunk, as well as other enslaved people. It was a very brutal sight, watching others get mauled by roundshot, not being able to do anything.
As his bunk was hit, the posts fell and he fell through the thin boarding, hitting the floor of the room. Marcos was not able to get up, so he just lie there, still bound up. And then, the ship started to tip. It tipped over because cannonballs had caused waves to hit the boat, causing it to rock back and forth. Marcos simply tumbled around as the boat rocked, sliding across the floor. Unfortunately, he slid to the edge of the flooring, faced with a hole in the hull of the ship. And, he was slowly sliding down. Before he was able to fall, the binding around his ankles got caught on the wood that was still intact. Marcos, now suspended upside-down, watched as the hull of another ship came closer and closer. He then came up with a spark of brilliancy.
He swung and twisted his body around, trying to loosen the wrappings around his feet, while wedging a piece of wood between the wrapping around his wrists. The wrapping around his wrists were the first to go. So, with his newly freed hands, he reached up and started to undo the wrapping around his ankles. Before he could untie it, though, some cargo had made it free and was speeding towards Marcos. He leaned backwards and barely missed being hit by the heavy cargo, but his feet were uncaught from the wood. Marcos braced himself as he hit the water.
After quickly gaining his orientation again, he would start moving, swimming upwards, to the surface. And, when he breached the surface, he found he was faced by the hull of the opposing ship. Either climb on, or sink, he thought. He chose to climb on, grabbing the wood lining of the hull and climbing upwards, holding on for dear life. When there was nowhere else to grab, he simply held on, not wanting to go back into the water and risk drowning, or recapture. Marcos was prepared to face the crew of the new ship, deducing that it was not a slave ship, at least.
As his bunk was hit, the posts fell and he fell through the thin boarding, hitting the floor of the room. Marcos was not able to get up, so he just lie there, still bound up. And then, the ship started to tip. It tipped over because cannonballs had caused waves to hit the boat, causing it to rock back and forth. Marcos simply tumbled around as the boat rocked, sliding across the floor. Unfortunately, he slid to the edge of the flooring, faced with a hole in the hull of the ship. And, he was slowly sliding down. Before he was able to fall, the binding around his ankles got caught on the wood that was still intact. Marcos, now suspended upside-down, watched as the hull of another ship came closer and closer. He then came up with a spark of brilliancy.
He swung and twisted his body around, trying to loosen the wrappings around his feet, while wedging a piece of wood between the wrapping around his wrists. The wrapping around his wrists were the first to go. So, with his newly freed hands, he reached up and started to undo the wrapping around his ankles. Before he could untie it, though, some cargo had made it free and was speeding towards Marcos. He leaned backwards and barely missed being hit by the heavy cargo, but his feet were uncaught from the wood. Marcos braced himself as he hit the water.
After quickly gaining his orientation again, he would start moving, swimming upwards, to the surface. And, when he breached the surface, he found he was faced by the hull of the opposing ship. Either climb on, or sink, he thought. He chose to climb on, grabbing the wood lining of the hull and climbing upwards, holding on for dear life. When there was nowhere else to grab, he simply held on, not wanting to go back into the water and risk drowning, or recapture. Marcos was prepared to face the crew of the new ship, deducing that it was not a slave ship, at least.
._.
That was random.
That was random.
There's my character.
Name: Jonas Eldrin
Age: 16
Appearance:
Race: High Elf
Inherent Magic: Illusory/Psyche Magic: Rather than alteration of the physical worlds, Jonas's magics alter the mental worlds. While not having many forms of direct attacks, he can create illusions and mess with the thoughts and knowledge of others, fooling those whom can be fooled.
Bio/Personality: Jonas mainly just keeps to his books. He is polite and mannered, but just don't interrupt him while he is studying. Do so, and he gets seriously irate. A bit of an aspiring erudite, wanting to know all there is to know. He studied with masters of the arcane from a very young age, and has recently gone his own path to learn more about magic, more than his masters could teach him so far. He was promised a permanent place amongst them if he returned with new knowledge.
Important Personal Belongings: A book that he's always seen with. No one else has read it other than Jonas, and he prefers to keep it that way. Speculated to be forbidden knowledge.
Age: 16
Appearance:
Race: High Elf
Inherent Magic: Illusory/Psyche Magic: Rather than alteration of the physical worlds, Jonas's magics alter the mental worlds. While not having many forms of direct attacks, he can create illusions and mess with the thoughts and knowledge of others, fooling those whom can be fooled.
Bio/Personality: Jonas mainly just keeps to his books. He is polite and mannered, but just don't interrupt him while he is studying. Do so, and he gets seriously irate. A bit of an aspiring erudite, wanting to know all there is to know. He studied with masters of the arcane from a very young age, and has recently gone his own path to learn more about magic, more than his masters could teach him so far. He was promised a permanent place amongst them if he returned with new knowledge.
Important Personal Belongings: A book that he's always seen with. No one else has read it other than Jonas, and he prefers to keep it that way. Speculated to be forbidden knowledge.
chukklehed said
Oh you know, I'm pretty fucking pissed right now. Get this shit. I started playing Fallout 3, and there's this TINY fucking gaping a bridge which is JUST FUCKING BIG ENOUGH for your character to fall in, but not wide enough for them to fall out again. Since your character never lands, you can't fast travel or drop things while "falling" and my one litteral saving grace was ruined by poor overwrite systems.
Looks like you need a big ol' hug!
*gives a big ol' hug*
Any better?
Haven't seen that one yet. Mainly seen Koko Hekmatyar doing...things. Sometimes to Valmet.
It's weird.
Anywho, how's everyone? Is everyone fine and dandy? Or is everyone all negative Nancy?
It's weird.
Anywho, how's everyone? Is everyone fine and dandy? Or is everyone all negative Nancy?
It is generally unwise to take a bath with your toaster.
Also.
Also.
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