Lauder

Blades of the Blood Coast

@POOHEAD189

Don't worry, I'm just practicing the art of standing perfectly still and being invisible.

Blades of the Blood Coast

A post. A post. My kingdom for a post!

Warhammer 40k - Brave New World [Shipwrecked Colony RP] (Looking for more Survivors!)

I am very interested in this! Is it alright to make a character?

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay, Mk. V

Character Sheet

Domain:
Pain.

Pain, emotional and physical are all indicative of what it truly means to be alive in the world whether or not one is cognitive of feeling such emotional rife. It is pain that drives others to push forwards, morphing boys into men and morphing men into true champions for becoming powerful brings with it more pain. Such is the grim duty of Ketmera, acting as a reminder of danger and grief so that all can become stronger than what they once were. Around her, mortals can be filled with the pain of loss or overcome with far more physical pain and it is such things that she controls, even if it affects her as well.

Myth:
A young man stood over a funeral pyre, looking down upon the body of a great warrior who had died to old age not too long ago. The young man, the son, had an impassive look as he gazed upon the old form that was in front of him. He had not known his father much, not until he was old enough to take up arms and join his father on the fields of battle, but such times were long ago. There was still no sadness, just a feeling of knowing that they had lost a great warrior who would have know doubt fought valiantly longer had he had the opportunity to. The young man’s features did not change as he raised an arm that carried a torch, yet even as he knew that he had light the pure he could not bring himself to.

An arm came upon the back of his shoulder, causing him to spin around in surprise as nothing had made a sound. His eyes set upon that of an old lady, looking upon the body of the old warrior. He relaxed, knowing she posed no threat as he turned back to face his father in silence.

“An old friend?” The young man asked.

“In a way,” the old woman stated, solemnly as her eyes turned to the young man, “But he is not why I have come.”

“If you wish to speak to me then you can wait until after his body has been burned,” the young man responded, his voice cutting back with a bit of harshness he did not mean to.

“And yet you have not, young one,” the old woman said in a disinterested voice, “You have not moved on from your father’s death and that is why you have yet to free his soul from the mortal coils properly.”

Silence came onto the young man for a moment before nodding, “I suppose one could say that.”

“And how do you feel about your father’s death?” She asked.

“He was a fine warrior, it was a shame for his loss,” the young man answered.

“You say such things, but I can sense deep down you hold a great grief. Your father was a good man and, while he was not always around for you, you know that he cared deeply for you. You are pained by his loss,” the old woman explained, turning to the young man fully.

“You do not know how I feel,” the younger sneered, causing the old woman to cock an eyebrow.

“Why do you refuse to come to terms with the death of your father? Are you afraid to move on? Did you hold a longing for further time? Perhaps you-“ the old woman stopped, interrupted as the younger lashed out.

“He can’t leave us yet! Not when I have yet to have him meet his grandchildren, not when he has yet to say goodbye!” The young warrior barked, staring down at the woman with a face showing a great anger, yet, his eyes showed sadness. Then, a flash came through the great feeling of his breath coming to shake as he fell to his knees with tears from his eyes. He let out a wail of pain, unable to control himself anymore as grief overtook him.

The old woman, meanwhile, stepped forwards and gingerly wrapped her arms around the young man, running a hand upon the back of his head as she cooed, “Yes, we all long to finish things that have yet been finished or start upon tasks that we ought have. Yet, you know, that your father would have loved your child and that, even though you cannot hear him say goodbye, this is your chance to make peace.”

The young man’s shaken breath slowed as he wept, knowing that the old woman spoke true to what he needed to do. “But- what if my grief refuses to leave me?” He asked.

“It never will, but all you can do is grow from it. Know that so long as that grief is within you, you care for your father and know that it means you are alive,” the old woman stated in a soothing tone, “Now, do what you need to do.”

The young man rose from his knees, not looking upon the old woman but instead to the fallen. He rose up his hand with the torch and gazed into the closed eyes of his face before he uttered a few words, “Father, I will forever miss you. Let this be goodbye.” With a single swift motion, he threw the torch upon the base of the pyre and watched as the body began to burn away until there was nothing left. The grief had not gone but it had lightened, he turned to thank the old woman for being with him and instead saw that she had vanished despite knowing that she was with him the entire time. A look of confusion came upon his face before he looked to the distant hills and upon the crest of one, he saw the form of an old woman gazing with glowing eyes a white. While he could not see her features, the young man knew she was smiling.

Base Form:
Typically, the base form of an old woman dressed in ragged and black robes, her face is indistinguishable from underneath the hood and yet long strands of silvered hair flow from both sides of the hood. Every facet of her old and hunched over body is covered, but occasionally some may see a pair of glowing silvered eyes emerge from within.

True Form:
See image at top of sheet.

Musical Theme:

Blades of the Blood Coast

<Snipped quote by Fetzen>

Look, you can't argue with science. Dwarves are objectively the best. :P

@DrRtron

How can they be when the glory that is the Kobold exists? :P

Blades of the Blood Coast

Character Sheet Template

Falfer Silverhand

Burrowfolk | Thirty-Two | Male

Appearance

Falfer stands at approximately three feet and two inches in height, boastfully above average for his kind as he even cuts a slim figure to ‘look down’ upon those who would be jealous of his position and vast wealth. This Burrowfolk cuts a rather dashing figure with his long, exceptionally blond hair meticulously kept parted to the sides and with his sideburns drooping down to the sides of his cheeks. His eyes sport a chestnut brown and are always kept open wide enough to be seen as subtly alert.

His normal choice of clothing flaunts his money and status as a humble merchant with cloth cut from silk and other expensive materials. As such, he is never seen dirtied, so long as he can help it, nor would he be caught dead wearing the rags of the common folk or of the destitute that he would so commonly avoid. It is perhaps this that makes his apparel more overt and noticeable in a crowd, announcing his presence in grand splendor as he heartily laughs and coerces those who may be envious of such regal manners.

Truly, a humble merchant.

Personality

Falfer Silverhand takes after his father in many regards, boasting an arrogance and pride that would rival a dwarf and greed matching three times that. The Burrowfolk is perhaps a very shrewd and patient individual, knowing a deal when he sees one and offering no less than highway robbery to those who desperately need goods that would be peddled. It is the Royals that make the world go around and it is the Silvered Hand that aids in pushing such a thought as he meticulously counts his coins and jewels. However, he is a man who knows no such honour as it is commonly said that the Silverhand is attracted to the gold no matter what it may entail, as such, his view upon upholding good moral and an upstanding character is not within his realm of thought, giving none the courtesy of thought if it couldn’t profit himself.

Of course, no average person would deal with him if they knew of what lay beneath a veneer of charm and deception as Falfer does his best to hide his true greed and passion, going so far as to make ‘generous’ donations to those destitute and on the streets. Though, many of those would have been employed by him to simply give a large portion of the money back to him, such is the cunning of a Burrowfolk with an ego ten times his own height. None may say that Falfer is a fool, nor may they say that he is blind to the world around as he plans and conives each and every moment.

He is a true businessman.

Background

• Accountant
• Rogue - Mastermind
• Merchant-born

History

Barebones history

One may find it hard to believe, but Falfer Silverhand was born in Pumpkinhollow to a rather wealthy family of merchants, his father, Ursire Silverhand, and uncle being known for their peddling of goods to a myriad of different lands and peoples. Though he never got to truly see much of his father, given he was gone for most times on trade expeditions, it did afford him the chance to become properly educated through the wealth that had been accumulated. Falfer remembers that he had been put in front of a book ever since he graduated from being a mere toddler. His mother, Verula Silverhand, was of little help to Falfer’s development as she too would go on extravagant trips elsewhere, flaunting the wealth of Ursire whilst leaving her child in the care of servants and tutors. Perhaps it is here where Falfer had developed the notion that you are only worth as much coin as you have, as it seemed to him that his family only truly cared about flaunting their wealth.

It was when he was but a mere adolescent when Falfer would join his father upon a trade expedition to the lands of dwarves, it being the first time he would leave Pumpkinhollow and among the first where he would spend more than a week with his father. Yet, his father had barred him from official business talk, instead relegating his son to the task of inventory and coin counting. While Falfer did enjoy it, it was far from what he had imagined to what time he would spend on with Ursire. Yet, it opened up opportunities for even greater advancement, connections.

Where his father was truly an honorable merchant, Falfer certainly was not, as upon the expedition with his father, he came back with goods that were not openly allowed in Pumpkinhollow. Smuggling turned into a rather lucrative mission, at least at the time with earning a fair few Royals here and there, and with his new steady connections, he knew that he’d be able to accumulate further wealth in due time. However, the ever vigilant and learned Falfer quickly knew that he would have to funnel this dirty money away from himself and properly make it seem legitimate. So, he would end up paying people to either buy goods from his father’s business or to buy services from Falfer as a would-be accountant. Over the years, this strategy became a wide operation and when he was an adult he had already established himself when he moved away from his family. Falfer, always the thinker, would get him into trouble but he came up with the lofty idea of, “why not just lay them to turn the other way.”

At this point, Falfer was nothing more than the head of a smuggling business that was backed by a fair few guards and watchmen of Pumpkinhollow. The operation grew exponentially, quickly overcoming the logistics that he had set in place and it left him trying to keep pace with the income. It was something he simply could not keep up with and, in the end, his success would lead to his downfall and he tried desperately to rid himself of the ludicrous amount of wealth by loaning it out. All of it came crashing down as the investigations came upon him, even dwarven investigators following the trail to Pumpkinhollow, first to his father and then to himself. There was nothing he could do and he knew that his wealth would soon be forfeit as he rotted in some prison for the rest of his life.

So, he turned himself in to the authorities of Pumpkinhollow and confessed to every single one of his crimes in a bid to perhaps not be left in shackles. The full scope of his operation had been laid bare, pridefully, as he boasted the corruption within and without the city, giving names and figures on what would be one of the biggest financial scandals that Pumpkinhollow had ever seen. Falfer was beside himself seeing how quick some of the officials that he had bribed called for his execution in an attempt to rid themselves of him. However, his compliance was what got him out of the shackle and the axe, instead earning him exile from Pumpkinhollow and from the North in general as his name and figure would be spread so that none may do business with him.

Still, it was better than being left in jail.

Reason for Exile
Wholesale Corruption, Embezzlement, Tax Evasion. Bank Fraud, Money Laundering, Loansharking, twenty-eight separate accounts of bribery, three counts of forgery, and over a hundred counts of organized crime including theft.

Motivation
The simple answer is money. One good take is all Silverhand needs to slink away into the background to live a life of luxurious decadence, or perhaps he is too greedy for even that. But he just needs one last job.

Capabilities

Attributes
Combat

• One-Handed Sword

Intelligence

• Mathematics
• Literacy
• Appraisal
• Linguistics

Charisma

• Charm
• Deception

Health

Faculties

• Intuition

Agility

• Riding

Mysticism [0/1]

---

Equipment

Money

Languages

Northern, Dwarven

---

Character Relationships

Your characters have only known one another for the week it has taken to move your wagon through the Inner Kingdoms, with only a marginal time to speak. This is where you put your initial thoughts of each character, and you edit these as their opinions change. This also includes the Merc NPC.

Character Name

Character Name

Character Name

Character Name

Character Name

Blades of the Blood Coast

@POOHEAD189

Eyy lmao *dabs*

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay, Mk. V

Character Sheet

Domain:
Pain.

Pain, emotional and physical are all indicative of what it truly means to be alive in the world whether or not one is cognitive of feeling such emotional rife. It is pain that drives others to push forwards, morphing boys into men and morphing men into true champions for becoming powerful brings with it more pain. Such is the grim duty of Ketmera, acting as a reminder of danger and grief so that all can become stronger than what they once were. Around her, mortals can be filled with the pain of loss or overcome with far more physical pain and it is such things that she controls, even if it affects her as well.

Myth:
A young man stood over a funeral pyre, looking down upon the body of a great warrior who had died to old age not too long ago. The young man, the son, had an impassive look as he gazed upon the old form that was in front of him. He had not known his father much, not until he was old enough to take up arms and join his father on the fields of battle, but such times were long ago. There was still no sadness, just a feeling of knowing that they had lost a great warrior who would have know doubt fought valiantly longer had he had the opportunity to. The young man’s features did not change as he raised an arm that carried a torch, yet even as he knew that he had light the pure he could not bring himself to.

An arm came upon the back of his shoulder, causing him to spin around in surprise as nothing had made a sound. His eyes set upon that of an old lady, looking upon the body of the old warrior. He relaxed, knowing she posed no threat as he turned back to face his father in silence.

“An old friend?” The young man asked.

“In a way,” the old woman stated, solemnly as her eyes turned to the young man, “But he is not why I have come.”

“If you wish to speak to me then you can wait until after his body has been burned,” the young man responded, his voice cutting back with a bit of harshness he did not mean to.

“And yet you have not, young one,” the old woman said in a disinterested voice, “You have not moved on from your father’s death and that is why you have yet to free his soul from the mortal coils properly.”

Silence came onto the young man for a moment before nodding, “I suppose one could say that.”

“And how do you feel about your father’s death?” She asked.

“He was a fine warrior, it was a shame for his loss,” the young man answered.

“You say such things, but I can sense deep down you hold a great grief. Your father was a good man and, while he was not always around for you, you know that he cared deeply for you. You are pained by his loss,” the old woman explained, turning to the young man fully.

“You do not know how I feel,” the younger sneered, causing the old woman to cock an eyebrow.

“Why do you refuse to come to terms with the death of your father? Are you afraid to move on? Did you hold a longing for further time? Perhaps you-“ the old woman stopped, interrupted as the younger lashed out.

“He can’t leave us yet! Not when I have yet to have him meet his grandchildren, not when he has yet to say goodbye!” The young warrior barked, staring down at the woman with a face showing a great anger, yet, his eyes showed sadness. Then, a flash came through the great feeling of his breath coming to shake as he fell to his knees with tears from his eyes. He let out a wail of pain, unable to control himself anymore as grief overtook him.

The old woman, meanwhile, stepped forwards and gingerly wrapped her arms around the young man, running a hand upon the back of his head as she cooed, “Yes, we all long to finish things that have yet been finished or start upon tasks that we ought have. Yet, you know, that your father would have loved your child and that, even though you cannot hear him say goodbye, this is your chance to make peace.”

The young man’s shaken breath slowed as he wept, knowing that the old woman spoke true to what he needed to do. “But- what if my grief refuses to leave me?” He asked.

“It never will, but all you can do is grow from it. Know that so long as that grief is within you, you care for your father and know that it means you are alive,” the old woman stated in a soothing tone, “Now, do what you need to do.”

The young man rose from his knees, not looking upon the old woman but instead to the fallen. He rose up his hand with the torch and gazed into the closed eyes of his face before he uttered a few words, “Father, I will forever miss you. Let this be goodbye.” With a single swift motion, he threw the torch upon the base of the pyre and watched as the body began to burn away until there was nothing left. The grief had not gone but it had lightened, he turned to thank the old woman for being with him and instead saw that she had vanished despite knowing that she was with him the entire time. A look of confusion came upon his face before he looked to the distant hills and upon the crest of one, he saw the form of an old woman gazing with glowing eyes a white. While he could not see her features, the young man knew she was smiling.

Base Form:
Typically, the base form of an old woman dressed in ragged and black robes, her face is indistinguishable from underneath the hood and yet long strands of silvered hair flow from both sides of the hood. Every facet of her old and hunched over body is covered, but occasionally some may see a pair of glowing silvered eyes emerge from within.

True Form:
See image at top of sheet.

Musical Theme:

Blades of the Blood Coast

I know have Falfer into a workable character sheet, didn’t know if you wanted me to do the Relationships yet, @POOHEAD189, given that he wouldn’t meeting the party immediately.

Blades of the Blood Coast