Lucky

Attack on Titan RP?

I possibly could be. I'll keep a close eye here.

Slay the Spire

Are you still accepting people for this? I have so much time in StS and Monster Train (hey, maybe that'll be your next RP) and I've never considered RP for it.

Weirdness Magnetism ~ Gravity Falls RP

Hello!

I don't have any knowledge of the show, really. Looking at the symbol reservation, does that mean anything more? Should I know more before I throw my card in this?

Lucky's Charmers

Cassie

[+]

The Finders’ Trade Union

Transfer Application

Name:

Cassia “Cassie” Nuheart

Race:

Numan Highland Elf

Birth Date:

25/05/125

Gender:

Female

Appearance:

A young elven woman of some notable highlands descent. Her rather dimunitive size calls back to her heritage, though her strict upbringing and outdoors training clearly show she works to stay more agile and powerful than the classic scholarly elf. Her casual stance shows off more of her figure than if she were to follow the by-the-books style of her predecessors, always a hand pressed to her hip while she stands idle.

Beginning with Cassie’s most prominent feature is her platinum hair, glowing incandescently while she is out in the sun in direct contrast to her professional midnight attire. A spattering of freckles spray across the bridge of her nose and the wings of her cheeks, blending her fair skin with lively hazel eyes. Her brows seem only to receive the lightest of attention, and between them a gradual curve to a slight upturned nook of her nose.

Her shoulders are regularly relaxed and low, though the most she will do to make a presence is to puff up her chest and pull her shoulders back as she was taught when the situation calls for it. Freckles frequently dot the wide open spaces of her exposed neck, chest, and more noticeably her shoulders.

A compass portraying the four cardinal directions is inked into the upper left of her back, and a recognizable gauntlet belonging to the god Ephemeras clutches the device within its ghastly grasp. The entirety of her right arm, from her elbow to her fingertips, is covered in a sleeve of tattoos. They don’t seem to be a single cohesive unit, but the artist who applied them knew to work them together as if telling a fairy tale.

Swirling shapes form a band immediately below her elbow, but on closer inspection the shapes reveal themselves to be dozens of rat silhouettes scurrying over and past one another in an endless race around her arm. Along the inside of her forearm is an elven script, calligraphed in such a way as if they were carved into stone rather than flesh, and for any elvish reader it says, “True Treasure is to Enrich the Soul;” an old Dwarven saying that has seen a resurgence in the last century. A few shadowy rats sneak along its borders.

The open side of her forearm is a splash of colors and patterns. Black outlines of falling rodents from their eternal race appear in the foreground of purple spiderwebs and a large, veiled spider with a spiked skull on its abdomen. The skull’s sockets are stuffed with cut amethysts and seem to follow nothing in particular, and its elongated, segmented legs reach around to the stone script, almost overlapping its frame. At the forefront of the dark spider are cracked mandibles, threatening to sink its fangs into her wrist as small, strung-up cocoons surround its thorax.

An ever-present symbol takes up the backside of her hand, the sigil of the Finders Union: the silhouette of an airplane with a green radar overlay, commonly mistaken for a target. On each knuckle is a tool: primary finger has a shovel/pick combo; secondary finger has a bundle of rope; tertiary finger is a crowbar/hammer combo; her smallest finger has binoculars; and her thumb has a flashlight. There is no negative space to be seen in this sleeve, every inch coated in prismatic colors.

She claims to have more tattoos, though she will only show them on invitation.

Personality:

Easygoing. Sentimental. Vain. Impulsive. A firecracker to some and a non-entity to others, Cassie separates her energy from anything worth adventuring from the duller aspects of life. Not averse to having guests in her personal spaces, one could find all the various objects that she has recovered and restored proudly displayed along wall shelves and even a few freestanding columns. Whether her corner nook of the workshop or her bedroom, trophy finds are shown.

As a young one, Cassie was a regular menace for the neighborhood livestock. Sneaking along the shadows, ambushing “prey,” riding beasts of burden; all just another day in the life of an aspiring adventurer. Her enthusiasm outwardly has mellowed, though anyone that knows her well enough will see the passion she holds for discovering new places, traversing landmarks, and claiming new and strange treasures. In the face of danger, she is usually quick to react with a cool head thanks to her regular training and practice.

When it comes to people, it is a slightly different story. She is also prone to going on the defensive when any accusation comes her way and can only really confess her mistakes when evidence is presented. Otherwise, excuses come easily.

Cassie is dedicated to her skill sets and craft. Considered a morning person, she gets up as the sun rises to do her daily runs and won’t return until she’s broken a sweat. She prides herself on her cardio, easily outlasting any of her teammates for long treks. For the rest of the day, should she have to stay in the city, her attention is usually on restoring all types of artifacts or learning their history and uses. Few are as protective as she when it comes to dealing with BC technology.

History:

Born in the city of Ashton, northwest of Sparta, Cassie was raised by her large elven family. A tight-knit community of elves, they focused on the ability to thrive with their surroundings and adjust to the environment rather than expansion and exploration. This didn’t settle too well with the active young Cassia, a girl that commonly climbed the highest trees and ran to the boundaries of safety. Nonetheless, she took in the practices of her people in this very new world they are trying to adapt to, not understanding the dread of their lifespans being more than cut in half.

A caravan of human explorers pass through their neck of the woods, staying as guests for a few days before moving on. Their time was not wasted on Cassie, though, as she pestered the men and women for stories and to show off their skills. Inspired by their ideals and attitudes, she pressed her family for years to let her join a company that will explore ruins and discover new people. Although reluctant to the newer generation’s passion-driven and often-times foolhardy goals, they accepted that this new way of life may be a new way for the highland elves to survive.

And so Cassie was sent off to Ashton’s prime exploration and restoration company, the Finders’ Trade Union. There she was trained for a year on wilderness survival, scavenging, and related skills. Once she was deemed ready, they allowed her on her first common expedition. A successful return, and the FTU decided it was time to expand and to send their recruits to a newly established base in Sparta.

Having lived in Sparta for another year now, Cassie has gone on multiple smaller expeditions to create a line of trade and craft. Unknown to the Union was that the Magocratic Tegary has begun occupying Sparta with little to no resistance, and now they release a statement noting that a mage must be present for every expedition.

Skills:

+Running (Marathon)
+Item Restoration
+Item Handling
+Local History
+Marksman (Compound Bow)
+Cartography
+Climbing

Items of Note:

Finders’ Trade Union Attire
-Charcoal Black High-Collar Long Coat w/ Zipper Hood
-Charcoal Black Undershirt
-Charcoal Black Utility Pants w/ Leather Belt
-Charcoal Black Hiking Boots
Personal Taser
Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 380 (13 rounds on-hand)
Compound Bow (8 in quiver, 25 in pack)
Hand Multi-Tool
Bowie Knife
All-Terrain Bicycle w/ Electric Motor

Notable Abilities:

No magic to speak of.

Transcribed by Amanuensis Elessa Weiss

RP: Off-Site

Yggdrasil Chronicles: Iron Grip

Winston Wicklowe

Featuring: @Lucky

---

The second story to Loads of Loads is more than a home to all the stored gears and parts for Wicklowe's eventual innovations, but it is also his home. A small corner, surrounded by very large and heavy crates and lightly furnished like a makeshift bedroom, is a simple yet comfortable layout: a solid rosewood work desk covered in blueprints, steel dip-pens of varying colors along with other useful craftsman's utensils, and an adjustable brass lamp that oversees the messy stacks of aging files complete with a simple cushioned wooden chair; a minimalist brass bedframe and bed set with a foot and headboard that are topped with surprisingly intricate spindles and covered in a handmade brown duvet with white trim; a decade-old room heater unit that Winston has to fix on a monthly basis but has reliably kept him warm every heavy winter; and a circular, brown-and-white tasseled rug to take up the center of the otherwise plain wooden flooring.

The gnome has been awake for hours at this point in the morning, entering his room after retrieving a steaming cup of coffee from across the lane that is kept warm in his personal prototype thermos. The old halfling barista has perfected the art of coffee-making and even has a whole large machine that cooks and flavors so perfectly and by the cogs why won't the old fool just let him take it apart and put it back together so he can make a better version?! With a scoff to no one but the stale air, he approaches the lone foggy window that overlooks the alley and wipes it clear. There's never anything to note in this alley, it's too narrow for any traffic beyond two people walking side by side, and just ten feet across the way is the neighboring building to block any daylight save the skies directly above and almost impossible to see without pressing his cheeks against the glass. Which he promptly does, full reddened cheeks flatten as his beard leaves behind hair marks in the uncleared condensation.

Far above him are the frosted heavens, an imperial airship just now coming into view beyond the rooftops, and his dreams to change it all. He pulls away from the window, face colder and slightly wetter than before, and produces a copper pocket watch with his free, gloved hand. An hour before the meeting at Baron Hesser's estate, give or take. He takes a swig from his thermos and inspects himself in the mirror he has hanging on from one of the crates, a temporary decision that's lasted the better part of a decade now. A flair of stripe pink stands out from his otherwise muted black hair, an odd turn from the expected gray. Maybe related to all the mana crystals he's handled over the years. Probably. His skin is leathery and tan aside from the pale circles immediately surrounding his eyes, providing evidence of goggles during his heat works. He lingers on the oil-stained overalls, this pair only being a few weeks old but showing major signs of wear and tear via frayed boot cuffs and shredded knees.

Opting for a new set of clothes, he quickly changed into a clean, less-worn set of brown overalls and gray long-sleeved undershirt. Soon he throws on his heavy jacket, one meant for colder climates but perfect for the small person, and fastens a pin to the front that has the text "Loads of Loads" in circular format and a set of pistons and mana crystals. Confident in his more "official" attire, Winston strides out of his room but stopping just short of the stairs that lead to the main workshop. His steel blue eyes are stuck to the desk, specifically the drawer where he hides Candle. A short debate within his head and he decides against taking it with him for today. Word on the street is the number of checkpoints through Tyberia have increased and getting shaken down for possession of a weapon within the city is the last sort of trouble he wants.

Descending the stairs and traversing the workshop with renewed expedience, he snatches his Adjustable Arm Angler™ by the front door and locks it on his way out. The simple machine is set up onto a hook on the doorframe as he leaves, and soon the engineer is walking down the lane to busier places. Various magicar taxis pass him by, but he enjoys the stroll for about ten minutes before flagging down a vehicle. Small piles of dirty snow still litter the sides of the streets and Winston can't help but think that perhaps he should have checked out the Forecaster and brought along his leather umbrella, just in case. Nonetheless, his trip is uneventful as he shortly told the driver his destination (a quaint little shop of sundries about three blocks down from the Baron's manor) and racked his brain with what he wanted to talk about in the coming meeting.

Dropping off a few roots with the driver as they arrive, he hops out of the magicar and checks his watch once more. Half an hour. Making good time. Can take a look-see in Sunny's Sundries and still be early to the estate. With this in mind, he pops into the store. There are few items of note inside, but he'll come back after the meeting if it doesn't drag on too long. Soon, Winston is on the sidewalk again and makes it to the estate with ten minutes to spare. He uses this time to inspect the property, checking out the hedges, the gates, all the things that people with fortune can show off. Instead of inviting himself in right away, he lollygags around the the property, keeping open eyes for anyone else that walks up. Preferably someone he knows.

After Action Report

- Winston got coffee
- Winston changed clothes
- Winston leaves Candle at home
- Winston takes a taxi to a store near Baron Hesser's manor and walks the rest of the way

Yggdrasil Chronicles: Iron Grip

Antedate: Far Sight

Featuring: @GingerBoi123@Lucky

Climacta, Day 15 10:15AM

---

The great city of Tyberia, alight with colorful bulbs all along its many alleys and storefronts, celebrates the near-closing of another year. Two days ago there was a light sludge snowfall, but activities resume as the streets are cleared and the walkways are safe for tourists and locals alike. Stalls show off their best ornamentation, their most popular goods, and their cheeriest voices. One alley in particular, Oring Lane, is no stranger to the festivities as a leather umbrella salesman traipses up and down its cobblestone path and a kabob vendor barely notices the winding line of hungry customers as he happily chats and cooks on his portable copper stand.

Were it not for the delightful mood and demeanor of all the cityfolk, the dreary clouds above that make the day feel like evening would damper the effects of hot cocoa and meat-and-veggies-on-a-stick. One Gnomish Winston Wicklowe is no exception as he struts away from the covered kabob vendor with two hefty cooked stick foods, one in each hand.

”Good-bye for now, Artun!” He takes a surprisingly large chomp out of the biggest chunk of meat from the right kabob. With a mouthful of meat he just manages to utter out, ”And don’t forget, I’m workin’ on a spiffy little gadget for ya!” The young Human could only offer a quick wave in response as he continues his work.

The engineer patters his way back to his workshop, his foot trail winding behind him like a snake with legs as he checks out his neighbors’ window fronts. Eventually he makes it back to his own familiar door, a worn-out bronze handle and a cog door knocker set into a once-beautiful finished hickory door. He looks up at the handle just out of his reach and shifts one of the kabobs over to his left hand and fishes out his Adjustable Arm Angler (™), using the personal widget with practiced efficiency and letting himself in where a fire pit awaits him. Just before the door closes, he turns on his heels and snags the “Out For Lunch” sign from the door knocker.

With a content sigh, the Gnome makes his way to his favorite winged leather chair and settles into it, focused only on the fire and his lunch.

High above the bustling streets that hosted the festival, a lone figure sat in watch. The life of a vigilante deserter had not been kind, and Ilya had to remain in the shadows for even the most mundane of tasks. Even groceries had become an ordeal to not be recognised by Asgardian soldiers. However, it felt… natural to the Elf. He surveyed the streets through the scope of his precious Silent Rose. In particular, he observed the movements of a small gnome with a shock of pink hair who was walking to his shop. Ilya would wait a few moments longer before making his move.

It might’ve been only a few seconds until the Loads of Loads front door swung back open, the jingle of the bell notifying Wicklowe of a customer. Winston would notice the familiar, tired face of Ilya Scarborough who had just pulled his face covering down. Not the tallest of Elves, but Ilya certainly had the more slender frame of his kind. The only noise was the rhythmic thud of his boots as he marched towards the counter. Ilya had come to pick up his custom order that the two had agreed upon about a month ago.

Word of the eccentric Winston Wicklowe had piqued the attention of the Whisper and he saw an opportunity to further evolve his arsenal. His last pair of binoculars were destroyed from one of Ilya’s personal operations. Turns out binoculars weren’t highly effective bludgeoning tools but it got the job done when nothing else was at hand. When it came for a replacement, Ilya wanted to see what this ‘Wicklowe’ was truly capable of.

Ilya said nothing as he walked into the store, instead finding a chair to block the door behind him, making sure that no one would be able to follow or enter without a decent bit of force. Once he had the entrance covered, he would simply await at the counter.

There is a lull in the air as it is presumed that Wicklowe doesn’t notice the new arrival, still stuffing his maw with roasted vegetables and grilled meats. There is something disorderly about the way he eats, practically growling at the food as he slides a small onion off the long stick. There is much to be said about the way he eats like this alone on a daily basis. Though without any warning, the Gnome hops off his small chair and tosses the bare sticks into the fireplace. He twists his body to look at the Elf in his shop, reaching down to his pants and wiping the grease off before running one of his hands through his hair to slick it back ‘professionally.’

”Good morning, ehh--” Winston finishes combing with his fingers but looks at his stained hand that is now bearing a few loose hairs between his digits. ”Emmett?” His feet quickly take him from the little space that was opposite the front counter and around to the built-in ramp that brings him just below Ilya’s eyeline. Behind Ilya is the small winged leather chair and a fire suitable for a Gnome but not quite enough to heat up the whole store by itself. Thankfully some rattling heater units line the wall’s floorboards.

Winston slides a large, leather-bound book from one side to between the two of them. With plenty of familiarity, he grabs at the center of it and the cover and pulls it open, only about two or three pages off where Ilya’s order is. With only a bit of verbal pauses and rough paper-handling, he finds it. ”Ah! Ilya! Scarborough.” He looks up at the Elf expectantly.

Ilya watched as Winston would sort himself out from his meal. There wasn’t much point to addressing the Gnome’s original mistake or his general cleanliness. Wicklowe got there in the end, so what did it matter? Although, it seemed the rumours were true regarding his quirky mannerisms and behaviours. Ilya gave the Gnome a small nod as he was addressed. ”Yes… I’m… sorry I have butted in during your meal…” The Elf answered quietly, voice afflicted with lethargy. While he did mean his apology, it probably didn’t sound like it.

The engineer’s stubby index finger is pressed against Ilya’s name in the index, some basic info scrawled out in the following lines but it is relatively empty compared to other customers. Ilya’s apology evidently went over his head like a paper dirigible, now turning large sections of the book to a separate area where full invoices are written out.

”Ah, yes. Custom binocular goggle set, or as I like to call it, the Ocular De-Obfuscator! Complete with your requested specifications: dual foci lens, mana-powered low light-vision, and ultra-cool looks!” Winston bends over to retrieve a small simple wooden box with a hastily handwritten tag nailed to one corner of it. While moving quickly, he carefully sets the box down on the counter and pulls open the compartment from one end to reveal a set of inactive goggles, laid atop a linen cloth within a bed of straw for cushioning.

Light, adjustable leather straps are pressed and wrapped up neatly beneath two large sights that will sit comfortably over anyone’s face, more lining on the inside of the eyes. A half steel, half glass compartment indentation sits directly in the center with a light orange crystal, ready to go. Without picking up the set, Winston reaches into the box and his fingers press against particular pieces to demo the product.

”This here will close the mana viewer, for when you’re tryin’ to be sneaky. This switch will set up the night vision compatible lens. An’ just flip these to enable zoom enhancement. Once it sets up like this, just turn the eyes to take a closer look; they work clockwise and counter-clockwise.”

Ilya watched intently at the demonstration of the goggles, taking in every feature that was pointed out as he leaned forward to inspect the product further. Once Winston was done explaining, he would look over the goggles for just a bit longer before gently taking the equipment and stretching the strap over his head. Various clicks and whirs would whizz to life as Ilya set about using the features himself as well as shifting his rifle, using the sling, so he could test the combination of his sights with the goggles. ”This is wonderful, Mister Wicklowe.” He would compliment with just as much enthusiasm as usual… which was none at all.

Pushing the goggles up to rest on his forehead, Ilya would procure a pouch of roots and set it on the table. After pushing it closer to Wick’s side of the counter, Ilya would then produce a smaller pouch. ”And this… this can be considered my gratitude.” Ilya had a slight smirk as he set this one down too, the familiar metal clinking meant that Wicklowe had earned himself a small little bonus on top of the price. ”You can treat yourself to some more of those kabobs with this, no?”

While the Gnome readily accepted the remaining payment and whisked away the first root pouch to some unseen place beneath the counter, his movement slowed with the introduction of the second. He eyes it warily, looking up at the Elf several times.

”That’s not necessary, Whisper. If you’ve roots to spare, give it to the needy.” He reaches out and pushes the pouch back across the counter to Ilya. ”You can find ‘em all up and down these alleys.” The engineer murmurs under his breath, muffled by his bushy beard and mustache.

”You know of my nickname? Well then… you understand why I cannot simply roam the streets.” Ilya pointed out before pushing back the pouch. ”I do not care what you do with these roots, but I insist you take them. Or I will simply leave it on the counter when I leave. Your choice.” The Elf shrugged nonchalantly.

Winston huffs, setting both hands onto the counter’s edge and leaning in towards the Elf now. ”Yes, I’ve heard that nickname,” he drops his tone to be quieter, even as he knows nobody else is inside the shop and, thanks to the chair Ilya pushed up against the front door, nobody will stumble into their new conversation. ”After the first time you came in and put that order in, I asked around. An Elf, quiet as the breeze along the walls and expert sharpshooter. Takes measures to not be seen or heard. There are rumors, kid.”

He seems to be focused on Ilya’s presence and what it could mean for him. For the cause. Talking about the money is the least of his concerns for now.

”Are you sure you don’t want to meet those you can help?”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. It seemed that some other rumours might be true, if what Wicklowe would be insinuating. ”I do my best work from afar, Wicklowe… but if you think there are those I can help while doing that, then I’m all ears.” The sniper would lean forward slightly as his tone finally had a shift of emotion. An air of gravitas fell over the shop. ”What do you have in mind?”

After Action Report

- Winston enjoys some kabobs
- Ilya covertly picks up his custom order goggles
- Winston hints at helping the people to Ilya

Yggdrasil Chronicles: Iron Grip

Thank you! I've been using everyone else's sheets as inspiration!

@GingerBoi123

I'm really excited because everyone's produced really well-written CSes so far! Very promising.

Yggdrasil Chronicles: Iron Grip

Well it's good you found one! I look forward to seeing what you produce.

Yggdrasil Chronicles: Iron Grip

If you were going gnome, I'd say that I feel you there! Not enough gnomes!

Yggdrasil Chronicles: Iron Grip

Could help others who haven't finished their CSes yet, too.