Maki the Finn

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Name: Helruthnir
Alias: Frostmother
Sex: female
Race: green dragon (former) frost wyrm (current)
Age: 62
Religion: Cult of the Charnel Lord
Backstory: Helruthnir started life as Elondala, a green dragon in the clutch of Forest Lord Echrantu in the southern wilds of Asmeinland. She had a rather generic life, for a dragon, and when she came of age, she migrated south to Rosiland, near the town Zelemoyod. There, in the mountains, she found a mate and had a brood of whelps.

Everything was going well before someone in the town one day noticed her mate returning home, and the Vilvere order was notified. While she was away, the Order slaughtered her young and mate, leaving nothing but a blood-stained lair. Distraught and confused, she flew back up to her home country, collapsing outside a town near the mountains of Asmeinland

She awoke to the sight of on-looking humans, half in shock and half in disbelief. No one moved til a small child threw a blanket over her foot in a gesture of kindness. This moved her to adopt the town as her own, helping the humans as uf they were her brood. A lair was made by the grateful townsfolk near the mountains, carved into the very stones; where she hoarded books, crystals, and magical incense within. When Htranku attacked the town she tried to protect them, ultimately failing. Her corpse was locked in the lair and the large door was magically sealed with a keystone; now kept in Htranku's hoard.

Esben was exploring around the ruins of the town when he came upon her corpse. He reanimated her corpse to interrogate her. At first, Helruthnir remembered very little, but as she is questioned, she starts to recall her past life; and hatred of the Order.

Motivation: to acquire the keystone to free herself, destruction of the vilvere order
Magic: as a dragon, Hel can naturally use magic. She is regaining her proficiency in frost magic and necromancy
Skills/Strengths: resistant to heat/fire, innate knowledge of magic, can switch between forms
Weaknesses: currently locked in her lair, still recovering from resurrection, switching between forms multiple times induces fatigue, burning hatred for the The Vilvere order to the point of madness
Gear: robes, undergarments, Jasper, Staff of Frost,
Other: while Helruthnir had immense knowledge of the arcane before she was killed, it was mostly lost after resurrection. She spends most of her time reading the hoard of books she owns and creating undead. (Over the course of the RP she will relearn magic) Her lair is guarded by undead, and 5 necromancers
Appearance: “human” form imgur.com/gallery/XME9mzp dragon form imgur.com/gallery/CpoKR1W

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Name: Helruthnir
Alias: Frostmother
Sex: female
Race: green dragon (former) frost wyrm (current)
Age: 62
Religion: Cult of the Charnel Lord
Backstory: Helruthnir started life as Elondala, a green dragon in the clutch of Forest Lord Echrantu in the southern wilds of Asmeinland. She had a rather generic life, for a dragon, and when she came of age, she migrated south to Rosiland, near the town Zelemoyod. There, in the mountains, she found a mate and had a brood of whelps.

Everything was going well before someone in the town one day noticed her mate returning home, and the Vilvere order was notified. While she was away, the Order slaughtered her young and mate, leaving nothing but a blood-stained lair. Distraught and confused, she flew back up to her home country, collapsing outside a town near the mountains of Asmeinland

She awoke to the sight of on-looking humans, half in shock and half in disbelief. No one moved til a small child threw a blanket over her foot in a gesture of kindness. This moved her to adopt the town as her own, helping the humans as uf they were her brood. A lair was made by the grateful townsfolk near the mountains, carved into the very stones; where she hoarded books, crystals, and magical incense within. When Htranku attacked the town she tried to protect them, ultimately failing. Her corpse was locked in the lair and the large door was magically sealed with a keystone; now kept in Htranku's hoard.

Esben was exploring around the ruins of the town when he came upon her corpse. He reanimated her corpse to interrogate her. At first, Helruthnir remembered very little, but as she is questioned, she starts to recall her past life; and hatred of the Order.

Motivation: to acquire the keystone to free herself, destruction of the vilvere order
Magic: as a dragon, Hel can naturally use magic. She is regaining her proficiency in frost magic and necromancy
Skills/Strengths: resistant to heat/fire, innate knowledge of magic, can switch between forms
Weaknesses: currently locked in her lair, still recovering from resurrection, switching between forms multiple times induces fatigue, burning hatred for the The Vilvere order to the point of madness
Gear: robes, undergarments, Jasper, Staff of Frost,
Other: while Helruthnir had immense knowledge of the arcane before she was killed, it was mostly lost after resurrection. She spends most of her time reading the hoard of books she owns and creating undead. (Over the course of the RP she will relearn magic) Her lair is guarded by undead, and 5 necromancers
Appearance: “human” form imgur.com/gallery/XME9mzp dragon form imgur.com/gallery/CpoKR1W

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

The sun broke upon Esben's face. A few hundred years ago he would've called this a pleasant day. But not anymore; not while daylight still burned. He reclined in the shade of some fir trees, as he pondered his next action. "Lord, we have some urgent news. A band of refugees from the north is heading right under us, they seem to be heading south." The cultist bowed, and waited for a response. "Prepare the Magi, we shall capture as many as we can alive, but leave any that prove resistant to me." The cultist bowed once again, then departed. Esben hadn't had any quality vitae in weeks, only the vapid blood of the northern cultists. While he respected their sacrifice for him, Esben was going to relish the opportunity to sink his fangs into some animated prey.

As night fell, the refugees slowed, and made camp. Tired from their long journey, they would be easy prey. From atop the hills, the Thaumaturgists prepared to strike. Esben conjured his sword and shield, as he waited for the camp to settle down. When the last light was snuffed out, he sounded the horn; the cultists laid into the camp and decimated the night watch. After the men fell, the women and children weren't far behind, except for one boy. He was dragged, kicking and swearing, to the feet of Esben."Well, I didnt think I'd find anyone with any fight left in this camp. Say, boy, what is your name?"
"My name is Magni Feigrrson, and I am no boy." He said, as he spat into his oppressor's face. "If you have any honor, you would allow me to die in combat; so I can join my father."
"Bold words from a man child, but I will grant your request." Esben whistled, and a cultist threw an arming sword in front of Magni. As he reached for the weapon, Esben spoke once more, "If you pick up the sword, boy, you sign your own death warrant. You have no hope of defeating me. How about you join our cult instead?" He extended his left hand to help the boy off the ground, but Magni instead picked up the sword with lightning speed and severed Esben's gaunlet at the wrist. He cried out in pain, but the cry devolved to maniacal laughter as the blood from his wound coagulated, forming a new hand. "Too bad I already lost that hand, kid." Esben's sword, Deathknell, was conjured through the blood from his wound as he struck the boy's sword; leaving an audible screech in the air as metal and Bloodsteel collided ."Lets see how you fight without your cheap shots! He swung again, nicking Magni's ribcage with a glancing blow. "I would rather die on my feet, than serve on my knees!" He said, wincing at the pain and slaming his sword into Esben's. "Sorry, boy, but thats not how this is going to end!" Enunciating his threat with a riposte, and a cleave through Magni's swordarm. As he fell to his knees in pain, he spoke through clenched teeth, "You promised you would kill me!" The boy flung his head up to look at Esben, who was now also kneeling.
"Oh I am going to kill you; I'm a man of my word after all. But first, I'm hungry. You put me through a lot of trouble, cutting my hand off. You will pay for that, now." Esben sunk his fangs into his opponent's neck as Magni screamed in agony. Esben then whispered into his ear, "what was that about dying on your feet?" He said as he conjured two daggers and hewed Magni's calves from his legs. "This is only the beginning of your suffering. You will be made an example of as to why you do not disobey the orders of out Dark Lady." He said, sinking his fangs once more into Magni's neck, who had passed out from shock by now.

That was fun, Esben thought as he recalled the raid. That boy's vitae was the best he had tasted in a while. "Maybe I should sample more of the Northfolk", he thought to himself. Esben strolled back into the secluded monastary to oversee Magni's recovery. "How's the boy doing?"
"He's recovered from his wounds just fine, minus his calves. Thanks to your Coagulate technique, he was saved from complete bloodloss. The only major problem is he is still dormant after 3 days." Esben smirked, "Oh don't worry about that; I know just the thing to wake him up." He then removed his left gauntlet to reveal the pulsing, undulating mass of blood; vaguely in the shape of a hand. Esben then manifested a needle on each finger, and drove them under Magni's fingernails. The Boy's eyes shot open, and he prepared to scream; but not before the needles grew hooks, and Esben ripped his fingernails out, along with a few veins. The cry of pain shot through the halls like a banshee as Esben calmly walked out of the room and informed the cultist standing in the main hall, "Prepare the Bull." The cultist bowed, and scurried away. Damn, he thought to himself, I'm hungry again.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Name: Esben Bathory
Alias: The Charnel Lord, Bloodking
Sex: Male
Race: Human, Dhampir
Age: 32 (perceived) 689 (actual)
Religion: Cult of the Charnel Lord
Backstory: Since his childhood, Esben always had a fear of death. Shortly after his birth, his alcoholic father beat his mother to death, and after nearly doing the same to Esben; the town guard came in and killed the drunkard.

Alone and afraid, he was adopted by a drill sergeant, and put into military school as soon as he could hold a sword. This tough upbringing did not sway his fear of mortality, but the sword training and platemail eased his mind somewhat.

Esben was then drafted as a soldier of Astier. Sent to help Aesernia fight in one of the many conflicts with Savaria, He was cornered by a gang of enemy swordsman. Alone, and outnumbered, he eventually fell to them; barely clinging to life as they severed his left arm.

He awoke in a cold sweat on the battlefield, delirious from blood loss and with a strange creature feasting on his arm. He swung his sword for the thing’s neck, and it noticed too late. As its head flew off its shoulders, some of its blood landed in Esben’s mouth, tasting strangely sweet. Still crazed, he started drinking the black ichor from wound he inflicted on the creature, and passed out.

Upon waking, he noticed that the thing he killed was a fledgling vampire, and his arm wound had stopped bleeding. He was turned into a dhampir.

After Esben became accustomed to his new powers, he discovered the the vampire was carrying the Sanguinius Grimoire. He traveled the world, mastering the new found magic, and fighting war after war until he heard of the Krossavik Attack. Assured that the Dragon will have some useful items for his quest, he is off to the north to raise an army.

Motivation: he wants the necromantic tomes the dragon possesses to bask the world in undeath thus eliminating the mortal coil
Magic: Dhampirs have an affinity towards blood magic, since they cannot use conventional magic.
Skills/Strengths: Enhanced speed and strength, Thaumaturgy magus, trained in the bastard sword, round shield and whip, limited dark vision
Weaknesses: Fatigue in the sunlight; along with nearsightedness and losing his speed, strength, and dark vision, lack of normal magic could betray his dhampiric nature, practically useless with ranged weapons
Gear: leather boots, longcoat, hooded cape bandages, Sanguinus Grimore, full steel platemail, chainmail undershirt, leather backpack, glass bottles, poison
Other: Esben can consume blood instead of food, although he prefers vitae. Because he is a dhampir, Esben ceased to age when he turned 32; but he is by no means invincible. Also, because his entire left arm is made of blood under his control, his manipulation of his left hand is immaculate; being able to morph it into certain shapes or small objects

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Name: Esben Bathory
Sex: Male
Race: Human, Dhampir
Age: 32 (perceived) 689 (actual)
Religion: Worship of the old gods, Lilith particularly
Backstory: Since his childhood, Esben always had a fear of death. Shortly after his birth, his alcoholic father beat his mother to death, and after nearly doing the same to Esben; the town guard came in and killed the drunkard.

Alone and afraid, he was adopted by a drill sergeant, and put into military school as soon as he could hold a sword. This tough upbringing did not sway his fear of mortality, but the sword training and platemail eased his mind somewhat.

Esben was then drafted as a soldier of Astier. Sent to help Aesernia fight in one of the many conflicts with Savaria, He was cornered by a gang of enemy swordsman. Alone, and outnumbered, he eventually fell to them; barely clinging to life as they severed his left arm.

After he awoke, he noticed he was carried to a cave by a hooded woman. She promised she could mend his wounds and grant him immortality, as long as he became her obedient servant; of which terms he eagerly agreed. The lady then removed her hood, revealing she was in fact Lilith. Esben was then transformed into the first dhampir, and he was tasked with sowing the seeds of Lilithite cults all around the world.

After Esben became accustomed to his new powers (and arm), he discovered the Sanguinius Grimoire. He traveled the world, mastering the new found magic, and fighting war after war until he heard of the Krossavik Attack. Assured that the Dragon will have some useful items for Lilith, he is off to the north to raise an army.

Motivation: he wants the necromantic tomes the dragon possesses to resurrect the old gods.
Magic: Dhampirs have an affinity towards blood magic, since they cannot use conventional magic. Because of his own studies, and the dark ways of blood magic, Esben is a Necromancy Master
Skills/Strengths: Enhanced speed and strength, Thaumaturgy magus, trained in the bastard sword, round shield and whip, limited dark vision
Weaknesses: Fatigue in the sunlight; along with nearsightedness and losing his speed, strength, and dark vision, lack of normal magic could betray his dhampiric nature, practically useless with ranged weapons
Gear: leather boots, longcoat, hooded cape bandages, Sanguinus Grimore, full steel platemail, chainmail undershirt, leather backpack, glass bottles, poison
Other: Esben can consume blood instead of food, although he prefers vitae. Because he is a dhampir, Esben ceased to age when he turned 32; but he is by no means invincible. Also, because his entire left arm is made of blood under his control, his manipulation of his left hand is immaculate

Scourge of the Seas

All was quiet on the Bucephalus as it softly rocked in port. Most of the crew were in their bunks, or at the bar; celebrating after the successful looting of a Spanish galleon. On this breezy summer night in Nassau, everything seemed calm. Even the sea became halcyon, however brief it was.

Adolfus Erikkson hummed to himself as he was cleaning the ship's stash of firearms, the smell of alcohol and grease emanated from his workshop below deck. He stopped to take a swig from his tankard, and finished up his work. Adolfus then noticed most of the ships inhabitants were at the bar, and prepared to follow suit; draining the last of his warm beer and making the long hike to The Old Albatross.

Scourge of the Seas

NAME: Adolfus Tiberius Erikkson

SEX: Male

DATE OF BIRTH: 30/3/1677

PLACE OF BIRTH: Unknown port town, Brandenburg

BACKSTORY: Born Adolfus Spiner, he was raised in a port town in Brandenburg. With a promising life ahead, he excelled in his studies until one night. His Mother worked at a tavern, and when she was walking home, she was killed in a mugging. Adolfus’ Father was understandably distraught, and after living basically only on alcohol for 3 months, he passed away as well. After this, Ady changed his surname, and joined a military engineering university for 4 years. In his time, he developed a reliance on alcohol, and a penchant for lying to get the alcohol; and he met 3 life-long friends. Vilipur the Finn, Harald the Swede, and an englishman named Edward. Together, they quickly blasted through anything the university put in front of them. After graduating, Edward signed on to the navy, and Adolfus joined him. Now he’s in the caribbean, working to make the world a more blown-up place.

APPEARANCE: 6’3” and grizzled pre00.deviantart.net/a637/th/pre/f/20…

MOTIVATION: You don't need to know. Yet.

SKILLS/STRENGTHS: Skilled engineer, blacksmith, and carpenter, Gunpowder junky, gun tinkerer, sharpshooter, knows his way around fistfights due to countless bar brawls

WEAKNESSES: craptastic in a sword fight, massive alcoholic when depressed, machiavellian, obsessive about order, stamina is garbage

NAME OF CAPTAIN: Cpt. Blackett

ROLE ON SHIP: Carpenter, Blacksmith, general handyman. Takes care of the weapons and such.

NAME OF SHIP: Bucephalus

SHIP DESCRIPTION/SPECS: You know already.

Scourge of the Seas

@SantosGabriel77 How much Assassins' Creed you been playing lately mate? Humans can't control the way they fall that much, and rams were never a thing during the age of sail. Not trying to burst your bubble or anything, but I'm just saying you may need to tone down your ship and character to get it accepted.

Scourge of the Seas

NAME: Adolfus Tiberius Erikkson

SEX: Male

DATE OF BIRTH: 30/3/1677

PLACE OF BIRTH: Unknown port town, Brandenburg

BACKSTORY: Born Adolfus Spiner, he was raised in a port town in Brandenburg. With a promising life ahead, he excelled in his studies until one night. His Mother worked at a tavern, and when she was walking home, she was killed in a mugging. Adolfus’ Father was understandably distraught, and after living basically only on alcohol for 3 months, he passed away as well. After this, Ady changed his surname, and joined a military engineering university for 4 years. In his time, he developed a reliance on alcohol, and a penchant for lying to get the alcohol; and he met 3 life-long friends. Vilipur the Finn, Harald the Swede, and an englishman named Edward. Together, they quickly blasted through anything the university put in front of them. After graduating, Edward signed on to the navy, and Adolfus joined him. Now he’s in the caribbean, working to make the world a more blown-up place.

APPEARANCE: 6’3” and grizzled pre00.deviantart.net/a637/th/pre/f/20…

MOTIVATION: You don't need to know. Yet.

SKILLS/STRENGTHS: Skilled engineer, blacksmith, and carpenter, Gunpowder junky, gun tinkerer, sharpshooter, knows his way around fistfights due to countless bar brawls

WEAKNESSES: craptastic in a sword fight, massive alcoholic when depressed, machiavellian, obsessive about order, stamina is garbage

NAME OF CAPTAIN: Cpt. Blackett

ROLE ON SHIP: Carpenter, Blacksmith, general handyman. Takes care of the weapons and such.

NAME OF SHIP: Bucephalus

SHIP DESCRIPTION/SPECS: You know already.

Wanted: Squad of killers to dispose of Chosen One

Name: Finnegan “Ripper” Tiberius
Sex: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Age: 45
Appearance: Eyes: Green
Hair: Silvery-white
Demeanor: quiet, when human.
Height, Human: 6’7”
Height, Wolf: 7’3”
Religion: Hecataath
Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Backstory: North of the Dogiate of Cantazzaro, nestled between The Twilight Crags, there is a great and ferocious warband called The Iron Tide; a mismatched army of Elves, Humans, and 50 werewolves called The Immortals. They raided all along the outskirts of Cantazzaro, pillaging what they could and running before the militia came. But one town was different.

Ostershire.

This is where Finnegan’s mother Eliza lived. She, and the rest of the town, were gathered in the square for a harvest festival; celebrating how bountiful it had been this year. This was the best target for The Iron Tide, so they surrounded the village, and let the Immortals close in. The townsfolk ran for the church, but they were too slow. Entering a bloodrage, the werewolves slaughtered all of them; except Eliza, she managed to avoid her death in town, and a much worse fate.
When Eliza ran from the town, a single werewolf noticed her scent trail off; and he gave chase. She ran, but in the end, he was faster, and she was taken prisoner. You see, every 15 years, all the marauder armies gather in The Twilight crags to allow their Immortals to repopulate. In the valley between 3 mountains, there lies a massive steel cage where the armies keep all their prisoners; the men too weak to fight, and the women that the soldiers captured. At the beginning of the day, all the werewolves rushed into the cage, devouring the men; and raping the women. For 8 hours, the Immortals bred, and the wails from the cages cast a blood-curdling dirge over the steppes.
Then Finnegan was born. Eliza did not survive the birth, after being brutally beaten by the werewolves; So he was raised by One-eyed Jack, the leader of the Iron Tide. Being a hereditary werewolf, Finnegan was trained in unarmed and bastard sword combat, knife throwing, and scent tracking.With the raping of his mother still relatively fresh in his mind, he took out his trauma and anger on raid victims, often leaving them sodomised and psychologically broken. After 17 years of this, he had been honed into the sharpest blade of malice the world had ever seen. With his training done, he murdered Jack; and led the Iron Tide to raid the capital, permanently crippling the Dogiate.
Until one day, he stopped, disappearing from the Tide. Now he works for whoever he chooses, sowing chaos and destruction in their name until he gets bored and moves on, starting the cycle anew.

Motivation: Women, and slaughter

Magic: Lycanthropy. All other magic is for COWARDS

Skills/Strengths: Lockpicking, Knife throwing, able to transform certain body parts to werewolf bits whenever he needs, logical, stitching (flesh or fabric), minor alchemy knowledge, adept smith

Weaknesses: Absolute psychopath, serial rapist, looks down on magic users somewhat, thinks he’s invincible, wrathful, sadistic, reckless

Gear: Leather riding coat, weighted throwing knives(3), steel-toe jackboots, leather fingerless gloves, medium bandages(2), small backpack, waterskin(2), some ye olde beefe jerky, small book of common herbs, 15 gold pieces, stitching needle with tough thread, set of lockpicks, cold iron bastard sword, double-barreled flintlock pistol, steel buckler, 12 oz flask of Arachnae blood

Other: Finnegan will (secretly) designate 2 people in his group that are the highest priority and the lowest priority of staying alive. Where as the highest one has the utmost importance in his eyes (for any reason), he may deem them more valuable than the rest and thus he will go out of his way to make sure they live. The opposite can be said about the lowest, which is usually ranged spellcaster.