Mao Mao

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

B A T M A N

---

_{"Your day of reckoning has arrived."}

---

^{_{♦ B R U C E W A Y N E ♦ B I L L I O N A I R E ♦ G O T H A M C I T Y ♦}}

O R I G I N S:

---

On a rainy summer night, a nine-year-old child's innocence was forever shattered in a dim, dank alleyway. His parents, the richest in all of Gotham, were murdered in what seemed to be a botched robbery. The lone boy was none other than Bruce Wayne, the now sole surviving heir to the vast Wayne fortune. The nearby police station was encircled by reporters and paparazzi when the family butler arrived after extensive questioning by officers, which unsurprisingly went nowhere. Bruce remembered vividly the camera flashes that blinded his every step towards the car from the station. The crowd of newshounds shouted their questions as loudly as humanly possible behind the fence outside his home. Alfred's warm hug. And his sworn vow to avenge them somehow.

Bruce never let himself forget the promise he made that night. Soon, it became an obsession as the years went on. Therapy sessions with the family doctor weren't enough to smother the grief. School and work at an auto repair shop served as distractions for the anger. And when Bruce graduated high school, he sought out answers by visiting places all around the world. It was when he began to figure out his purpose in life, the reason he was spared a bullet on that cold night. Eight years abroad made the urge to return home unbearable, even if his home was in a rough state of affairs—corruption, brutality, and crime were all too common nowadays. So Bruce put all his newfound skills and techniques to use, hoping it would be enough to fill the void in his shallow life.

But the first few nights out still wasn't enough. It wasn't until a large bat crashed through one of the manor windows that Bruce found the missing piece of his raw sense of purpose. This marked a new chapter of his life as he got to work on a costume that resembled a bat, taking several days to complete. His position as CEO of Wayne Enterprises made it possible, along with assistance from Lucius Fox. It was a warm summer night when the crusade against crime began anew from the Batman.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Alfred Pennyworth, a veteran of the Gulf War, had always followed a routine around the manor. He woke up to the alarm set at six in the morning, got dressed in his uniform, and cleaned around the manor—inside and out. And for the most part, the routine remained the same with a few exceptions. Some were quite happy ones, like when Martha's water broke or the unexpected birthday party. But many of them were terrible, like that night on June 26, 2008. It was almost midnight when he answered the phone, knowing beforehand that something horrible had happened to the Waynes. By the time he made it to the police station in Park Row, every reporter in Gotham was eager to grab a scoop on the story of the decade, not caring about the lone victim at all.

Young Bruce looked utterly traumatized in front of the intrusive officers, his coat still stained with his parents' blood. There were only a few times that Alfred had seen that look before, and all of them were from his brief time in Iraq. But there was something entirely different seeing that expression on a child, which made it... gut-wrenching, to say the least. Alfred approached the grieving boy and hugged him, not minding the blood-soaked coat at all. He cautiously removed the coat, not wanting to further upset him, while offering comforting words, "I know I won't be able to understand the pain you're going through, but I will always be here for you, Master Bruce. Always."

That night was the worst one in a long while for Alfred. But what happened tonight... was close.

Alfred turned away from the sink, with a wet, soapy plate in hand, and saw him. A dark, shadowy figure standing tall with his piercing eyes being encased by the darkness on the other side of the kitchen. The silhouette wasn't human but some sort of freakish man-bat standing there menacingly as if he was about to pounce upon him. Alfred dropped the plate and let it shatter on the tile floor, paralyzed with complete fear as he could only let out a gasp. Suddenly, the figure reacted strangely, ripping off the mask to reveal... Master Bruce underneath? The sight was surreal. The boy he used to drive to school every weekday, the teenager who nervously brought his date over, the same man with an inexplicable fear of bats, was now sporting as one.

"Alfred," Bruce called out, a mixture of guilt and curiosity in his voice, "Are you alright?"

How could one answer that after witnessing such a... creature? What answer could convey the feeling of dread he had just endured? Alfred wasn't sure if there was one, but he had to try regardless. He only needed a moment for his nerves to calm down before he could respond. "I'm not... entirely certain, Master Bruce. Your costume is something else, even though Halloween's months away. Why do you have it on now?"

"It's not just a costume, Alfred." Bruce answered straightforwardly.

"Huh?" Alfred tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"It represents what our city has long forgotten: justice."

Alfred frowned, knowing full well what he was referring to now, his fight against the 'filth' in Gotham. Crime families, corrupt officials, would-be thieves, and anyone else engaged in criminal behavior had become fair game. But Bruce had seemingly gotten nowhere with his crusade since his time back home. That was until now, and it was frightening. Alfred was acutely aware that he needed to stop him before it became too late. Yet, he couldn't shake the troubling thought: perhaps it was already too late? Ever since his parent's death, there was always this sense of anger tucked away in the young boy that only ever got unleashed at schoolyard bullies. Alfred thought it would eventually be phased out with counseling from Leslie, but he was so wrong.

Now, this rage of his was going to hurt him, or worse, god forbid. And Alfred was ever so powerless to prevent it from happening. All he could do was be there for his adopted son whenever he needed the support, no matter how much it stung.

"Well, at least you've decided to not wear the gown and wig." Alfred chuckled to himself before deciding to be rather direct with his question. "But I have to ask, sir: Why a bat? You're absolutely terrified of them."

Bruce had a rather wicked smirk on his face. "I am, and that fear will too paralyze criminals."

"I see..." Alfred was suddenly too uncomfortable to probe any further, so his focus shifted to cleaning up the pieces of the broken plate on the floor. "So I assume you're leaving for another night on the town?"

"Of course." Bruce nodded and was about to say something but paused instead. His demeanor shifted so quickly that it was unsettling. "I have to leave very soon."

Alfred stopped what he was doing, realizing this could be their last interaction. Each night that Bruce left for the city filled him with such dread. What if he got the call? He couldn't live with himself if Bruce had gotten hurt or worse... died. It would've haunted him til the sweet release of death if he had to bury another Wayne. He just couldn't bear the thought. So he got up from the floor and tried to grab Bruce, desperate to get his attention, to stop his bloody crusade of pure madness. "Master Bruce, wait a sec-"

But his boy wasn't there anymore. "I'll see you in the morning, Alfred." The monster's softly spoken words left the butler completely utterly speechless as it rushed out of the kitchen. Alfred was alone, overwhelmed by intense fear, followed by a sense of despair from his boy. And he could do nothing about it other than clean up the mess on the floor and pray that the telephone does not ring at all tonight.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used as a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

The Dark Knight

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

B A T M A N

---

_{"Your day of reckoning has arrived."}

---

^{_{♦ B R U C E W A Y N E ♦ B I L L I O N A I R E ♦ G O T H A M C I T Y ♦}}

O R I G I N S:

---

On a rainy summer night, a nine-year-old child's innocence was forever shattered in a dim, dank alleyway. His parents, the richest in all of Gotham, were murdered in what seemed to be a botched robbery. The lone boy was none other than Bruce Wayne, the now sole surviving heir to the vast Wayne fortune. The nearby police station was encircled by reporters and paparazzi when the family butler arrived after extensive questioning by officers, which unsurprisingly went nowhere. Bruce remembered vividly the camera flashes that blinded his every step towards the car from the station. The crowd of newshounds shouted their questions as loudly as humanly possible behind the fence outside his home. Alfred's warm hug. And his sworn vow to avenge them somehow.

Bruce never let himself forget the promise he made that night. Soon, it became an obsession as the years went on. Therapy sessions with the family doctor weren't enough to smother the grief. School and work at an auto repair shop served as distractions for the anger. And when Bruce graduated high school, he sought out answers by visiting places all around the world. It was when he began to figure out his purpose in life, the reason he was spared a bullet on that cold night. Eight years abroad made the urge to return home unbearable, even if his home was in a rough state of affairs—corruption, brutality, and crime were all too common nowadays. So Bruce put all his newfound skills and techniques to use, hoping it would be enough to fill the void in his shallow life.

But the first few nights out still wasn't enough. It wasn't until a large bat crashed through one of the manor windows that Bruce found the missing piece of his raw sense of purpose. This marked a new chapter of his life as he got to work on a costume that resembled a bat, taking several days to complete. His position as CEO of Wayne Enterprises made it possible, along with assistance from Lucius Fox. It was a warm summer night when the crusade against crime began anew from the Batman.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Alfred Pennyworth, a veteran of the Gulf War, had always followed a routine around the manor. He woke up to the alarm set at six in the morning, got dressed in his uniform, and cleaned around the manor—inside and out. And for the most part, the routine remained the same with a few exceptions. Some were quite happy ones, like when Martha's water broke or the unexpected birthday party. But many of them were terrible, like that night on June 26, 2008. It was almost midnight when he answered the phone, knowing beforehand that something horrible had happened to the Waynes. By the time he made it to the police station in Park Row, every reporter in Gotham was eager to grab a scoop on the story of the decade, not caring about the lone victim at all.

Young Bruce looked utterly traumatized in front of the intrusive officers, his coat still stained with his parents' blood. There were only a few times that Alfred had seen that look before, and all of them were from his brief time in Iraq. But there was something entirely different seeing that expression on a child, which made it... gut-wrenching, to say the least. Alfred approached the grieving boy and hugged him, not minding the blood-soaked coat at all. He cautiously removed the coat, not wanting to further upset him, while offering comforting words, "I know I won't be able to understand the pain you're going through, but I will always be here for you, Master Bruce. Always."

That night was the worst one in a long while for Alfred. But what happened tonight... was close.

Alfred turned away from the sink, with a wet, soapy plate in hand, and saw him. A dark, shadowy figure standing tall with his piercing eyes being encased by the darkness on the other side of the kitchen. The silhouette wasn't human but some sort of freakish man-bat standing there menacingly as if he was about to pounce upon him. Alfred dropped the plate and let it shatter on the tile floor, paralyzed with complete fear as he could only let out a gasp. Suddenly, the figure reacted strangely, ripping off the mask to reveal... Master Bruce underneath? The sight was surreal. The boy he used to drive to school every weekday, the teenager who nervously brought his date over, the same man with an inexplicable fear of bats, was now sporting as one.

"Alfred," Bruce called out, a mixture of guilt and curiosity in his voice, "Are you alright?"

How could one answer that after witnessing such a... creature? What answer could convey the feeling of dread he had just endured? Alfred wasn't sure if there was one, but he had to try regardless. He only needed a moment for his nerves to calm down before he could respond. "I'm not... entirely certain, Master Bruce. Your costume is something else, even though Halloween's months away. Why do you have it on now?"

"It's not just a costume, Alfred." Bruce answered straightforwardly.

"Huh?" Alfred tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"It represents what our city has long forgotten: justice."

Alfred frowned, knowing full well what he was referring to now, his fight against the 'filth' in Gotham. Crime families, corrupt officials, would-be thieves, and anyone else engaged in criminal behavior had become fair game. But Bruce had seemingly gotten nowhere with his crusade since his time back home. That was until now, and it was frightening. Alfred was acutely aware that he needed to stop him before it became too late. Yet, he couldn't shake the troubling thought: perhaps it was already too late? Ever since his parent's death, there was always this sense of anger tucked away in the young boy that only ever got unleashed at schoolyard bullies. Alfred thought it would eventually be phased out with counseling from Leslie, but he was so wrong.

Now, this rage of his was going to hurt him, or worse, god forbid. And Alfred was ever so powerless to prevent it from happening. All he could do was be there for his adopted son whenever he needed the support, no matter how much it stung.

"Well, at least you've decided to not wear the gown and wig." Alfred chuckled to himself before deciding to be rather direct with his question. "But I have to ask, sir: Why a bat? You're absolutely terrified of them."

Bruce had a rather wicked smirk on his face. "I am, and that fear will too paralyze criminals."

"I see..." Alfred was suddenly too uncomfortable to probe any further, so his focus shifted to cleaning up the pieces of the broken plate on the floor. "So I assume you're leaving for another night on the town?"

"Of course." Bruce nodded and was about to say something but paused instead. His demeanor shifted so quickly that it was unsettling. "I have to leave very soon."

Alfred stopped what he was doing, realizing this could be their last interaction. Each night that Bruce left for the city filled him with such dread. What if he got the call? He couldn't live with himself if Bruce had gotten hurt or worse... died. It would've haunted him til the sweet release of death if he had to bury another Wayne. He just couldn't bear the thought. So he got up from the floor and tried to grab Bruce, desperate to get his attention, to stop his bloody crusade of pure madness. "Master Bruce, wait a sec-"

But his boy wasn't there anymore. "I'll see you in the morning, Alfred." The monster's softly spoken words left the butler completely utterly speechless as it rushed out of the kitchen. Alfred was alone, overwhelmed by intense fear, followed by a sense of despair from his boy. And he could do nothing about it other than clean up the mess on the floor and pray that the telephone does not ring at all tonight.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used as a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

Marvel & DC: Emergence (Canon RP)

The Dark Knight

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

B A T M A N

---

_{"Your day of reckoning has arrived."}

---

^{_{♦ B R U C E W A Y N E ♦ B I L L I O N A I R E ♦ G O T H A M C I T Y ♦}}

O R I G I N S:

---

On a rainy summer night, a nine-year-old child's innocence was forever shattered in a dim, dank alleyway. His parents, the richest in all of Gotham, were murdered in what seemed to be a botched robbery. The lone boy was none other than Bruce Wayne, the now sole surviving heir to the vast Wayne fortune. The nearby police station was encircled by reporters and paparazzi when the family butler arrived after extensive questioning by officers, which unsurprisingly went nowhere. Bruce remembered vividly the camera flashes that blinded his every step towards the car from the station. The crowd of newshounds shouting their questions as loudly as humanly possible behind the fence outside his home. Alfred's warm hug. And his sworn vow to avenge them somehow.

Bruce never let himself forget the promise he made that night. Soon, it became an obsession. Therapy sessions with the family doctor weren't enough to smother the grief. School and work at an auto repair shop served as distractions for the anger. And when Bruce graduated high school, he sought out answers by visiting places all around the world. It was when he began to figure out his purpose, the very reason he was spared a bullet on that cold night. Eight years abroad made the urge to return home unbearable, even if his home was in a rough state of affairs—corruption, neglect, brutality, and crime were all too common occurrences. So Bruce put all his newfound skills and techniques to use as a vigilante, hoping it would be enough to fill the void in his shallow life.

But the first few nights out still wasn't enough. It wasn't until a large bat crashed through one of the manor windows that Bruce found the missing piece of his raw sense of purpose. This marked a new chapter of his life as he got to work on a costume that resembled a bat, taking several days to complete. His position as CEO of Wayne Enterprises, the last remnants of his family's legacy, made it possible, along with assistance from a close family friend, COO Lucius Fox. While Alfred and Leslie were unsuccessful in convincing their adopted son to move on from the vow that a scared little boy made. It was a warm summer night when the crusade against crime began anew from the Batman.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Give an example of how you would write your chosen character. Try to focus on simple actions and a sampling of dialogue.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

Mao Mao's Rambling Concepts

The Dark Knight

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

B A T M A N

---

_{"Your day of reckoning has arrived."}

---

^{_{♦ B R U C E W A Y N E ♦ B I L L I O N A I R E ♦ G O T H A M C I T Y ♦}}

O R I G I N S:

---

On a rainy summer night, a nine-year-old child's innocence was forever shattered in a dim, dank alleyway. His parents, the richest in all of Gotham, were murdered in what seemed to be a botched robbery. The lone boy was none other than Bruce Wayne, the now sole surviving heir to the vast Wayne fortune. The nearby police station was encircled by reporters and paparazzi when the family butler arrived after extensive questioning by officers, which unsurprisingly went nowhere. Bruce remembered vividly the camera flashes that blinded his every step towards the car from the station. The crowd of newshounds shouted their questions as loudly as humanly possible behind the fence outside his home. Alfred's warm hug. And his sworn vow to avenge them somehow.

Bruce never let himself forget the promise he made that night. Soon, it became an obsession as the years went on. Therapy sessions with the family doctor weren't enough to smother the grief. School and work at an auto repair shop served as distractions for the anger. And when Bruce graduated high school, he sought out answers by visiting places all around the world. It was when he began to figure out his purpose in life, the reason he was spared a bullet on that cold night. Eight years abroad made the urge to return home unbearable, even if his home was in a rough state of affairs—corruption, brutality, and crime were all too common nowadays. So Bruce put all his newfound skills and techniques to use, hoping it would be enough to fill the void in his shallow life.

But the first few nights out still wasn't enough. It wasn't until a large bat crashed through one of the manor windows that Bruce found the missing piece of his raw sense of purpose. This marked a new chapter of his life as he got to work on a costume that resembled a bat, taking several days to complete. His position as CEO of Wayne Enterprises made it possible, along with assistance from Lucius Fox. It was a warm summer night when the crusade against crime began anew from the Batman.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Alfred Pennyworth, a veteran of the Gulf War, had always followed a routine around the manor. He woke up to the alarm set at six in the morning, got dressed in his uniform, and cleaned around the manor—inside and out. And for the most part, the routine remained the same with a few exceptions. Some were quite happy ones, like when Martha's water broke or the unexpected birthday party. But many of them were terrible, like that night on June 26, 2008. It was almost midnight when he answered the phone, knowing beforehand that something horrible had happened to the Waynes. By the time he made it to the police station in Park Row, every reporter in Gotham was eager to grab a scoop on the story of the decade, not caring about the lone victim at all.

Young Bruce looked utterly traumatized in front of the intrusive officers, his coat still stained with his parents' blood. There were only a few times that Alfred had seen that look before, and all of them were from his brief time in Iraq. But there was something entirely different seeing that expression on a child, which made it... gut-wrenching, to say the least. Alfred approached the grieving boy and hugged him, not minding the blood-soaked coat at all. He cautiously removed the coat, not wanting to further upset him, while offering comforting words, "I know I won't be able to understand the pain you're going through, but I will always be here for you, Master Bruce. Always."

That night was the worst one in a long while for Alfred. But what happened tonight... was close.

Alfred turned away from the sink, with a wet, soapy plate in hand, and saw him. A dark, shadowy figure standing tall with his piercing eyes being encased by the darkness on the other side of the kitchen. The silhouette wasn't human but some sort of freakish man-bat standing there menacingly as if he was about to pounce upon him. Alfred dropped the plate and let it shatter on the tile floor, paralyzed with complete fear as he could only let out a gasp. Suddenly, the figure reacted strangely, ripping off the mask to reveal... Master Bruce underneath? The sight was surreal. The boy he used to drive to school every weekday, the teenager who nervously brought his date over, the same man with an inexplicable fear of bats, was now sporting as one.

"Alfred," Bruce called out, a mixture of guilt and curiosity in his voice, "Are you alright?"

How could one answer that after witnessing such a... creature? What answer could convey the feeling of dread he had just endured? Alfred wasn't sure if there was one, but he had to try regardless. He only needed a moment for his nerves to calm down before he could respond. "I'm not... entirely certain, Master Bruce. Your costume is something else, even though Halloween's months away. Why do you have it on now?"

"It's not just a costume, Alfred." Bruce answered straightforwardly.

"Huh?" Alfred tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"It represents what our city has long forgotten: justice."

Alfred frowned, knowing full well what he was referring to now, his fight against the 'filth' in Gotham. Crime families, corrupt officials, would-be thieves, and anyone else engaged in criminal behavior had become fair game. But Bruce had seemingly gotten nowhere with his crusade since his time back home. That was until now, and it was frightening. Alfred was acutely aware that he needed to stop him before it became too late. Yet, he couldn't shake the troubling thought: perhaps it was already too late? Ever since his parent's death, there was always this sense of anger tucked away in the young boy that only ever got unleashed at schoolyard bullies. Alfred thought it would eventually be phased out with counseling from Leslie, but he was so wrong.

Now, this rage of his was going to hurt him, or worse, god forbid. And Alfred was ever so powerless to prevent it from happening. All he could do was be there for his adopted son whenever he needed the support, no matter how much it stung.

"Well, at least you've decided to not wear the gown and wig." Alfred chuckled to himself before deciding to be rather direct with his question. "But I have to ask, sir: Why a bat? You're absolutely terrified of them."

Bruce had a rather wicked smirk on his face. "I am, and that fear will too paralyze criminals."

"I see..." Alfred was suddenly too uncomfortable to probe any further, so his focus shifted to cleaning up the pieces of the broken plate on the floor. "So I assume you're leaving for another night on the town?"

"Of course." Bruce nodded and was about to say something but paused instead. His demeanor shifted so quickly that it was unsettling. "I have to leave very soon."

Alfred stopped what he was doing, realizing this could be their last interaction. Each night that Bruce left for the city filled him with such dread. What if he got the call? He couldn't live with himself if Bruce had gotten hurt or worse... died. It would've haunted him til the sweet release of death if he had to bury another Wayne. He just couldn't bear the thought. So he got up from the floor and tried to grab Bruce, desperate to get his attention, to stop his bloody crusade of pure madness. "Master Bruce, wait a sec-"

But his boy wasn't there anymore. "I'll see you in the morning, Alfred." The monster's softly spoken words left the butler completely utterly speechless as it rushed out of the kitchen. Alfred was alone, overwhelmed by intense fear, followed by a sense of despair from his boy. And he could do nothing about it other than clean up the mess on the floor and pray that the telephone does not ring at all tonight.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used as a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

Marvel & DC: Emergence (Canon RP)

You know what, I'm gonna be a madman and apply for Batman.

Marvel & DC: Emergence (Canon RP)

So, I assume that my chances of finally writing the TMNT are still low?

Dragon Age: Grey Dawn

Nicholaus Lemaître

Nicholaus Lemaître

| {Full Name} |

Nicholaus Lemaître

| {Age} |

43

| {Species} |

Human

| {Gender} |

Non-binary

| {Class/subclass} |

Knight-Enchanter Mage

---

| {Appearance} |

Standing 6' 2" tall, Nicholaus stands alongside others rather with a sense of pride from being an olive-skinned Orlesian. His long, wavy, dark brown hair is complicatedly styled, often in different hairstyles depending on the occasion. While his impressively long, trimmed mustache isn't too touched upon with wax and other products. And often wearing battlemage armor formally from the Orlesian Army, modified to appear similar to armor worn by Inquisition forces. Out of combat, Nicholaus wears casual clothing made originally by manufacturers from Val Royeaux, either brought or gifted to him.

Nicholaus has trimmed eyebrows and dark brown wide eyes with measured, wearing round glasses for reading. His pointed chin, long face, and full lips are defining features in addition to his wide hips. His short torso lacks any chest muscle tone while maintaining his weight to a certain degree.

| {Equipment and Personal Belongings} |

Enchanter Staff
Battlemage Armor

| {Skills} |

Advisor of the Magi - Having been nothing more than a plain old advisor to those illiterate in magic, Nicholaus flourished throughout the years learning much about the practices.

Survivor of The Game - Growing up amongst the nobility of Orlais, it's almost expected that one has a deep understanding and appreciation of The Grand Game. Nicholaus often found himself in the middle of such challenges quite often.

Knowledge Curator - Given there wasn't much a mage could do while stuck in a tower, Nicholaus took to reading history scrolls and books to relieve the boredom.

| {Talents} |

Spear Handling - Despite being a mage, a Knight-Enchanter was expected to engage in melee combat. Nicholaus chose to treat his stave like a spear, unlike a sword, to maintain as much distance as possible.

Nomad - Given his job required constant travel, Nicholaus quickly adjusted to temporary living, always ready to move to different locations without much difficulty.

| {Spells} |

Winter's Grasp
Spirit Blade
Combat Clarity
Fade Shield

| {Home/Family} |

Montsimmard Circle Tower, Orlais.

| {Flaws and limits} |

Calculated Bastard - In order for one to survive the Game, Nicholaus had to be one step ahead of his enemies. That meant doing whatever it took even if it brought forth death to those that crossed him. And even after leaving that life behind him, old habits were still around and often reared its ugly head regardless of the circumstances.

Aging Body - Nicholaus was not getting any younger, and it was beginning to show when his eyes started to get weaker. So far though, he was in decent enough condition to continue fighting for the Wardens.

---

| {Personality} |

Being from the countryside originally was something engraved into Nicholaus, even as he was sent away to the tower at the unusual age of five. His intense desire for a family was quickly used against him in The Game, where compassion could easily be discarded without remorse. It was something that was quite difficult to let go especially when he got more familiar with the dance. But it could never be crushed. His mask was a deliberate one, in which his clients assumed him to be a calculated, distant mage. Someone who wanted to break free of his confines in the tower and be amongst the nobility. And even though his freedom came with his work, taking off the mask in front of anyone was impossible.

And he paid accordingly when he did let the mask down ever so slightly. Nicholaus relied on his training as a Knight-Enchanter to push through the mental pains alongside his work as an advisor. Combat also provided thrills and the adrenaline rush to his otherwise dull life, though he did not enjoy taking away life from any life form. His mask was now a tightly held safeguard designed to never be let down even at the slightest inconvenience in front of him. But with his time in the Inquisition and the Grey Warden, the mask began to show cracks (age also played a major factor). Nicholaus was facing a dilemma that couldn't be solved with clever tactics or a simple spell trick, and that left him baffled for the first time in decades.

| {Background} |

For much of their early adulthood, Nicholaus Lemaître served as a traveling arcane advisor to noble families across Orlais. They often remained beside their patrons for a few weeks to months, depending on the severity of the commission. But given the usefulness of a knight-enchanter, they mainly dealt with protective roles or the occasional wildlife hunter. It was well-paid and respectable enough to keep the Orlesian Chantry and its Circle of Magi off of their back. That was until the War of the Lions brought forth chaos to the homeland, forcing Nicholaus to get involved.

The Knight-Enchanter was cautious to not align with the crown nor the rebels, an attempt to play both sides of the conflict. It was at this point in Nicholaus' life that the Game was truly dangerous. Lies and deceit were common tactical decisions made to protect their bottom line, which was an occurrent feat to achieve on a daily basis. And after a year of keeping up with the charade grew ever tired of the civil war and the inconvenience it brought forth to the lands. So when news came of the Inquisition and their efforts to secure a truce, it was an opportunity of a lifetime for Nicholaus, a talented mage capable, to offer their services to the cause.

The Breach was more of a threat to the whole world than the Orlesian noble ever could have realized. Nicholaus was part of the platoon that attacked Corypheus and his forces of Red Templars. Not long after it was sealed, and with the world seemingly saved, Orlais soon descended into a new kind of war from the shadows where The Game was ever so essential to one's survival. In the hopes of finding a new sense of normalcy, Nicholaus chose to remain in the Inquisition until it was publicly disbanded by the Exalted Council. So, with no desire to resume their previous occupation, they sought out purpose in the Grey Wardens alongside their fellow comrades.

Nicholaus survived the Joining and quickly adapted to life, having been transferred over to Wheisshaupt to assist the mage teachers with their lessons.

Repairing the World - A Solarpunk Nation RP

International Refugee Coalition

International Refugee Coalition (IRC)

Location: Current whereabouts pinpoint the main fleet somewhere within the North Atlantic. Smaller fleets are located in the Pacific and Arctic Oceans and the Mediterranean Sea.

History: The world's forgotten victims of the ever-growing threat of climate change were always forced to rebuild on their own. But the idea of branding together truly never stuck on until the beginning of the 2030s. The subtle collapse of the global market, along with the changing climate, led to millions being displaced from their home country. Approximately one billion were climate refugees and lacked the proper representation on the international stage. So, in 2032, the International Refugee Coalition was founded and began assisting refugees who accepted their services without fear of going into debt.

Shortly after the foundation, the IRC began buying off decommissioned ships from various countries that tried to maintain their economies. Container ships, cruise ships, fishing vessels, and tender vessels were common purchases made with the banking accounts of refugees (the ones who willingly volunteered). But they weren't the only types of ships brought. A year later, the decommissioned USS Freedom and HMS Severn became the first naval ships under IRC ownership. And then, they made their biggest purchase with the INS Rajput for four billion US dollars. But then came the Space Wars.

Although far from the continents (where nuclear hellfire was unleashed), the fleet was still left vulnerable once the satellite infrastructure collapsed. In a matter of weeks, things that ships once relied upon were forever lost, reverting back to 18th-century techniques as a means of survival in this brave new world. Millions sought out the IRC in the midst of total collapse, which soon strained the already limited resources. So, the Universal Council for the Displaced (UCD) voted unanimously to cut communications with the outside world and limit their presence to the Arctic Ocean. Their last communication was in 2040 before vanishing seemingly from the face of the Earth.

But in secret, they collaborated with remnants of the United Nations to gather and perverse human knowledge and culture, becoming unofficial conservators of human history. Shortly after losing contact with the UN, they secured and raided the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. Then, cut all forms of communication with the remaining world governments. The IRC remained hidden and isolated, with occasional visits to the mainland for refuel and resupply. However, a rapid change in leadership recently forced a unanimous vote to re-engage with the outside at the beginning of the 2100s.

Culture and beliefs: Life onboard ships was always going to have its challenges, especially in the wake of societal collapse. Ration cards for food and medicine were implemented to maintain the survival of its crew and passengers. While knowledge of ship maintenance and repair was a mandatory learning course for everybody, not just exclusive to the crew. A captain was responsible for the everyday affairs onboard their ship while communicating with the various departments, managing all personnel inventory, and being a representative of the Universal Council for the Displaced (UCD).

Much of the old understanding of seafaring, along with its professions and ranks, survived and was modified to better suit survival. Access to remaining human knowledge and culture allowed for a better understanding of the old world and its numerous issues than arguably any other in the world. That left some to speculate that the International Refugee Coalition was one of the few direct descendants of old-world governance, while the council was more than willing to remain silent on the matter.

Science and technology: The IRC relied heavily upon preserving old marine technology to actively survive in the open seas while adapting gardening and solar power.

Character names: Spokesperson Noémie Mahieu

Dragon Age: Grey Dawn

Nicholaus Lemaître

Nicholaus Lemaître

| {Full Name} |

Nicholaus Lemaître

| {Age} |

43

| {Species} |

Human

| {Gender} |

Non-binary

| {Class/subclass} |

Knight-Enchanter Mage

---

| {Appearance} |

Standing 6' 2" tall, Nicholaus stands alongside others rather with a sense of pride from being an olive-skinned Orlesian. His long, wavy, dark brown hair is complicatedly styled, often in different hairstyles depending on the occasion. While his impressively long, trimmed mustache isn't too touched upon with wax and other products. And often wearing battlemage armor formally from the Orlesian Army, modified to appear similar to armor worn by Inquisition forces. Out of combat, Nicholaus wears casual clothing made originally by manufacturers from Val Royeaux, either brought or gifted to him.

Nicholaus has trimmed eyebrows and dark brown wide eyes with measured, wearing round glasses for reading. His pointed chin, long face, and full lips are defining features in addition to his wide hips. His short torso lacks any chest muscle tone while maintaining his weight to a certain degree.

| {Equipment and Personal Belongings} |

Enchanter Staff
Battlemage Armor

| {Skills} |

Advisor of the Magi - Having been nothing more than a plain old advisor to those illiterate in magic, Nicholaus flourished throughout the years learning much about the practices.

Survivor of The Game - Growing up amongst the nobility of Orlais, it's almost expected that one has a deep understanding and appreciation of The Grand Game. Nicholaus often found himself in the middle of such challenges quite often.

Knowledge Curator - Given there wasn't much a mage could do while stuck in a tower, Nicholaus took to reading history scrolls and books to relieve the boredom.

| {Talents} |

Spear Handling - Despite being a mage, a Knight-Enchanter was expected to engage in melee combat. Nicholaus chose to treat his stave like a spear, unlike a sword, to maintain as much distance as possible.

Nomad - Given his job required constant travel, Nicholaus quickly adjusted to temporary living, always ready to move to different locations without much difficulty.

| {Spells} |

Winter's Grasp
Spirit Blade
Combat Clarity
Fade Shield

| {Home/Family} |

Montsimmard Circle Tower, Orlais.

| {Flaws and limits} |

Calculated Bastard - In order for one to survive the Game, Nicholaus had to be one step ahead of his enemies. That meant doing whatever it took even if it brought forth death to those that crossed him. And even after leaving that life behind him, old habits were still around and often reared its ugly head regardless of the circumstances.

Aging Body - Nicholaus was not getting any younger, and it was beginning to show when his eyes started to get weaker. So far though, he was in decent enough condition to continue fighting for the Wardens.

---

| {Personality} |

Being from the countryside originally was something engraved into Nicholaus, even as he was sent away to the tower at the unusual age of five. His intense desire for a family was quickly used against him in The Game, where compassion could easily be discarded without remorse. It was something that was quite difficult to let go especially when he got more familiar with the dance. But it could never be crushed. His mask was a deliberate one, in which his clients assumed him to be a calculated, distant mage. Someone who wanted to break free of his confines in the tower and be amongst the nobility. And even though his freedom came with his work, taking off the mask in front of anyone was impossible.

And he paid accordingly when he did let the mask down ever so slightly. Nicholaus relied on his training as a Knight-Enchanter to push through the mental pains alongside his work as an advisor. Combat also provided thrills and the adrenaline rush to his otherwise dull life, though he did not enjoy taking away life from any life form. His mask was now a tightly held safeguard designed to never be let down even at the slightest inconvenience in front of him. But with his time in the Inquisition and the Grey Warden, the mask began to show cracks (age also played a major factor). Nicholaus was facing a dilemma that couldn't be solved with clever tactics or a simple spell trick, and that left him baffled for the first time in decades.

| {Background} |

For much of their early adulthood, Nicholaus Lemaître served as a traveling arcane advisor to noble families across Orlais. They often remained beside their patrons for a few weeks to months, depending on the severity of the commission. But given the usefulness of a knight-enchanter, they mainly dealt with protective roles or the occasional wildlife hunter. It was well-paid and respectable enough to keep the Orlesian Chantry and its Circle of Magi off of their back. That was until the War of the Lions brought forth chaos to the homeland, forcing Nicholaus to get involved.

The Knight-Enchanter was cautious to not align with the crown nor the rebels, an attempt to play both sides of the conflict. It was at this point in Nicholaus' life that the Game was truly dangerous. Lies and deceit were common tactical decisions made to protect their bottom line, which was an occurrent feat to achieve on a daily basis. And after a year of keeping up with the charade grew ever tired of the civil war and the inconvenience it brought forth to the lands. So when news came of the Inquisition and their efforts to secure a truce, it was an opportunity of a lifetime for Nicholaus, a talented mage capable, to offer their services to the cause.

The Breach was more of a threat to the whole world than the Orlesian noble ever could have realized. Nicholaus was part of the platoon that attacked Corypheus and his forces of Red Templars. Not long after it was sealed, and with the world seemingly saved, Orlais soon descended into a new kind of war from the shadows where The Game was ever so essential to one's survival. In the hopes of finding a new sense of normalcy, Nicholaus chose to remain in the Inquisition until it was publicly disbanded by the Exalted Council. So, with no desire to resume their previous occupation, they sought out purpose in the Grey Wardens alongside their fellow comrades.

Nicholaus survived the Joining and quickly adapted to life, having been transferred over to Wheisshaupt to assist the mage teachers with their lessons.

Mao Mao's Rambling Concepts

International Refugee Coalition (IRC)

Location: Current whereabouts pinpoint the main fleet somewhere within the North Atlantic. Smaller fleets are located in the Pacific and Arctic Oceans and the Mediterranean Sea.

History: The world's forgotten victims of the ever-growing threat of climate change were always forced to rebuild on their own. But the idea of branding together truly never stuck on until the beginning of the 2030s. The subtle collapse of the global market, along with the changing climate, led to millions being displaced from their home country. Approximately one billion were climate refugees and lacked the proper representation on the international stage. So, in 2032, the International Refugee Coalition was founded and began assisting refugees who accepted their services without fear of going into debt.

Shortly after the foundation, the IRC began buying off decommissioned ships from various countries that tried to maintain their economies. Container ships, cruise ships, fishing vessels, and tender vessels were common purchases made with the banking accounts of refugees (the ones who willingly volunteered). But they weren't the only types of ships brought. A year later, the decommissioned USS Freedom and HMS Severn became the first naval ships under IRC ownership. And then, they made their biggest purchase with the INS Rajput for four billion US dollars. But then came the Space Wars.

Although far from the continents (where nuclear hellfire was unleashed), the fleet was still left vulnerable once the satellite infrastructure collapsed. In a matter of weeks, things that ships once relied upon were forever lost, reverting back to 18th-century techniques as a means of survival in this brave new world. Millions sought out the IRC in the midst of total collapse, which soon strained the already limited resources. So, the Universal Council for the Displaced (UCD) voted unanimously to cut communications with the outside world and limit their presence to the Arctic Ocean. Their last communication was in 2040 before vanishing seemingly from the face of the Earth.

But in secret, they collaborated with remnants of the United Nations to gather and perverse human knowledge and culture, becoming unofficial conservators of human history. Shortly after losing contact with the UN, they secured and raided the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. Then, cut all forms of communication with the remaining world governments. The IRC remained hidden and isolated, with occasional visits to the mainland for refuel and resupply. However, a rapid change in leadership recently forced a unanimous vote to re-engage with the outside at the beginning of the 2100s.

Culture and beliefs: Life onboard ships was always going to have its challenges, especially in the wake of societal collapse. Ration cards for food and medicine were implemented to maintain the survival of its crew and passengers. While knowledge of ship maintenance and repair was a mandatory learning course for everybody, not just exclusive to the crew. A captain was responsible for the everyday affairs onboard their ship while communicating with the various departments, managing all personnel inventory, and being a representative of the Universal Council for the Displaced (UCD).

Much of the old understanding of seafaring, along with its professions and ranks, survived and was modified to better suit survival. Access to remaining human knowledge and culture allowed for a better understanding of the old world and its numerous issues than arguably any other in the world. That left some to speculate that the International Refugee Coalition was one of the few direct descendants of old-world governance, while the council was more than willing to remain silent on the matter.

Science and technology: The IRC relied heavily upon preserving old marine technology to actively survive in the open seas while adapting gardening and solar power.

Character names: Spokesperson Noémie Mahieu