...just reakized I'm looking the map all wrong ^^;; editing my post a bit.
Marcus XVI Member
STATUS: Just because you can have 36 attacks per turn that threaten a crit on a roll of 14+ doesn't mean it's worth doing. 6 yrs ago
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- Old Guild Username: Marcus XVI
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- Marcus XVI 11 yrs ago
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Just because you can have 36 attacks per turn that threaten a crit on a roll of 14+ doesn't mean it's worth doing.
8 yrs ago
Purple, because aliens wear red hats.
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10 yrs ago
Isn't it weird how you can start a private conversation with yourself?
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Ramius Kastagir, Iron Forest, some miles South-West of Campus Magnus.
There was both danger and chance for glory in being so close to an enemy encampment. Despite the inherent danger of Campus Magnus' close proximity The White Raven was not concerned. There were fresh corpses laying on the feet of the revenant and his forces - corpses of a small parol which had not been expecting an attack so close to their own lines no doubt. The skeletal fingers of Ramius' right hand tightened around the pole atop of which hung a tattered banner depicting a white raven. He stood silently, maybe plotting, maybe reminiscing as he stared towards Campus Magnus.
"Sir... Kastagir..." One of the lesser revenants - from a group of dozen - spoke with a raspy, hushed tone. "Perhaps we should ...retreat?" The single burning eye of the White Raven turned towards the lesser being. "A sound plan for now. Traitors, form up!" The twelve lesser revenants formed up around their leader, as did the shambling lesser undead who had heard the revenant's dread call.
Without another word the group - numbering perhaps a hundred at most - began heading deeper to the forest.
There was both danger and chance for glory in being so close to an enemy encampment. Despite the inherent danger of Campus Magnus' close proximity The White Raven was not concerned. There were fresh corpses laying on the feet of the revenant and his forces - corpses of a small parol which had not been expecting an attack so close to their own lines no doubt. The skeletal fingers of Ramius' right hand tightened around the pole atop of which hung a tattered banner depicting a white raven. He stood silently, maybe plotting, maybe reminiscing as he stared towards Campus Magnus.
"Sir... Kastagir..." One of the lesser revenants - from a group of dozen - spoke with a raspy, hushed tone. "Perhaps we should ...retreat?" The single burning eye of the White Raven turned towards the lesser being. "A sound plan for now. Traitors, form up!" The twelve lesser revenants formed up around their leader, as did the shambling lesser undead who had heard the revenant's dread call.
Without another word the group - numbering perhaps a hundred at most - began heading deeper to the forest.
Ramia's eyes had some difficulty adjusting to the light. For a moment she tensed noticeably, but calmed a bit when Belle spoke. "I've travelled damn enough far to be damn soaking. I can't see a damn thing in here and there's a damn hole in my boot." She grumbled while stepping inside. "I'm not gonna refuse an offer of shelter - even though I can't see who's offering it."
Ramia saw bright light eminating from the castle. For her sharp vision the light became so bright that she actually had to partially cover her eyes. Still she did not stop walking - even a weird castle with bright lights was a better option in comparison to catching a cold or being eaten by predators of some kind. Though she did not stop walking the black haired swordswoman carefully took out one of her seathed swords and hung it on her right hip.
The rain that had bothered her only slightly had gotten her dripping wet by now - a fact that began to really annoy Ramia. When she finally reached the still open doors she paused for a moment to knock on the doorframe. Ramia was still covering her eyes due to the bright light.
The rain that had bothered her only slightly had gotten her dripping wet by now - a fact that began to really annoy Ramia. When she finally reached the still open doors she paused for a moment to knock on the doorframe. Ramia was still covering her eyes due to the bright light.
It was cold and wet - and getting dark to boot. Ramia had managed to literally get lost in the woods - a fact that made her more than slightly annoyed. Still she managed to for now keep her cool while trudging along a path. Soon her keen eyes caught something in the distance - a castle! Admittedly she had not been informed of any sort of a castle nearby. With a little grimace the black haired woman adjusted the cloth bundle on her back and began walking faster. The less time she'd have to spend in the dark and cold the less she'd have to rely on her powers of fire to dry herself up.
Name: Sir Ramius Kastagir, the White Raven
Creature Race: Revenant
Creature Race Overview: -
Gender: Male
Undeath Age: 42
Appearance: In life the honourable White Raven was tall, wide shouldered and relatively handsome. He still holds his stature, standing nearly 7 feet tall, his shoulders still as wide as two lesser men. His once handsome face has became gaunt and scarred from years of fighting those who have opposed him. The skin of his left cheek has been torn off, leaving teeth and bone visible. His right eye was lost to an arrow in his final battle in the ranks of the living and the left one burns with what seems like blue fire - though it still retains at least some warmth. A small goatee still adorns his chin, just as jet black as his long hair which flows down to his shoulders.
Ramius' left arm has remained seemingly unharmed, the color of the skin has became a rancid green and the veins are visible as purple lines. His right arm is emaciated and rotten to the point of being mostly bone from below the shoulder.
The suit of plate armor that was once gleaming white has been blackened and bloodstained by the magic and the horrible injuries Ramius suffered in his final battle. Though the armor is more or less complete the White Raven's right forearm and hand are completely visible. Visible too are his ribs on the right side of his body. The tattered black cape he has hanging from his shoulders still has the white raven emblem barely discernable on it.
Abilities:
Commanding the Dead - Ramius can call upon the lesser undead and has with him a handful of lesser revenants who used to be his comrades in arms.
Touch of Death - Ramius can use his right hand to momentarily paralyze the living, a weak willed opponent is completely paralyzed, but an opponent with a strong enough will might easily break the paralysis.
Fury of Undeath - Ramius is able to push his undead body even further than your average revenant, he can seemingly take a horrendous amount of damage and still keep functioning.
Talents:
Skilled swordsman - though Ramius was not quite hailed as a master swordsman he was still quite a bit above an average swordsman.
Skilled tactician - Ramius was not hailed as a master tactician either, but he has retained his cunning and can still come up with a plan or two if need be.
Ever the diplomat - In life the White Raven was both a warrior and a diplomat, he has retained his silver tongue to a degree - at least towards those whom he sees as being no true threat to himself.
Weapons: Two longswords strapped on his right hip, both with a blackened hilt and blade - infused with Ramius' hatred towards both the living and the undead. The pommel of both swords are quite large rubies. The weapons have been enchanted by the dark energies and the wielder's rage to infect any wounds they make.
Steed: -
Magic:
Necromancy - Ramius is skilled enough in necromancy to raise what some would refer to as a small army, however his approach is more quantity over quality. He is also able to cast a few spells that bolster the power of himself and his minions.
The Tale of a Corpse: The White Raven fell not due to his own failures, but due to the cowardice of the men fighting beside him. When he arose as a revenant his sheer fury towards the men who fought at his side kept him focused and sane. It was a stroke of luck that he came upon some of the men who were traitors in his opinion - to him, not to them - as Ramius unleashed his fury on the men who had left him to die the lesser dead began to gather around him. Soon the warrior began gathering a small army - even raising some of the former traitors to his side and crushing any revenant weaker than himself while staying clear of the more powerful ones until he could contend with them. The few living warriors who have faced the White Raven and remained in the ranks of the living tell a weird story about the man - or what remains of him - searching for a powerful enough opponent. Not so he could become truly dead, but to have a magnificent battle worthy of song. Even if it would mean Ramius himself would be the only one left to sing it.
Creature Race: Revenant
Creature Race Overview: -
Gender: Male
Undeath Age: 42
Appearance: In life the honourable White Raven was tall, wide shouldered and relatively handsome. He still holds his stature, standing nearly 7 feet tall, his shoulders still as wide as two lesser men. His once handsome face has became gaunt and scarred from years of fighting those who have opposed him. The skin of his left cheek has been torn off, leaving teeth and bone visible. His right eye was lost to an arrow in his final battle in the ranks of the living and the left one burns with what seems like blue fire - though it still retains at least some warmth. A small goatee still adorns his chin, just as jet black as his long hair which flows down to his shoulders.
Ramius' left arm has remained seemingly unharmed, the color of the skin has became a rancid green and the veins are visible as purple lines. His right arm is emaciated and rotten to the point of being mostly bone from below the shoulder.
The suit of plate armor that was once gleaming white has been blackened and bloodstained by the magic and the horrible injuries Ramius suffered in his final battle. Though the armor is more or less complete the White Raven's right forearm and hand are completely visible. Visible too are his ribs on the right side of his body. The tattered black cape he has hanging from his shoulders still has the white raven emblem barely discernable on it.
Abilities:
Commanding the Dead - Ramius can call upon the lesser undead and has with him a handful of lesser revenants who used to be his comrades in arms.
Touch of Death - Ramius can use his right hand to momentarily paralyze the living, a weak willed opponent is completely paralyzed, but an opponent with a strong enough will might easily break the paralysis.
Fury of Undeath - Ramius is able to push his undead body even further than your average revenant, he can seemingly take a horrendous amount of damage and still keep functioning.
Talents:
Skilled swordsman - though Ramius was not quite hailed as a master swordsman he was still quite a bit above an average swordsman.
Skilled tactician - Ramius was not hailed as a master tactician either, but he has retained his cunning and can still come up with a plan or two if need be.
Ever the diplomat - In life the White Raven was both a warrior and a diplomat, he has retained his silver tongue to a degree - at least towards those whom he sees as being no true threat to himself.
Weapons: Two longswords strapped on his right hip, both with a blackened hilt and blade - infused with Ramius' hatred towards both the living and the undead. The pommel of both swords are quite large rubies. The weapons have been enchanted by the dark energies and the wielder's rage to infect any wounds they make.
Steed: -
Magic:
Necromancy - Ramius is skilled enough in necromancy to raise what some would refer to as a small army, however his approach is more quantity over quality. He is also able to cast a few spells that bolster the power of himself and his minions.
The Tale of a Corpse: The White Raven fell not due to his own failures, but due to the cowardice of the men fighting beside him. When he arose as a revenant his sheer fury towards the men who fought at his side kept him focused and sane. It was a stroke of luck that he came upon some of the men who were traitors in his opinion - to him, not to them - as Ramius unleashed his fury on the men who had left him to die the lesser dead began to gather around him. Soon the warrior began gathering a small army - even raising some of the former traitors to his side and crushing any revenant weaker than himself while staying clear of the more powerful ones until he could contend with them. The few living warriors who have faced the White Raven and remained in the ranks of the living tell a weird story about the man - or what remains of him - searching for a powerful enough opponent. Not so he could become truly dead, but to have a magnificent battle worthy of song. Even if it would mean Ramius himself would be the only one left to sing it.
Character Name(s): Ramia Elanna Kastagir
age: 23
personality: Ramia can be at times rather impulsive, impolite and and downright rude at times - that paired with her volatile temper makes her rather difficult to deal with at first. When people get to know her however Ramia is deep down a nice and caring person and though her temper tantrums don't quite fit her age they do oftentimes have an endearing effect on people.
appearance: Ramia stands at just below 6 feet and is quite broad shouldered. Her overall physique could easily be called athletic.
Her left hand has a thin scar that runs from the knuckles to just past her wrist. Ramia's right hand lacks the very tip of it's middle finger and the palm also has a barely noticeable scar.
Her eye color varies between green and blue depending on how sunlight hits them.
She keeps her black hair cut short from the front and the slightly longer back part is kept in a ponytail that barely extends to her shoulders.
Ramia wears comfortable clothes that do not hinder her movement - a simple white silk shirt with long sleeves, a pair of gray pants and black leather boots that extend just under her knees. Around her waist she has a blue, wide silk sash with it's long ends hanging on her left hip - extending nearly to her knee.
bio: As the third child with a pair of older brothers Ramia's inheritance seemed rather nonexistent. Her brothers would split the duchy and she'd only have the name of the noble house of Kastagir as her inheritance. At the very least Ramia's parents gave her free reign to do what she wished and provided her with a good education.
They also permitted her to learn swordplay - and learn she did. Eventually her skills outgrew the duchy and she set out to find more skilled opponents in other parts of the world. Though every victory gave her experience and confidence even the losses taught her. She learned from every cut, nick and scar - sometimes she learned humility, or perhaps to be less overconfident. Her travels have taken Ramia to many places and she has locked blades with many a skilled swordsman.
powers: Extremely good eyesight and hand-eye coordination to the extent that Ramia has officially been forbidden from entering all kinds of archery contests.
Ramia can create and to a certain extent control fire, the more annoyed or distressed she is the stronger the flames. She dislikes and to an extent fears her ability.
Love Interest: None, yet.
other: Ramia carries with her two pairs of swords - the first is a pair of the most well crafted rapiers she has been able to get her hands on and the second is a pair of equally well crafted training swords, also made of steel. Usually her swords are wrapped in a bundle of cloth.
"I will love you"
age: 23
personality: Ramia can be at times rather impulsive, impolite and and downright rude at times - that paired with her volatile temper makes her rather difficult to deal with at first. When people get to know her however Ramia is deep down a nice and caring person and though her temper tantrums don't quite fit her age they do oftentimes have an endearing effect on people.
appearance: Ramia stands at just below 6 feet and is quite broad shouldered. Her overall physique could easily be called athletic.
Her left hand has a thin scar that runs from the knuckles to just past her wrist. Ramia's right hand lacks the very tip of it's middle finger and the palm also has a barely noticeable scar.
Her eye color varies between green and blue depending on how sunlight hits them.
She keeps her black hair cut short from the front and the slightly longer back part is kept in a ponytail that barely extends to her shoulders.
Ramia wears comfortable clothes that do not hinder her movement - a simple white silk shirt with long sleeves, a pair of gray pants and black leather boots that extend just under her knees. Around her waist she has a blue, wide silk sash with it's long ends hanging on her left hip - extending nearly to her knee.
bio: As the third child with a pair of older brothers Ramia's inheritance seemed rather nonexistent. Her brothers would split the duchy and she'd only have the name of the noble house of Kastagir as her inheritance. At the very least Ramia's parents gave her free reign to do what she wished and provided her with a good education.
They also permitted her to learn swordplay - and learn she did. Eventually her skills outgrew the duchy and she set out to find more skilled opponents in other parts of the world. Though every victory gave her experience and confidence even the losses taught her. She learned from every cut, nick and scar - sometimes she learned humility, or perhaps to be less overconfident. Her travels have taken Ramia to many places and she has locked blades with many a skilled swordsman.
powers: Extremely good eyesight and hand-eye coordination to the extent that Ramia has officially been forbidden from entering all kinds of archery contests.
Ramia can create and to a certain extent control fire, the more annoyed or distressed she is the stronger the flames. She dislikes and to an extent fears her ability.
Love Interest: None, yet.
other: Ramia carries with her two pairs of swords - the first is a pair of the most well crafted rapiers she has been able to get her hands on and the second is a pair of equally well crafted training swords, also made of steel. Usually her swords are wrapped in a bundle of cloth.
"I will love you"
I was more confused about the AU post, but thanks for the recap ^^
Max had spent most of his time in the small camp just staring in front of him and trying to stop his hands from shaking. Now that all of his adrenaline had been used up he could barely stand. Back in the day fighting against the Enclave had been so much easier... His eyesight had been better, his reflexes much quicker... and he had walked the wastes with the best posse any man could hope to have. Now what did he have? Sore legs, aching back and a lot of experience.
The old man managed to get on his feet as the Brotherhood fellows arrived and listened to them cautiously before walking closer. He forced a little smile to his lips and straightened his back. "Well it's been a while since I've seen any of your lot out in the open. The name is Max Sawyer. Gave your lot a hand back West when I was younger." Max smirked as he still remembered the baffled look when he had handed the Vertibird plans to that Matt fellow, it was like the fellow hadn't believed that Max and his little ragtag bunch had it in them to lie their way in to a heavily guarded Enclave installation. "Though that was a long time ago... I hope you lot don't have an age restriction when hiring." He added.
The old man managed to get on his feet as the Brotherhood fellows arrived and listened to them cautiously before walking closer. He forced a little smile to his lips and straightened his back. "Well it's been a while since I've seen any of your lot out in the open. The name is Max Sawyer. Gave your lot a hand back West when I was younger." Max smirked as he still remembered the baffled look when he had handed the Vertibird plans to that Matt fellow, it was like the fellow hadn't believed that Max and his little ragtag bunch had it in them to lie their way in to a heavily guarded Enclave installation. "Though that was a long time ago... I hope you lot don't have an age restriction when hiring." He added.
Not gonna lie, I'm confused @w@
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