Thuran really does not have any noticeable quirks.
While he is talkative, he always holds back on divulging too much information. He does like poetry, however, as that was the most common medium of artistic expression out west. He is also very found of telling lies, something he does a lot. He is found of music, and if one of his companions decides to either sing or play an instrument he will try and find a way to join in.
He also keeps an eye on everyone he travels with, his carefully trained eyes always looking for any signs of deceit or deception. If he has a feeling that someone might have a plan to hurt himself or others in the group, he will find a way to remove the cancerous member.
He has a fascination with some things that Easterners consider mundane, such as the large crop fields or the bulky metal armor worn by soldiers.
Treat this phase as character introduction time. We have other soldiers traveling with us, of sorts. So if you want to mention their replies than you are more than welcome to. If you want to bring a NPC into the fold, this is the time for that as well. They will be apart of the group not in the CS tab.
As Thuran was about to head off on his own, the sound of numerous footsteps moving through the mud from behind entered his ears. Quickly turning about, he surveyed the approaching group as their questions began to fall upon him. His eyes first jumped to the face of the Siren who sarcastically responded to his earlier statement. He eyes betrayed him for just a second as they looked over the mask that the Siren wore. But they soon darted off to an Elven man, who was asking a question in a way that removed all doubt as to his importance. They finally fell upon a woman befit of a pleasure den, not a war torn land. In his mind he joked of his luck.
“A warm, dry place to rest would be a welcomed luxury from this.” Thuran responded as his eyes darted to the skies. “But I fear such a luxury would be, how do you say, a trap.” He accent betrayed him, and he signed a sigh of relief escaped his lips as soon as he found his words. Even after all these years he still had issues with the Eastern Languages, the simple differences in word pronunciations yet the massive differences in meanings. Turing his body to face the Siren once more, this time eyes under control, he addressed her directly.“But if a warm and dry trap is what it will take to hear the sweet songs of the Siren once in my life then a warm and dry trap it shall be.” He finished as he gave a slight bow. The legends of the Sirens was a common one in his homeland, though they did not have quite the fearsome reputation here that they had there. In his home the legends of the Sirens was more of a promise to an aging soldier or an old man. He often heard many a man speak of traveling east to be taken to the throne of their god by the songs of the Siren. Even though he has become wiser to the original intentions of the Sirens as he spent time in the East, at least those that the common folk believe in. He still gave the Siren a genuine Curtsy none the less.
“But I think it is I you search for, Elven man.” He spoke directly to the Elven man. “I was tasked with scouting ahead for our gracious General.” He said as he let out a small bit of laughter. “I came across this village a little while before the main body arrived, yet something fells off.” He said as he motioned for the group to look. “There are clothes hanging on the drying lines yet, even though the rain falls from the heavens above.” He then motioned for them to look at the streets around the houses, pointing out the market places among others. “No people walk the streets, no people remove clothing from the drying lines, and not one sign of life is to be seen here. Begs the question, where are the people?” Pausing as he shrugged his shoulders. “If they ran from the Mad King, why not take their clothes?” He began to make his way towards the village. Step after step he could feel something was wrong. He was taught to always trust his gut as an assassin. If something felt off he would simply postpone his targets fate until another day. But he no longer had the courtesy of luxury, the Mad King stole that from him.
“But what do I know.” Pausing as he shrugged his shoulders once more. “I am but a simple sell-sword.” His head turned around to those that followed, some ten in number including a few last minute additions to the group. They looked to be simple folk who had joined up at the last minute. His guess was they only decided to fight the Mad King so they could tell their grandchildren that they fought along side the Great King Baelnorn in his final triumph. He knew they would not speak when he asked his next question, they were already defeated enough for them to mention their names.
"But who are you that our gracious General saw fit to send off in a scouting run?" He asked as he looked back to the village, this time eyes carefully scanning the shadows.
Awesome job with getting those posts up really fast, and i like their quality as well.
I will iron out a post tonight before i go to bed as i will be traveling tomorrow and will be without my computer for a bit this weekend. I'm visiting family out in Baltimore, and will be gone until midday Monday. I should be able to use their computer to write the next post after this, so don't fret. Just an FYI if i seem absent compared to my normal self :)
Should be very straight forward, though because of our diversity in races i had to make a plethora of adjustments to the starting story. If anyone wants to create a second character be my guest :D
I will start this RP slow, baby steps at first, before we start our true run ;)
Arms crossed under his think cloak with one leg resting on the other, a light drizzle started to fall from the sky and began to wash away the dirt and grime down the sides of Thuran's tan face as he waited for the rest of the surviving soldiers to arrive. The rain that fell in between the sides of his cape often found a home under the straps of leather covering her arms and legs, making Thuran increasing upset and moody. His eyes beamed jealousy as he looked towards the abandoned village sitting in the distance, and the dry and warm buildings that sat within. He saw no signs of life from the village, no people had been seen walking the roads while clothes hung on lines outside in the rain. It had been a rough week for the Lithleethian, starting with the massacre at the Fields of Amarillis.
The sell-sword remembers clearly where he was when everything went to hell. He stood in the middle of the giant army fighting alongside his employer, the young general Cavat of the Firen people. He was hired as a bodyguard for the General, and thanks to some issues with the Glamhoth general, found his skills tested early when a horde of cultist managed to break through the Lavas lines and into the midst of Cavats army. While the fighting was intense, it paled in comparison for what came next. Skies filled with flame and ash filled the air around him. Each night he is tormented by the images of dragon fire and monstrous beasts straight from hell emerging from the mountain. His mind still see's the faces of those crushed by the falling stones, those dragged away by the shadows and even the lucky ones burned to ash in an instant. The days that followed did not spare him any nightmares either. With the frantic running, and the constant threat of a shambler army creeping up on him kept him alert, and without much rest.
Though a few days after the battle he ran into a few surviving soldiers, then into a surviving and mostly intact army from the city of Lavas five hundred strong. They were late to the battle and were spared the initial attack, according to the general at least. Various survivors had fallen in with the army as they made their way back to their city. It was here that Thuran found himself thrust into the role of a scout, something most unknown to him. He was an assassin yes, and possibly the most athletic member of the group, but he worked with the shadows to find a target not against them in locating a threat. He had mentioned this many times to the general over the past few days to no success, even when he pointed out that there was an elf who was an experienced scout. Thuran figured this was due to his western heritage over anything else. The Lavas general was right to be wary of the Lithleeth man, their reputation proceeded them even in these dark days.
His thoughts were dragged away by the sounds of the approaching allied soldiers, their footsteps splashing through the wet road as they neared his position. “Again, here we go.” He said as his body turned to face the approaching unit, and waved his hand to signal the general.
Glancing across the approaching soldiers, the westerner quickly noticed the tall heavyset man whom was in charge. He was a Lavas general named Dorius, a well regarded man by his fellow Lavas, and a well hated man by anyone else. The man towered over his bodyguards as if he was a Glamhoth berserk standing in the middle of a group of goblins. On his face, each tracing line and obsolescent tissues were proof of the long life that he has endured thus far. His once strong, and muscular frame, had began to grow frail as each step brought about a slight limp and a face full of pain. The general face quickly turned to match Thurans, and a frown quickly developed.
“Why have you stopped scouting, desert rat?” Dorius shouted out as his pace quickened and his limp grew more obvious.
“Empty village ahead, sir.” Thuran responded with his tell-tale Liltleeth accent. “Could be trap.”
“Why have you not scouted it out then? If there is a threat ahead it is your job as my scout to find them, boy.” Dorius responded, talking down to the Lithleethian in the process.
“Because if it is trap, then I do not want to spring it alone.” Thuran responded as his hand motioned for the general to come have a look at the village.
After a short pause, the General turned around and shouted for all the soldiers in the group to stop. He motioned for his bodyguards to follow, and he began to trudge his way through the muddy path towards Thuran. “Tell me, what is it that you see that makes you think this village is a trap?”
“It's not what I see, but what is missing.” Thuran said as he pointed out across the village. “No villagers, clothes still on the lines in the rain.” Thuran said as he turned towards the general. “If the enemy has caught up with us again, then this is where I think they would come from. We are far from the battlefield now, and this village is remote. I think the news of what happened might not have arrived yet.”
“You make little sense. We sent out runners a few days ago down this same path. They would have told them of what happened on their way to the capital cities.” The General replied as he turned towards one of his bodyguards. “Grab the Elven Nobel, the Siren bitch, and the Mûl mongrels and every other expendable soldier and bring them up here. We shall humor the dog and let him play in the village for us.” The general finished as he tossed Turan a look of disgust.
“None of your soldiers will come?” Thuran asked as he raised his right eyebrow, questioning the decision.
“Like I said, expendable soldiers only.” He responded as he turned around and began to walk back towards his soldiers. “Set up a perimeter. We hold for twenty minutes.” He walked into the middle of the soldiers, barking orders as he went, before he went out of sight for Thuran.
On cue, Thuran disregarded the commander and his eyes were drawn back to the village. The village itself was rather large, shaped like a giant oval with a small creek separating the buildings inside the village from the forest, with a small stone bridge as the only way across. On either side though, farming fields, horse stables and small markets crowded the edges of the village. At the end, one large house stood out from the rest. He assumed it was the village elders house, as it was in remarkably good shape compared to the surrounded buildings.
His eyes were drawn away once more by the sounds of footsteps coming from behind. His eyes quickly darted back and took in the sight of twenty odd soldiers, of various races and backgrounds with the remarkable exclusion of a single Lavas soul. A small smirk formed across his face as he admired the fact, before he turned around once more and took off in a slow walk towards the village.
“Let's see if anyone is home, no?” He asked to the soldiers behind him.
My cs for now. I'll have to finish and edit it a little later.
Merilwyn of Estelle
before she became Mûi:
“the woman who rightfully earned her name as the burning rose,”
Gender: Female
Age: appears to be 28
Race: Andrann turned Mûi
Appearance: Dark mossy green eyes, which are like that of the lush forest floor, strikingly contrasts against Meril’s deep scarlet hair which hangs a few inches below her shoulders. It is often covered by a dark hood and left down; as unlike her elven kin she does not care for braids. Her naturally fair skin has been tanned to a warm honey tone thanks for her many days adventuring in the woods; and her hands made tough from drawing her bowstring. Although Merilwyn is petite, owning a height of 5’4”, her presence is firm and confident.
Personality: (to be finished later)
History: For many years the fortress of Galadhon had been a home to the young lady Merilwyn, and her older brother Vhenan. The two hailed from the wealthy house of Estelle, and had been schooled extensively in magic and nobility. While her brother had taken a liking to the latter; Merilwyn found she had a natural talent in the arcane, specifically with the elements. Swift with a bow and armed with her magic, she became a well known elemental archer. She rose quickly in the ranks of Andrann battle mages, those below her took to calling the maiden the ‘burning rose’.
In early adulthood, Vhenan had become an ambassador while Merilwyn was commander of a small unit of archers. The two lived peacefully in Galadhon; until a small party of ambassadors and artisans, including her brother, had been sent beyond their stronghold. Supposedly, to negotiate trade with nearby merchants. It seemed a simple task, until they didn’t return.
Scouts confirmed that the party was attacked, but could not say by who nor if there were any survivors. Hopeful that her brother lived, Merilwyn pushed for further search parties, support, even retaliation against these attackers. None would give their support, saying that they could not risk more lives. The Andrann is a small clan after all. Merilwyn, without the permission, went off to find her answers. When she finally reached her brother, he had indeed not survived. It would appear human bandits ambushed the party, they have after all sought after Galadhon for years.
Merilwyn could have returned to the Andrann, asked for forgiveness and resumed her family title; instead she left and become Mûi. She lived by herself for a total of five years or so, taking the occasional job to earn money. Until word reached her of the Mad King Vyshaan, as she was ready to lend a hand.
Equipment:
~ a simple embroidered traveling bag ~ a small pouch to carry mint and other herbs ~ concealed throwing knives ~ a lightweight, small and simple sword ~ a silver pendant with red jewels baring the Estelle family crest
~ a beautiful longbow, hand crafted by Merilwyn herself. No expense was spared, as the finest rosewood and hickory was used; along with soft leather for the grip and a tight bowstring. Runes native to her Andrann lineage are engraved upon the dark wood, so that the bow may withstand her elemental magic. Meril has taken a liking to calling the bow Rýn; elvish for burning
Other: As a skilled archer, Meril has extensive knowledge on bow’s and how to make them. With the right tools she could fashion a simple recurve in only a few hours. She has basic knowledge about herbs and where to find them. In elvish, Merilwyn means ‘rose maiden’.She loves mint, makes great tea, and is a talented artist.
Let me know when you are finished. I like what i have seen thus far :D
Alright, so whomever has shown interest is all i will be accepting. So if you have posted a CS in thread, gave interest in anyway, you are in. Everyone else who might be interested PM me first.
Let's get the rest of these CS's finished so we can start this story.
