Supermaxx

Pariah Online | Season One

G R A V E S

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• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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Graves kept to the vanguard of their dungeon party, as was the plan. He acted as the tip of the spear as they descended deeper into the depths of the labyrinth. It was the Blood Knight's duty to keep his eyes peeled for any monsters or traps that would impede their progress onward. Oddly enough, no such obstacles made themselves known, even as they entered a cramped tunnel that would've been perfect for such static defenses. Silently, Graves advanced, tapping the floor and the walls with the tip of his halberd periodically.

'It doesn't make any sense.' The Bounty Hunter thought. 'This is about as perfect a killbox as you can get. But...' He glanced around, eyes shifting to the back of the group where there was a distinctive lack of Orchid beside the little girl. 'Damn ingrate. Didn't even hear me, did he?' With a heavy sigh, the tank returned his attention forward, continuing on, slowly but surely advancing ever further.

'...But there isn't so much as a single trap in here to slow us down.' It was as if all standard dungeon protocol had been purposefully turned on it's head. Monsters were acting with surprising cunning, while tight corridors- usually guaranteed to have at least one to two traps guarding them- were, for the most part, safe. Graves couldn't hear any activity on the other side of the tunnel. It was silent, other than the rhythmic breathing of the person behind him and the tapping of his halberd. The quiet was...unnerving. Graves strained to see what was in front of him in the darkness. He felt sweat formulate along his brow. Was he...nervous? Why? Graves didn't get nervous. It wasn't like him.

"I think I see a room up ahead. Let's-" Graves started, only to cut himself off with a frightened shout.

Suddenly, a painfully vibrant light came before them almost out of nowhere. Graves was forced to look away from the source until his vision adjusted to the quick change. Once he was able to see, the Blood Knight was surprised to see the ghost of one of Pariah's announcers floating in the tight corridor before them. This was a...new development. Things only got stranger as the man's forced smile broke down into a worried frown, and he approached them out of character. Something big must be going down; Pariah prided itself on it's immersive nature. The information he had for them was the closest thing to terrifying Andrew had ever experienced. 'Holy shit. B-brain-dead?'

Andrew felt like he'd just been struck by a freight train. He couldn't explain the numbness that spread through the tips of his fingers. With shaky, uneven breaths he looked back at the rest of the party. They...they were in real danger, now. T-they could die. All it took was their health dropping down to zero, then they'd go...brain-dead. It didn't feel real. This couldn't...be. But it wasn't...it wasn't just a joke. The admin said so outright. Andrew hadn't experienced true terror before. But this. This was pretty damn close. Graves ran a shaky hand through his sweat soaked hair. He gripped the shaft of his halberd tight enough for his knuckles to go white. His every instinct told him to run. But where to? He was trapped. They couldn't log off; he tried to, even though the developer said it couldn't be done. 'Oh God. Okay...shit. Fuck. Keep it together.'

Landon was the first to break the silence. His loud shout drew a brief jump from the towering warrior, much to his shame. Their resident alchemist, who thankfully still had his wits about him, had come up with a quick plan for how they might escape the dungeon before...before it was too late. Graves silently nodded, following along with whatever plan he had. The Blood Knight didn't like being stuck at the back of the group as they backtracked to the front gate. He was constantly glancing over his shoulder, worried more ogres would pop out of the floor to actually kill him at any second. Thankfully they were able to return to the entrance without incident, and Landon went to work strapping every explosive in his arsenal to the threshold that blocked their path to safety and freedom.

At the older man's order, Graves retreated a good number of steps behind him to keep out of the blast zone. Dying to a teammate's controlled explosion sounded a hell of a lot worse than getting jumped by an ogre, or shot to pieces by a horde of goblin archers. Landon oozed confidence in his own plan. He even asked the fire mage to light up his cigarette, too. Graves couldn't help but envy how...calm he managed to be in a crisis. With the blast imminent, the tank placed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. The ground shook, and the explosion was still eardrum-shatteringly loud. Turning hopeful eyes up toward the gate, Graves was once more struck by a very human feeling of despair. The gate remained. It was barely even scorched, somehow. It didn't work. Players usually couldn't just blow their way through dungeons for...obvious balance reasons. But this- they needed this one to work.

They were well and truly stuck in the dungeon, unable to escape through their original entrance. Trapped within an unknowable labyrinth, surrounded by monsters with wits as sharp as their gleaming blades. Graves rose up from his hiding spot on unsteady legs. He crossed over to where Landon had fallen onto his backside. Reaching down, the tank placed a strong arm beneath the pyrotechnician's arm, helping to lift the man up if he didn't- for some reason- resist the assistance. "You okay?" The Blood Knight asked, concern written all over his typically rough and uncaring visage. He didn't have time to keep up the 'tough guy' act. Not in this situation. Andrew wasn't that stupid. It didn't take a genius to tell that they only had one last option for getting out of there, save sitting around and hoping the administrators found a way to log them off before they were turned into monster chow.

"Hey, uh. Guys?" Graves raised his voice a little, looking around as he tried to get the group's attention for a second. There was a good chance morale was...wavering, after that failed attempt at escape. Everyone was probably feeling about the same way Graves was. He could've kept quiet, but- they couldn't just stand about waiting for the end. Something needed to be done. "Right. So." Graves set his weapon on the floor gently, crossing his arms over his chest. It made him feel just a smidgen more secure. "Obviously...we're probably all not...feeling too good about this." No shit, Sherlock. "However. We can't just sit here moping. We need...a plan. We can't get outta here through the gate, so...As far as I can tell, we have two options. We either set up defensive positions here and hold out until the admins can log us out; if they even can. Or..." Graves sighed, glancing around at the rest of them. The control mage with her chains out seemed particularly on edge. "We try to get out the normal way. Beat the dungeon so we're not just sitting ducks waiting to be attacked. I know- I know that sounds crazy. Especially with- well- yeah. You know. But...I'm gonna be honest, guys, I can't see another way outta this."

Superboy's Shitty Characters

G R A V E S

---

• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

---

Graves kept to the vanguard of their dungeon party, as was the plan. He acted as the tip of the spear as they descended deeper into the depths of the labyrinth. It was the Blood Knight's duty to keep his eyes peeled for any monsters or traps that would impede their progress onward. Oddly enough, no such obstacles made themselves known, even as they entered a cramped tunnel that would've been perfect for such static defenses. Silently, Graves advanced, tapping the floor and the walls with the tip of his halberd periodically.

'It doesn't make any sense.' The Bounty Hunter thought. 'This is about as perfect a killbox as you can get. But...' He glanced around, eyes shifting to the back of the group where there was a distinctive lack of Orchid beside the little girl. 'Damn ingrate. Didn't even hear me, did he?' With a heavy sigh, the tank returned his attention forward, continuing on, slowly but surely advancing ever further.

'...But there isn't so much as a single trap in here to slow us down.' It was as if all standard dungeon protocol had been purposefully turned on it's head. Monsters were acting with surprising cunning, while tight corridors- usually guaranteed to have at least one to two traps guarding them- were, for the most part, safe. Graves couldn't hear any activity on the other side of the tunnel. It was silent, other than the rhythmic breathing of the person behind him and the tapping of his halberd. The quiet was...unnerving. Graves strained to see what was in front of him in the darkness. He felt sweat formulate along his brow. Was he...nervous? Why? Graves didn't get nervous. It wasn't like him.

"I think I see a room up ahead. Let's-" Graves started, only to cut himself off with a frightened shout.

Suddenly, a painfully vibrant light came before them almost out of nowhere. Graves was forced to look away from the source until his vision adjusted to the quick change. Once he was able to see, the Blood Knight was surprised to see the ghost of one of Pariah's announcers floating in the tight corridor before them. This was a...new development. Things only got stranger as the man's forced smile broke down into a worried frown, and he approached them out of character. Something big must be going down; Pariah prided itself on it's immersive nature. The information he had for them was the closest thing to terrifying Andrew had ever experienced. 'Holy shit. B-brain-dead?'

Andrew felt like he'd just been struck by a freight train. He couldn't explain the numbness that spread through the tips of his fingers. With shaky, uneven breaths he looked back at the rest of the party. They...they were in real danger, now. T-they could die. All it took was their health dropping down to zero, then they'd go...brain-dead. It didn't feel real. This couldn't...be. But it wasn't...it wasn't just a joke. The admin said so outright. Andrew hadn't experienced true terror before. But this. This was pretty damn close. Graves ran a shaky hand through his sweat soaked hair. He gripped the shaft of his halberd tight enough for his knuckles to go white. His every instinct told him to run. But where to? He was trapped. They couldn't log off; he tried to, even though the developer said it couldn't be done. 'Oh God. Okay...shit. Fuck. Keep it together.'

Landon was the first to break the silence. His loud shout drew a brief jump from the towering warrior, much to his shame. Their resident alchemist, who thankfully still had his wits about him, had come up with a quick plan for how they might escape the dungeon before...before it was too late. Graves silently nodded, following along with whatever plan he had. The Blood Knight didn't like being stuck at the back of the group as they backtracked to the front gate. He was constantly glancing over his shoulder, worried more ogres would pop out of the floor to actually kill him at any second. Thankfully they were able to return to the entrance without incident, and Landon went to work strapping every explosive in his arsenal to the threshold that blocked their path to safety and freedom.

At the older man's order, Graves retreated a good number of steps behind him to keep out of the blast zone. Dying to a teammate's controlled explosion sounded a hell of a lot worse than getting jumped by an ogre, or shot to pieces by a horde of goblin archers. Landon oozed confidence in his own plan. He even asked the fire mage to light up his cigarette, too. Graves couldn't help but envy how...calm he managed to be in a crisis. With the blast imminent, the tank placed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. The ground shook, and the explosion was still eardrum-shatteringly loud. Turning hopeful eyes up toward the gate, Graves was once more struck by a very human feeling of despair. The gate remained. It was barely even scorched, somehow. It didn't work. Players usually couldn't just blow their way through dungeons for...obvious balance reasons. But this- they needed this one to work.

They were well and truly stuck in the dungeon, unable to escape through their original entrance. Trapped within an unknowable labyrinth, surrounded by monsters with wits as sharp as their gleaming blades. Graves rose up from his hiding spot on unsteady legs. He crossed over to where Landon had fallen onto his backside. Reaching down, the tank placed a strong arm beneath the pyrotechnician's arm, helping to lift the man up if he didn't- for some reason- resist the assistance. "You okay?" The Blood Knight asked, concern written all over his typically rough and uncaring visage. He didn't have time to keep up the 'tough guy' act. Not in this situation. Andrew wasn't that stupid. It didn't take a genius to tell that they only had one last option for getting out of there, save sitting around and hoping the administrators found a way to log them off before they were turned into monster chow.

"Hey, uh. Guys?" Graves raised his voice a little, looking around as he tried to get the group's attention for a second. There was a good chance morale was...wavering, after that failed attempt at escape. Everyone was probably feeling about the same way Graves was. He could've kept quiet, but- they couldn't just stand about waiting for the end. Something needed to be done. "Right. So." Graves set his weapon on the floor gently, crossing his arms over his chest. It made him feel just a smidgen more secure. "Obviously...we're probably all not...feeling too good about this." No shit, Sherlock. "However. We can't just sit here moping. We need...a plan. We can't get outta here through the gate, so...As far as I can tell, we have two options. We either set up defensive positions here and hold out until the admins can log us out; if they even can. Or..." Graves sighed, glancing around at the rest of them. The control mage with her chains out seemed particularly on edge. "We try to get out the normal way. Beat the dungeon so we're not just sitting ducks waiting to be attacked. I know- I know that sounds crazy. Especially with- well- yeah. You know. But...I'm gonna be honest, guys, I can't see another way outta this."

Pariah Online | Season One

@Inkarnate Thanks for the heads up, dude. Glad you're okay

The Redwatch

At the tail end of the crowd of potential recruits, a shadowy form scurried along behind. Small and unassuming, one wouldn't be remiss not to notice it. The dark shape hid itself partially between the bodies of two larger, more capable mice; they looked like farming boys, given their ridiculous mass and distinct lack of brain cells. These were the next generation of Watchmice? Seriously? Passing underneath the light of a torch, the dark furred rodent was briefly made visible to those around him. The young mouse, apparently eager to blend into the crowd of recruits, looked like the recent victim of a violent mugging. Tired, beady eyes had slight swelling around small, wretched scars that dotted his face. The few times the mouse opened his mouth, one likely caught a glimpse of his chipped front tooth. Even average mice nearly towered over the stunted young rodent. Short, scrawny and worse for wear, his presence- when eventually noted- had brought more than one shaking head or silent chuckle. Sleepy Eyes Erian didn't look like he belonged. He wasn't built like a warrior mouse, nor did he carry himself like one. Erian was always crouched over, making himself even smaller than he naturally was.

Erian kept a close eye on those around him, sizing up the competition. He was easily among the smallest of the mice in the group, many of them outright towering over him. The grey whiskered rodent leading their group forward wasn't exactly a picture of strength either, but Sleepy Eyes could tell the old mouse was still plenty dangerous in his age; though likely not in the same way he was in his youth. He hadn't minced words with the crowd of new to soon be greenbands. Passing through the front gate was their way of signing on for death. It had...nearly shaken Erian's resolve, if he was wholly honest. He almost turned back with the other cowards. But his inner patriot spurred him forward. Erian had always looked up to the Redwatch; and with his personal situation as it was, the tiny mouse all but had to, if he didn't want to starve to death or spend the rest of his life as a needy dependent. Erian wasn't gonna run with his tail between his legs. That wasn't even an option. Jaw set, and filled with uneasy determination, the black furred fighter slipped into the back of the group and proceeded forward into the Redfort's dimly lit halls.

Their Watchguard led the band of misfits into an almost barren room, save for what looked like a door, a crank and...a pile of weapons. That made Erian wonder. Were they being thrown into the action straight away, then? No orientation? No getting settled or basic health tests? A trial by fire was certainly one way to do things. Not knowing the ways of the Redwatch, Erian was glad his aunt had the charity to purchase the bow that rested over his shoulder. It's craftsmanship wasn't masterful, but it was sturdy and would certainly get the job done. Erian had been practicing with it behind the house for a couple of weeks already. He was far from a real marksman, being mostly self taught and still fairly clumsy- Erian had a long way to go before he'd ever be able to shoot with the same skill as a full blown Watcher. If his shaky archery skills failed him, the mouse had the blade on his hip to fall back on. Less than half the length of a normal sword, and a bit shoddy in his construction, Sleepy Eyes's hunting knife was a last resort sort of thing. He almost wanted to replace it with something from the pile of weapons in the center of the room, but the other Greenbands had already taken the good stuff.

Shifting on his feet, Erian scurried across the room, slowly tracing his eyes over some of the more interesting characters. There was one mouse, with lighter fur and a brawnier build, that looked particularly intimidating. He had scars that made Erian's look like scuff marks and a sword that could probably cleave the tiny mouse in half. Not far from him was another particularly large mouse that caught Erian's eye, though this rodent was a she. Wielding a warhammer that was probably heavier than Erian's whole body and actual armor unlike anyone else in the room, she was a sight to behold for a mere recruit. Had to be nobility; or a veteran's daughter, at the very least, to show up with that kind of equipment. What really caught his eye, though, was the familiar patch of black fur around her heart. It actually made the rodent smile, though it wasn't a happy or humored one. It matched his own matted coat in it's darkness, and likely burdened her with the same tired superstitious looks that Erian received. Sleepy Eyes hovered closer to the two largest mice in the room paw clenching at the bow over his shoulder. He'd use the big guys as cover for when shit inevitably hit the fan.

'Keep your head down, Eri. Dunno where this elevator thing leads or why, but this is lookin' like it'll get bad quick.'

Superboy's Shitty Characters

At the tail end of the crowd of potential recruits, a shadowy form scurried along behind. Small and unassuming, one wouldn't be remiss not to notice it. The dark shape hid itself partially between the bodies of two larger, more capable mice; they looked like farming boys, given their ridiculous mass and distinct lack of brain cells. These were the next generation of Watchmice? Seriously? Passing underneath the light of a torch, the dark furred rodent was briefly made visible to those around him. The young mouse, apparently eager to blend into the crowd of recruits, looked like the recent victim of a violent mugging. Tired, beady eyes had slight swelling around small, wretched scars that dotted his face. The few times the mouse opened his mouth, one likely caught a glimpse of his chipped front tooth. Even average mice nearly towered over the stunted young rodent. Short, scrawny and worse for wear, his presence- when eventually noted- had brought more than one shaking head or silent chuckle. Sleepy Eyes Erian didn't look like he belonged. He wasn't built like a warrior mouse, nor did he carry himself like one. Erian was always crouched over, making himself even smaller than he naturally was.

Erian kept a close eye on those around him, sizing up the competition. He was easily among the smallest of the mice in the group, many of them outright towering over him. The grey whiskered rodent leading their group forward wasn't exactly a picture of strength either, but Sleepy Eyes could tell the old mouse was still plenty dangerous in his age; though likely not in the same way he was in his youth. He hadn't minced words with the crowd of new to soon be greenbands. Passing through the front gate was their way of signing on for death. It had...nearly shaken Erian's resolve, if he was wholly honest. He almost turned back with the other cowards. But his inner patriot spurred him forward. Erian had always looked up to the Redwatch; and with his personal situation as it was, the tiny mouse all but had to, if he didn't want to starve to death or spend the rest of his life as a needy dependent. Erian wasn't gonna run with his tail between his legs. That wasn't even an option. Jaw set, and filled with uneasy determination, the black furred fighter slipped into the back of the group and proceeded forward into the Redfort's dimly lit halls.

Their Watchguard led the band of misfits into an almost barren room, save for what looked like a door, a crank and...a pile of weapons. That made Erian wonder. Were they being thrown into the action straight away, then? No orientation? No getting settled or basic health tests? A trial by fire was certainly one way to do things. Not knowing the ways of the Redwatch, Erian was glad his aunt had the charity to purchase the bow that rested over his shoulder. It's craftsmanship wasn't masterful, but it was sturdy and would certainly get the job done. Erian had been practicing with it behind the house for a couple of weeks already. He was far from a real marksman, being mostly self taught and still fairly clumsy- Erian had a long way to go before he'd ever be able to shoot with the same skill as a full blown Watcher. If his shaky archery skills failed him, the mouse had the blade on his hip to fall back on. Less than half the length of a normal sword, and a bit shoddy in his construction, Sleepy Eyes's hunting knife was a last resort sort of thing. He almost wanted to replace it with something from the pile of weapons in the center of the room, but the other Greenbands had already taken the good stuff.

Shifting on his feet, Erian scurried across the room, slowly tracing his eyes over some of the more interesting characters. There was one mouse, with lighter fur and a brawnier build, that looked particularly intimidating. He had scars that made Erian's look like scuff marks and a sword that could probably cleave the tiny mouse in half. Not far from him was another particularly large mouse that caught Erian's eye, though this rodent was a she. Wielding a warhammer that was probably heavier than Erian's whole body and actual armor unlike anyone else in the room, she was a sight to behold for a mere recruit. Had to be nobility; or a veteran's daughter, at the very least, to show up with that kind of equipment. What really caught his eye, though, was the familiar patch of black fur around her heart. It actually made the rodent smile, though it wasn't a happy or humored one. It matched his own matted coat in it's darkness, and likely burdened her with the same tired superstitious looks that Erian received. Sleepy Eyes hovered closer to the two largest mice in the room paw clenching at the bow over his shoulder. He'd use the big guys as cover for when shit inevitably hit the fan.

'Keep your head down, Eri. Dunno where this elevator thing leads or why, but this is lookin' like it'll get bad quick.'

The Redwatch

"Why do we even bother policing other Gnawers? Redwatch is for Redfield, they can deal with their own problems."

Name

Erian of Redfort // Erian Sleepy Eyes

Rank

Greenband

Appearance

A young upstart with a penchant for running his mouth, Erian's gotten himself into enough scraps over his short years to gain a number of scars. Swelled, shallow cuts surround each of the mouse's eyes, giving him a strangely tired expression- prompting his nickname. A chipped front tooth thanks to a neighbor wacking him in the mouth with a shovel during a heated argument.

Short and scrappy, Erian's body mass is tightly woven beneath his matted fur. His coat is a mess of tangled, black hair with sparse white spots around his torso. Erian's whiskers are long and typically caked in dirt and dust. Years of working in the deepest mines of Redfort, and covering himself in dirt and charcoal, Erian doesn't stress much over appearances. Not to say he's particularly dirty. But you won't find him getting his coat brushed often or excessively washing his paws.

Erian is small of stature, nearly half that of most mice his age from Redfort. Though Erian was always part of the mining unit, following in the footsteps of his parents, he never developed much upper body strength. Most thought he was incapable of it due to oddities in his genetics, tied, likely, to his height. Erian often worked as a scout and a runner. They sent him into the tiniest cracks and crevices to examine potential new areas to excavate. Dangerous work, but Sleepy Eyes was never one to shy away from it. This activity lent him great strength in his legs and a lithe, capable build.

Personality

One would struggle to find a more fiery, passionate soul than Sleepy Eyes Erian. The short tempered miner mouse is a deeply flawed individual. He has great pride in his lineage and his nation, to the point where he blindly believes and supports everything the monarch or her government says. He has a tendency toward violence when angered, especially against those who confront and insult him personally. Rough and coarse, the rodent often times struggles to empathize with others; especially when he doesn't know them personally. His personality tends to lead to conflict with others around him. Erian doesn't enjoy fighting with family or the few friends he has managed to keep a hold on, but a lot of the time the mouse simply can't control himself. He lacks the personal discipline to do so.

Erian of Redfort loves his country and his king. He's never left Redfield before, and never had any desire to for most of his young life. Ever since he was a boy, he's looked up to the Redwatch. He sees them as the crowning achievement of his beloved kingdom. A legacy of heroism and defending the legacy of his homeland left an impression upon the young mouse. Erian's blind patriotism and loyalty to the crown has left him jaded, however. He believes the Watch has spread itself too thin trying to protect everyone- some of whom might not eve deserve defending. Why does Redfield need to guard Glendale, or Westercroft? The Redwatch is their creation. It's their army. The other Gnawer kingdoms were a drain on Redfield resources and only ever caused problems for them. Erian used to shout his views from the mountaintops. Several violent confrontations later, and Sleepy Eyes has learned to keep his opinions to himself unless otherwise asked. He's just as passionate about it, however, as he used to be.

---

Watchers and Watchguards are given 65 points to allocate to their stats, Greenbands are given 60. Each player gets five points to put into their equipment -- each piece of equipment must have one point at minimum, and 5 at most. One point items are somewhat broken, very old, or otherwise crappy items you wouldn't pilfer a dead mouse for, two point items are cheap, old, flimsy, or otherwise unimpressive, three point items are well-made, four point items are very well made, and five point items are masterfully crafted. The higher the number is, the less likely it is to break.

Stats

STR: 6
CON: 15
DEX: 20
CHA: 3
INT: 8
LUC: 8

Equipment

3 points - Well crafted bow

2 points - Hunting knife
Traits

+Like A Rat: Erian fights with the brutality of a savage. He pokes eyes, stabs genitals and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Gains a bonus when rolling for a dirty trick maneuver, as well as when defending against a dirty trick.
+Cave Diver: Spending his youth in the deepest caves of Redfort, Erian is a natural at traversing underground environments. Gains a bonus to rolls for climbing checks when inside tight spaces
-Don't Call Me Short: Erian is nearly half the average height for a male mouse his age. His small stature makes him physically weak. Penalty to all melee strikes and strength tests.
-'Short' Tempered: Easily provoked to anger and lacking the discipline to control himself, Sleepy Eyes has a tendency to respond to negative circumstances with violence. Penalty to diplomacy rolls, charisma checks and potential to become 'enraged' if hurt in combat.

Trade

Following in the footsteps of his parents, Erian used to be a miner before he joined the Redwatch

Friend

Diana of Redfort: Aunt to Sleepy Eyes Erian, Diana is a Watchguard assigned to garrison duty in one of Redfort's burrows. She took Erian in after his parents died, and helped guide him to the Redwatch when the young mouse needed a direction in life. She supports him as best she can, though Erian's temper and shortsightedness make him a hassle to even her. Diana attempts to keep a 'hands off' approach, not wanting to mix her personal life with work- she shows absolutely no favoritism to Erian, and prefers not to interact with him outside of home life. She was his guardian for the two years prior to him becoming an adult mouse, giving Erian lodging when no others would.

Enemy

Vale Goldcloak: Vale runs the major mining operation in Redfort that Erian's parents both worked in. He and Erian's father were constantly at each other's throats while he was still alive. The father often usurped Vale's authority and was a threat to his position as head of the company. Goldcloak tried to run him out of the job dozens of times. Yet Erian's father, stubborn as a mule, refused to be intimidated. It is suspected by some that the mining 'accident' that claimed the lives of Erian's parents and made him an orphan could've been the work of a desperate Goldcloak, but the authorities didn't have enough evidence to pursue foul play charges. Vale and Erian hate one another with a passion. Erian suspects he's the murderer, and Vale believes Sleepy Eyes to be an impudent child that needs to be put in his place.

History

Sleepy Eyes Erian of Redfort was one of four children born in his litter. His parents were both career miners who had never left the city of Redfort before, and their children were expected to follow in their footsteps. Erian's siblings all died working in the mines in various accidents and cave ins. Erian nearly lost his head on a couple of occasions, but he managed to survive to early adulthood. Short tempered and opinionated, the boy got into plenty of trouble with others, often fighting older, stronger mice and coming home with scars and bruises. His parents, while loving, were too busy to adequately raise Sleepy Eyes- he lacked authority figures in his life and had little to no self discipline. When his parents both died in a mining accident, Erian was left without any close family to take care of him. He was too poor to afford his own living space and would likely starve if no one helped him. His aunt, Diana, gave him shelter. Erian, unable to make a living wage as a miner, was all but required to join the Redwatch if he wanted to survive on his own.

The Redwatch

CS but its part 2

"Why do we even bother policing other Gnawers? Redwatch is for Redfield, they can deal with their own problems."

Name

Erian of Redfort // Erian Sleepy Eyes

Rank

Greenband

Appearance

A young upstart with a penchant for running his mouth, Erian's gotten himself into enough scraps over his short years to gain a number of scars. Swelled, shallow cuts surround each of the mouse's eyes, giving him a strangely tired expression- prompting his nickname. A chipped front tooth thanks to a neighbor wacking him in the mouth with a shovel during a heated argument.

Short and scrappy, Erian's body mass is tightly woven beneath his matted fur. His coat is a mess of tangled, black hair with sparse white spots around his torso. Erian's whiskers are long and typically caked in dirt and dust. Years of working in the deepest mines of Redfort, and covering himself in dirt and charcoal, Erian doesn't stress much over appearances. Not to say he's particularly dirty. But you won't find him getting his coat brushed often or excessively washing his paws.

Erian is small of stature, nearly half that of most mice his age from Redfort. Though Erian was always part of the mining unit, following in the footsteps of his parents, he never developed much upper body strength. Most thought he was incapable of it due to oddities in his genetics, tied, likely, to his height. Erian often worked as a scout and a runner. They sent him into the tiniest cracks and crevices to examine potential new areas to excavate. Dangerous work, but Sleepy Eyes was never one to shy away from it. This activity lent him great strength in his legs and a lithe, capable build.

Personality

One would struggle to find a more fiery, passionate soul than Sleepy Eyes Erian. The short tempered miner mouse is a deeply flawed individual. He has great pride in his lineage and his nation, to the point where he blindly believes and supports everything the monarch or her government says. He has a tendency toward violence when angered, especially against those who confront and insult him personally. Rough and coarse, the rodent often times struggles to empathize with others; especially when he doesn't know them personally. His personality tends to lead to conflict with others around him. Erian doesn't enjoy fighting with family or the few friends he has managed to keep a hold on, but a lot of the time the mouse simply can't control himself. He lacks the personal discipline to do so.

Erian of Redfort loves his country and his king. He's never left Redfield before, and never had any desire to for most of his young life. Ever since he was a boy, he's looked up to the Redwatch. He sees them as the crowning achievement of his beloved kingdom. A legacy of heroism and defending the legacy of his homeland left an impression upon the young mouse. Erian's blind patriotism and loyalty to the crown has left him jaded, however. He believes the Watch has spread itself too thin trying to protect everyone- some of whom might not eve deserve defending. Why does Redfield need to guard Glendale, or Westercroft? The Redwatch is their creation. It's their army. The other Gnawer kingdoms were a drain on Redfield resources and only ever caused problems for them. Erian used to shout his views from the mountaintops. Several violent confrontations later, and Sleepy Eyes has learned to keep his opinions to himself unless otherwise asked. He's just as passionate about it, however, as he used to be.

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Watchers and Watchguards are given 65 points to allocate to their stats, Greenbands are given 60. Each player gets five points to put into their equipment -- each piece of equipment must have one point at minimum, and 5 at most. One point items are somewhat broken, very old, or otherwise crappy items you wouldn't pilfer a dead mouse for, two point items are cheap, old, flimsy, or otherwise unimpressive, three point items are well-made, four point items are very well made, and five point items are masterfully crafted. The higher the number is, the less likely it is to break.

Stats

STR: 6
CON: 15
DEX: 20
CHA: 3
INT: 8
LUC: 8

Equipment

3 points - Well crafted bow

2 points - Hunting knife
Traits

+Like A Rat: Erian fights with the brutality of a savage. He pokes eyes, stabs genitals and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Gains a bonus when rolling for a dirty trick maneuver, as well as when defending against a dirty trick.
+Cave Diver: Spending his youth in the deepest caves of Redfort, Erian is a natural at traversing underground environments. Gains a bonus to rolls for climbing checks when inside tight spaces
-Don't Call Me Short: Erian is nearly half the average height for a male mouse his age. His small stature makes him physically weak. Penalty to all melee strikes and strength tests.
-'Short' Tempered: Easily provoked to anger and lacking the discipline to control himself, Sleepy Eyes has a tendency to respond to negative circumstances with violence. Penalty to diplomacy rolls, charisma checks and potential to become 'enraged' if hurt in combat.

Trade

Following in the footsteps of his parents, Erian used to be a miner before he joined the Redwatch

Friend

Diana of Redfort: Aunt to Sleepy Eyes Erian, Diana is a Watchguard assigned to garrison duty in one of Redfort's burrows. She took Erian in after his parents died, and helped guide him to the Redwatch when the young mouse needed a direction in life. She supports him as best she can, though Erian's temper and shortsightedness make him a hassle to even her. Diana attempts to keep a 'hands off' approach, not wanting to mix her personal life with work- she shows absolutely no favoritism to Erian, and prefers not to interact with him outside of home life. She was his guardian for the two years prior to him becoming an adult mouse, giving Erian lodging when no others would.

Enemy

Vale Goldcloak: Vale runs the major mining operation in Redfort that Erian's parents both worked in. He and Erian's father were constantly at each other's throats while he was still alive. The father often usurped Vale's authority and was a threat to his position as head of the company. Goldcloak tried to run him out of the job dozens of times. Yet Erian's father, stubborn as a mule, refused to be intimidated. It is suspected by some that the mining 'accident' that claimed the lives of Erian's parents and made him an orphan could've been the work of a desperate Goldcloak, but the authorities didn't have enough evidence to pursue foul play charges. Vale and Erian hate one another with a passion. Erian suspects he's the murderer, and Vale believes Sleepy Eyes to be an impudent child that needs to be put in his place.

History

Sleepy Eyes Erian of Redfort was one of four children born in his litter. His parents were both career miners who had never left the city of Redfort before, and their children were expected to follow in their footsteps. Erian's siblings all died working in the mines in various accidents and cave ins. Erian nearly lost his head on a couple of occasions, but he managed to survive to early adulthood. Short tempered and opinionated, the boy got into plenty of trouble with others, often fighting older, stronger mice and coming home with scars and bruises. His parents, while loving, were too busy to adequately raise Sleepy Eyes- he lacked authority figures in his life and had little to no self discipline. When his parents both died in a mining accident, Erian was left without any close family to take care of him. He was too poor to afford his own living space and would likely starve if no one helped him. His aunt, Diana, gave him shelter. Erian, unable to make a living wage as a miner, was all but required to join the Redwatch if he wanted to survive on his own.

The Redwatch

Character Application

"Why do we even bother policing other Gnawers? Redwatch is for Redfield, they can deal with their own problems."

Name

Erian of Redfort // Erian Sleepy Eyes

Rank

Greenband

Appearance

A young upstart with a penchant for running his mouth, Erian's gotten himself into enough scraps over his short years to gain a number of scars. Swelled, shallow cuts surround each of the mouse's eyes, giving him a strangely tired expression- prompting his nickname. A chipped front tooth thanks to a neighbor wacking him in the mouth with a shovel during a heated argument.

Short and scrawny, Erian lacks much muscle mass beneath his matted fur. His coat is a mess of tangled, black hair with sparse white spots around his torso. Erian's whiskers are long and typically caked in dirt and dust. Years of working in the deepest mines of Redfort, and covering himself in dirt and charcoal, Erian doesn't stress much over appearances. Not to say he's particularly dirty. But you won't find him getting his coat brushed often or excessively washing his paws.

Erian is small of stature, nearly half that of most mice his age from Redfort. Though Erian was always part of the mining unit, following in the footsteps of his parents, he never developed much upper body strength. Most thought he was incapable of it due to oddities in his genetics, tied, likely, to his height. Erian often worked as a scout and a runner. They sent him into the tiniest cracks and crevices to examine potential new areas to excavate. Dangerous work, but Sleepy Eyes was never one to shy away from it. This activity lent him great strength in his legs and a lithe, capable build.

Personality

One would struggle to find a more fiery, passionate soul than Sleepy Eyes Erian. The short tempered miner mouse is a deeply flawed individual. He has great pride in his lineage and his nation, to the point where he blindly believes and supports everything the monarch or her government says. He has a tendency toward violence when angered, especially against those who confront and insult him personally. Rough and coarse, the rodent often times struggles to empathize with others; especially when he doesn't know them personally. His personality tends to lead to conflict with others around him. Erian doesn't enjoy fighting with family or the few friends he has managed to keep a hold on, but a lot of the time the mouse simply can't control himself. He lacks the personal discipline to do so.

Erian of Redfort loves his country and his king. He's never left Redfield before, and never had any desire to for most of his young life. Ever since he was a boy, he's looked up to the Redwatch. He sees them as the crowning achievement of his beloved kingdom. A legacy of heroism and defending the legacy of his homeland left an impression upon the young mouse. Erian's blind patriotism and loyalty to the crown has left him jaded, however. He believes the Watch has spread itself too thin trying to protect everyone- some of whom might not eve deserve defending. Why does Redfield need to guard Glendale, or Westercroft? The Redwatch is their creation. It's their army. The other Gnawer kingdoms were a drain on Redfield resources and only ever caused problems for them. Erian used to shout his views from the mountaintops. Several violent confrontations later, and Sleepy Eyes has learned to keep his opinions to himself unless otherwise asked. He's just as passionate about it, however, as he used to be.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

"Why do we even bother policing other Gnawers? Redwatch is for Redfield, they can deal with their own problems."

Name

Erian of Redfort // Erian Sleepy Eyes

Rank

Greenband

Appearance

A young upstart with a penchant for running his mouth, Erian's gotten himself into enough scraps over his short years to gain a number of scars. Swelled, shallow cuts surround each of the mouse's eyes, giving him a strangely tired expression- prompting his nickname. A chipped front tooth thanks to a neighbor wacking him in the mouth with a shovel during a heated argument.

Short and scrappy, Erian's body mass is tightly woven beneath his matted fur. His coat is a mess of tangled, black hair with sparse white spots around his torso. Erian's whiskers are long and typically caked in dirt and dust. Years of working in the deepest mines of Redfort, and covering himself in dirt and charcoal, Erian doesn't stress much over appearances. Not to say he's particularly dirty. But you won't find him getting his coat brushed often or excessively washing his paws.

Erian is small of stature, nearly half that of most mice his age from Redfort. Though Erian was always part of the mining unit, following in the footsteps of his parents, he never developed much upper body strength. Most thought he was incapable of it due to oddities in his genetics, tied, likely, to his height. Erian often worked as a scout and a runner. They sent him into the tiniest cracks and crevices to examine potential new areas to excavate. Dangerous work, but Sleepy Eyes was never one to shy away from it. This activity lent him great strength in his legs and a lithe, capable build.

Personality

One would struggle to find a more fiery, passionate soul than Sleepy Eyes Erian. The short tempered miner mouse is a deeply flawed individual. He has great pride in his lineage and his nation, to the point where he blindly believes and supports everything the monarch or her government says. He has a tendency toward violence when angered, especially against those who confront and insult him personally. Rough and coarse, the rodent often times struggles to empathize with others; especially when he doesn't know them personally. His personality tends to lead to conflict with others around him. Erian doesn't enjoy fighting with family or the few friends he has managed to keep a hold on, but a lot of the time the mouse simply can't control himself. He lacks the personal discipline to do so.

Erian of Redfort loves his country and his king. He's never left Redfield before, and never had any desire to for most of his young life. Ever since he was a boy, he's looked up to the Redwatch. He sees them as the crowning achievement of his beloved kingdom. A legacy of heroism and defending the legacy of his homeland left an impression upon the young mouse. Erian's blind patriotism and loyalty to the crown has left him jaded, however. He believes the Watch has spread itself too thin trying to protect everyone- some of whom might not eve deserve defending. Why does Redfield need to guard Glendale, or Westercroft? The Redwatch is their creation. It's their army. The other Gnawer kingdoms were a drain on Redfield resources and only ever caused problems for them. Erian used to shout his views from the mountaintops. Several violent confrontations later, and Sleepy Eyes has learned to keep his opinions to himself unless otherwise asked. He's just as passionate about it, however, as he used to be.

---

Watchers and Watchguards are given 65 points to allocate to their stats, Greenbands are given 60. Each player gets five points to put into their equipment -- each piece of equipment must have one point at minimum, and 5 at most. One point items are somewhat broken, very old, or otherwise crappy items you wouldn't pilfer a dead mouse for, two point items are cheap, old, flimsy, or otherwise unimpressive, three point items are well-made, four point items are very well made, and five point items are masterfully crafted. The higher the number is, the less likely it is to break.

Stats

STR: 6
CON: 15
DEX: 20
CHA: 3
INT: 8
LUC: 8

Equipment

3 points - Well crafted bow

2 points - Hunting knife
Traits

+Like A Rat: Erian fights with the brutality of a savage. He pokes eyes, stabs genitals and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Gains a bonus when rolling for a dirty trick maneuver, as well as when defending against a dirty trick.
+Cave Diver: Spending his youth in the deepest caves of Redfort, Erian is a natural at traversing underground environments. Gains a bonus to rolls for climbing checks when inside tight spaces
-Don't Call Me Short: Erian is nearly half the average height for a male mouse his age. His small stature makes him physically weak. Penalty to all melee strikes and strength tests.
-'Short' Tempered: Easily provoked to anger and lacking the discipline to control himself, Sleepy Eyes has a tendency to respond to negative circumstances with violence. Penalty to diplomacy rolls, charisma checks and potential to become 'enraged' if hurt in combat.

Trade

Following in the footsteps of his parents, Erian used to be a miner before he joined the Redwatch

Friend

Diana of Redfort: Aunt to Sleepy Eyes Erian, Diana is a Watchguard assigned to garrison duty in one of Redfort's burrows. She took Erian in after his parents died, and helped guide him to the Redwatch when the young mouse needed a direction in life. She supports him as best she can, though Erian's temper and shortsightedness make him a hassle to even her. Diana attempts to keep a 'hands off' approach, not wanting to mix her personal life with work- she shows absolutely no favoritism to Erian, and prefers not to interact with him outside of home life. She was his guardian for the two years prior to him becoming an adult mouse, giving Erian lodging when no others would.

Enemy

Vale Goldcloak: Vale runs the major mining operation in Redfort that Erian's parents both worked in. He and Erian's father were constantly at each other's throats while he was still alive. The father often usurped Vale's authority and was a threat to his position as head of the company. Goldcloak tried to run him out of the job dozens of times. Yet Erian's father, stubborn as a mule, refused to be intimidated. It is suspected by some that the mining 'accident' that claimed the lives of Erian's parents and made him an orphan could've been the work of a desperate Goldcloak, but the authorities didn't have enough evidence to pursue foul play charges. Vale and Erian hate one another with a passion. Erian suspects he's the murderer, and Vale believes Sleepy Eyes to be an impudent child that needs to be put in his place.

History

Sleepy Eyes Erian of Redfort was one of four children born in his litter. His parents were both career miners who had never left the city of Redfort before, and their children were expected to follow in their footsteps. Erian's siblings all died working in the mines in various accidents and cave ins. Erian nearly lost his head on a couple of occasions, but he managed to survive to early adulthood. Short tempered and opinionated, the boy got into plenty of trouble with others, often fighting older, stronger mice and coming home with scars and bruises. His parents, while loving, were too busy to adequately raise Sleepy Eyes- he lacked authority figures in his life and had little to no self discipline. When his parents both died in a mining accident, Erian was left without any close family to take care of him. He was too poor to afford his own living space and would likely starve if no one helped him. His aunt, Diana, gave him shelter. Erian, unable to make a living wage as a miner, was all but required to join the Redwatch if he wanted to survive on his own.

Pariah Online | Season One

G R A V E S

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• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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Graves didn't know how he felt about Rael's little theory. If this dungeon was just the beginning of another tier of monsters, with more intelligent AI and actual tactics, what did that mean about the rest of the game's difficulty? Would there be more dungeons like this one? The playerbase would need to adjust their expectations on how monsters should fight every time they approached certain raids. If they couldn't adapt, as their current ragtag team had somehow managed to, they'd die. 'Pariah was gettin' a lil' too easy anyway.'

"Good idea. You and flower boy can take up the rear. I'll keep covering the front. We should keep close regardless. Both flanks need 'ta be able to cover each other when shit inevitably hits the fan again. Oh, and don't...don't call us 'wayfarers.' Makes you sound gay as hell. Just call us players." Graves wasn't a fan of the original plan to keep themselves split into two fireteams anyway. It left them exposed and weakened. Splitting up was never a particularly bright idea in a dungeon; and now that the monsters were using ambush tactics, the danger was multiplied several times over. "Yo, Orchid!" The Blood Knight shouted, turning to Ochre. The craftsman was going through the rather disgusting process of picking apart the corpses for materials. Graves grimaced at the sight, but he didn't comment on it. "I want you in the back with the little girl. Keep our rear covered. You think you can handle that, flower boy?"

The team's resident pyromaniac and psychopath might've gotten on Graves' nerves to the point where he wanted to wring her neck, but she had a point...for once in her life. They shouldn't be feeling pain. Not with the same intensity that followed when Graves was struck by a goblin's arrow earlier, anyway. It was certainly cause for concern. The tank had reacted violently to the sensation. It was...alarming, to feel the barbs strike him and lacerate his flesh. Graves didn't fight like the other tanks. Rael was swift enough to avoid most blows. Ochre and Vulcan wore armor that protected them from harm. Graves? His power to survive came from magical potions. He regenerated his wounds by bleeding his enemies. Graves was exposed to every crushing hit of a club, and every biting stab from a blade or arrowhead. He was a tough son of a bitch, but not that tough.

Graves would be damned if he complained and showed weakness to the rest of these maggots, though. He tore the barbs from his back, blood spurting out. Each broken arrow brought an angry curse to Graves's lips, and a grimace to his face. He cleared his naked flesh of the arrows, allowing their resident healer to scar over the wounds. Everyone was shrugging off the passive magic of the dungeon like it was nothing. Graves remained silent on the subject, though he bore an increasingly sour disposition- nothing unusual for the hardened man. 'Easy for you all to say when you're barely getting hit.' He thought to himself with no small amount of contempt for how easily his party members were shrugging off this awful new sensation. The old system never hurt this much.

"Alright. We've spent enough time jerking ourselves off here. Let's fuckin' move out." The crass tank ordered. If they actually followed or not, Graves didn't much care. He took his pike in his fist and started back down the dark halls of the dungeon anyway, even if he was going alone. They would follow; that's how they worked. All it took was a little bit of yelling and some physical prompting, and Graves could get anyone moving along.