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    1. Tancuras 10 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Watch the sky.
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Bio

Name: Rhys

Gender: Dude

Age: Legal to drink anywhere in the world

Class: Samurai

Abilities:

Argest Allegory - Writes a roleplay that blinds all foes because the font is too bright.

Oaken Onslaught - Cleaves the horizon with an axe. Super effective against firewood.

False Flight - Jumps so high it seems like flying, but only if you can't see the wire in the background.

Cordial Connection - Magically connects to any WiFi access point, as long as it has no password.

Most Recent Posts

Hey! Let me know if this is all good.


Name:

Taric Vesero, “The Butcher Lord”


Age:

42


Race:

Human


Appearance:

Taric is a man of moderate size, standing near six feet with a slim build. Loose, tattered clothing adorns his skin, dark breeches and coat covered by a threadbare hooded cloak, deep brown in color. A mop of graying blonde hair frames his face, cut in rough ends near his shoulders. His green eyes are narrow and creased, a contrast to a small, straight nose and smooth lips on a pale face that might have once been handsome. Taric is usually seen with a large travelling pack and never seen without his sword belt, with a blade on each hip.


Personality:

Taric is often compared to a wild animal. He bears no social stigma, no method when it comes to interacting with others; he simply does as his impulses demand. He often ignores the common rabble, but when someone takes his interest, he will immediately pursue them. Most of Taric’s pursuits end when his target is either robbed, killed, or scandalized. Occasionally a cause will sweep him up, and within such a cause he can be docile, or even cooperative, with a goal to seek and keep him from the machinations of his mind. When Taric is calm he is often dire, speaking little and more often mumbling cryptic secrets.


Morality/Religion:

Taric has no thought to spare for religion, or anything beyond the scope of his physical being. He simply analyzes his surroundings, and acts on instinct and whim. His view on the concepts of good and evil are quite vague, and he believes instead in action and reaction. The descended gods are only another obstacle in his reality, one which may or may not intrigue him on any given day.


Biography:

To many, Taric is known as the Butcher Lord. It is common knowledge that he was once a noble in service to King Elrin, and a fairly amiable one at that. It is also common knowledge that his wife, Frejna Vesero, was lost to a fever, and it is believed that her death is what broke his mind. After several months of confining himself to his keep, Taric invited many other lords to dinner, lords whom he was very close to. Taric slaughtered them all that night, hacking away their limbs in a frenzied trance, and did not stop until the last survivors of his servants fled the estate.

It is unclear what happened to Taric after that night, but nearly a year later rumors began to surface. He was leading a large band of men, preying on outlying nobles and amassing a larger army. Taric proved a formidable foe and expert strategist despite his madness, but his men were untrained and too few, and after several skirmishes with the bannermen of lesser lords, Taric’s rebellion was quelled. He fled into hiding once more.

The First Descent put a true end to Taric’s campaign. Over the subsequent years, his band retired to fighting the extraplanar beings that invaded the land. It was a losing battle. After a failed expedition to a fallen town to recover resources, Taric lost the remainder of his army, and has since retreated to the outskirts of Urenda.


Other Notes:

Class:

Dual Swordsman


Skill Points:

0 / 7


Weapons/Tools:

Longsword (free)

Shortsword (1 SP)


Skills/Abilities:

Fighting Style: Dual Swordsman - Taric wields a blade in each hand, dancing like a whirlwind of razors. (free)

Magic Style: Hel's Gate - Somewhere in Taric's mad ramblings, a dark magic infected him and manifested itself in otherworldly chants and incantations. These incantations open a channel of mana within Taric's body known has Hel's Gate. The Gate's power possesses his mind, shattering rational thought, but allows him to call forth dark energy. This dark energy alters the fabric of the mortal plane in some way, often manifesting in illusions of the mind. The more it is used, the greater its power becomes, and the further Taric slips into insanity. (1 SP)

Natural Affinity: Quick Reflexes (1 SP)

Skill: Military Strategy (1 SP)


Magical Abilities:

Swallow Dance: Casts multiple illusions of his blades, confusing opponents as he slashes. Creates 2 illusion blades per slash for 3 slashes. (1 SP)

Shadow Mist: Covers a wide area in a black fog, obscuring vision. Covers a 30 foot radius around the caster and lasts for 1 minute. (1 SP)

Nighteye: Enables night vision. Lasts 1 hour. (1 SP)


General Equipment:

Travelling Pack
Wineskin
Coin Purse
Skinning Knife
Rations
Ragged gasps shake Seumas awake and he flails about, kicking away the sheets tangled in his limbs. Sweat drenches the bed and his clothes alike. His breathing calms as he realizes where he is. Home.

I wasnae in any war, he thinks. And now I'm glad I fer it. The impact of the German bullets still rattles within his chest. He shifts to sit at the edge of his bed, scooping his flask off the floor and taking a quick swig.

Rays of the morning sun fall between the blinds on the window beside him, illuminating specks of dust in the air. His home is mostly barren, with only old books and tools to dress the walls. A cold wood stove sits against a nearby wall, and a burnt-out oil lamp hangs from the low ceiling. His favorite toy, a long Scottish blade with a leather-bound hilt, is propped against the wall, but he dismisses it quickly. Nae mood for such havers today.

Seumas then realizes the time, casting his gaze on the wind-up clock beside his bed. He's almost late.

"Crivets!" He curses aloud, quickly pulling a pair of oily jeans on. He steps quickly into the next room and to the sink. Copper pipes rattle as he turns the tap, and he splashes his face with cold water. A few wet-handed pats and his sandy brown hair is satisfactory, and he buttons his shirt snugly against his well-built frame. A thick beard paints his jaw. It'll have to do fer without a trim.

Seumas quickly makes his way outside, pausing only to grab his wallet, keys and flask. Before his garage is a cream-colored Renault GS, a new acquisition of his. He steps inside, starts the engine, and makes his way into the city to find this "John Smith".
Just reiterating my interest. Working on a CS right now.
Gonna let @RBYDark have a go before I do anything drastic :P
Done, sorry for the delay.
"Lass, if yer offerin' a proper weapon I cannae turn ye down," Seumas says, slinging the Lee Enfield over his shoulder and taking the revolver. "Private what's-'er-name seems to have an idea, let's get after her!" He then climbs the ladder after Sofie, checking his surroundings from above the trench.



I hope so :P
Done editing for the luck check and spot hidden check. Failed both. If this system wanted high rolls, I'd be doing really well lol.

Seumas checks the end of the rifle for a bayonet, but it does not possess one.

"Crivets! I'm out!" Seumas mutters loudly. His eyes scan the mud for anything useful - a shovel, another rifle, anything.

I have a translator for that accent lol. And will do with the hiders!
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