TemplarKnight07

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

Mmm a demon character. That sounds like mighty fun

@stmoore23

Now just to figure out how to throw him into the party. Heh

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

@Belle

Dagon turned his head at the two ogres, the first two different faces he had seen in who knows how long. He couldn't stop his eyes from widening, like ever-enduring Odysseus must have felt after finally reaching his Ithica, it was as if a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders, though curiosity and apprehension soon followed in quick succession. He'd endured his punishment, but what awaited him now at the hands of his Queen?

He stood up on his own power, slowly but steadily. He looked at the ogres with his icy blue eyes, his voice raspy and the words almost sounding unfamiliar from lack of use, but spoke he did:

". . . Then I stand ready to see her."

The ogres escorted him out of his cell, the two Goblin jailors were packing up their gambling games, he knew that they had used such games to kill the endless shifts watching him in between sessions, though now relived of their duty, they were also leaving the dungeon for now. The two looked at him, their expressions not betraying the Queen's intentions anymore than the ogres, Dagon wagered it was a coin toss, either she finally had decided to kill him since she'd found a suitable replacement as the Winter Knight, or she wasn't. Either way, he'd find out shortly.

Though the Winter Court was certainly not the brightest place in Faerie, its main chambers certainly looked a lot brighter than its dungeons. He felt had almost forgotten what the natural vistas of light were and how the court looked above, but as he kept walking, he grew more confident in his familiarity. Many things in the Fae world were timeless, and the Winter Court was no exception.

The ogres kept a brisk pace, leading him through the winding geometry of corridors to take the long way to where he guessed he would be meeting his Queen, her bed chambers. Very few Fae of any significant rank ever set foot in that room, and most were stopped at the door to relay messages or await orders. But Dagon had awakened there so long ago, knowing that he had been a Knight on the mortal plane during a time of great strife was all he could remember of any time before, and that had been told to him by his Queen who gave him his new name and made him more than human.

She had granted him oblivion for whatever his past had been, and power beyond mortal reckoning, and in return he had failed her. He had cursed the ancient and malignant sword which had tempted him, but he blamed himself even more. He'd been the one who was too weak to resist Sioc's influence, the sword had merely behaved as it normally did around weak and potential vessels for its ancient spirit.

But enough remembrance of the past, what was done could not be undone, and the present was what mattered now. So he cleared his mind as the ogres stopped before the chamber doors. One knocked twice and slowly opening the door, presented the still bloodied and ragged Winter Knight to his leige. Dagon's eyes widened slightly and felt his breath be taken away, for Arys had dressed exactly as she had so long ago, the first clear image in his head after the impenetrable haze his earlier memories. She had taken his breath away then just as she did now, and he suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed that the ogres had not seen fit to even allow to make himself decent or at least more presentable.

He had hardly even noticed Sioc yet, bound in ice beside her, but he refused to give it any attention yet.

He looked Arys straight in the eyes and mustered his best voice in his current state, his hands clasped in front of him, managing to keep the cracks out of his voice this time, though it still sounded parched.

"You summoned me, your grace?"

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

Out of (probably stupid) curiosity, is there any particular reason why no one is giving details? If it's something you want to have secret until later that's fine, but it kinda bothers me that various statements got me all confused and curious and now the problem is resolved -- but I'm still confused and the resolution is not being shared. Not saying MUST HAVE SPOILERS! (though I might say that too -- just not quite so seriously), but saying "Oh, Dagon arrived later" or "Arys didn't have her heart frozen at that time" or some quick 1-3 sentence summary would be nice now that I'm all interested, if it's not spoileriffic.

In other news, I just had my heart ripped out by tonight's rp session, and I am in no condition to reply for Sini. Actual tears were shed. And this is on top of the other friend that has been aggressively shipping her char and my char form Fallen London so much that she infected me, and we're just tormenting those two (and ourselves in the process) for the past...month or so. x.x THE FEEEEEELS. *explodes*

I will look again when I wake up tomorrow.

@shylarah

To give you the short sum-up, look over at Belle's CS and you'll see basically the results of our PMs. We resolved it so that we don't have to fiddle around with precise years for concepts and events that really don't matter to the plot (in terms of NEEDING to be specific) of the RP other than to setup character's positions.

Keeps it nice and easy for everyone involved.

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

I AM ALIVE once again. LARP week went well, we kinda got our position back that we lost in the last event. I got killed two times and asked for IC marriage. i had to nope my char outta that XD

also@TemplarKnight07
Hy! We have not talked much yet but I at least wanted to say hy to you^^

@Ojo chan 42

Nice to meet you.

Black Cinders [High Casual]

Placeholder post for my app, will likely type it up within the next couple days.

Balthier Oisin

Name: Balthier Oisin


Balthier in his black coat and usual attire while travelling and performing, unarmed.
Appearance: 32, Balthier inherited the Baruvadi looks of his mother over the Lorintine looks of his father. Dark brown hair, pale complexion (though now tanned from time spent travelling in the sun), an slim features. He's built more like a runner than a body-builder, and his voice is eloquent and clear. He keeps himself shaved and features no visible scars, though he does carry several on his back chest, and legs.

He likes to dress fashionably in classic Baruvadi style, with hints of Paeric and Revossan styles as well. Though that's part of the deception, he's had the clothing tailor made to hide the chain mail and leather beneath it.

When travelling, he often carries his lute and rucksack openly, with a sabre and a Paeric-model Rifle stashed within, and nearly a dozen throwing daggers up his sleeves and in the lining of his coat.

Biography: Born in the vassal state of Baruvad in 799, Balthier was born a bastard of a Baruvadi prostitute and a Lorintine Knight-Priest in the city of Dounby. His father denying Balthier as his son and threatening his mother with death if she ever brought a case before a Lorintine Magistrate, Balthier was mostly raised among Baruvadi and never really experienced or learned much of his Lorintine heritage other than trouble with the Lorintine occupiers from time to time.

In his short time in Dounby he lived as a pick-pocket, a thief, and eventually a street performer when he became old enough and competent to play instrument and learn music in the Baruvadi tradition. He dreamed of becoming a Bard and leaving his city to see the world and earn enough money for him and his mother to get away from the oppressive state of Lorinth.

Unfortunately, his dreams did not pan out into reality due to circumstances beyond his control. In 809, Dounby suffered an outbreak of the Undead. A necromantic cult in striving to awaken a vamphiir they thought rested within a certain crypt within the city, merely succeeded in awakening a small army of Undead, beasts and humans alike that been buried in the city's largest cemetery. Content just as well with their success at bringing forth such a large host, the Necromancers unleashed the Undead upon Dounby, causing chaos and turmoil within the city as many were murdered in their beds or on the streets before the city bells could even start sounding an alarm. The Lorintine garrison was taken almost completely by surprise, and eventually the city commander evacuated what knights and all Lornith officials he could to the city's inner keep, leaving the Baruvadi and anyone else left outside to defend themselves in the city proper while they tried to hold out in a besieged keep and await aid.

A week of murder, plunder, resistance, and terror ensued as the Baruvadi and everyone else left outside in the city fled, hid, or fought for their lives against an ever-expanding horde of Undead, with the Necromancers raising more by the hour. Balthier had fled from alley to alley, ruined building to building in search of his mother whom he hoped had escaped, but never managed to find in the stricken city. On the 8th day, the renowned Order of Cinders came in force just ahead of Lorintine reinforcments with a whole company of Hunters and several of their Pyromancers to cleanse the city. Facing magicians even more powerful than they, and fearing for their lives, the Necromancers rallied the Undead into a massive assault against the combined attackers, and the two forces clashed near the city gates. The Hunters and prepared Knights cut a swathe through the Undead with the more skilled Pyromancers wielding the very flames from the burning buildings of the city into streams of fire, fusing them with the red and black-specked Ebonfire which was a signature of the Order, that turned whole packs of Undead into ash. With a couple hours, the Necromancers had been killed and the undead stragglers being hunted down and burned on large pyres.

Disgusted by the Lorintine garrison's apathy for the local Baruvadi population, some Hunters of the Order stuck around to assist in some basic rebuilding and reorganizing efforts. Though in truth they were also on the look out for potential new recruits. Such disasters as these always yielded fresh candidates for The Order in the form of orphans, drifters, or displaced and disgruntled soldiers. Balthier, having found no trace of his mother and presuming her to be dead somewhere, and seeing no future in Dounby for him, took the initiative to make himself noticed by one of the leather coat-clad Hunters, whom promptly recommended the boy to their Hunter-Captain and added Balthier's name to the growing roster of a couple dozen new recruits the ravaged city of Dounby was bringing up.

He underwent training alongside his fellow recruits in the House of Fire, and was officially granted the rank of Hunter in 814, earning the right to wear the black coat and brass pin. Upon which he took his choice of the armoury and set upon the path, travelling the world in search of Undead to kill as was his mission. Though he had become a Hunter, he still managed to partially fulfill his dream of becoming a Bard in that he still learned to play the Lute and practice his singing voice for reciting ballads. He had graced the recruits at the House of Fire with some performances at times, though most of these he performed on the road, in towns where his business as a Hunter was not necessarily his foremost concern. His fame as a Bardic Hunter grew as a result in many nations.

That's not to say he hasn't relished his office, or taking his vow. He has loved hunting for the Undead in all of their varieties ever since the nightmare at Dounby, and he wished as much as any other Order member to see the Undead and all practitioners of necromancy wiped clean from the world.

Thus, he's walked the road ever since, and has visited just about every nation in the world at least once, picking up the odd souvenir and memories along the way as he performs his job. Though his favourite places have been Paerium and Revosso, the former of which he was just finishing doing a job in before getting the summons to head to Isamanca.

Personality: Balthier is a jovial person. His bawdy sense of humour, sharp wit, and silver tongue are enough to woo people over to him, or at least steal the attention of a room. A fan of deception and intrigue, he prefers less overt approaches to accomplish his goals, liking to look at the long game rather than the short one. He's got a soft spot for the downtrodden in many societies, and a prejudice against Lorintine from their historical treatment of him, his people, and his mother.

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

<Snipped quote by TemplarKnight07>

Does that mean your not changing his CS to reflect whatever that might be? Doesn't that make his CS inaccurate and potentially confusing to new members?

@Prince of Seraphs

I'll touch it up at some point here, the point is that it has been resolved and its time to move forward.

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

The Under-Republic of Rodents

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Rattus Regius Ignatius Fell-Eye looked out upon the assembled mass of the united Rodent Army before him, The Vermintide. It had been many generations since a Vermintide had been called, and few living rodents could boast that they'd seen one, let alone participated. It was a call to war unlike the raiding campaigns which clans organized independently, or calls to defend the Under-Republic from invaders, this was an offensive campaign of complete and total war, and one which sought to deliver retribution upon the races and their empires and nations above whom had mistreated them, and it was a war that would not stop until either there were not enough capable rodents left to persecute it, or until their vengeance was satisfied.

Ignatius had gotten the approval of the fellow members of the Ring of Rodents, whom all stood about him in their full war regalia on his raised platform before the gates of Petrus' Maw, the largest single gateway into the Under-Republic and out into the world above. For as far as the eye could see into the massive Ratway into the mountains were hundreds of thousands, if not millions of Rodents, from the small Rattus Commenus packs with their shepherds, the upright Rattus Faber who were either organized into their clan units or Vermin Units if they were regulars, and the comparatively giant Rattus Gigantai who all stood out from their kin, Bubonic Philosophers close by.

The call had been sent out a week ago into the tunnels from the capital of Verminia, and basically everyone who would be coming to seek glory, riches, and the chance to kill their former oppressors was here, so now Ignatius stepped forward, and the unfathomable legions of Rodents all quieted and looked up at him, their whiskers twitching and green eyes gleaming.

"My fellow Rodents, today we set forth on a campaign that most of us have never lived to see in our short lifetimes. A Vermintide has not graced this world's surface in so long that most of them have likely forgotten what it is and why it used to be a word spoken of in terror and fear. But that changes now! We will teach them that we are not merely pests to crushed and exterminated, that the descendants of the oppressed Rodent forebears will not merely stand by and let the murderers of our kin around the world go about unpunished!"

The assembled army of Rodents was yelling affirmatives after each of Ignatius' sentences by now.

"I will be honest with you, my kin. Many of you likely will not return to the Under-Republic. None of us are exempt when death calls to us, no more than our enemies, and many of us will fall before this campaign is finished. But you all know who I am, and that I'm not in the business to throw Rodent lives away needlessly, I'm in the business of making sure we win, for only a fool fights a battle he knows he cannot win. And though the surface races may call me foolish, I'm standing in front of the largest and greatest army of Rodents that this world has ever seen! We will show that no matter how many of us fall, there will always be others to take up the spear, bow, or sword!"

The Vermintide's shouts are deafening in the echoing tunnels, the cheers reaching likely to the deepest foundations of the World's End Mountains. With a flourish of ringing Adamanthine, Ignatius draws Retribution, the cutlass signifying the Rattus Regius' authority as Master of the Vermintide, and used to strike at the enemies of the Under-Republic and all Rodent-kind.

"Now, as our ancestors before us have done, as Rattus Regius of the Under-Republic, and with the authority of the Ring of Rodents, I formally declare upon the world above, and all who have transgressed against Rodent-kind once again. Let us not stop in our conquest until we are satisfied! March, Rodents! March and let us teach them why their ancestors feared the Vermintide!

With that, and with a upward flourish of Retribution to thunderous cheers and war cries, the mighty gates of Petrus' Maw opened wide, and the Vermintide began its march out into the sunlit world above, with Ignatius and the Ring of Rodents hopping down to join them and the multitude of their kin march and file out around them into the massive swarm formations of old. It would take 3/4 of a day for the massive gates to shut again as the entire army made its way out and started the long march east across mostly uninhabited wilderness that cordoned off their mountain homes from the outside world.

Many miles ahead, they would find their enemies and show them war as had not been seen in generations, a new Vermintide had begun.

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

Ibzan, The Urbane Devil

Name/Nicknames: Ibzan, aka "The Urbane Devil"

aliases (modern ones): Damien Delroy, Theron Smith, Ricardo Ortega, Pietro Polini, Isabella Francesca, Veronica Christianson, Lillith Maltese

Race: Demon

Age: Appeared age is usually in the late 20s, to early 30s (though this can change depending on what he wants to do, these are his most commonly appeared ages). His true age is unknown (He never goes around talking about his true age, though for those knowledgable in Daemonology, they would see that his name has appeared among some of the oldest mentions of Demons, putting him potentially several millennia old.)

Appearance: In the rare times he is in his "true" form, Ibzan lives up to the legendary images of Demons. A mad fusion of beast and man, he has the tail and legs of a goat, curved black horns like a ram, the head, torso and arms of a well-muscled human (male or female based on what form he's changing from), and the wings of a large bat. His eyes blaze like pure hell-fire indicating his status as a Demon, his fangs become slightly elongated like a beast, and what hair he has becomes shaggy. His breath also smells of brimstone.

Otherwise, Ibzan takes his form however he chooses to be when he wishes to appear as a human. His form has changed countless times over the centuries, even changing sexes several times. Though commonalities across his forms do appear: he always takes the form of a young adult human of great beauty or handsomeness, and usually takes on features that will make him stand out in a crowd. Could be a unique hair colour, supermodel physique, tattoos, risque clothing, or otherwise some kind of form that will make him appear enticing or intriguing to people of a given area and depending on his current tastes.

For the 50s, he particularly likes to take on forms that go against the American ideals of conservatism for the decade. Leather jackets, skimpy clothing, blue jeans, and longer and less-kept hair are his more trademark aspects of his look currently. Though when the mood takes him to try for even more delicious souls to tempt, he can clean himself up very nicely in a suit or dress.

Personality: Enticing, addictive, intriguing, exciting, and tempting all can perfectly describe Ibzan's outward personality. He is temptation made flesh, his handsome and beautiful forms masking a cunning, lewd, and ancient mind that has the capacity for patience as much as boldness. Always on the prowl for the next new high, the next prey to succumb to him and his schemes and temptations, and the next soul to tempt into an eternity of pleasure in exchange for their own damnation. Caring little for the particulars of mortal affairs, he picks and chooses sides at his leisure, if he's even bothered to pick a side at all, as in most cases he's content to merely watch the show with his latest conquest unless he has a personal stake. He is drawn to chaos and the everything that comes with it, including the people who thrive in it, and finds a stable life and clingy people boring.

A being of few mortal friends, one has to impress him to be worthy of his respect and not merely seen as another potential prospect for him. Though he always keeps to his word, one must be careful of any promises or deals made with him, as he'll always try to find a way to make it benefit him more. Not even his friends get favours for free, as he considers the fact that he could be spending his time seeking greater pleasures.

Bio: A primordial Demon of Hell, Ibzan was lived almost since time immemorial, though he's only spent the last two thousand years roughly on Earth. He was drawn to the mortal plane out of the desire to experience physical pleasures and to be able to share such pleasures with others, whether they freely accepted or were tempted by him into partaking . . . Actually, he was summoned by a Demonic Cult who wanted to obtain unfathomable Earthly pleasure and saw that summoning a Demon into the mortal world was the best way to do it. Granted physical form, Ibzan has walked the Earth ever since, moving to countless cultures and places all over Eurasia and Africa, sometimes by choice, others by immediate need or desire brought forth by particularly enticing events for a being such as him, and others by necessity as on and off throughout this time Demon-Hunters have hounded him out of more than a few places to try and send him back and out of the mortal plane.

He became known in Daemonologist circles as The Urbane Devil, for his uncanny ability to be able to hide in plain sight in massive throngs of people via his keen understanding of people, but mostly because of his silver tongue which had become infamous for seducing, tricking, and tempting all manner of individuals who were thought to be more steadfast against temptation.

Ibzan came over to America in the 1800s after America started to show promise as a fledgling nation on the world stage, and saw the puritanical and extreme conservative roots of many of the fledging communities ripe for the challenge of sowing seeds of discontent and debauchery. He was not disappointed, as the fledging nation partook in a great many conflicts and wars and civil unrest throughout its short history, with plenty of places to see and people to tempt. Whether it was in the urban east or the frontier west, Ibzan went all the America, the new land of opportunity was certainly a paradise for a Demon looking to get away from the Old World, and experience all kinds of new sensations and pleasures. He came to admire the nation so much that he hasn't left the continent since his arrival in the 1800s.

Though that's not entirely true, he was extremely tempted by the World Wars, but found that the chaos over there in mainland Europe dangerous, and in any case it was so tremendous he didn't even have to leave America to taste it, so he stuck around and feed off of the war time emotions of hysteria, fear, and occasional pandemonium.

He loved how the post-war period was shaping up even better though. A generation of war veterans who wanted nothing but to forget the horrors of the wars they'd enduring, along with a nation that wanted a return to normalcy only made the prospects of stirring up some fresh debauchery and trouble against such ideas all the more tempting for the old demon, and so he set out on the road looking for the appropriate place to try his luck, and as he traveled west, just as he had over a century ago, he smelled something very inviting on the winds. It tasted of conflict, encroaching chaos, but also of people seeking escape from their boring lives, the yearning for change and something to add a little spice for their otherwise plain meals. Ibzan heard Santa Somabra calling to him, and he would answer.

Other: TBW

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

Dagon

Far beneath the Winter Court, at its deepest foundations lie some of the darkest and coldest dungeons in all of the Fae World. A place reserved for some of the Courts' most hated individuals, they are places of extreme torment and pain. A couple Goblin Torturers staff the area, as no more than a couple are needed. Only one prisoner currently has such a black mark upon them that they should suffer such a fate, and that is the current Winter Knight, Ser Dagon Feldspar.

For decades Dagon had been bound down there, constantly suffering at the sentence of his beloved Queen. He had not spoken a word ever since his internment, merely bearing his punishment without reproach. Sure, he had cried out and screamed in pain at first at the daily pint of sacrifice he was to pay, but now it had gotten to the point where it was mechanical. He merely winced at the lacerations, lashings, and bone chilling cold that he was subjected to. Even before his internment, his skin had been blue as a frost-bitten corpse, though now it bore the scars of repeated torture, though his superhuman physique had not deteriorated much due to the ancient magics sustaining he through what would otherwise be lethal torture.

He bore the punishment without complaint because he knew he had failed his Queen, he hadn't possessed the power or control she had thought he had when she thought she needed it most, but he also knew that if she had wanted him killed, she had the full power to do it without need of torturers or even a separate executioner. This whole ordeal was a lesson for him, in the only way the icy Queen of Winter knew how, and he would learn from it, not be cowed and beg for mercy.

His latest ordeal was just recently finished, his jailors having laid him down in his cell, crystalized blood cracking like glass around his body and cutting him further, but he would not cry out. Instead he merely lay there and tried to close his icy blue eyes and get some sleep before the next day's round. To be honest, he had lost count of the days long ago, and had stopped caring about time.

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

@Belle@BlackPanther So...we're going with she's seen him every moot, and there have been moots however frequently?

With Dagon, I only know what was posted on the thread, and at last check it still says her heart was frozen -- which is why I mentioned the discrepancy between Belle's proposal and the timeline. If you've straightened that out since, then it's no longer something relevant, but the sheet should be updated. I'm also curious if Arys was completely stoic before freezing her heart, as is mentioned when Dagon sees her. @TemplarKnight07

As for moving the plot forward and what does and doesn't affect it, I have nothing to post right now as I'm waiting on a reply. I also find that personally, knowing a timeline and little twiddly details actually lets me write better, and it's the minor things with huge, unanticipated effects that I like best. Butterfly causing a typhoon, etc. That doesn't need to be your style, of course. But when inconsistencies turn up, discussion is vital. My personal feeling is that discussion of the world you play in is a huge part of any rp -- and communication is important for any group. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you by chattering. =/

EDITED because ninja'd

@shylarah

I'm gonna be changing Dagon's Bkgrd slightly to fit in with what we've agreed upon in PMs. Just wait for it.

EDIT: Scratch that, we're just gonna stick with what we resolved via PMs.