TemplarKnight07

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

Don't worry about me, I'll still be around.

Fae Courtis: The Wylde Hunt (Reboot)

I'm almost regretting ever having made a sheet because of how fucked up this has all gotten to and how tense its gotten since I've tried to come in.

I just wanna RP and not fuck around with the minutia of a casual RP CS forever, and I'm sure not too many others do either, judging by the discussion and various reactions.

I understand getting this stuff all set in its proper place and abiding by what's already been set, but seriously, that's up to the GM and Co-GMs of an RP to sort out and have the final say on. Not saying people don't understand that, but that its just what it looks like.

I mean, I don't know what else to do to make my character make sense and actually make a character I'd have fun playing when at every single turn it seems I'm getting bombarded with stuff that doesn't work.

IDK . . . I'm partially wishing I hadn't bothered trying to join into an RP already this developed, and I'm partially wishing we can just drop all the back and forth OOC drama and get back to actually RPing.

Because seriously, this is 82 posts in to a casual RP! Does EVERYTHING you put in your CSs (particularly the stuff that pertains to precise years rather than vague numbers) have immediate bearing now in-character, or was it mostly just to establish what and who your character is in the first couple posts? Mine certainly is the former. Its merely to establish who the character was, is, and where they are leading up to the why the hell they haven't been seen or mentioned the entire RP.

Because I'm sorry, there was no handy guide for me to reference timelines or events when making the CS, nor based off of the PM conversation I had was this meant to be an RP where we had to fiddle around with numbers constantly.

IDK, I'm just ranting now and really just want to RP more than anything.

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

<Snipped quote by TemplarKnight07>

Seeing as you are basically notSkaven and there are no more world's edge mountains, would you mind basically being everywhere like the beast men only underground and able to literally pop up anywhere?

@ClocktowerEchos

I also noticed the notice you put about that on the map.

I mean, it works. I just wonder if I should mark major "known" entrances into the Under-Republic like Petrus's Maw. I mean, its an enormous gate carved into the side of a mountain. But yeah, otherwise there's tunnels and passages leading into the Under-Republic basically around most mountain ranges. Ignatius just decided to start by sending the whole Vermintide out through the main gate.

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

I live to serve and obey! Alrighty folks, doors open then, who wants what?

@RisenDead

I believe I marked my section earlier, but if that wasn't seen, its on my sheet in terms of what I had intended, though honestly its wherever we placed The World's End Mountains as being.

EDIT: Fuck, didn't see the new map, will change it shortly.

Black Cinders [High Casual]

<Snipped quote by Varromere>

Now that would give them both a person to hate and though possibly forming something of a bond, perhaps Xho feeling incredibly protective like an older brother for Talia, to somehow make up for the sins of his lineage. @RyuShura How do you like the idea?

@TemplarKnight07 I could see the two as kind of buddies, having done a few hunts together and Xho listening and laughing at the bard hunters tales.

@The Narrator

Bit late on the uptake here on my part, but yeah, let's say they've worked together on hunts when their paths have crossed and got along well as partners.

Black Cinders [High Casual]

Just personal curiosity, do all Hunters know at least some basic Pyromancies, or is Pyromancy solely the domain of the Keeper of Flames and all of the more specially trained Pyromancers?

Black Cinders [High Casual]

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.

Black Cinders [High Casual]

@Argetlam350Welcome Lethodus of Lorinth, accepted!

@RyuShuraSmall thing - Hunter-Captain, not Captain-Hunter. Nitpicking aside - welcome to our resident warlock Talia!

Warlocks and daemonic magic are largely viewed with suspicion and fear, as they have a history of cruel users (crueler than necromancers, really) and addicts to power. My friends, take that as you will. I look forward to the discussions taking place, thank you @BurningCold for getting the ball rolling.

What if Xho's noble father is the warlord that tortured Talia? @The Narrator

@TemplarKnight07Let me know when Balthier is ready! :)

@LucidnonsensePM me with your ideas. :)

@Varromere

Balthier is actually ready for your review now.

@The Narrator Quite possibly, we could work something out.

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

The air of Santa Somabra may have smelled slightly polluted and unremarkable to some, but to Ibzan the air smelled like a bakery full of pies, and he intended to make himself the devourer of as much of the stock as he could.

It had been nearly a century since The Urbane Devil had graced this section of America, he couldn't even recall if the city's foundations had even been set when he was last here. But those particulars were irrelevant to him, as he had eternity and time for the most part becomes meaningless to eternal beings eventually.

What mattered now was what to do? Ibzan had rented an small, unassuming apartment in the Red Light District from a building that he was pretty sure was owned by one of the crime families of the city. The Red Light District was the pounding heart, the roasting meat, the churning oven that was bringing forth the greatest sensations which the Demon was sensing. He could realistically just stay in his room and take in all of the multitudes of energy off of the flurry of emotions about him, but then where would be the fun in that? He had rented the apartment under the alias Damien Delroy, where he'd taken the form of a young male Greaser-looking fellow with boyish features but well defined muscles with slicked back hair, a leather jacket, sunglasses, and blue jeans.

Ultimately, he decided to "ease" into his new surroundings, get a feel for the local scene, try some of the local drugs, and maybe grab a few easy picking to bring home and have fun with. For unlike some of his kin, Ibzan didn't really relish constantly taking souls left and right. He found it became monotonous fast and sucked all the enjoyment out of what he was doing. Plus, finding a bunch of soulless husks stumbling around tends to draw the attention of Hunters to one's true self really fast.

No, Ibzan loved the long games, the people who kept coming back and making his days interesting. If they became boring, then he'd forcibly take their souls, but whether it got to that point or where they actually willingly gave themselves over to him made little difference, he knew he'd always win once he had his prey hooked. He was the ultimate drug.

So, he decided to keep his current form, took a fresh bankroll of cash he had withdrawn on the way through town and put it into his pocket as he adjusted his shades and stepped out in the Red Light District. He didn't even have to walk past two alleys before he found a Drug Dealer selling a whole mix of very illegal and exotic narcotics. Ibzan wagered he was also gang-affiliated, no way a dealer would be hawking their wares so publicly if they weren't protected.

"What you got that's hot?"

The Dealer pulled out a set of three different drugs like a magician with cards.

"Got Fairy Dust, Runez, and Demon's Blood that hot as lava right now, man."

Ibzan's eyebrows shot up from under his glasses at the last one, even though he was unfamiliar with any of them. Demon's Blood? Was it made from real Demons, or was someone trying to sell some cheap knock-off? Either way, he had to see what it was like.

"Give me a taste of that blood."

The Dealer dabbed a drop out of the vial of blood red liquid into a eye-dropper before handing it to Ibzan to squeezed the drops of the narcotic onto his tongue and smacked his lips as he tasted it and tried to discern its effects. He felt a slight rush of testosterone and energy flow through him, but not much else. Had the makers developed an energy drink mixed with hormones? What the fuck was this stuff? It certainly wasn't anything close to his own or his kin's blood, though it was an admirable mimicry. But then, he wasn't the intended audience for this drug, was he? Thinking thoughtfully for a moment, Ibzan handed the dropper back and took his bankroll out, counting through the notes.

"How much for a gallon?"

This time it was the Dealer's turn to be shocked.

"Whoa ho! Man, I appreciate your offer, but you see me hauling around any gallon jugs in this coat?"

The disguised Demon sighed irritatedly, and looked up from his roll, taking his shades off, and imbuing a slight bit of his power into his voice, pouring some willful suggestion into it.

"How much, and how long to get it to me?"

The Dealer blinked as if he got dust flung in his eyes and rubbed the side of his head as if he got a small headache.

"Ummm. . . it'll be 10 grand, and an hour."

Ibzan bit his lip and counted out five thousand in c-notes, pouring suggestion into his voice again as he looked back up.

"Your stuff's not THAT good. Five grand, and you'll bring it to me in a gallon milk jug to that strip club just up the street there within the hour. I'll be waiting with the two most beautiful women in the house, name's Damien Delroy."

With the weak-willed Dealer rendered speechless from the mesmeric onslaught again, his nose dripping blood a bit this time, Ibzan simply slipped the selected wad of bills into the dealer's pocket, took a rag out of his jean pocket to wipe the man's nose quickly, and patted him on the back as the Dealer started to mumble incoherently his new instructions and walk off in what Ibzan assumed was the direction of his drug den. He'd stop babbling within a minute, and act more natural, but his brain wasn't used to being forcibly handled by a demon's power, so there was still some resistance mechanically.

Normally Ibzan didn't like forcing his will on people like that, but he was impatient and was irritated by how amateur the dealer was.

Meanwhile, with that plan set on the back-burner for now, Ibzan turned in search of his next plan for the night, to get some fresh new delightful playthings under his belt. He licked his lips, still tasting the drops of "Demon's blood" as he put his shades back on, and walked down towards the strip club he's seen out of the corner of his eye just down the block.

Black Cinders [High Casual]

Lethodus

Name: Lethodus

Appearance: At the age of 33, Lethodus stands a little over 6' 2'' in height with moderate bulk of muscle. His mess of near jet black hair and beard are peppered with a slight glimmer of silver and gray. His sky blue eyes stand out against the tan skin of his face. A scar runs acorss is right cheek.

Biography:Once a member of the Knights Order of Lorinth, he has since rejected all of his once proud faith, even going as far to renounce his own last name severing all ties to his home. He stood once proud to be part of the Knights Order but seeing the bitter truth that lie within its own rank, the corruption that was cast aside with a blind eye, he could not be part of such treachery. The Order was suppose to stand for protecting the people and upholding justice yet some saw them above it. He turned against his comrades serving his own justice. Eventually he had to flee his home for it did not matter how many he punished the corruption remained in the ranks. He became a wandering sellsword, his hammer for hire for any that could pay and if the cause was just.

Him joining the Order of Cinders was merely by chance. He had been traveling for quite some time stumbling upon another village yet entering it, the smell of death was everywhere and scent of dark magic all around. Wandering the village he eventually was ambushed by the accursed undead. His hammer served him well but eventually it broke from one of the undead attacks causing him to stumbling back. In that moment he was about to greet death but it never came. Looking up he saw his savior. A member of the elusive Order of Cinders. They drove back the vile creatures, killing all. Lethodus could only watch in awe at the men and women who fought the evil.

Before the Order left, Lethodus decided to pledge himself to them, an Order that served to seek justice and purge such a great evil from the lands. An Order that seemed to be without corruption. This to him was a second chance to do what he wanted. To protect the people of the lands and fight against evil.

Personality: He is a man who sees things in black and white. While over time he has learned there are gray areas he still much prefers the simplicity that white and black gives. He tries to be an agreeable person for the most part with his fellow hunters but he isn't afraid to express his opinion. He prides himself for his sense of honor, though this can be problematic especially if forced into heading into Lorinth for him. He enjoys a good joke and sharing tales of his time of wandering the lands.

He seems to but heads with Balthier from time to time (@TemplarKnight07 I hope that is all right with you. Just a thought of them having some tension between each other due to Lethodus being once a knight of the Order in Lorinth)

@Argetlam350

Totally fine with it, in fact I actually intended to make Balthier dislike Lorinthians on principle of the fact that most treated him, his people, and his mother like dirt.