TheBigJon

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

Arthanus said
TheBigJon: Just going to start off with nice idea, but won't work for this RP, I have already stated that the nation of Hieledran does have early stages of guns such as flintlock weapons, but nothing as advanced or accurate as revolvers, hollow point bullets, and mini hidden guns. As is your character alone would make everyone else useless and obsolete. And the cowboy routine in general doesn't fit with the time period of any of the nations. As is I would say a whole character remake would be needed starting off with downgrading the equipment to Flintlocks (you could go pirate style and carry maybe 4 so you wouldn't have to reload right off the bat, or switch to a single rifle and just try to make your shots count) and work from there. And then even with the Illusionist gunman, it sounds like an awesome idea, but you already have the most powerful and deadly weapons a man can use so having magic as well is a bit overkill. Razqua: he looks good, and I must say I do like how you brought about the whole part demon thing. So I'll accept him.

OHHHHH. I was totally confused on the entire setting. No problem! I'll switch it up ASAP!

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

moved cs to the top

Star Wars: The Darkstar Station Chronicles

Because reasons, I'm going to have to drop out of this one, fellas. :'(

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

I'd very much like to join if that's alright!

Star Wars: The Darkstar Station Chronicles

Sep said
I got a feeling Enalais and VIet will be for it as we've been in a collab. Hell, Blackbeard(If you're still sub'd) would you stay for this?

You could prob try PMing him.

The Verdict of Amenor

Editted that line

The Verdict of Amenor

Wait, I'm a little confused. Don't get me wrong, I'll fix whatever you'd like me to, but I'm not too sure where I said Caildir had killed someone. If it was in the combat style section, I'll change some wording around because I can see how you'd think that I was saying Caildir had killed people. I was just talking about a hypothetical situation, his sword would be his last resort. Hope this clears things up, and please let me know if I'm in the wrong about anything!

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Just reread Maxxorlord's post (great btw. M. Night Shamalamadingdong worthy) and saw he said 63th. Sixty Thirth. Just thought it was funny.

The Verdict of Amenor

Caildir Dimaethor

Age: 3,528 Cycles

Race: Masothi

Appearance

Caildir dons sharp facial features, normally accompanied with a smile and soft eyes. He stands 5’10” and a little heavy with 228lbs on his body. From the top of his foot to the nape of his neck, he has winding tattoos, resembling fire where the tattoo ends. Connecting the flames seem to be spiraled lines, looking like clouds of smoke. His face was spared of ink; the front of his body being covered in tattoos though just ending under his Adam’s apple. Down his right forearm, a break in tattoos makes a small clearing for another separate tattoo: a silhouette of his personal sword. He wears a green cloak on his back, always pinned together next to his right collar bone. The cloak covers his shirtless tattooed body. The lower half consists of a belt that seems to glow very faintly a dark blue color and lightly padded pants. His prized sword, Naurhyanda, settles in its sheath on his hip. His face wrap regularly hangs around his neck, only being pulled up on certain occasion.

Combat Style

Caildir prefers to be in the fray of things. His natural Masothi prowess and years of swordplay aid him in his battles. However, Caildir only draws his sword as a last resort. Otherwise, he relies on his proficiency in grappling and his speed. In dire situations, he will use illusions to distract his opponents to gain the advantage.

Sword - Naurhyanda

Naurhyanda boasts a faint red tint and feels hot to the touch. The hilt remains warm, even in the coldest temperature. When the razor blade draws blood, the wound it causes feels as if it were engulfed in flames. However, there was no actual burn damage - just the immense pain. The blade itself is 30 inches with a 12 inch hilt.

Character Bio

Caildir is no exception to the general stereotype of Masothi. He grew with a sword in his hand, learning the human body - specifically the weaker points. He was never too strong; Caildir was constantly overpowered by his peers. This lead to him focusing far more on his speed, relying on that to tire out his opponent and strike where he knew it would hurt. Eventually, he was personally taught by an older Masothi who used a unique style of fighting: grappling. It was through the teacher that Caildir developed an affinity for an up close and personal style of combat. Combined with his love for the sword, he soon became quite a force to reckon with.

Years after training - both with a sword and without - Caildir finally received his tattoos. He was proud of them, and chose to show them off whenever he could. Not too long after the ink settled on his skin, he sought out on his own. However, his family could barely let go of him. They'd always been close, fighting alongside and against each other as much as they could. His father, a master swordsman of the temple, took him to a separate room the night before his departure.

Once there, Caildir's father unsheathed a sword and spoke a single word. Naurhyanda The beautiful piece seemed to glow red in the dim room. It was there where Caildir learned of the sword from his father. He learned of the catalyst located inside it and that his father never learned to harness the full potential of the sword. Not only that, but it was his father's parting gift to him. To this day, Calidir doesn't know why he, the 2nd youngest, received the sword from his father.

During his travels, Caildir only learned more. He spent majority of his time with a Run'Lothi who helped him use the catalyst. It took quite a long time to finally produce something out of it. The Run'Lothi was well versed in Mysticism. Particularly in illusions. He could make the most convincing scenes and Caildir believes that the elf's face wasn't truly his own. It blew his mind how the elf could alter his perceptions. His skill only made Caildir more determined to learn how to use the catalyst.

Personality

Caildir is very slow to anger - very rarely even raising his voice. His eyes remain friendly and welcoming with a slight curve to his mouth. He always prefers to think his actions through - constantly thinking about consequences and reactions. That being said, he prefers to keep everyone happy and takes everything in a lighthearted manner. However, Caildir isn't very quick to forgive. Considering how hard it is to piss him off, Caildir believes it's fair to hold a grudge against those who do manage it.

Catalyst

The black stone rests in the hilt of Naurhyanda, unable to be seen from the outside.

Mysticism - Illusory

Caildir uses mysticism to alter what their senses are perceiving. In the form of illusions, he can create sounds, images, and sensations that the target experiences.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Locks' lips curved into a friendly smirk as he took the smoke from the Frenchman. A nod of thanks came after as he placed it above his ear. He knew he'd need it a bit later.

Ben turned his gaze to the newcomer, Staff Sergeant McKnight. He returned Sterling's greeting with a nod, meeting his eyes. The two had seen some shit in the few tours they'd served together a while back. Despite the horrors that waited for them below, Ben appreciated a familiar face. He knew he could trust the Sergeant with his life, if it came down to it.

Captain Knight took no time beginning the briefing. Short and sweet, just how Locks liked it. Ben's jaw clenched at the younger man's request. That must be Nicholson. Kind of a pessimist, huh. He'd heard some things - primarily good things - about the boy. However, Locks wasn't much for rumors. He'll see soon enough what he's capable of.

"I think that's all we'd need to know, Captain. I'm sure if someone has questions they can ask you personally, thank you for the briefing. I need to suit up, I'll see you later, boys."

He gave a quick nod and smile to the other Captain, signalling his leave. Ben paced down to the armory, to where his suit was kept. She was quite the beauty. Pretty much everything he'd want in assisting him on the field. The suit fit him perfectly, as if it were part of his own body. It never ceased to amaze how mobile it kept him. He threw a few punches and raised his leg a bit, demonstrating the suit's flexibility. When he activated the cloaking device, the darkness of the suit flickered for a moment and disappeared. A grin spread across his face and he turned it off, collapsing his helmet while he did so.

Locks walked over to his weapons locker, eyeing all of his toys. Gotta clear the town. With the thought, he reached for his Mossberg, a beautiful shotgun able to hold 8 shots - one in the chamber, 7 in the magazine. He loaded it to capacity and filled the 6-shot saddle on both sides. He looked down the sights, imagining hostiles eating the gun's lead. 8 more shells clung to his left leg while 2 flashbangs hang at his right. His knives were secure and Sheila stayed loyally at his hip with his kukri on the other. He shot a glance at the push knives on his wrist and moved for his room.

The cig from DuBois hung from his lips, now. Locks lit it and puffed gently.

Let's go, boys.