Vaeltaja

Njohuri's Encyclopedia: A Character Reliquary

_{R E S I S T O R O F T H E E N D}

E L I J A H W A L S H

^{"Come on. No matter what, we're getting out of here."}

════ C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T ════ _______________________________________________ _______________________________________________ ════ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y ════ 🇺🇸 Elijah Walsh _______________________________________________ 28 | Male | Caucasian | Blood Type: O+ _______________________________________________ Musician ▼ O T H E R I N F O ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Build - Lean, Fairly Fit ► Eye Color - Blue ▼ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Resilience ► Ingenuity ► Compassion ► Aggression ► Endurance ► Coordination ▼ W E A K N E S S E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Prone to Anger ► Stubborn ► Impulsive ► Reckless ▼ L I K E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Music (most genres) ► Writing (usually lyrics) ► Hanging with Friends ► Exploring ▼ D I S L I K E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Isolation ► Deception ► The Smell of Blood ► Those Who Refuse to Help

══════ A P P E A R A N C E ══════ At a height of five feet and eleven inches, with long golden locks to match his well-trimmed beard, Elijah is your typical, run-of-the-mill coffee shop musician, coming in at a lean 148 pounds. He's usually found wearing a raglan tee shirt in any one of several colors, with a pair of black capri pants to match. At times, he can be seen sporting a red flannel shirt over his outfit that's seen some wear over the years, often with the sleeves tucked. Along his arms, coupled with what can be seen along his neck, are an array of various tattoos, each one a conscious decision that carries some personal meaning. His knuckles have also been subject to scarring, a result of his days spent defending himself in the orphanage when he was younger. ═══════ P E R S O N A L I T Y ══════ Elijah considers himself pretty easygoing nowadays, having developed a sense of patience and calm over the years. Though he tends to be friendly to most people he comes across, he stays guarded and keeps to himself so as not to appear vulnerable; all this as a result of trust issues during his formative years. However, when involved in topics of conversation he enjoys, namely things about music, he tends to let down his guard a little. When confronted in a negative situation, Elijah turns to his fighter's instinct to find a quick end to a bad situation, especially when people he cares about are affected. He's willing to lay down his life to defend those who have no problem doing the same, making him a remarkable team player. However, when faced with obstacles he can't overcome, he often gets frustrated, adopting a defeatist attitude, especially under extreme stress, but don't let that confuse you; in times of pressure, he's quick both in thought and action. ═══════ B I O G R A P H Y ══════ As a kid, Elijah Walsh (formerly Caskell) was always a dreamer, often imagining a better life for himself outside the dingy walls of Mary's Love Orphanage. Growing up, he turned to music as a means of distraction from the various woes of his life, cultivating a passion for the guitar and spending as much time as he could in the music room on the top floor. When he wasn't there, he isolated himself away from the other kids, though it didn't stop the constant bullying he received on a daily basis. Things would grow increasingly violent, forcing Elijah to defend himself against the vicious attacks by the other children, some of which were older than him. Because of this, he learned to fight dirty and opportunistically, doing whatever it takes to win. Eventually, he would be adopted by the Walsh family, consisting of himself and his new parents, Leopold and Marie. Life was stressful for a while, and Elijah would sometimes resort to throwing things around when under considerable stress. This didn't stop Leo and Marie from doing their best to raise him, eventually entering him into therapy in the hopes that he would get better. Though the sessions worked out for the most part, Elijah still found himself prone to anger, but was now able to channel it into a more productive and focused outlet, namely through his interest in music. When not in school or in one of a few engineering jobs, he practiced each and every day, honing his craft with the support of his parents behind him. Feeling comfortable with his artistry, he started entering talent contests hosted by the various radio stations in Florida. With a bit of luck and to his parents' surprise, he won a very special contest that allowed him to travel to Los Angeles, California, and record an album to put out to the masses, all at the age of 22. Bidding goodbye to his parents, he packed his bags and headed west, touching down in the Golden State. He met up with a well-known rock producer, recorded his debut solo album, and released it to the public. Within the first month alone, the album sold 7,000 copies, which seemed like a success. He would eventually go on to release a second album which would sell even more than his previous endeavor, allowing him to go on a west coast tour with a special opportunity to perform a concert at the Royal Palms Casino and Resort, on a small island just north of Australia. Traveling from the center of Washington and hitting almost every state on the west coast, Elijah would arrive back in Los Angeles in time to catch a flight out to the last stop in the tour, arriving a day later. With time to kill until the concert, the up-and-coming musician has been spending his time chilling by the pool, occasionally drinking, and soaking in the sun, unaware of the impending doom whose shadow will soon stretch across all of Banoi.

DEAD ISLAND 💀🌴 (Reboot) (4-8 Players)

Interested. If the character sheet requirements are final, I'll begin working on a sheet.

EDIT: The 'DO NOT REMOVE' tag at the end of the character sheet - do you want that in the sheet? If so, for what purpose?

Username Context

The name carries with it some personal reflection. 'Vaeltaja' is Finnish for 'wanderer', and I had this confirmed by an acquaintance of mine who hails from Finland themselves. Essentially, it was a name for a "reality-ender" NPC in a tabletop campaign that eventually fell through because I was an inexperienced DM; one that I hope to bring back in some form at a later date. The NPC was a mysterious figure who had the ability to travel through any dimension and timeline he so chose, for the sole purpose of communing with and bringing peace to the dead. I ended up basing the design off the character in my account picture, who is themselves from a game called The Mooseman. The sub-affix "Nomad of Eternity" is relative: 'nomad' is a synonym for 'wanderer', and since he can wander through any timeline - past, present, or future - he has access to all of eternity.

As time went on, the name sort of rooted itself into my personal life. Mentally, I never had the opportunity to sort of ground myself. I'm in a constant, perpetual existential crisis, and that stems even further into my identity. I don't really know who I am or what my purpose is, so I wander, and that's why I chose the name.

What Are You Listening To?

𝐀𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐮: 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Humanity has vanished suddenly and without a trace, leaving the known world behind. Two unlikely yet brave souls, Arbor and Lintu, embark on a journey to investigate the cause of their disappearance and maybe even bring them back.

This is a barebones idea. While I've had the characters and the skeleton plot in mind for several years, there is no lore or world that exists beyond this point. I'm looking for someone with a crazy and active imagination to bring potential lore and the world at large to life through the story.

_{A R B O R}

Arbor is a treant, or a tree-person. Standing at a meager eight feet with sparse branches and leaves, Arbor is considered a runt of his people and is often ostracized. He was painted from head to toe in various colors and patterns, and his goal for the journey is to find the one who did this to him, so that he could thank them for giving him a beauty and identity where he felt he had none.

_{L I N T U}

Lintu is a hen, more intelligent than the rest of her flock. Standing at an average of about 18 inches tall, Lintu's plumage shares a unique gradient from white to a faded dark pink. She is known to be rambunctious, a side-effect of yearning for adventure while being isolated from the world by an insurmountable fence. Her goal for the journey is to discover the world outside of her own and bring humanity back so that her flock can survive the coming winter.

---

There's no romance or smut. There's no combat. There's no dialogue. There can be violence, drama, strife, etc. A lot of this story is centered around Arbor and Lintu exploring the world beyond, learning about the disappearance of humanity, and potentially meeting other fantastical creatures or animals along the way. This is a fantasy-based RP; let your imagination wander and come up with amazing settings and creatures and so on.

As my partner through this, you should be able to communicate the world and its lore, as well as character interactions, solely through narration. I'm looking for someone who can post, on average, two paragraphs at a time, though I've included the 'Free' tag because it's possible that only shorter posts are necessary at any given moment.

If this interests you, please let me know through a PM. Include with it an example of a made-up location in the world; the more mysterious or fantastical, the better. I await your participation.

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

_{"Come now, wind. Take me to the planet's edge."}

The waters were still, here, if only for the moment. Free from the confines of reality, he wandered beneath the sky, gazing up to the intermingling hues of cream and orange and magenta. Ripples drifted out from beneath his feet as they made contact with the otherwise placid surface, and he could feel the coolness between his toes. He couldn't help but smile. Shakily, he raised his arms out in front of him and they felt heavy, more so than the other times he found himself here. As his fingers danced about, tracing invisible loops through the air, the area past where he walked began to quake.

Small structures began to rise through the waters—statues that mimicked styles and cultures of the past, mimicked familiar faces he could, at once, barely recognize and hardly forget. Beyond them, small buildings resembling places he used to roam; better times in life where memories remained fuzzy at best and drowned in static at worst. Aimlessly, he shambled across the waters until he came into contact with a statue taller than himself. The face bore a striking resemblance to her. He wrapped his arms around the base and buried his face into the marble cloth that encircled her body, shaking silently as he started to weep.

Across the walkway, an old woman—a local shopkeeper and mother of two—watched a ragged, disheveled, clearly disturbed husk of black denim and blue nylon stumbling throughout the open plaza, somehow narrowly missing multiple chairs and tables. His arms raised out in front of him, fingers waggling in nondescript motions. As the throngs of passersby weaved through each other on the pedestrian path, their silhouettes masked his presence for only a few seconds before he reappeared again, his body slumped against a broken pillar with his arms wrapped around its base. His body quietly trembled in the distance, and she couldn't help but feel a slight sympathy for him.

The statue to which he gripped so tightly started to crumble and turn to dust, streams of marble residue pouring into his hands. Frantically, he tried to slap them back onto the statue—at this point, now half a body—only to physically recoil and plead in hushed tones when they failed to stick and ended up slipping into the water, clouding the once clear liquid. He bowed repeatedly, as if praying to the statue itself, but when he rose for the final time, the statue was gone, replaced with the sound of a gentle breeze. His arms fell to his sides and he stared across the realm and into the horizon, letting a tear stream down a pock-marked cheek. The sky above and the shallow, endless pool below started to fade from his sight, a landscape of gray, intermittent neon light, and scanlines returning to his senses, complete with the stench of garbage, gas, and smoke.

He lingered for a period of minutes before clambering to his feet, using the pillar to brace himself so he could take a few seconds to stabilize. His body ached all over, likely a result of falling over multiple obstacles or the occasional conflict with another transient. With a lengthy sigh, he positioned himself upright and took note of the scenery around him. He found himself in an empty plaza, rusted steel chairs and tables strewn about. Several feet away, a long barricade separated the plaza from a wide walkway, with open gaps interspersed throughout. The pedestrian traffic sped past in both directions, shadows obscuring faces. He touched his fingers to the composite mask upon his face, feeling the fringes of scars and melted skin. In that moment, he felt akin to the anonymous travelers.

Beyond them, an old woman leaned on a railing that lined the stairs leading up to the building in front of which she stood. As he noticed her, she likely watched the darkness beneath his hood, searching for something to recognize. They'd acknowledge each other with the subtlest of motions before she shook her head and turned to enter the building. Typical, he thought to himself as he exited the plaza, lumbering toward his home. He passed by the same lit landmarks, using them as signs to direct himself back to the alleyway. Though the outskirts of Korven were still relatively new to him, the signs and buildings associated with them had already become well-known enough for him to reliably use them for guidance—a neon Polaris, he once contemplated.

When he arrived at the alleyway, home to his bed of cardboard and torn tarp, a shadowy figure awaited him. He felt no sense of fear, walking past them and seating himself on the ground, the ache of his muscles brought to the forefront yet again.

"Senna," the shadow uttered, kneeling down to meet the homeless man at eye level.

"Lucid," Senna replied, slight traces of wind playing with the frayed fibers of the cloth beneath his hood.

The figure, seemingly referred to as 'Lucid', laughed and rested a gloved hand on Senna's shoulder. "It's been a while since we last talked. How have you been?"

Senna lifted a heavy arm to brush away Lucid's hand before letting it drop into his lap. His breathing was labored, a result of having little food to sustain him. "If you're looking for me to buy, I don't have anything for you. Just leave me alone."

"Nonsense," Lucid replied, his voice dripping with malcontent. "You could always do what you do best; take a trip to the medical center, get a few augments, let them poke at your brain for a little while, yeah? You did it before, remember?" Met with silence, Lucid rose to his feet and stepped back into the openness of the alleyway, his back turned to the homeless man. "But, I suppose that was during a time where you were desperate to leave your world behind, wasn't it? Back when it came crashing down around you. Back when they vanished."

An empty can landed near his feet, clanging across the ground until it hit the corrugated aluminum wall. Lucid laughed again.

"Guess that period of your life hasn't ended just yet."

"Leave, Lucid," Senna demanded, his voice hoarse. "I don't have the money to buy any HALOs. Your presence here is a mockery."

"Tell you what, Sen," Lucid countered as he slowly wheeled around to face Senna, clearly refusing his request. He moved back to Senna's area and knelt down before him once more, reaching into a pocket inside his leather jacket and producing a small, flat chip in his hand before continuing. "I'll let you have one HALO, for free, so you can escape—"

Lucid flicked the top of Senna's hood, to which the latter was too exhausted to retaliate. "—back into whatever little fantasy world you cooked up in that broken brain of yours. In turn, when you finally get enough money to your name, you find me, and you pay me. Consider it an advancement on our... unspoken agreement. Now, if you take this, and you can't come up with the cash, you won't have to find me, because I'll find you, and when I do... you will pay what you owe. Now, if I know you as well as I do, which I'd like to think is pretty well, you're going to take this deal, because HALOs are the only reason you haven't offed yourself yet, and you'd rather escape into some strange delusion than face reality head-on and deal with it like a man, so..."

He waved his hand side to side in front of Senna, the tiny metal pieces of the chip glinting in the ruby neon light.

"...what's it gonna be?"

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

I'm glad I could create a workable character. Thanks for the admission.

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

@MissCapnCrunch Of course. Sorry for the character posting in the other section. Thought the thumbs-up was a go-ahead.

For the design of the sheet, I tried various different format screws and image editing to make it look nice, but I'm inexperienced and a bit lazy, so there's only simply styling to it. Also, I went ahead and rearranged pieces of info to fit into certain sections, as well as adding a few bits of my own to establish a tiny bit of lore; hope that it's not a problem.

---

Senna

_{P H A N T O M Z E A L O T}

S E N N A G U I L L A I N

^{Reference artwork created by Darren Bartley, also known as fightPUNCH}

_{B I O L O G I C A L / P H Y S I C A L I N F O R M A T I O N}

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Sexuality: Straight

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 137 lbs

Blood Type: A-

Hair Color/Length: Black / Shoulder-length

Eye Color: Unknown

Facial Features: Unknown; cybernetic mask fused to skin

Body Type: Thin; malnourished

Scars/Tattoos: Multiple scars across upper body; ID tattoo across inside of left wrist

Piercings: None

Apparel: Black sneakers; black denim jeans, ripped; light blue sweatshirt; oversized hooded windbreaker (midnight blue); torn cloth draped over the head; cybernetic mask; multiple mechanical parts embedded into shoulders and head

_{S O C I A L I N F O R M A T I O N}

Full Name: Senna Griffon Guillain

Aliases: Sen; Shell

Sanction: Korven Outskirts

Occupation: Homeless; formerly subjected to medical experimentation

Assets: None

Criminal Affiliations: None

Family: Miriel Guillain (wife, deceased); Lochne Guillain(son, missing, presumed dead)

Relationships: Dr. Joseph Havadi, former therapist; "Lucid", HALO dealer

_{P S Y C H O L O G I C A L I N F O R M A T I O N / A N A L Y S I S}

Likes: HALOs, isolation, sleep

Dislikes: Questions, being sober

Hobbies: Using HALOs, dumpster diving

Interests: Seeking vengeance against those that ruined him

_{T R A I T A S S E S S M E N T}

Positive Traits: Dedicated, imaginative, patient

Neutral Traits: Casual, private, sarcastic

Negative Traits: Angry, cynical, escapist

Illnesses: Depression, PTSD

Subject exhibits a need to escape from reality; has expounded on a desire to "seek vengeance (against? Why?)". When sober and under questioning, subject exhibits traits closely related to frustration and anger. Behavioral therapy has proven ineffective, as he seems to rebuff all attempts to help. Little is known about his private life beyond the loss of his family some time back; I'm hard-pressed to wonder if it's because of the HALOs affecting his memory of its his tendency to isolate himself. Despite not opening up about personal details, he seems to display a rather unreal fantasy and often elaborates at length about an imaginary where he rules as king. Recommending chemical pacifiers and consistent surveillance to prevent him from becoming a danger to himself and others.

- Dr. Havadi

_{B I O G R A P H Y}

Senna's life before Baruel remains an elusive mystery. He found his way to the city with his wife, Miriel, and then infant son, Lochne. Immediately, he showed an aptitude for technology, working his way into the job sector through wiring work. Through effort, talent, and word-of-mouth, companies in the sanction of Eden would soon pick up on a new, yet experienced machinist. His family would be moved into the upper sectors, able to live a life of luxury as Senna worked tirelessly to craft a better future for those he cherished.

Detractors inside the company would uproot their lives in less than a year, framing Senna for a corporate mistake that resulted in the deaths of several people. Senna and his family would be exiled from Eden, plunging back down into the slums of Korven with no money to their names. Though he would protest and attempt to shutter the business for which he slaved away, his efforts amounted to nothing.

Life would become even more unbearable when several members of a local gang stormed into their living quarters and demanded everything they own. Senna refused to budge. As punishment, his attackers would brutalize and beat both he and Miriel. Miriel would perish in the attack, her body and child abducted. Helpless, he watched them disappear before his very eyes. He would never find them again, presuming his son dead after searching so long. In the hopes of escaping death, he fled to the outskirts of Korven, where he remains to this day, aimlessly wandering and without a home.

To cope with the trauma, he would turn to HALOs; small, flat techno-narcotic chips that, when inserted into a cybernetic implant, would induce hallucinations and feelings of euphoria in the user. It would prove to be an addiction to such an extent that he would often undergo medical experiments involving cybernetic augmentation, resulting in a mask being fused to his face and several mechanized canisters implanted into and wired through his shoulders and head. These trials would provide him money to afford HALOs from the local drug dealer, known only as "Lucid".

At one point, Senna tried therapy, and a doctor named Joseph Havadi was willing to see him, looking forward to alleviating the nightmares that plagued his psyche day and night. These sessions, while seldom revealing, were largely ineffective, with Senna demanding both vengeance against his enemies and more HALOs so that he could "return to the world where he was king". Little was learned beyond the realization that there was a deep rage boiling within him, and what form that rage would take has yet to be seen.

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

Senna

_{P H A N T O M Z E A L O T}

S E N N A G U I L L A I N

^{Reference artwork created by Darren Bartley, also known as fightPUNCH}

_{B I O L O G I C A L / P H Y S I C A L I N F O R M A T I O N}

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 137 lbs

Blood Type: A-

Hair Color/Length: Black / Shoulder-length

Eye Color: Unknown

Facial Features: Unknown; cybernetic mask fused to skin

Body Type: Thin; malnourished

Scars/Tattoos: Multiple scars across upper body; ID tattoo across inside of left wrist

Piercings: None

Apparel: Black sneakers; black denim jeans, ripped; light blue sweatshirt; oversized hooded windbreaker (midnight blue); torn cloth draped over the head; cybernetic mask; multiple mechanical parts embedded into shoulders and head

_{S O C I A L I N F O R M A T I O N}

Full Name: Senna Griffon Guillain

Aliases: Sen; Shell

Sanction: Korven Outskirts

Occupation: Homeless; formerly subjected to medical experimentation

Assets: None

Criminal Affiliations: None

Family: Miriel Guillain (wife, deceased); Lochne Guillain(son, missing, presumed dead)

Relationships: Dr. Joseph Havadi, former therapist; "Lucid", HALO dealer

_{P S Y C H O L O G I C A L I N F O R M A T I O N / A N A L Y S I S}

Likes: HALOs, isolation, sleep

Dislikes: Questions, being sober

Hobbies: Using HALOs, dumpster diving

Interests: Seeking vengeance against those that ruined him

_{T R A I T A S S E S S M E N T}

Positive Traits: Dedicated, imaginative, patient

Neutral Traits: Casual, private, sarcastic

Negative Traits: Angry, cynical, escapist

Illnesses: Depression, PTSD

Subject exhibits a need to escape from reality; has expounded on a desire to "seek vengeance (against? Why?)". When sober and under questioning, subject exhibits traits closely related to frustration and anger. Behavioral therapy has proven ineffective, as he seems to rebuff all attempts to help. Little is known about his private life beyond the loss of his family some time back; I'm hard-pressed to wonder if it's because of the HALOs affecting his memory or his tendency to isolate himself. Despite not opening up about personal details, he seems to display a rather unreal fantasy and often elaborates at length about an imaginary realm where he rules as king. Recommending chemical pacifiers and consistent surveillance to prevent him from becoming a danger to himself and others.

- Dr. Havadi

_{B I O G R A P H Y}

Senna's life before Baruel remains an elusive mystery. He found his way to the city with his wife, Miriel, and then infant son, Lochne. Immediately, he showed an aptitude for technology, working his way into the job sector through wiring work. Through effort, talent, and word-of-mouth, companies in the sanction of Eden would soon pick up on a new, yet experienced machinist. His family would be moved into the upper sectors, able to live a life of luxury as Senna worked tirelessly to craft a better future for those he cherished.

Detractors inside the company would uproot their lives in less than a year, framing Senna for a corporate mistake that resulted in the deaths of several people. Senna and his family would be exiled from Eden, plunging back down into the slums of Korven with no money to their names. Though he would protest and attempt to shutter the business for which he slaved away, his efforts amounted to nothing.

Life would become even more unbearable when several members of a local gang stormed into their living quarters and demanded everything they own. Senna refused to budge. As punishment, his attackers would brutalize and beat both he and Miriel. Miriel would perish in the attack, her body and child abducted. Helpless, he watched them disappear before his very eyes. He would never find them again, presuming his son dead after searching so long. In the hopes of escaping death, he fled to the outskirts of Korven, where he remains to this day, aimlessly wandering and without a home.

To cope with the trauma, he would turn to HALOs; small, flat techno-narcotic chips that, when inserted into a cybernetic implant, would induce hallucinations and feelings of euphoria in the user. It would prove to be an addiction to such an extent that he would often undergo medical experiments involving cybernetic augmentation, resulting in a mask being fused to his face and several mechanized canisters implanted into and wired through his shoulders and head. These trials would provide him money to afford HALOs from the local drug dealer, known only as "Lucid".

At one point, Senna tried therapy, and a doctor named Joseph Havadi was willing to see him, looking forward to alleviating the nightmares that plagued his psyche day and night. These sessions, while seldom revealing, were largely ineffective, with Senna demanding both vengeance against his enemies and more HALOs so that he could "return to the world where he was king". Little was learned beyond the realization that there was a deep rage boiling within him, and what form that rage would take has yet to be seen.

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

I assume we post our sheets in the character section?