Whimsley

Here We Go Adventuring!

Name - Enior Errigan
Age - 19
Gender - M
Race - Elf
Personality - Enior speaks to a room of many people and they all cheer his name. He joins in song, merriment, entertainment, and all other hospitalities that life might have to offer at any given time. Though his demeanor is friendly, the elf would likely reevaluate his morals for a high enough sum of gold. Enior is a thief and a rogue who treads in the shadow, his personality in combat being unheard and of a single swing. Though he'd rather avoid combat entirely, Enior has been known to hold his ground against more than one opponent. In most cases, Enior utilizes charm and wit to woo an opposing party over, or gain favors and trinkets he should not.
Appearance -

Enior Appearance

He wears a transparent, thin veil as a sort of mask. It is only effective at night or in dim lightning.
Abilities - Lockpicking, pickpocketing, knife-throwing, stealth, superb climbing and speed, trap disarming, silver tongue
Equipment - Thieves' tools, Climbing kit, leather armor, throwing knives, two iron daggers, and smoke bombs

Backstory - Raised in the slums of a bustling city, Enior was quick to learn harsh living and the brutality of famine. Stealing his way to survive, Enior became rather good at becoming unnoticed about the hundredth time he was beaten by the local vendors. He could steal goods, foods, even coin from one's pocket without being noticed. On occasion, he's even been known to slip a weapon from a guard or two, or so he claims. At a younger age than most he became a sellsword. He favored the dagger above all other weapons, allowing him to strike in close proximity while remaining light on his feet. Now, though, he seeks knowledge of a great treasure; the life of a sellsword pays well but not enough. He dreams of bathing in the gold of nobles, gold he never attained as a child in the gutter.

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

I like this idea of starting from the ground up, and committing to detailed posts. I should have a character sheet finished later this evening. I'll be on the Rebellion's side starting with a Nidoran♂, as he was a childhood favorite of mine.

Removed hider for @Bigg Slamm

Name: Indigo Samson

Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it.



Age: 22

Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance.

Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime.

Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian

Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn.

Other: N/A

Rings of Fate

HE KNOOOOWWWWS

Rings of Fate

Krunk-Mobile, Storage Bay

_{How I love family reunions}

Zerraf stared for a moment as the rapier sat there motionless, his eyes returning to a stone-like state. Then they returned to crinkling, as if he were trying to hold a straight face but couldn't. Zerraf, the lethargic wind mage, pointed his chin to the sky and laughed. It was untrained but hearty, the skin of his neck nearly scraping against the blade. "Good to see you too. Feisty as ever, eh, I guess a temper will help you in the coming battles." Zerraf shrugged, raising his left hand to a motionless wave as a sign of surrender before going to place a finger on the tip of her blade. "Let's save it for the real threat, hm? We can't be using all of our energy here." Zerraf's eyes darted to the hole and back to the two before him, a glazed look having been replaced by an alert one. "I don't know what you and your new traitor ball friend here are thinking, but I think our exit's already been made."

Rings of Fate

Haha I've dreamed that I've been awake many times, no worries.

Scattered Shades: Arcadia Chronicles

#teamseemass

Rings of Fate

Waiting for @Whimsley and @Lady Athena.

@Letter Bee

I'm giving her a chance to post first, as I directly interacted with her.

Madam Lilith School for Supernatural

Mathigyle

"How refined, psychic enhancement. Tapping into the neural networks of the mind. One.." There he went again, likely citing the intricacy of making such a potion and the number of faults that could occur with even a single drop of an incorrect ingredient. Which fault occurred by what means, etc. It was not that Mathigyle wished to bore the young Mr. Mors, rather his passion was just so fervent for the subject of alchemy. Finally, he got to the point.

Mathigyle checked his sleeves, necklace, and various pockets cut into his robes for such a potion. Alas, he had none pre-brewed, though the Chromatic Concoction was an intriguing find. "But of course, Mr. Mors, a potion of psychic enhancement, beginner's strength, for your student. Don't want them seeing too many secrets of the universe now." The lich croaked a hoarse laugh; you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "It will brew for some time and be prepared six micromoments before the moon's apex." In english, some time before midnight.

Here We Go Adventuring!

Name - Enior Errigan
Age - 19
Gender - M
Race - Elf
Personality - Enior speaks to a room of many people and they all cheer his name. He joins in song, merriment, entertainment, and all other hospitalities that life might have to offer at any given time. Though his demeanor is friendly, the elf would likely reevaluate his morals for a high enough sum of gold. Enior is a thief and a rogue who treads in the shadow, his personality in combat being unheard and of a single swing. Though he'd rather avoid combat entirely, Enior has been known to hold his ground against more than one opponent. In most cases, Enior utilizes charm and wit to woo an opposing party over, or gain favors and trinkets he should not.
Appearance -

Enior Appearance

He wears a transparent, thin veil as a sort of mask. It is only effective at night or in dim lightning.
Abilities - Lockpicking, pickpocketing, knife-throwing, stealth, superb climbing and speed, trap disarming, silver tongue
Equipment - Thieves' tools, Climbing kit, leather armor, throwing knives, two iron daggers, and smoke bombs

Backstory - Raised in the slums of a bustling city, Enior was quick to learn harsh living and the brutality of famine. Stealing his way to survive, Enior became rather good at becoming unnoticed about the hundredth time he was beaten by the local vendors. He could steal goods, foods, even coin from one's pocket without being noticed. On occasion, he's even been known to slip a weapon from a guard or two, or so he claims. At a younger age than most he became a sellsword. He favored the dagger above all other weapons, allowing him to strike in close proximity while remaining light on his feet. Now, though, he seeks knowledge of a great treasure; the life of a sellsword pays well but not enough. He dreams of bathing in the gold of nobles, gold he never attained as a child in the gutter.

Madam Lilith School for Supernatural

Mathigyle

Ah yes, this year just may be different, only a quarter of the hallway dispersed in a hurried pace. We can't have last year happening again, not with the snake venom on his final exam. Well, that was just part of it. Though Mathigyle had to submit to Jeffrey that it was a humorous happening. A huge misunderstanding really. Anyways, one student in particular caught Mathigyle's attention, exclaiming her interest in the powerful mishap of alchemy that occurred. "Oh! You enjoy this?" He glanced over at the smoking room and took a few shuffles toward Rei while wringing his wrinkled hands, his now-gray robes dragging ash behind him. "Yes, uh hm. Please consider, ah, enrolling in my introductory class: Alchemicals 101, won't you?." Mathigyle was a sucker for those who wished to learn under him, and those who showed interest in pursuing alchemy. Rei would soon hear word from upper class students about Mathigyle's classes: they are as dangerous as they are entertaining; death is not uncommon. Brew battles, improvised potions, and toxic mixtures were among the events and subjects to occur. Instruction was sometimes convoluted and archaic; Mathigyle was a traditional alchemist who still utilized the textbooks written in the times he walked amongst the living. It was necessary to learn or speak some of this ancient language by the end of his first course, especially if one was to experiment outside of class. Only high intellectuals, the fortuitous, and those covered in horseshoes and four-leaf clovers are able to pass his final course.

With this, Mathigyle turned to face the approaching Mr. Mors, a young man who managed to be cordial and well-spoken all at once, how delightful. "A devil indeed, Mr. Mors. Though sometimes he's more of a newt looking sort, or that one time he was an ostrich, oh how he riles me so!" Extra emphasis was placed on the word "so" as Mathigyle melodramatically raised a quivering fist to the air, about three inches below his chin was all he could manage. "He has his days, the cranky miscreant. We'll try again tomorrow. Ah, tomorrow is the first day, of course, perhaps the day after. Well no, that is when the razor groot seeds sprout from their containers..." Mathigyle began to ramble and mumble underneath his breath, listing off what appeared to be hundreds of experiments he was currently working on. One could figure there were several forgotten experiments simply wasting away in the many secret labs Mathigyle had set up about the place. He stopped himself mid-ramble. "Ah, but of course Mr. Mors, what is it you require? How go the preparations for your courses?"

@kagethekiller @newmoongamer