Fantasy a long & lost road (cs apps)

[_em_]

scroll.

a long & lost road.

C

haracter

sheet

credit to @xayah. bc what's written from this point on is pretty much what came copy and pasted with this code but no, they don't have any idea this rp exists lol.

Thanks for your interest in applying! If you guys have any questions, please let me know. Here's what you need to know to make your sheet, and remember that these premade character slots are only suggestions!!

1. You can create/apply for one character.
2. Real faceclaims only! If you want to include clothing/pet/weapon/etc inspo, I'll accept DnD-inspired art.
3. Quality over quantity! While I love a good code, I don't require one for your application.
4. There is currently no deadline; one will be created if there is enough interest.

Sheet Necessities;

BASICS
Name:
Alias (if applicable):
Age (18+):
Gender:
Orientation:
Role:
Occupation (if applicable):

VISAGE
Appearance (no need to fill out if you have a faceclaim):
Faceclaim: (optional)
Clothes:
Pets (if applicable, please make this reasonable - I'd like to keep it a max of two pets in the group):
Preferred Weapons:

PSYCHE
Personality: a paragraph or more
Virtues:
Vices:

ORIGIN
Origin Story:
Reputation:
Powers/Skills:
Why are they with the party?: (once accepted, we will have to create a reason for the party to be travelling together, so please feel free to start crafting your ideas here!)
Other:

Plus anything else that seems relevant! Make the sheets your own- there will be bonus points awarded for creativity c:

the monk.

OPEN

the level headed one. the mediator. the one with the braincell. strategic. likes to lay back; handles defense. either long distance combat or magic. rather quiet, but is really just a giant dork at their core. staying with the group warms their cold, aged heart. years ago, they lost their family in a tragic accident. they've been on the road since.

the mage.

OPEN

the healer, can also proficiently defend themselves using magic when necessary. a clutz; somehow manages to just scrape out of trouble on a daily basis, but genuinely never means any harm. they've been scorned from their hometown, but why?

the fighter.

OPEN

the muscle. the group’s number one source of protection when all else fails. bull-headed and loud. acts first, thinks second. brash and unforgiving. specializes in sword fighting, may or may not have been kicked out of the royal guard.

the barbarian.

OPEN

the face. the persuasion. the himbo. usually the monk tells them what to say. is mostly with the group bc they don’t have anywhere else to go. surprisingly good at card games. oozes charm.

coded by xayah.ღ

 

[_em_]

I.
salara du'rann.

the chosen one.

coded by xayah.ღ

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

sasha

the cavalier

full name

aleksandr ivanovich

nickname(s)

sasha

age

27

gender

male

orientation

ace

role

the cavalier

occupation

freelance, in the original sense

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  hair

  
  

  Sandy blond. A little long and shaggy.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  eyes

  
  

  Sasha has heterochromia: the left eye is blue and the right brown. Like a husky.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  height

  
  

  6'2"

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  body mods.

  
  

  N/A, though he does have some scarring. His nose is also slightly crooked, like it was broken once.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  attire.

  
  

  Worn, practical clothes. Leather, fur, and felted wool make up the bulk of his wardrobe.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  faceclaim

  
  

  Ivan Yankovskiy

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  virtues

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Loyal, decisive, clever, charismatic, competent
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  vices

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Arrogant, explosive, manipulative, demanding, irritable
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  personality

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Sasha has a large, forceful personality. Clever, charismatic, and more than a little domineering, he's never had much trouble swaying his peers into following his lead, for better or worse. At the heart of it though, Sasha just likes to make sure he's taking care of his people. He considers leadership a responsibility, and one that he takes seriously. He can appear aloof and closed-off, especially with people he doesn't know well. Reacts strongly and aggressively to perceived insults, and has no qualms about ruining potential relationships if he thinks he isn't being respected enough. On the other hand, if he does decide he likes you you'll never get him to shut up again, and he'll be over reacting to any insults leveled at you.
  
  Despite having a hell of a temper and being something of a grump on the daily, he's also a cool head in an actual crisis. When everything is going to shit around him is when Sasha is at his best.
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  preferred weapons

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  lance

  
  

  The classic cavalry weapon, he knows how to use it with surprising finesse.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  shashka

  
  

  A single edged saber, useful both on horseback and on foot.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  horsebow

  
  

  A small but powerful recurve bow of horn, wood, and sinew.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  likes

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  tea, horses, early mornings, working with his hands.
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  dislikes

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  crowds, small talk, improperly trained horses, ale.
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
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  Саша

  
  
  
  

  Зря ты это

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Давай, иди, ищи в душе мой сокровища

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Но все, кто был там, гибли от зубов чудовища

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Call lasted x:xx.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  origin story

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Born in the eastern steppe, Sasha's father was Knyaz, or a petty king, of a semi-nomadic band of herders and horsemen. The middle child of three, Sasha learned to ride nearly before he could walk, and spent his childhood riding the grasslands and learning to fight with lance and sword and bow.
  
  When Sasha was thirteen his father was killed in a skirmish with a rival tribe over grazing rights, and his older brother became Knyaz, and Sasha went from second son to heir. Now his brother's right hand, his knowledge of warfare rapidly expanded to include strategy, tactics, and leadership skills. He never expected to become Knyaz himself, but only five years later his brother was also killed in battle. Sasha did his best to keep the tribe from falling apart, but fearing further defeat under the leadership of a seventeen year old warlord, much of the clan splintered off to find preemptive mercy with other, more powerful war bands.
  
  Sensing looming danger, and being unwilling to lose both sons, Sasha's mother insisted they leave the steppe and join her family in the city. Unwilling to abandon what was left of the band (even as it became clear that they were all abandoning him), Sasha argued, but in the end, when his mother said she would take his little sister and go herself, Sasha couldn't let her go alone. They left the steppe while an older member of the tribe took control, and joined his mother's family in the city. While his sister was young enough to adjust and enjoy city life, Sasha failed to take to it. With all the hurt pride to be expected of a deposed king, Sasha never made working with him easy, though he's a talented enough fighter that enough people have been willing to put up with him.
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  reputation

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  For the last ten years Sasha has been doing mercenary work and acquiring the reputation of being fast, deadly, and competent. Most of his work has been on actual battlefields, or on border skirmishes.
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  why are they with the party?

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  After ten years of merc work with little to show for it, combined with his mother's letters asking him to come visit while heavily hinting about a wealthy heiress in her acquaintance, Sasha has decided to start making moves to return home and reclaim his tribe. The little party pays less well than merc work, but is a lot more flexible while he works on his personal agenda.
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
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  scroll

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  skills

  
  
  

  horsemanship while obviously a skilled rider, he's also knowledgeable about horse care and husbandry.
  woodcraft he can survive and navigate in the wilderness, and is more at home there than in the city.
  strategy and tactics sure, he can fight 1x1 no problem. but he can also plan a skirmish or battle.
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  pets

  
  
  

  Strelka isn't a pet so much as a weapon. She is an Argamaks, one of the heavenly horses of the steppe, famed for their speed, agility, and viciousness in battle. Sasha trained her himself, and he severely limits other people interacting with her--she's trained to do damage, and she does it well.
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  Чудовище

  
  

  АИГЕЛ

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[carrlavoie]

scroll

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  II.
  THE BARBARIAN

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  Edhem Hamill.

  faceclaim

  Jason Momoa
  
  

  age

  36
  
  

  gender

  Male
  
  

  skill

  Turning anything into a weapon
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
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  Nobody really knows where Edhem Hamill came from, but his reputation is known far and wide in the forest villages and mountain towns. “The Beast” and “The Mountain Man” are only a couple of legends whispered about him in these secluded parts. They say that his mother abandoned her wild child in the woods herself when he was just a boy, so violent and animalistic as he was, citing possession of a devil and lack of civility.. Instead, he lived, surviving amongst the predators of the land like he was one of them, making him stronger than he likely ever would have been had he been raised amongst men as a child should have been. Many people attribute his fluctuating temper and quick calm to this rumor of his life, saying that he learned to live and react as the animals do. Edhem may seem like a dunce without much thought in his head, but he is incredibly observant and adept at reading body language. He has nimble fingers good at setting up traps, and he is an impressive hunter with the patience of a saint when he is following a trail. All traits also said he had to have learned in the wild. His unpredictability and hidden cunning led his reputation as a man to be feared to grow quickly.
  
  Edhem is a great mountain of a man. With his short temper, blunt way of speaking, and penchant for bloodlust, his nickname as “The Beast” is well-earned. Although quick to use his fists or raise his voice, he is also quick to cool off when he realizes he was in the wrong. He glosses over mistakes and miscommunications with a loud, infectious laugh that lets you know you’d better move on too unless you’d be fond of a hatchet in your head.
  
  Edhem favors a thick fur cloak laid over simple leather armor and tunic, all in muted tones of black or dark brown. He is known to have a wide array of sharp objects hidden on his body at all times, the most obvious being the display of hatchets strung along his belt on the back and left side. When angry and driven to bloodlust, he has, on occasion, attempted to impale men on whatever item is closest to him - whether that be a fork, a candelabra, or a toothpick. He isn’t the sharpest weapon on the rack, but he probably owns the sharpest weapon on the rack with how obsessively he sits and tends to his axes every night.
  
  He is followed everywhere by a small falcon he affectionately calls “Falcon,” who seems to share a deep understanding with Edhem. Many people have wondered if the two can actually communicate with how easily they seem to respond to one another. Falcon has been known to pass on/intercept messages for Edhem, scout ahead, and aim for enemy eyes in battle. Despite Edhem’s bond with Falcon, he doesn’t seem to share any sort of “deeper understanding” with any other animal-folk outside of the occasional macho stand off with a stray grizzly bear or wolf. (Unsurprisingly, he has more than a few scars from these stand offs, though he will laugh and insist that he won.) His left hand is covered in a series of white scars and always boasts new cuts from Falcon’s grip when the bird lands on him. He puts a lot of weight on a man’s worth based on how much Falcon seems to like them, which is what led him to the group he travels with day. Falcon found the traveling group of misfits and insisted on inserting his own little bird brain into the group, following them for days, stealing their food, and hiding their belongings like a fun prank. Edhem found this all hilarious and declared that he would be staying with them until Falcon told him otherwise.
  
  
  
  

designed by bad ending & coded by xayah.ღ
scroll on name to reveal basic info, click on role to flip card

 

[Terrier B]

"So you would know the secret of Death?"

—◦✧◦✧◦—

​

Spoiler: Cassius of Varro

BASICS​

Name: Cassius of Varro​

Alias: Friends often refer to him as 'Cas', sometimes even 'Cassie'.​

But the thing is, he doesn't uh, have, that many, friends...​

Age: 36​

Gender: Male​

Orientation: He never makes it particularly clear himself,​

But for CS sake, Bi​

Role: Fighter​

Occupation: Currently, General Vagabond? Rapscallion for hire?​

Former positions have included a brief stint as LT. General of the Royal Guard, Head Scout and Mercenary of the Noble House Salaì, and most recently, as an Independent Assassin.​

—◦✧◦✧◦—​

VISAGE​

Appearance:​

He's a tall one is our Cass, built strong, but still lean. With soft, sturdy muscle throughout. His skin is darker, and olive-like, and his hair is that specific shade of very-very dark brown that appears black in all other lighting. Said hair is relatively long really, and placed up and away from his face when the more serious work requires it. I suppose if he was being truly practical, he'd cut it shorter and save himself the faff of it all. But the style (or more accurately, lack of) he wears it in currently seems to be more a decision made out of personal preference than functionality. As you may expect for a man in his particular line of work, Cas carries more than a few scars and general blemishes, all reminders of calls that were perhaps just a bit too close, but learning curves either way. Luckily for him, in all his years he's only managed to gain one on his face, a classic eyebrow scar, that runs down and finishes just above his cheek. Not too bad for fifteen odd years of combat I suppose.​

His face is otherwise quite remarkable in a way, in that it is undoubtedly striking, his features conveying a heavy boldness to them that draws the eye immediately. The eyes in particular seem to attract people's attention first, and stay in their heads for the longest. They seem to hold your gaze in a increasingly strange and peculiar way the longer one looks into them. Again, wholly remarkable really, considering this same profound and dusky face can also quite often look like the most dozy-headed Clodpoll born to grave the earth. His demeanour breaks through to his countenance often, and at this point the man has resigned himself to a lifetime of gracelessness un-expression.​

​

(Bonus Point: Did you know the guy has a gold tooth?! I don't even care which one it is, I just want to know how they hell he afforded it. In today's Economy?!)​

​

Clothes:​

You would not know Cassius' profession from the way he looks. And I don't know if that's a good thing or not really.​

With his current arrangement, his clothing is light and comfortable, with all his vitals covered sufficiently of course. He'll add armoured pieces accordingly, depending on the situation and job at hand. But otherwise, he wishes to remain as unencumbered as possible. A man of little frivolity, he does carry just the one item of seemingly personal value. It is a knitted scarf, a deep earthy green in colour, and long enough the be used as a covering, headscarf, and a variety of other intriguing purposes. Not a keen particular knitter himself, it seems someone meaningful must have constructed the garment for him.​

​

Preferred Weapons:​

He is additionally a man of simple tastes when it comes to handheld weaponry. A sword will suit him just fine if push comes to shove, but in truth, he's a ambidextrous soul at heart, and a dagger in each hand is his favourite way of getting the more violent aspects of his work done.​

—◦✧◦✧◦—​

PSYCHE​

Personality:​

Laid-Back, Dozy, and occasionally clever, Cassius is a interesting, if contrasting, sort of character. His mind often wanders, and he's prone to distraction here and there. An 'intellectual idiot' wouldn't be a far-off description by any means. Despite his profession, the man is alarmingly un-confrontational. At first glance he comes off as calm and unbothered, complaining or voicing his own opinion on a subject very rarely, and never with any particular passion. It seems that it would take a lot to get the man truly riled up by anything. When he pulls himself together though, this unswaying patience and placidity casually conceals a cunning aloofness, that instils a silent terror upon those he wishes it to.​

​

Virtues:​

✧ Cool & Collected - When eventually kicked into gear that is, Cassius has a sturdy enough head on his shoulders I suppose. In times of chaos or crisis, his point of view can be helpfully calm and composed. His advice and knowledge remains steady and invaluable, even in the most hectic of situations.​

✧ Cunning - As all good professional rapscallions should be I suppose. It's a cheeky sort of intelligence, that shows itself in altogether mischievous and rather artful ways. It's knowing what words to use to irk someone in just the right way until they let their guard slip, learning a person's 'tell' quickly and using it for your own favour, etc.​

✧ 'Well Seasoned' - He's not 'old-old', by any means. But Cas' had enough years notched onto the belt to be honourably blessed with the grace of experience. He knows his way around the world well enough at this point, roughly who knows who here and there (more importantly who's actually worth knowing), and which pubs have the best ale. Granted, it's a disorganised and varied bag of wisdom, but it's served him well so far.​

​

Vices:​

✧ Dozy - Probably his biggest weakness, for sometimes it can take a lot of prodding to poke him into any hasty action. It's not that he's lazy I don't think. The man just has a awfully repetitive habit of getting lost in his own head. Suppose he must just have a lot to think about?​

✧ Neutral - Interesting, as to some this could easily be seen as a positive trait. But it's a relatively useful ability when your main body of work includes killing without question. Cassius has spent practically all of his life working for the highest bidder. And while not completely soulless, money and means seem to be often his strongest drive. It's been a long time since he's had friends or companions worth being loyal to you see.​

✧ Proud - But only of himself. You'll get no rise out of him by foul-mouthing his homeland, or the place he currently rests his head. But insult his technique, attitude or even dress sense, and I tell you what, he won't half get mad about it.​

—◦✧◦✧◦—​

ORIGIN​

Cas knows little of his early years. Both his parents were dead before Cas was even three, and what memories he has of them are vague and unclear at best. He spent a year or so on the streets of a large city named Varro, but luckily, or perhaps unluckily depending on how you personally view fortune, his destiny was timely altered.​

​

Cattivo Sage was the Quarter-Master for House Salaì, one of the largest noble families in not just Varro, but the known world at the time. The Salaì Family, always seeking the best of the best, wanted more than what was expected of an average Quarter-Master, and Cattivo was more than willing to provide that to them. For as well as organizing and providing the Salaì Family's personal Militia with the expected weapons and training, Sage supplied underworld contacts, information, and eventually, even Assassins. Cas was a child alone in the world, his prospects few. Cattivo promised him a steady source of food, shelter, and an apprenticeship into a line of work that would last the boy a lifetime. The boy had the good sense to agree, and so Cassius and a handful of other boys were adopted into the servitude of both Cattivo, and the whims and wants of the Salaì's. Under Cattivo's instruction, Cas learnt how to fight, lie, steal, sneak, hide, survive, and perhaps most importantly, kill. Cattivo's 'Sons', as he grew to call them, worked for the Salaì Family exclusively. They delivered important information, Silenced enemies, protected valuables, and carried out any and all vaguely untoward and explicit tasks the Family wished of them.​

​

Now our boy Cassius, despite his at times dozy and wandering nature, was of all things, quite the most perfect Rascal the Salaì's and Cattivo could have ever asked for. He took to violence well, mastering a fluid and adaptable technique of combat. He was the sneakiest of the lot of them, capable of avoiding even Cattivo's detection when he wanted to. Perhaps, in a way, it was his lack of ambition that made him such a good student. His brothers eventually sought to achieve and do more with the skills Cattivo had taught them. But Cassius was contently comfortable with what fate had served him. His newfound profession suited him, and he even enjoyed some of the work.​

Nothing lasts forever though.​

​

The boys became Men, and Cattivo grew ever older. He feared the Salaì's would soon come to be rid of him, and keep on his 'Sons' regardless. Fearful of this abandonment, he secretly pursued additional work for himself and his Sons. His ambition was to leave the Salaì's servitude, and strike up a criminal guild of his own. Of course, the Salaì's were a family too powerful to ever not know of this, and despite all of his secrecy and plotting, they learnt of Cattivo's scheme before it could be brought to fruition. The family were unwilling to risk any of the Sons turning on them and pledging themselves to Cattivo solely. For they knew what cunning Rogue's they had aided in creating. So a bounty was placed on each 'Sons' head, and all were cast out.​

​

It was hard initially. Cassius had all he had ever known taken from him within the space of an evening. The bounty was high, and evading Assassins and Hunters made for a gruelling existence, he was only still sixteen upon his departure. Cas left Varro for a number of years while the price on his head lost attention and traction. Eventually, and after finding himself in the Capital City, he figured a more stable, dare he even say: legal, line of work would suit well as a good cover for a while. And so he employed himself within the royal guard. Our boy lasted a solid year and a half, before being disgracefully booted forevermore. The Guard had no problem with his Combative skills or training, but those dastardly rapscallion-like tendencies couldn't help but make themselves known.​

Luckily for him, Cattivo's promise from all those years ago held true. For after his brief 'legit' professional stint, Cas set out into the world with the skills and knowledge of a rather distinguished Scoundrel, and wouldn't you know ended up doing rather well for himself. He's been in the business for years now, his reputation affording him the luxury of being able to work freely and independently. He floats from Contract to Contract, just doing whatever particular mission takes his fancy really, and what pays well enough of course. But as of late, while not swinging completely to the other end of the spectrum, he seems to be taking on and at the very least considering more, shall we say, Law-Abiding, jobs and contracts. Something must be making him consider all of this? A change of heart like that couldn't happen all on it's own, surely?​

​

Reputation:​

If you're out shopping for a Professional Knave, Cassius of Varro is one of the first and well-credited names to pop up in your suggestions. Over the years, he has earnt himself a strong and solid reputation amongst the more illicit dealings and doings of the world. But otherwise, his name amongst decent ordinary folk is relatively unknown. But I suppose that means he's been doing his job well all this time.​

​

Powers/Skills:​

✧ Quick on his feet: Literally - as previously mentioned, Cas' not exactly a heavy-set guy, and through a few good years of training and experience, it's fair to say he's pretty fast. In a number of ways too, he's a quick runner, swift to avoid a hit and practically untouchable when fleeing from suspicious situations, especially one's he's gone and caused.​

✧ Mixed Combat - He's a good instinctive fighter, but what gives Cassius his edge is most certainly his variety. His knowledge of more refined fighting techniques comes from a widespread and varied education, all accumulated in a number of increasingly dubious ways. All in all, a fast and fluid Fighter, as at ease with a sword as he is with a bow.​

✧ Good Cook! - Surprisingly good really. Unexpected I know, but let me tell you, this man sure does know his spices.​

​

Weaknesses:​

✧ Indecisive - No man is untouchable. Cassius' weakness lies in his fluidity for sure. A weakness of his that could be used by an enemy, would be to tease and lure him more into one school of combat than the other. His prowess lies within his ability to both switch and intertwine the more instinctive measures with those of a more strategic premeditation. Therefore, if an opposing fighter were able to lure him into one school of combat more, his technique would become unbalanced, and there the opening would lie.​

✧ Cannot swim - ironic really considering his love for the coast. But then again, I suppose the densely populated plains of a city like Varro aren't exactly the best place to go about practicing your backstroke.​

​

Why are they with the party?:​

It's intriguing really. Even if he kept to the more simpler contracts available to him, Cassius would make more than enough to sustain himself. But he seems intent on making just that little bit more. Be it just to nurture himself, or perhaps, possible another? is unknown.​

He took this job as the pay seemed good, the task at hand not too overly complicated. Couldn't be much more to it really.​

​

—◦✧◦✧◦—
​

​

​

"But how shall you find it, unless you seek it in the heart of life?"

​

​

My possible fighter!!

hopefully all ok but let me know if anything needs changes!!
I've withheld a few things from his bio for further reveals/plot development etc. But if you want it all out in the open let me know and i can add them in, or send them to you in a message or whate ver

​

 

[geminiy]

faeryn barlowe

the mage

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  full name

  faeryn artemisa barlowe

  nicknames

  ryn

  age

  twenty nine

  gender

  cisgender female

  sexuality

  heterosexual

  role

  the mage

  occupation

  healer
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  appearance

  Lithe, delicate, beautiful. Often likened to a flower, everything about Ryn makes her feel and look like some sort of delicate and fragile being. Honestly, she absolutely hates this but really, she can't blame them. Standing at around 5'3", she doesn't exactly make the most physically formidable foe. Pair this with her constant stumbling and naturally wonderous expressions and you've got a small, seemingly silly woman that really poses no threat to anyone.
  
  Faeryn adores warm earthy tones for her clothing, most of which she makes herself. She takes great pride in looking polished and clean, though she prefers if her clothing has function over fashion (though a mixture of both is most certainly welcome). Ryn takes great care of her long, dark hair, often plaiting it away from her face in several thick braids, showing off the thick gold earrings she constantly dons. Underneath the layers of cloth, metal, and hides lays a body covered in scars, mostly from foolish accidents that Ryn really attempts to avoid nowadays.
  

  clothing

  daily | exploration | fighting | formal

  weapons

  Although Ryn mostly fights with her magic, most often channeled through her hands, she performs better defensive spells and wards with her staff.

  face claim

  marina moschen

  soldier, poet, king

  the oh hellos
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  pet

  Ryn has had a pet raven for years, a strange little bird by the name of Elm whom seems to hate everyone but Ryn. The little guy constantly brings Ryn shiny trinkets and half-eaten mice (she's been trying to train him out of the latter hobby).
  
  

  skills

  ⭒ Healing Magic
  ⭒ Protective runes, wards, and spells
  ⭒ Really really good at growing and harvesting plants
  ⭒ Incredibly intelligent
  ⭒ Not as strong with defensive magic but, when push comes to shove, Ryn favours plant magic and simple attack spells. Ryn would much rather provide protection and healing to the team rather than to do the damager herself
  
  

  headcanons

  hc wip
  
  

  relationships

  the chosen one | tbd
  
  the monk | tbd
  
  the fighter | tbd
  
  the barbarian | tbd
  

  virtues

  
  
  〘 intelligent 〙More than anything, Ryn is incredibly smart. Studious and able to quickly pick up on things, Ryn's mind is filled to the brim with all manners of information. She picks up on tasks very easily and finds herself constantly hungry for new information. Additionally, this quick and thorough learning makes sure that Ryn can learn new spells on the fly with high degrees of accuracy.
  
  〘 selfless 〙Ryn would give her life to safe another. She'd sacrifice her health to bring a person back from death's embrace. She'd run through the night to deliver a critical message. She'd worry herself sick over the people she loves. She'd go to a far away town just to get ingredients for a special meal. To Ryn, her own being doesn't matter too much, so long as the people she loves are well taken care of.
  
  〘 adventurous 〙Look, the stationary life was never for Ryn. She wants to see the world: wander vast cities, pick mushrooms in dense forests, swim in lakes so cold and deep that she can't see the bottom. Sitting still is not Ryn's thing, so a life of adventuring was built just for her. You'll often find her leading the pack or wandering off on her own, lost in her own thoughts as she searches for new plants or experiences in the world around her.
  
  〘 playful 〙Once she's comfortable and out of her shell, Ryn is quite energetic and fun loving. The naturally sweet girl likes to have some safe fun and can often be heard cracking jokes with the others in the party. Although this part of her is often hidden and difficult to access due to her quiet and reserved nature, when Ryn fully is comfortable she is really quite fun to be around.
  
  

  vices

  
  
  〘 shy 〙Extroverted is something that Ryn simply is not. She never has had large groups of friends, nor has she ever found comfort in a large crowd. Upon first meeting Ryn, she is often quiet and will let others do the talking for her where it is possible. Ryn isn't often confrontational and will take a lot of anger and negativity if it means that she can quietly retreat into herself and not have to put herself out there.
  
  〘 pacifistic 〙Perhaps a rather interesting trait for an adventurer, Ryn doesn't really like violence. As a healer and someone with a love of life, Ryn doesn't often see the benefit of violence in any capacity. Where possible, Ryn tends to incapacitate rather than kill, escape rather than charge, talk rather than fight. She understands that sometimes fighting must happen but, if possible, she tries to avoid it. This also means she quickly stomps out arguments in favour for genuine conversation.
  
  〘 private 〙Ryn doesn't like to draw attention to herself or her past. She keeps things vague where possible and avoids her past like the plague. Ryn is also naturally distrustful of newcomers, never treating them poorly but with polite caution until they have proved they are no danger.
  
  〘 emotional 〙She'll never admit it but Ryn is deeply emotional and highly connected to the people around her. She holds those she loves at arm's length out of fear of losing them. Although she is kind and helpful, Ryn rarely lets people see past the curtain she's put up for her own protection. The way she truly feels about people can be a mystery. She also takes things very personally and, although rarely showing it, takes the pain of her loved ones on as her own.
  
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  origins

  Faeryn's beginnings are quiet and unknown fort the most part. Ryn prefers to avoid the topic of her past, particularly her beginnings, but the pieces can be put together if one listens close enough.
  
  Faeryn is the only daughter of a botanist and his wife. In Ryn's opinion, there was never much room for a child in her parents' lives, far too busy with their work to truly care for a child. Mostly raised by her grandmother on the edge of town, Ryn found herself frequently having to look after and entertain herself. Never much connecting with the other children in the small town of North Birchbrooke, Ryn often kept to herself. Not a troublesome child in the slightest, Ryn was more than happy to explore by herself. She frequented the local library, reading every book for all possible information, and could often be found feeding the village's stray cats and wild birds. Nature seemed to love her and Ryn loved it right back.
  
  From a very early age, Ryn showed signs of magical aptitude. In a town with no magic in sight, Ryn's family kept these talents very hush-hush. Instead of encouraging the young girl to hone her craft, they forced it down, kept her isolated and away from possible knowledge. This didn't stop Ryn from learning, the resourceful girl simply taught herself. When Ryn was old enough to wander off on her own, Faeryn frequently would head off into the woods to practice spells and try brewing tonics and potions. When she was eventually found out just before her teenage years (she accidentally turned some poor lady's horse into a goat, don't worry it was totally fine though and it did end up getting switched back but oh BOY that was a fiasco), her parents finally relented and sent Ryn off to a school to learn more about the magic.
  
  While away, Ryn excelled in her studies, taking a particular affinity to healing, restorative, and protective magic. Eventually graduating at the top of her class, Ryn travelled for a while as a healer's apprentice around the country. It was during these travels that she met a young merchant whom she fell deeply in love with. Wanting to settle down, marry, and start a family, Ryn and her lover moved back to her hometown of North Birchbrooke where she bought a small home and opened up an apothecary and healing shop.
  
  Everything was normal for a long while. Ryn married, her business was successful. Although the town was weary of having a mage amongst them, they eventually decided that having someone with a healing touch was better than just a regular doctor.
  
  One night, while Ryn was in the forest tending to a crop of plants she had been tending to, she heard commotion in the town. Ryn raced back only to be met with angry eyes and accusatory fingers. There was her home, alit with harsh flames, her belongings burning to the ground around her. It was then that the body of her husband was found, dead from the smoke and the fire. The blame fell on Ryn and, as the authorities were called, Ryn fled.
  
  Heartbroken, distraught. Ryn simply ran, ran until her body could take no more and then, she ran some more. Ryn had most definitely not done a thing to hurt, and now kill, her husband, yet the world had found her guilty before she even stood trial. Word got around and search parties were formed to look for the mage without any success. Ryn left, hopping in with a travelling artist. Once she was far across the country, Ryn built herself a home deep within the woods. She grew her own food, stitched her own clothes, stayed deep in the forest away from the accusatory glares.
  
  Eventually, word died down and Ryn became nothing more than a legend in her hometown. Still, Ryn was distrustful that the community she served faithfully for years would so easily turn their backs on her, painting her a monster in the light of her own distress. As Ryn slowly began to enter back into society, she found that her trust was forever marred but her love of healing still burned strong. So, she frequently travelled to heal wanderers and adventurers on the road. With no friends or family to her name, Ryn found that she enjoyed her own company far more than that of society. Content with her quiet life, although craving adventure and exploration, Ryn lived by herself for years. That was until she and her bird, a clever little Raven named Elm, found a dying adventurer in the woods...
  
  

  reputation

  Ryn likes to keep her head low, meaning that many people aren't even aware that she exists. Those who do know her, outside of those in her hometown, know that she tends to work in small groups but doesn't mind to work alone. She's a phenomenal healer and can perform protective runes, spells, and wards unlike any other mage for a low cost. Ask those from her hometown, though, and you'll get a far more sinister story...
  
  

  why is she with the party?

  Ryn has never been someone that really wants to be in a group, caring after a bunch of rambunctious warriors with what seems to be zero survival skills. Yet here she is, all because she stumbled upon one of them gravely injured. Look, Elm (Ryn's raven) found them dying in the woods, and she couldn't just leave them lying there in a pool of their own blood, now could she? Ryn nursed them back to health in her cottage and was just about to send them on their way when the rest of the party showed up at her doorstep. One thing led to another and now, Ryn travels with the party as their personal healer and protector.
  

coded by natasha.

 

[plague rats]

XI.
Silas Tavor

THE MONK

coded by xayah.ღ

Spoiler: CS

BASICS
Name: Silas Tavor
Alias: n/a
Age: 361 (Roughly middle age by human standards)
Gender: male
Orientation: Gay
Role: The Monk
Occupation: Acolyte

VISAGE
Appearance: Silas is small. Among elves he'd be perfectly average but being 5'4" and slender, along with his youthful features, means he's often mistaken for far, far younger than he is by non-elves. His ears are pointed and slightly oversized for his head but typically covered by shoulder length blond hair. He's pale and has a tired, slightly gaunt look to his face complimented by seemingly permanent dark circles under his eyes.

Faceclaim: Harry Lloyd

Clothes: Silas only owns one set of clothes. They are simple, dark linens, patched and mended so many times it's hard to say they're still the same pieces. His boots are thin, flexible leather and he wears a heavy hooded cloak most of the time.

Pets: n/a. Honestly slightly off-put by the idea of it, greatly dislikes the idea of animals being influenced by human/humanoid beliefs.

Preferred Weapons: Composite bow, magic, daggers

PSYCHE
Personality: Silas is a book that has been closed, locked, and tossed into a dark hole somewhere far, far away. While his religious upbringing gave him a great deal of control over his emotions it also resulted in a rather blunted affect. Even when he does express his emotions they often come across as insincere or performative. It doesn't help that he can be a bit... morbid. A childhood spent surrounded by corpses tends to desensitize people and his cavalier attitude towards death, decay, and gore walks the thin line between 'comfortable' and 'worryingly cheery.'

At his core he's a scholar. He has a boundless curiosity and nothing makes him happier than learning something new, whether it's from an interesting book or the insides of a species he's never seen before. While he typically prefers to listen rather than speak, asking him a question about a subject he's passionate about is a surefire way to be overloaded with mostly useless information. This fascination can come across as condescending at times- with the difference in their lifespans, even full grown humans seem like children to him at times and he's guilty of speaking to them like it.

When the need arises, he's a competent negotiator. He spent a fair amount of his youth dealing with nobles and other various authority figures and he knows how to speak to them to get what he wants without them realizing it. Despite his less than stellar social skills, there is an earnest affability in Silas- he genuinely believes in doing good and strives to show kindness to those in need. He's slow to anger and a fastidious planner, refusing to act without accounting for every variable.

This gentleness is often mistaken for weakness but part of accepting death as a natural part of life is learning when to help it along. Death may not be a punishment but it is sometimes a consequence and a necessity. For him killing is a deeply spiritual act and one he does not take lightly. All other options must be exhausted first but once he's come to a conclusion, he doesn't hesitate and pursues his goals with single-minded focus. While he's fond of intellectual debate he's incredibly stubborn and changing his mind once it's set is all but impossible.
While he tries his best to be openminded and accepting, in truth he's got a deeply hidden judgmental streak that he forces himself to ignore. But if he spends enough time around someone, he will start casually mentioning his Goddess whenever they do something he disapproves of. Just as a little reminder that someone is always watching.

Virtues: Levelheaded, diplomatic, intelligent, patient, compassionate

Vices: aloof, overly cautious, pessimistic, repressed, dogmatic

ORIGIN
Origin Story:
Silas was the second born of a set of twins and as such, his parents did the proper thing and gave him into the care of the Church of Fitheach the day he was born. If the separation was painful, Silas does not remember it. Nor does he fault them for it- twins are a horrible omen. The second one was owed to Fitheach, an elven goddess of death and fate, to spare the first's life. Better to be given to the church than be killed in his cradle like they did centuries before. And as it turned out Silas was well suited to his life.

The Elven city his family hailed from was already isolated, but the Church took it a step further. They'd retreated to an abbey deep in the woods centuries before to avoid distractions and only ventured out into the world at large when their faith called them to. Followers of Fitheach are primarily scholars and priests, studying the nature of death and performing funerary rites for any who require them. But certain members are called to a different form of service- the destruction of anything that defies the natural order of life and death. In addition to their usual religious studies, those members are trained in magic and combat so that when they are needed, they can be sent out into the world to show Fitheach's power. From a young age Silas knew this was his calling.

But elves grow slowly. Decades passed before Silas' education was complete and he was allowed out into the world to truly serve. Most of his time was spent at the abbey, attending lessons, meditating, and performing the basic acts of service required of all his fellows. These tasks ranged from tending their garden to preparing corpses for burial. Silas enjoyed his work and took a great deal of pride in it, but he was always more curious about the outside world than the others. So when his training was complete and word reached them of a necromancer terrorizing a neighboring town, Silas was more than happy to chase after them.

The actual fight was somewhat humbling. It was long and grueling and there were several moments where Silas was sure he would die. But every time he managed to dodge at just the last second or block a spell with one of his own. When he won, it was a feeling like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Guilt, which he hadn't expected, and then a quiet, content pride as he collected his reward from a grateful mayor. He hadn't been wrong- this was his calling and he was good at it. And he only got better over the next 200 years. While he was often smaller and weaker than whoever he was hunting, he would doggedly pursue them, wearing them down over days, weeks, months, as he struck from the distance.

But while Silas' faith only grew stronger over the years, the world outside was different. Elves were less and less interested in the teachings of Fitheach. They were morbid and dreary and why bother thinking about death when you lived so long? Fewer and fewer new members came each year until one year there were none. Slowly but surely their numbers dwindled and those that remained were less and less willing to go out into the world. So the rumors began- they ate their kin and robbed graves and raised the dead to do their bidding. A once revered church became a joke that children used to frighten each other. And after Silas confronted and killed a lesser noble for attempting to make himself a lich, they were shunned entirely. Some members abandoned the faith, unable to cope with the building tension.

But those that remained continued in their work. Despite the scorn it brought them Silas' faith never wavered. No longer welcome in courts or homes, he still ventured out into the world to rid it of any abomination who tried to defy his Goddess. And he would return home to what remained of his family, united and happy in their devotion.

But faith cannot do everything. Their funds dwindled and the abbey that had stood for so many centuries fell into disrepair. They did what they could with magic but with their membership dwindling and aging, they could never seem to keep up. It was a storm that did them in eventually. They'd seen it brewing all day, dark, wicked clouds that hung so low one thought they might reach up and touch them. The roof had leaked for years at that point and when the storm came, the faithful gathered in the nave and knelt in freezing water to pray.

Silas, unfortunately, had been sent off to deal with a heretic several towns away. It was a few days after the storm that he returned to find the roof collapsed. If anyone had survived they didn't stick around to tell him. What followed was several long days of clearing rubble and digging graves and performing rites and trying to remember that this was not cruel. This was the way of things. This was not a punishment for all those who had died or for Silas, who had been left behind and entirely alone.

Silas was the only one left. He couldn't return to the family that had given him up as an infant- it would only bring them trouble. And he'd been apart from the world for so long he wasn't sure how to rejoin it. So he packed what little he had and started walking. He wandered from place to place, performing his duties as best he could. He prayed and made offerings and spread the word, performing odd jobs in whatever town or village he came across to keep himself fed. And for thirty-odd years, he walked.

Reputation: Opinions on Silas and his ilk have varied wildly in his lifetime. When he was very young they were respected but people tended to avoid them unless they had need of them. As he grew older, people grew more and more distrustful of the church and most outside of his order turned away from the faith. Those that remained were reviled as cultists. But few people alive in these parts remember enough to recognize Silas for what he is or was and most who cross his path view him as harmless, if somewhat eccentric.

Powers/Skills: For the most part, Silas' magic is centered around illusion and negation, spells to weaken or deceive enemies. But in a fight he's capable of producing devastating destructive magic ranging from withering necrotic energy to gouts of flame.
Trained in basic combat, stealth, tracking, and diplomacy

Why are they with the party?: A combination of loneliness and genuine affection. Silas had never spent much time with humans before but he finds them oddly charming. They remind him of a happier time in his life, living and working among his fellow believers.

Other: The one thing Silas truly hates is the undead. While he's almost obsequiously polite in most situations, he views undeath as the highest form of blasphemy and considers it his duty to kill them.