Silanon
Four Thousand Club
For now - a placeholder for things to come. Soon... Still a placeholder, I reckon, until it's turned into an actual character sheet.
Stats by Purr:
Physical Prowess Attribute (15 +1d4): 3.
All other Attributes: 09, 15, 19, 21, 21, 22, 27 (Hot dang! Sil! Look at this! Nice choice in choosing the Turtle dice!)
Here are the rolls!
6655 22
624665 27
4665 21
5545 19
2141 09
51655 21
2555 15
Hit Point roll for 1st level: 2
Education results (1d100 x 4): 52 65 76 91
Character sheet proficiently and shamelessly copied form Purr - thanks a lot for providing it!
Alya.
To ascend, in Hebrew.
Sky or heaven, in Arabic.
That's how you know her. A fitting name, one might say, for someone constantly drawn towards the horizon. A restless soul, that one. Never quite content with how things are. And one who'd rather take flight than to challenge mankind's taint for too long. Her words, those - 'mankind's taint'. Spoken in one of her darker moods. She's one to struggle with her unnatural nature. With the clash between bird and human mind. Sometimes, the only thing those two seem to agree on is that problems are best observed from a save distance. Not because she doesn't care. But because she cares too much about too many things, and there's little hope to ever figure them out all at once.
Hers is a mind that's at its best when it's focused on a single task. Like the predator she is, with only her prey in mind. On the hunt, in the dojo, and whenever she feels like she could make a difference. A dangerous mood, that one. Hard to get her off-course, then, no matter whether she's on the path to destruction or salvation. Hard, yet not a thankless hassle. Hers is a fierce loyalty, one that each family member has quite certainly earned over the years. There are few she trusts - those in the family, quite frankly - but for those, she'd fly through fire without a second thought. Better don't make her, though. A grounded Alya might be the most insufferable thing in this world, and wing injuries come easily...
What's more to know about her? A single framed picture hangs right next to her hammock: A mighty river, connecting two oceans, and at its shores a city on two continents. Istanbul at night. The place that, once upon a time, spewed out a bird that became aware of mankind's flaws. Other than that - barely anything noteworthy. Hers is a life that only reluctantly adopts to mankind's beneficial inventions. The bare minimum of furniture leaves enough room for a battered punchbag, the large window is never closed, and there's always a half-empty can of dried meat around.
To ascend, in Hebrew.
Sky or heaven, in Arabic.
That's how you know her. A fitting name, one might say, for someone constantly drawn towards the horizon. A restless soul, that one. Never quite content with how things are. And one who'd rather take flight than to challenge mankind's taint for too long. Her words, those - 'mankind's taint'. Spoken in one of her darker moods. She's one to struggle with her unnatural nature. With the clash between bird and human mind. Sometimes, the only thing those two seem to agree on is that problems are best observed from a save distance. Not because she doesn't care. But because she cares too much about too many things, and there's little hope to ever figure them out all at once.
Hers is a mind that's at its best when it's focused on a single task. Like the predator she is, with only her prey in mind. On the hunt, in the dojo, and whenever she feels like she could make a difference. A dangerous mood, that one. Hard to get her off-course, then, no matter whether she's on the path to destruction or salvation. Hard, yet not a thankless hassle. Hers is a fierce loyalty, one that each family member has quite certainly earned over the years. There are few she trusts - those in the family, quite frankly - but for those, she'd fly through fire without a second thought. Better don't make her, though. A grounded Alya might be the most insufferable thing in this world, and wing injuries come easily...
What's more to know about her? A single framed picture hangs right next to her hammock: A mighty river, connecting two oceans, and at its shores a city on two continents. Istanbul at night. The place that, once upon a time, spewed out a bird that became aware of mankind's flaws. Other than that - barely anything noteworthy. Hers is a life that only reluctantly adopts to mankind's beneficial inventions. The bare minimum of furniture leaves enough room for a battered punchbag, the large window is never closed, and there's always a half-empty can of dried meat around.
Home.
That's what it could've been.
Cliffs. A narrow beach between endless woods and the sea. Prey to hunt, spots to hide, and the endless sky above.
No more.
These wings have grown beyond. This body has merged to be more than it should have been. And, perhaps worst of all, the mind has awakened.
And thus, sharp eyes see what's hidden beneath those trees. See the signs of a slaughter half a century past, yet not forgotten. Even now, she spots smaller and larger groups. Here to remember mankind's nature and the many lives it took back then. They walk past old defense lines. Pass through narrow trenches. Perhaps imagine the maimed bodies of ten thousands, just like she does. Canakkale Savasi. Gallipoli. Pride of nations. Where the British Empire over-confidently struck, the ANZAC legacy was forged, and the Ottoman Empire endured. And yet she sees nothing but pointless deaths where blunt arrogance and zealous pride clashed.
Mankind's heritage, it seems, for elsewhere, the ground is similarly stained with blood. Every day, every night, men, women and children are slaughtered. In the name of capitalism, communism - ideology. For religious beliefs, revenge and pride, for food and water and for cold-hearted plans. And the groundwork for it? Running straight through her own veins as well like tainting poison. The same pride, thinking herself above the others. The same ferocity where it matters. The same selfless loyalty for those close to her. The same hardened will to endure hardships, again and again.
This could have been home. Now, it is a reminder, and a warning. And, if those are ignored, perhaps a glimpse of the future. Symbol for a similar place, elsewhere, where a bird, one day, might find a human's rest. Symbol for a pointless death ahead, encouraged and sweetened by the thought that the sacrifice would eventually matter. Ask what's left of the buried bones below - isn't mankind still at war with itself, despite their struggles?
It could have been simple. The cliffs, trees, the beach. Yet it isn't. For mankind is complicated, and now a part of her. She circles lower, as close as she dares without risking detection. To remember this moment and its lessons. To take back to America what she has seen, and heard, and witnessed. Here, she can simply keep her distance. There... there are brothers and sisters on the ground, and they lack this self-preserving distance. And their struggles? They'll draw her in, she knows. For she is tainted with mankind's heritage, and part of that is the curse to care. To care enough, she knows, to forget today's lessons, to stand in for a cause that seems worthy enough.
Fine, then. Let them lit up the bonfires of purpose to guide her. Perhaps one day, they will walk the trenches and lines of her struggles, and find a lesson within. One can hope, for there is more than just mankind within them - perhaps enough distance, then, to recognize what mankind itself still fails to see. Perhaps that is why mankind should fear them the most? Not simply for being different, but for being different enough to perhaps see the pointlessness of it all. For if mankind has struggled on the same way for centuries, how scary must it be to change its ways?
That's what it could've been.
Cliffs. A narrow beach between endless woods and the sea. Prey to hunt, spots to hide, and the endless sky above.
No more.
These wings have grown beyond. This body has merged to be more than it should have been. And, perhaps worst of all, the mind has awakened.
And thus, sharp eyes see what's hidden beneath those trees. See the signs of a slaughter half a century past, yet not forgotten. Even now, she spots smaller and larger groups. Here to remember mankind's nature and the many lives it took back then. They walk past old defense lines. Pass through narrow trenches. Perhaps imagine the maimed bodies of ten thousands, just like she does. Canakkale Savasi. Gallipoli. Pride of nations. Where the British Empire over-confidently struck, the ANZAC legacy was forged, and the Ottoman Empire endured. And yet she sees nothing but pointless deaths where blunt arrogance and zealous pride clashed.
Mankind's heritage, it seems, for elsewhere, the ground is similarly stained with blood. Every day, every night, men, women and children are slaughtered. In the name of capitalism, communism - ideology. For religious beliefs, revenge and pride, for food and water and for cold-hearted plans. And the groundwork for it? Running straight through her own veins as well like tainting poison. The same pride, thinking herself above the others. The same ferocity where it matters. The same selfless loyalty for those close to her. The same hardened will to endure hardships, again and again.
This could have been home. Now, it is a reminder, and a warning. And, if those are ignored, perhaps a glimpse of the future. Symbol for a similar place, elsewhere, where a bird, one day, might find a human's rest. Symbol for a pointless death ahead, encouraged and sweetened by the thought that the sacrifice would eventually matter. Ask what's left of the buried bones below - isn't mankind still at war with itself, despite their struggles?
It could have been simple. The cliffs, trees, the beach. Yet it isn't. For mankind is complicated, and now a part of her. She circles lower, as close as she dares without risking detection. To remember this moment and its lessons. To take back to America what she has seen, and heard, and witnessed. Here, she can simply keep her distance. There... there are brothers and sisters on the ground, and they lack this self-preserving distance. And their struggles? They'll draw her in, she knows. For she is tainted with mankind's heritage, and part of that is the curse to care. To care enough, she knows, to forget today's lessons, to stand in for a cause that seems worthy enough.
Fine, then. Let them lit up the bonfires of purpose to guide her. Perhaps one day, they will walk the trenches and lines of her struggles, and find a lesson within. One can hope, for there is more than just mankind within them - perhaps enough distance, then, to recognize what mankind itself still fails to see. Perhaps that is why mankind should fear them the most? Not simply for being different, but for being different enough to perhaps see the pointlessness of it all. For if mankind has struggled on the same way for centuries, how scary must it be to change its ways?
Stats by Purr:
Physical Prowess Attribute (15 +1d4): 3.
All other Attributes: 09, 15, 19, 21, 21, 22, 27 (Hot dang! Sil! Look at this! Nice choice in choosing the Turtle dice!)
Here are the rolls!
6655 22
624665 27
4665 21
5545 19
2141 09
51655 21
2555 15
Hit Point roll for 1st level: 2
Education results (1d100 x 4): 52 65 76 91
Character sheet proficiently and shamelessly copied form Purr - thanks a lot for providing it!
Insert a picture of your character here? (Image credit: The Missing Masterpiece by RPN Backgrounds) Name: Alya
Alignment: Scrupulous at the edge to selfish? Or the other way around? (WIP)
Nature: Anarchist - to break free from mankind's shackles.
Demeanor: Masochist - at the brink of collapse, when the pain cuts through thoughts - the mind's free. (WIP)
Personality: There's a certain madness to her. An animal, trapped with a human's sharp mind. A quiet self-destructive streak to push herself further and further. To shake off her shackles. To be free, once more. And yet, that struggle, that search, has uncovered other qualities. Fierce loyalty. Selfless bravery. Strike her passion, and she'll never take 'no' for an answer.
Ethnic Background: Turkey - the country, not the bird.
Species (Human,Mutant Animal,Yokai): Mutant Falcon
Age: 19
Sex: Female
1. Archetype: Nature & Demeanor?
2. Personality (is your PC shy? Dedicated? Loyal? Compassionate? Fearful? Brave? Etc.)?
3. Alignment (as always, no Evil aligned characters)?
4. Species (Human, Mutant Animal, other)?
5. Ethnic heritage (Asian, African-American, Mexican, Mixed race, etc.)?
6. Desired Education Level (I think I would like the dice to play a part here)?
7. Martial Art System (or lack thereof)?
8. Polyhedrons or RP Nation dice roller?
Silanon - Name? (Alya!)- Falcon -Choy-Li-Fut
1. Nature: anarchist? Demeanor: Nihilist. At least for the time being!
2. Some say that she lost her passion. That she's detached herself from the world. But they'll also recall the anger, the unrest, the unhappiness below. The rage. The best and the worst of her. Perhaps with the change of environment, it will surface more often again?
3. unprincipled (the chaotic-good one) with careless-neutral tendencies every now and then.
4. Mutant animal - hawk, likely. Bird of prey, certainly.
5. north-to-middle European. Details may follow.
6. little education - she's not the most brilliant mind, and her dedication goes elsewhere.
7. in the works!
8. Polyhedrons!
Attributes:
I.Q. == (+0%/+0 to Perception)
M.E. == (+ to Saving Throws vs. Insanity)
M.A. == (+0% to Charm/Intimidate)
P.S. == (+0 to S.D.C. damage)
P.P. == (+0 to Strike, Parry, Dodge)
P.E. == (+% to Saving Throws vs. coma/death, +0 to Saving Throws vs. Magic, Pain, Poison)
P.B. == ( % to Charm/Impress)
Spd == (0 miles/0 kilometers per hour, +0 to Initiative)
I.Q. == 21 (a sharp mind behind sharp eyes)
M.E. == 15 (a mind that's often at war with itself, yet hardened by years of training)
M.A. == 09 (some can fill a room with their presence - good for them!)
P.S. == 19 (don't let her size fool you - this one's not a muscly abomination, but she definitely packs a punch)
P.P. == 18 (there's a natural grace to her every movement)
P.E. == 27 (formed by extensive training, then hardened by wind and weather - this body is made to endure)
P.B. == 22 (one who effortlessly leaves an impression)
Spd == 21 (those who can fly are rarely content to move slow like a snail)
Hit Points:
S.D.C.:
Willpower:
Size Level:
Weight:
Height:
Human Features:
Hands:
Biped:
Speech:
Looks:
Mutant Animal Powers? (Yes/No):
Martial Arts System? (Yes/No):
Natural Weapons (if any):
Vestigial Disadvantages (if any):
Level of Experience:
Combat Modifiers
Perception +0
Initiative +0
Actions per Round: 0
Strike +0
Parry +0
Dodge +0
Roll with Punch +0
Damage: +0
Other/Special:
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