Fantasy Gate of the Unknown (CS)

[Melon Bomb]

Character Sheet for Gate of the Unknown
(this is only a template, you can make your own as long as you have all the necessary information)​

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Race:

Faction/Occupation:

Personality:

• Equipment & Abilities
• Biography

• Equipment:
  
  [Weapon]
  [Armor]
  [Curio]
  
  Abilities:
  
  [Magic]
  [Skill]
  
• Biography:
  

Spoiler

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Name:

Age:

Gender:

Race:

Faction/Occupation:

Personality:

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[Weapon]
[Armor]
[Curio]

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[FONT=Book Antiqua][/tab][tab=Biography][FONT=Book Antiqua]Biography:
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[EmeraldSplash]

Name: Doriah Coldwell

Allias: Woodpecker

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Race: Fae (Wingless)

Faction/Occupation: An assassin, working for the one who pays the most.

Personality: Cunning of an assassin helped her in a lot of situations. However apart from that, her personality seems pretty closed up, reserved.
At times, almost shy. She does not care for others, for she knows no one who would do differently than to laugh at her. Shaming her.
Social skills = Miserable.

• Equipment & Abilities
• Biography

• Equipment:
  
  [Weapon 1: Dagger of Whispers] - A small dagger decorated with a red piece of cloth connected to the handle. The dagger speaks to the one who wields it. It offers a pair of eyes.
  
  [Weapon 2: Ripper's Blade] - A standard short-sword with a twist. The blade has a modification a little sharp ridges are drilled into it. A cruel way to go... Woodpecker's specialty.
  
  [Weapon 3: Hawk's Tear] - A longbow. It is rumored that Woodpecker not even once hit her target with this weapon.
  
  [Armor: The Mourning] - A standard light armor with steel shoulder plates and knee pads. It offers low protection but high flexibility.
  
  [Curio: Ruby necklace of sight] - Grants vision in form of colors around targets head. The color resembles the past of the target.
  
  
  
  
• Biography: A girl needs attention, but not the bad kind. The kind this young girl had. Born in The Grove she was surrounded by other entities of her race. As soon as her eyes opened she saw disgust in the eyes of her older Faes. Wingless little defenseless girl grew up in such environment seeing hate, seeing nothing... but hate. Little by little she lost her emotions. Little by little she locked herself in a shell. In her fragile body.
  The time came when she's had enough and left everything behind. The Grove... her relatives, she ventured into the unknown lands. Well unknown to her.
  Nothing is known about her since this point.
  She moves as a shadow with no friends or loved ones. Enjoying lovers and cheap men. From city to city she roams fulfilling contracts. Woodpecker is the name of the most well-known assassin. No one knows his real name or his real face. And it will stay that way.
  

 

[AsterRose]

Name: Chrys-Anne Saltgrove

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Race: Fae

Faction/Occupation: Triune Collective

Personality: Chrys is excited by many things in life, but none more than the people she “meets” and the trinkets she “collects”. She has always been fascinated by stories and histories, often giving stories to meaningless items so others can see greater value in them. Many times she will trade items, other times she would steal them. Chrys is full of curiosity and mischief. Her goal in life is to become a legend like those she had been told growing up, even if it means stealing someone else's credit for it.

• Equipment & Abilities
• Biography

• Equipment:
  
  [Weapon] Two hand knifes with rusted handles.
  [Weapon] A hand carved quarterstaff decorated with “powerful runes” which are really just chicken scratch.
  [Weapon] A light crossbow with a quiver of infinite arrows.
  [Armor] A lightweight black breastplate.
  [Armor] Leather armguards worn over the top of gloves.
  [Curio] A satchel that can carry 30kgs worth of items of any size without weighing down the holder.
  
  Abilities:
  
  [Magic] Chrys is proficient in psychic magic. She can influence the minds of others and use her magic to telekinetically control things.
  [Skill] Incredibly stealthy and dexterous, even without her flight.
  
• Biography: This is what Chrys only tells you about her.
  She grew up in the grove and her family was apparently exiled when she was 10, thus she moved to the Triune Collective. Her mother dealt in artefacts, magical or not, and would trade, buy, and sell them. She apparently made a fortune within a month. However, while Chrys loved her mother’s interests she wanted to start a life and collection of her own from scratch, just like her mother did. So she travelled first her homeland then the whole realm, searching for these items.
  

 

[Melon Bomb]

Name: Margaret Wynn

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Occupation: Adventurer

Personality: Margaret is a very emotional person. Not in the 'cries after reading a sad book' kind of way, but in every conceivable way. Her joys are full of life and energy, her downs are long and miserable, and her anger is truly another beast to behold. She used to be rather ashamed of her emotional side growing up, but has since come to accept who she is and wears her personality in full stride. When she isn't feeling so intensely over something or other, she is a bouncy fellow who is fond of light ribbings and talking to new people. Interestingly, her moral compass is a harsh one that favors a survival of the fittest mindset. Might isn't the only thing that makes right - cheating, lying, and backstabbing, all are fair game in life! But she would never do that to the people she likes, of course. Unless they deserve it.

• Equipment & Abilities
• Biography

• 
  
  Equipment:​
  
  [Weapon: Iron Mace] While swords are the popular choice over the more unwieldy mace, its ability to crush armor can't be dismissed.
  
  [Weapon: Iron Dagger] Always comes in handy.
  
  [Stele: Unnamed Staff] A staff built from ash wood that is clearly magical in nature, but Margaret refuses to say what it does.
  
  [Tool: Oil Lantern] Plenty of oil and matches stocked up for all of her adventuring needs.
  
  [Tool: Rope] Climbing sucks, but sometimes you have to do it. Can also be used to tie up goons.
  
  
  Abilities:​
  
  [Skill: Appraisal] As a studied adventurer, Margaret has picked up the ability to approximate something's value at a fair market price.
  
  [Skill: Heavy Drinking] For whatever reason, Margaret does not get buzzed from drinking alcohol. Supposedly a trait she inherited from her great grandfather. She has genuinely made a ludicrous amount of money winning bets in bars - no self-respecting booze hound could save face for turning down a drinking challenge from a little girl, after all. The only time she lost was because she was too full to drink more, even though she wasn't drunk. As an aside, Margaret hates the taste of alcohol.
  
  [Skill: Decent Fighter] Margaret's father was a military man, even she could not escape an early life of toil and 'self defense training'. Admittedly, it prepared her travels moreso than she could've imagined, as her relentless practice had saved her skin on many an occasion (if only barely).
  
• 
  
  Biography: ​
  
  Margaret's mother was a noblewoman, her father a decorated knight in the service of King Istoria. Oh, how piteous it was to be the first child to this dreadful family. Though she was pampered well enough in her first few years - years she has no recollection of whatsoever - when her brother came along, all of their attention diverged to their new baby like someone had just flipped a switch on her. He got to grow up quite the spoiled brat, while Margaret's status as the secondary child meant that all their parental lovey-dovey hogwash dissipated like a puff of smoke. Now she wasn't a child anymore (she was six), but a future heir of the family.
  
  Sir Wynn did not hold back a single ounce in training Margaret, grooming her to become a proud knight like he was. Every day was rigorous exercise, drilling of strategic theory, and pledging allegiance to their amazing and wonderful king who was so inspiring and intelligent or whatever. Anyway, eventually Margaret got sick of being expected to fill her father's shoes and putting up with this insane regimen of daily workouts, so she simply up and left. Ran from home. Didn't even say 'bye'.
  
  With no real role models, no money, no plan, and a walking stick she nicked from the family treasury, she wandered off into god knows where, wondering what the hell she was going to do next. But soon, she would come to realize that her walking stick was no mere walking stick - it was a magic item, and a powerful one at that. Using it to her advantage, she picked up any job she could excel in, but never stayed around for long. She hated working, it turned out. If she was going to make money, she would make sure it would either be super easy, or a hell of a lot of fun. That's when her interest piqued in the 'profession' of adventurers. Dungeon raiders, bounty hunters, natural scavengers... in essence, people who gambled with their life for the promise of discovering hidden fortunes. And what better way to test her luck than to await what lies beyond the gate?

Spoiler: Artist

Erke Lee

 

[Fred Colon]

Spoiler: Donovan

Name: Donovan O’Kain

Age: 79, though he looks much younger

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Faction/Occupation: Wanderer/Vagabond

Personality: Donovan is meek and unassuming. He likes people, but is often awkward and scared of upsetting or disappointing others. He’s actually quite skilled in many things thanks to his long and difficult life, but underestimates his abilities considerably. His favorite thing in the world is a comfortable bed to sleep in and a nice warm meal.

Equipment:

Survival Gear: Donovan carries an assortment of tools that let him survive in the wild. Rope, Flint and tinder, a tent for sleeping in, his favorite walking stick.

Plain Short sword: A plain short sword he has had some training in.

The Coffin: the mysterious Coffin that Donovan carries. He must be touching it at all times. Any attempt to remove it from him will fail and cause him great pain. It whispers to him every so often, telling him to travel to the destinations it specifies. It is the source of Donovan's immortality, and he desperately wishes to be rid of it.

Abilities:

Survival Skills: Donovan knows how to take care of himself in the wild. Skilled at trapping small game in snares and finding/building shelter.

Short Sword: Donovan fights but rarely. When he has to he uses his Short Sword. He is mildly proficient with it, but often opts to flee rather than fight, as he is mediocre at using it.

Immortality: Donovan is truly immortal. He does not age and cannot be killed. He can be hurt, starved, drowned and a number of other unpleasant things, however, resulting in a never ending agony.


Background:
A human born in the kingdom of Rhine, Donovan was unexceptional and unambitious. The son of a well to do merchant family, he wanted little more than to inherit his father's business, hire someone to manage it for him, and live his life enjoying good food, women and whatever else tickled his fancy.

That changed, however, when he took a trip past one of the forests the Fae called home. Dismissive of the 'lesser races' as many humans were, Donovan kept riding, even as he saw a large procession of Far folk carrying a coffin, their heads hung low. Rather than follow suit he spurred his horse on. Something about the dark coffin they carried unsettled him deeply.
They Fae all looked to him as he passed, until one of them stepped into his way.
“It’s fortunate you came this way, Donovan O’Kain.” The Fae man said,
“I wish to pass. Step out of my way and continue with your funeral.”
“Oh, but Donovan, you’ve come just in time! You’re living an indolent life, you’re to take our burden and see if it doesn’t make something more out of you.”
Suddenly the Fae surged forwards as one, and knocked Donovan off his horse. They held him down, and then strapped the coffin they carried to his back.
That done, they all scattered, fading like the wind. Something in the Coffin whispered to him;
Bury me.
It said, and gave him the place it was to be done..
Donovan tried to remove the Coffin, but found himself incapable of it. For months he tried everything he could, but to no avail. Eventually he decided to listen to the coffin, and set out to find the place the Coffin had spoken of. But when he arrived, much to his terror, the dead rose with a howl and declared NO MORE ROOM. NOT FOR YOU OR YOUR CHARGE. And Donovan fled in fear. The coffin whispered again,
Bury me.
And gave him a new place to go.
This time no dead tried to stop him, but a ring of bright silver flared to life, blocking his path to the gravesite. Donovan eventually retreated.
Bury me. The coffin said again. But no matter where Donovan went he was rebuffed. He traveled for years, and found that not only he could not age, but he could not die, no matter how much he might wish to.
Donovan has become a humbler man, a kinder one. But still the coffin will not leave him.
Eventually, though, the Coffin whispered something new.
The Gate will Open. Bury Me.
And he was told of a location he had never heard of. Confused, but hopeful that this time would be different, Donovan set out to brave the gate. He’s been outside, waiting for the past few weeks for the appointed time. Donovan will do what he now sees as his duty, and reclaim his life.

 

[BugDozer73]

Name: Thamior Amakiir



Age: 30

Gender: Male

Race: Beastfolk (Bear/Badger)

Faction/Occupation: Adventuring Shaman

Personality: Like Earth, Thamior is hard and unmoving, as stubborn as they come. He Is used to traveling alone, and is shy around people. Beast folk have a hard enough reputation as it is, but being a blood Chimera has made what interactions he has had with others almost entirely unbearable. Instead, he prefers to spend time with nature and animals, letting his soft and tender nature flow as freely as his magic.

• Equipment & Abilities
• Biography

• Equipment:
  
  [Weapon] Besides his brute strength and stature, Thamior has razor sharp claws that can cut through rocks.
  [Armor] Typically, Thamior wears very light leather straps and padding, but most of his body is bare.
  [Curio] a pouch with a single rune for life painted on the front, it is able to produce any seed the wearer thinks of.
  
  Abilities:
  
  [Magic] Thamior has control of earth and can manipulate it to fill his needs. He also has the ability to affect plant life, making it grow, strengthen and bloom at his whims.
  [Skill]
  
• Biography:
  There are no good stories about Blood chimeras. People fear power they do not have, and they fear things that they cannot explain.
  
  Thamior was one of two Beastfolk, brothers of nature, who roamed and provided healing and aid to people in conflict. Born in Vanorak, the brothers quickly learned about their power and the danger that came with wielding it. They traveled, practiced in secret, and provided healing and protection for those who suffered at the hands of the cruelty of the kingdom.
  
  The brothers began to gain notoriety as many who were meant to have died still walked in the light. Thamior, The bear, and Tharivol, The Badger, were quickly recognized and confronted by elitists who condemned them from using their magic. In a quickly escalating conflict, they rose to combat, using their size and animal skills to try and hold back the aggressors but quickly succumbing to their numbers. Tharivol was struck with an axe to the shoulder, sending Thamior into a fury. With a pulse and of amber yellow magic, he slammed his palms to bare earth and allowed his magic to erupt, and the ground shook, and crumbled, and the people fell and were crushed. After the shaking stopped, all that remained was the Bear Thamior, hovering over his dying brother.
  
  "Thamior... I am dying. Eat of me, so that my magic might not die with me" Tharivol begged Thamior, who in tears, obliged. A new power grew in him, one of life and of healing, but a healing that would never reach the scar that now dominated his heart.
  
  Thamior then travelled, still helping those in need, but with no smile on his face. He had made a promise, that day as his brother laid dying, that he would find a way to end the violence of that cruel kingdom. Maybe, behind those doors, he would find the power to bring them to their knees.