Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
That would be artifact NéA to have it be without repair....
Go West (recruitment drive)
- Thread starter Haku1
- Start date
Lochar
God of Storytellers
How about Repair 1 or 2 instead of Repair 4?
Norts
Elder Member
I am...very interested in playing a high XP game. Does the one week window mean Friday is the last day, or will Saturday count as well?
So many warrior castes...wow!
So many warrior castes...wow!
Chaka
Cuddle-fiend
Preska wouldn't consider herself a warrior. She very much sees the martial arts as a path to personal enlightenment and self-control, rather than tools for warfare.
of course, the end result of her kicking you in the face will be the same, but even so...
of course, the end result of her kicking you in the face will be the same, but even so...
Tableface
Member
I'll throw in a character for this. Have to start somewhere on this board, and I've always wanted to see what can be done with Exalted at the higher power tiers. That and the West is an awesome direction.
Would it be safe to assume, given the massive amount of power these characters have, that they've been out doing amazing things for a while? Also, are there any books that should be avoided besides the Scroll of Heroes?
Would it be safe to assume, given the massive amount of power these characters have, that they've been out doing amazing things for a while? Also, are there any books that should be avoided besides the Scroll of Heroes?
Chaka
Cuddle-fiend
Scroll of Heroes' storytelling chapter is awesome.
Honestly, just run anything past Haku first. Fighting styles from the scroll of the monk should be looked over with a careful eye, but it's ok.
Honestly, just run anything past Haku first. Fighting styles from the scroll of the monk should be looked over with a careful eye, but it's ok.
Lochar
God of Storytellers
Meddij is of two paths. The warrior Lunar, and the man that still wants to be a merchantman. Possibly ruling the Western Seas is just the endpath to total economic control.Chaka said:
And you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs/ships.
Feantari
Water Sprite
I've got an idea for a twilight traveling apothecary sort that has been waiting around for awhile. I anticipate being able to post the backstory tomorrow. 
Sanguine1
Junior Member
Well looks like that concept just got blown out of the water. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with something else before Friday.Haku said:
Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
I don't see why you can't have magitech repair or... some such.
Sanguine1
Junior Member
Because the concept I was toying with wouldn't be able to make the repairs, of course I may just alter the concept.Haku said:
Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
Or get an ally who could?
Tabby
Derpsichord
Servitors! Not that you really need an excuse to have robot minions...
Norts
Elder Member
What does it take to make repairs? Cause I've got a concept for a twilight artificer, and I would think that magitech repairs would fall under that sort of thing.
Tableface
Member
The requirements for repair vary based on the Repair rating. Those are listed on page 9 of Wonders of the Lost Age.
Norts
Elder Member
Aha! That certainly answers the question. It would definitely be within my concept's capabilities, then.
Hopefully I can actually get it posted before Saturday!
Hopefully I can actually get it posted before Saturday!
Tableface
Member
So I went ahead and typed up a background for my Eclipse concept. Then edited it down. Then expanded it. Then edited it down. Then tore at my hair a bit. Then edited some more. Then undid the edit I just did. Then finally decided "to hell with it" and posted it here.
Ferem Bago, selfless sentinel of the sea and skies
"If Ignis has failed, then good; it means even He may improve Himself."
Of late rumors have been circulating around some of the islands of the West. They speak of a one-eyed man who rides in the belly of a flying whale of indescribable beauty, and whose clothing speaks of different times and places. According to some he is an empty shell who long ago filled himself with the soul of a fish, while others say he is a fish who leapt so far from the sea that he was permitted to escape it. The few tribes of the Neck who have seen him have claimed him either a demon or a god, or an emissary of the great ocean of the sky. The more world-weary simply dismiss him as a particularly bold Fair Folk who periodically sails in from the Western Wyld. The Fair Folk, when questioned, simply laugh into their sleeves, for they know the delicious truth. The man is named Ferem Bago, and all may call him what they wish, so long as he knows he has done the best he can by them.
As a young boy, Bago wandered into Cherak suffering of shock, telling a story of how his entire settlement vanished when it joined "the Procession", an event he has since been unable to describe except "it took the best part of me". Most simply took it as the natural result of his home having been located near Icewalker territory. Despite this tragedy, Bago moved forward with his life, pleasing his instructors and eventually catching the eye of House Ferem with his industrious nature and talent for management. The House adopted the boy, seeing a possible asset to exploit in the future. Now Ferem Bego, he proved just that by initiating and overseeing what was House Ferem's most daring project: the construction of an air force.
The deal was simple: fund the construction of a modest number of air ships by outsourcing the work to the Haslanti League, offering them what could be spared from the Ferem arsenal in addition to traditional payment. The Guild were permitted to act as silent partners in this arrangement, for favors owed and favors to be owed between it and Ferem. Five years ago the project neared completion, and Ferem Bago--almost bursting with pride--chose to oversee the construction of the final ship and their transferal to Cherak personally, alongside the mysterious Guild Benefactor. Unfortunately, it wasn't until all ships were in the air and en route to their destination that Bago discovered the Guild bribery had spoken louder than business arrangements; the Guild had co-opted the ships, and was intending to use them to eradicate several holdout trade outposts before their transferal to Ferem.
Unwilling to allow his project to be so misused, and unwilling to allow Ferem to be sullied and so directly associated with the Guild, Bago did the only thing he could think of: he attempted to sabotage the one ship he was on, even though it would mean his death. The light of the Unconquered Sun found him, then, and what was intended as a futile sabotage of a single ship turned to the single-handed decimation of the entire force. On the final ship he encountered the Benefactor. As the ship tilted and began its rapid descent into the White Sea, she crossly informed him he had "done little to change what was to come" before she dissolved into a black cloud of insects and flew off.
Bago was pulled from the depths by a small tribe of Sea People, and suddenly unsure of his place in the world he took this as an omen that he was to head towards the Pole of Water. The trip wasn't easy, but far less arduous than what he had already experienced, and he found passage to Wavecrest. Spurred by half-remembered atrocities from a life long ago, he sailed even further West, encountering either by serendipity or the hand of fate the island of Seahome, his place of operations ever since.
Currently Bago serves as a prominent member of the Emissaries of Perfect Water, trying his best to bring peace and stability to the West, and from there to the rest of Creation. While naval power unquestionably holds sway in the West, he still advances his desire to sail the skies, rebuilding and refitting an ancient derelict to touch the heavens both out of a sense of romance and the belief that air control can grant land and sea superiority. To date his operations have largely been limited to dropping Charm-enhanced pamphlets and messages into areas to promote peace and tolerance (and sometimes to undermine the Guild), and periodically dealing with the courts of the Fair Folk and irate spirits.
Ferem Bago knows what he is doing is not enough. So he searches for more like himself, not just to work with and work for, but to find someone worthy of the treasure he stewards but refuses to claim. A head upon which to set the Crown he traded his eye for, that he endured the worst seven days ever at the hands of the Fae to obtain. Someone to wear the purest symbol of Exalted right to rule: the Crown of Thunders.
Edit: corrected some typos
Ferem Bago, selfless sentinel of the sea and skies
"If Ignis has failed, then good; it means even He may improve Himself."
Of late rumors have been circulating around some of the islands of the West. They speak of a one-eyed man who rides in the belly of a flying whale of indescribable beauty, and whose clothing speaks of different times and places. According to some he is an empty shell who long ago filled himself with the soul of a fish, while others say he is a fish who leapt so far from the sea that he was permitted to escape it. The few tribes of the Neck who have seen him have claimed him either a demon or a god, or an emissary of the great ocean of the sky. The more world-weary simply dismiss him as a particularly bold Fair Folk who periodically sails in from the Western Wyld. The Fair Folk, when questioned, simply laugh into their sleeves, for they know the delicious truth. The man is named Ferem Bago, and all may call him what they wish, so long as he knows he has done the best he can by them.
As a young boy, Bago wandered into Cherak suffering of shock, telling a story of how his entire settlement vanished when it joined "the Procession", an event he has since been unable to describe except "it took the best part of me". Most simply took it as the natural result of his home having been located near Icewalker territory. Despite this tragedy, Bago moved forward with his life, pleasing his instructors and eventually catching the eye of House Ferem with his industrious nature and talent for management. The House adopted the boy, seeing a possible asset to exploit in the future. Now Ferem Bego, he proved just that by initiating and overseeing what was House Ferem's most daring project: the construction of an air force.
The deal was simple: fund the construction of a modest number of air ships by outsourcing the work to the Haslanti League, offering them what could be spared from the Ferem arsenal in addition to traditional payment. The Guild were permitted to act as silent partners in this arrangement, for favors owed and favors to be owed between it and Ferem. Five years ago the project neared completion, and Ferem Bago--almost bursting with pride--chose to oversee the construction of the final ship and their transferal to Cherak personally, alongside the mysterious Guild Benefactor. Unfortunately, it wasn't until all ships were in the air and en route to their destination that Bago discovered the Guild bribery had spoken louder than business arrangements; the Guild had co-opted the ships, and was intending to use them to eradicate several holdout trade outposts before their transferal to Ferem.
Unwilling to allow his project to be so misused, and unwilling to allow Ferem to be sullied and so directly associated with the Guild, Bago did the only thing he could think of: he attempted to sabotage the one ship he was on, even though it would mean his death. The light of the Unconquered Sun found him, then, and what was intended as a futile sabotage of a single ship turned to the single-handed decimation of the entire force. On the final ship he encountered the Benefactor. As the ship tilted and began its rapid descent into the White Sea, she crossly informed him he had "done little to change what was to come" before she dissolved into a black cloud of insects and flew off.
Bago was pulled from the depths by a small tribe of Sea People, and suddenly unsure of his place in the world he took this as an omen that he was to head towards the Pole of Water. The trip wasn't easy, but far less arduous than what he had already experienced, and he found passage to Wavecrest. Spurred by half-remembered atrocities from a life long ago, he sailed even further West, encountering either by serendipity or the hand of fate the island of Seahome, his place of operations ever since.
Currently Bago serves as a prominent member of the Emissaries of Perfect Water, trying his best to bring peace and stability to the West, and from there to the rest of Creation. While naval power unquestionably holds sway in the West, he still advances his desire to sail the skies, rebuilding and refitting an ancient derelict to touch the heavens both out of a sense of romance and the belief that air control can grant land and sea superiority. To date his operations have largely been limited to dropping Charm-enhanced pamphlets and messages into areas to promote peace and tolerance (and sometimes to undermine the Guild), and periodically dealing with the courts of the Fair Folk and irate spirits.
Ferem Bago knows what he is doing is not enough. So he searches for more like himself, not just to work with and work for, but to find someone worthy of the treasure he stewards but refuses to claim. A head upon which to set the Crown he traded his eye for, that he endured the worst seven days ever at the hands of the Fae to obtain. Someone to wear the purest symbol of Exalted right to rule: the Crown of Thunders.
Edit: corrected some typos
Quchu
One Thousand Club
omg I want in. o_o
Does an impulsive Sidereal (Chosen of Journeys, most likely) with an impossibly optimistic attitude and a death wish have room to fit in? I've been tinkering with a SMA recently and it kinda made me want to play again.
EDIT: SHERWOOD. I MADE YOUR AVATAR. I DEMAND CREDIT AS IT IS A COMPLETELY ORIGINAL ARTWORK THAT SHOULD BE CREDITED TO ME. I am angry like argh
Does an impulsive Sidereal (Chosen of Journeys, most likely) with an impossibly optimistic attitude and a death wish have room to fit in? I've been tinkering with a SMA recently and it kinda made me want to play again.
EDIT: SHERWOOD. I MADE YOUR AVATAR. I DEMAND CREDIT AS IT IS A COMPLETELY ORIGINAL ARTWORK THAT SHOULD BE CREDITED TO ME. I am angry like argh
Sanguine1
Junior Member
That would work but I decided to come up with something else all the same as there has already been a boat load of Combat focused applications. Question, are the flaws Child and Amnesia allowed?Haku said:
Feantari
Water Sprite
Hiana
"Creation is my teacher, only by wandering her paths can I keep them pruned."
Hiana grew up in a mid sized Haltan community. She was apprenticed to the local thaumaturge and studied the arts of alchemy and husbandry and skills related to their use. Hiana always had a sizeable wanderlust, and her elders realized she wasn't likely to stay in the community. They approached her and set her out on a task to journey to lookshy and learn from the academics there. Before she left, she was given a strange tube and told to keep it with her. Someone had an idea what her future held.
Hiana left the town and paddled the waterways without too much thought for her overall goal. She took time to stop and collect and study the various plants she encountered. She didn't plan on avoiding her charge, but she hadn't sensed much urgency from her elders on the matter. She was free. Going where the water went, she almost got herself killed a time or two, but that just added to the excitement of it.
Eventually she made her way to Lookshy and inquired on alchemists looking for apprentices. Alchemy had always been more to her liking than husbandry, but it was hard not to learn those basic proceedures living in a Haltan society, not that she was one to begrudge available knowledge. She managed to find an alchemist and physician to apprentice herself to and set to her studies. She didn't particularly like the Lookshian way of life and suspected that her elders were playing some grand trick on her.
One afternoon while contemplating where she should explore that evening her master came in and told her to grab his tools and follow him quickly. She wasn't sure he could get anywhere quickly, but she did as she was told. They hurried off to a nice villa and were ushered into a lavish bedchamber. The man on the bed was clearly a soldier by his physique and scaring, but the color of his skin betrayed the reason for her master's visit. The man's mother fretted on the other side of the bed explaining the circumstances and listing the other physicians they had contacted. Hiana tuned her out once she got to the later part and focused on the patient. He should be able to meet his death in battle not in a bed by some poison.
Hiana and her master started testing the for known poisons, but it was becoming clear that this man didn't have time for the tests and antidote trials. Hiana returned to the bedside and studied her patient. A warm glow filled the room and she saw his problem. A poison she had not seen in ages... Quickly she gathered the required herbs and mixed her antidote weaving in the complex proceedure that would boost the potency. Except, she didn't have any lungroot. In what seemed like hours she forumalted a work around. An hour after starting their work, Hiana stood up and watched the man's skin return to a life-like color as his breathing deepened. She stepped back from the bed exausted as the man's family rushed into the room only to pause in wonder at the apprentice surrounded by a shimmering green tree with the mark on the unconquered sun plain on her forehead.
Lucky for her the man's father was a shrewd dragonblooded commander and decided not to proclaim her presence to the world. He made sure she moved freely to work with the skilled crafters of Lookshy as he hoped to find in her an engineer capable of giving Lookshy the edge over its enemies. Shrewd though he was, the workings of Lookshy were not enough to keep Hiana in one place. They parted ways on amiable terms, and Hiana accepted the ornate sky cutter he offered to help protect her on the road.
Hiana wandered far learning and remembering using her skills to acquire what little she needed. Her preference for the freedom of water naturally drew her to the West where she continues to study medicine and thaumaturgy. She strives to heal the wounds of creation here, but there is much to be done.
edit: short abilities blurb
high twilight skills with craft water, fire, air, bio-genesis, and magitech
thrown weapons, and things to round out a well traveled persona
degrees in alchemy, husbandry and weather working
virtues pre-XP tweaks: Compassion 3, Conviction 1, Temperance 2, Valor 3
Virtue Flaw - Compassionate Martyrdom (Compassion)
"Creation is my teacher, only by wandering her paths can I keep them pruned."
Hiana grew up in a mid sized Haltan community. She was apprenticed to the local thaumaturge and studied the arts of alchemy and husbandry and skills related to their use. Hiana always had a sizeable wanderlust, and her elders realized she wasn't likely to stay in the community. They approached her and set her out on a task to journey to lookshy and learn from the academics there. Before she left, she was given a strange tube and told to keep it with her. Someone had an idea what her future held.
Hiana left the town and paddled the waterways without too much thought for her overall goal. She took time to stop and collect and study the various plants she encountered. She didn't plan on avoiding her charge, but she hadn't sensed much urgency from her elders on the matter. She was free. Going where the water went, she almost got herself killed a time or two, but that just added to the excitement of it.
Eventually she made her way to Lookshy and inquired on alchemists looking for apprentices. Alchemy had always been more to her liking than husbandry, but it was hard not to learn those basic proceedures living in a Haltan society, not that she was one to begrudge available knowledge. She managed to find an alchemist and physician to apprentice herself to and set to her studies. She didn't particularly like the Lookshian way of life and suspected that her elders were playing some grand trick on her.
One afternoon while contemplating where she should explore that evening her master came in and told her to grab his tools and follow him quickly. She wasn't sure he could get anywhere quickly, but she did as she was told. They hurried off to a nice villa and were ushered into a lavish bedchamber. The man on the bed was clearly a soldier by his physique and scaring, but the color of his skin betrayed the reason for her master's visit. The man's mother fretted on the other side of the bed explaining the circumstances and listing the other physicians they had contacted. Hiana tuned her out once she got to the later part and focused on the patient. He should be able to meet his death in battle not in a bed by some poison.
Hiana and her master started testing the for known poisons, but it was becoming clear that this man didn't have time for the tests and antidote trials. Hiana returned to the bedside and studied her patient. A warm glow filled the room and she saw his problem. A poison she had not seen in ages... Quickly she gathered the required herbs and mixed her antidote weaving in the complex proceedure that would boost the potency. Except, she didn't have any lungroot. In what seemed like hours she forumalted a work around. An hour after starting their work, Hiana stood up and watched the man's skin return to a life-like color as his breathing deepened. She stepped back from the bed exausted as the man's family rushed into the room only to pause in wonder at the apprentice surrounded by a shimmering green tree with the mark on the unconquered sun plain on her forehead.
Lucky for her the man's father was a shrewd dragonblooded commander and decided not to proclaim her presence to the world. He made sure she moved freely to work with the skilled crafters of Lookshy as he hoped to find in her an engineer capable of giving Lookshy the edge over its enemies. Shrewd though he was, the workings of Lookshy were not enough to keep Hiana in one place. They parted ways on amiable terms, and Hiana accepted the ornate sky cutter he offered to help protect her on the road.
Hiana wandered far learning and remembering using her skills to acquire what little she needed. Her preference for the freedom of water naturally drew her to the West where she continues to study medicine and thaumaturgy. She strives to heal the wounds of creation here, but there is much to be done.
edit: short abilities blurb
high twilight skills with craft water, fire, air, bio-genesis, and magitech
thrown weapons, and things to round out a well traveled persona
degrees in alchemy, husbandry and weather working
virtues pre-XP tweaks: Compassion 3, Conviction 1, Temperance 2, Valor 3
Virtue Flaw - Compassionate Martyrdom (Compassion)
Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
Alas... no.Sanguine said:
Quchu
One Thousand Club
Kamil Morae
"Whatever I did, it wasn't me!"
Morae was born a little bit too clever. He learned to use lies as his knife and good cheer as his shield rather quickly, which was useful during his youth as a shopkeeper in Nexus--nobody saw through the boy's feigned naivete. All the customers he cheated walked away fully convinced that it was them who cheated Morae out of the deal. Though worried of their child's moral health, it helped his parents' business, so they instead promoted Morae to sharpen his selfish wit. But of course, fate dictates that karma catch up and liars get what they deserve. Eventually the young duper's tricks piled on top of each other and the veneer of innocence rubbed off. A group of self-righteous thugs felt it necessary that the boy be taught a lesson in honest trade.
That was when Morae's future destiny as a Vizier became apparent, when he cheated the principle of karma itself. Through a serendipitous series of accidents and an amusing chase across the market district, Morae eluded the vigilantes in such a manner that showed the chasers their own bad luck (or Morae's good luck) in terminal manners. Then the boy worked his charm and nobody minded the mayhem. The people just ended up liking him more for his crazy antics. If Creation loves the child so much, then everyone else should too.
That day, Kamil Meire--an elder Reckoner--happened to be wandering in Nexus, searching for her lost daiklave. There, she felt the gentle and subtle tug that Morae's destiny exerted around him. Recognizing this to be a sign of the Maidens' favor, she spirited him away into Yu-Shan that night. Sure, proving that he indeed was an undiscovered future candidate for Sidereal Exaltation and that the kidnapping was a justifiable act was a hell of paperwork and bureaucracy, but it was a bet she couldn't lose. If he does become Exalted, then she would have one more solid ally in the Bureau of Destiny that nobody should suspect (and a test subject, as well.) If not, well, then she would get a charming boy to care for and love anyways.
And as luck would have it, Morae did become chosen by Mercury. Though his adoptive mother had reminded him that this event was written in fate (many, many times before), the experience was still quite thrilling. But the training--not so much. He did everything to dodge the strict regimen expected from newly commenced Sidereals. Good thing Exaltation made him an even better liar. Morae's dubious commitment gave him poor reputation amongst his teachers, but Meire always reassured her fellows that Mercury chose him for a reason only the Maidens understand.
Since only the Maidens could understand why Morae deserved Sidereal Exaltation, he was soon ostracized by the Five Score Fellowship. He didn't much mind--he found the society too restricting anyways. He could still serve his duty to Mercury. It was to venture off from the status quo, discover the places outside Creation and lead it into... somewhere else, Morae never was exactly sure where Mercury wanted. He tried it with the Fellowship. It sure as hell isn't what Mercury wants, since he didn't like it.
In the few centuries of his career, he has been to many places. Once, he was stranded in Malfeas for a decade (where he found his best friend). Once, he was in the cold court of the Lover Clad in Raiment of Tears, discussing the vistas of Oblivion with the Deathlord. Once, he sailed into the Deep Chaos where he lied to Advaita Iraivan. Or maybe he did none of these things. He enjoys crossing borders of all kinds--one of them being the need to say things that are true. In crossing the limits, disobeying the conventions and breaking the protocols, Morae seeks new places where the current world could go. He doesn't think whether or not these new places will actually help Creation, however--that's a job for other Exalts.
Morae regards the world with humor and absurdness. On one hand, one could say Morae brims with optimism. On the other, perhaps he just does not care--for himself or for others. He thinks in the frame of the now, leaving the future to nothing but his luck, intuition and Creation's love for him. Still, Morae lives for one reason or another. Though he does not admit it, he himself does not quite understand why he was Exalted. He is convinced that Mercury chose him for a reason, but why exactly? He has spent his entire life searching for it, but it hasn't come by yet. But he remains optimistic.
----
Not sure if the character really came through, but I gotta head to class >_< But, well, the first thing I had in mind for Morae was "Motivation: Go."
The music I was listening to while forming concept: dreamenddischarger.
EDIT: Gah, English fail.
"Whatever I did, it wasn't me!"
Morae was born a little bit too clever. He learned to use lies as his knife and good cheer as his shield rather quickly, which was useful during his youth as a shopkeeper in Nexus--nobody saw through the boy's feigned naivete. All the customers he cheated walked away fully convinced that it was them who cheated Morae out of the deal. Though worried of their child's moral health, it helped his parents' business, so they instead promoted Morae to sharpen his selfish wit. But of course, fate dictates that karma catch up and liars get what they deserve. Eventually the young duper's tricks piled on top of each other and the veneer of innocence rubbed off. A group of self-righteous thugs felt it necessary that the boy be taught a lesson in honest trade.
That was when Morae's future destiny as a Vizier became apparent, when he cheated the principle of karma itself. Through a serendipitous series of accidents and an amusing chase across the market district, Morae eluded the vigilantes in such a manner that showed the chasers their own bad luck (or Morae's good luck) in terminal manners. Then the boy worked his charm and nobody minded the mayhem. The people just ended up liking him more for his crazy antics. If Creation loves the child so much, then everyone else should too.
That day, Kamil Meire--an elder Reckoner--happened to be wandering in Nexus, searching for her lost daiklave. There, she felt the gentle and subtle tug that Morae's destiny exerted around him. Recognizing this to be a sign of the Maidens' favor, she spirited him away into Yu-Shan that night. Sure, proving that he indeed was an undiscovered future candidate for Sidereal Exaltation and that the kidnapping was a justifiable act was a hell of paperwork and bureaucracy, but it was a bet she couldn't lose. If he does become Exalted, then she would have one more solid ally in the Bureau of Destiny that nobody should suspect (and a test subject, as well.) If not, well, then she would get a charming boy to care for and love anyways.
And as luck would have it, Morae did become chosen by Mercury. Though his adoptive mother had reminded him that this event was written in fate (many, many times before), the experience was still quite thrilling. But the training--not so much. He did everything to dodge the strict regimen expected from newly commenced Sidereals. Good thing Exaltation made him an even better liar. Morae's dubious commitment gave him poor reputation amongst his teachers, but Meire always reassured her fellows that Mercury chose him for a reason only the Maidens understand.
Since only the Maidens could understand why Morae deserved Sidereal Exaltation, he was soon ostracized by the Five Score Fellowship. He didn't much mind--he found the society too restricting anyways. He could still serve his duty to Mercury. It was to venture off from the status quo, discover the places outside Creation and lead it into... somewhere else, Morae never was exactly sure where Mercury wanted. He tried it with the Fellowship. It sure as hell isn't what Mercury wants, since he didn't like it.
In the few centuries of his career, he has been to many places. Once, he was stranded in Malfeas for a decade (where he found his best friend). Once, he was in the cold court of the Lover Clad in Raiment of Tears, discussing the vistas of Oblivion with the Deathlord. Once, he sailed into the Deep Chaos where he lied to Advaita Iraivan. Or maybe he did none of these things. He enjoys crossing borders of all kinds--one of them being the need to say things that are true. In crossing the limits, disobeying the conventions and breaking the protocols, Morae seeks new places where the current world could go. He doesn't think whether or not these new places will actually help Creation, however--that's a job for other Exalts.
Morae regards the world with humor and absurdness. On one hand, one could say Morae brims with optimism. On the other, perhaps he just does not care--for himself or for others. He thinks in the frame of the now, leaving the future to nothing but his luck, intuition and Creation's love for him. Still, Morae lives for one reason or another. Though he does not admit it, he himself does not quite understand why he was Exalted. He is convinced that Mercury chose him for a reason, but why exactly? He has spent his entire life searching for it, but it hasn't come by yet. But he remains optimistic.
----
Not sure if the character really came through, but I gotta head to class >_< But, well, the first thing I had in mind for Morae was "Motivation: Go."
The music I was listening to while forming concept: dreamenddischarger.
EDIT: Gah, English fail.
Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
Please be aware that character sheet posting can wait.
Norts
Elder Member
(Ledaal) Hiei
Can this wait a minute? I need to fix that motonic condenser.
To hear Hiei tell it himself, his life before exaltation was educational, but rather boring. Raised with the expectations that his nascent genius meant he was destined to awaken the blood of the dragons, Hiei spent his youth training to take up the mantle of a defender of the Realm. When his time came, however, Hiei failed to show any sign of exaltation. His caretakers were disgusted with him. The effort, and not to mention money, they had expended for his benefit has all gone to waste. Passed off as worthless, Hiei found himself as an imperial shipwright's apprentice. It was here that Hiei discovered both his love of creating things, and especially his love of the sea. It didn't take long for his amazing mind to latch on to his new found admiration, and in only a few short years Hiei was creating ships that were works of art. It was likely this that brought the attention of Solar power.
It happened during his work on a major new project. The Imperial Navy had hired his master to create a new type of ship for them, experimenting with firedust in the hopes of creating a swift, new ship that could travel at great speed without the aid of Essence. For weeks, backing up into months, the entirety of the crew had looked at the formulae that they had laid out over and over, with no results. Each new attempt met with failure, setback, and further over-budget expenses. For the past 3 seasons, Hiei had been racking his brain, trying to put something together. It was while he visited the calming tide waters by the shop that he found his answer. As understanding began to dawn in him, Hiei raced back to the shop. As he entered, he nearly crashed into the model engine they had set up on the work room floor. Working with an alacrity he had never experienced, Hiei felt that the knowledge of the world had fallen into his mind. As he fit the final piece into place, a golden light settled over his field of vision, bathing the work room its gentle glow. With a start, Hiei found his reflection in the smooth metal of the engine. A disc of gold, shaped like a sunset glowed upon his brow. His breath caught in his throat. Turning to look at his master, his heart felt like a lead weight within him. Fear sped his heart rate, until it felt as though a mold was gyrating and bouncing through his chest.
With calm, sad eyes, his master turned his head away from his beloved student. With a barely audible voice, his master whispered toward the empty air: "I'm sorry." Holding back tears, he coughed, nearly choking his breath upon the constriction he found in his throat. With a single whisper more, he said one word: "Go."
Walking slowly with strange, heavy steps, as if within a twisting whorl, Hiei made his way from the shipwright's work room. In a dazed trance, he took one last look back to his former master, and left.
From this point on, Hiei claims not to remember a thing until he found himself bound westward from An-Teng. Finding work wherever he has been able to, Hiei has survived to become the proud creator and maintainer of a magnificent vessel, made in styles lost since the First Age, named the Horizon Runner. Having traveled in it over much of the breadth of the West, he has found himself in many an amazing place: learning sorcery from friendly elementals on the open ocean, diving to Luthe to explore the sunken ruins, collecting black jade from the sea floor to complete his own weapon, and even a single trip to Skullstone. Where he next goes, Hiei does not know, but he does know that wherever he goes he will continue to hone his craft. As he races for some ever-distant horizon, he will make the wonders that will shape the face of Creation.
Can this wait a minute? I need to fix that motonic condenser.
To hear Hiei tell it himself, his life before exaltation was educational, but rather boring. Raised with the expectations that his nascent genius meant he was destined to awaken the blood of the dragons, Hiei spent his youth training to take up the mantle of a defender of the Realm. When his time came, however, Hiei failed to show any sign of exaltation. His caretakers were disgusted with him. The effort, and not to mention money, they had expended for his benefit has all gone to waste. Passed off as worthless, Hiei found himself as an imperial shipwright's apprentice. It was here that Hiei discovered both his love of creating things, and especially his love of the sea. It didn't take long for his amazing mind to latch on to his new found admiration, and in only a few short years Hiei was creating ships that were works of art. It was likely this that brought the attention of Solar power.
It happened during his work on a major new project. The Imperial Navy had hired his master to create a new type of ship for them, experimenting with firedust in the hopes of creating a swift, new ship that could travel at great speed without the aid of Essence. For weeks, backing up into months, the entirety of the crew had looked at the formulae that they had laid out over and over, with no results. Each new attempt met with failure, setback, and further over-budget expenses. For the past 3 seasons, Hiei had been racking his brain, trying to put something together. It was while he visited the calming tide waters by the shop that he found his answer. As understanding began to dawn in him, Hiei raced back to the shop. As he entered, he nearly crashed into the model engine they had set up on the work room floor. Working with an alacrity he had never experienced, Hiei felt that the knowledge of the world had fallen into his mind. As he fit the final piece into place, a golden light settled over his field of vision, bathing the work room its gentle glow. With a start, Hiei found his reflection in the smooth metal of the engine. A disc of gold, shaped like a sunset glowed upon his brow. His breath caught in his throat. Turning to look at his master, his heart felt like a lead weight within him. Fear sped his heart rate, until it felt as though a mold was gyrating and bouncing through his chest.
With calm, sad eyes, his master turned his head away from his beloved student. With a barely audible voice, his master whispered toward the empty air: "I'm sorry." Holding back tears, he coughed, nearly choking his breath upon the constriction he found in his throat. With a single whisper more, he said one word: "Go."
Walking slowly with strange, heavy steps, as if within a twisting whorl, Hiei made his way from the shipwright's work room. In a dazed trance, he took one last look back to his former master, and left.
From this point on, Hiei claims not to remember a thing until he found himself bound westward from An-Teng. Finding work wherever he has been able to, Hiei has survived to become the proud creator and maintainer of a magnificent vessel, made in styles lost since the First Age, named the Horizon Runner. Having traveled in it over much of the breadth of the West, he has found himself in many an amazing place: learning sorcery from friendly elementals on the open ocean, diving to Luthe to explore the sunken ruins, collecting black jade from the sea floor to complete his own weapon, and even a single trip to Skullstone. Where he next goes, Hiei does not know, but he does know that wherever he goes he will continue to hone his craft. As he races for some ever-distant horizon, he will make the wonders that will shape the face of Creation.
Axelgear
General Wontwit
Because it is so rare I get a chance to enter him in... Anything, actually, I think I shall whip out the one character I've held on to longer than any other...
The Hideous Surgeon Clad In Night's Shroud a.k.a. Night Surgeon
Before his Exaltation, Night Surgeon found his life boring. Beyond boring, in fact: It, in his memory, is a pained time that he refuses to recall whenever he can choose to avoid so. Whether this is because he finds memories of times when he did good a painful reminder of what he is or simply because of his considerations for his lack of vision and wasting of materials to be like an artist remembering childhood scribbles... Well, this is left to whether someone knows him well enough yet or not, as it is most certainly the latter.
Born Ledaal Sharru, Night Surgeon was once a competent surgeon of the House Ledaal on the Blessed Isle. Never really expected to Exalt, due to his blood being so thin that he had but a single distant relation to whom he could name as a Chosen of the Dragons, Sharru set his sights as high as a mortal could in life. All who met him found him to be an intelligent man, if somewhat distant in his manner, who could describe to you with perfect accuracy where every vein in the body led, the length of any muscle... By the time of his fortieth birthday, Sharru had gone so far as to become a physician in his family's house. Nothing, of course, compared to the Exalted physicians but he could most certainly do when they were not around and always provided excellent assistance to those who, despite being his superior in many ways, could not match his intellect.
And so, the man who was Sharru would wonder if he were still alive, what would lead him into the Deathlord's clutches? Certainly a vagrant went missing here and there, a serf used for practice or transplants... Was that really such a crime? It turned out, Sharru found out later, it was.
On his way to oversee a duel between two Dragon-Blooded, and ensure neither was too badly injured, an insult caused one of the Air-Aspected participants to summon a gust that barely shifted his opponents feet, yet tore open a nearby door and hurled an unsuspecting Sharru out a window, down a four story drop to a pointed iron fence below. He tried to scream, yet no air left his lungs, for the fence-posts had left him with a punctured sternum. As life left his body, a cackling voice seemed to mock his approaching demise. Sharru called out to the voice in his mind, asking what it was.
The voice did not tell him its name, merely laughing that it "had its Eye on him". He would later find that amusing as well but, for the moment, he and the voice spoke on more pressing matters. The voice knew all the feelings he had developed over the years, the resentment, the lack of fulfillment, the desire to extend his art to its fullest; it offered him the opportunity to not only equal but surpass any who would dare claim to be his equal. Sharru laughed and asked what the voice offered. The Deathlord whispering in his ear told him the full measure of the bargain, against which the last vestiges of Sharru's humanity roiled. Sharru asked the voice for time to consider it. Three days more of life, that was all, and on the fourth he would decide. Sharru, thinking himself more cunning, would simply deny the creature and enjoy his restored life after this time. The Deathlord, seeing another joke to play, agreed. Three days more, he would linger in his body, before he could decide to leave it. Sharru thanked the voice and there was silence.
Then, the realization came that he could not move.
Three days, Sharru was a prisoner in his own corpse, held there by the powers of death. Discretely pulled from the fence-post, bound in rope, canvas and stones and hurled off the docks, he was left to the fate more than a few of his victims had been left, finding himself bobbing underwater next to the staring, grey eyes of many betrayed men and women whose lives had been cut short by a man who claimed he was a surgeon who was merely wishing to help them for the good of his own conscience, their last scream of pain seemingly forever preserved in the gazes that fell upon him. Sharru screamed for three days in nightmarish torture until his mind could take no more and broke. The screams became laughter, without any pause between them.
When the Deathlord's whisper returned after three days, Sharru accepted the bargain. As the remains of his victims awoke around him as the moaning dead, the mark of the Unclean burst into life on his forehead and he rose slowly from the waters as the ropes fell apart around him. Rising from the waters, he returned to his Great House, flooded with confidence. Come the next morning, Sharru was gone, disappearing with a ghostly envoy through a small shadowland hidden in a closet elsewhere on the isle. In his wake, he had left the entire manor he had lived in a charnal house, walls sprayed with blood and bodies left artistically posed and hung from place to place.
Since then, Night Surgeon has been a servant of the Eye and Seven Despairs. Chosen by his master because of how much he reminded him of himself, Night Surgeon proved himself every bit like his master, in that he was hardly loyal to the one to whom he pledged service or that interested in damning the world into Oblivion. However, luckily for him, his new desires met up with the Neverborn's. Interested only in creating bigger and better monsters, Night Surgeon will one day cast the whole world into Oblivion with the birth of his most hideous monstrosity yet. Until then, he commits little blasphemies, one at a time, as well as perpetrating what can only be considered jokes in minds with the darkest senses of humour.
After pulling a particularly daring scheme, Night Surgeon has since been seen in the West. Despite having no allegiance to the Silver Prince, the presence of a deathknight in the West has certainly soured Skullstone's reputation a little, and Night Surgeon is doing nothing to correct the mistake, finding the damage he does rather humorous. He cares nothing for mortal life, merely moving on from massacre to massacre, using the aftermath to build a better tool for the next one.
Lately, though, Night Surgeon is bored. Very bored. Murdering mortals is hilarious, certainly, but he's running out of good jokes. He wants to destroy something else, something better. As such, he is looking at joining another group of Exalted, in a quest to destroy something else. An empire, a horde of demons, it doesn't matter to him. The unrepentant lust for crafting greater and greater monstrosities is the only thing that matters to him, and an alliance that gives him purpose will most certainly give him amusement to last quite a while.
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I actually have a few images of Night Surgeon. He's an Appearance 0 Abyssal, for sure. The song that inspired him is Night Surgeon from Repo: The Genetic Opera.
The Hideous Surgeon Clad In Night's Shroud a.k.a. Night Surgeon
Before his Exaltation, Night Surgeon found his life boring. Beyond boring, in fact: It, in his memory, is a pained time that he refuses to recall whenever he can choose to avoid so. Whether this is because he finds memories of times when he did good a painful reminder of what he is or simply because of his considerations for his lack of vision and wasting of materials to be like an artist remembering childhood scribbles... Well, this is left to whether someone knows him well enough yet or not, as it is most certainly the latter.
Born Ledaal Sharru, Night Surgeon was once a competent surgeon of the House Ledaal on the Blessed Isle. Never really expected to Exalt, due to his blood being so thin that he had but a single distant relation to whom he could name as a Chosen of the Dragons, Sharru set his sights as high as a mortal could in life. All who met him found him to be an intelligent man, if somewhat distant in his manner, who could describe to you with perfect accuracy where every vein in the body led, the length of any muscle... By the time of his fortieth birthday, Sharru had gone so far as to become a physician in his family's house. Nothing, of course, compared to the Exalted physicians but he could most certainly do when they were not around and always provided excellent assistance to those who, despite being his superior in many ways, could not match his intellect.
And so, the man who was Sharru would wonder if he were still alive, what would lead him into the Deathlord's clutches? Certainly a vagrant went missing here and there, a serf used for practice or transplants... Was that really such a crime? It turned out, Sharru found out later, it was.
On his way to oversee a duel between two Dragon-Blooded, and ensure neither was too badly injured, an insult caused one of the Air-Aspected participants to summon a gust that barely shifted his opponents feet, yet tore open a nearby door and hurled an unsuspecting Sharru out a window, down a four story drop to a pointed iron fence below. He tried to scream, yet no air left his lungs, for the fence-posts had left him with a punctured sternum. As life left his body, a cackling voice seemed to mock his approaching demise. Sharru called out to the voice in his mind, asking what it was.
The voice did not tell him its name, merely laughing that it "had its Eye on him". He would later find that amusing as well but, for the moment, he and the voice spoke on more pressing matters. The voice knew all the feelings he had developed over the years, the resentment, the lack of fulfillment, the desire to extend his art to its fullest; it offered him the opportunity to not only equal but surpass any who would dare claim to be his equal. Sharru laughed and asked what the voice offered. The Deathlord whispering in his ear told him the full measure of the bargain, against which the last vestiges of Sharru's humanity roiled. Sharru asked the voice for time to consider it. Three days more of life, that was all, and on the fourth he would decide. Sharru, thinking himself more cunning, would simply deny the creature and enjoy his restored life after this time. The Deathlord, seeing another joke to play, agreed. Three days more, he would linger in his body, before he could decide to leave it. Sharru thanked the voice and there was silence.
Then, the realization came that he could not move.
Three days, Sharru was a prisoner in his own corpse, held there by the powers of death. Discretely pulled from the fence-post, bound in rope, canvas and stones and hurled off the docks, he was left to the fate more than a few of his victims had been left, finding himself bobbing underwater next to the staring, grey eyes of many betrayed men and women whose lives had been cut short by a man who claimed he was a surgeon who was merely wishing to help them for the good of his own conscience, their last scream of pain seemingly forever preserved in the gazes that fell upon him. Sharru screamed for three days in nightmarish torture until his mind could take no more and broke. The screams became laughter, without any pause between them.
When the Deathlord's whisper returned after three days, Sharru accepted the bargain. As the remains of his victims awoke around him as the moaning dead, the mark of the Unclean burst into life on his forehead and he rose slowly from the waters as the ropes fell apart around him. Rising from the waters, he returned to his Great House, flooded with confidence. Come the next morning, Sharru was gone, disappearing with a ghostly envoy through a small shadowland hidden in a closet elsewhere on the isle. In his wake, he had left the entire manor he had lived in a charnal house, walls sprayed with blood and bodies left artistically posed and hung from place to place.
Since then, Night Surgeon has been a servant of the Eye and Seven Despairs. Chosen by his master because of how much he reminded him of himself, Night Surgeon proved himself every bit like his master, in that he was hardly loyal to the one to whom he pledged service or that interested in damning the world into Oblivion. However, luckily for him, his new desires met up with the Neverborn's. Interested only in creating bigger and better monsters, Night Surgeon will one day cast the whole world into Oblivion with the birth of his most hideous monstrosity yet. Until then, he commits little blasphemies, one at a time, as well as perpetrating what can only be considered jokes in minds with the darkest senses of humour.
After pulling a particularly daring scheme, Night Surgeon has since been seen in the West. Despite having no allegiance to the Silver Prince, the presence of a deathknight in the West has certainly soured Skullstone's reputation a little, and Night Surgeon is doing nothing to correct the mistake, finding the damage he does rather humorous. He cares nothing for mortal life, merely moving on from massacre to massacre, using the aftermath to build a better tool for the next one.
Lately, though, Night Surgeon is bored. Very bored. Murdering mortals is hilarious, certainly, but he's running out of good jokes. He wants to destroy something else, something better. As such, he is looking at joining another group of Exalted, in a quest to destroy something else. An empire, a horde of demons, it doesn't matter to him. The unrepentant lust for crafting greater and greater monstrosities is the only thing that matters to him, and an alliance that gives him purpose will most certainly give him amusement to last quite a while.
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I actually have a few images of Night Surgeon. He's an Appearance 0 Abyssal, for sure. The song that inspired him is Night Surgeon from Repo: The Genetic Opera.