Fantasy King Slayers-The last Kingdom- CS.

[Doomyfish23]

Spoiler: Rules

1. Mortal races only. Humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, halflings, etc no demons, angels of hybrids. Monster creation is allowed only for accepted players.

2. No metagaming ,power playing, or god modding. Our characters are not intended to be the best we are simply chosen. In fact we are supposed to he Unlikely heroes. We will grow stronger, but we start as a ragtag group of tough adventurers. Not legendary heroes...we earn that.

3. No characters younger than 16, nor older than 30. Plot reasons i neednt digress.

4. If i ask you to change something please dont get offended. Odds are its a plot related thing and i will try and work it in any way i can before rejecting an idea if i cant find a fit in the plot.

5. Be kind to one another. You dont have to be best friends in character or even nice. But out of character we are at least kind to each other. Dont be "that guy"

Spoiler: The CS skeleton

Faceclaim: (can include height and weight if you wish and other details.)

Name:

Age:

Race:

Class:

Gender:

Personality: (a paragraph)

History: (a paragraph minimum.)

Abilities: (these are like powers they are unique to your character or their species or family. Dont go overboard.)

Skills: (learned abilities that you have gained over time.)

Magic: (Magic spells and such. Be detailed please. Magic is not a all powerful force in this rp just another tool to be used.)

Gear: (Include weapons, Armor, and travel gear.)

Likes: (minimum 5)

Dislikes: (^)

Other: (anything else i missed.)

 

[Doomyfish23]

Gm's roster.

Spoiler: Jethro the Pugilist

Standing at Six foot eleven inches and weighing in at a whopping 395lbs, The Orc Jethro is a massive and intimidating figure. His tattooes and Smile fo little to alleviate this.

Name: Jethro Stoneborn

Age: 26yrs

Race: Orc

Class: Pugilist

Gender: Male.

Personality: Jethro is a surprisingly Calm and carefree orc, especially one of his profession. He is encouraging to friend and foe alike and seems to have an obsession with strengrh, his definition of which changes as often as a high end escort does her clothes. He seems to have a uniquely optimistic outlook on life, everything being an opportunity to grow, even defeat or death. However he is also annoyingly bold and painfully uneducated. For him most problems can be solved with his fists, and those that cant he will punch anyway just for good measure. That said his dedication is the stuff of legends, he is able to will himself through pain, Grief, and sometimes even death.

History: Jethro was born to a pair of orcs who met and worked at the Southern Midra stone quarry together. Shortly after their meeting they were married and young jethro was born. As with most orclings Jethro was a rowdy and rambunctious child who often got into fights and scuffles with the other children. However he was small and skinny on account of his family being rather poor. As such he wasnt the strongest of boys and spent plenty of time hitting the pavement when the bigger boys came around. Yet something in him made even the times he lost fun, fighting it seemed was this boys life.

At the young age of 14 he had grown rather tallb though still skinny, and he found an underground fighting ring in the port city of Midra Delta. He quickly learned that as good as he thought he was, there were many who were better. In nearly three years and thirty matches he had only ever won 2, 28 of them he was knocked out or otherwise beaten. That was until his parents demanded he help in the stone quarry. He obliged and helped them to mine the stone for a year as he replayed his previous matches in his mind. The extra money afforded his family more food, which paired with the constant exercise made him grow to his intimidating proportions. There he met his friend Uto the orcish skin stainer, a respected elder of the cities orcish population and one of the few practitioners of the traditional way of staining...a needle and a painful poison ink.

For a year Jethro worked for m, Grew, and acted as a canvas for Uto, purposefully selecting more and more painful processes. His time spent with the old orc caused him to bond to the Skin stainer. He would listen to the stories of his ancestors as he gritted his teeth through each ceremonial image. However it was not to last. Uto was nearly seventy six and adhereing to the old ways was hardly a healthy lifestyle. After a severe stroke the elder found himself on his deathbed. Jethro came to him and was the one to hear his last words. He told him to stop playing in a hole with rocks, clearly to him jethro was a warrior not a miner. With that he passed leaving Jethro all he owned including a rather large gathered fortune.

The orc gave the money to his parents and heeded his friends words. He left the quarry and went back to the fighting ring he had known. As it turned out years of hauling rock and subjevting himself to intense pain had made him much stronger and much tougher. Enough so that he managed to secure several victories. A few more losses came his way, however as he grew more and more experienced and surprised his foes with his unique trademark ability they became fewer and further between. In recent years Jethro has a total fight record of 33 losses and 66 wins, and 1 draw. Much to the frustration of both him and his opponents however he has found after a 12 win streak that his accumulated techniques and raw might has put him in a league of his own among underground fighters. Growing restless the orc has decided to test his luck in other combat venues, seeking to grow even more powerful by facing down the biggest threats he can.


Abilities:
Sturdy Species- Orcs are well known for having high levels of strength and durability. Jethro is no exception and in fact seems a stellar example of an orc in his prime. Able to lift upwards of 800lbs and shrug off kicks from a mule Jethro is one tough orc.

Skills:
The Old way-
A way of life which is known to the orcs. Comfort by contest. They Enjoy combat with their own two hands and though not as finessed as a monk they are trained to hit hard enough that they can sometimes shatter their own hands on their foes. The Skin staining tradition builds heavy resistance to poisons while drastically increasing the pain tolerance of the orc allowing them to continue and hit their foe even after shattering their hand. They are experts in all things strength related and can endure nearly anything.

Magic:
Skill Scan- Jethro is unaware of this but part of the stories and orcish runes that were etched into his body by Uto was to imbue him with two of three sacred orcish abilities. The furst of these two being the Skill Scan ability which allows the holder to copy any combat skill that is used in their vacinity as long as they possess the right number of appendages to do so and of course the proper equipment.

Magebane- The other of the two abilities is tge magebane ability which allows the user a heavy magical damage resistance, and a resistance to most enchantments. Sadly this includes healing magics.

Gear:
Jethro has a Fanny pack containing his coins, a 10 ft chain, some spices for eating, a fork, and Uto's skin Staining needle and his poison ink.

Likes: Brawling, Food, excessive alcohol, people who stand up for what they beleive, Kids, People admiring his stains and/or muscles.

Dislikes: Cowards, Weapons, those who cant take a punch, Insects (only the small kinds), Stone Quarries.

Other: Jethro is illeterate, he only speaks Common and Orcish and can read in neither. He consoders most magic to be mumbo jumbo and is unaware of the fact that his Skin stains are magical in nature.

 

[GreenEyedStranger]

Faceclaim: (can include height and weight if you wish and other details.)



Name:

Murmur

Age:

6 years since creation. Soul is roughly 28 years old

Race:

Artificial Construct, Soul-Imbued Golem

Class:

Rogue

Gender:

Not applicable

Personality:

Murmur always manages a way to act eccentric at exceedingly awkward times, either through a strange dance or fashion of movement. Indeed, this eccentric construct has little comprehension of societal norms, though it tends to remain vocally silent most of the time. When not on an assignment or command, Murmur is awfully playful, even going so far as to pick up juggling as a hobby and having the same giddiness a child would have. However, as soon as Murmur is given a command by someone with the correct spell, it silently assumes a deadly, stoic demeanor. If asked, Murmur could give an entire catalog of ways to end someones life with a simple household object. These brief glimmers show a more sadistic side of an otherwise peaceful automaton.

History:

Less than a century ago, a brave knight ventured out into the dark forest, attempting to find his love who had been stolen away by the fae. The knight knew his quest to save his love was oft-repeated, yet he continued with eagerness and courage. However, along his way, ready to face the faeries, the knight came across a witch along the bridge. Seduced by the witch, the knight slowly forgot his quest, leaving his love to uncertain fates. The knight stayed with the witch for a couple years, until one night his senses briefly glimmered back. Feeling warm nostalgia of his home, he attempted to return, only for the witch to catch him in the act of trying to run away. Quickly, she had drained his soul and transfused it into a golem, forever to serve her along with her other servants. For a few years after, the knight-golem would be the witch's most favored enforcer, even going so far as to murder and poison potential rivals. Yet, just as the witch's grand schemes were starting to come to fruition, she died of a fatal heart attack. With no more commands, Murmur fell into a deep inactive coma, it's head silent. Many decades later, however, the automaton would emerge again, feeling a twinge of spirit awaken. It had enough time to think about the silence in it's head. It would find it's master again or... Or what? It had not yet thought about that...

Abilities:
-Completely Silent movement.
--The soft material that make up Murmur's body makes barely any sound on contact with any surface, leading to silent entries.

-Ability to climb walls.
--Using hooks and daggers, Murmur can climb some surfaces, such as wood and stone.

-Amazing acrobatics
--Being made of enchanted material and lacking rigid bones, Murmur can bend into inhuman shapes, and perform acts of unnatural acrobatics.

Skills:
-Poison mixing
--Able to create deadly poisons from herbs gathered commonly

-Assassination
--A lifetime of experience grants Murmur the knowledge of where to put knives in people to make them stop moving. Murmur doesn't like it when they squirm too much, so it likes doing this quickly.

-Knife throwing
--Though not trained with ranged weapons, Murmur has been trained to expertly throw knives for that perfect long range assassination.

Magic: (Magic spells and such. Be detailed please. Magic is not a all powerful force in this rp just another tool to be used.)

-Smoke cloud
--Conjures a fierce smoke cloud from within before spewing it out in a grand display. Makes for excellent getaways

-Poison cloud
--Similarly conjures a cloud of deadly toxins from within before spewing it out at a desired location. Useful for flushing people out or eliminating multiple targets.

Gear: (Include weapons, Armor, and travel gear.)

- 6 straight daggers.
--Usually wields two, with four in reserve on it's upper arms.

-Mask of bone
--Murmur's only source of armor, it's mask it was created with. Not very sturdy, but can take a glancing hit or two.

-Bag of herbs
--Usually not for tea...

Likes: (minimum 5)
-Toys
-Clowns
-Loud noises
-Bright colors
-Dancing
-Painting

Dislikes: (^)
-Work
-Water
-Physical labor
-Boring music (To Murmur, anything without great crashing drums or cymbals)
-Dull landscapes and personalities


Other: (anything else i missed.)

 

[redroseknight]

Faceclaim:

Name: Filomena Aerona

Age: 22

Race: Elven

Class: Bard

Gender: Female

Personality: The world is her stage, and Filomena is never one to fail to impress. In these dark times, she knows that it is the role of artists to uplift the people so that they are not swallowed by their fear. She has a tendency of chasing after young women even when she is rebuffed. The more unlikely the chances, the more that she chases if only for the thrill of the hunt. Once she actually has a woman's attention, the bard finds herself not quite so silver-tongued and tends to get nervous and backpedals.

History:Filomena was born to a minor noble house. She was given everything in the world that she could have needed, especially tutors to make her the best lady of court. Which was not what happened at all. Oh, Mena learned to read and write, she learned reasoning...but she also learned to duel for a lady's honor, chivalry, and that one's place as a noble was to be supportive of their people. They didn't just rule over those that they were lords for; their task was to protect the common people, uplift them in an exchange for the trust that the commoners had shown. Then there was an accident with a young sorceress named Sayviel. This sorceress had been working with another apprentice when a spell went awry. Instead of shifting the item to be enchanted, young Sayviel was turned into a solid white pony!

Well, this wouldn't do. Sayviel was still of completely sound mind, her sarcastic personality remaining in tact, and her telepathy remained available to her. The court sorcerers tried in vain to help Sayviel regain her form, but nothing at all was happening. That just meant that they needed to travel elsewhere, find someone else who might be able to lift the spell. A pony could not make such a journey alone, so Filomena volunteered to accompany her. She had been of a mind to leave the castle anyways to go try to help bring some hope to the common people, and it was a friend's duty to help in times of distress. So off the pair went, leaving behind luxury for adventure. If only Filomena knew just how much adventure she would eventually find!

Abilities: Sensitive hearing, senses magic in use (she is not as intune with this ability so she often misses the cues

Skills: sleight of hand, courtly dueling, reading and writing in both elven and the common human tongue,

Magic: Charm animals with her music, can invigorate her companions with an uplifting song

Gear: A silver rapier, light traveling clothes of a vibrant green hue (has to match her eyes and make her red hair stand out of course), a lute, and a violin

Likes: music, dancing, traveling, women, wine

Dislikes: extravagant meals, silence, arrogant men, the cold, spiders, She absolutely hates spiders.

Other: Her dearest friend is still Sayviel Rethwellen.

 

[WinterGreen]

Name: Ermrig Quartzeye

Age: 27

Race: Dwarf

Class: Ranger

Gender: Male

Height: 5' 3''

Weight: 176

Eye Color: Coffee Brown







Languages Known:

1. Dwarven (speech, read/write)
2. Common Human (speech, read/write)
3. Elven (read/write, cannot speak it)

Personality: Ermrig is stubborn. When he finds something to do he's not going to stop until it's finished. When people challenge his beliefs they better have gold in their tongue or he's not going to listen! Though, he isn't callous. With friends and companions alike he will lend an ear to them, and if in danger an arrow to shoot alongside. At the best of times he can be jovial, helpful, and a mead fiend. But at the worst; cold and unforgiving.

History: Starting out in his life Ermrig could be compared to a black sheep among his family. While others were excelling using the axe he lagged behind. Swords were neither his fancy nor expertise. Hammers? Forget it. When dwarves who are not capable to fight with weapons like these at an early age they are left to study at the forge, to provide armaments for the warriors of Midra that are to fight in the inevitable war. Most of Ermrig's life was spent at the forge, creating weapons that he knew not how to wield. Though, after a while sweating in that hot place he grew a fascination towards ranged weaponry. Dwarves were not known for bow wielding or for having that great of an amazing eyesight. Ermrig however, had amazing eyesight. While he could not wield an axe effectively in his childhood he could read the lips of other children talking about him during training, making snide comments. During his time in the forge, even at the start, Ermrig could see imperfections in the metal where others could not. 'Truly,' Ermrig thought, 'could there not be a dwarf ranger among the ranks?'. The other dwarves at the forge laughed at him when he told them of his plan. 'Truly there could not!', they said. Stubborn as a mule Ermrig when to his anvil and started crafting arrows. He bought a bow to use them with but with slow firing speed and lack of precision he sought better. Many years working the forge to make weapons he also spent just as much time honing his skills and crafting a weapon he could call his own, a crossbow. This crossbow, however, was not typical. Because it allowed for the transfer of magic to the tip of an arrow through the user. Using a special iron-allow mix that allowed for magic to be stored inside Ermrig could call forth blazes to an enemy several hundred feet away! Truly this is an accomplishment the other dwarves would appreciate! Sadly this was not the case and since Ermrig was doing this in secret it was deemed a waste of countless time and material. Ermrig was deemed incompetent in the forge, a true failure in the eyes of others and his family. This blight to him was devastating and hurt him greatly, but his pride would not let it show. He gave the forge and his home one last look before walking out, never to look back.

Abilities:

1. Unclouded Vision
   • Extremely good vision.
2. Liver of Steel
   • Slower to get drunk compared to other races.

Skills:

1. Magic Infusion
   • The art of transferring magic from one'self to a medium. The use of such skill can be tiring. The more powerful he wants an arrow to be the more magic it consumes. Care must be taken into consideration when using this skill.
2. Archery
   • Proficient in short and long range bows and crossbows.
3. Forge-Mind
   • The knowledge on how to forge weapons and armor.

Magic:

1. Fire Arrows
   • When fired will release a small blaze of fire on its target.
2. Ice Arrows
   • When fired will encase a small section of its target in ice.
3. Lightning Arrows
   • When fired will release a large amount of electricity upon its target.

Gear:

• Leather Armor
• Specially designed crossbow (named HellFire)
• Large quiver of specially designed arrows
• Pouch containing:
  • 125 Gold
  • Rations
  • Couple ingots of his Iron-Alloy (just in case)
  • A large book with his designs and instructions
  • Several writing utensils
  • A deck of playing cards
• A hammer (His favorite)
• A small dagger

Likes:

1. Mead
2. Card games
3. Gold
4. Chocolate
5. Mulberries

Dislikes:

1. Gossip
2. Axes ('Best to be used on a tree', he says.)
3. Anything pink
4. Wine
5. Improperly made weaponry

 

[The True Plague]

Faceclaim
:

Stands at an imposing 5'6"
Weighs approximately 170lbs with armor, 150lbs without.


Name: Gabriele Heartsong

Age: 24

Race: Human

Class: Paladin

Gender: Male

Personality: Gabriele is a silent man, for the most part. He leaves his actions to convey what he means and how he feels. Usually, one gets from him a sort of spiteful feeling, be it the way he walks or just the way he acts. The only time this disappears, is when he's doing his job as a man of faith, and that's when a transformation comes about. Almost as if he were going from someone who hated their work, to an arrogantly proud man. This is when he'll allow his voice to be heard, and the sheer amount of stern, barely controlled anger in his voice shows that he is... Disappointed in the way things are. Where his fellows are drowning in words of hope and light, Gabriele acknowledges the ways the world has failed, and speaks of the future. Where things can get better, only through hard work. An... Odd adherent to Midra, but at the very least, still a follower.

History: Gabriele Heartsong was born to a minor noble house, 20 years ago. This, of course, wouldn't have been too bad, if not for the small fact that he was the third son of the family. He would expect to inherit not the family home. He couldn't reasonably expect anything too great. He spent the ages of five to fifteen learning how to be a knight, only to... Be unfit for squire duty due to a bit of... How do you say... Teenage rebellion leading him to mock openly the, he thought, fool whom called himself a knight.

With this career path, nay, calling denied to him, he had naught else but to go with the next best option. He went ahead, and followed well... His mother's wishes, instead of his father's. He went into the whole religion thing. Spreading the word, which wasn't necessary, but also keeping up the hope of the people. In theory, that's what he did. However, he couldn't exactly reconcile lying to these people. The world wasn't all sunshine and rainbows damn it! If they wanted that, they needed to work harder. They needed to do better in preparation for the monster hordes!

Sure, perhaps a bit controversial, but he spoke the truth. For five years now, he's reminded others that the light and hope they have needed to be hard fought for. If they don't give their all, if they don't seek to annihilate these monsters to the very last, then they shall have nothing. The people are this country's hope, their resolve our light.

Abilities:
Clear Minded: Be it through his ten years of training to be a squire, or his five years as some sort of Priest, in this time, Gabriele has learned how to clear his mind of all but the task at hand. Useful for devoting his all to one task... But does have a tendency to forget about the bigger picture at times.

Well Rounded: Living the life of a noble, than a 'warrior', and moving towards a scholar's life has given Gabriele a unique perspective in terms of decision making and understanding of others. Whether or not he decides to use this though, is an entirely different manner.

Skills:
Swordsmanship: Whilst you were out in the streets, or learning boring books, Gabriele has studied the blade. His will is resolute, and his blade is stronger than his resolve.

Silver Tongue: Any noble worth his salt, be they big or small, knows their way around a conversation. Proper manners, flattery and intimidation. Nothing is off the table if he simply must get something from you. Still needs to work on doing so when he needs to, not just when he wants to.

Magic:

Heal: A somewhat simple spell of more divine origins in his eyes. This spell allows him, at the cost of a bit of energy, to cure small wounds. Broken bone? So long as it isn't a rib, sure. Cuts that aren't too deep can be healed lickity split. He's also sure it can handle disease or poison, however this remains untested and unproven to him.

Bulwark: This spell finds use in battle, protecting the one it is casted upon with divine power. Although it weakens the force and damage of a blow, it doesn't make one invincible, sadly. It does, however, allow one to take a few more hits which can come in handy for a fight. After four hits, the effect wears off.

Fear: A rather odd spell for a holy man, but it checks out. Making use of his extremely 'intimidating' presence, lesser creatures may become fearful of him. This leads, usually, to one of two effects. The first is the creature will start to flee, or the creature will be outright paralyzed by fear. So long as this 5'6" man can, y'know, intimidate it.

Gear:

A simple steel sword
A shield with his family's crest
Half plate armor with helm
A bag that contains: A holy book, two candles, a whetstone, a flask, and a pouch he uses for food.

Likes:
The way of the sword
Nobility
Preaching his way
Those who listen
Being referred to as tall

Dislikes:
That foolish knight
Fake nobles who give the title a bad name
The other priests of Midra
Those who ignore him
Being called short! He's at least average, if not tall!

 

[Elenion Aura]

Faceclaim:

Name: Jan-Hendrik Rietveld

Age: 28

Race: Human

Class: Sorcerer

Gender: Male

Personality: Jan-Hendrik is like an eel. Slippery... No one ever knows quite where his allegiances lie. He likes it that way. He is highly educated, and he knows it. He makes it known. Jan is naturally curious regarding the nature of magic. He spent a great deal of time at the magisterium experimenting with new and often dangerous theories regarding the limits of possibility, and did not shy away from the darker arts. One such experiment cost him an eye. He has a taste for the finer things, which makes his current predicament all the more unbearable. He desperately desires to return to his former status. Above all else, he is driven by an intense desire for revenge on those responsible for his current, sorry state.

History: Jan-Hendrik remembers little of his life before magic. His parents’ faces are a distant, hazy memory. The truth was, he didn’t miss them. They were as strangers to him now. His real parents were his educators of the magisterium, and even then, he never felt anything close to a strong parental bond. He was an excellent study, destined for a life of luxury and grandeur as a court-appointed sorcerer once his education was complete.

However, the magisterium was no safe haven. Many of his peers lost their lives to the pursuit of power, or at the hands of a rival. Betrayal was commonplace, even among one’s supposed closest friends. Jan’s hands were not exactly clean of it, but neither was he the main perpetrator. Still, he’d considered it an accomplishment to have made it as far as he had. The life of his dreams was nearly within his grasp.

On the eve of the day of his appointment, when his new life was set to begin, adjudicators hauled him out of bed and set him promptly before the jury of mages. He had been found guilty of practicing dark magics - which was not wholly untrue, but then again, so were all of his contemporaries - and sentenced to life imprisonment in the Mage’s Tower, whilst being stripped of much of his magic power, left with a few novice spells. He had been outmaneuvered, and the sting of it was worse than the adjudicator’s shackles.

Naturally, even with his magic greatly hobbled, he escaped, and is now a desperate, dangerous fugitive, one with a bloody debt to pay.

Abilities:

- aptitude for magic: Jan prides himself on being a ‘natural’ practitioner of magic.

Skills:

- geopolitical savvy: Jan’s time spent at the magisterium was split roughly between his lessons in the arcane arts, and the inner and outer workings of world politics, the kingdoms, the kings, monarchs, etc. He’s retained this knowledge, sure that it will come in handy in some way.


Magic:

- Infernum: a fire spell, Jan summons plumes of flame from his hands and unleashes it in a wide area before him.
- Summon Imp: the simplest summon, Jan conjures a small, malicious spirit and binds it to his will. The imp is armed with sharp claws and teeth.
- Terraform: an earth spell, Jan raises great slabs of earth to crush his enemies beneath.
- Pulse: a simple spell, Jan buffets enemies in front of him with an invisible a wave of force.
- Terrify: a dark spell, Jan invades an enemy’s mind, flooding it with terror.

Gear:

- Court clothes, slightly rumpled from his time on the road
- A silver dagger

Likes:

- Playing devil’s advocate
- Coffee with milk and sugar
- Rare books
- Pontificating
- Scheming

Dislikes:

- Religious zealots
- Being outsmarted
- Children
- The outdoors
- Small animals

Other: N/A