Landsknights: Character Sheet

[Thin-Man]

This is the sign up thread for the medieval-fantasy roleplay Landsknights: A Romance in Four Kingdoms.


After reading the information thread found here:


http://www.rpnation.com/showthread.php/2990-Landsknights-A-Romance-in-Four-Kingdoms?p=92448#post92448


reply to this thread with a completed character sheet.


I will then inform you on whether or not your character has been accepted. If you are not accepted I will address the problems with your character and you are free to correct your sheet or choose not to join.


Name:


Age:


Sex:


Homeland: (the province where you were born and/or raised, for example Ostwark or Pfamwirden)


Skills: (What do you bring to the table, are you an accomplished cook, an excellent marksman or swordsman or have you adventured far and wide and can navigate the countryside as if you were born there)


Appearance:


History:

 

[Coro]

Name: Egon Hildebrand


Age: 19


Sex: Male


Homeland: Hibogen, of High Teutonia


Skills: A born swordsman, a knowledge of wilderness and survival, titanic strength, and a flair for the dramatic. Cursed with unluckiness and subsequently a resistance to magic.


Appearance: A tall and muscular young man, skin scarred and calloused, his brown hair shaggy and unkept. Wearing leather armour crafted from the skin of vicious beasts slain in the wilderness, Egon carries a near-unbreakable sword forged by his mentor's hand. The sword itself is rather plain, but sets Egon apart from even other swordsmen due to it's surprising size. It's by no means a gigantic sword of legend, but it's a fair size.


History: Egon hails from a small mining village called Angern, in the northern reaches of High Teutonia. Situated right next to the Teutonian Mountains, the village was an incredibly superstitious place, believing in the magic and occult that the church condemned. It was believed a sorcerer lived deep within the mountain range above the mines.


Egon was always bored, missing something from everyday life. He had been denoted as a 'unlucky child', being born on an unfavourable day. His mother also died in childbirth, his father dying in the mines soon after. Living with his uncle didn't seem right. Venturing into the mountains, Egon wanted to meet the supposed sorcerer. At the time, he was nine.


After confronting a beast he managed to kill with his uncle's pickaxe he 'borrowed', Egon found a small hut near a river running down the mountain. Inside he found all the typical items associated with a sorcerer, the cauldron and vials, and the bodies and parts of deceased animals. Being far too curious for his own good, he was discovered by the sorcerer upon his return.


With a magical might unrivalled, the sorcerer cast a curse upon the boy fro being so nosy. A fitting curse indeed, as Egon's right hand and arm were now a literal creator of bad luck. Anything he touched or even himself would have it's luck negated and befall bad consequences. An unforeseen result the sorcerer did not intend, was giving Egon's right arm the ability to negate magic. With this realization, Egon defeated the frail sorcerer in combat by using his right arm to block spells and then ramming his pickaxe down the old man's throat.


Coming back down to the village, Egon discovered it's remains. The church had finally come down on the olden town for not submitting to the rule of God. The obvious occultism was too much of a stain upon High Teutonia to exist in any form. A mercenary had broken from the main force, and stayed behind to make a home for himself as payment for his services. He took Egon in, finding him a resilient and interesting young boy with few hesitations.


This mercenary trained Egon in the way of the sword. This was a long process for the young Egon, right-handed and out of luck due to the sorcerer's curse. Due to the intensity of the training and the hardships Egon faced during it due to the curse, the training created an unholy swordsman in Egon. Resilient and swift, faster than smaller men, and stronger than larger men, Egon mastered the way of the blade.


With his skills so honed and feelings of unrest in the pit of his stomach, Egon set out to find adventure in these troubled times, eventually meeting the leader of the band of mercenaries he has now become a part of. That leader is the only person to have ever bested Egon in combat, and so Egon swore fealty to his new leader as his mercenary mentor would have done. Now travelling with them, Egon is finding new and interesting things by the day, and revels in the heart of battle.


The Unholy Swordsman begins to make a name for himself, an unlucky and unsettling meeting for even those seeking the services of him and his companions.

 

[Thin-Man]

There were one or two places where I felt that you might have pushed the magic angle a little too much, but after I had finished reading I ended up liking the overall fairy-tale kind of Hansel and Gretel kind of jive you went with and am going to point to this character as the example of "if you want magic involved in your character this use this as an example of what I'd find nifty".


So long story short, accepted.

 

[Estillum]

If I wanted to play say, a Scandinavian character, where would they be from?

 

[Heartsteal]

Name: Jules (Won't relinquish his last name)


Age: 19


Sex: Male


Homeland: Hibogen, more specifically the city of Lokin.


Skills: Light footed, and an excellent lockpick. Jules is a talented thief, but is squeamish about harming others, and very much a romantic.


Appearance:

Spoiler

Jules is rather short next to others his own age, and quite slender. With light brown hair that often gets in his face, pale skin, and light green eyes, Jules is often enough mistaken for a young woman, one of the things that angers him most.


History: Jules is a thief by night, and bookkeeper by day. Never does the lad harm anyone, and normally he takes so little that the families often don't realize they'd been robbed. More than once has Jules been burned by women; quite the romantic, he often gets himself into far deeper trouble than he should need to over the most trivial of things. Of Jules' past, their is little of note, a typical orphan, abandoned in a waste heap 'round back of a whorehouse. Never has the thief had illusions of grandeur, and he could easily guess at his origins, but this does not seem to drag him down at all.


Raised by the 'bloodied knuckles' guild 'bigs', Jules lived the life of a guild rat, picking up the skills he would later put to use on his own. It was with the sudden war brewing that the guild was disbanded, many members caught and conscripted into the military. It was later when a band of mercenaries passed through town that Jules was finally dragged from his comfortable life of pilfering and reading, and thrust into the role of the common soldier.


Lounging a particularly seedy tavern, several of the men grew rowdy, far too invested in their celebrations to pay much attention to a scrawny little pickpocket. Brushing quickly through one of the men's pockets, Jules brushed over his sleeve, quickly recovering the coinpurse, which burst open at the bottom, spilling his ill-gotten goods across the wooden floor in quite the clatter. Beaten half senseless, the boy was given two options, have all his fingers cut off, or join the motley crew, who apparently could find use of his particular talents.


The decision was an obvious one.

 

[Thin-Man]

@Estillium: Depending on what you meant by scandinavian. If you mean viking there really isn't anywhere in Teutonia that would have that kind of culture, if you look on the map across the Teutonic sea that's actually the border of a larger island mass that contains a "viking" culture, but I'm restricting homelands to within Teutonic borders. If you meant something akin to say late medieval Denmark the very far north of Walzing or the far western parts of Narlund. The setting was very much aimed at feeling more continentaly German than pan-Germanic


@ Heartsteal: Accepted.

 

[Jade]

Name: Gwen (last name unknown)


Age: 25


Sex: Female


Homeland: Walzing, City of Barlingen


Skills: Being a handy woman, can fix most anything if given a good amount of time. Can live independently off the wilderness and cook with what given to her for a small group of people or a large gathering.


Appearance: Black hair that shines like the feathers of crows, eyes green as the grass that grows in the prairie, these are two signature physical traits Gwen has. Being taller than average women she would tend to stick out even more. Having a slender body frame she is a natural beauty that rarely tries to enhance her beauty. Instead she is one that tries to hide that she has any of these traits as it has given her trouble with men following her. Putting her hair under a hat or bandanna it keeps away her locks of hair. Gwen also wears clothing that cover herself and might be a few sizes too large to conceal herself from the world.


History:


Wandering, that is pretty much was Gwen has done for her entire life. Her parents did that and she was along with them the entire time enjoying the travels. It was not until she was in her mid teens that her parents disappeared randomly and she was alone to survive in a world she barely knew. In the times of growing from a young lady into a woman she learned enough to be able to survive with out anyone's interference. Now being able to wander and continue to be independent and not rely on anyone was something she enjoyed but also was not the main reason she did it. It was rare for her stay in one place long enough to gather any friends, she did work however where ever she did go. She was a jack of many traits, leather-men, cook, novice healer, tailor, small game hunter, the list could go on. Gwen was one to have some knowledge in many areas rather than have her energy focused in one centered area. It was hard to keep track of what areas she has some knowledge in, it was ever growing and something Gwen enjoyed doing.


It was like Gwen to pick up random events that need her in an area she knows something about. It would keep her from placing her roots in one area and as well continue her path through life of the repetitive process of helping others. Gwen enjoyed helping others with out having any major benefit to herself, it was something her parents taught her and something she did enjoy. She is a free spirit, nothing so far has caught her attention to stop and lay her foundation down. Maybe it would happen, this is another reason to why she was always on the go.

 

[Paper Heart]

Name: Leofric Orrí


Age: 23


Sex: Male


Homeland: Walzing, from a village on the River Ing


Skills: Having grown up in a fishing village, of course Leofric is an accomplished fisherman. He is a strong swimmer and was taught sailing at a very young age. What he excels at most, however, is ranging. He is a natural forrester and can navigate by the stars - a skill borne of his nautical training. He has keen eyes to see well even in the hours of darkness, which gives him a great advantage at archery, though he has little experience with the bow. He prefers to fight with a long-hafted battleaxe, which he handles formidably.


Appearance: Leofric is a tall young man, about 6'2" in height, with shoulders of a wide breadth. He is not slender, but he is not too bulky. He is made of wiry muscle, his body all hard angles. He was born with fair skin that has since tanned from days spent in the sun and wind. His hair is a dark auburn and of medium length, growing a few inches past his ears, slightly curly. His friends used to call him the Red Crow because of his tendency to wear all black leather and dark armor, paired with his deep red hair. He has blue-grey eyes and a sculpted jawline. He wears his axe slung over his back so as to make room for the daggers sheathed at his belt.


History: He was born and raised until the age of twelve in the small fishing village, Altbrücken, located about thirty-six miles inland on the River Ing. His first years of life were quiet and he was taught by his parents and grandparents all the tricks of fishing and sailing. His father was an ex-military man and a shipwright, who taught Leofric to be his successor when the time came. Leofric himself had always assumed the duties his parents had given him with little questioning and no confrontation.


Then his tenth name day came and went and his father was drafted back into the military. This devastated the family financially, as he was the main source of their income. Another year and Leofric's father came home. In a casket. Leofric's eyes opened then, and he came to see that the world in which he had lived was perhaps not such a charitable place. His father had been his best friend, his hero. And then ... taken from him. His family noticed the change in him, how he had become bitter and cynical. He cursed the gods and threw theocracy into the waters of the Ing. A year later, his mother decided it was time for a change.


Not even a man grown was he, and so dark. His mother hoped the greener lands of the south would perhaps lift his spirits. Fairer climate, new folk, and the potential for a whole new life. A better life. She took him south, catching rides on wagons from town to town by kind folk.


And indeed, Leofric's heart was healing. He would laugh and jest and he easily made new friends along the road. And she noticed he had taken up the gods again. They had taken their time - a year and a half - to reach Pfam, where they found themselves enveloped in a local niche. With the military compensation money, they bought a small home on a busy street and they quickly became a part of the city.


For two years, they did well, staying poor but happy. The third year, droughts killed the crops that was their street's main trade and businesses went to ruin. Many of their neighbors left and soon all the traders and markets on their street had shut down. They were one of the few families who stayed behind, watching everything quietly collect dust.


Leofric was seventeen when his mother became ill, and eighteen at her death. He had long ago decided that when he was on his own there would be no more idle housekeeping, no settling down for families, none of that. While he had grown into a man, he had become restless and aggitated. He needed something more, and a road that would not lead to sorrow. He needed glory and recognition. He needed out.


When the country was divided and their king dead and gone, it was perhaps one of the best things to befall Leofric Orrí in all of his life. He knew nothing of mounted knights in polished armor, but he did know that life was too short, too cruel. And he knew his path.