DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
Below is a CS Skeleton for your characters.
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Fantasy Might, Magic, Prejudice.
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DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
Also introducing, the enemy cs skeleton! Use this for a powerful, recurring, or otherwise significant enemy to the main characters.
LMAOTseTung
New Member
"Wee Jas speaks, and I answer her sweet call. My body's her vassal, and I'm her voice. I give those her salvation, we are one. I give her my head, so she gives me her title. Death's Guardian." Chant of Wee Jas- Final Verse
Name: Tyr Scyn
Race: Human
Age: 29
Gender: male
Appearance: Tyr stands tall at 6'3", towering a head or even shoulder above most. He's slim, though heavily built from years of experience in the field, like his tanned skin and scars. His face is square and strong, rugged in regards to scars, though the wear is hardly revealed in his complexion. He has a large nose, and vibrant purple eyes that seem to swirl around the iris, a trait that becomes a dead give away for his family. He has many scars, most hidden beneath armor or cloth such as the diagonal scar that runs from right shoulder to the lower left ribs along with many of less notable ones. His face bares one down the left eye, near the left temple, on the chin, across the right jaw, and under his left ear. Some look born of swords, though many look born of claws and fangs.
Occupation: Arcane Warrior; Wizards that can channel mana through their body to reinforce it with varied abilities, creating powerful warriors.
Homeland: Langard
Spellcaster?: Yes
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Deity: Wee Jas
Bio: Tyr comes from a long line of noble retainers dating back to the birth of the first human empire. The Scyn family was fought over and traded among many hands for theirs skills and both sharp minds and blades. The family had many purposes in the castle and community due to their immense loyalty and direct link to Wee Jas, the goddess of magic and death, through an ancient relic known as the "All Seeing Eye." They served as Karuth to her temples, arbiters in tough trials, and grave keepers to give the spirits good passings to the next life. They also became blessed by Wee Jas with the art of the Arcane Warrior for their devotion, an art only practiced by a handful of clans and families, most elven. The Karuth devoted to the art.
When the Apocalypse came, it was the Karuth that solemn held the line for the capital to evacuate. The battle came to attrition, and the brave warriors defeated. The demons over ran the capital, however most where saved. The rest of Scyn family held in their temple, and after many months the lord demon was defeated and most demons retreated. The Family was reduced to ruins, with only a small amount left. they had to seal off many rooms, and it was discovered that the eye was taken by the demons. The amulet holds a fraction of Wee Jas' power, enough to create demigods. However, the amulet was bound to this plane, and the demons wouldn't be able to bring it back. It became the Karuth's new dedication to recover this lost artifact before it fell to the wrong hands, and new chaos to surge. It was soon revealed that the churches of Wee Jas had been dissolved, due to her relation to magic, and the Scyn's banished, due to being the head of the church. After decades of wandering, a hint was discovered. The amulet had been found, by three magi. The power consumed them, and they became demons. Powerful demons. The Scyn's only have found one of these beings, and lost to it.
Down to the last of their numbers, Tyr was born into the family, and the life. Though he was reluctant, it was discovered that he was a natural. He was born with a vast pool of mana, and a keen mind. Moving from place to place was common for him, family following mercenary bands for money and to hopefully encounter those dreadlords. The family's name was mostly forgetten to legends, so travel had become easy. At an early age, Tyr encountered monster of both men, was-men's, and beasts. He devoted more and more work into his studies from this, eventually surpassing his parents at the age of thirteen, having an immense affinity to electrical magics to boast with his pure mana manipulation granted by the arcane warrior; a feat only two in his family line had ever accomplished. Luckily enough too, for a few years later his father became ill and died, and his mother stayed by his side in a passing town. Tyr wouldn't give up his search, and at the age of fifteen became a full fledged mercenary. Being so young and inexperienced in battle, he gained more wounds than most. However his tenacity superseded this fact and he trudged forward. By twenty, he broke off to freelance as a solo or group mercenary, allowing him to fulfill more of his duties as a Karuth, silent as it may be by the immense superstition of magic.
Tyr walks the world of Terra, forever bound by duty to his goddess and realm. He fights for those that had condemned him, and will one day try to surpass those superstitions and stigmas to create a world like that of old, one that he and Wee Jas will be proud to protect and serve.
Weaponry: Wakizashi and stave, Though the wakizashi is made entirely in steel. The only breaks in the design being the waved grip in the handles, and the mark of Wee Jas on the scabbard.
Armor: Knights armor, resembling that of the old imperial guards of Langard from before, though twisted. The abdomen and right arm up to the pauldron has been removed. The armor is well maintained, though obviously has seen conflict and age. The pauldrons and leggings are scaled into four layers, with the breastplate by two. Over the heart, on both pauldrons, and the shin guards are adorned by the mark of Wee Jas, a skull with an uncanny look of peace in front of flames. Rather than a helmet, the neckguard has a deep hood attached, the rim black that fades to grey. This is the armor of the Karuth.
Mercenary Experience: 14 years, a seasoned veteran of many conflicts, and a notable name.
(Tell me if you find anything wrong with it or if there is something you wish to see changed)
Name: Tyr Scyn
Race: Human
Age: 29
Gender: male
Appearance: Tyr stands tall at 6'3", towering a head or even shoulder above most. He's slim, though heavily built from years of experience in the field, like his tanned skin and scars. His face is square and strong, rugged in regards to scars, though the wear is hardly revealed in his complexion. He has a large nose, and vibrant purple eyes that seem to swirl around the iris, a trait that becomes a dead give away for his family. He has many scars, most hidden beneath armor or cloth such as the diagonal scar that runs from right shoulder to the lower left ribs along with many of less notable ones. His face bares one down the left eye, near the left temple, on the chin, across the right jaw, and under his left ear. Some look born of swords, though many look born of claws and fangs.
Occupation: Arcane Warrior; Wizards that can channel mana through their body to reinforce it with varied abilities, creating powerful warriors.
Homeland: Langard
Spellcaster?: Yes
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Deity: Wee Jas
Bio: Tyr comes from a long line of noble retainers dating back to the birth of the first human empire. The Scyn family was fought over and traded among many hands for theirs skills and both sharp minds and blades. The family had many purposes in the castle and community due to their immense loyalty and direct link to Wee Jas, the goddess of magic and death, through an ancient relic known as the "All Seeing Eye." They served as Karuth to her temples, arbiters in tough trials, and grave keepers to give the spirits good passings to the next life. They also became blessed by Wee Jas with the art of the Arcane Warrior for their devotion, an art only practiced by a handful of clans and families, most elven. The Karuth devoted to the art.
When the Apocalypse came, it was the Karuth that solemn held the line for the capital to evacuate. The battle came to attrition, and the brave warriors defeated. The demons over ran the capital, however most where saved. The rest of Scyn family held in their temple, and after many months the lord demon was defeated and most demons retreated. The Family was reduced to ruins, with only a small amount left. they had to seal off many rooms, and it was discovered that the eye was taken by the demons. The amulet holds a fraction of Wee Jas' power, enough to create demigods. However, the amulet was bound to this plane, and the demons wouldn't be able to bring it back. It became the Karuth's new dedication to recover this lost artifact before it fell to the wrong hands, and new chaos to surge. It was soon revealed that the churches of Wee Jas had been dissolved, due to her relation to magic, and the Scyn's banished, due to being the head of the church. After decades of wandering, a hint was discovered. The amulet had been found, by three magi. The power consumed them, and they became demons. Powerful demons. The Scyn's only have found one of these beings, and lost to it.
Down to the last of their numbers, Tyr was born into the family, and the life. Though he was reluctant, it was discovered that he was a natural. He was born with a vast pool of mana, and a keen mind. Moving from place to place was common for him, family following mercenary bands for money and to hopefully encounter those dreadlords. The family's name was mostly forgetten to legends, so travel had become easy. At an early age, Tyr encountered monster of both men, was-men's, and beasts. He devoted more and more work into his studies from this, eventually surpassing his parents at the age of thirteen, having an immense affinity to electrical magics to boast with his pure mana manipulation granted by the arcane warrior; a feat only two in his family line had ever accomplished. Luckily enough too, for a few years later his father became ill and died, and his mother stayed by his side in a passing town. Tyr wouldn't give up his search, and at the age of fifteen became a full fledged mercenary. Being so young and inexperienced in battle, he gained more wounds than most. However his tenacity superseded this fact and he trudged forward. By twenty, he broke off to freelance as a solo or group mercenary, allowing him to fulfill more of his duties as a Karuth, silent as it may be by the immense superstition of magic.
Tyr walks the world of Terra, forever bound by duty to his goddess and realm. He fights for those that had condemned him, and will one day try to surpass those superstitions and stigmas to create a world like that of old, one that he and Wee Jas will be proud to protect and serve.
Weaponry: Wakizashi and stave, Though the wakizashi is made entirely in steel. The only breaks in the design being the waved grip in the handles, and the mark of Wee Jas on the scabbard.
Armor: Knights armor, resembling that of the old imperial guards of Langard from before, though twisted. The abdomen and right arm up to the pauldron has been removed. The armor is well maintained, though obviously has seen conflict and age. The pauldrons and leggings are scaled into four layers, with the breastplate by two. Over the heart, on both pauldrons, and the shin guards are adorned by the mark of Wee Jas, a skull with an uncanny look of peace in front of flames. Rather than a helmet, the neckguard has a deep hood attached, the rim black that fades to grey. This is the armor of the Karuth.
Mercenary Experience: 14 years, a seasoned veteran of many conflicts, and a notable name.
(Tell me if you find anything wrong with it or if there is something you wish to see changed)
Last edited by a moderator:
LMAOTseTung
New Member
"Little lamb, have you come to be slaughtered?"
Name: Demonic Lord Magi
Race: Tainted Human
Challenge Rating: 23
Reputation: Mostly unknown except for scholars of monsters and the hunters of monsters, with no known survivors that have encountered it. However what is known is that wherever they go, high concentrations of monsters flock. Believed to only be a legend told by monster hunters and mercenaries around campfires half drunk.
Appearance: Small and shriveled bodies of what they once were, they beings are no longer anything human. Though they are humanoid, their faces are void of everything, with only sunken and wrinkled indentions in the skin where things used to reside. Their bodies are horribly disproportioned, with an arm being almost comedic in length, and the other monstrous in size. All three beings possess different abnormalities in this (One could have it's head permanently turned sideways while another has a bloated chest.) They all bear some shade of red skin, and demonic qualities such as horns, claws, tails, etc. Every muscle in their body has atrophied, and are sustained solely through, funny enough, mana and souls. Their bodies are mostly naked, however they have no reproductive organs or digestive exits.
Weapons: No external weapons, or more so they don't need them. Due to the high concentration of pure magic carved into their bodies, they can cast nearly any level of spell, save for the most advanced, without staves. They have an affinity for all types of magic, except for holy and the most specialized of magics.
Armor: Twisted robes of wizards, stained in blood and barely held together. Their armor rather lies in magic, casting up full plate of stone or a barrier that wards, multiples of them.
Abilities: Besides being able to cast magics of all kinds, they are able to call upon and speak to the dead. They understand and have created advanced rites with this to consume souls into an object, to use as a backup vassal of immense mana and power. They speak every language and generally float using mana where they go, dragging along their feeble bodies ruined by unimaginable magic. They can fly, but it is more like jumping and gliding on mana and doesn't last long. They are very keen and sharp of mind, having been previous high wizards.
Other Notes: There is only three of them
(Same as the other, tell me if you have problems with it.)
Name: Demonic Lord Magi
Race: Tainted Human
Challenge Rating: 23
Reputation: Mostly unknown except for scholars of monsters and the hunters of monsters, with no known survivors that have encountered it. However what is known is that wherever they go, high concentrations of monsters flock. Believed to only be a legend told by monster hunters and mercenaries around campfires half drunk.
Appearance: Small and shriveled bodies of what they once were, they beings are no longer anything human. Though they are humanoid, their faces are void of everything, with only sunken and wrinkled indentions in the skin where things used to reside. Their bodies are horribly disproportioned, with an arm being almost comedic in length, and the other monstrous in size. All three beings possess different abnormalities in this (One could have it's head permanently turned sideways while another has a bloated chest.) They all bear some shade of red skin, and demonic qualities such as horns, claws, tails, etc. Every muscle in their body has atrophied, and are sustained solely through, funny enough, mana and souls. Their bodies are mostly naked, however they have no reproductive organs or digestive exits.
Weapons: No external weapons, or more so they don't need them. Due to the high concentration of pure magic carved into their bodies, they can cast nearly any level of spell, save for the most advanced, without staves. They have an affinity for all types of magic, except for holy and the most specialized of magics.
Armor: Twisted robes of wizards, stained in blood and barely held together. Their armor rather lies in magic, casting up full plate of stone or a barrier that wards, multiples of them.
Abilities: Besides being able to cast magics of all kinds, they are able to call upon and speak to the dead. They understand and have created advanced rites with this to consume souls into an object, to use as a backup vassal of immense mana and power. They speak every language and generally float using mana where they go, dragging along their feeble bodies ruined by unimaginable magic. They can fly, but it is more like jumping and gliding on mana and doesn't last long. They are very keen and sharp of mind, having been previous high wizards.
Other Notes: There is only three of them
(Same as the other, tell me if you have problems with it.)
DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
If a like is left on your sheets, it means I approve of them.
As for enemy sheets, those do not need to appear now. All Enemy sheets will be put on a metaphorical shelf until further notice.
As for enemy sheets, those do not need to appear now. All Enemy sheets will be put on a metaphorical shelf until further notice.
Remmock
Junior Member
"Scurry before the Fang of Torm!"
Name: Myrrl Boone
Race: Gnoll
Age: 6 Years
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing a full eight feet and three inches tall, Myrrl is a large and muscular specimen for his kind. His fur, spotted with black across tan, is well kept and washed. His mane too, black with streaks of red through it, is very well taken care of, looking groomed and combed with a healthy gloss to it, rather than the firm, coarse manes of Gnolls who live tribally. Even his teeth are well kept, though he still bears the yellowed eyes of his kind, narrowed and constantly searching.
Occupation: Fighter (Shield Specialization)
Homeland: Langard
Spellcaster?: No.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Deity: Torm
Bio: Myrrl was a Gnoll pup who was destined to do great things, for his size was noteworthy in comparison to those of his litter, and his strength was impressive even among his kind. The adult Gnolls encouraged and praised him the first time he played too roughly with a litter mate and killed him. "Chieftain" was a word whispered among their tribe, and they stopped feeding him. He did as they expected, attacking the others of his age for their food. Destinies however, are not set in stone.
A group of holy Knights, seeking to discover the source of attacks against several small villages, tracked a warband of Gnolls back to Myrrl's tribe and began to exact retribution. Their Captain, an older man with gray in his hair and wrinkles upon his visage, oversaw the combat. However, as the pups began to be butchered by two Knights who were, as they saw matters, preventing a problem before it became one, the Captain called out to them to stop. He had had a vision of sorts, a revelation he saw as divine. He called for the pups to be restrained and brought back to their hall.
It was there where he began the task of retraining the pups, learning from their behavior and reining them in when they got too wild. He taught them, reasoned with them, and though his god did not look favorably upon them so much as to offer them divine favor, they learned to harness their lust for fury and blood. The pack took the Captain's last name for their own. Boone. They learned the importance of rational thought, of how grooming and care prevented rot of tooth and skin, and how combat was to defend others. It was with this purpose in mind that he gathered his winning from other adventures which he had never found a use for and fitted them all with arms and armor befitting their archetypes, with Myrrl receiving full plate and two shields as a reminder that his fury was to be wielded in defense of others, and that he had a duty to Captain Boone and to his tribe brothers and sisters to defend in the name of Torm, who he was taught to see as a fatherly figure as well.
Having done what he could for the Gnolls, he sent them out to do works in Torm's name.
Weaponry: See "Armor" Below
Armor: Myrrl bears full plate armor designed for his species with great care. Two large tower shields with front-mounted spikes hang on either side of his travel pack. The armor and shields seem together to be part of a set, the steel well made and clearly cared for from the state of it, for every scuff is buffed out carefully. The armor and shields are of standard steel coloration, yet bear extensive engravings all over which include Paladin scripture of Torm, as well as the symbol of Torm on both shields and upon the chest. Some of the engravings look a little damaged from use. He bears no actual weaponry however.
Mercenary Experience: 2 Years
Name: Myrrl Boone
Race: Gnoll
Age: 6 Years
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing a full eight feet and three inches tall, Myrrl is a large and muscular specimen for his kind. His fur, spotted with black across tan, is well kept and washed. His mane too, black with streaks of red through it, is very well taken care of, looking groomed and combed with a healthy gloss to it, rather than the firm, coarse manes of Gnolls who live tribally. Even his teeth are well kept, though he still bears the yellowed eyes of his kind, narrowed and constantly searching.
Occupation: Fighter (Shield Specialization)
Homeland: Langard
Spellcaster?: No.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Deity: Torm
Bio: Myrrl was a Gnoll pup who was destined to do great things, for his size was noteworthy in comparison to those of his litter, and his strength was impressive even among his kind. The adult Gnolls encouraged and praised him the first time he played too roughly with a litter mate and killed him. "Chieftain" was a word whispered among their tribe, and they stopped feeding him. He did as they expected, attacking the others of his age for their food. Destinies however, are not set in stone.
A group of holy Knights, seeking to discover the source of attacks against several small villages, tracked a warband of Gnolls back to Myrrl's tribe and began to exact retribution. Their Captain, an older man with gray in his hair and wrinkles upon his visage, oversaw the combat. However, as the pups began to be butchered by two Knights who were, as they saw matters, preventing a problem before it became one, the Captain called out to them to stop. He had had a vision of sorts, a revelation he saw as divine. He called for the pups to be restrained and brought back to their hall.
It was there where he began the task of retraining the pups, learning from their behavior and reining them in when they got too wild. He taught them, reasoned with them, and though his god did not look favorably upon them so much as to offer them divine favor, they learned to harness their lust for fury and blood. The pack took the Captain's last name for their own. Boone. They learned the importance of rational thought, of how grooming and care prevented rot of tooth and skin, and how combat was to defend others. It was with this purpose in mind that he gathered his winning from other adventures which he had never found a use for and fitted them all with arms and armor befitting their archetypes, with Myrrl receiving full plate and two shields as a reminder that his fury was to be wielded in defense of others, and that he had a duty to Captain Boone and to his tribe brothers and sisters to defend in the name of Torm, who he was taught to see as a fatherly figure as well.
Having done what he could for the Gnolls, he sent them out to do works in Torm's name.
Weaponry: See "Armor" Below
Armor: Myrrl bears full plate armor designed for his species with great care. Two large tower shields with front-mounted spikes hang on either side of his travel pack. The armor and shields seem together to be part of a set, the steel well made and clearly cared for from the state of it, for every scuff is buffed out carefully. The armor and shields are of standard steel coloration, yet bear extensive engravings all over which include Paladin scripture of Torm, as well as the symbol of Torm on both shields and upon the chest. Some of the engravings look a little damaged from use. He bears no actual weaponry however.
Mercenary Experience: 2 Years
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DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
"Perhaps we will never know the true purpose of our Creation. If so, then it is upon myself and my Forge-brothers to create our own purpose; our own future"
Name: Unit-701. Alternatively, Fist.
Race: Warforged
Age: 7 months old.
Gender: No true gender, but voice resembles a Male.
Appearance: A creation of steel and wood, Fist stands at 6'8", and weighs roughly 300 pounds. With no carbon based wrapping, his grey metallic body is displayed for all to see, wrapped only in a loose robe. The head is the most prominent feature of a Warforged. Fist's head resembles a bald Human head, with his Creation Number engraved upon the cranium. He has no nose to speak of, and glowing orange eyes, as well as jaws that open like pincers. His hands are thicker than most other Warforged...
Occupation: Monk.
Homeland: Langard
Spellcaster?: "From a certain point of view, yes. The spiritual art of Ki, if harnessed properly, can replicate certain spells, though only a few monks can take their training so far."
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity: Zenith, God of Ascension and Progress
Bio: Forged in the Era of rebuilding, Unit-701's intended purpose was to assist in building assembly. His strength was something to commend, able to demolish or erect buildings by himself. His fellow Forge-brothers acknowledged his thicker than normal fists, some calling 701 an engine of destruction. These remarks generated sensations of insecurity within the golem. As a machine with sentience, it held things like "emotion" and "free thought".
It was this free thought that caused 701 to abandon his duties in reconstruction a mere 2 months after his creation. His tireless legs lead him to a Monastery, where the mostly Human Monks accepted him, and carried him through the initiation rites to earn the privelage of studying amongst them.
For three months, 701 studied, trained, and meditated. His Core underwent a change of protocol, rare amongst all existing Warforged. The Core's directives changed from "Reconstruct Langard" to "Uncover the secrets of life". For this task, 701 turned to Zenith, God of Ascension and Progression, for answers; reading through his scripture in order to find a way to uncover the truth. Once he had finished, the Warforged decided he knew what he had to do.
By encouragement of his fellow Monks, 701 embraced his thick hands, donning the moniker of Fist, and vowing to wave his hand in the name of Good. To this end, the Warforged monk now found himself in unexplored philosophy: the life of a Mercenary.
Weaponry: Fist prefers to use his own fists in combat. Forged to be a Monk, he was trained in Form X-03, known in Common as "Breaker Fists". This fighting style emphasizes breaking weapons and shields with powerful punches, leaving opponents disarmed before taking a steel fist to the jaw. If an enemy proves to be too strong for Form X-03 to defeat, Fist can rely on a Shortsword he wears on his hip at all times.
Armor: As a Warforged, Fist's body is practically made of armor, as his outward shell is made of steel plates. Beneath the steel is wooden fibers and pulp, which aids Fist in moving and striking quickly, something most golems fail to accomplish.
Mercenary Experience: None to speak of. Is new in the field.
Name: Unit-701. Alternatively, Fist.
Race: Warforged
Age: 7 months old.
Gender: No true gender, but voice resembles a Male.
Appearance: A creation of steel and wood, Fist stands at 6'8", and weighs roughly 300 pounds. With no carbon based wrapping, his grey metallic body is displayed for all to see, wrapped only in a loose robe. The head is the most prominent feature of a Warforged. Fist's head resembles a bald Human head, with his Creation Number engraved upon the cranium. He has no nose to speak of, and glowing orange eyes, as well as jaws that open like pincers. His hands are thicker than most other Warforged...
Occupation: Monk.
Homeland: Langard
Spellcaster?: "From a certain point of view, yes. The spiritual art of Ki, if harnessed properly, can replicate certain spells, though only a few monks can take their training so far."
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity: Zenith, God of Ascension and Progress
Bio: Forged in the Era of rebuilding, Unit-701's intended purpose was to assist in building assembly. His strength was something to commend, able to demolish or erect buildings by himself. His fellow Forge-brothers acknowledged his thicker than normal fists, some calling 701 an engine of destruction. These remarks generated sensations of insecurity within the golem. As a machine with sentience, it held things like "emotion" and "free thought".
It was this free thought that caused 701 to abandon his duties in reconstruction a mere 2 months after his creation. His tireless legs lead him to a Monastery, where the mostly Human Monks accepted him, and carried him through the initiation rites to earn the privelage of studying amongst them.
For three months, 701 studied, trained, and meditated. His Core underwent a change of protocol, rare amongst all existing Warforged. The Core's directives changed from "Reconstruct Langard" to "Uncover the secrets of life". For this task, 701 turned to Zenith, God of Ascension and Progression, for answers; reading through his scripture in order to find a way to uncover the truth. Once he had finished, the Warforged decided he knew what he had to do.
By encouragement of his fellow Monks, 701 embraced his thick hands, donning the moniker of Fist, and vowing to wave his hand in the name of Good. To this end, the Warforged monk now found himself in unexplored philosophy: the life of a Mercenary.
Weaponry: Fist prefers to use his own fists in combat. Forged to be a Monk, he was trained in Form X-03, known in Common as "Breaker Fists". This fighting style emphasizes breaking weapons and shields with powerful punches, leaving opponents disarmed before taking a steel fist to the jaw. If an enemy proves to be too strong for Form X-03 to defeat, Fist can rely on a Shortsword he wears on his hip at all times.
Armor: As a Warforged, Fist's body is practically made of armor, as his outward shell is made of steel plates. Beneath the steel is wooden fibers and pulp, which aids Fist in moving and striking quickly, something most golems fail to accomplish.
Mercenary Experience: None to speak of. Is new in the field.
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hexaphenylbenzene
There's a time and a place for mucking around.
"And my, what a lady we have here, lads! Care for a dance, fairest maiden mine?"
Name:Ayleth Swetelove; Dame Ayleth the Valiant
Race: Human
Deviance?: No
Gender: Female
Age: 32
Appearance: Round, smiling face with a wide mouth and large teeth; large, calloused hands; battle-tanned skin; many scars on her hands, arms, face, etc; sun-bleached hair cut short for convenience in battle; standing around 6'4 and weighing at about 200 pounds, she is toned and muscular from her many years in battle.
Occupation: Formerly a knight, now a mercenary.
Homeland: Ryuga
Spellcaster?: No
Alignment: Lawful good
Deity: Bahamut, though very rarely. She mostly asks for strength from her father or from Sir Bricot (see bio).
Bio: Born into a noble family, she was squired at the age of 14 to a wise old knight named Sir Bricot the Gallant. He became a secondary father or uncle figure in her life, and she admired him greatly. She was knighted at the ripe age of 27, just barely a year before her mentor died in battle. She fights in his, the queen, and her father’s name.
Weaponry: Longsword named Orenmir and shield. She is a simple woman.
Armor: The same sturdy steel armor she wore when her kingdom and home fell down around her. Simple yet strong, though it bears no magic spell or enchantment. Just a good body inside it and a strong shield in front of it.
Mercenary Experience: Not long, a bit over a year. She spent some time traveling the lands in search of another established kingdom for whom she could possibly hope to fight for, but found none. She gave in, and though it pains her to her core to do so, she went to Languard and got to work.
Name:Ayleth Swetelove; Dame Ayleth the Valiant
Race: Human
Deviance?: No
Gender: Female
Age: 32
Appearance: Round, smiling face with a wide mouth and large teeth; large, calloused hands; battle-tanned skin; many scars on her hands, arms, face, etc; sun-bleached hair cut short for convenience in battle; standing around 6'4 and weighing at about 200 pounds, she is toned and muscular from her many years in battle.
Occupation: Formerly a knight, now a mercenary.
Homeland: Ryuga
Spellcaster?: No
Alignment: Lawful good
Deity: Bahamut, though very rarely. She mostly asks for strength from her father or from Sir Bricot (see bio).
Bio: Born into a noble family, she was squired at the age of 14 to a wise old knight named Sir Bricot the Gallant. He became a secondary father or uncle figure in her life, and she admired him greatly. She was knighted at the ripe age of 27, just barely a year before her mentor died in battle. She fights in his, the queen, and her father’s name.
Weaponry: Longsword named Orenmir and shield. She is a simple woman.
Armor: The same sturdy steel armor she wore when her kingdom and home fell down around her. Simple yet strong, though it bears no magic spell or enchantment. Just a good body inside it and a strong shield in front of it.
Mercenary Experience: Not long, a bit over a year. She spent some time traveling the lands in search of another established kingdom for whom she could possibly hope to fight for, but found none. She gave in, and though it pains her to her core to do so, she went to Languard and got to work.
DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
@LMAOTseTung @hexaphenylbenzene @Remmock
I have posted the opening to the roleplay. You may proceed if you wish, but do expect a slower pace until the other folks can get their characters clocked in.
I have posted the opening to the roleplay. You may proceed if you wish, but do expect a slower pace until the other folks can get their characters clocked in.
Keltoi
Senior Member
"Don't annoy me, or you WILL regret it dearly..."
Name: Draco
Race: Human/ Vampire.
Age: 96
Gender: Male
Personality: Smooth-talking and charismatic, he can talk his way out of little things. Kind, but savage to his enemies, the vampire side of him relishes killing.
Appearance:<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpg.b80176eac7485b7e233e4b8c0a011ec8.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137897" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpg.b80176eac7485b7e233e4b8c0a011ec8.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
(Sorry please ignore city)
Occupation: Swordsman. Uses blade skilfully, but wears no armour.
Homeland: Langard
Spell caster: No
Alignment: Good, always helps the innocent when they are in peril. Despises vile and wicked beings.
Deity: Has none.
Bio: Was an apprentice swordsman, but was attacked by a vampire along with his fiancé. His fiancé was killed, but the bloodsucker let Draco live to be a vampire. Swearing to never turn into an evil murderer, Draco chose to only consume the blood of animals and sometimes the wicked. All his life, he has been searching for the vampire that had turned him, vowing to kill the monster. While doing so, he deals out justice to the evil along the way, trying to make the world a better place.
Weaponry: A sword fit for a vampire, Draco found it in his travels. Being such a light and sharp blade, he couldn't leave it to rust. He named it Nightbiter.
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.6d15adbd993d5aa6f3041457ec80a437.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137899" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.6d15adbd993d5aa6f3041457ec80a437.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Armour: No armour, prefers to stay light and fast.
Mercenary experience: Deals out justice to vile criminals, but refuses to take any money. He does this every once in a while, but it isn't his purpose.
Name: Draco
Race: Human/ Vampire.
Age: 96
Gender: Male
Personality: Smooth-talking and charismatic, he can talk his way out of little things. Kind, but savage to his enemies, the vampire side of him relishes killing.
Appearance:<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpg.b80176eac7485b7e233e4b8c0a011ec8.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137897" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpg.b80176eac7485b7e233e4b8c0a011ec8.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
(Sorry please ignore city)
Occupation: Swordsman. Uses blade skilfully, but wears no armour.
Homeland: Langard
Spell caster: No
Alignment: Good, always helps the innocent when they are in peril. Despises vile and wicked beings.
Deity: Has none.
Bio: Was an apprentice swordsman, but was attacked by a vampire along with his fiancé. His fiancé was killed, but the bloodsucker let Draco live to be a vampire. Swearing to never turn into an evil murderer, Draco chose to only consume the blood of animals and sometimes the wicked. All his life, he has been searching for the vampire that had turned him, vowing to kill the monster. While doing so, he deals out justice to the evil along the way, trying to make the world a better place.
Weaponry: A sword fit for a vampire, Draco found it in his travels. Being such a light and sharp blade, he couldn't leave it to rust. He named it Nightbiter.
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.6d15adbd993d5aa6f3041457ec80a437.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137899" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.6d15adbd993d5aa6f3041457ec80a437.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Armour: No armour, prefers to stay light and fast.
Mercenary experience: Deals out justice to vile criminals, but refuses to take any money. He does this every once in a while, but it isn't his purpose.
Attachments
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Keltoi
Senior Member
(Sorry is there something I need to change, or is my character alright?)
DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
(nah I was just taking my time to read over it. But since your character is a vampire I feel our vampire lore will conflict. So let me explain how my vampire has always worked.)
-Vampires have always been Lawful Evil Undead to me. Since your character is an adventurer and adventurers are meant to be an abnormality to some extent I can tolerate him being Good, but I will still treat him like an Undead, as will npc's.
-Vampires burst into flames when exposed to sunlight. Since the world is covered in fog and clouds, this is toned down to "Vampires do not benefit from their vampiric abilities in daylight". In lesser vampires this can result in sickness, or replicated feelings of such.
-Most vampires are killed via the ol' ritual of staking them in the heart followed by decapitation. If not killed in this manner they will resurrect. Lesser vampires do not benefit from this resurrection.
By "lesser vampire" I mean someone the main Vampire has infected with Vampirism or killed and made into their pawn. By consuming the master vampire's blood, Lesser Vampires can ascend into Vampires.
Are these conditions tolerable?
-Vampires have always been Lawful Evil Undead to me. Since your character is an adventurer and adventurers are meant to be an abnormality to some extent I can tolerate him being Good, but I will still treat him like an Undead, as will npc's.
-Vampires burst into flames when exposed to sunlight. Since the world is covered in fog and clouds, this is toned down to "Vampires do not benefit from their vampiric abilities in daylight". In lesser vampires this can result in sickness, or replicated feelings of such.
-Most vampires are killed via the ol' ritual of staking them in the heart followed by decapitation. If not killed in this manner they will resurrect. Lesser vampires do not benefit from this resurrection.
By "lesser vampire" I mean someone the main Vampire has infected with Vampirism or killed and made into their pawn. By consuming the master vampire's blood, Lesser Vampires can ascend into Vampires.
Are these conditions tolerable?
Keltoi
Senior Member
Yup, more than tolerable.
LMAOTseTung
New Member
Quick question, how are we going to go about input turns, is it ordered through all 6 of us and then going again, or do you have a specific way you want to handle it?
Enuky
Status Troll
Name: Osamu Yuu
Race: Elf
Age: 288 years
Gender: M
Appearance: Osamu is an elven warrior. He has olive toned skin, brown eyes, and long, luxuriant black hair he keeps tied back. He seems to take pride in his appearance, and dresses in expensive silk robes of elaborate, oriental design.
Occupation: Samurai (former), mercenary (present)
Homeland: Ryuga, Langard (present)
Spellcaster: Yes
Alignment: Neutral
Deity: Thormir
Bio: Osamu was raised in a prosperous elven tribe of Ryuga, and began studying the martial arts of his people at a young age. He is dexterous and skilled with the daitana sword and illusion magic. Over time he came to great power in his tribe, and served as a lord to the tribe emperor. The fame and fortune eventually went to his head. After deciding he was more fit to rule his tribe than the emperor, he conspired to overthrow him. His plans were unsuccessful, however; and Osamu was forced to flee his homeland to escape execution. Now the elf has taken up the life of a mercenary, and is drawn only to the most rewarding missions. He strives to acquire great wealth, and lives as lavishly as if he were an emperor. Osamu has a superior attitude, and seems to look down upon most others.
Weaponry: Daitana (katana), enchanted piccolo
Mercenary Experience: Medium to high level experience.
Race: Elf
Age: 288 years
Gender: M
Appearance: Osamu is an elven warrior. He has olive toned skin, brown eyes, and long, luxuriant black hair he keeps tied back. He seems to take pride in his appearance, and dresses in expensive silk robes of elaborate, oriental design.
Occupation: Samurai (former), mercenary (present)
Homeland: Ryuga, Langard (present)
Spellcaster: Yes
Alignment: Neutral
Deity: Thormir
Bio: Osamu was raised in a prosperous elven tribe of Ryuga, and began studying the martial arts of his people at a young age. He is dexterous and skilled with the daitana sword and illusion magic. Over time he came to great power in his tribe, and served as a lord to the tribe emperor. The fame and fortune eventually went to his head. After deciding he was more fit to rule his tribe than the emperor, he conspired to overthrow him. His plans were unsuccessful, however; and Osamu was forced to flee his homeland to escape execution. Now the elf has taken up the life of a mercenary, and is drawn only to the most rewarding missions. He strives to acquire great wealth, and lives as lavishly as if he were an emperor. Osamu has a superior attitude, and seems to look down upon most others.
Weaponry: Daitana (katana), enchanted piccolo
Mercenary Experience: Medium to high level experience.
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DemetrioMachete
Messiah of the New Night
Okay so.LMAOTseTung said:
If youre in a conversation, battle etc with something that does not involve me, than you post on your own accord just be sure to let the person youre interacting with have their turn.
If everyone is together, the "turn order" is based off of who is interacted with the most. If there is a situation or bit of dialogue you feel like you can reply to, than go for it.
Combat.. Well we will cross that bridge when we come to it ^^;
relifastu
Hit Me!
"Just because I'm a woman, doesn't mean I can't pick up a sword and put that ego back where it belongs."
Name: Relifastu
Race: Elf
Age: 250 (just past age of maturity)
Gender: Female
Appearance: Relifastu is a shorter elf that has a slight pale tone to her skin. Her eyes are that of deep blue, and her hair has a rich, dark chestnut brown tint to it, with a very slight curl to the end. While most of the time her hair is pulled back in a tight French braid while traveling, she prefers to have her hair down, which reaches the middle of her back. She has several tattoos, such as a small tendril of water that wraps from her wrist to her upper left arm. On her right shoulder, she has a small Elven symbol that resembles her tribe's banner.
Occupation: none
Homeland: currently in Langard, Ryuga is where she was born
Spellcaster?: has some connection with water, but has no idea of the potential and what is entailed with it.
Alignment: Good
Deity: none
Bio: Relifastu grew up in a small village on the edge of Ryuga with her father and two brothers. With no mother figure in her life (deceased), Relifastu grew up learning how to fight and survive in the wilderness at a young age, rather than learning how to cook and make medicine. While her brothers where working at the forge, she would spend weeks in the forests hunting and gathering for food for her family. For her rite of passage into adulthood, the tribe she lived in took her out into the forest with nothing but the clothes on her back and told her to find home by herself. This was when she first discovered her connection with water. As she was traveling in the night, she fell and cut her palm near a small stream. A small glow from the water danced on her hand and stopped the bleeding. She told no one of this of course, for she had no idea what is was. When she finally returned to her tribe, her father had given her the sword she still carries with her today. There was nothing special about the sword, only that it was from her father and it was incredibly light weighted with the signature symbol of her tribe emgraved on the hilt.
A few weeks later when she returned from a hunting trip, she found her tribe completely destroyed. There were no survivors. With only the bare necessities with her, she decided to leave everything behind and go to Langard, to find a new life, and hopefully, those who had destroyed her home.
Weaponry: about 5 random daggers/ throwing knife from boot knives to one on her hip. As for swords, a simple Elven sword her father made her (nothing special, just more sentimental). Also, a small bow for hunting.
Armor: very light, basic armor. Prefers to just have a normal tunic, pants, and boot combo if just traveling. Big battle? Armor is always a good thing.
Mercenary Experience: none, but willing to learn from an experienced one. (Has very well trained fighting technique though)
Name: Relifastu
Race: Elf
Age: 250 (just past age of maturity)
Gender: Female
Appearance: Relifastu is a shorter elf that has a slight pale tone to her skin. Her eyes are that of deep blue, and her hair has a rich, dark chestnut brown tint to it, with a very slight curl to the end. While most of the time her hair is pulled back in a tight French braid while traveling, she prefers to have her hair down, which reaches the middle of her back. She has several tattoos, such as a small tendril of water that wraps from her wrist to her upper left arm. On her right shoulder, she has a small Elven symbol that resembles her tribe's banner.
Occupation: none
Homeland: currently in Langard, Ryuga is where she was born
Spellcaster?: has some connection with water, but has no idea of the potential and what is entailed with it.
Alignment: Good
Deity: none
Bio: Relifastu grew up in a small village on the edge of Ryuga with her father and two brothers. With no mother figure in her life (deceased), Relifastu grew up learning how to fight and survive in the wilderness at a young age, rather than learning how to cook and make medicine. While her brothers where working at the forge, she would spend weeks in the forests hunting and gathering for food for her family. For her rite of passage into adulthood, the tribe she lived in took her out into the forest with nothing but the clothes on her back and told her to find home by herself. This was when she first discovered her connection with water. As she was traveling in the night, she fell and cut her palm near a small stream. A small glow from the water danced on her hand and stopped the bleeding. She told no one of this of course, for she had no idea what is was. When she finally returned to her tribe, her father had given her the sword she still carries with her today. There was nothing special about the sword, only that it was from her father and it was incredibly light weighted with the signature symbol of her tribe emgraved on the hilt.
A few weeks later when she returned from a hunting trip, she found her tribe completely destroyed. There were no survivors. With only the bare necessities with her, she decided to leave everything behind and go to Langard, to find a new life, and hopefully, those who had destroyed her home.
Weaponry: about 5 random daggers/ throwing knife from boot knives to one on her hip. As for swords, a simple Elven sword her father made her (nothing special, just more sentimental). Also, a small bow for hunting.
Armor: very light, basic armor. Prefers to just have a normal tunic, pants, and boot combo if just traveling. Big battle? Armor is always a good thing.
Mercenary Experience: none, but willing to learn from an experienced one. (Has very well trained fighting technique though)
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VaskarTheHunter
Fallen from the path once walked.
Name: Vaskar Donashta
Age: 27
Race:Human Samurai
Gender: Male
Sexuality: heterosexual
Appearance:<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_07/image.jpeg.0049b65d125ca4644503a260c6b04a03.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="141039" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_07/image.jpeg.0049b65d125ca4644503a260c6b04a03.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Occupation:Lone Samurai
Homeland: Unknown to him.
Spell casting: none
Alignment: well fitted
Deity: His ancestors
Bio:When he was a child he was forced to watch as several shades slaughtered his entire family and clan. Ever since then he had become a loner. Training in the ways of the samurai. He followed the clans traditions to the letter. On one night his ancestors came to him and gifted him with enhanced reflexes. Making him faster, stronger and more agile then any warrior known. Now he searches for the shades that destroyed his clan. Seeking justice soaked in blood.
Weapons: he bares a naginato and silver dagger as his primaries. Longbow, throwing knives and stars, along with a break-down spear.
Armor: dawning traditional samurai battle attire. (As shown)
Mercinary works: Lone samurai. Has fought against many races but never under a hired banner. Only under his clan's and only for the right reasons.
Age: 27
Race:Human Samurai
Gender: Male
Sexuality: heterosexual
Appearance:<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_07/image.jpeg.0049b65d125ca4644503a260c6b04a03.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="141039" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_07/image.jpeg.0049b65d125ca4644503a260c6b04a03.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Occupation:Lone Samurai
Homeland: Unknown to him.
Spell casting: none
Alignment: well fitted
Deity: His ancestors
Bio:When he was a child he was forced to watch as several shades slaughtered his entire family and clan. Ever since then he had become a loner. Training in the ways of the samurai. He followed the clans traditions to the letter. On one night his ancestors came to him and gifted him with enhanced reflexes. Making him faster, stronger and more agile then any warrior known. Now he searches for the shades that destroyed his clan. Seeking justice soaked in blood.
Weapons: he bares a naginato and silver dagger as his primaries. Longbow, throwing knives and stars, along with a break-down spear.
Armor: dawning traditional samurai battle attire. (As shown)
Mercinary works: Lone samurai. Has fought against many races but never under a hired banner. Only under his clan's and only for the right reasons.
Attachments
[border]Oswald Oresmith [/border]
"The Dwarfs once held magnificent kingdoms and buildings! ...but they are gone now. All thanks to those damned monsters."
Race: Dwarf
Age: "It's been a long 307 years in this world. Don't let my age fool you! I've still got a lot of fight in me!"
Gender: Male - "I wield a hammer down there."
Appearance:
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