Fantasy Realm of Vardisso

[Reinhardt]

Character Sheets Tab

Welcome to the character tab, where character sign-ups will be done, and the character roster will be located. In this tab, only character sheets may be posted. Should you require or receive feedback, it will be done in the OOC tab.


Before creating your character, please be sure to have read the overview for the necessary information you'll need to appropriately create and play your character. An approved character will be receiving a like from me.




Character Roster:


- Baron Roger de Tourneville


- Feria Centuron


- Old Man Carja


- Arthur Bell


- Vulkan Gebore


- Vilik Duras


- Keelyn Jones


- Aiden Miller


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Creating a Character

Before you create a character, first you must read and understand a few terms located in the character sheet, so you would be able to come up with a well-made and appropriate character.


First would be Origin. This will define whether you are one of the transported individuals from Earth, or a resident of Vardisso. Simply type in the location where your character originated from - either Earth, or a place in Vardisso.


Next would be Backstory. This will reveal a part of your character's history why they are at their current state now. Here, you may create a long or short backstory, based on your preference, narrating the events your character has gone through before he would be transported to Vardisso, or your character's life before the current events.


Now, onto Skills. These are your character's skills, obviously. However, they are not the skills used in combat, rather they are outside of combat. Examples of such would be prowess in map-reading, various language proficiency, and whatnot.


And finally, Combat and Magic Credentials. On both sections you must input two numbers equating to 100, and describe your character's combat and magical capabilities, respectively. What are the numbers for you might ask? They are the prowess of your character in the said field. For example, a character has 90 in combat and 10 in magic, this shows that the character is much better in physical conflicts rather than magical. Refer to the overview regarding prowess levels.


A transported character, or character from Earth, must skip this section (Combat and Magic Credentials) until further notice, for plot purposes, obviously. But what if my character is inexperienced, or shall we say, still in the process of learning? Then, the numbers will be halved, and equated to 50 instead, until the time the character becomes an adept in their respective field.




The character sheet template is located below. You may add more details to it, but no less.

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Name:
Age:
Gender:
Origin:

Appearance: (a short description of the character's looks)

Personality: (a paragraph, in the least)

Backstory: (describe the character's life)
[/tab][tab=Credentials]
Skills:

Combat Credentials:

Magic Credentials:

Equipment: (all the character carries, be reasonable. too much will be weighing heavily, thus affecting your character)
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Spoiler

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[Anaxial]

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  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_02/d1a664bca214bf785a293cbc87950fc4.jpg.40552f74e34bb0e2e3469f5185cf9470.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="109067" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_02/d1a664bca214bf785a293cbc87950fc4.jpg.40552f74e34bb0e2e3469f5185cf9470.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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  Name: Baron Roger de Tourneville
  
  
  Age: 34
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Origin: Eitszal Federation
  
  
  Appearance: A weathered man of middle age, Sir Roger's age has begun to catch up to him of late. Crows feet find themselves burrowed around his hazel eyes and deep creases form around his cheeks. His nose is bulbous and perhaps a bit more stout than most men that would be regarded as handsome though he is content with the admiration of his wife. His hair is black as night with the first signs of an old man's greys digging up from his pores on his pocketed face making the thick stubble adorned on his face an ashy grey.
  
  
  Tall and broad, Sir Roger stands at an impressive 6'5 and weighs a compromising 230lbs. A venerable giant among men of the common, Sir Roger's physique has began to fail him as well, while muscle is still ever present, it is slowly being daubed with layers of fat perhaps giving one a false perception and mistaking strength for gluttony.
  
  
  Personality: Proud and stubborn as any good Baron of Eitszal would be, do not let his regent position convince one that he lazy or pampered. Even the Barons of Eitszal faced hardships unlike those in Grawen or Vanate, even more so with the death of their beloved King. Sir Roger is a man who is content with his marital affairs, his wife: Lady Catherine a shining gem among the chaos of late, fair faced with flowing golden hair, a true Goddess that has blessed Sir Roger and drives him ever further to protect the locals of his Fiefs.
  
  
  Unafraid of the larger forces of Vanate, never stirring at the sight of three armies crashing down upon but one broken Kingdom, Sir Roger is a man who fights to reunite his people and drive these invaders from his home.
  
  
  Backstory: Born in the former Kingdom of Eitszal to Baron Poul de Tourneville and Lady Magnolia, Sir Roger was raised from his birth to lead and inspire men. Knowing that his fate was to lead the fiefs and serve the King when he died, the Honorable Poul de Tourneville ensured that his only child, his only son would be prepared.
  
  
  From his earliest memory, his father pressured Sir Roger to be the best that he could be. A focus on refinement taught him the elegancy of the court and the bulwark of Diplomacy, while a focus on the martial taught him the elegancy of the sword, and the bulwark of a shield. Though most of his early life was spent training on refinement, upon reaching 16 he began extensive training in the Martial. Needless to say, Sir Roger fought his own hardships growing up, though they perhaps were not the starvation of a fief, the fear of death at a raiders hand, but rather the pressure of a Kingdom that could fail if he made but a foul gesture. Facing many challenges, Sir Roger never wavered though it was never easy and had a lasting effect on him that echoes even today.
  
  
  Sir Roger eventually superseded his father when the Honorable Poul de Tourneville fell too ill to lead the Fiefdom following the death of Lady Magnolia. Aging only 23, Sir Roger took his new appointment with a grain of salt. He was calm and focused and though he may have been younger than most of the other Barons, Sir Roger was respected merely for the faith the others put in his Father's training. It was during one such festival hosted in Sir Roger's own Fief of Lincolnshire that Sir Roger fell head over heels for Lady Catherine, the two marrying not two months after their first introductions.
  
  
  Now Sir Roger strives to reunite his beloved countrymen, hoping to show them that unless they stand together... They will all fall.
  
  
  
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  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_02/57a8c7e8358ba_ss(2016-02-18at12.36.28).jpg.920de546e4fa385e8a362f8e07a1f30c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="106687" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_02/57a8c7e8358ba_ss(2016-02-18at12.36.28).jpg.920de546e4fa385e8a362f8e07a1f30c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
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  Skills:
  
  
  Being born to lead countrymen and comprehend treatise, Sir Roger is fluent in all common languages that may be spoken by the various kingdoms of the World.
  
  
  A skilled hunter and outdoorsman, Sir Roger is able to last in the wilderness with minimal supplies far longer than your average footman. This makes long Campaigns relatively easy on him, yet harder on his men.
  
  
  Being a skilled Taciturn goes beyond the battlefield and allows the Baron to have a better grasp on most things happening around him. It is difficult to overwhelm this man with swords or with orders.
  
  
  Combat Credentials: 95
  
  
  Undoubtably a deadly man on the battlefield, he fights with an: all or nothing style. Either he strikes you dead, or strikes you naught.
  
  
  Magic Credentials: 5
  
  
  Though incapable of using any real magic of his own, Sir Roger has always had a talent for detecting it inside others. Some say he can determine a magic-user from a commoner simply by gazing at him.
  
  
  Equipment:
  
  
  Black Steel Armor- A specially crafted armor passed down from de Tourneville father to de Tourneville son, it is a precious family heirloom that is ONLY to be passed to a DIRECT heir, no brothers, no cousins, no nephews. Only a son or a daughter can don the armor without disgracing it. However, it's immense weight may grant the user superb protection it can make it difficult to run or even jog in. It is usually donned DURING or just before a battle to avoid fatiguing Sir Roger.
  
  
  de Tourneville Greatsword- A less precious heirloom, this massive sword was looted from the corpse of a Grawen Lord ages ago by Sir Roger's grandfather of twelve score. Despite it's age and use, the blade is masterfully maintained and forged and continues to be a devastating weapon on the field of battle today. Each swing of the blade must be careful, as one foul swipe can set even the boulder Sir Roger off balance and vulnerable. However if the weapon strikes true, one can expect it to cleave render a mounted Knight, his armor, and his horse' armor naught.
  
  
  

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

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  Name: Feria Centuron [Pronounced Fair-ee-ah Cen-ter-on]
  
  
  Age: 14
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Origin: Vardisso
  
  
  Appearance
  
  The first thing you're going to notice about Feria is that mess of freckles covering her face. It greatly adds to her adorableness, though Feria would rather it not. Her eyes are a dark green eyes that can sometimes look a beautiful hazel depending on the lighting, and she has smooth, long, auburn hair that she'll often put up in a bun or braid. She's not sickly thin, but she is lithe and skinny, and stands at an average height for her age at 5'4". Overall, you could say Feria is quite pretty.
  
  
  She is most often seen in warm yet practical clothing, scarves and hats, cozy things. They tend to make her feel more at ease. She only has one accessory, her necklace. It is made out of worthless metals, but has a peculiar blue stone as a charm. She has various, small scars on her hands and arms, but the most noticeable is the one above her right eye, a fleshy pink among her olive colored skin and freckles.
  
  Personality
  
  Feria, at first, is a rather cold little lass. Her appearance portrays her as a sweet, gentle lady, but Feria shatters that image the moment she starts talking. At first meeting, she will look at you with cold, hard eyes, those pretty pink lips tugged down in a scowl, and a look that says "I don't trust you." That's because she's experienced the world for the cruel place it is, and she won't be fooled twice.
  
  
  Yes, for her age, Feria is rather intelligent. She has a keen eye, and not much slips past her. Feria is also incredibly hard working, ready to face any task presented to her head on, and even if she knows she can't do it, she probably won't admit it. She is very, very stubborn. She doesn't like admitting to faults, and will often refuse to accept the fact that she is incapable of doing something.
  
  
  Though there is another side to Feria, a gentle, truly innocent part of her. While she may not seem like it, she is still but a child, and she still needs to be loved. Those that she trusts see this side of her, but she doesn't trust often.
  
  
  Backstory
  
  Feria was born to Elaine and Ricard Centuron in the Aurania Kingdom. Her father was originally from the Vanate Empire, but he moved for his wife. Elaine's father was a traveling merchant from Aurania, and she accompanied him on most of his journeys, which was how she met Ricard. They fell in love, and settled down in Aurania to have a family.
  
  
  They did plan to have more children, but there were complications with Feria's birth that left her mother weak and sickly, so they decided against it. Her father, prior to moving, was an apprenticed blacksmith, using his fire magic to aid him with his duties. He'd wrapped up his training back in Vanate, and set up shop in Aurania.
  
  
  So, Feria grew. Her mother, though she constantly expressed her love for her daughter, was often bed-ridden, too weak to move. Feria was too young to understand, but loved her mother all the same. As not to disturb her when she rested, the little red-head spent the majority of her days with her father. He did his best to teach her his trade.
  
  
  Alas, when Feria was eleven, her mother finally passed away. Though it was a long time coming, it hit the two hard. Feria was not as bright as she used to be, and her father became quiet, rather then the hearty, warm man he was. They spoke less and less, and grew apart with every day.
  
  
  Feria ended up befriending a young boy her age in the days after her mother's passing. His name was Zachary, and greatly contrasting Feria's harsh personality, he was giddy, sarcastic, and wouldn't stop until he made Feria laugh. He helped her to move past her mother's death.
  
  
  In the most recent months, she slowly, but surely, began to discover capabilities in magic. It seemed she took from her mother's side, due to the ground often being covered in little trails of ice like footprints wherever she walked. It's only been a few days since her magic escalated, ice climbing the walls of their warm home, and Feria unsure on how to have it retreat.
  
  
  
  
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  Skills:
  
  
  • Blacksmithing - Though she is not an expert, she's been working with her father her whole life, has a pretty good grasp on how to make certain items. Her thin body type doesn't make it easy, but she's capable.
    
  • Sewing - When her mother was still alive, she taught Feria how to sew clothing, and patch up holes. It can be fairly useful at times, it saves money to repair old clothing.
    
  • Speed - Feria is quite fast. She can sprint for a good minute or two if need be.
    
  • Stealth - Being so small, it's easy for Feria to squeeze herself into small hiding places. She's also very light on her feet, and sometimes you might not even hear her enter the room.
    
  
  
  Combat Credentials: 10/50
  
  
  Magic Credentials: 40/50
  
  
  Equipment:
  
  
  • Her father fashioned her a dagger, one with beautiful engravings, custom-made just for her, for a worst case situation. She keeps it on her at all times.
    
  
  
  

 

[augmentedspartan]

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  Name: Old Man Carja
  
  
  Age: 71
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Origin: Grawen Kingdom
  
  
  Appearance: Old and withered with age, Carja looks more like a corpse than a living person. Years of bad diet and lack of exercise have finally caught up to him making his skinny frame sickish and lowering what would normally be average height into a hunching figure. As one would expect from an old man his hair has turned completely grey and hangs loose and unkempt over his shoulders, complimenting his disheveled and equally long beard.
  
  
  His clothing, while somewhat better is shape than his physical form, doesn't speak well about him either. Switching from one old robe to several layers depending on the weather, his fashion choices are equivalent to that of a poor person; but at least he washes them consistently.
  
  
  Personality: Mouth of a sailor and temper of a pirate, Carja is an unpleasant person to be around. He tends to speak his mind without sugarcoating any distasteful thoughts he has, disregarding manners or other people's feelings. Bordering on a superiority complex, Carja believes himself to be better than the average person and has no qualms in saying so. Even though this has put him through many difficult situations, old habits die hard for he has yet to change his way of speaking.
  
  
  Although his body is weak and aged, his mind is still far from senility. This, however, doesn't stop him from forgetting other people's name. One explanation could be that he simply doesn't care enough to remember them, although it is peculiar that the only part of his name he can remember is "Carja" without recalling if it was his given name or family name.
  
  
  Strangely enough, he has become quite attached to Frith, his mule, to the point that he treats him better than he would any person. Ignored is the fact that the original Frith died years ago and this is the third one he has had so far.
  
  
  Backstory: Carja's nomadic tendencies were implanted into him when he was a child. His parents, a pair of self proclaimed professional thieves, neither wanted nor had any idea how to raise a child so they let him loose at a young age, claiming that it was a family tradition for the oldest male of the family to part ways and explore the world. Telling themselves that he was old enough to take care of himself, they gave him a mule driven cart and basic provisions and left him without a second thought.
  
  
  Undisturbed by his sudden loneliness, Carja moved around the world feeding his only passion, magic. As escapism from his boring routine of odd jobs and pick-pocketing for money, he slowly but steadily amassed a collection of magical tomes. Devouring any and all magic teachings he could find throughout the years, he eventually found himself becoming quite adept at the magical arts.
  
  
  Weeks turned into months, which turned into years, and yet Carja kept travelling the world without any clear objective. His knowledge, both of magic and of the world itself, grew, but so did his cynicism and pessimism. His driving force for knowledge has turned into simple momentum, carrying him around without direction until the day of his death.
  
  
  
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  Skills:
  
  
  Pick-pocketing: Perhaps the only actual family tradition. His parents taught him the basics of emptying other people pockets. While not as swift or quick as when he was young, his technique is still quite good thanks to the aid of magic.
  
  
  Combat Credentials: 1
  
  
  Unable to even perform the most basics of attacks, due to lack of training and poor physical condition as a result of old age, Carja is defenseless in physical combat against anything more threatening than a fly.
  
  
  Magic Credentials: 99
  
  
  In contrast with his inability to fight, Carja excels in the usage of magic. Due to his Grawen origins his mastery lies on the nature element, however he is still quite capable of manipulating the other elements to great effect.
  
  
  Equipment: Due to his nomadic lifestyle everything that Carja owns fits on his cart. This consists mostly of books and manuals, all of them about magic, as well as basic necessities like food and extra clothing. Aside from his clothes and whatever money he has at the moment, the only item he carries with him is his walking stick.
  
  
  

 

[Average]

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  (Still hunting down a picture to use)
  
  
  Name: Arthur Bell
  
  
  Age: 18
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Origin: Earth
  
  
  Appearance: Arthur is the very definition of a lanky,asian young adult. He stands at 5'10 and maintains a weight of about 115 pounds giving him a very slim frame. A weight due to his years of being your semi-stereotypical geek. His skin is of a light brown tone, a result of being born brown but not going out much. His eyes are a deep brown. The sides of his hair is tapered moderately thin, but his front is cut medium and parted to the right, the entirety of which is black. The one accesory he never parts with is his thick-rimmed glasses. Without it he would be abysmally blind.
  
  
  Arthur's usual wardrobe consisits of a cardigan and T-shirt underneath , ankle high leather boots, and skinny jeans. If in the occasion his clothes were not acceptable due to, lets say, wordly constraints, then Arthur would probably opt for a learher jerkin with a dark olive tunic underneath , slimmed down trousers, simple leather shoes, and a cloak to round out his preferred wardrobe.
  
  
  Personality: Arthur is a curious fellow. He enjoys knowledge and the simple act of knowing things, airgo he's developed a love for learning. Despite this however, He is a relatively lax person. His the apitude to be curious about many things maybe present, but if it requires a medium amount of effort to go off and know or do something with no notable gain, then he would rather not do it. One exception tho, is talking. Arthur loves to converse with just about anybody, making him a pretty sociable guy(or a really annoying dolt that doesnt shut up. Its all in prespective). Also, he likes to believe he's a witty individual and tends to joke about most situations, even in life threatning ones. However, it's mostly a facial mask. Under his light-hearted exterior is someone who is very calculated in his thoughts and actions albeit with a queer rationale. His tendency to visibly understate most things has three simple reasonings. First, Arthur believes that a giddy(and at the very least calm) demeanor goes a long way in keeing oneself content. Secondly, he believes his ability to think efficiently is his greatest asset, a secret weapon of sorts. Meaning its best to keep his thought processing somewhat two faced. Lastly, and most importantly, the effort to worry about shit results in the loss in the amount fun you can have not worrying. A very important concept to lazy people. Above all else Arthur strongly believes in maintaining a morally flexible mindset. To survive means to adapt, and to adapt means to keep as many options available. Therefore, permanent ideals and blind faith, to him, are concepts that get men killed. Not in all cases, but in most. This leads into his sort of grey perspective in life meaning everything requires more than just a black-and-white point of view. To truly understand the world, or any world, one must consider all factors that make such things a reality. The real exception to his way of thought is love. Both romantic and platonic. As it stands caring for people brings about plethora of skewed results. Because, honestly, as silly as it sounds, doing unreasonable things for the people you love is a reasonable in any occasion. Just as long as what one does is worth the possible end result.
  
  
  Backstory: His Life was like most 21st century American-Asian teenagers. Arthur went to school and did relatively well, had two strict but loving parents, and enjoyed everything a middle class life had to offer. But it was his education that started him off on a path to geekdom. Specifically, a book, long forgotten in the back shelves of a school library, titled "Poison." The story, as it turned out, was your average fantasy telling. It had a protagonist, named after the title of the book, who had the seemingly impossible task of rescuing her sister trapped in an alice like realm. The novel had the heroine travel a great many extraordinary places and face off against a great many more foes. Swamp villages owned by slave masters , vagrant filled ghost towns , and a witch's pocket gateway dimension; These were a few adventures to the story's main arc. Suffice to say the book lit Arthur's imagination. He reveled in the fantasies of adventure and magical places and yearned for more. For years he would indulge in dozens of fantasy books and enjoy a number fantasy video games all of which fed his love for the genre. This was quite literally all he did in his childhood even becoming a bit obsess with the idea of a "fantasy world", but as time went on the reality of life seeped away his dedication.
  
  
  His downfall started in high school, an institution that required an obscene amount of time from the young teen, mostly due to his own decisions. As it turns out only being known as a total fantasy geek wasn't regarded as cool. So, taking advantage of his ability to grasp new skills, he joined the school's guitar class(because cool kids play guitar) as a means of standing out. He was successful in picking up the instrument, but that simply wasn't enough. As the years continued Arthur would join the debate team, started akali training(a filipini martial art. again because cool kids know how to fight), and became an academic decathlete. In all these things he did relatively well in, but never really excelled any of them. The goal was, of course, to be known in school. And he achieved his goal eventualy earning the name the "know it all who tries it all". Not exactly what he expected, but it was leagues better than being a total geek. Despite his busy schedule, he still managed to squeak out a book, or a few hours of game time, just to keep his own geeky fantasies alive. Atleast for time.
  
  
  As turns out however, Arthur had to grow up. He would eventually graduate high school and beg/' college entering into the field of Psychology. By then his dedication to the fantasy genre had faded away, becoming only a memory of his childhood past. In it place was a more realistic and slightly matured Arthur whohas gone through his younger years of adolescence. It was, he thought, time to be somewhat serious about the future. About the progress of his own life. Well ..that is, until one fateful day he, seemingly out of nowhere, literally, went poof.
  
  
  
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  Skills:
  
  
  Musician's intuition: With his knowledge of how to play one of the most universal string instruments and knowing a solid amount of music theory, Arthur's ability to pick up and learn any such instrument would be considerably easier
  
  
  Silver tongued :Arthur's years spent debating multiple kinds of topics and perspectives( as debate requires a debater to argue both sides) has trained him in the art of tactful arguing, especially in front of an audience. This also granted him the exceptional ability of making anything that comes out of his mouth seem authentic. He could, theoretically, argue any side of a topic as long as he has an adequate amount of info towards the subject matter.
  
  
  Amateur Psyche: Arthur may have not gotten far into his studies in Psychology before he went poof, but he certainly has done a moderate amount of pre-learning in the subject. As such his understanding of the human psyche surpasses that of your average joe
  
  
  Rigorous studying: being a very rigorous student throughout his years subject areas like math and science would fall into his field of understanding(assuming fundamental laws apply). Also, due to his time spent in decathlon and various college level courses, his ability to retain information in any subject matter would be significantly better than most.
  
  
  Combat Credentials: N/A
  
  
  Magic Credentials:N/A
  
  
  Equipment: N/A
  
  
  

 

[Orion Pax]

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  (the code for the image wasn't working for me, likely just an error on my part, so sorry if the alignment is off)
  
  

  

  
  
  Name: Vulkan Gebore
  
  Age: 28
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Origin: Vanate Empire
  
  Appearance: Vulkan's body reflects the intense training he was forced to undergo in order to become a battlemage of the Vanate Empire. He is reasonably tall, standing at 6'3" and weighs in at around 200 lbs. His dark-skinned body is well-developed and muscular and he strikes an imposing figure, making sure to keep good posture in all situations. He typically dresses in medium-strength steel armor that can conduct his heat energy and allow him to channel it more efficiently. His hair is black and softly spiked in order to maintain his imposing presence.
  
  Personality: Vulkan is proud, though not chivalrous. He cares little for the moral code outside the battlefield, preferring to settle issues with his fists (and fire). When he is fighting, he is exactly as you would expect a fire-mage to be, hot-headed, bold, and willing to rush headlong into any foe, no matter the perceived strength. Though he is an honorable and reliable ally on the battlefield, off it he is crude, awkward, and challenged to fit in with society. He feels that he has no place away from fighting the enemies of the Vanate, likely a result of the brutal regimen he was put through to develop the combat prowess he has today.
  
  Backstory: Vulkan was born in the Vanate Empire to a middle-class blacksmithing family it was soon discovered that he had an affinity for fire magic and that his father hoped that he would one day become a renowned weapon-smith. Unfortunately, Vulkan lacked the concentration or precision needed for metalworking, and he was relegated to keeping the fire hot for his father's work. One day, when Vulkan was around 10 years old, Vanate military commanders went on a recruitment-run, drafting all those skilled with fire magic for a new program. Vulkan, seeing no future as a smith, went gladly to train as a battlemage. The training process mixed physical combat and magical ability, striving for a balance between the two, in order to create fearsome, fire-adept soldiers with which to crush the rival factions in Vardisso. The training was harsh and unrelenting, pressing the initiates as much as possible to squeeze out every bit of potential. Vulkan devoted himself to this path, working hard to become one of the empire's battlemages. Eventually, they were deployed as a strike-force against the Eitszals. However, the war raged on and an increasing demand for soldiers made extended training programs ineffective. Vulkan is currently one of the few remaining battlemages of the empire. His training has made him a fearsome warrior and vicious force on the battlefield, but the time he spent in training made it hard to adjust to normal life. He constantly seeks new battlefields, because that is all that feels natural to him.
  
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  Skills:
  
  Vulcan has some experience in a blacksmith's shop, so he is knowledgable of different types of metal and sword/armor designs but his is unable to actually create anything. Beyond that, most of his life has been spent training in combat so he carries no other useful skills or feats.
  
  Combat Credentials: 50
  
  Vulcan mixes fire magic with blistering melee attacks to deliver punches and kicks with heat. He has no training with weapons and would be uncomfortable using them, so he can be very vulnerable if he does not have the initiative in hand-to-hand combat.
  
  Magic Credentials: 50
  
  Vulcan concentrates much of his fire energy to his hands, making him able to cast fireballs and channel fire into his melee attacks. A favorite trick of his is to pick up a large rock and throw it at someone while channeling a burst of heat into it, causing it to turn to lava in the air and melt armor and flesh. In most matters, he is an adept magic user that can perform most mid-level fire magic.
  
  Equipment: All he carries with him is his medium-armor and a small supply of rations
  
  

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[Efajigaloop]

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  Name: Vilis Durak
  
  
  Age: 17
  
  
  Gender: M
  
  
  Origin: Eitszal Federation
  
  
  Appearance: 5’7, Vilis stands at a pretty average height. He has a nondescript face, and long, dark brown hair tied back into a ponytail. He is usually clean shaven, however sometimes on extended breaks from work he grows his beard out. He has brown-hazel eyes and bushy eyebrows. He wears pretty standard clothes normally, but when on a job he wears his mask, along with armour and a very dark blue cloak.
  
  
  Personality: Vilis is primarily concerned with looking out for himself, and has no qualms with doing things considered evil, as long as the paycheck is appropriate, however he values camaraderie and is loyal to his friends. He has no problems talking or holding a conversation, and is an expert manipulator as well. He is often found enjoying himself at taverns after a job, however once on the job, he is dead serious and very little can stop him. When angered, he doesn’t get loud, he gets dead silent, and usually violent.
  
  
  Backstory: Vilis grew up in a prominent assassin's guild after a man named Larus Silverstone discovered that his mark had a child and decided to take him in. As he grew older, the child began to show his remarkable aptitude for the more unsavory arts, however when he was twelve, he discovered that behind the guild was a cult. The guild was ruled by a powerful mage who was worshipped as a god. He gave the members enchantments, spells, and other magical aids so they would be nigh on impossible to detect. As he sat watching the strange ceremony, the mage called him over from his hidden viewpoint. Everyone was to stunned to get angry about his eavesdropping, and he was too stunned himself to do anything other then silently obey. The mage sat for several minutes watching, and The tension was palpable through the complete silence. Eventually, the mage announced that Vilis had been chosen to be his disciple, and began to teach him the ways of the arcane. The mage introduced himself as “The Darkness,” and son Vilis began to understand the ways of magic and how to use them to achieve true power. After several years, one of The Darkness’ experiments went wrong while vilis was on a job. When he returned, the guild was dark, the fireplace was out, and yet there was a faint crackling sound. As he drew closer, he realized that the fire was in fact burning, but there was no light. As he realized this, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, and terrified, ran from the building. As he looked back, he saw the haunted face of the man who had been like a father, no longer a man, but a walking corpse. He kept running till he was well outside the city, before collapsing on the ground. He then left the city, and began to travel the realm in search of odd jobs, his only goal to continue providing enough for himself to forget the terrible incident through whatever means presented themselves.
  
  
  
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  Skills:
  
  
  Stealth: Raised as an assassin from a very young age, Vilis can pass unnoticed with ease, and he augments this ability with magic when necessary.
  
  
  Poison making: Trained in the art of making poisons for any occasion out of ingredients from all over the world, Vilis maintains an impressive stock.
  
  
  Manipulation: An important skill for an assassin, he is an expert at making others realize they think what he wants them to.
  
  
  Combat Credentials: 40
  
  
  Vilis can hold his own in a brawl or a knife fight just fine, and is a pretty good shot with his crossbow. He is skilled at silently and efficiently killing an unsuspecting target, but in a straight up fight against a competent foe he would be at a disadvantage.
  
  
  Magic Credentials: 60
  
  
  Vilis is quite skilled at dark magic, though he avoids the more evil aspects of it after what happened to the guild. He is most proficient at concealing himself and making poisons, however he can also use more utility and offensive spells when necessary.
  
  
  Equipment:
  
  
  1 Enchanted wooden mask which covers the face of the wearer in shadow
  
  
  1 Set of leather armour
  
  
  4 Daggers
  
  
  1 Hooded cloak
  
  
  1 bandolier of various poisons
  
  
  1 Folding crossbow
  
  
  

 

[Yanire]

• Profile
• Credentials

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  Name: Keelyn Jones
  
  Age:22
  
  Gender:Female
  
  Origin:Earth
  
  Appearance: Keelyn's always been called "short", but tries the best she can to make her 5'4" frame imposing when her capabilities are challenged. Her hair is straight, and bears a color between dark blonde and light brown. Her eyes are a subtle hue of blue and grey. Often, she is seen by her friends and loved ones wearing scrubs when she is going to or coming from the hospital at which she's employed. Otherwise, she does little to dress up, and enjoys her leisure time in jeans or sweat pants.
  
  Personality: Although she approaches most every situation with a level-head, Keelyn can have a bit of a temper if the right buttons are pushed. Primarily, rationality and logic are her best friends, and she is always kind to those whom need her assistance or care. She dislikes confrontation, but will meet it head-on if necessary.
  
  Backstory: Born a middle-child, Keelyn never thought of herself as extraordinary. Her family meant everything to her before the divorce complicated things. Then, she only saw her younger brother on the weekends, and her older sister had left their small Midwestern abode for the coast as soon as she graduated high school. The years passed, and with them, so did her father. As Keelyn was moving to a nearby University, her brother had returned home to live permanently with their mother until he, too, would be ready to leave the nest. She found a few moments of glory on the University's track team, but everyone needs to graduate sometime. After obtaining her degree and a new career as a registered nurse, Keelyn was ready to make the world her own. However, there was one thing that she insisted she would never give up.
  
  Tabletop RPGs. Ever since she'd rolled her first twenty-sided dice in high school, Keelyn was attached to the various misadventures that came with doing so. Her favorite was Dungeons and Dragons, which truly sparked her imagination. After leaving home, it was easy to find a group to play with in the mid-sized university town. It was a good outlet for imagination... And for all of life's other various stressors. She grew adamant that graduating from college would not keep her from their game. They met every weekend at the local comic store after hours, and after four years of adventuring together her and her four other companions became close friends.
  
  On this particular night, she had been rushing to the comic store following a long hospital shift, hoping she'd not be late for their game. Her scrubs were spattered with droplets as the rain had begun to pour down. As fate would have it, she arrived just in time - but things grew strange when Keelyn went missing only a few moments after arriving.
  
  ​
• 
  
  Skills: healing/medicine
  
  Combat Credentials: N/A
  
  Magic Credentials: N/A
  
  Equipment: (her backpack, which contains all of the things she took to work with her that day) cell phone, stethoscope, mints, medical tape and scissors, saline flushes, dice set, D&D 5th Ed. Player's handbook. A watch.
  
  

​

​

​

 

[callmenox]

• Profile
• Credentials

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Aiden Miller.
  
  
  Age: 26 year-old.
  
  
  Gender: Male.
  
  
  Origin: Boston, Massachusetts, USA, Earth.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  Aiden lost his left leg in a car accident a few years ago, and that's what people usually see first: the guy in the wheelchair. Blond hair, brown eyes, big grin – that doesn't matter. People always see the wheelchair first. The missing leg.
  
  
  Most of the time, that's all they're ready to see. They don't care about the cheekbones, the broad jaw, the big nose, the eyes sunken deep into their sockets. Aiden can smile all he wants, and laughs as loud as he's able to, it's hard to shake off the pity in people's eyes. He got used to it by now and fights it back with all he can. Not only does he work out along his physical therapy session, he also takes a lot of pride and care in his appearance. The well-crafted stubble and the carefully-constructed spikey hairstyle take most of his preparation time in the morning. He usually wears band t-shirts with a leather jacket, blue jeans and accessories: dog tag, sunglasses, rider gloves, whatever makes him look cool and confident.
  
  Personality:
  
  
  “Hey, babe, my eyes are down there.” If his disability is the first thing that people notice about Aiden, his sense of humour is probably the second. Humour is a wonderful thing, both a shield and a weapon. It's easier to laugh at your shortcomings when you're the one who makes the jokes, after all, and it reminds people that he's still a perfectly functioning human being. Sarcastic and prone to tease, Aiden loves a good comeback: it shows that people consider him an equal.
  
  
  Perhaps that's his greatest weakness – his fear of being useless and good as dead, his internalized ableism. Aiden would rather suffer in silence than be a burden to anyone. He hates the idea of being in debt and would rather crawl than ask for help. Call it misplaced pride, call it a self-defence mechanism: that's the way he is. Even before the accident, he wasn't the sort of guy who just waits for life to pass him by. There's stuff out there for the taking, places to see, friends to meet: a missing leg didn't quieten his hunger for life and new experiences.
  
  
  That's his strength, his will to live and life fully. He's that friend that always pushes you to your limits. ”What do you mean, I can't go hiking because I'm in a wheelchair? Why yes, of course I can jump from that waterfall, I still have a leg and a half!” That's Aiden: he doesn't let anything stop him, because if he stops moving, he breaks. It's easier not to think, it's easier to pretend to have come to terms with his situation than to face the fact that he'll never run again, or dance, or surf, or all those fun things that used to make him feel so alive. Darkness is always there, lurking in the back corners of his soul. He rarely talks of his life before the accident – it's less painful that way. Aiden wants to move forward, to look towards the future. He won't let anything bring him down.
  
  
  And he won't let anything bringing his friends down easier: loyal and optimistic, usually more confident in their own ability than themselves, he's pleasant to hang out with and interesting to keep around.
  
  Backstory:
  
  
  There's nothing much to say about Aiden's life. He was born to an history teacher and her stay-at-home husband, a screenplay writer. He was the eldest of three siblings, and the joy of all who knew him. Kindergarden, primary school, middle school, high school – years passed and the baby boy grew up to be a sturdy and risk-taking child, his knees always scrapped and his hands forever dirty.
  
  
  His parents, looking for a channel to this imperious strength and this never-ending energy, enrolled him in the local football club. The child evolved into a bulky teen, somewhat avoiding that awkward phase were limbs don't grow at the same rate, and found himself a new purpose, in the clash of helmets, the impact of tackles, the magic of those Friday night lights. He wasn't the best, he wasn't the worst, but he was doubtlessly the one with the most sportsmanship, always greeting the other team, trying to make sure that everyone's having fun, looking out for his mates. He could have made captain, Aiden, he really could have; and maybe keep on playing, after graduation, yes, he had the potential. He definitely did.
  
  
  Alas, as his grandmother said, it wasn't meant to be.
  
  
  One Saturday night, when he was seventeen, Aiden got run over by a car on his way home. He was coming back from a party, drunkenly singing to himself in the warm summer air. He never saw it coming. The other driver was drunk, lost control of his car and killed himself, crashing against a tree by the road. It was one of those little countryside road only used by the locals: it took hours to find him. By then, Aiden had lost both consciousness and a lot of blood – he remembers laying there, thinking he was going to die, although he probably got knocked out by the sheer shock of the accident.
  
  
  Aiden woke up in the hospital, covered in bandages and missing half of his left leg. Needless to say that he didn't take it extremely well: he was quite the sporty type, he was a big brother, he was on his way to be a professional football player, he wasn't... some disabled bloke in a wheelchair. Darkness took him and took him hard. He spent almost three months confined in his room, refusing to go out or to talk to anyone. Classmates tried to visit him, but he refused to see them – or rather, he refused to be seen by them. He wished they'd keep the memories of his bright smile and his fast stride, and not tarnish them with what he had become. Acceptance took him a long time. It probably hasn't dawned on him just yet that he is no less of a man now that he used to, yet he started trying, going out of his room, attending physical therapy, adapting his ambitions and career plans to his new condition. No more football, no more dreams of making it in the army; the good guys would have to find someone else to fight that battle for them.
  
  
  Aiden focused on his studies instead. He graduated high school in another town, casting his old life away. Enrolling in a community college, he took classes in foreign languages – learning French, Spanish, German. He discovered that he had a knack for drawing, and started taking classes for that too. Drawing was a great conversation starter. Because he was so different from the artistic, shy, inspired type, he started to make friends, hanging out with artists, musicians, singers, selling his paintings in flea markets and designing album covers. Life got good again. He passed his exams with flying colours and started to work as a book translator. It wasn't the most excitement-ridden of works, but he got paid doing something he loved, so he wasn't the one to complain too much.
  
  
  Years could have passed that way. He could have met someone, maybe have a serious relationship for one, start a family. He could have bought a house in the suburbs somewhere, with a white fence and a service dog.
  
  
  That as well wasn't meant to be.
  
  
  One bright morning, Aiden left for his morning “stroll” around the neighbourhood. His roommate later said that he looked normal, just like he always did, dressed in his fake casual style, promising to get them some milk on his way back. He was never to be seen again. They did find his wheelchair, a couple of blocks away, knocked down by the side of the road, but Aiden himself was never heard of again.
  
  
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  Skills:
  
  
  Contagious Cheerfulness. With his optimistic nature and his over-the-top love of life, Aiden won't let anyone be sad in his sight. He listens to people's trouble and tries to dry their tears. He has an uncanny sense of what to do or to say to make people feel better, some sort of instinct or aura that help them relax and laugh again. One could say that it's his own very form of charisma. It's hard to be grumpy around him, and if that sounds like as useless a trick as it comes, it has helped him make tons of friends in the past.
  
  
  Artistic Aspirations. Aiden enjoys drawing and painting a lot, both traditionally and digitally. He's actually not that bad at ill. He even thought about making a living out of it a few years back, but his parents pressured him into getting a “real job”.
  
  
  Learned in Languages. Aiden has studied French, Spanish and German at university, and speaks them with various degrees of proficiency. As such, he's usually the quick learner, picking up new words and grammar structure quite easily.
  
  
  Combat Credentials: N/A.
  
  
  Magic Credentials: N/A.
  
  
  Equipment: N/A.