Fantasy Sound and Fury CS

[Rusty of Shackleford]

I'll make this brief. Rules are no overpowered characters, no magical races, no magic of any kind, and they must fit the universe. Face claims can be realistic or anime as long as it fits. Anyway, here's the CS!

Name: (Duh)

Sex: (Men and women can both fight)

Sexual Orientation: (No bigotry here/)

Marital Status: (You can marry anyone regardless of sex)

Title: (Any nicknames they may have)

Age: (They must be at least 20 years old. No 16 year olds that are master warriors just a few months after they picked up a sword)

Height:

Weight:

Appearance: (Description, face claim, or both)

Weapon(s): (No massive swords that no one could possibly wield or other such impractical weapons. These have to be battle-proven weapons.)

Armor: (No chainmail bikinis. REAL armor, like plate armor or chainmail.)

Personality: (Optional)

Background: (Optional)

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Name: Perival Lewis Brightwall

Title: "The Black Wolf of Byrne," "The Oathbreaker"

Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Marital Status: Married

Age: 27

Height: 6'3

Weight: 200 lbs.

Appearance:

Weapon(s):
Longsword: A memory if his past, his longsword was once silver with ornate engravings and a fancy hilt. Now the blade is black, the engravings faded and the hilt having a loose piece of clothing wrapped around it after the old one ripped too much. Like most weapons, it's made of an alloy that allows it to cut through armor to an extent, though not like butter. On the pommel is the head of a wolf, having turned black as well.

Armor: (No chainmail bikinis. REAL armor, like plate armor or chainmail.)
Plate and Chain: Percy wears a mixture of both plate and chain mail, like most former knights of the Legion. It as well has turned black, with the symbol of a wolf faded on the back, a reminder of who he used to be.

Personality: TBR

Background: TBR (Really just lazy)

 

[KaldorDraigo]

Completed.

Name: Ramona Olympiodora Gregora of House Vatatzes

Sex: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual(?)

Marital Status: Single.

Title: "Scion of War."

Age: 27

Height: 5'11

Weight: 180lbs

Appearance:



Weapon(s):

Damascarene Bastard Sword. Crafted by the forge-masters in the City of Blades, this weapon was given to Ramona as a gift on the evening after her very first battle. Shell-shocked by the violence and drained from the adrenaline her father had summoned her to his tent and promptly presented the blade without a word. Exquisitely made the Wootz steel shine a dull blue in the flickering torchlight. Famed across the known world for it's durability and ability to hold an edge, there are few other weapons in the world that can compare to a Damascarene blade. This sword can pierce through most mail, shattering blades made of lesser material and gut even the largest man with contemptous ease. With a waiting list years long, due to the extremely complex and time consuming method of forging and re-forging, this one blade is worth more than a company of heavy cavalrymen.

Ramona does have a heater shield to use when she has to fight on foot.

Armor: Heavy plate armor.

Personality: (Optional)

Background: Born the sole heir to the grand house of Vatatzes. Hers is a legacy of great generals of the Byzantine Empire. When the Latinkon peoples were still a tiny city state and struggling to defend themselves against their neighbors, a lowly mercenary captain by the name of Tiberius Vatatzes raised up a company of 1000 men and subdued the surrounding areas, providing the Latinkon with the respite they needed to grow and prosper.

Ever since then her ancestors have forever been enshrined in the history of the Empire as great generals, men and women possesing great tactical acumen. Almost singlehandedly the house of. Vatatzes reformed the Latinkon military from a rabble of levies and untrained nobles into a well disciplined, organized and well supplied fighting machine. Today when the Legions of the Byzantine Empire go to war, the sound of thousands of boots hitting the ground in tandem sends shivers of both awe and fear through it's foes.

But the Vatatzes have made as many enemies as they have allies in their long and illustrious history, something that Ramona would learn at too high a price.

 

[SirGrey]

WIP
Name: Tiobóid Ternion

Title: 'Steel Breaker'

Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: Bi

Marital Status: Single

Age: 40

Height: 6' 5"

Weight: 220lbs

Appearance:

Weapon(s): Battle Axe
Like a lot of weapons, Tioboid's two-handed battleaxe is made of wrought iron. He has had it for a number of years, though never was one for emotional attachment to weapons. They simply must get the job done. However, he did crave a small symbol from his warmer homeland. He uses it to try and cleve going mostly for arms, legs and heads. He even uses the blunt sides to try and bash people in a pinch.

Armour: Toiboid wears a mix of plate and chainmail amour with belts to help carry supplies and yellow markings from his homeland. He doesn't wear pelts as he is from warmer lands.

Personality: (Optional)

Background: (Optional)

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Completed.

Name: Ramona Olympiodora Gregora of House Vatatzes

Sex: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual(?)

Marital Status: Single.

Title: "Scion of War."

Age: 27

Height: 5'10

Weight: 175lbs

Appearance:
View attachment 445472


Weapon(s):
View attachment 446037
Damascarene Bastard Sword. Crafted by the forge-masters in the City of Blades, this weapon was given to Ramona as a gift on the evening after her very first battle. Shell-shocked by the violence and drained from the adrenaline her father had summoned her to his tent and promptly presented the blade without a word. Exquisitely made the Wootz steel shine a dull blue in the flickering torchlight. Famed across the known world for it's durability and ability to hold an edge, there are few other weapons in the world that can compare to a Damascarene blade. This sword can pierce through most mail, shattering blades made of lesser material and gut even the largest man with contemptous ease. With a waiting list years long, due to the extremely complex and time consuming method of forging and re-forging, this one blade is worth more than a company of heavy cavalrymen.

Ramona does have a heater shield to use when she has to fight on foot.

Armor: Cavalry plate armor.

Personality: (Optional)

Background: Born the sole heir to the grand house of Vatatzes. Hers is a legacy of great generals of the Byzantine Empire. When the Latinkon peoples were still a tiny city state and struggling to defend themselves against their neighbors, a lowly mercenary captain by the name of Tiberius Vatatzes raised up a company of 1000 men and subdued the surrounding areas, providing the Latinkon with the respite they needed to grow and prosper.

Ever since then her ancestors have forever been enshrined in the history of the Empire as great generals, men and women possesing great tactical acumen. Almost singlehandedly the house of. Vatatzes reformed the Latinkon military from a rabble of levies and untrained nobles into a well disciplined, organized and well supplied fighting machine. Today when the Legions of the Byzantine Empire, the sound of thousands of boots hitting the ground in tandem sends shivers of both awe and fear through it's foes.

But the Vatatzes have made as many enemies as they have allies in their long and illustrious history, something that Ramona would learn at too high a price.

Accepted!

 

[Prayforthewickedeveryday]

Name: Lilith Macklebirth
Age: twenty-three
title: "Witch-Doctor"
sex: female
sexual orientation: Pansexual
Appearence~
Height: 4'9
Weight: 170 Lb
hair color: dark amber
hair length: long and wavy, usually kept in a braid over one of her shoulders
eye color: striking emerald green
build: she is small and petite, with small breasts and small hips. But she has athlete legs that help her move quickly to help the wounded.
Marital Status: Single (She plans to keep it that way!)
Armor: She wears a gold-tinted calvary armor that is extra strong and marks her as a Field-Aid.
Weapon: Her single weapon is a small two-hand aviator made out of rose-gold. It is razor-blade sharp nd made with the craftmanship only her beloved passed father could accomplish. The hilt is a dark reddish-purple and made to fit her small hands. She usually keeps it in a holster on her back and only uses it in emergencies.
Personality: Caring, sweet, funny, guarded about her past, over-protective of her belove battle-mates, quick, smart, skitish, shy
Background: MORE SHALL BE FOUND OUT IN ROLEPLAY!!
Hope this is acceptable!! This roleplay sounds SUPER fun!!

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Accepted!

Name: Lilith Macklebirth
Age: twenty-three
title: "Witch-Doctor"
sex: female
sexual orientation: Pansexual
Appearence~
Height: 4'9
Weight: 170 Lb
hair color: dark amber
hair length: long and wavy, usually kept in a braid over one of her shoulders
eye color: striking emerald green
build: she is small and petite, with small breasts and small hips. But she has athlete legs that help her move quickly to help the wounded.
Marital Status: Single (She plans to keep it that way!)
Armor: She wears a gold-tinted calvary armor that is extra strong and marks her as a Field-Aid.
Weapon: Her single weapon is a small two-hand aviator made out of rose-gold. It is razor-blade sharp nd made with the craftmanship only her beloved passed father could accomplish. The hilt is a dark reddish-purple and made to fit her small hands. She usually keeps it in a holster on her back and only uses it in emergencies.
Personality: Caring, sweet, funny, guarded about her past, over-protective of her belove battle-mates, quick, smart, skitish, shy
Background: MORE SHALL BE FOUND OUT IN ROLEPLAY!!
Hope this is acceptable!! This roleplay sounds SUPER fun!![/QUOTE
Accepted!

 

[Becker]

Bec De Corbin

Arming Sword

Rondel Dagger

Sallet & Bevor

Gambeson

Chainmail Shirt

Brigandine

Name: Krys de Windsor

Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: Hetrosexual - Chaste

Marital Status: Single

Title: 'Pious, Knight of Holy Creation'

Age: 24

Height: 5ft10"

Weight: 200 lbs.

Appearance:


Weapon(s):

• Bec de Corbin - Polearm, similar to the Warhammer & Halberd. The Bec de Corbin was used primarily with the 'beak' to attack instead of the hammer head. Better designed for tearing into thinner plate armor, chainmail or padded jacks.
• Arming Sword - One handed, double-edged weapon, whilst usually used with a shield; Krys' sword bears the Holy Creation's Cross upon the pommel, acting as a badge of authority during Crusades.
• Rondel Dagger - Utility tool & Useful for last-ditch jabbing. Typically used for puncturing through eye-slits or gaps between armour.

Armor:

• Sallet Helmet with moveable Visor & Bevor - hardened steel to protect the head and neck.
• Dark Blue Gambeson - Padded Jacket to absorb blunt force trauma.
• Short Sleeve Shirt of Mail - Chainmail to stop cuts and some piercing.
• Black Short Sleeve Brigandine - Layers of overlapping steel plates housed within a rigid leather & semi-padded breastplate.

Background: Krys is a devout Creationist and follows his teachings to the letter; although his blindness to reality has often been the source of conflict between himself and the Creationist Church. He had been but a child when he began his training as a knight, from a young age; he studied the 'Old book' and truely believed that defending Holy Creation was his purpose in life. At the time he was still too young to take part in the crusades to banish the heretics from the realm and instead was taken on by the local garrison to do more trivial tasks. Fetching water, assisting in the holy church with preperational tasks and generally not doing anything he was trained to do. Feeling frustrated at his role of little more than a servant, Krys was overjoyed when he finally came of age and was granted a knighthood in return for his devotion to Holy Creation. It was during his first Crusade that Krys began to realize that his faith wasn't as 'perfect' as he had been brought up to believe. He felt appalled as prisoners were killed where they surrendered, women were taken off by lesser men and never seen again. The screams and cries of the butchered peasants shook his soul to it's core, and then; his first battle approached. Several hundred Knights of Holy Creation and several hundred more hired mercenaries lined up to face the armed rabble of heretics and common-folk. It was as one-sided as you'd expect, the Knight Cavalry charged and the infantry carved up whatever was still breathing. It was not a true battle as he had been hearing as a child. There were no tales of brave chivalry to be told here, just a river of blood that flows amongst the dead.

A few years passed as more one-sided war were waged against the oppressed, Krys even stopped calling them heretics as it no-longer suited their enemy. 'Who are we fighting against?' He didn't even know, it was all a blur to him. Countless battles, countless un-needed massacres. Such evil took a toll on him, everything he had learn and praised as the 'righteousness of Holy Creation' was little more than a excuse to pillage and murder. Feeling disgusted, he turned away from the church and wondered aimlessly for weeks; he felt betrayed by those he looked up to. How they lied to him and the others. He knew now that Holy Creation picks no side, because neither side is worthy of such sancitity.

Feeling abandoned by his previous order, Krys joined the Brimstone Legion. Prehaps he will find purpose here? Prehaps his faith will wither and die and become little more than a emotionless entity; only seeing joy in coin than justice?

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

View attachment 446781
Bec De Corbin
View attachment 446782
Arming Sword
View attachment 446783
Rondel Dagger
View attachment 446793
Sallet & Bevor

View attachment 446785
Gambeson
View attachment 446787
Chainmail Shirt
View attachment 446786
Brigandine

Name: Krys de Windsor

Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: Hetrosexual - Chaste

Marital Status: Single

Title: 'Pious, Knight of Holy Creation'

Age: 24

Height: 5ft10"

Weight: 200 lbs.

Appearance:
View attachment 446796

Weapon(s):

• Bec de Corbin - Polearm, similar to the Warhammer & Halberd. The Bec de Corbin was used primarily with the 'beak' to attack instead of the hammer head. Better designed for tearing into thinner plate armor, chainmail or padded jacks.
• Arming Sword - One handed, double-edged weapon, whilst usually used with a shield; Krys' sword bears the Holy Creation's Cross upon the pommel, acting as a badge of authority during Crusades.
• Rondel Dagger - Utility tool & Useful for last-ditch jabbing. Typically used for puncturing through eye-slits or gaps between armour.

Armor:

• Sallet Helmet with moveable Visor & Bevor - hardened steel to protect the head and neck.
• Dark Blue Gambeson - Padded Jacket to absorb blunt force trauma.
• Short Sleeve Shirt of Mail - Chainmail to stop cuts and some piercing.
• Black Short Sleeve Brigandine - Layers of overlapping steel plates housed within a rigid leather & semi-padded breastplate.

Background: Krys is a devout Creationist and follows his teachings to the letter; although his blindness to reality has often been the source of conflict between himself and the Creationist Church. He had been but a child when he began his training as a knight, from a young age; he studied the 'Old book' and truely believed that defending Holy Creation was his purpose in life. At the time he was still too young to take part in the crusades to banish the heretics from the realm and instead was taken on by the local garrison to do more trivial tasks. Fetching water, assisting in the holy church with preperational tasks and generally not doing anything he was trained to do. Feeling frustrated at his role of little more than a servant, Krys was overjoyed when he finally came of age and was granted a knighthood in return for his devotion to Holy Creation. It was during his first Crusade that Krys began to realize that his faith wasn't as 'perfect' as he had been brought up to believe. He felt appalled as prisoners were killed where they surrendered, women were taken off by lesser men and never seen again. The screams and cries of the butchered peasants shook his soul to it's core, and then; his first battle approached. Several hundred Knights of Holy Creation and several hundred more hired mercenaries lined up to face the armed rabble of heretics and common-folk. It was as one-sided as you'd expect, the Knight Cavalry charged and the infantry carved up whatever was still breathing. It was not a true battle as he had been hearing as a child. There were no tales of brave chivalry to be told here, just a river of blood that flows amongst the dead.

A few years passed as more one-sided war were waged against the oppressed, Krys even stopped calling them heretics as it no-longer suited their enemy. 'Who are we fighting against?' He didn't even know, it was all a blur to him. Countless battles, countless un-needed massacres. Such evil took a toll on him, everything he had learn and praised as the 'righteousness of Holy Creation' was little more than a excuse to pillage and murder. Feeling disgusted, he turned away from the church and wondered aimlessly for weeks; he felt betrayed by those he looked up to. How they lied to him and the others. He knew now that Holy Creation picks no side, because neither side is worthy of such sancitity.

Feeling abandoned by his previous order, Krys joined the Brimstone Legion. Prehaps he will find purpose here? Prehaps his faith will wither and die and become little more than a emotionless entity; only seeing joy in coin than justice?

Accepted!

 

[Croaker]

"Oi, you! Yeah, I'm talking to you. Get over here and take a seat, friend, this ain't the place to be standing around looking like an oaf, you'll get the snot kicked out of you. Folks in here like to prey on lost pups, such as yourself, cut your throat just for lookin' at 'em wrong. Try not to think about it too much though. Ent no use worrying about death if you're sitting at my table. These ruffians know better. Heh.
"Any who, what brings you to a seedy joint like this, Stranger?...
"Hah! No shit? Charred souls of the dammed, you really are lost, ain't ya?...
"Well listen, ain't no use being alone on a night like this. Why don't you stay a few and share a drink with an old fool? Grog ain't the best here and the people ain't much to look at, but I'm a good conversationalist and I'll get you good and drunk."
Name:
"Well shit, did I really forget to introduce myself? My apologize, stranger, I'm Taliesin Mordred of the Brimstone Legion. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.
"Hahahaha! Boy did the blood drain from your face fast! Don't worry kiddo, the Brimstone Legion isn't a senseless pack of animals like everyone says we are... Well, we are animals. Savage animals, I suppose. Just ain't senseless... Point is, you got nothing to be afraid of, you follow? We're just two friends, havin' ourself a drink"
Sex:
"That's kind of a dumb question to ask, can't you tell just by looking at me? Or are you already too drunk to tell?
"I'm a man, my friend."
Sexual Orientation:
"Woah! You coming on to me or something, bud?
"Haha! Nah, I'm just teasing ya. I get it, you're curious, no need to get so flustered. If I had to put a label on it, I'd say I'm probably bisexual."
Marital Status:
"Oh? Getting into some rather personal questions now aren't we?
"Listen kiddo, I admire your bluntness, but that's sort of a sore subject for me, so if you don't mind I'm gonna take a hard pass on that one."
Title:
"You're right, most Brimstone Legionnaires have a title or moniker...
"Why? Good question. I'm not entirely sure. They just sort of take form sometimes, conjured out of the muck of the minds of those who fear you and those who revere you. Most legionnaires like to have some form of moniker, though. Suppose when you're killing it's nice to have some level of detachment from your own actions, if that makes any sense. When you got a title, it ain't, say, Perival who's slicing that man's flesh to ribbons anymore, but the 'Black Wolf of Byrne'. You see? Completely different person! Least, that's the lie that we all tell ourselves.
"Any who, you're damned right I got a tittle. I've had a few, actually. Depending on what part of the world you're from, you might have know me as 'The Ruination of Riggabon', 'The Devil of the Dunes', 'The Howler', 'The Crooked Hand of Havard the Grim' or even 'Jester'. Course, all those titles got their own stories, but ain't no use explaining them now. Those men are dead, and a dead man's tales ain't meant for the living.
"The man who is alive today is known now as both 'The Faceless Man' and 'The Standard-Bearer of The Brimstone Legion'. Granted, my comrades tend to have their own pejoratives they prefer. 'Drunkard', is pretty popular. 'Souse', 'Wino', 'Boozer' are also pretty common. Heh! As you can tell, my compatriots think highly of me."
Age:
"I've been alive for thirty-eight summers, each one of them just another day in hell. Ain't a day go by I don't think it'll be my last, yet here I am, sipping on Swamp-Water-Moonshine as the sun sets, talkin' with you."
Height:
"Hmm. Not sure. If I were to guess, I'd say about six-two. I'm pretty tall"
Weight:
"Uhm... I don't know. A lot? I'm pretty fit, if you couldn't tell. Lot of muscle. Check this out. See that? Pretty impressive right? That's what a lifetime of soldiering does to ya."
Appearance:

Spoiler

Weapon(s):
"Ah yes. I see my blade has caught your attention. Don't let the sheath fool you though, the weapon is really nothing special.
"I snatched the sheath from a dead soldier sometime ago. Thought it looked pretty at the time. The Scimitar inside was grabbed in a similar fashion, but it's been my companion for a handful of years now. I'll admit, pretty decent craftsmanship to last that long, I'll give the blade that. I ain't been gentle with 'er either.
"Other than the scimitar, I got a lance I use too. Not really my choice thought. Like my title says, I'm the standard bearer, so I gotta carry the lance with our pretty lil' flag on it."
Armor:
"My armor is the last relic from my time in an older legion, which I imagine is all but dead now. It's pretty standard plate armor, nothing I would consider special, just unique in shape, paired with cloth wrappings."
Personality:
"I'd say I'm a cynical asshole with a little too much drink in me. That good enough for you? I got a fondness for levity and skullduggery, which tends to get on most people's nerves and I've got a few problems with my head, but that's what the booze is for."
Background (Semi-Explicit):
"Erm... I'll be honest kid; I'm not really one to lament about the past. I've lived through some dark days and I prefer not to linger on thoughts like that...
"Oh, don't give me that look! Creation be damned, you're real persuasive, ain'tcha? Fine! You snake. Buy me a drink and I'll give you a little taste."

"Life as a young lad for ole Taliesin was mostly uneventful. See, when I was just a wee ankle bitter, I was living on a farm with my mom and pop, way down south of here. I was diggin' up potatoes and what have you out of the dirt, day in and day out, and it was good honest work. I was a hard working youngster, had my head on straight and all that. I was goin' places... Hmph. Let’s cut the fat. I'm sure you know where I'm headed with this, right? It's how all these sorts of stories start. Just a young nobody, suddenly struck with tragedy, giving said nobody the motivation to do great things and become somebody. That’s how these tales always go. Course, it ain't really like that. No, it's not at all how you would imagine it, ent like in the storybooks. In storybooks, it's a single man and his goons who kill your parents, a real villain sort and he does it for no other reason than because he's evil. In reality though, it's a whole damned legion of crusaders, ain't a single one of them no villain. After all, there are no self-proclaimed villains, only regiments of self-proclaimed saints. You live long enough and you'll learn the same thing, kiddo. Victorious historians rule where good or evil lies. We of the Brimstone Legion understand this well. We abjure labels. We fight for money and an indefinable pride. The politics, the ethics, the moralities, are irrelevant. Same with any sort of army you come across. So you see, it ent some evil man come to drink the blood of the innocent, just a bunch of kids scared shitless, taking orders from an older kid who's also scared shitless, 'cause if he don't do this right his God's gonna smite him.
"So, yeah. I lived myself a nice quiet life, and then an awful thing came and it tore all that away from me. Like I said though, ent like no fairytale. In fairytales, you don't got to watch all the people you grew up with be burned at the stake or have their throats slit. In fairytales, soldiers don't use you as a bench while they watch their buddies take turns with your mum and sister. Least, no fairytale I ever read, anyway.”

“After that day, I was made a ‘squire’ of sorts by the army that came and stomped through my hometown. Really, it was more slavery, but in time I was just as brainwashed as all those other guys, and by the time I was 17, I was in armor with them, swinging steel and choppin’ heads. I got pretty good at it too. It was a pretty big part of my life, but I’ll spare you all the details of every battle we fought in. Just know that I done enough bad to make me want to leave. Turns out though, I ain’t good for much more than killing and getting drunk, so to stay alive I joined the Black Knights. The rest is history, as they say.”

***
​

"Alright, stranger. It's gettin' kind of late. Thanks for the company. I'll help you to a less ruff n' tumble part of town, and we'll be on our separate ways from there. Shall we be off?"

 

[YumenoTsukishiro]

Name: "My name is Kawashima Ruriko."

Sex: “Woman, and proud of it.”

Sexual Orientation: “Despite everything, I like men.”

Marital Status: “My husband’s dead.”

Title: “Onryou”, “Barahime”

Age: “It is dishonorable to ask a woman her age. But I am 28 winters old.”

Height: “...Tall enough. Four feet and eleven inches.”

Weight: “No.”

Appearance:

Spoiler: This is me.

Weapon(s):

Spoiler: This is my blade

“My naginata has no name, for it is a part of me, an extension of my will. You could say that it’s the hand that reaches far where I cannot, to defend or to kill. Forged from the remnants of my husband’s katana, the blade is light and keen, slicing through leather with ease. I am not one for ornamentation, but I have carved a small rose petal near the base of the blade, to remind me of happier times.”

Armor:

Spoiler: The is my armor

“Some call it morbid, but the armor I wear is simply my husband’s armor rebuilt and refitted for my size. Despite everything, it is still sturdy enough for battle. More importantly, it bears the rose crest of my husband’s clan, one of the few things that remind me of our days together training in the naginata.”

Personality:

Spoiler: This is who I am.

“At day, I was a flower in paradise, bound within a caged garden, yet still full of gentleness, grace, and love. A flower has its thorns, and I tended to be more… brusque than what is appropriate. But all in all, I grew in love and kindness.

“At dusk, I faced the tragedy that plucked me out of that garden and into cruel reality. The world as I saw it shattered before my eyes. And in the throes of sorrow a spirit of vengeful anger entered into me, and never left.

“And now at night, I am glass hardened by fire. I am love tempered by fury. I am a hollow wanderer, searching for purpose.”

Background:

Spoiler: "This is my story."

“Once I was what Westerners call the ‘perfect woman’ -- yamato nadeshiko -- and it was all I ever lived for. It was all I knew. From childhood I was trained by my mother and the ladies of the house to become the impeccable wife, the greatest trophy every samurai yearned to display proudly in their arms. Cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, sweeping floors, massaging, caressing, giving pleasure, giving life; all the comforts a woman can provide, all in the service of her husband.

“I resented that life. Inside of me seethed a fire that burned with every practiced gesture and forced smile. I never thought I’d find freedom bound by the shackles of tradition and family. No, I did not find freedom at the side of my husband. But we loved each other like the moon caressing the still lake at night. I didn’t find freedom. I found happiness.

“He treated me like a rose blooming in the lushest of valleys. Night after night he watered my desires and inflamed my passions. Day after day he honored me with gifts, and saw fit to train me in the ways of the naginata. I passed many winters and summers with him, shackled by tradition, yet blissfully filled with contentment. I dreamt of passing the rest of my years with him, till death do us part. Of course, a reckoning was to come.

“His lord, the master he served under, commanded him to fight a battle he was sure to die. I begged him not to go. I pleaded to his honor as my husband, to preserve his life to preserve mine. Yet his honor as a samurai prevailed, for the qualities that drew me to him -- loyalty, courage, and heart -- would come and pull him away from me.

“A carriage returned after a fortnight, carrying with it my husband’s armor and blade, shattered to pieces and stained with blood. My own heart broke apart as I fell down on my knees, wracked in unimaginable sorrow. Already I felt the shackles dragging me further and further in a dark place. And fate was not finished with me yet. That night I was summoned to the lord’s mansion as was his custom for widows of his samurai. That night I learned of the truth behind my husband’s demise, as the lord pulled violently at my chains, ravaging the happiness I’d found on this world.

“That night I realized those shackles were there of my own making. And in my hand I held the key to freedom. Possessed by a spirit of vengeance burning within my hollow heart, I took the naginata from my belongings, and drove it straight to the lord’s chest. I felt small satisfaction at his gurgling struggle, but it was a drop in a wide abyss. His screams called the attention of his personal guard, who rushed into the room with swords drawn.

“Today I hear people whisper of the events that transpired that night. Of how the guards found a pale-skinned woman, splattered with blood, standing bathed in moonlight. Of how she fought as if possessed by a demon. Of how the entire mansion rallied to her cry of anguish and fury, rising against the corrupt lord and his minions. Of how she lost her eye as she pierced the last enemy with her naginata.

“Those stories may or may not be true, and eventually it won’t matter. Now I am a ronin, masterless samurai, bereft of happiness, but finally free of tradition’s shackles. I follow a trail of stories and rumors, of a knightly order where remnants like me hopefully find some semblance of purpose. May the spirit of my husband guide me.”

Rusty of Shackleford

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

"Oi, you! Yeah, I'm talking to you. Get over here and take a seat, friend, this ain't the place to be standing around looking like an oaf, you'll get the snot kicked out of you. Folks in here like to prey on lost pups, such as yourself, cut your throat just for lookin' at 'em wrong. Try not to think about it too much though. Ent no use worrying about death if you're sitting at my table. These ruffians know better. Heh.
"Any who, what brings you to a seedy joint like this, Stranger?...
"Hah! No shit? Charred souls of the dammed, you really are lost, ain't ya?...
"Well listen, ain't no use being alone on a night like this. Why don't you stay a few and share a drink with an old fool? Grog ain't the best here and the people ain't much to look at, but I'm a good conversationalist and I'll get you good and drunk."
Name:
"Well shit, did I really forget to introduce myself? My apologize, stranger, I'm Taliesin Mordred of the Brimstone Legion. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.
"Hahahaha! Boy did the blood drain from your face fast! Don't worry kiddo, the Brimstone Legion isn't a senseless pack of animals like everyone says we are... Well, we are animals. Savage animals, I suppose. Just ain't senseless... Point is, you got nothing to be afraid of, you follow? We're just two friends, havin' ourself a drink"
Sex:
"That's kind of a dumb question to ask, can't you tell just by looking at me? Or are you already too drunk to tell?
"I'm a man, my friend."
Sexual Orientation:
"Woah! You coming on to me or something, bud?
"Haha! Nah, I'm just teasing ya. I get it, you're curious, no need to get so flustered. If I had to put a label on it, I'd say I'm probably bisexual."
Marital Status:
"Oh? Getting into some rather personal questions now aren't we?
"Listen kiddo, I admire your bluntness, but that's sort of a sore subject for me, so if you don't mind I'm gonna take a hard pass on that one."
Title:
"You're right, most Brimstone Legionnaires have a title or moniker...
"Why? Good question. I'm not entirely sure. They just sort of take form sometimes, conjured out of the muck of the minds of those who fear you and those who revere you. Most legionnaires like to have some form of moniker, though. Suppose when you're killing it's nice to have some level of detachment from your own actions, if that makes any sense. When you got a title, it ain't, say, Perival who's slicing that man's flesh to ribbons anymore, but the 'Black Wolf of Byrne'. You see? Completely different person! Least, that's the lie that we all tell ourselves.
"Any who, you're damned right I got a tittle. I've had a few, actually. Depending on what part of the world you're from, you might have know me as 'The Ruination of Riggabon', 'The Devil of the Dunes', 'The Howler', 'The Crooked Hand of Havard the Grim' or even 'Jester'. Course, all those titles got their own stories, but ain't no use explaining them now. Those men are dead, and a dead man's tales ain't meant for the living.
"The man who is alive today is known now as both 'The Faceless Man' and 'The Standard-Bearer of The Brimstone Legion'. Granted, my comrades tend to have their own pejoratives they prefer. 'Drunkard', is pretty popular. 'Souse', 'Wino', 'Boozer' are also pretty common. Heh! As you can tell, my compatriots think highly of me."
Age:
"I've been alive for thirty-eight summers, each one of them just another day in hell. Ain't a day go by I don't think it'll be my last, yet here I am, sipping on Swamp-Water-Moonshine as the sun sets, talkin' with you."
Height:
"Hmm. Not sure. If I were to guess, I'd say about six-two. I'm pretty tall"
Weight:
"Uhm... I don't know. A lot? I'm pretty fit, if you couldn't tell. Lot of muscle. Check this out. See that? Pretty impressive right? That's what a lifetime of soldiering does to ya."
Appearance:

Spoiler

Weapon(s):
"Ah yes. I see my blade has caught your attention. Don't let the sheath fool you though, the weapon is really nothing special.
"I snatched the sheath from a dead soldier sometime ago. Thought it looked pretty at the time. The Scimitar inside was grabbed in a similar fashion, but it's been my companion for a handful of years now. I'll admit, pretty decent craftsmanship to last that long, I'll give the blade that. I ain't been gentle with 'er either.
"Other than the scimitar, I got a lance I use too. Not really my choice thought. Like my title says, I'm the standard bearer, so I gotta carry the lance with our pretty lil' flag on it."
Armor:
"My armor is the last relic from my time in an older legion, which I imagine is all but dead now. It's pretty standard plate armor, nothing I would consider special, just unique in shape, paired with cloth wrappings."
Personality:
"I'd say I'm a cynical asshole with a little too much drink in me. That good enough for you? I got a fondness for levity and skullduggery, which tends to get on most people's nerves and I've got a few problems with my head, but that's what the booze is for."
Background (Semi-Explicit):
"Erm... I'll be honest kid; I'm not really one to lament about the past. I've lived through some dark days and I prefer not to linger on thoughts like that...
"Oh, don't give me that look! Creation be damned, you're real persuasive, ain'tcha? Fine! You snake. Buy me a drink and I'll give you a little taste."

"Life as a young lad for ole Taliesin was mostly uneventful. See, when I was just a wee ankle bitter, I was living on a farm with my mom and pop, way down south of here. I was diggin' up potatoes and what have you out of the dirt, day in and day out, and it was good honest work. I was a hard working youngster, had my head on straight and all that. I was goin' places... Hmph. Let’s cut the fat. I'm sure you know where I'm headed with this, right? It's how all these sorts of stories start. Just a young nobody, suddenly struck with tragedy, giving said nobody the motivation to do great things and become somebody. That’s how these tales always go. Course, it ain't really like that. No, it's not at all how you would imagine it, ent like in the storybooks. In storybooks, it's a single man and his goons who kill your parents, a real villain sort and he does it for no other reason than because he's evil. In reality though, it's a whole damned legion of crusaders, ain't a single one of them no villain. After all, there are no self-proclaimed villains, only regiments of self-proclaimed saints. You live long enough and you'll learn the same thing, kiddo. Victorious historians rule where good or evil lies. We of the Brimstone Legion understand this well. We abjure labels. We fight for money and an indefinable pride. The politics, the ethics, the moralities, are irrelevant. Same with any sort of army you come across. So you see, it ent some evil man come to drink the blood of the innocent, just a bunch of kids scared shitless, taking orders from an older kid who's also scared shitless, 'cause if he don't do this right his God's gonna smite him.
"So, yeah. I lived myself a nice quiet life, and then an awful thing came and it tore all that away from me. Like I said though, ent like no fairytale. In fairytales, you don't got to watch all the people you grew up with be burned at the stake or have their throats slit. In fairytales, soldiers don't use you as a bench while they watch their buddies take turns with your mum and sister. Least, no fairytale I ever read, anyway.”

“After that day, I was made a ‘squire’ of sorts by the army that came and stomped through my hometown. Really, it was more slavery, but in time I was just as brainwashed as all those other guys, and by the time I was 17, I was in armor with them, swinging steel and choppin’ heads. I got pretty good at it too. It was a pretty big part of my life, but I’ll spare you all the details of every battle we fought in. Just know that I done enough bad to make me want to leave. Turns out though, I ain’t good for much more than killing and getting drunk, so to stay alive I joined the Black Knights. The rest is history, as they say.”

***
​

"Alright, stranger. It's gettin' kind of late. Thanks for the company. I'll help you to a less ruff n' tumble part of town, and we'll be on our separate ways from there. Shall we be off?"

Accepted! Great job, dude!

Name: "My name is Kawashima Ruriko."

Sex: “Woman, and proud of it.”

Sexual Orientation: “Despite everything, I like men.”

Marital Status: “My husband’s dead.”

Title: “Onryou”, “Barahime”

Age: “It is dishonorable to ask a woman her age. But I am 28 winters old.”

Height: “...Tall enough. Four feet and eleven inches.”

Weight: “No.”

Appearance:

Spoiler: This is me.

Weapon(s):

Spoiler: This is my blade

“My naginata has no name, for it is a part of me, an extension of my will. You could say that it’s the hand that reaches far where I cannot, to defend or to kill. Forged from the remnants of my husband’s katana, the blade is light and keen, slicing through leather with ease. I am not one for ornamentation, but I have carved a small rose petal near the base of the blade, to remind me of happier times.”

Armor:

Spoiler: The is my armor

“Some call it morbid, but the armor I wear is simply my husband’s armor rebuilt and refitted for my size. Despite everything, it is still sturdy enough for battle. More importantly, it bears the rose crest of my husband’s clan, one of the few things that remind me of our days together training in the naginata.”

Personality:

Spoiler: This is who I am.

“At day, I was a flower in paradise, bound within a caged garden, yet still full of gentleness, grace, and love. A flower has its thorns, and I tended to be more… brusque than what is appropriate. But all in all, I grew in love and kindness.

“At dusk, I faced the tragedy that plucked me out of that garden and into cruel reality. The world as I saw it shattered before my eyes. And in the throes of sorrow a spirit of vengeful anger entered into me, and never left.

“And now at night, I am glass hardened by fire. I am love tempered by fury. I am a hollow wanderer, searching for purpose.”

Background:

Spoiler: "This is my story."

“Once I was what Westerners call the ‘perfect woman’ -- yamato nadeshiko -- and it was all I ever lived for. It was all I knew. From childhood I was trained by my mother and the ladies of the house to become the impeccable wife, the greatest trophy every samurai yearned to display proudly in their arms. Cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, sweeping floors, massaging, caressing, giving pleasure, giving life; all the comforts a woman can provide, all in the service of her husband.

Spoiler: "This is my story."

“I resented that life. Inside of me seethed a fire that burned with every practiced gesture and forced smile. I never thought I’d find freedom bound by the shackles of tradition and family. No, I did not find freedom at the side of my husband. But we loved each other like the moon caressing the still lake at night. I didn’t find freedom. I found happiness.

“He treated me like a rose blooming in the lushest of valleys. Night after night he watered my desires and inflamed my passions. Day after day he honored me with gifts, and saw fit to train me in the ways of the naginata. I passed many winters and summers with him, shackled by tradition, yet blissfully filled with contentment. I dreamt of passing the rest of my years with him, till death do us part. Of course, a reckoning was to come.

“His lord, the master he served under, commanded him to fight a battle he was sure to die. I begged him not to go. I pleaded to his honor as my husband, to preserve his life to preserve mine. Yet his honor as a samurai prevailed, for the qualities that drew me to him -- loyalty, courage, and heart -- would come and pull him away from me.

“A carriage returned after a fortnight, carrying with it my husband’s armor and blade, shattered to pieces and stained with blood. My own heart broke apart as I fell down on my knees, wracked in unimaginable sorrow. Already I felt the shackles dragging me further and further in a dark place. And fate was not finished with me yet. That night I was summoned to the lord’s mansion as was his custom for widows of his samurai. That night I learned of the truth behind my husband’s demise, as the lord pulled violently at my chains, ravaging the happiness I’d found on this world.

“That night I realized those shackles were there of my own making. And in my hand I held the key to freedom. Possessed by a spirit of vengeance burning within my hollow heart, I took the naginata from my belongings, and drove it straight to the lord’s chest. I felt small satisfaction at his gurgling struggle, but it was a drop in a wide abyss. His screams called the attention of his personal guard, who rushed into the room with swords drawn.

“Today I hear people whisper of the events that transpired that night. Of how the guards found a pale-skinned woman, splattered with blood, standing bathed in moonlight. Of how she fought as if possessed by a demon. Of how the entire mansion rallied to her cry of anguish and fury, rising against the corrupt lord and his minions. Of how she lost her eye as she pierced the last enemy with her naginata.

“Those stories may or may not be true, and eventually it won’t matter. Now I am a ronin, masterless samurai, bereft of happiness, but finally free of tradition’s shackles. I follow a trail of stories and rumors, of a knightly order where remnants like me hopefully find some semblance of purpose. May the spirit of my husband guide me.”

Rusty of Shackleford

Accepted! Man, these sre some good characters!

 

[OSWonder]

Name
Kian Elliot Hannes

Titles
“Ghost of Rosewall” (No one really adds the “of Rosewall”, though. When they say it like it’s written in italics, there’s only one Ghost they could be talking about.)

“King Killer” (Few people connect this name to him. Those that do...well, there’s a pretty good chance they hate him.)

“Young Lord of Hannes” (Don’t call him that.)

“Heartless Son of a Bitch” (Pinned as such once by an angry girl who slapped him, hard, twice, in the middle of their training field. Now everyone calls him that, in many variations.)

Sex
Male

Sexual Orientation
Bisexual

Marital Status
Trying-Desperately-To-Avoid-It

Age
24

Height
6”0

Weight
179 lbs

Appearance
Kian is sharp. His face is constructed almost purely with hard lines, with an angled nose, narrow eyes and a jawline sharp enough to cut. His hair is long and dark, often left loose to frame his features, though he ties it up during training and battle. Although naturally fair, hours under the sun has turned his skin into a darker, tanned tone. He has, like practically every knight has, a fit and clearly trained body. Though not built like an ox, he is toned and tightly packed within his lean frame. Overall, he has a tall, dark and handsome sort of aesthetic that can be considered to be rather attractive, though that hardly matters anyway in the world that he lives in.

Weapons
Aces: A dagger set made out of black iron, an expensive metal exported from the North. It comprises of a series of seven blades, each engraved with rose vines, of varying lengths and curves, making it useful for both throwing and close combat. Due to the material and make of the daggers, they are extremely sharp and can slide through necks as easily as butter without a sound.

Justina: Twin bastard swords, crafted what he assumes is more years ago than his hypothetical grandparents can remember, and gifted to him by...an old friend. Both swords can be identified by the crest of the Noble House of Hannes. Kian is much worse at fighting with swords than daggers and, therefore, rarely uses them. He claims he only keeps them around as a huge [censored] you to his House but anyone who has seen him take care of the swords knows it runs deeper than that.

Dancer: A blue-tinted sabre that is only as pretty as it is because Kian never uses it. He sticks to his other weapons and uses Dancer as more a last-ditch effort than anything else.

Personality
Kian is a maze more than a list of words. He is full of twists and turns that don’t seem to add up but come together to form one complex, complete structure. Although the “complete” part is debatable.

He is an odd mixture of calm and playful, always relaxed and observing the scene, constantly making sarcastic remarks with such a poker face that it’s hard for strangers to tell he’s joking. It is rare for Kian to lose his composure and, when he does, he regains it quickly no matter the situation. Charming in a quiet, devious sort of way, he finds no problems in pulling people to him like a magnet. His silent but intense aura is rather beguiling, a trap of sorts, however, as Kian is about as serious about or committed to anything other than his work as a toddler is to a new toy.

Background
Kian Elliot Hannes, born Kian Luther, is the adopted son of the Lord Elliot Drew Hannes and Lady Margaret Verez-Hannes as well as the current heir to the Noble House of Hannes of the Empire. The son of an impoverished branch of the main Hannes family, he was one of three children adopted (bought, more like) by the then young Lord when his wife was found to be infertile. The other boy, Judas, was older and, therefore, heir while the last one to be adopted was a girl called Nina. He grew up as the middle child and younger son, allowing him to be rather free in what he chose to do as long as it had something to do with the military.

He chose to be a spy rather than an actual soldier, back then, because...he can’t remember, maybe because it sounded cooler. He was taught to fight, too, of course, but he focused more on the academic aspect as a kid and then, slowly, the delicate art of espionage as he grew older. His parents had no problem with his choice in career, at first. The Empire needed spies and he would get a technical rank and title, anyway. However, it soon became obvious that, even with his lesser training, he was a much better combatant than Judas. Their father wanted them to switch, for him to be the Knight.

Even then, there wasn’t too much of a problem. He was a little sour, sure, but he went with it. The problem only came when...when was it, he didn’t really know what it started, he blocked out a lot of memories from back then. He was around 15 when it started and...maybe, 19 when it ended, abruptly.

The problem only started when he fell in love.

With a boy.

Named Judas Hannes.

Yeah. [censored].

Long story short, his parents found out, decided he was more useful than their other son. Sent Judas away to Somewhere Far Away, on the road to which the boy died in “an accident”. Made him heir to the Lordship the very next day and threatened him with a horrible marriage for his sister if he refused to go with it. All the while acting like they were nice people and he was the bastard.

Kian is, as said before, a calm person. A very calm person who dragged his sister by the hand, stormed out of their house and hid from his so-called parents for an entire year until they pulled out the white flag. They needed him, in the end. He stayed until his sister was safely married and out of their hands before he left to become a combination of the two things he trained for: an assassin.

He was a damned good one, too. He killed a lot of powerful men, a few monarchs sprinkled here and there, made a lot of enemies without even showing his face and got himself a few dramatic titles. A couple years after that, however, he had to defer to the Brimstone Legion due to internal conflicts between the higher-ups. And that’s pretty much it.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Name
Kian Elliot Hannes


Titles
“Ghost of Rosewall” (No one really adds the “of Rosewall”, though. When they say it like it’s written in italics, there’s only one Ghost they could be talking about.)

“King Killer” (Few people connect this name to him. Those that do...well, there’s a pretty good chance they hate him.)

“Young Lord of Hannes” (Don’t call him that.)

“Heartless Son of a Bitch” (Pinned as such once by an angry girl who slapped him, hard, twice, in the middle of their training field. Now everyone calls him that, in many variations.)


Sex
Male

Sexual Orientation
Bisexual

Marital Status
Trying-Desperately-To-Avoid-It

Age
24

Height
6”0

Weight
179 lbs

Appearance
Kian is sharp. His face is constructed almost purely with hard lines, with an angled nose, narrow eyes and a jawline sharp enough to cut. His hair is long and dark, often left loose to frame his features, though he ties it up during training and battle. Although naturally fair, hours under the sun has turned his skin into a darker, tanned tone. He has, like practically every knight has, a fit and clearly trained body. Though not built like an ox, he is toned and tightly packed within his lean frame. Overall, he has a tall, dark and handsome sort of aesthetic that can be considered to be rather attractive, though that hardly matters anyway in the world that he lives in.

Weapons
Aces: A dagger set made out of black iron, an expensive metal exported from the North. It comprises of a series of seven blades, each engraved with rose vines, of varying lengths and curves, making it useful for both throwing and close combat. Due to the material and make of the daggers, they are extremely sharp and can slide through necks as easily as butter without a sound.

Justina: Twin bastard swords, crafted what he assumes is more years ago than his hypothetical grandparents can remember, and gifted to him by...an old friend. Both swords can be identified by the crest of the Noble House of Hannes. Kian is much worse at fighting with swords than daggers and, therefore, rarely uses them. He claims he only keeps them around as a huge [censored] you to his House but anyone who has seen him take care of the swords knows it runs deeper than that.

Dancer: A blue-tinted sabre that is only as pretty as it is because Kian never uses it. He sticks to his other weapons and uses Dancer as more a last-ditch effort than anything else.

Personality
Kian is a maze more than a list of words. He is full of twists and turns that don’t seem to add up but come together to form one complex, complete structure. Although the “complete” part is debatable.

He is an odd mixture of calm and playful, always relaxed and observing the scene, constantly making sarcastic remarks with such a poker face that it’s hard for strangers to tell he’s joking. It is rare for Kian to lose his composure and, when he does, he regains it quickly no matter the situation. Charming in a quiet, devious sort of way, he finds no problems in pulling people to him like a magnet. His silent but intense aura is rather beguiling, a trap of sorts, however, as Kian is about as serious about or committed to anything other than his work as a toddler is to a new toy.

Background
Kian Elliot Hannes, born Kian Luther, is the adopted son of the Lord Elliot Drew Hannes and Lady Margaret Verez-Hannes as well as the current heir to the Noble House of Hannes of the Empire. The son of an impoverished branch of the main Hannes family, he was one of three children adopted (bought, more like) by the then young Lord when his wife was found to be infertile. The other boy, Judas, was older and, therefore, heir while the last one to be adopted was a girl called Nina. He grew up as the middle child and younger son, allowing him to be rather free in what he chose to do as long as it had something to do with the military.

He chose to be a spy rather than an actual soldier, back then, because...he can’t remember, maybe because it sounded cooler. He was taught to fight, too, of course, but he focused more on the academic aspect as a kid and then, slowly, the delicate art of espionage as he grew older. His parents had no problem with his choice in career, at first. The Empire needed spies and he would get a technical rank and title, anyway. However, it soon became obvious that, even with his lesser training, he was a much better combatant than Judas. Their father wanted them to switch, for him to be the Knight.

Even then, there wasn’t too much of a problem. He was a little sour, sure, but he went with it. The problem only came when...when was it, he didn’t really know what it started, he blocked out a lot of memories from back then. He was around 15 when it started and...maybe, 19 when it ended, abruptly.

The problem only started when he fell in love.

With a boy.

Named Judas Hannes.

Yeah. [censored].

Long story short, his parents found out, decided he was more useful than their other son. Sent Judas away to Somewhere Far Away, on the road to which the boy died in “an accident”. Made him heir to the Lordship the very next day and threatened him with a horrible marriage for his sister is he refused to go with it. All the while acting like they were nice people and he was the bastard.

Kian is, as said before, a calm person. A very calm person who dragged his sister by the hand, stormed out of their house and hid from his so-called parents for an entire year until they pulled out the white flag. They needed him, in the end. He stayed until his sister was safely married and out of their hands before he left to become a combination of the two things he trained for: an assassin.

He was a damned good one, too. He killed a lot of powerful men, a few monarchs sprinkled here and there, made a lot of enemies without even showing his face and got himself a few dramatic titles. A couple years after that, however, he had to defer to the Brimstone Legion due to internal conflicts between the higher-ups. And that’s pretty much it.

Accepted!

 

[WaitingCynicism]

Name: Erik the Sailor

Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: homosexual

Marital Status: married

Title: none

Age: 22

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 200 lbs

Appearance:

Spoiler: Him and his husband John

Weapon(s):

Spoiler: An axe

(No massive swords that no one could possibly wield or other such impractical weapons. These have to be battle-proven weapons.)

Armor: A suit of chainmail

Personality: (Optional)

Background: (Optional)

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Name: Erik the Sailor

Sex: Male

Sexual Orientation: homosexual

Marital Status: married

Title: none

Age: 22

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 200 lbs

Appearance:

Spoiler: Him and his husband John

View attachment 447529

Weapon(s):

Spoiler: An axe

(No massive swords that no one could possibly wield or other such impractical weapons. These have to be battle-proven weapons.)

Armor: A suit of chainmail

Personality: (Optional)

Background: (Optional)

Accepted!