The Fall of an Empire

[vRH]

Character Sheet Template


Name:


Age:


Race:


Class:


Skills/Abilities:


Equipment: (State everything your character is equipped with.)


Appearance: (A picture will suffice, but a paragraph of description is required.)


Bio:

 

[vRH]

Character Sheet


Name: Grimwald Therwood


Age: 47


Race: Human


Class: Summoner


Skills/Abilities: As a summoner, Grimwald is able to conjure any of his allies, teleporting them to his side. This, though, requires his entire focus. This also can only summon one ally. But he relies most on his speech, to convince and persuade his audience. However, when things go for the worse, he can call upon Moerg, the dragoon.


Moerg is a set of black steel armor given life. He has no flesh, only the metal pieces that build him together. Standing at a whopping 7'0, Moerg is a fearsome creature. Despite being made of pure metal, Moerg speed matches that of an archer's and strength that of a warrior's. Equipped with a lance, made of the metal like his armor, he strikes down his foes as he follows Grimwald's every command.


Equipment: Grimwald does not use a staff, nor does he use a wand. He simply does gestures of his hands and chant out invocations to cast his spells. His only needed item is his green cloak, and set of clothes.


Appearance: Standing at a height of 5'11, Grimwald looks like the average mage. He wears a simple green cloak, and a hood that hides most of his face. His eyes glow of a purple color, showing his prowess in the field of magic. Though his true appearance is unknown to many, he has a cropped black hair, and has a overwhelming gaze. <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_04/image.jpg.b8ac5427a79396fdaf1de166c9ad2646.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="50810" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_04/image.jpg.b8ac5427a79396fdaf1de166c9ad2646.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Bio: Born in Orwinvath, this man was never expected to be great. He was just a mere average person. He was usually ignored, and given the least priority. However, it was not soon that his talent for magic bloomed. He topped all examinations, he easily casted and memorized spells of many books. He had become the opposite of what he was - famous and privileged. He lived in comfort. But now, the very army of Gothmog threatens this. Setting out to search for brave heroes to stand against his empire, Grimwald waits at the Lost City.


(Yes, I know this is of low quality. I have ran out of juice, I am sorry.)

 

[Broadway]

Name: Olivia Mavros


Age: 19


Race: Human


Class: Summoner


Skills/Abilities: Able to summon Orias, A huge dog like creature that has been in her family for hundreds of years.

Equipment: (State everything your character is equipped with.): Orias' whistle usually hangs around her neck as it is the magical item that summons the beast. When going into battle, Olivia straps a bag of the creature's favorite treats to her left hip, and small dagger (Just in case something goes wrong, which doesn't happen often), is strapped to the other hip.


Appearance:

Olivia is a small human, only standing about 5'4", and weighing not much more than a feather. She is built thin and pasty pale, and despite her resting annoyed face, she looks quite harmless. Her hair is a sort of milk chocolate color, chopped short (long hair is too hard to maintain), and thick. Her eyes are a lighter shade of brown, and depending on the light, can shine golden. Olivia usually settles for anything black when it comes to clothing, wanting to wear what is most comfortable rather than what is considered fashionable. Fashion is the least of her worry, really.


Bio:


Olivia lived half of her life as a military brat. Both her mother and father served the king, working as hard as they could to make sure that their lives were as comfortable and as safe as possible. The girl didn't mind; she had a warm home, a warm bed, warm food to fill her belly every night, and though her parents hardly spent time at home, she knew they both loved her.


This all changed, however, when the war began. The small village that her family had been from originally was burned within days of the first declaration by the King himself. Feeling betrayed, they packed up all of their belongings and escaped to the countryside where they were thrust into a life poverty. And there they stayed; hungry, angry, and in hiding, afraid that they could be recognized at any moment. That is, until word started circling the name "Grimwald" and his growing army. Eager to finally be back in the hands of a good army, Olivia was sent to the Lost City, whistle in hand, and ready to take on the King.

 

[vRH]

Accepted.

 

[Zoletres]

Name: Thran Burkland


Age: 25


Race: Human


Class: Scout


Skills/Abilities: With a well rounded set of skills, Thran is able to stay far way or be up close and personal, while being hidden the whole time. He can shoot an arrow with precise accuracy. His stealth and speed has gotten hired on many occasions.


Equipment: Lock pick, two daggers, bow and arrows, armor, and cloak


Appearance: Coming in at about normal male height, Thran is 5'9, good enough to blend in with any group of people. Not wanting to have his identity determined, most of the time he wears a full face helm and hood. Under his disguise, Thran has light brown hair and brown eyes.<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_04/ranger_by_josheiten-d540ujm.png.dee9fb88d65d4cc0ee60de7b88da61e4.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="50811" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_04/ranger_by_josheiten-d540ujm.png.dee9fb88d65d4cc0ee60de7b88da61e4.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Bio: Thran was born and raised in Valpool, which even to this day he still calls home. As he grew up, his skill and knowledge outclassed his peers, Thran could excel in anything. His skills gained notice of everyone around him, which caused some discomfort. He preferred being solo, which caused him to hide from the world and develop his stealth skills. Thran now sets out for more adventure.

 

[Te al Latte]

Name: Hellia Wrainsworth


Age: 25 years young in looks (124 years old in age)


Race: A daughter of the elven race


Class: Scout


Skills/Abilities: Close-ranged teleportation. It's not that she's really able to teleport, it's just that her best attribute, an overwhelming speed, makes you think she can. This ability of hers is useful in close combat because just a few hit from her enemies can send her down.


Combination of fencing and graceful dancing. Coming from a non-violent, art-centered, family, the only way of combat she was allowed to learn is fencing. And with the combination of the ballet lessons she got as a small elf, she has made her own elegant way of harming (not killing).


Equipment: 'Mortifero' A sword with the name bearing harmful or deadly. It was her grandfather's sword when their family's males were still part of the royal army. During the uprising of the war, she stole it away from her family's sacred room. Under her clothes, at least 3 more daggers are hidden that she uses when push comes to shove.


Appearance: A maiden of frail limbs and fair skin, Hellia never ceases to amaze both men and women alike even with her 5'2 height. Short, platinum-white, blond hair that enhances her small face tops her petite posture. She has a jade pair of eyes and her signature elf ear revealed at her left side. She wears clothes that are easy to move in with an addition to her trust scarf that she relies on on cold weathers. She wears heels to improve her height to a few inches (4 inches)

Bio: Coming from a rich household of elves that excelled in architecture and performing arts, Hellia was to become a proper ballet dancer and a wife to another governing elf family. But because of her tomboyish nature and lack of interest in guys, she rather put herself in combat training with her grandfather and denied the invitation of marriage for hundreds of time. She was in love with combat even though her parents and her petite body didn't agree.


When the war broke out and the conqueror threatened her family's land, her grandfather decided to go to the front lines. Days and weeks passed, he didn't return. With a grieving yet hopeful heart, she escapes from their manor and steals her grandfather's sword, then starts her journey in search of her the signs that her grandfather is still alive and in search of the adventure her heart screams for.


As she journeys by herself, she hones her skill as a fighter and makes a name for herself. When she hears and invitation to gather the strongest fighters to fight against the conquering emperor, she quickly makes her journey to the Lost City, hoping to find her grandfather and prove herself worthy to hold his sword.


(I hope this is okay)

 

[vRH]

@Zoletres, accepted.


@Te al Latte, accepted.


Two more and we can start.

 

[Gospeller]

Name:

Gudbrand Allen

Age:

28

Race:

Halfling (Human/Dwarf)

Class:

Soldier

Skills/Abilities:

Despite his lack of magical understanding, Gudbrand is absolutely devastating in close-quarter combat. His two-handed claymore is wielded skillfully and viciously, sometimes with just a single hand. He is capable of a series of complex and destructive moves, as well as having basic field-medic knowledge. Gudbrand generally relies on fierce force and brutality, as well as his incredible sustain to get through fights, despite his relative slowness.

Groundtear: though hard to accomplish, with some help or proper location, Gudbrand can fall to the ground with his blade in hand. The flat side of the blade then slaps the ground beneath him, causing dust and debris to be kicked up into the eyes of foes and allies alike (without proper headgear). This accompanied by the thundering sound usually causes mass confusion and temporary loss of sight. If Gudbrand lands directly on any 'normal' human opponent, they are usually decimated.

Chains of Horn: with a handful of chains tied together appropriately, Gudbrand can throw it towards a target like a net, or whip it towards them (with a limited chance of success) to have it wrap around a body part, armor or weapon. He can then drag them in or sling them around, depending on their size and mettle.

Adrenaline Burst: for a short time (two to three moves maximum), Gudbrand gains incredible speed into his attacks and movement. Whilst this usually tires him out quite quickly afterwards, it makes him into a terrifying force capable to stay in speed with a ranger for up to ten seconds.

Field-Medic: Gudbrand can apply basic first-aid help to any of his allies. Grievous wounds can not be healed, but prevented from being lethal until a certain time has extended. Minor wounds can be healed completely.

Equipment:

The large man is dressed head to toe in heavy plate that has great sustainability against melee attacks, but makes him incredibly susceptible to magic involving heating or freezing. He wield a large two-handed claymore, as well as a forearm-sized knife in case of emergencies. Strapped to his belt are usually an assortment of bandages and healing-aid that can be easily torn or broken in the heat of combat, but provides him with certain first-aid capabilities.

The armor is a 'classic' of the Clayhelms and may be recognized by the few individuals that have meddled with them or seen their recruiters ride into villages.

Appearance:

Gudbrand is a huge man. With a height of almost two meters and an incredibly wide frame, he had bestowed upon him the genetics that would set the foundation of his later massiveness. Due to his heritage, he was also gifted a rather large amount of natural muscle mass which he developed as he aged. Luckily, he was not given the shortness of a dwarf. Underneath the armor, he is a broad man with a slight amount of natural scars that come with his profession. His face always wears light stubble, and his head is shaven bald. Gudbrand is dark skinned. The most iconic feature of the man is most probably his tendency to always have his lips slightly curled upwards, as if giving the slightest smile. This sense of friendliness emits from him like an aura, making him seem very approachable whenever his helmet is off.

​

Spoiler

This was the closest I could find to what I had in mind. Heavier but shorter stubble plus brown eyes and you've got my guy -... ish.

Bio:

As a young man, Gudbrand was recruited by the Clayhelms (or as they were more casually known as, the 'Horns') at a relative young age. They would usually sent missionaries out to look at prospects in nearby villages, before taking them with them, promises of great power rolling off their tongue and into the ears of the young. Training was harsh, and socializing was left to null, as Gudbrand continued perfecting the art of the Clayhelm. Most of his life was wrapped in training, strict discipline and minimal interaction with the outside. Whilst still only in the lower ranks of the Clayhelms, Gudbrand was a force to be reckoned with. When the war broke out, the Clayhelms boarded themselves away from the world, hoping to simply 'sit out' the war and, perhaps when the time was right, pledge allegiance to whoever came out on top. But this clashed with Gudbrand's ideals. Wearing the Clayhelm Iron-Siege armor given to those that step over the line of 'recruit' and recognized by the few who have heard or encountered the organization, Gudbrand set out to find his own solution to things, and perhaps, one day, uphold the glory the sword that the other Clayhelms would not.

 

[korigon]

Name: Al'Dar 'Dashar' Riotan


Age: Late twenties, early thirties.


Race: Human.


Class: Warrior


Skills/Abilities: Completely immune to pain and crowd control, knows everyones name and history, also is the strongest warrior ever.


Nah.


One of Dashar's best attributes is his strength. Don't get me wrong, he's far rom the stereotypical tough-but-stupid thug, but being able to handle a greatsword ( Zweihänder ) is no east feat. On top of being a skilled combatant, Dashar possess an usual ability. When in the thick of the battle,


sometime turns off inside. It is strange that a man would desire bloodshed, and increasingly strange that a man would ache for the clashing of steel, but Dashar does. Think of it as a blood rage, or a constant adrenaline rush while in battle.


If you believe this is a bit too powerful, I'm find editing it out. In a world of magic and wizards, it doesn't seem to fair to have your staple warrior just be a hulking brute with nothing unique. I'm also gonna shirk off from actual "abilities" since I'm not sure if we're supposed to do that or just list our characters strengths.


Equipment: In terms of weapons, Dashar uses a German greatsword, often called a Zweihänder. Besides that, he wears a a light set of armor ( Not pictured in appearence ) and a well-used shoulder guard. Finally, he possesses an awesome beard.


Appearance:

Standing at 6'3 and weighing 240 lbs makes Dashar a very bulky figure. His eyes are a piercing blue, and his face is rigid and expressionless. His hair is quite long for a man, going a little past his shoudlers. It's a cream-blonde color, and matches his well-tanned skin. In terms of personality, Al'dar is a quiet figure that is easy to ignore. Despite his height and commanding presence, he prefers to simply stay close to whoever leads the party, acting as a guardian in case of trouble. Furthermore, he has a deep respect for those who manage to earn his trust, and regardless of stories, is capable of love.


While in battle, Al'Dar is completely absorbed into combat. He becomes a ruthless soldier, willing to defeat his opponent at whatever cost. He is


always at the vanguard, always willing to lead the charge. As stated earlier, something turns off when Darshar enters combat. Instead of a peaceful


giant, he becomes something similiar to a killing machine, dispatching his targets with grace and ease. It's not exactly graceful to cut someone in half with a greatsword, so give him some credit.


Bio:


BLOOD


WAR


THE PAIN


I NEED IT


--


He was born on a summer afternoon. The priest had already visited, the gifts had been given, and there the baby sat in his plush cradle.


His name was Al'Dar, meaning 'Strength of his father' in some lost language. From the beginning, he resembled his father. Davem Riotan was the village blacksmith, a large, generous man. He was on his way to become a merchant guard when his heart was taken by a pretty village girl. It was a shame, really. He could have been so much more.


Well, that's a whole different story.


Baby Al'Dar, or as his parents called him, 'Dashar', was an inexpressive child growing up. Granted, he would smile fondly and blow kisses, but he never actually displayed affection when other visitors came to see him. This trait would continue throughout all his life. Those he trusted were rewarded with his faith, but only until they had proven themselves.


Growing up with other children wasn't easy for Dashar. His parents found two unusual traits in him. The first was expected, being stubbornness. The Riotan family had always had a stubborn streak, but he had it more than anyone else. He refused to be intimidated by the other children, and was always ready for a fight, despite them being stronger and older than he was. In fact, he seemed to want to fight. Even the local toughs stayed clear of him.


As he progressed through the teenage years of life, the longing for a fight seemed to increase. Dashar became unnaturally aggressive, striking at even a small insult. His parents were astounded- Al'dar was always extremely obedient and polite at home. This habit finally grew worse until the breaking point.


He was nineteen when it happened. His mother had been returning home after a shop at the market on a wintry January night, and his father was 'Working late' at the blacksmith, fulfilling a large order by a company of soldiers outside the village. Al'dar arrived at their house to find the door open, and upon further investigation, a man standing over his mother. The man had tried to say something about the stairs, but to Dashar, it was all too clear.


Looking back on it now, he might have acted impulsively. What he did know, however, was that on that bleak night, he fled his home with his chill in his bones. When his father returned home, he found his wife unconscious, right beside the mutilated body of a soldier.


( yeah that sounds REALLY CLICHE!! I'M SO UNORIGINAL )


Al'dar vanished that day. Some said he joined up with the company of soldiers outside the village. He was spotted throughout the country, an expressionless young adult who held the blade like it was part of him. Wherever he learned his skills, he had become a deadly fighter.


( C O P O U T )


Now with the offer of joining with a company of 'Heroes' to wage war, Dashar readily accepted. With his skill and effectiveness in the thick of bloodshed, he is a force to be reckoned with.


Yarr.

 

[vRH]

Both accepted. I'll start the IC later.

 

[vRH]

Sorry for the delay, I had a blackout yesterday. Anyways, you can now post in the IC.

 

[Nazghoul]

Name: Aradryan


Age: 93


Race: Elf


Class: Necromancer


Skills/Abilities: A marksman of considerable ability, he usually works with ranged weapons, his favourite being a pair of foot long knives. He does have a longbow, which is strung around his shoulder/waist, but it is not used as much as the knives. He is also adept at poisons and degenerative substances.


Equipment: A pair of knives, a longbow, and a curved sword, which isn't used very much, as he prefers to use stealth an range to kill.


Appearance: he wears a black cloak and hood, which hides his features from people who may recognise him, and also hides his blood red eyes, a clear sign that he doesn't stand for good, rather, he is content to sit on the sidelines. His weapons are hidden beneath his cloak, and so are his hands, his flesh being pale, almost white, again showing him to side with chaos.


Bio: he used to be a ranger, hence his marksmanship, before he had a near death experience, which might have killed him, had he not wanted to live so badly. He stayed alive, but his marksmanship declines slightly, and he found himself to be taking on more...deathly qualities.

 

[vRH]

Skills/Abilities: A marksman of considerable ability, he usually works with ranged weapons, his favourite being a pair of foot long knives. He does have a longbow, which is strung around his shoulder/waist, but it is not used as much as the knives. He is also adept at poisons and degenerative substances.
Equipment: A pair of knives, a longbow, and a curved sword, which isn't used very much, as he prefers to use stealth an range to kill.

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