Fantasy The Monsters Among Men [CS]

[Redrobinwing]

A tall man sits before you. He's old, with a long grey beard and a balding head. His eyes appear tired, accentuated by the wrinkles lining many of his features. Still, he seems to be sharp, and he begins asking you questions with a voice that's surprisingly powerful despite his age.

Your name?

Your age?

Your height and weight?

Did you bring a portrait? Good, give it here.

The person before me seems...

The color of his/her eyes is...

The color of his/her skin...

The color of his/her hair is...

The quill is set aside, the scribe leans back. There is a shift in the air. A new line of questioning begins.

What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?

What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?

Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?

Give me a list of your equipment.

Do you own any beasts?

Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake.


“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for you if any further lines of inquiry arise.”

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I enjoy character sheets that are written as in the context of actually existing in the game world Feel free to format it however you want, you don't have to write it like that if you don't want to, just include all of the same information! A paragraph or so per section would be great, save for the 'Color of his/her eyes, skin, hair...'

 

[PiperKuro88]

She smiled sweetly as she answered the questions,
"My name is Skye Simmons, but I prefer to be called Simmons but then again I'm fine with Skye too!

I'm 18 years old though sometimes I act either older than that or a lot younger.

I don't technically know how tall I am but I'm about 120 Ibs (about).

I did bring a portrait," She handed him the photo of herself, smiling:

"I'm quite a happy girl though If aggravated I can be very tough and would never let a friend down. I have often gone to sit in the woods with my brother because deer and wolves, etc seem to come to us and it's very relaxing."

My eyes are a dark blue,

and I have soft but pale skin,

and I also have long black hair that I normally wear down.

The thing I guess that motivates me the most is trying to get good work and pay, and whatnot." She suddenly started playing with her hair nervously as this was a hard subject for her.

"I have always been told how smart and daring I am and occasionally how brave and strong too and I have no one that would miss me apart from my brother but I'm doing this for him.

My strengths are probably my family or friends though they can also be my weaknesses plus my fears of drowning and heights.

The dagger in my right boot, the knife hidden in my sleeve that appears if I will it too plus anything I can find around me.

I don't own a beast though Wolves tend to get near me without attacking and I always seem to be able to talk to them."

She flinched at memories when the next question came up but pushed passed it and answered, "Well, I had a normal childhood until when I was about 5 my parents, Elijah and Jewels, were killed and my best friend James was ripped from my grip, to be honest I never saw him again, even to this day. I wish I could just see my James or even just know if he is alive. Theo and I have been jumping around a lot trying to find a permanent home and I have raised my now 16 year old brother and we have grown quite close. I love him dearly I have no clue what I would do if I ever lost Theo. I'm doing this for him we need a place to stay and I think if I leave him with a neighbor or something he will last longer."

She smiled as she finished the questions and he said that then She got up and left with a polite bow.

 

[Slav]

Your name?
"It's Nishakrus, though you can just call me Nisha."
Your age?
"I'm 22."
Your height and weight?
"I'm 5'10 and 170 lbs."
Did you bring a portrait? Good, give it here.

Spoiler: Armor

Spoiler: Looks

The person before me seems...
Foreign and seems to have an arrogant air to him.
The color of his/her eyes is...
Blue
The color of his/her skin...
Doesn't have skin, instead has black fur
The color of his/her hair is...
Black
The quill is set aside, the scribe leans back. There is a shift in the air. A new line of questioning begins.

What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?
"I've been fighting evil my whole life, hopefully we can get rid of this evil."
What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?
"I consider myself a good swordsman and a extra sword can't hurt."
Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?
"My main strength is my swordsmanship, My main weakness is I don't listen to orders well.
Give me a list of your equipment.
"I have my Longsword, My armor, and essentials mainly."
Do you own any beasts?
"Nope, though some consider me one."
Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake.
" I grew up in a far away land, belonged to a Nomadic tribe called Gaia. My tribe was wiped out along with my family and few made it out. I was one of them. I then was found and brought over by smugglers. They thought they could use me as free labor. I escaped after a year of there torture. Me being a nomad, I traveled places helping people and providing an extra sword to whoever needed it. Now I'm here.'

 

[starfallen.txt]

"I am Yuelia. No... no last name. My kind doesn't use them.

I'm around 21, I think? Around that age, I'm pretty sure.

I think I'm around 5'0". Exactly 100 lbs."

She seems to be a half-dragon of some sort, although the only things that indicate that are her horns that look more like antlers, as well as the folded black wings on her back. When unfolded, the wings look like a starry night sky. From her features, she looks more suited to live underground than above.

The color of her eyes... are hard to describe. They seem to be pitch-black, with multi-colored specks floating around in them. Despite the weird appearance of her eyes, she seems to be able to see perfectly fine.

She looks extremely fair, as if the sun hadn't touched her skin in years. At least, that's when her skin is visible. Patches of her skin is covered with medium-sized red-green gems, and they seem to glow in the dark.

She has pitch-black hair, almost touching the ground. White specks dot her hair here and there. The specks twinkle in the dark as well.

(here's a close enough faceclaim, not exact though)

"I want to help. Even if I can only achieve the smallest, tiniest thing, I want to help. I also think this is going to be a good chance to see the land above, you know?

I have decent knowledge in fighting with a spear, but my talents lie in dancing and healing. Dancing may seem useless, but I've been able to get good money out of performing in public. I'm also pretty good at acting, if that will ever come up as useful in the future. Just in case.

I haven't been above the surface in years. I might not remember what the customs are like. I'm afraid of open spaces, and I might always be panicking a little bit, but I'm starting to get used to it. I'm not a very good fighter, even with my skills in using a spear.
As for my strengths, as stated before, I have experience in healing. I can also see well in the dark, and can hunt in the dark as well. I'm also skilled at distracting enemies.

I have my spear, a few pouches of stardust, some medical supplies, and money from performing on the streets. It's not much, but I can always get more.

No beasts, though it would be nice to have one. I don't think I'll be able to take good care of it, though.

I've always remembered living in an underground cave system with my full dragon family. My mother always told me that my father was a noble, but I've yet to find him. To be honest, I don't think I'll ever see him. I only came out of the cave about a year ago with my mother's permission, and have been living by myself ever since."

 

[Vampunk]

Sitting right in front of the aging man, her hand sliding underneath the reinforced combat jacket to massage her tense neck, a woman who had clearly seen her fair share of struggling in the world would prepare herself for the usual barrage of questions that came with such bureaucracy. But formalities were not just there to try driving away those who would join such ventures on nothing more than a whim, oh no, they were important as a basis to form a very unease trust between the ragtag band of faces, all with their own motivations to join this cause.

Leaning back into her chair, the woman would scratch the sides of her shaven head as the very first question would be asked.
Your name?

"Name's Mendia, Mendia Roarke." She'd answer bluntly, knowing that there would be many more questions to come that were far less simple than just a name.

Your age?

"Twenty-six"

Your height and weight?

"About 6 feet, six one at best."

Did you bring a portrait? Good, give it here.

The woman scoffs, raising a scarred eyebrow at the man as her gloved hand disappears in the insides of her jacket, retrieving a wanted poser that depicts her features...Just with long, luscious black locks of hair instead of the shaven scalp that now adorns her head.

The person before me seems...

The woman going by the name of Mendia Roarke seems to be very straight to the point and radiates an air of blunt efficiency, despite her unusual appearance, she does not seem to be brutish at all but talks in a firm voice and carries herself proudly.
Her eyes are ember in colour, matching the very healthy tones of her skin, what little remains of her hair is kept in a dark stubble that accents her hairline but seems to be kept that way for the sake of easier maintenance.



The quill is set aside, the scribe leans back. There is a shift in the air. A new line of questioning begins.

What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?

Mendia chuckles, crossing her arms in front of her chest and raising a scarred eyebrow.
"Someone has to be either brave, or stupid enough to join such a foolhardy undertaking. Might as well be those with the experience and will required to succeed, wouldn't you agree?"
Not even being allowed to gauge the man's reaction he'd continue his barrage of questions.

What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?

"I know a thing or two about these fiends and do believe lending my expertise to the cause would be quite invaluable. And I know how to keep myself alive...Can't guarantee the same for the rest of 'em though."

Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?

"I'm very resourceful and I do get the job done. I do not easily trust others though and I can be quite quick to act, considering the most efficient way first before even taking other options into account."

Give me a list of your equipment.

"Most of the things I own I always carry with me. A reinforced leather jacket, the matching leather attire to go with it. An array of knives and of course my most efficient tools for the trade. My sword and my repeating crossbow. Matched with whatever herbs and potions I can carry around at any given time."

Do you own any beasts?

"I do not."

Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake.

Mendia lets go of a deep sigh before raising her gaze again.
"That's what they all want to know. It's very simple, I assure you. I grew up on my family's farm before some of these beasts began terrorizing honest folk, my village included. Let's just say on thing leads to an other and a dozen years later you may find yourself making sure terrible things no longer happen to those incapable of defending themselves."

“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for you if any further lines of inquiry arise.”

 

[Redrobinwing]

Your name?

"Leon Strathemore."

Your age?
"Thirty-three, I think."

Your height and weight?

Leon thought for a moment on the question, trying to remember the last time he had weighed himself and measured his height. After a few moments, he came up with a response."Six feet one inch, about one hundred and seventy pounds."

Did you bring a portrait? Good, give it here.

The scribe set the portrait aside and began to write, curling the scroll over his leg as his eyes glanced up to Leon every now and then. It dawns on the warrior that he's writing a description of how he looks.


The person before me seems... tired and a little bored. It's obvious he doesn't want to be here, and I can't really blame him. He's obviously not a fan of the crown, and he's being forced to participate in something that he doesn't really care about. It's obvious that he'd rather be outside, probably hunting. Based on his smell though, he could very well prefer to be drinking. Still, it seems like he's in good shape, and if the stories of his family are true, I suspect he could easily handle himself in a fight.

The color of his/her eyes is... not merely grey, but silver. He's clearly human, unless he's some sort of half breed, but he's shown no other signs of oddity in his appearance. Perhaps it's a unique family trait, or some sort of cosmetic magic. His gaze betrays his boredom with this interview.

The color of his/her skin... neither pale nor particularly tan.

The color of his/her hair is... a moderate shade of brown, perhaps comparable to chocolate if one were to flatter him. He seems to prefer it at a medium length.

The quill is set aside, the scribe leans back. There is a shift in the air. A new line of questioning begins.

What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?
Leon leaned back slightly in his chair, staring at a wall as he listened to the question. A few moments passed of just silence, until small sigh managed to escape his lips. There was a look of annoyance in his eyes, unlike the boredom that he'd felt before, and it seemed targetted primarily at the question at hand. Eventually, he gave an answer. "I was forced by the King."

What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?
He nearly scoffed at the question. They knew why he was qualified, that's why they made him do it. He almost refused to answer just out of spite, but getting frustrated with a simple scribe wouldn't be worth it. Wasn't his fault, it was his job. "My family has hunted these monsters for generations. I know more about them than anyone else on this expedition." There was more to it than that, but he didn't care enough to give a longer answer. He stayed silent when the scribe waited for any more information.

Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?
It almost seemed as if he'd asked the question as a roundabout way of getting a better answer out of him. "Knowledge on the beasts, good in a fight." It took Leon a moment to think of some weaknesses; it wasn't something he talked about often. "Erm, I might have a bit of trouble working with people." That was all he'd allow himself to say. He avoided mentioning his drinking problem and his general distrust of anything related to monsters.

Give me a list of your equipment.
Leon looked to his bag, trying to remember everything inside. "A shortsword, an axe, a chain-sickle, and the clothes on my back." It was all family heirlooms, really. Lightweight stuff, made carrying it around easier. He had a few books too, but those probably weren't worth mentioning.

Do you own any beasts?
"A dog." Gege was waiting outside the castle walls, apparently with the other animals. A small smirk came to the hunter's face as he imagined his companion scaring the King's animals.

Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake.
The question he'd been dreading. Again, there was a long few moments of silence as Leon considered whether or not to even give an answer. The King knew of his past, there was no reason to ask the question. Still, he wanted this to be over, and arguing would only prolong it. "I'm Leon Strathemore, of House Strathemore. My family has hunted monsters for generations, or at least they used to." His words were tinged with a hint of passive-aggression, and although the scribe took the blunt of it, it was targeted at the people he worked for. "We were considered obsolete when Vlad was defeated over two hundred years ago. Everything was taken from us of that. I'm the last of my line." It was mostly the truth; they still had a small castle in the northern parts of the country, but it had long been abandoned.

“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for you if any further lines of inquiry arise.”

With that, Leon picked up his bag and headed out the door, giving a disinterested wave towards the scribe as he walked out the door.

 

[Redrobinwing]

PiperKuro88 Slav starfallen.txt Vampunk
All accepted! Sorry for taking a bit to accept everyone, been a busy few days. I'll get a IC thread up tomorrow so that we can start

 

[Slav]

Can't wait to get started

 

[Nano]

basics.
name // vimirias (vim)
age // 114
height // 5’7” (170cm)
weight // 137lbs (62kg)
eyes // purple
skin // pale
hair // black
portrait // [x] [x]

appearance.
“He” is the favored tag by those grasping for a pronoun, for “he” appears predominantly male, though certain features such as a softer jawline grant a semi-androgynous impression. However, neither speculations are right nor wrong, rather to use human standards can only result in flawed judgement. After all, the Aldena are a genderless race, and even their true ages are a headache to decipher.

In retrospect, Vim’s ever callous smile gives them an impish air, nontypical of one hailing from an ancient race. However, there is a certain sharpness to their gaze, betraying the long years that they have witnessed.

Their right eye is a pale amethyst, the color of magic as according to his race. The other is hidden under the dark fringe left to trail down the left side of their visage. If one looked closely, they could see that a strangely shaped eyepatch peeks out from where their left eye should be. Detracting from the odd coverage is the inconvenient length of their hair, though it is admirable in its quality, as the neat, low ponytail resembles a rivulet of black silk.


personality.
People expect more from someone who’s seen several decades go by, but when it comes down to it, Vim is still considered young by their race’s standards. They come and go upon a whim and stop only for whatever catches their eye. Incidentally, their presence may not even be appreciated for long. What starts as a soothing breeze can quickly stir up into a raging tempest, because restraint is obviously not one of their strong points. If it’s “interesting” enough, they’ll do anything. And they mean anything. Being unpredictable seems to be a specialty of theirs.

However, their most memorable trait is not their crazy antics but rather their verbal habit (or is it a preference?). “I always speak the truth,” they claim, yet with their tendency to speak in opposites, every sentence is guaranteed to be a lie. A simple “yes” or “no” is easy enough to decipher, but when they start launching sentence after sentence, even his closest associates can’t help but wonder how Vim manages to keep track of every line they invert.

Those who manage to gauge a personality behind that tangle of phrases may perhaps figure that their manner of speaking may be an extreme form of sarcasm. As willful as Vim might be, childish isn’t quite the perfect word for them. Not when a certain nonchalance suggests that they may simple just not care enough for rules and formalities...


motivation.
Vim’s motivation is simple: it would be a lonely world without humans. Their race’s history may state that a band of humans once invaded their camp and attempted to harvest their eyes, but that’s an event from even before Tepes’ last uprising. For all Vim cares, that’s water under the bridge. Though humans live short lives, their willingness to cooperate bring about innovation, and it would be a sad, sad day when the world becomes devoid of that.


necessity.
They may not have been around when the Count first waged war on mankind, but they certainly still have a trick or two up their sleeve. They didn’t sit around doing absolutely nothing for an entire century.


strengths and weaknesses.
At least on a rudimentary level, Vim was fairly diligent in his study of magic (in order to abuse it for domestic chores), with the element of fire being their favorite. Still, they’re far from an archmage, and their results in swordsmanship are mediocre at best. To compensate, when it comes to causing an explosion, their knowledge is, without a doubt, first rate. They consider it a work of art, even bringing into existence what they refer to as a “fire flower” (aka fireworks), and consider it much more effective than the large-scale spells which take so long to cast. Of lesser interest though of equal skill is the rest of their alchemical skill, capable of creating salves to expedite healing (but that’s boring) to corrosive substances that can hinder the advance of even a demon.

Vim also possesses the Eye of Lucidity which allows them to see the future, particularly if the event has to do with incoming danger. Unfortunately, the damage sustained to their left eye during a certain incident was unable to heal properly, making it require a fair amount of rest in-between uses. That said, their eye’s foresight is currently limited to a few seconds into the future and does not account for the events which occur in between that time span or right after. It is also not very useful for gauging “what if” scenarios.


equipment.
> fireproof coat and gloves
> small knife
> vials of various concoctions
> some raw materials


beasts.
None.


race.
The Aldena are an elusive race, residing in fairly secluded areas such as dense forests and mountainous regions. Few venture from their birthplaces, making encounters with one exceedingly infrequent. However, it is those rare encounters which have made the race as famous as it is mysterious.

An Aldena is best identified by the trademark purple coloration of their eyes which sets them apart (physically) from the humans they resemble. That is, however, a lesser known fact compared to what their eyes are capable of. Each Aldena is gifted with a unique “magic eye” (usually their left), which grants them the ability to “see” certain things such as a person’s true intentions or their life span. Unfortunately, this along with the fact that an Aldena’s lifespan is dependent on their magical capacity has spawned the belief that their eyes hold the key to longevity, leading to the poaching of their already dwindling numbers.

Note: According to Vim, the Aldena withhold the naming of a newly formed Aldena until their “eye is revealed.” This was apparently to emphasize the importance of one’s magic eye by naming the child based on the type they had.


history.
The Aldena are formed and not born. Their lack of gender was a clear indicator of that. Yet even without bonds of flesh and blood, they longed for those to call their family and friends. A “clan,” they’d call it, and naturally with a clan came a leader and their successors.

Seldom was it that an Aldena was raised in the seat of the clan leader’s successor. Vim, however, received that role from the onset of their naming ceremony. Having been discovered to possess a high magical aptitude as well as the Eye of Lucidity, they were bestowed with the name “Vimirias” after their clan’s founder who had shared the same traits. But the person in question had other plans.

Their petulance began with simple pranks which then escalated to speaking only in lies and opposites and eventual excursions outside of their home hidden away from other races, yet the pressure persisted. It wasn’t until Vim severely injured their left eye during one of their “hunts” that the clan elders finally dispelled their expectations of Vim. On one hand, the incident crippled his abilities as an Aldena. On the other, it left them free to do as they wish, thus taking it as an opportunity to venture away from their birthplace.

The next few decades were fairly uneventful, with Vim’s journeys focused on their newfound interest in alchemy and pyrotechnics. They had accidentally made a name for themselves as in the east a few decades ago, but perhaps that was for the better, for it was that very rumor that had managed to catch the current human King’s attention. The messenger sent to fetch Vim seemed to have had quite the difficult time handling their infamous verbal habit, however.

 

[Brynna]

She stares at the old man, and comes to the conclusion that if one's cynicism were reflected by the amount of wrinkles on one's face, she'd likely look older than him. She meets his piercing gaze with a calculated one of her own; legs crossed, leaning back comfortably, hands settled in her lap. When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is commanding and powerful. If she were anyone else- a common criminal, a petty thief- she may have begun to shrivel back from intimidation. But she is a bit more than that, and thus she simply blinks, sharp and analytical, back at him.

"Your name?"
"Zelai Lethtaereth." She watches as his quill glides expertly across the parchment, slowly as to not make a careless mistake. Without any windows, the sound of each scratch of the pen bounces around the small room. The walls feel too close, and she takes a moment to remind herself that the door behind her wasn't locked. Under typical circumstances she could leave on simply a whim. She wishes he'd write faster.

"Your age?"
"27."

"Your height and weight?"
"5'9". 138 pounds."

"Did you bring a portrait?"
He finally spares her a glance, only to see the portrait sat neatly before him, just within arms reach. His gaze darts up to her, and had it not been for her likeness on the table, he wouldn't have even realized that she had moved. This unnerves him just slightly, and though he tries no to show it, Zelai notices right away. He clears his throat. "Ah. Good." She watches him closely as he begins to pen her description into his notes, happy to focus on something other than the possibility of being stuck in this room for eternity.

The person before me seems phlegmatic and mature even beyond her present years. She'd come off generally indifferent to everything if it weren't for the focused, analytical, almost curious look in her eyes. There is a cunning, astute air about her. I've noticed that she's looked around the room a couple of times, as if gauging her surroundings is second nature. Then she looks at me as if she can read me simply by the lines of my face.

The color of her eyes is chestnut brown. They appear bright against her dark hair and skin.

The color of her skin is a dark umber.

The color of her hair is black.

With one last look over his work, the quill is set aside and the scribe leans back. There is a shift in the air. Zelai's ears perk as the guard down the hall shifts in his stance, armor clinking. He's quite a few steps away, and to the old man, all is quiet. A new line of questioning begins.

"What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?"
The corner of her lips turn down just so. If it were up to her, she would be long gone; far, far away from this madness. "I've literally no other choice," she replies simply. He watches her for a long moment, waiting for her to elaborate. She holds his gaze steady, but remains quiet. When he finally opens his mouth, she sees more curiosity in his gaze than there would be if he were following his script. She cut him off quickly, in no mood to delve. "The king sought my employer out himself, did he not? Who would we be to deny His Majesty?" This seems to sate him enough to move on. Good.

"What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?"
"I am a spy, essentially. I'm proficient at hand-to-hand combat, and infiltration is my specialty. If we need to take someone out quietly, or find out the layout of a destination without detection, I'm the person to do it. Not every situation will call for brash violence, I'm sure. I also know a variety of languages, some alchemy, and can read people quite well."

"Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?"
In any other situation, she'd laugh at the question. Why the hell would she give such information willingly, to anyone, at any point? Though she figures that this is likely going to be her last fight, so what's the harm in sharing now? She'll either be dead by the end of this or live long enough to disappear without a trace afterwards. She takes a moment to think about her answer with an expression that betrays none of her amusement.
She's skilled with daggers, but not much else. Fighting someone who uses ranged weapons is no good unless she can get the drop on them. She likes to think herself clever and adaptable. She's quick and light on her feet, despite her height, but she's not very strong and doesn't take damage well at all. She doesn't trust anyone and is quite withdrawn because, obviously, why would anyone be interested in anything but their own gain? So up until the near future she'll have only ever worked alone. She's exceptionally level headed and calm, though she has heard others describe it as callus...
She ultimately refuses to answer him, and when the scribe protests, she leans in and traps him in an unsettling stare. "You know, in my line of work, the less people know about me the better. People who do have intimate knowledge of my strengths and weaknesses always turn up dead." The scribe seizes up and glares, not missing the threat in her words. Zelai leans back with an air of finality. "Move on. I'm sure the king will understand." He finds he actively doesn't want to be here any longer, so he continues.

"Give me a list of your equipment."
"Two daggers, some lock picks, a piton, my armor."

"Do you own any beasts?"
"None."

"Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake."
"I've been in this business for far too long- over half my life. Before this, I was nothing more than the daughter of a poor seamstress." The scribe doesn't make any effort to press her for more, and she's happy he's gotten the point. He places his forms down neatly, and she notices that he seems more relaxed now that he knows she's leaving.

“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for your employer if any further lines of inquiry arise.”
"Don't bother," she says, standing gracefully and turning to leave, "you won't find me. But I'll return when it is time." Her steps are nearly silent as she exits.

 

[Redrobinwing]

Brynna Accepted!

Nano Accepted

Slav Vampunk PiperKuro88 starfallen.txt

IC thread is up! The Monsters Among Men

 

[Feifei]

Your name?
"My name is Odetta, but just Odette is fine."

Your age?
"Twenty? No wait, I think I'm twenty-three. I'm not too sure, I stopped counting after awhile..."

Your height and weight?
"My height and weight? Last time I checked...4'9 and 101lbs."

Did you bring a portrait? Good, give it here.
"Oh yes, I thought maybe you might need one so I brought this with me."

What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?
"I was looking for a way out of the house, to go outside again like before. The letter from King Alexander arrived for me and I took that opportunity to finally be out of the house again."

What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?
"Well, magic is the essential thing for us. So I have been practicing magic ever since I could remember. I'm specialised in both the art of healing and fire. Oh! I almost forgot, my memory is what you would call a photographic memory. Remembering every information, picture, and situation in great details."

Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?
"My strengths? It's magic, definitely! I guess my memory could count too. I learnt about herbs and poison for a period of time, but I wouldn't say that I'm an expert in it. As for weaknesses, confine space frightens me. Also, my physical combat is not the best."

Give me a list of your equipment.
"Um...well...I only have this dagger with me and in this bag here is my drawing book, some writing equipment and my very own creation of medicine."

Do you own any beasts?
"No, I don't think I'll be able to take care of any beasts."

Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake.
"As you can see, I'm a faerie," She took off her cloak to show her transparent wings,"and so is the rest of my family. This kind of business, my family has been in it for generations. It was always competitive in the family, especially for my older siblings. We trained together, but embark on different missions. My older twin brothers were the first to enter into this business. I followed them only a few months later then my younger sister joined me. I guess I must have done something right to get recognised by King Alexander."


“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for you if any further lines of inquiry arise.”

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[Redrobinwing]

Feifei Accepted

 

[Rage]

As the elderly man speaks forward, a large and massive humanoid being walked forward whilst still being clocked under a huge clocked that worn similar to hood by multiple chains and ropes which the room itself shook for 2 steps before that the being took until he was right infront of the aged man....it's body shook violently under the clock that caused it's foot to stomp the chair with so much force which it had exploded from the impact as shards and splinters of wood were sent flying upward and at the being but it didn't move a single inch as the sound of wood bounce off something under the clocked could be heard.

The being towered over the man and completely dwarfed him in size and stature even the desk's width itself and this head seemed to be inches away from hitting the ceiling which forced the large being to hunch over slightly as it awaited a respond.
Your name?
"..."
"..."
"....."
A gigantic hand reached from out of the clock and moved to the wooden desk before the large being which the entity's razor-like nails clawed into the desk that appeared as a name.
"GORK"
The name was crudely scratched into the wood by the sharpened nails of the mysterious being and it's desk creaked and groaned with the little force the creature seemed to put down onto the desk. The name held masculism features in it so the being before the aged man could be seen as a man...or monster.
Your age?
The large hands of "Gork" reached forward once again before it proceed to clawed down something beside his name.
400 Years
"Gork" was old but it's body seemed so...powerful that it was a strange and mysterious creature. A rarity in these parts but it's unknown as to what or who this "Gork" might be.
Your height and weight?
Just underneath "Gork" as in what he had placed down for his name, he proceed to put down just how big this colossal figure might be.

Height - 12 Feet
Weight - A Boulder & A Half (1,789 Lbs)

A massive and hefty being was "Gork" and he seemed to a creature of war from some far off or unknown land which the crown hadn't conquered or even seen.
Did you bring a portrait? Good, give it here.
Reaching in darkness which was the clock of "Gork" that he had pulled out a large piece of paper that seemed to be a capture or slayer wanted poster for adventurers or mercanires for mythical or violent creatures not wanted to still being living in these lands but it was aged...roughly it could be about...2 centuries old by the wear of the paper and the fading ink but the picture held true perfectly.

Despite the crude and bleak picture. It was a strange and unnatural creature but there are differences between the picture and "Gork." He seemed to stand straight upward and his lower body was just as massive as his lower whilst the forelimbs seemed to appear more like mankind's hands instead of strange claws or hooves in a way that it looked on the poster. The lights in the room could let the old man see the face of "Gork" but clock showed that it wasn't human-like underneath.
It also held a name underneath
Skrímsli
The person before me seems... an abomination upon the world which was a serious question as how or why such a creature would even being in these lands but it was't some wild beast or animal in need of killing but a creature built more than hunting or fighting off rivals... This... "Gork" was a creature built for battle and the strange glow that came from the hood could be seen at where this being's eyes might be but this creature seeks something....strange...

The color of his/her eyes is... seemed to be white and nothing else based on the glow that bounced from the candle's lit on the desk to it's face whenever it shifted about.

The color of his/her skin... a greyish green or rotting gray based on how his hands seemed to be.

The color of his/her hair is... an aged and weathered gray based upon the specs of hair that poked out of the clock's top as it was worn horrible.

The quill is set aside, the scribe leans back. There is a shift in the air. A new line of questioning begins.

What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?
"..."
"Death."
That was the only respond given to the scribe for that question and no prod from him seemed to give out more words.
What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?
"..."
".Beast Of War."
"...Victory For Ones on Gork's Side..."
"....Eaten By Gork Whoever Fights Gork...."
Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?

"Gork" move the clock so his arm could be fully visible to the scribe as he proceed to flex the limb which colossal and heavily scarred limb arm seemed to have quadruple in size as many muscles bugled upward as well veins and unearthly items under the skin bugled which symbolized not only immense strength but toughness as well but this was followed by him saying.

"Gork Not Man. Gork Monster. Man Hate Monster. Gork Fight. Gork Win. King Hunt. Gork Leaves This Place. Go Back. Die."

Very...Interesting but this could be taken as "Gork" wouldn't be accepted by many people even if he helps for he is a monster and monsters are always hunted down but the true question is what does Gork mean by leave? To Go Back? To Die? But those were the answers to what he had spoken and he didn't speak anymore on that fact.

Give me a list of your equipment.

The strange being move it's around to point at the clock which was just about it that would mean that was just about it.

Do you own any beasts?

Using the arm that was still in the open which "Gork" then pointed at himself....That was understandable.

Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake.

"Gork From Far Away. Magick Took Gork Here. Gork Ate One Who Brought 'im. Gork Wandered....For Long Time. Had Children With Dragons, Trolls, Giants & Orcs. Children Are Strong Like Gork. They Fight Gork. Gork Beat But Not Eat. Gork Want To Fight Again With Children. Years After. Man saw Gork. Wanted To Fight Gork. Man Weak. Gork Eat. Man Come Back With More And More Men. Caught Gork. Gork Left. Gork Ate Man Who Caught man. Wander... Gork...Here."

That was....one of the strangest...and weirdest as well as bizarre stories that the Scribe could've ever heard. Like some stupid fairytale about some monstrous hero from a distance land was summon here by ancient mages for conquest only to turn on them and proceed to go adventuring.

“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for you if any further lines of inquiry arise.”

​

 

[Redrobinwing]

Rage Accepted, just be sure to make all of the guards extremely weary when they see Gork coming It's gonna be fun fighting monsters with a monster XD

 

[Rage]

Of Course, it will Laddie!​

 

[myst.erion]

When Ita entered the small room, her nose turned up, and her elfish shaped ears turned ever so slightly towards the back of her head. Her nose was going crazy, picking up all sorts of scents, both male and female. For a moment she thought she smelt another werewolf but that was quickly pushed aside. Plenty of humans had been in here, one in particular caught her interest. A fairy. Something she had never smelt, and something foul. Bearable, but foul. She was already on edge before she entered the room, but its smallish nature just made it worse. If this were really some sort of sick trap, she had little means of escape. There weren't even any windows. Ita let her rucksack fall from her shoulder and held it from its strap, hopeful she could let the weight sit on the floorboards. She eyed the figure in the center of the room, and studied him closely as she searched for somewhere to sit.
~
A tall man sat before her. - He's old, with a long grey beard and a balding head. His eyes appear tired, accentuated by the wrinkles lining many of his features. - Still, he seems to be sharp, and before she knows it, he begins asking her questions with a voice that's surprisingly powerful despite his age.
~
Ita turned towards him and held up her gloved hands with a quick noise to hush him. "Hold on!" Her eyes made there way to the floor. "What's that?" He followed her gaze to the shattered chair on the floor and she swore she heard him sigh. "I'm not going to ask...." A moment passed where she still tried to decipher the mess she was looking at. "No. I am. I cannot be the worst thing you've met in this room. right? Was he big? I'll bet he-" The sudden smack of a chair in front of her scared her enough to release a snarl at the air and bare her teeth. Her head whipped to the man sitting behind his desk, then to the new chair, then to him. How on earth he did that, she had no idea. Certainly, this man was no ordinary old bald hobo. He meant business. Though, she probably should have already realised that if he was employed by the King. After shutting her mouth and slitting her eyes at the man almost playfully, Ita took her seat, surprised at how comfortable the chair was. All that was left was to get her feet up.

"Name."
"My name is Ita. Just that. I've lost my right to my families name, so don't bother asking.....," she answered nonchalantly, as if her statement didn't imply she had done a horrible thing. It was Brunnhilde. But he didn't need to know that. Her head turned as she looked around the room curiously, still a little wary despite the cool and collected demeanor that currently radiated off of her. It was that, if she displayed her anxiousness, this man, whoever it was, would have something else over her. He'd already scared the wits out of her. So, "smart ass" was gonna do her just fine.

"And your age?"
"Uuuhhhh........25..." She stressed the number, and leaned further back in her chair, before looking off to the side. He didn't continue, and Ita noticed when he cleared his throat. Shite. "Really? I'm wounded. Truly." With a huff she gave in. "Okay, okay. technically I'm 29 human years. I've been alive for 60. Happy?" No answer.

"Your height and weight?"
"Well, that depends. Do you want my current weight or how much I weigh when i'm hungry?" More silence from the two plagued the air. The man just kept her eyes on him. Honestly, she reckoned he looked as unimpressed as she did when she first walked in here. Another attempt to break the man, proved to fail, so she answered in the most monotone voice she could muster. "I weigh 61 kilograms and I am 170 centimetres tall. I must grow at least a metre or two higher when I transform.....Speaking of-."

"Did you bring a portrait?"
"Oh yes, just as was requested, though, i implore you, ignore my expression." Ita ignored him cutting her off. They were getting along. This was great.
"Good, give it here."

She could tell the man had no interest in her banter as he studied the fine art and scribbled some notes on his parchment. What on earth could he be writing?
"The artist i hired was sweating from every available fold. Can you blame him?," she laughed, bringing an armored hand up to her chin, below her pearly whites and large canines, to tap it fondly. The man didn't answer her. "Anyways- Oh, but if only I was richer."
~
The person before me seem's....
~
"I wish he'd not ignored my ears, don't you?" She brought her hands up to her short hair and pulled the deep brown locks back to reveal the pointed ears, otherwise unnoticed when they were hidden behind her fluffy hair. "People always automatically assume I'm some sort of deformed elf when they see them, that is, until I growl at them," she chuckled menacingly to herself. "And then tear their head off....." She trailed off with a fond look in her eyes towards the wall.
~
Quick. She's quick. Certainly not as bothered as myself. Or is she....it's hard to tell. The smile on her olive toned face and her animated expressions - backed by her strong brows - imply she is in a content place, but the tone that comes through in some of her words and the way her nose keep twitching says otherwise. She's good at hiding her emotions I'll give her that. And I say that only because the speed at which she talks cannot possibly be nerves. She doesn't stumble, or regret anything she says, she she keeps her dark chestnut eyes on me when she talks. Is she deranged? The way she talks so easily about the more macabre things in life interests me greatly. Perhaps, she does have a sort of peace with those sorts of things. It is morbid, and unsettling, but I wouldn't question her about it. She may be no match for me, but something tells me she wouldn't take it lightly. At least, not the third time around.
~
Ita let's her messy hair fall forward again and snaps back to attention in the old man's direction, once again studying his face. "Say, do you think I could check my reflection in your head?" She made a jab at his baldness with a small chuckle. "I'm afraid there may still be meat in my teeth." She smirked. "I'm joking." She let one moment pass. "Oh, and don't forget to note that beneath these," she lifted her metal clad hands up, and showed off her sharp 'fingers'. "It's a hell of a lot uglier." The gauntlets made a scarping noise as they sat back in her lap.
~
Her lightheartedness and constant teasing is already getting on my nerves. She must understand it is infuriating. It must be exactly what she wants. I can only imagine how she presents herself towards others. Is she always like this? A smart mouthed woman far too immature for her age. Or is she a chameleon? Forver changing, forever moving. A nomad. I suppose, it does make sense. Being a werewolf afterall, especially one who has lost the claim to their family name, I would not be surprised. Ita is hiding something. I can tell. Be that an emotion, and idea or an impression, something is missing in her head. I don't intend to find out why. But someone will.
Despite all this; her perfect posture, her taught jaw, three noticeable scars running down her right cheek, the intensity of her eyes, the incredibly sharp gauntlets she wears and the charisma that radiates off of her suggests Ita is a fine citizen. She is a lone wolf quite capable of holding her own and nothing unlike the many hunters and warriors I've already met. She could give herself wholely to this cause.

"Did you know, where I'm from, Ita means 'thirst'; A thirst for good~ Imagine that...." Slyly as possible, she began to raise her legs on to his desk, and gave a satisfied nod when they crossed over each other and she started to move down in her seat. Her eyes caught sigh of messy scratches in his desk that spelled out 'Gork' among other things, and squinted at it, when old man spoke.

"I implore you. Feet off the table." The old man didn't even look up.
Ita raised her brow, "Feet of the table," she repeated; while doing as he asked. She was surprised to find the man capable of more than just asking boring questions, sitting in sullen silence and throwing chairs. And- "Hey~! You sly fox you~."

The quill is set aside, the scribe leans back.
Finally, he knows how to relax.
There is a shift in the air. A new line of questioning begins.
Ita can tell the questions are about to get a mile more serious than his previous ones, so, she straightens her posture again, and crosses her legs a little tighter. Her lips purse into a smirk as she waits for his first new inquiry.
Just as he thought.

"What motivates you to want to embark on this mission?"
Ita is quick to answer. There is a new edge to her voice that the old man easily places as anger. Even her eyes grow darker. If that is even at all possible. "I despise them. The evil that the Count has once again unleashed on our land is unnatural." She stops herself. "At least more than myself.......Those demonic bloodsuckers do not deserve to live. Not that they are, but I'm sure you know what I mean. Tepes will rot in hell, again, for what he has unleashed on this world. And for what he has done to my people....." She peered at the old man curiously, who breathed the tiniest sigh. "I mean, I assume that's why the King requested myself and others. What else could it be? He doesn't need new jester's does he? I'm not opposed to that." Ita began scraping two fingers against each other, and a light spark came up before she stopped. "That. And the money is good. Who else said money? Plus, do you really think I'm going to risk refusing the king? I would, in a heartbeat, rest assured. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Getting paid to kill my worst enemies? I'm there."

"What makes you necessary for the success of this venture?"
"Honestly? Besides my yearning to gut Tepes and all his armies, my ability to transform into a bloodthirsty monster whenever the moon is high and the gauntlets around my hands.....?" Ita hesitated a moment before continuing, her face considerate. "A lot more. Should I go on? I could be here all day. Let's stay here all day I love your company." She broke into a lighter tone and tried not to laugh. She shook her head at herself as she calmed herself down again and regained her composure. "My apologies...hmm... It's just....if I weren't necessary for this, I don't think the king would have asked me to meet with you...don't you think?."
The old man considered this for a moment, before continuing. She was smarter than she made herself out to be.

"Your strengths and weaknesses, what are they?"
Ita was caught off guard. Though, she considered the question for a moment. "My strengths; My wit easily. You see it don't you? My physical strength is great now and even greater once transformed. My claws, they're sharp and deadly, and my sight and hearing are just, uncanny. I have a great agility and endurance. Surely you know how werewolves age much slower. So, I feel I have great experience. And an upper hand against adversaries you might think me naive." She breathed in again. "But my nose. My nose has never been matched. Not by anyone - werewolf or otherwise - that I have ever known. And I hope that you'll see my eagerness as a strength of mine. It might make me stubborn I know, but no-one achieves anything without confidence in themselves to do so."
"My weaknesses; Unlike most assume, silver has no effect on me or my kin. It's a silly rumour that started when someone burnt there hand on a scalding silver piece left in the sun too long.....It's really...." Ita eyed the old man again, unsure if she should reveal it to him. If he were well informed he would already know, and he seemed well informed, so with a sigh and a shake of her head she continued. "Wolfsbane could kill me if i was exposed to enough of it. The same can be said for Mistletoe. It won't kill me, not really, but it is extremely dangerous. Both have the ability to get me into a frenzy. And Mountain Ash is also a threat. Areas bordered by the ash I am unable to enter. For whatever reason it has always been the same. I've never seen anyone get passed it and if I did I'd beg them to teach me."
"Last but not least, I suppose la Luna is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. The moon." Her tone changed. This was probably the most serious she had been since she sat down. "I'm sure you don't want to be here forever so I'll keep it as simple as I can. You can fill in the rest."
"I can control my change in moon days. Its not painful but nevertheless uncomfortable. I am strong. No moon means no change, no motivation, a lot of sulking. Not my fault. Full Moons however, I am at my strongest. But the change is uncontrollable, and nothing can stop my screams....... Most nights I can control myself, but la luna is always changing......you never know what you're gonna get."

"Give me a list of your equipment."
Ita looked down at the rucksack on the floor in a moment of thought. "Well, besides my gauntlets, I carry my Nine Herbs; a couple of silver throwing knives; I might have some more vials filled with something the vendor said wasn't cheap; I keep a belt in there I can't be bothered wearing unless really necessary but it holds my knives, and I guess it could carry a sword. Thing is, I don't have much. All I really need is these." She held her hands up once again. "I'm a close quarters kind of girl. I'm more likely to jump from person to person than cower with a bow up a tree....."

"Do you own any beasts?"
"Yes, I do. If you don't count me as one of them, I own a mare. Her name is Esmerelda. Esme is unlike any horse you've ever met. Provided you will." She pulled a second drawing from within her rucksack and placed it on the table before the old man, who studied it for a couple moments.

Spoiler

"Though I doubt that very much."
He almost expected her to continue to elaborate on her steed, but for the first time so far she declined to reveal anymore.


"Can you give me a quick description of your past? Just for records' sake."
Reluctantly, Ita leaned forward with a sigh. "Right. That. In all honesty I really don't want to. But...." She sat back in her seat to talk. "I was born plenty a distance from here to the Alpha male and female of a pack I will not name. As I grew they slowly and surely began readying me to lead my own pack one day........it didn't last. I've never really had the most trustworthy friends....Long story short, I endangered my pack, attacked others, caused deaths- I'm not gonna give specifics. 10 years ago I ended up on my own and turned to thievery, scamming, etcetera....Before I knew it I had my own equipment, I stole E-..." She smiled at her little mess up, but went on anyways. "I procured a steed, and built a reputation that got me bounty contracts. It's all I've been doing to survive and all I will continue to do. Till I die." Ita raised an eyebrow at the man when he didn't speak for a couple moments. "Are we done here?"
His head snapped up and Ita could have sworn he looked pleased.

“Thank you for your time. We will be sure to send for you if any further lines of inquiry arise.”

Ita bit her lip with a noise of satisfaction. Finally, they were done. She may have just eaten but her appetite was working up again. As it always did with the amount she had to consume. "Thank you." She stood, and hauled her rucksack onto her back with a sincere expression. "I look forward to hearing from you again. I'm sure I will." With a nod and the tip of an invisible hat, Ita turned on her heel and made her way out the door. "I can't miss out on meeting your good friend, Gork."​