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Found 248 results

  1. Name: Jaw finder Epithet: none Age: N/A likes: devouring meat. preferably legally Alignment: true neutral Race: abnormal Lizardfolk Apearance: Jaw Finder is a large lizard with a frame resembling a mammalian ambush predator but with reptilian features, this includes a scaly hide and a serpent like head with way more retractile fangs than you would expect Height: 6'1" Weight: 200 lbs Gender: Reptile Skin Color: black with cyan frills, can camouflage Skin Texture: hard and scaly, Voice: very monotone and hoarse, but can also make hissing sounds and high pitched chirps Eyes: round and yellow, can glow slightly, visible in the dark Build: structured more feline than reptilian, compact musculature, can stand both bipedal and quadrupedal, hunches over when bipedal. Features : 3' non prehensile tail long sharp retractile claws on both and teeth that can regrow if lost flexible joints, can contort body in fluid ways capable of sticking to surfaces with hands and feet Abilities: sorry if all over the place slow regeneration, can recover completely from serious injuries over a matter of days or even hours, can be speed up by eating enhanced senses, dark vision, can taste smells and can sense supernatural phenomena expert tracker expert stealth, especially in dark environments and given Jaw finder's size can change color to better blend into environments ironclad stomach, can eat most meat raw and suffer no adverse effects, can climb non slippery surfaces with no difficulty can move and evade at high speeds, can do this with contorting body to weave in and around people natural swimmer and can hold breath for several hours teeth and claws have hardness rivaling steel can bite with tremendous force Jaw finder's tongue is spiny, can extend upwards of 5ft, can strike with the force of a whip, and is prehensile, able to support upwards of 20 lb fast reactions improved leaping ability natural armor from scales Magic: yes this lizard can magic enchanted focus, jaw finder can enchant their ability to see and focus on an enemy, focusing in on how to strike them better and to better predict attacks, jaw finder can focus further too improve these effects zephyr strike, jaw finder manipulates the air around them giving them a controllable slipstream of currents, this slipstream protects jaw finder from airborne particles , improving their turning ability and speed, letting them strike harder and then better avoid retaliation, this effect remains as long as jaw finder maintains focus and can be enhanced repeatedly. jaw finder can end this magic also by creating a massive torrent of air in a circle centered on jaw finder with power and size relative to how much the slipstream had been built up. Personality: Jaw Finder does not think with a mammal mind set, they live to eat good meat and will generally help people on quests or journeys so that they can kill and eat legally, as otherwise there isn't many ways to eat humanoids. Jaw finder doesn't get why soft bodies are so against cannibalism, but will respect this way of life and only eat things that are 'evil'. Jaw Finder lacks emotional intelligence or ability, viewing all people as purely, assets, prey, or indeterminate. as an apex predator, Jaw Finder seeks predation, but is willing to do other things that could lead to eating more prey. Equipment: can keep money somewhere. (I don't know where)
  2. act i. The Profile Birth Name: Rain Dark, in his native language "Tenebris Pulviam" Name: Tenebris Pulviam Title: "Son of the Moonlight" Age: 134 Race: Lycarias (Wolf Folk/Furry) Sexuality: Heterosexual Class: Warlock/Warrior (Hybrid class) act ii. The Diagnostics Height: 7'3" Weight: 257lbs. Hair/Fur: Black as night. There are many small speckles of fur that glow a dim white when in the moonlight, making him look as if he were the night itself. There are designs of white, red, and grey fur along his chest (seen in his picture) that glow dimly in the moonlight as well. Eyes: Eyes are a pitch black themselves, however the irises are a glowing blue. They glow more a bluish green and much brighter when in the moonlight. Voice: Deep, more a gruff tone than anything. act iii. The Armament : Weapon: Redde: A ten foot sword crafted of bone, harder and sharper than any steel, gifted from an old god. Redde was used by the war chief of all tribes, and to use it without such rank is punishable by death. Tenebris, familar with the blade, knowing it as his own mentor and only friend weilds it with a berserkers ferocity yet mastery over the weapon. The weapon grants him the power to cut through magic shields, and allows for few techniques: Flash Moonlight, Deep Cycle, and Judgment. -Flash Moonlight: Devised by the first Lycarias chief, this move allows it's caster to charge moonlight into the weapon. Then it is released upon the actual weapon, causing it to glow a bluish green. This form of enchantment allows for the weapon to deal magic damage, or all the power can be released as a ranged attack where the weilder launches a wave of energy at a foe, crushing, slicing, and damaging them greatly. (Deals physical, magic, and frost damage. 2 turn charge, 6 turn recharge, can only be used 4 times per topic) -Deep Cycle: Devised of the first prophet of the Lunar Church, deep cycle allows it's caster to send blades of shadow at a foe, ripping from the ground up. It is a move that requires great concentration without conflict, while this would be an obvious weakness it is rewarded by five shifting blades of shadow pursuing a targeted foe. The shadows come up to impale and slice at a foe, causing strictly physical damage. (Deals physical damage. 4 turn charge, 10 turn recharge, used only 2 times per topic) -Judgement, Tier I: Devised by an old god and gifted to only a worthy war chief, Judgement is powerful by all means. It can be used only in the presence of the sun or moon as it charges based on the natural light provided. This attack varies based on day and night and due to this it's relatively easy to cast, but only those who learned it can weild it's awesome power. Once the charge is complete, the caster sends a massive wave of elemental power surging for a foe. The initial wave is 20ft in width, 10ft in length, and 10ft in height, making it an attack that's hard to dodge. (Deals Fire/Magic/Physical Damage during the day VS. Frost/Magic/Physical Damage at night. 6 turns to charge, 12 turns recharge, only used twice per topic) Armor: Alba Subit: A wolf's skull of an old god, as hard as steel, Alba Subit acts as a helm of power and righteous authority. Only pack members, namely prophets or sages, wore this skull. Fitting over his head just snug perfectly, the helm is imbued with Old Moonlight; a power that grants him the abilities to see through illusions/holograms, allows him to control shadows and darkness for few moments at a time, and also creates a barrier against weaker magics and curses. Armis Alta: A bone armor of an ancient wolf, gifted from an old god, Armis Alta are a set of gauntlets that extend up to the tricep of ones arms. The bone armor is only granted to the war chief of the tribes and no other, as to wear it without such rank is punishable by death. As hard as steel, the gauntlets are spiked all over giving the protection of the arms. Fitting snugly on Tenebris, the gauntlets grant unto him supernatural strength, durability, and allows him to summon a spiked bone round shield. Accessories: Altum Torque: Cast upon those who are imprisoned for treachery beyond sin by the old gods, the chains are made of an unknown metal and cover Tenebris' torso and neck. While possible to remove, the chains remain on as they provide minor protection but act a symbol that he was wrongly accused for. For him to remove them is to remove his purpose and his mission. It would be a sign that be broke free of a destiny. Thesauri Deorum: Granted as a sign of strong faith and full loyalty to an old god, this old iron amulet is in the shape of a wolf's skull attached to an iron chain. It grants it's bearer a resistance to pestilence and curses (but not a complete immunity) and gives them a small portion of extra stamina. act iv. The Dossier Personality: Being an older being, a being asleep for so long, Tenebris has not the idea that his race, Lycarias, were long erased from time. Meant to bring a "coming dark of the moon" Tenebris has a pride of self sacrifice and fulfillment of his kind. Originally in a war with the lion folk, dwarves, and orcs the Lycarias were severely outnumbered as humans hunted them down slowly due to the mix up between Lycarias and werewolves. Because of this small history that was major in its day Tenebris discriminated against those four people, believing them to be demons and self hypocrites. He loathed them, and still does. What drives the old wolf is his need to bring about an old prophecy that was meant to allow his kind to weild the power of moonlight, not as a weapon, but as a tool to unite all tribes of Lycarias into one and combat Lycanthropy, and age old illness of their kind. Well, that was till they went extinct. This self drive causes Tenebris to be ruthless, unconcerned of others, and a stone cold killer. He becomes careless in his mission and will do whatever it takes to complete it. How he reacts when he realizes his people are gone is quite unknown. Since he was revered as a prophet, Tenebris has a knack for studying religions and other pantheon's as to understand how his religion differs from most. That said, he carries a pride of Lycarias and is strong willed. Likes: There's not much that he likes, but to name just the few things, Tenebris rather enjoys studying other religions, collecting items like armaments and artifacts, and he loves basking in the moonlight. Dislikes: Orcs, Dwarves, Humans, and the Lion Folk from beneath the surface are something more of a "loathing" feeling than "disliking" them. Tenebris doesn't like being bothered when he is alone, nor while training, and he certainly hates ignorance, arrogance, and complete stupidity from others. Attitude: Since he was but a pup, Tenebris was always taught of how to be a prophet of his people, as he was born with the markings/symbols of their old gods on his chest. Ever since then Tenebris felt no choice but to force this destiny upon himself, he will complete it at all cost. His attitude toward others varies quite a bit: Humans, Orcs, Dwarves, and Lion Folk he will either avoid or (if he's having a bad day) will kill on sight no matter the risk. He cares less for Elves and other races, but canine races similar to his he treats almost like brothers and sisters, just with a distance. Those inflicted with Lycanthropy he takes pity and takes them in, either killing them if too far gone or teaching them if not far into the infection. Habit/Twitch: Since a pup, Tenebris has had the oddity of grinding his teeth. It can be through happiness, anger, sadness, or just sheer boredom. Another habit is organizing items, for example the colors of books on a book shelf are all different, so he would reorganize them from. cool colors to warm colors, or rather light to dark colored books, and this can be with anything. Quote: "When your kind laid eyes upon us, you saw not a people but a beast, a fearsome savagery you couldn't understand. You, the green skins, and the underfolk have pledged allegiance against us, yet you barely understood our nature. Through unquestionable blinding rage you marched to our home and began what we will finish. You took away my home and my family, now I shall do the same unto you"
  3. 'Those at the rear bellowed; forwards!' 'And those at the front screamed; back!' - Testimonies from the Siege of Noviria; 'the monster of Arcos' 'Our enemies are countless. Carrion, they would make us. They are killers and reavers, without mercy.' 'You will be worse.' - A father's words CHIMAERA Name: Lanius of Thraece Monikers/Titles: Chimaera Race: Human [Allegedly] Age: Born 572 WTA; 24 Birthplace: Noviria Occupation: Errant IN VERMILION CLAD Height: 7'1", 213cm Weight: 300lbs, 135kg Personality: "Militat omnis amans." Many a frustrated pedagogue could attest to Lanius' sharp wit and sharper tongue. Even as a stripling, his capacity to find personal weakness and bring it to light was staggering. Taciturn, yet deliberate in every word spoken. This brought him a great deal of popularity among the courtroom aristocracy of Ursa Madeum. Noble-folk would flock to the great house of Arcos to speak to the boy and then find themselves regretting it the moment his phlegmatic perceptions were voiced. Lanius does not coddle, nor does he waste words. If there is one trait that is both his strength and flaw, it is his honesty. Lying seems pointless to the man, when truth is simpler. Quicker. This bluntness extended to anyone and everyone; even the Tyrant King was susceptible to the naysaying and harsh words of Lanius. But there is a consistency in him. Lanius holds no biases; he adheres to logic and eschews passion as the men of Arcos have done for centuries before. Be it a king or a peasant, his tone and manner are ironclad. To say the man is without fault would be wrong. Debauchery and violence; Lanius voraciously seeks out both. Men and women, drink and flesh. A calling towards the dance of blades, the spilling of blood; he practices all with an unending thirst. Encouraged in the latter by his father, Lanius became an infamous warrior, vaunted for his skill and feared for his ferocity. Physical description: Marred. Whomever Lanius' mother was, she left little of herself in her child; Lanius possesses those austere, well-crafted features of his father. It was as though he was cast from granite, weathered yet nonetheless as stoic as stone itself. Yet the craftsman who made him seems dissatisfied with his work and the myriad of ruin and scarred flesh that traces along the side of his face in sporadic, winding patterns of ugly, pale skin. Lanius wears his fate upon his face and makes little attempt to hide it. Hideous, yet ferocious - those comely, handsome features of his Arcos lineage are destroyed by the life he pursues. Only his eyes show some semblance of youth. Beautiful and sad like that of his mothers, they are of a pale green. A shock of red-brown, thick hair crowns his head though Lanius often keeps his shaved short and eschews any kind of facial hair longer than a dark auburn stubble. Even before taking Willbreaker and binding it to him, it would have been difficult to truly believe that Lanius was human. As a boy of twelve, he towered over the praetors of his father's domus. By his eighteenth year, even Dridak had to crane his neck when addressing him. Coils of interlocking, taut musculature shift and churn beneath the veil of his flesh. His feats of endurance and strength were otherworldly. Drasir ink-wrights have covered the vast canvas of his body in a myriad of apocryphal images; likenesses of iconoclasts, foreboding constellations and of dark beasts and the men slaying them, painted onto his body by needle. 'Chimaera of Thraece' INCONTINENS Abilities: Enhanced physicality: Lanius' bonding to the blade Willbreaker has enhanced his already considerable physical might. Capable of peeling a knights armour open with his bare hands, the Oathblade's powers have made him ferocious. An average human seems to move as though wading through a slow molasses; his reflexes, speed and dexterity are beyond the ken of their ilk. Skills: Swordsmanship: Painters have their brush, a craftsman his chisel. For Lanius, his calling has always lied with the sword and to this end he has pursued and perfected it. The moniker of 'monster of Arcos' was easily earned by him, from tournaments to battlefields countless foes have tasted the bite of his blade and been found wanting. Wrestling: With fists like hammers, trained blows strike against his foes, though where once a well-landed caestus-clad punch would have debilitated an opponent, his enhanced strength often means whatever organ he punches is sundered and rent. Grapples and pins when used in conjunction with his blade is Lanius' favourite method of fighting, a style he has honed through years of vigorous application. Statecraft: The running, maintaining and controlling of towns, holdings and properties of a ruler. Though not of noble birth, he was expected nonetheless to be responsible for a number of his father's duties and carried them out with a natural skill and efficiency. Many are fond of remarking that Lanius 'is the best king to never wear a crown'. Military Strategy: Arcos is famous for her Red Legion, who conquer and control with a ruthless, unerring efficiency. As a son of the Dominus, it was expected that Lanius might serve and rise through the ranks when he came of age. As Legatus Primus of the Red Legion, he was deferred to in matters relating to tactics and stratagem as he possessed his father's keen military mind. Animal handling: Passionate towards the treatment and training of animals. Breeding coursers and destriers, bloodhounds and pole-cats, animals are a great interest for him. In particular, he is fond of birds - namely songbirds. He has also raised some of the finest raptors in Ursa Madeum, according to many falconers. Botany: An avid practitioner of horticulture, from vineyards to hanging gardens Lanius is a fanatical green-thumb. Flaws: Precognition: Half-dreams, visions of prophesy or the insight brought by an Oracle's blood. Lanius' ability to see into the future is spastic and untrained; a broken storm of images and possibilities. The advent of a prophesy does not conclude it is to happen - many times these insights are nothing more than a haze of possibility, of chance. These episodes bring about a great deal of pain to him and cripple him whilst they occur. WILLBREAKER An oathblade. Not an easy thing to wield. It calls itself Willbreaker. Abyssal-forged. Primordial. Unslaked. A sword should hardly be a complicated matter. The hand that wields, controls. Even the venerable Oathblades are bound by this law of steel; those souls who bind themselves to them are their masters, granting them their gifts, their power. Willbreaker does not house a great power, it imprisons it. It stirs, shifting and plotting. To the wielder, it whispers dark promises of ascension. Of conquest and adoration and immortality; the host will be rewarded, should it fulfil the designs of their blade. Of late, Willbreaker promises Lanius the one thing he strives for, vengeance. The wrongs against his family will be righted, brought to bear and then washed away amidst a tide of vitae. All it asks in return is release. Through a murky haze of half-remembered memories, the spirit that possesses Willbreaker longs for its mind to be restored. With Lanius, the creature calls out for him to scour the land in search of every hexer, witch and pellar for some manner of truth, a cure or a reason for its current predicament. In his dreams, Lanius has saw this come to be and the world bleeds for it. As a weapon, Willbreaker grants its wielder enhancements beyond the limitations of their physical form. Enhanced speed, strength, dexterity and endurance are all boons brought on by wielding an Oathblade. Dominion over water and ice and the ability to alter the form of it at will is conferred onto the blade's master as well. Its shape is that of the weapons used by the ancient Sea-lords of Vanora. The blade flickers and dances as though the surface allows one to peer into the essence of a raging storm. Amidst the churning waves and break, one can see something else as well. VENI Garbed in his father's toga, Lanius came to the house of Arcos without explanation or warning. Only the rain heralded his arrival, a silent babe who slept soundly in the arms of his father; Dridak. Supposedly the man had doubted the child had even been his, until when reaching down into his cot, the baby bit down on his finger. A bastard, though Dridak would not tolerate the word be used in his presence. The boy was accepted into the family without complaint or grievance, save for a slightly upset wife. It was his half-sister Adrya, who gave the boy the title Chimaera for his chimeric blood and viciousness which he possessed even as a child. The boy was most certainly difficult throughout his youth. But not in an overtly malicious manner. He simply sought to rebel, to find fault in everything and to make his own decisions. Dridak obsessed over turning the boy into the apotheosis of a warrior, to which Lanius thrived. Lanius saw many suitors despite his low birth, though he showed very little interest in them, beyond the immediately physical, which resulted in plenty of altercations with enraged fathers. Promised to Queen Decamron as a personal, sworn guard which never came to pass, following her disappearance and eventual claiming of the throne by the Tyrant King. With Dridak's death at the hands of Crowley, Marrow and Willbreaker were delivered to House Arcos as a show of good faith and reward for their service to Gillick during his reign. Supposedly, Adrya had Lanius keep vigil over her bedchambers whilst she met with the Tyrant King, for fear that he would voice is vitriolic distaste for the man to his face. Nonetheless, Gillick insisted that Willbreaker go to Lanius, who found his bloody reputation commendable. Taen's invasion of Thraece, breaking through the skein of the blood-barrier that followed months after led their path to Noviria. Lanius, without a word retrieved Willbreaker and demanded his sister flee their domus to ensure that the Arcos name would not fade with her death. Standing before the locked door of his childhood home's entrance and waited. Three times, the warriors of Taen charged. Three times, they were repelled. Rumour persists that with the Red Legion slaughtered and Noviria all but taken, Lanius went half-mad, slaughtering his way through the rank and file of the invaders and fleeing. As of late, Lanius finds himself wandering the wilds of Thraece in search of vengeance. To right the wrongs against his father and ensure that House Arcos once again rules. VIDI List of in-progress or completed roleplays: None! [yet] VICI Goals: Find his half-sister, Adrya Arcos Restore House Arcos Avenge his father by killing Walter Crowley Prevent the release of Willbreaker Own a vineyard, make his own vintage Adopt a cute dog. Or two.
  4. Vito, Marauder and Drug Trafficker Born in Blairville, Eli was brought up in life of a gypsie trader. He was raised with a loving family, who frequently traded and traveled on the open roads. It was basic, but they made a good living. At the age of 10, both his parents passed away in large scale fire at a trade market in Casper, leaving Eli orphaned. Fortunately, his uncle Augustus was willing to adopt him. This brought him into the life of a marauder, a man who raids the raider. Augustus was a member of an unnamed raider gang, a somewhat more moral groups of pirates. They were known for primarily targeting, but had no problem targeting larger ships owned by the rich. This was unfortunately their downfall. At the age of 24, Eli was returning from a raid. As he entered the base, he came back to singed corpses and burning structures. A rich group of nobles and well known pirates combined forces to end the group, reducing them to nothing more than ashes. Eli, the last standing member, continues the traditions of the group. Years of surviving in the wild and ouread have given Vito an expert level understanding of herbalism, along with his obtained knowledge of drug production has made him a master alchemist. Currently partnered with Caden, Vito pursues his goals of expanding his newly established drug empire. Wanderer - Shattered - Tale of the Forgotten Kingdom Given Name: Eli Amsen Alias/Assumed Name: Vito Actual Age: 26 Physical Age: 26 Mental Age: 26 Gender: Male Gender Role/Expression: Masculine Species: Human Hometown: Blairville Appearance Hair: Blonde Eyes: White Facial Features: Nothing of distinction. Physical Impairments: None. Build: Tall and lean. Clothing: Light padded leather armor. Accessories: Bone Mask, selection of enchanted rings and multiple pouches. Other: Weapons - Main: Secondary: Bowie Knife Power/Abilities: Earth manipulation. Other: Spear, javelins, siege crossbow, silver bolts, vakar bolts, steel bolts, Smoke bombs, throwing knives, throwing nets. Companions and Alias - ~ Iohmar - Companion ~ Jorahel - Companion ~ Floki the Drake - Companion and mount ~ Caden - Partner in crime. ~ Cookie - Summon ~ Shaka - Summon ~ Odd - Summon Vehicle- Caiman - Airship Personality - Top Three Defining Strengths: Patience, willpower and agility. Top Three Defining Flaws: Sadistic, stubbornness, slow learner. Material Fears: Large insects. Emotional Fears: Being captured. Abstract Fears: None. Material Desires: Treasure (Amulets, coins, etc.) Emotional Desires: Restart his old raiding group. Abstract Desires: None. Large-Scale Aim: Establish a base and restart his old group Small-Scale Aim: Raid and loot. Inventory - ~ Demon horn ~ Demon blood ~ Enchanted uru sphere (Soul of Leo): Soul linked ~ Vakar collar ~ Dragon blood ~ Dragon horn ~ Dragon bone ~ Dragon scale ~ Dragon heart ~ Dragon glands ~ Dragon membrane ~ Giants blood ~ Giant bone ~ Pseudo cyclops brain ~ Pseudo cyclops eye ~ Leo's blood ~ Leo's pelt ~ Leo Materia Shard [tier 1 fire manipulation]
  5. Asphodel

    Seren Mirage

    A Lost Familiar Basic Information Name: Seren Mirage Nicknames/pseudonyms: N/A Title(s): Servant of the Avira Age: 10yrs Apparent Age: Mid to late teens Race: Appears harpy-like, but is technically a shapeshifter Gender: Genderqueer, uses he/him and they/them interchangeably Sexuality: Pansexual Marital Status: Unmarried Birthplace: Terrenus Alignment: Chaotic Good Physical and Appearance To clarify, Seren is a shapeshifter so a lot of these are more of... Rough estimates. Weight: Can go from 2 pounds to 140 pounds Height: Anywhere from 23" to 5'9ft Physique: Lithe and flighty in all forms, mildly feminine in humanoid form Eyes: Dark brown / near-black Hair: Shaggy black that covers his eyes when humanoid Complexion: Sickly pale Voice: Scratchy and deep Tattoos/markings: None Unique traits: In raven form he's completely normal and average. In humanoid form he can be distinguished with these traits: large, black feathery wings sprouting from his shoulderblades area and ending at his ankles. Bird-esq feet starting at the knee. Black feathers sprouting out of his chest, going down to his bellybutton. Typical Attire: Normally seen wearing the clothes of his missing master; light, warm shades are prominent as are yoga pants and intricate tops. Psychological Information Demeanor: Distant, Grumpy; Self-centered Strengths: Intelligent; Cunning; Determined Weaknesses: Emotionally closed off; Has difficulty accepting help; Cares little about rules or laws Quirks: Ruffles his wings when unnerved; Chirps when nervous; Clicks his tongue when thinking deeply Likes: Rain but not thunder or lightning; A warm, empty spot by a hearth; A long bath after a hard day Dislikes: People who ask too many questions; being contained/trapped in any way; Rumors and people who spread them Equipment Mundane: · Tinderbox · Waterskin full of clean, drinkable water · Crowbar · 5 days worth of traveling rations · A bag full of random women's clothes Weapons: · Duel pair of mundane iron sickles Other: · Small magical amulet that glows faintly when within 50ft proximity of Avira, and is continually warm so long as both of them live (It has a twin amulet attuned to Seren's presence, but it is not in his possession) · A note with the scrawled words "FIND SANCTUARY" Skills & Deficiencies Mundane: · + Skill – Identifying animal calls (particular bird songs); Skilled scratch-cook; Quick learner · - Deficiency – Unaccustomed to some human customs and instead supplements bird customs; Difficulty acknowledging the worth of others; Awful at haggling prices Combat: · + Advantage/Skill – Fast and battle-ready in any situation; Willing to forfeit morals in order to win; Can use shapeshifting while fighting to avoid blows, or move to a more advantageous position · - Deficiency – Low pain tolerance; Doesn't know when to stop; More willing to flee than fight Abilities Ability Class/Tree - Shapeshifter Capabilities: Seren can move between two distinct forms; his raven form, and his humanoid form. He can transform into other animals, but he'll appear as a mass of black feathers in the vague shape of said other animal instead of taking a proper form. · Active | Moving Between Forms – He can actively change forms, but the transformation usually takes around 6 seconds and is tiring. · Passive | Maintaining A Form – He can maintain whatever form he is currently in without effort exerted. Weaknesses: All injuries will be carried over; Can be trapped in cages too small for him to shift inside (ex: a heavy duty cage built for a raven he couldn't shift out of, since he'd just crush himself); Cannot transform into anything smaller than a raven. Miscellaneous: This power was gifted to him by a sorcerer who took pity on his hopeless search for his master. History Seren's story began ten years ago, when his egg was found and hatched by one Avira Iquora. She was a young apprentice wizard, and at the time had no plans except for helping little Seren survive until adulthood. And as he grew, she grew, and they found happiness in each other's presences. Things felt right to Seren, to spend his time and life with her, and Avira decided to keep him as a pet and eventually take him as her familiar. Things were good, and they stayed good for the next ten years as Avira continued to explore her magic and Seren stayed by her side faithfully. But one day, years after Avira had finished her apprenticeship and taken to a house in the wilderness to experiment with her magic, she decided to try something dangerous. She wanted to peek into one of the outer realms, and gather data to hopefully built a portal to these worlds of chaos so they could be harnessed for their magical essences and energy. Seren helped her draw up the spell in the middle of the swamplands that evening, but Avira sent him back to their home; she was scared his tinier, frailer body might get sucked into the portal and he'd be unable to do anything except get swept away. So Seren left, and waited. And waited. And then the night had passed and it was morning, and Avira still hadn't returned. So he flew out of their home and back to the site where they'd drawn the spell, and the clearing was scorched and destroyed. Avira was nowhere in sight, so Seren searched fearing what'd become of her. But his searching came up futile; she'd disappeared, leaving only unreadable notes and a destroyed patch of land. Seren's amulet was still warm though, so Avira couldn't have died. ...Well, most of the notes were unreadable. One had "FIND SANCTUARY" scrawled upon it, in shaky letters. Seren took the note, and took the message to heart. He returned home only to gather what he'd need, and began his journey to find Sanctuary and hopefully find Avira there.
  6. "Count yourself lucky no one's put a bounty on your head." GENERAL INFORMATION NAME: Nirsim Camry RACE: Human AGE: 31 years DATE OF BIRTH: October 11th CLASS: Ranger, Bounty Hunter CURRENT OCCUPATION: Freelance Hunter, Mercenary, Sword-For-Hire, Adventurer etc. PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION HEIGHT: 5'7" / 170cm WEIGHT: 132lbs / 60 kg EYE COLOR: Hazel HAIR COLOR/STYLE: Brown, tied into a high ponytail SKIN COLOR: Tanned BODY TYPE: Fit and toned SCARS/MARKINGS: Two scars along the left side of her face, and over her left eye. ADDITIONAL DETAILS: A birthmark on the back of her neck, in the shape of a "V". CLOTHING, ARMOR & EQUIPMENT CLOTHES & ARMOR: A standard leather tunic over a red long-sleeved shirt. Leather bracers that extend over the back of her hands, cuffed leather boots over padded trousers, and a tawny colored cape with a hood. The cape has a metal clasp over the left side of her chest. There is also a utility belt hanging from her hip. WEAPONS: HEAVY CROSSBOW Weighs 18lbs, made of oak wood with metal embellishments. When not in use, it is hung over Nirsim's back. The crossbow bolts are in a quiver hung securely from the utility belt. DAGGER Weighs around 1lb, made of stainless steel. When not in use, sheathed on the utility belt. ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Sabertooth Necklace of The Hunt - A rope necklace lined with canine teeth that when worn gives the wearer a boosted intuition when searching for something/someone. ABILITIES, TRAITS & PERSONALITY SPECIAL ABILITIES: None. Nirsim is a human with no racial or innate magical abilities. TRAITS: Serious, Brooding, Skilled. MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good BACKGROUND & HISTORY Nirsim Camry had spent her adult years almost entirely as a bounty hunter. When she was in her teenagehood, she began to show a lack of faith in both wrongdoers and the justice system in her hometown. Her father was a Lieutenant of the Guard there, but no matter how much Nirsim voiced her opinion of how poorly the Guard dealt with hunting down criminals, there was nothing her father could do about it without angering the Captain. On the eve of her 15th birthday, Nirsim’s father offered to train her in combat. He hoped that she would join the Guard and someday make it better at catching criminals. She readily accepted, but with a different plan in mind. As she trained, she found a liking in the Heavy Crossbow. She practiced shooting with it more than any other form of training, letting her develop a very sharp eye. After she turned 20, Nirsim refused to join the Guard, disappointing her father a great deal. They argued ferociously before he left the house to cool off. He did not return that night. Worried for her father, Nirsim went out the next morning to find him floating in the river just outside of town, murdered. Furious, vengeful, and deeply sorrowed, Nirsim demanded that the Captain immediately get on the case. The Captain told her he will get to it when he can, but that would not be soon enough for her. She made a scene of it before leaving. Three nights later, Nirsim was attacked. She took down the attacker to discover him to be a member of the Guard, disguised as an assassin. This was the moment it dawned on her that she had to do things herself. Immediately she raided the Guard, but despite there being enough evidence of the Captain being corrupt, the Captain himself had fled when he learned Nirsim was coming for him. After 3 months, she finally captured him and dragged him to his higher ups, and she was very satisfied with his sentencing. Nirsim was about to go home when she remembered the thrill of hunting him down. She didn’t want to let go of it just yet. So she became a bounty hunter. After several years, Nirsim found that new bounties weren’t being posted often enough. She considered a career change, to something similar in protecting the good and fending off the bad. So she became a mercenary. But a very picky one. Most of her contractors were simple, good folk, who needed protection on their journeys or a strong hand in physical labor. This type of work she easily agreed to complete. But for those who hired her to help participate in illegal affairs, she would “turn traitor” and hand them to the authorities, with no remorse for the evil swine whatsoever. To this day she remains a mercenary, but a good-hearted one.
  7. Name: Larian D'har Cassar Gender: Male Age: 120 Race: Elf Class: Warrior Alignment: True Natural Combat skills: Two-Handed Swords - Specialized (++) Long Swords - Profecient (+) Daggers - Profecient (+) Two-Handed Style - Profecient (+) Single-Weapon Style - Profecient (+) Occupation: Freelancer When asked about himself, Larian is hesitant to share much. However he tells that he is from humble origins and were raised in a farming village, however the identify of his true parents remained a mystery from both him and those who raised him. Whenever he asked his foster family they merely claimed that they happened found him in the outskirts of the small farming village by chance. When he was old enough, he left the village and those who had brought him up. Ever since then he explains that the road has been his home, never keeping to the same place for too long. When asked about the markings on his body, he merely shrugs his shoulders and tells that for as long as he can remember they have just been there. He simply does not know their origin and how they came to be on his body. However regardless of their origin, their powers has served to save him from a grim fate countless times during his travels. Runic markings The mysterious runic markings covering Larian's body grants him with enhanced speed and agility and also greatly reduces recovery times from injury. A simple cut can heal in a couple of minutes. While he cannot himself control these runes whatsoever, they seem to react and become active whenever adrenaline is produced.
  8. Profile Name: Dauner Light Alias: The Black Swordsman Age: 17 Race: Half Human - Half Dragon Gender: Male Alignment: Chaotic good Class: Swordsman Hair: Dark and short Eyes: Brown Skin: Light-Dark Height: 1.76 meters Weight: 149.91 pounds Build: A bit muscular Nature: Childish and impulsive but intelligent. Addicted to combat Appearance: Wears a plain, black shirt and black plants with a black robe. The rove is long sleeved and extends down to his shoes. It has a rope-like extension at the chest level where both sides of the robe are connected. This extension is long enough to leave a little gap between the robes sides through which the shirt is visible. Wears black sneakers to complete an all-black attire. It has a scabbard on its back where his sword is sheathed. Weapon Info: Type: Two katanas of rare grade known as the twin blades Ichira and Nira Blade length: 30 inches Powers: Posses unstable lightning magic. His magic is will based and doesn’t require spell chant except for high level spells. His lightning cannot be used directly in combat but can be channeled through weapons for stronger attacks. Lightning can also be channeled into his sword and fired as a long range attack in the form of a slash and also to modify the swords effect when it comes in contact with objects. OOC: This character is the same as the MC of my story The Black Swordsman so this sheet will be edited as Dauner progresses in the story
  9. The Date is...not important, I suppose. We finally made it to one end of the vessel. The vessel? This...ship? Somewhere past the sprawling bridges and bone scaffolds, we found our way back to the rest of the regular parts of the ship, if you could call it that. It's here that we found...Gods, what am I meant to write here? I...think this is what we were meant to see. -M'yr Boldbarrow's personal logbook, upon encountering The Coiled Beast (Perhaps) Basics: Full Name: M'yr Boldbarrow Jr. (Son of M'yr Boldbarrow Sr.) Monikers: Acolyte, M'yr, "Lighthouse" (to some) Height: 5'10 (177.8 cm) Weight: 125 lbs (56.6 kg) Age: 24 Physical Description: M'yr is not a notable figure in a number of ways. Skinny and pale, with a thin build, his dark brown hair has been dulled to a less healthy tone from repeated overexposure to sea water, and yet this is offset by his eyes. M'yr has large, deep blue eyes, like the depths of fathomless pools, untainted by worry or fear. However, often his eyes are the only part of his face most folk see, given his inclination to wear a mask made of driftwood. Aside from that, his build is trim, malnourished and shows signs of physical wear. In particular, his forearms and wrists are mottled with several thin, white scars that run across his wrists. From time to time, bruises will also mottle his knees and legs and upper arms, often without comment from him. M'yr, without his mask, often seems troubled, and easily startled. He's particularly emotive, and doesn't do much to hide his feelings when he cannot mask his expressions. He doesn't have any real wrinkles or imperfections to his complexion. M'yr will occasionally (most of the time) wear some kind of eye liner, yet this often gets smeared or washed away, running down his face. On very rare occasions, M'yr may get excited, or enthusiastic about his work and speeches, and a sort of childlike brightness invigorates his features, warming his cheeks and making his eyes gleam as if he were on the verge of tears. Behavior: M'yr has been at multiple times, a troubled youth, a worried child, a confident amateur and, more recently, a nervous wreck. Since his discovery in the wetlands, burden weighs heavily on an untested mind, and M'yr is fit to experience bursts of fear, or frustration, or panic attacks, regularly interrupting anything he's currently working on. M'yr often has more to say than he can say at any given time, but will quickly stop or lose interest if interrupted, or otherwise unable to speak. This happens more often than you'd think, as M'yr has a strong dislike of speaking for himself, when others interrupt him, and he usually speaks ineffectually, making it harder for people to take him seriously and let him finish. M'yr has a long and unfortunate history of neglect and abuse, growing up in an unforgiving household and tormented by some of his more cruel peers. He suffers from some form of Imposter's Syndrome, in which he feels as though he must constantly prove himself to others, and yet often cannot find a way to do so, leading to a growing anxiety over his ability to do anything. And M'yr has to do something, because as far as he understands, if he doesn't, everyone will die. That's not to say M'yr is a total wreck of a human being. Despite his hardships, M'yr has managed, from time to time, to rise to the challenge, and often finds the ability to do what must be done in other people. He frequently offers himself to others, as a sympathetic listener when they need him most, and when he is in a good place can be quite charismatic and empathetic. When M'yr gets into a project, is allowed to speak at length on something he cares about, this sort of 'life' comes about him, where he talks faster and louder, gestures with his hands more often, and his body language improves as well. This feeling is harder to stifle, and when M'yr is in a good mood, it's hard to put him back down. It doesn't last forever. History: This notebook belongs to M'yr Boldbarrow If found, please return to... - Half of the front cover of M'yr's Journal. The other half is slowly being engulfed by barnacles... M'yr was born to M'yr and Daria Boldbarrow in Lunaris, where they both worked. Both Mr and Mrs. Boldbarrow were well-educated archaeologists, half-married to their work that did not precisely suffer in any way. M'yr, then, was raised a healthy, happy and educated young boy, who never knew hardship a day in his life. As a very young child, M'yr was oftentimes a dreamer, rather than a thinker. He worked tirelessly trying to build forts and tree houses out in the family's backyard. He made crafts, drew pictures and 'treasure maps'. He often told his parents of his dreams, and his desire to 'change the world someday.' His parents, especially his mother, would laugh at these dreams, never in a deliberately mean way, but in the way only an awkward parent might, blind to their children's aspirations. "Silly boy, who are you to change the world?" She'd often chide him. Though at first it bothered him only a little, as he grew older, he grew colder and more withdrawn, and eventually he stopped talking about his future altogether. His parents did what they could to mend the gap, but repeated failures at connecting with their son drove a permanent wedge between them. One night, while he was alone in his bedroom, his mother attempted to talk to him, perhaps the last time they ever would speak. She asked him if he still loved her. M'yr, burned one too many times, gave a noncommittal affirmative, and refused to talk further. Things grew more and more disparate. When M'yr turned 16, things only got worse. His mother fell ill, and was sent to a hospital in Arcturon for examination. The studies cost the family more than they could afford, but M'yr Sr. spent it anyway. Eventually, the news came back. Due to some complications at his birth, M'yr's mother had suffered an unexpected, and at the time undetected infection from the hospital where she gave birth. 16 years later, her immune system was bust, and suddenly fighting off what otherwise could have been a treatable illness proved fatal. M'yr senior spent everything he could on trying to save his dying wife, but she ultimately perished less than a year after diagnosis. Family life was never harder. M'yr's father ended up missing a lot of work, grieving over his wife, while M'yr was still struggling to get through the University courses in cartography he'd enrolled in. They didn't spoke, and often M'yr's father didn't eat for several days on end. One night, things came to a crest, when M'yr and his father had an altercation. M'yr had come home early, after getting into a fight with another student who mocked his dead mother. When his father learned about it, they didn't say a word to each other that night. M'yr went to bed, only to wake up in the dead of night to his father staring at him. M'yr Sr. revealed that he and Daria had never wanted a son, never wanted a kid. That M'yr had always been a drain on them from the beginning. He strained their marriage. M'yr took his father's wife away. Things did not improve. M'yr's work got worse, and worse at school. His attendance dropped, and he got into more fights. Eventually, he just started staying at the school, instead of going home every night. Around 3 months before his graduation, M'yr got into another altercation with a student behind the school. Nobody was there to see them fight, and nobody watched M'yr pull the sharpened ruler from his wallet and stab the other student repeatedly, between the ribs. The student died not long afterward, and M'yr panicked, hiding the body in a school construction site, and burying it in gravel and stones. His mental health continued to fail; he skipped classes, developed an unhealthy drinking habit. His self-harm worsened, and more than once he stabbed himself in the side, agonizing over his guilt. He attempted to turn himself in more than once, but always failed to do so. As far as M'yr could tell, nobody ever found out that he'd killed the student; the student simply went 'missing.' Despite his failures, M'yr still managed to graduate with a degree in cartography, minoring in archaeology. By then, he had nowhere else to go. With nothing else to gain, M'yr quickly enrolled with a local dig group. Not long after, he ended up being sent to the Wetlands to investigate a potential dig site, along with a senior archaeologist and two juniors, that he had gone through school with. This doesn't make any sense anymore, it's stopped making sense several worlds back! Where is the bilge! The galley? Where did these buildings, these towers come from? The water is rising still, but our equipment is undamaged. From what I can tell we must be someplace--- The rest of the page is filled with increasingly frenzied scratching, as if M'yr either forgot how to draw, or had to draw rooms upon rooms upon rooms again and again. The expedition into the Wetlands was M'yr's first--and last--task with the dig group. They'd mounted up for what was expected to be a quick survey, following up on reports from locals that a 'large boat' had been discovered in the wetlands. Assuming it to be an ancient wreck, they were sent to investigate the reports. It started as a fairly straightforward investigation. They'd navigated the wetlands and eventually found where the ship was meant to be. Once they found it, things quickly grew awry. For one thing, the vessel--indeed, it was a full-sized ship, washed up in the wetlands--was intact, and recently repaired. It was larger than any boat M'yr had ever seen or read about, for one. They managed to climb aboard, and after a while decided to explore the ship, investigating every room individually. Things got weird when they all passed through different doors, and all ended up in the same room. M'yr's journal depicts their struggles to navigate and map the ship as they went. Quickly, the crew quarters and storage rooms were replaced by vast, empty fields with dull grey skies, cities made of bone and metal that stretched far beyond the horizon. They encountered the long-dead remains of whales and climbed vertically up massive towers they found themselves in. Oftentimes, the rooms would loop back on one another, and some rooms appeared quite normal from time to time. M'yr notes, exactly once, that he briefly passed through his family home in one room. This is depicted entirely in drawing, with the phrase 'Let It Go' scribbled across it repeatedly. Their journey came to an end--and their real journey began--when M'yr finally found the Coiled Beast, waiting for them. M'yr does not mention, in words or drawings, what it is he saw there. However, the way he speaks about it out loud makes just enough sense to be valid. Endless sea calls me ever seeking, crawling, searching coming for me, still. - One of M'yr's blanker pages. Soaked in water and salt, and reeking of dead fish. Since his exposure to the Coiled Beast, M'yr's goals have changed fundamentally. Increasingly aware of the prophetic visions bestowed upon him by the rising water. M'yr's actions revolve around trying to prepare to stem the damage of the rising waters. Though they haven't begun to rise yet, his paranoia only grows, and his efforts are that of proactive protection. M'yr spends his time slaving away trying to protect smaller communities however he can, running food drives, digging ditches and building walls and dams most frequently. He rarely works on these efforts alone; for some reason, M'yr often attracts help, both from other Acolytes, and from members of the community. He often has opportunities to discuss what he saw, and why he works towards his ends, but more often than not prefers just to talk about how he can help the folks in the towns he visits. Although unintentional, this helps M'yr's cause greatly, improving the public opinion of the Acolytes of the Coiled Beast. The Acolytes, speaking of which, were never formally formed, in any real sense. M'yr mentions once, in his journal (which currently sits in a library in Lunaris) that the Coiled Beast called upon him, specifically, to become its Acolyte, or perhaps its apprentice. From here, the official title of the cult just sort of arose from there. Interestingly enough, the Journal, and the mention of the Coiled Beast, seem to have a memetic effect of their own, wherein locals will accurately 'name' the cult, without actually knowing anything about it. Provided one has at least read the journal, or at least specific entries, they will always refer to the cult as The Acolytes of the Coiled Beast, its Pelagic Mind Treading above the Wake. M'yr holds no 'true' authority in the cult, in his own opinion. As one of the earliest members, however, people tend to listen to him on matters of action and optics, and M'yr often steers himself towards more constructive ends than destructive ends. He still harbors great guilt over the death of his mother, and the murder of the student. On particularly bad nights, he can be heard begging both of them to forgive him. More gifts arrived today. There was this rolling sound, like the waves crashing into the house. I opened the door, and saw it there, as if it were made just for me A small piece of driftwood, perfect to hide a face like mine. From M'yr's current, personal journal (Smells Like Rotted Wood) Attire: M'yr rarely changes his clothes. The Acolyte is most commonly seen wearing his trademark driftwood mask. It's an ugly, asymmetrical thing that covers the entirety of his face. It has holes bored into it for his eyes to peer through, and the back of it has been carved down, to better curve with his face. It's unpainted, although barnacles and kelp often creep across it. From time to time, the barnacles will grow too heavy to keep on any longer, and he'll scrape them off. He wears a heavy, often damp cloak made of coarse black fabric, which is lined with multiple heavy pockets lining its front. He carries a satchel with him often, which has been worn from constant exposure to the rain. The cape on the back of his cloak has been hooked into place with several small fish hooks, binding it in place. Furthermore, his belt is secured by larger hooks, which often sink into his flesh, causing tearing. He wears bangles made of braided chains, fishing lines, hooks, lures and ancient coins. He also sports a pair of fine trousers, and a pair of heavy, ugly, yellow fishing boots. M'yr occasionally covers his wrists and hands in medical gauze, in order to hide his self-harm marks, particularly when he self-mutilates recently. Gear: Sharpened Ruler: Encrusted with barnacles and sharpened to a fine point by M'yr himself. The sea never forgets and now, neither can M'yr. Useless as a proper weapon, but excellent for slipping between the ribs repeatedly, or dashing across your wrists. Abilities: Darkwater Invokation: Concentrating, M'yr invokes the wrath of the Coiled Beast, and a heavy tentacle surges from the depths, to grapple and smash whatever he wills it to. Rarely used, and never for a good reason. Freshwater Healing: Over time, M'yr may sweat out freshwater from his body, often profusely. This sweat will cleanse any open wounds on his body slowly, and overtime mollusks, barnacles, moss and sediment will form over them. When they flake off, all that will remain is an ugly white scar, just like all the others. Primeval Malediction: With a dark word in a whale's tongue, visions of ruin overcome the target. Causes no serious physical damage, but frightens, demoralizes or otherwise intimidates a target. Dark words, for dark deeds.
  10. Zink

    Callsign: Quake

    "...By all accounts, the test model was a success. Our knowledge on the OAM-N's response to Quadrupedal Chassis has helped streamline future development of the OAM-T considerably, and allowed for some choice refinements to the OAM system as a whole." "That test pilot will never use his limbs again. You call that a success?" Personal Information Name: Lukas Durant Nickname: 'Quake' Race: Human, Male. Age: 28 Birthplace: Last Chance, Terrenus Occupation: Terran Military Operative (Private) Branch: Engineers / Ogre Pilot "How are you feeling in there, Lukas?" "Doing alright, Doc. Worst I've felt so far is a light headache." "Neural Feedback is to be expected. Continue when you are ready." Physical Characteristics Height: 6'0 Weight: 180lbs (without prosthesis) Hair: Raven Black Skin: Swarthy Eyes: Light Blue Build: Bulky Voice: Gravelly Mental Characteristics Temperament: Melancholic MBTI: INTJ-T Traits: Reserved, Critical, Blunt, Loyal, Acerbic, Perfectionist. History 22 AO, Finished internship with Argus Incorporated, specializing in Advanced metallurgy and Material Sciences. 23 AO, Inducted into Terrenus Corps of Engineers, 66th Iconoclast Division. 25 AO, Sponsored for R&D participation in the OAM-T Artillery Project. 25 AO, [REDACTED] 28 AO, Reactivated and Re-Enrolled to the Terrenus Armed Forces, Paired with OAM-T/AP-Type Ogre.
  11. "The tide is coming, he is hungry. The tide is coming, he is hungry. The tide is coming, he is hungr-" 'Scrawlings found etched into the flotsam remains of the Amber Clad.' "Strange things lie, where the sun does shy, Where those gibbous rays go to die, Deep, deep in the timeless sea, The Great Serpent lives and dies in his sunken keep," 'Final Ode of Poet Ghrant Handr. Lost to the Wetlands.' SLAKE NAME: Slake MONIKER/TITLE/ALIAS: Aboleth Eater AGE: Twenty-six GENDER: Female RACE: High Elf BIRTHPLACE: Ursa Madeum ABOLETH EATER HEIGHT: 6'8", 203cm WEIGHT: 180lbs, 81kg PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: PERSONALITY: Changed. Pretty, once at least. But changed. A pallid hue has overcome her complexion, making her appear sickly and near the point of death. A myriad of branching, black veins can be see sporadically branching out across her flesh. The darkest parts of her bodies are her tattoos; countless, stereotypical seafarer's marks. A chain here, a compass there. An anchor or two. The most eye-catching of these is undoubtably the blue-eyes octopus etched onto the front of her throat, whose coiling arms move down onto her chest and spread out across her neck. Muscular, even by non-Elven standards. 'Every finger's a fishhook, mate.' is a commonly used to explain this way, though its hardly difficult to understand why she is built as she is; not only for the countless hours spent clambering rigging, but also the lifestyle of hunting down and slaughtering countless deep-sea monstrosities. Shifting, ebbing flecks of black litter her eyes, as black as the bottom of the ocean. They grow larger and larger with each passing day, a 'blessing' from her newfound, divine prophet. "Savvy?" For someone spiralling down the throes of madness, Slake is surprisingly sanguine. Outgoing, some would even call her. Or they would, if they weren't busy trying to find where their purses went. Quick of tongue, with even quicker fingers. Slake seems to cling to her cutthroat lifestyle as something of a comfort, as though it keeps her from fully delving into the insanity that plagues her mind. Shes even lucid, at certain points. Well, by the standards of an Acolyte, anyways. Indeed the seafaring Elf has a love for all manners of debauchery and hedonism, to the point where one would be hardly pressed to have to call her voracious. Drinking, flesh and coin - those are the things she had sought out before finding the Coiled Beast and those are the things she stubbornly clings to wihin her mind, for fear of losing it. In regards to her newfound religious 'purpose', Slake seems... vengeful. She'd never allow her world to be consumed by the brackish floods prophesized by the Sea Dragon and she'd do everything she can to stop it. Even if that means creating a new sea to sail, on the blood of those who try and stop her. GIFTS OF THE COILED BEAST EQUIPMENT: Guise of Apocryphal Tides - Trawled plate from the deeps, marred with coral, growth and refuse from countless years spent below. Or so, it would have you believe. The suit is not metal; its origins lie in the Wildlight of Taen - the guise is chitin, keratin and bone, where some of it may be the sewn together dregs of a whale carcass, the pauldrons, greaves and gauntlers may be the shells of living crustaceons, who bind themselves to the wearers shoulders, legs and arms with sturdy, grasping appendages. The helm is the calcified remains of an octopus, whose eyes glow with a deathly, green aura. It was Slake who veiled the raimant with a cloak of shedding skin from the Coiled Beast, and shrouded herself in madness. 'Guise of Apocryphal Tides.' Fall - Whalefall, as most sailors call it, where the fetid remains of a great mammal are cast down to the dark fathoms of the Sea. When the final movements of its cascading bulk find rest on the cold floor of the ocean, a feast begins. Sharks, crustaceons, eels and worse still flock to their carrion and gorge themselves on rotten blubber for years. Such is the spectacle for those who sail across the coast of Ursa Madeum - a great whaling rush had brought countless of those giants to their graves below, their forms rendered down to naught but bone by voracious scavengers. In one of these graveyards lies a blade forged from cooled ichorous earth, housed in a crossguard carved from whale bone. 'Fall' those fledgling Acolytes of the Coiled Beast had called it - sings to them, calls for them to wrench it free from its housing within a dias of volcanic rock. Countless have tried. Countless have died. Except for Slake. Now the Black Widow's Captain wields Fall, the oily, black surface of its blade greedily lapping up any blood given to it, singing whalesongs and abating the madness growing in its wielder. A shattered, rent tabard made from the interlocking coins of countless civilizations, towns and cities explored or reaved. When Slake gazed upon the terrible, unknowable form of the Great Serpent, the faces and likenesses on the coins began to weep. VILETIDE'S BLESSING Many believe the closer one is to their prophet, the closer they are to understanding their nature - and imparting themselves with some shred of that divinity. In a sense, those Acolytes who truly gaze upon that Eldritch, incomprehensible form of the coiled beast are blessed in their madness. Yet their dark deity imparts other wonders onto them, be it terrible visions, conjurations or minions. THE VILETIDE: Enclosing Waves - Though a minor hallucination, Slake often sees a growing tide behind herself and others. More concerning to her, is how it has been growing closer and closer throughout the months since she encountered the Coiled Serpent. Something lurks within the tide, waiting. Black spot - A crawling, shifting mound of raised, black flesh. Does little, beyond inspire a growing paranoia. Manifests when deep at Sea - and seems to attract the attentions of the more insidious denizens of the deep. Perhaps it is simply the gibbering, loud throes of sadness and rage it forces in those afflicted that draws the interest of Merfolk and Krakens, or perhaps they truly are cursed. Slake can transfer it, most commonly by a handshake. Siren's call - The Great Serpent calls out for her, in the distance. Resting in the eviscerated remains of some old, broken Sea God from eons past. A beautiful song, begging for her to run from the Rising Tides - it lulls her into a topor, a lethargy. Yet her mind screams at her to stop, to get as far from that yearning, dark prophet as possible. Slake has never gone close enough to the creature to touch it. PERPETUATING SHANTY: It has been many, many years since the crew of the Constellation of the Black Widow could truly call themselves human, or living. The Serpent has seen fit to bless Slake with the ability to give those flotsam corpses dredged up from the bottoms of the abyss some twisted mockery of life. Those returned are little more than bloated corpses, their bodies and physiques warped and corrupted by the sea. Their change may start with nothing more than a sprouting strand of seaweed or coral on a bodypart, yet the oldest and most vaunted of her crew are barely recognisable as beings that once walked upon the surface; their likenesses closer to the denizens of the deep they had been wrenched from. These wretched beings are risen up by Slake singing an evil song, which the crew have dubbed the 'Perpetuating Shanty'. CONSTELLATION OF THE BLACK WIDOW 'The Widow.' The sister-ship of Amber Clad, the Constellation of the Black Widow is a Cargo/Galleon hybrid - and was heralded as an apotheosis of its predecessor's strengths. The capacity and durability of a Cargo-vessel, combined with the generalist reliability of a Galleon. She and her crew were the first to respond to the disappearance of the Amber Clad, sailing out boldly to find their comrades, and return. In a way, they were successful. She had gone far on that voyage, father than any mortal mind could comprehend. And though she returned, she brought something back with her. Haunted, many were quick to call her. But there was nothing dead about her; she was alive. Spiteful, jealous and cunning. The Widow both loves and hates her crew; plots their end and keeps them from it. This may manifest in something as simple as the flickering and dying of a watchman's lantern, to something as severe as rigging flying out and choking the life out of a deckhand. Only Slake is feared by her. Only Slake can control the ship.
  12. Khada Reis Quick Sheet Name: Khada Reis Race: Kobold Gender: Male Physical Age: 22 Chronological Age: (Technicalities. Reis couldn't be bothered to learn, but he's from around 500 years in the past. Whether or not his actual age increased while being transported, he isn't sure.) Martial Status: Single Sexual Orientation: Homosexual Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Scales: Red Eyes: Brown Body: Slender, lean, fragile Height: 4’1” Weight: 64 lbs. Voice: High (and occasionally squeaky, if Reis gets worked up) Outfit: Long coat, black tunic, leather vest, trousers Accessories: Goggles Personality Traits: Alert Clever Spontaneous Rash Equipment: Steel daggers (3) Thieves' tools (File, lock picks, small mirror, scissors, pliers) Grappling hook (yoinked) Satchel containing three days’ worth of dried food (also yoinked) Mining drill (Yoinked straight from Valucre) Abilities: Darkvision Current Thread(s): A Fool's Errand Biography Khada Reis isn’t of this world. He’s from a world almost like Earth - only many years past. 519 years, to be exact. Reis was born around the end of the Medieval Era, around 1500 AD. As a human, mind you. He came from a small family, and lived with his father and twin sister for most of his childhood. He had no mother, as she had passed shortly after his birth. Reis’s father was a thief, and Reis and his sister were expected to commit the crime as well, to get by. The three were constantly on the move, never staying in a town or city longer than a month. The many years of stealing honed Reis and his sister’s roguish skills, though Reis took no joy in the act. He wasn’t out to cause suffering - With no other support, it was all he could do to stay alive. His sister, however, couldn’t have cared less. She would soon leave the two to make her own path. Reis would eventually follow at 19, though not before stealing most of what the three had amassed over the years from Father. Reis spent three more years using that money and anything he’d stolen to try and track down his sibling, doing bigger and more notable jobs in the process. At the very least, he wanted to stop her from making a mistake that she’d regret. On the third year, after following a solid lead on his sister’s whereabouts for several months, Reis was led to a small, near - empty village in a forest that wasn’t on any maps, with strange inhabitants. Reis eventually learned that someone with a description similar to his sister had made their way here as well, though the details on where she’d gone were hazy at best. Suspicious, Reis stuck around, snooping in on their daily activities and eventually discovering that the strangers weren’t native to the country, or even the planet. They’d come from another world entirely, which, as Reis eventually found, was connected to his by some sort of portal.He reasoned that his sister had attempted to steal something from these people, only to be captured in turn, sent to their world. The thief didn’t hesitate to confront one of the people later, demanding that his sister be returned to him. A poor course of action, considering that every single one of the strangers was a mage, and every single one was more than a match for the thief. The group easily subdued Reis, and, recognizing him by his attire and similarity to his sister, opted to dump him into an alternate world as well. Apparently, Reis’s sister had stolen something from them, except she hadn’t been captured in the process. Instead, she’d escaped to some unknown destination via the portal. In the end, they made it so, though not before issuing further punishment for his and his sister’s deeds. To Reis’s dismay, they forced him into a form that he did not recognize, some sort of weak, short, bipedal lizard that the mages called a “kobold”. Call it a True (karmic) Polymorph - the group figured that the creature accurately represented Reis’s true self. The man was a thief, and now, even the lowliest of humans wouldn’t listen to nor respect him for what he was. In the end, though, it was Khada Reis who got the last laugh - as usual. His new form was weaker, but much quicker, and hard to pin down. He eventually broke free of whatever charm they’d had him under, and, rather than running to safety, dove headlong into the portal, determined to track down his sister, kobold or not. Of course, Reis couldn’t leave them without a parting gift - or, rather, without taking one for himself. The thief snagged some of their supplies before making his exit. When Reis surfaced again, he was in Genesaris - centuries after his own time. Though awed by the advanced technology and society, Reis is still set on tracking down his twin - if not for the safety of others, then for her own. How would anyone from such a primitive time fare in this strange new world? Personality Being a thief, there are a few things about Khada Reis that are to be expected. He’s highly alert, always trying to be aware of what’s going on around him. Not to stay out of trouble, though - Reis is more of the type of person that enjoys a good scuffle every now and then. Of course, he’s had to tone down that attitude a bit, ever since his change. Even being a kobold hasn’t deterred Reis from making quick, rash decisions more driven by emotion than logic. He’s usually saved by his canny ability to slip out of most doozies. Usually. Despite Khada’s recklessness, though, he’s got quite the mind. He can figure out most puzzles, and enjoys word games. Working with locks is his favorite thing to do - even when he’s trying to pick them. Reis claims that he’d be a locksmith if he wasn’t a thief. Another one of the thief’s winning factors is his spontaneous attitude. He makes all decisions on the dot, both big and small. Most of his impulses are uncontrolled - Reis really can’t help it, now that he’s a kobold. More specifically, Reis can’t help but snag something shiny or complex-looking. . . Though the kobold isn't exactly unstable, he is a bit twitchy at times. The uncontrollable tics show up whenever he's excited, or angry. Abilities Reis, coming from Earth, has no sort of special magic. He couldn't be bothered to learn any, either. His entire skillset is focused on one thing: Breaking, entering, and stealing, and staying undetected. For starters, Reis is naturally quick and agile, even graceful at times. His short stature and thin body also aid to his acrobatic proficiency. Reis is also fairly street-smart, regardless of what city he's in. After traveling from place to place so much in his childhood, he learned to pick up that kind of intelligence quickly. Of course, Reis's main skill is breaking in and/or stealing things. Lock-picking, pick-pocketing, and code-breaking are all skills of his, and he uses them frequently. As a result of being a kobold, Reis also has the ability to see in the dark, unlike most other races. The thief also picked up digging as a useful skill during his travels on Earth, a skill he can utilize even better as a small creature. Weaknesses Despite all this, Reis has a few obvious weaknesses (and a few that aren't so obvious). For starters, Reis is naturally suspicious of everybody he meets, regardless of who they are. Unless you're Reis's sister, it'll take a bit for him to begin to trust you. This could be seen as more of a strength for some, but, in truth, it prevents the thief from working well with others in the beginning. Another one of his problems is his drive to repay debts, no matter the cost. Once Reis's respect is earned, or a deed is done in his name, his loyalty is absolute to a fault. The kobold would do anything to repay - or aid - allies or friends who have helped him in the past. It is the reason Reis has come all this way for his sister, after all. His sister helped him through his childhood, so Reis is driven to find her and keep her safe, no matter the cost. Self-sacrifice for the good of many doesn't suit the thief, but he'd gladly forfeit his life for friends or family. Another obvious weakness is his lack of physical power. Reis is weak, even by kobold standards. He can't wear much more than padded leather armor, and using swords or other medium weapons are a thing of the past. Want some heavy-lifting done? Don't call Reis. The door is stuck and needs to be opened? Better go through the window. Arm-wrestling? Reis will just cheat. In exchange for speed and grace, Reis has little to no physical power at his disposal. Khada Reis is also rather touchy when it comes to his friends. You can insult him all you like, but one insult directed towards anybody he considers a friend will likely leave you with a dagger somewhere impolite. Last, but not least, Reis was always a sucker for attractive folk. It plagued him back on Earth, and it plagues him today, though not as much. Anyone with a pleasing face and honeyed words will put Reis off his guard, though such a happening is usually never acted upon, in Reis's experience. Besides, who would charm a kobold? Special Gear Reis doesn't have much in the way of magical items. Next to nothing, to be exact. All he has are some thieve's tools and a couple unique items at his disposal. Grappling Hook: Yoinked from the mages unfortunate enough to have transported Reis to Valucre in the first place. Found among the many pieces of equipment the wanderers had at their disposal, this item is used mainly to get Reis into places normally unreachable by conventional means. For instance, a high windowsill. Power Drill: This drill doesn't run on electricity - it's powered by a small crystal located within the gadget's inner machinations. The drill was built for a machine - as a result, Reis has a difficult time using it the way it was meant to be used. Still, while it's relatively small in general, Reis "modified" (broke) it so that it could be used as a gauntlet digger, capable of digging through several feet of stone in an hour. It's also good for bludgeoning idiots in a pinch. Appearance
  13.  Cerys Adrastae ╔════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗  тʜe вasɪϲs: Height: 5’9” Body Type: Curvy  Age: Unknown & Unrecorded Gender: Female Job/Role/Title: Court Enchantress of House Morlog Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Unknown & Unrecorded Scars/Tattoos: None Revealed Species: Human  Powers and Abilites: A dedicated student of magic, Cerys holds a dark communion with forces untamed.
  14. Image found on Pinterest - unable to attribute source location. you are no myth unless i choose to speak. i breathed those ashes secretly. heroes alone destroy, as i destroy you. know now that i am the roses and it is of them i choose to speak. -- frank o’hara, from the collected poems; “how roses get black" ___________________________ plot Oakpeak July 1870 Randolph Bluford, former postmaster of Oakpeak, stands under three indictments for forgery. Prior to his life in Oakpeak, he had been arrested three times in Cincinnati, Ohio for getting money under false pretenses, once in Texas for robbery, and twice in Kentucky for theft. In Oakpeak, he stole a money order and abstracted letters from the mail before he had been in office a year. His crimes in Ohio, Texas, and Kentucky also leave him indebted. It is estimated that Bluford also owes debts of $30,000 on various promissory notes to individuals in Kentucky. Bluford is now awaiting trial in his hometown of Cincinnati. Esme Murdok, post clerk has been appointed to take his place as postmaster. ___________________________ vitals full name: Esme Hyacinth Murdok alias: n/a nicknames: Essie (close friends and relatives) location (place of birth): Oakpeak location (current): Oatpeak date of birth: August 18 age: 30 blood type: A+ species: Human sexual orientation: Heterosexual occupation: - Postmaster (July 1870-present) - Post Clerk (January 1865 - July 1870) ___________________________ physical eye color: Brown hair: Black, long, natural curl height: 5'3" weight: 130 pounds ___________________________ relationships Raymond Murdok, father (living) Elsie Murdok, mother (living) Ada Yates nee Murdok, sister (living) Clara Haas Murdok, sister (living) Archibald "Archie" Murdok, brother (living) Percival "Percy" Murdok, brother (living) Randolph Buford, former boss on trail for fraud (living) Other relationships forthcoming—pending threads. ___________________________ personality personality type: ISFP, the adventurer personality strengths: charming, sensitive to others, imaginative, passionate, curious, artistic personality weaknesses: fiercely independent, unpredictable, easily stressed, overly competitive, fluctuating self-esteem personality (expanded): - romantic relationships: while esme may be difficult to get to know, she will spend a lot of time focusing on her partner. once she is accepted for who she is, she can prove to be a warm, enthusiastic significant other. - friendships: comfortable to be around and easy to talk to, esme is also quite laid back and spontaneous. she is fascinated by the present day, be it the news of the day or the talk of tomorrow. she loves spending time with friends and acquaintances. always happy to return favors, once esme finds friends she trusts, she favors simply enjoying herself and their company. - enemies: those who wish to lecture on how esme is living her life or those who may see her unfit for her unconventional job as postmaster will not get along with esme. - parenthood: esme's natural warmth, practicality, and relaxed nature may help her settle in and appreciate the happiness and challenges that comes with raising children. - work: creative freedom is at the core of esme's work-life. with her new job as postmaster, she is keen on carving her own path and experimenting in a role traditionally occupied by a man. ___________________________ misc creation date: august 2019 genre: historical/realism (western) character sheet design: shannon ___________________________ threads forthcoming.
  15. V.C.F Special Agents Level [3] Clearance. . . [Accepted] Special Agents are assigned to conduct special missions or to lead FSTF and MTF [See Mobile Task Force]. Special agents are recruited from the best of the MTF and FSTF level agents [Who are already the best of the the regular security and research personel] and are paramount to the security of the Foundation. They answer directly to level-5 Administrators and are allowed to have level 4 clearance on any and all Foundation databases. There are currently. . . [2] profiles to review.
  16. Kalleth Tzreera The Rose of Darkbriar Theme The dark elves still make their home hidden among the wild and dark places of Valucre, living secluded lives and shutting out the world around them, as they have for centuries since their resolution to separate themselves from the madness they perceived in their surroundings. But every now and then, a dissenter leaves the secluded lands they once called home. Kalleth Tzreera of the mysterious village of Darkbriar just so happens to be one of them. A century old, but barely a young adult to his elven kin, Kalleth lives in a world that partially regards him with curiosity, and partially with fear. His people are known for dark rituals, perhaps unrightfully so. It was the actions of one particularly loathsome cult of these dark elves, which nearly wiped out an entire town for the purpose of sacrificial rites, that stained the reputation of the entire, reclusive race. Many years later, the entire species still bears the burden of the sins that were never truly theirs. Though they are creatures of shadow and magic, they are not inherently evil, often content to live long, yet somehow fleeting existences on the outskirts of the world, keeping to themselves. Kalleth Tzreera, a particularly stubborn boy in his youth, wasn't enjoying this demure existence that he had been brought into. He ended up leaving as soon as he was ready...though to do what, he wasn't entirely sure. Until he found his calling. Until he understood just what his heart hungered for after he had saved the life of some mayor's daughter he had forgotten the name of. That recognition he had received in return fulfilled him. It was something he was often denied at home, that he often sought for with his various antics, just someone hearing and acknowledging the simple declaration of his soul: I AM. Now, he wanted the world to hear that declaration. He would not allow his existence to fade quietly into the night. Somehow, someway, his name would be on the tongue of every man and woman and beast that called Valucre home. His image would be in the darkest fantasies of its dreamers, and at the tip of the pen of every artist and writer. The world would be at his feet out of its own free will. And it'd be loving every second of it. Pesonality: Kalleth is a narcissistic anti-hero at his core. Though he possesses some empathy and morals, he is ultimately quite selfish. What he does for the forces of good is simply to make himself look good. And while he is not bloodthirsty or murderous, he also doesn't care who he hurts in the process of fulfilling his desires. He's also quite flirtatious with pretty much any being that strikes his fancy, both male and female. Such trysts are often a product of lust only, however, as he has not yet found anyone he truly loves. While he doesn't seem worthy of it, surprisingly, all Kalleth truly wants is love in any form, romantic or platonic. His selfish desires stem from this one need, this one thing that he was deprived of whilst living with the emotionally-repressed denizens of Darkbriar, especially since among the dark elves, family is a near-nonexistent structure. Though his Byronic pride leaves Kalleth refusing to admit it up front to most. Abilities: Talented Swordsman: Kalleth prefers the use of his rapier over any other weapon, as its swift strikes can make mincemeat of the slow and unwary. He wishes to emulate the swashbuckling heroes he had read about in books of epic tales that he had smuggled into Darkbriar during his youth. Decent Shot: He can work with crossbows or magitech pistols, though the latter he has little experience with and currently does not carry any. Just a Touch of Magic: Kalleth knows some magic, both from training innate elven abilities at home, while picking up useful enchantments and evocations here and there during his travels. With a combination of innate ability and a magical trinket or two, he has command over small-scale illusions, shadow, and elemental manipulation, which he mainly uses to disguise himself, skulk around, or aid himself in combat when needed. Spry: He's an acrobatic sort, learned from his training as a child to be a ranger-guard of sorts for Darkbriar. Whether clearing gaps between rooftops or running through a forest at night, he's quite agile. Charismatic: Turning on the charm isn't just a skill for Kalleth, it's a pastime. Weaknesses: Low Stamina: It's hard for him to take much of a beating, so he prefers to fight evasively if he's outnumbered or outmatched. Immature: He can be led astray with ease, as though he is a century old, he has the mentality of a 20 something and the worldly experience of a toddler, as he has spent most of his days in Darkbriar. Lack of Foresight: Kalleth lives in the now. Which means that whatever risks his actions have now that might impact the future, he pays them little regard. Racial Stigma: Some older fellows in Valucre still remember the uproar the dark elves once caused, and treat them with disdain accordingly, mainly in Terrenus where the aforementioned sacrifice cult was once routed. It has given Kalleth a "me vs the world" mentality, and any jabs at his ancestry will probably get him fuming. Dark Desires: To acquire fame, many choose to first acquire power. Though the power aspect is not necessarily on Kalleth's radar quite yet, he's certainly found some tempting leads on some very interesting, and probably very corrupt, magical artifacts that could help him on his quest. (Cheeky drow boi that could be a hero or a villain, depending on how his story unfolds. Based on about 70-80% of an old DnD character of mine that unfortunately got perma-killed before I had a chance to explore his story further, that I may or may not have an unhealthy affinity for RPing as since I pretty much spent a year in his shoes <.<)
  17. "There's not a trinket or an enchantment I can't get my hands on."
  18. "The shadows are my refuge, for I have long since been unworthy of being in the light."
  19. Elias Nevidri [ basics ] Aliases: Iskultor, Elon Nevid Race: Human Marital Status: Single Gender: Male Age: 29 Occupation: Freelance Flesh-Shaper [ physical ] Elias stands at six feet, three inches and has a lithe, wiry build. His complexion is sallow, with his hair a sooty black. His eyes are pale, though on closer inspection one would note that they carry a pinkish hue, and are luminescent in the dark. He wears a pair of glasses. Across his body are numerous wounds (both healed and unhealed) stretching across his back, shoulders, and neck. The thickest clusters of scars are above his spine. [ mental ] Temperament: Phlegmatic Demeanor: Indifferent, dismissive, condescending, cynical, facetious Likes: Knowledge, Art, Flesh-shaping, science (especially biology, zoology, and neurology) Dislikes: Close-mindedness, people with no appreciation for art Goals: Find a stable job Gain enough funding to pursue his personal Flesh-Shaping projects [ abilities ] FLESH-SHAPING Elias is a Flesh-Shaper, skilled in the raw, painful art of sculpting and molding creatures according to the designs of his clients. He was once one of the trailblazers in the field of Flesh-shaping in Genesaris, up until Whispernight, whereupon he left his home and began wandering the continent, taking on whatever jobs his skill afforded him. Elias can make simple, cosmetic changes in flesh quickly, such as healing wounds or reducing adipose tissue. However, he prefers working with the deeper, underlying structures of creatures, working from the inside out. This deeper Shaping takes more time, with “projects” taking anywhere from days to months to complete. Elias isn't limited to arcane knowledge alone; he often integrates magitech (or sometimes, simply technology) in his methods of Flesh-Shaping. He can manifest his power in organic matter, allowing him to create nodes of matter that can affect his subjects without his direct influence.
  20. Yau is a fifteen year-old magitech prodigy with a knack for problem-solving and inferential data-gathering. Orphaned at birth, Yau has lived in Tia most her life, using her tech to conduct heists while avoiding the authorities. She has recently been put in the care of Dr. Carina Gomez of Taen. Inventor Name Calabi Yau Maksur Kohler Gender Female Race Human Age 15 Height 5' Weight 105 lbs Build gangly Eyes violet Hair pale orange, curly Skin tan Roles ∟magitech prodigy Abilities ∟pericognition ∟magitech engineering History | Image gallery Attire —a black, sleeveless shirt — an oversized, worn leather jacket — jeans — greyish boots Equipment — a broken gauntlet of foreign, amorphous metal that can change its shape at will, transforming into different tools. — Midstep boots, a pair of grey boots that uses Nth and other materials to allow Yau to take steps in midair and change her orientation, anchoring herself to non-horizontal surfaces. Personality — Puzzle-solver - Yau loves solving puzzles and finding solutions to problems — Talkative and cheerful, Yau speaks her mind constantly, at all times, with little pause. — Free-spirited as she is, Yau has a habit of testing rules and boundaries. She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, though her frequent absences make Carina worry.
  21. Csl

    Dr. Carina Gomez

    Carina is a Taen-based researcher with multiple fields of expertise, specializing in environmental science. She now works as part of Lunaris’ local government and does field research on various locations in her spare time. She is the author of most of the documentation on Taen. Transcriber Name Dr. Carina O. Gomez Gender Female Race Human Age 32 Height 5'5" Weight 110 lbs Build slim, birdlike pale aquamarine, almond-shaped Hair white streaked with brown, short, spiky Skin Dark Brown Roles ∟Taen-Mork’Outh liason ∟Head of the Khartes Taen Exploration Committee (TEC) Abilities ∟eidokinetic wing manifestation ∟parachronal cognition History | Image gallery Attire — plain white t-shirt — sleeveless vest with plenty of pockets — black pants — utility belt — hiking boots Equipment — Gyrum, a pair of fingerless gloves made of multiple moving pieces of lightweight, amorphous metal, capable of transforming into different tools (a small taser, claws, two daggers, and a holo-screen projector for a tiny Crook-enabled crystal computer embedded within. Created by Yau Maksur — a pair of wraparound glasses that reduce glare, and protect her eyes when flying. Also has night vision. Usual Inventory (contained in a worn traveller’s backpack) — Two notebooks — A water jug with a 2L capacity — A first aid kit, kept carefully restocked — A hunting knife — A small dagger imbued with worldrift energy Personality —A scientist at heart, Carina is deeply passionate about understanding the world around her - especially in the fields of biology and ecology. She is adamant about documenting nearly everything she observes, including natural phenomena, cultural practices, and historical events, and is rarely found without some sort of information-recording device —Pragmatic, no-nonsense, and blunt. Dr. Gomez's sharp tongue and snark more than make up for her unintimidating physique. Carina is often irritated by ignorance and carelessness, especially when concerned with the environment, and will not hesitate to reprimand any she finds at fault. —The only sane woman in a world full of men who think with their swords, all too eager to jump into a fight at a moment’s notice. Carina holds a particular dislike for reckless adventurers who, upon encountering any vaguely intimidating creature, decide the best course of action is stabbing it. Skills and abilities — Flight. Ranges from long leaps to high-speed aerial travel. One can often faintly see a multitude of white, incorporeal wings protruding from her back. — Enhanced Sight. Carina’s eyesight is about eight times stronger than the average human vision. However, her vision is extremely poor at night. Notes — Lives in Lunaris, Taen — Significant other is Sebastian Heiliger, Governor of Lunaris
  22. Ouros Lügoff The Azure Alchemist Age: 38. He thinks, anyways. There are more important things to keep track of than birthdays. Height: 6'2" Weight: 175 lbs Race: Human, at first. His original form has been lost to the effects, both intentional and unintentional, of ceaseless experimentation and study. Gender: Male Birthplace: Somewhere in Terrenus? Occupation: Scientist, specializing in the study of draconic magic, and the practical applications of traditional chemistry and alchemy. Personality: Ouros is a man of science, through and through. Driven by an uncanny fascination with dragons and the magical essence that fuels them, he has dedicated his life to understanding the beasts and applying his knowledge in various fields, especially alchemy. He is stupidly fearless in this regard, and when in the pursuit of a new discovery, nothing beyond death itself can stop him. However, he is also a benevolent soul at heart, and refrains from stepping over others while attempting to reach his goals. If anything, he hopes his work will ultimately make the world a better place. While most half-crazed sciency-type folk seem to prefer to spend their time cooped up in their personal laboratories, Ouros is instead quite gregarious with others and open about his work. Unperturbed by the effects that various potions, tinctures, fumes, and spells have had on his physical and mental state, he seeks out the company of others consistently, and relishes conversations with contemporaries, or really anyone with a novel perspective on magic or nature. However, at times he is oblivious to the effect his unbridled enthusiasm for arcane science and the strangeness of his presence can have on people, and he can often come across as verbose or overbearing. With such mental fortitude focused towards intellectual pursuits, his emotional control is somewhat stunted as well; Ouros is prone to intense mood swings that can be triggered at the slightest obstacle in his path, or whiff of success, that he might encounter. It's also worth mentioning that he's a bit of a pyromaniac; if he could find a city block entirely devoid of historical significance or innocent civilians, he would probably devote hours to blowing it up just for the joy of it. For the moment, however, he confines this secondary obsession to self-defense, using volatile potions and evocations to protect his well-being when necessary. History: (WIP). Ouros' early history is rather unremarkable, carrying very little hints that could possibly predict the obsession that would eventually define him. Beyond an aptitude for magic and the sciences, which his parents had always encouraged him to follow, he was initially a quiet and entirely mundane child. As he grew older, however, eventually beginning his advanced studies in arcane chemistry and biology, he began to drift away from this past version of himself. During breaks in Ouros' schooling, when he would visit his family, his parents and siblings noticed all-too noticeable changes in him. The once silent boy had begun taking over conversations with descriptions of his work, interspersing arcane technobabble with musings on subjects he found fascinating...subjects which often had no correlation to what was originally being talked about. His skin was taking on a pallid, blue hue as well, and his head gradually became more and more misshapen every time he came home. Ultimately, he became the hybridized freakshow that he is now. And after finally fully understanding the distress his transformation had caused to his family, he cut them out of his life entirely, much to his later chagrin. But he still carried on with his work, as he does today, contracting his expertise out to any reputable employer that will pay to sustain his independent research. Abilities/Strengths: Scientific Mind: Ouros can pursue concepts that interest him with dogged persistence and incredible attention to detail. Scaly Hide: Though Ouros' transformation has so far been largely cosmetic, the scales that have taken over his skin have proven to be somewhat resistant to caustic chemicals: a rather useful boon when your life's work happens to include working around them 24/7. Alchemical Adept: Ouros has found his studies of dragons to be most compatible with potion-crafting. He specializes in using various parts of magical creatures to concoct mixtures with varying effects, though he can substitute ingredients and improvise in a pinch. Given enough time and resources, he can create incredibly useful or dangerous concoctions. Novice Evoker: Ouros, not being a rough-and-tumble type, has studied magic for the purpose of self-defense here and there. Conjuring icy shards, small fireballs, and weak barriers are among his small repertoire of combat-oriented magic. Weaknesses: Moody: It's very easy to push Ouros' buttons, and manipulating his mood for better or worse takes minimal effort. Somewhat Monstrous: Though his mental faculties are (mostly) intact, his outward appearance lies in an uncanny valley of sorts. He looks nothing like a human, but also not quite like a natural-born half-dragon either. Please Don't Hit Me: Close-quarters-combat is the last thing Ouros ever wants to experience. Though he owns a crossbow to defend his laboratory, and carries a small dagger on his person for self-defense, anyone with a modicum of martial arts training could whoop his behind with ease. Obsessed: His determination is a double-edged sword; it is hard to sway him when Ouros has set out to find or discover something, and not even the risk of death keeps him from his path. To those unfamiliar with him, he can even seem suicidal. (Profile is WIP, just wanted to put something up to have a general character for an RP ready)
  23. Name: Bretakollr (Breh-Tah-Kohl-Ehr) Age: 215 Valucre Years Height: 7'2 Weight: 250 lbs Languages Known: Common (Valucre), Hrothgar, Planespeak Race: Lionkin/Offworlder Description: Bretakollr is a tall, musclebound and fur-covered lionkin with a dark complexion, luminous golden eyes and rich brown fur. Her facial features are flat, and somewhat square, but altogether slender and sleek, her ears peeking out from her long, curled hair. She has a tail, about 4 feet in length, and instead of feet and legs, she has feline paws and ankles, slowly turning into more humanoid physiology as it travels higher up her figure. She has broad hips and a wide frame, but is trim and muscular besides. Bretakollr takes excellent care of her hair and skin, but is quite scarred along her body and legs besides. She brushes often, and her teeth gleam white at all times. Job: Planescaster As a planescaster, Bretakollr is a wandering vagrant from other worlds, travelling along in search of great sources of power. Planescasters seek powerful beings and beasts, in an effort to ensnare a piece of their soul, make a copy and take it with them. Later, they may invoke the power retained from these beings as 'summons', using an element of that being's great strength in order to support their causes. Planescasters in other realms are known to wage wars summoning great warriors, infusing them with the might and spirit of the monsters they've met. Bretakollr herself claims that she walks the planes in search of beings that have the potential to upset the planes. What she does with this power, when collected is, as of yet, undisclosed. Planescasters generally cannot wield their planescasting alone in combat, and typically rely on other forms of combat and defense to keep themselves safe as they travel. Bretakollr prefers wielding a short staff in defense, but also has proven proficient with swords--even dual wielding single-edged swords in her lifetime. Bretakollr disapproves of using her talents for her own ends, and rarely, if at all calls upon any of her ensnared champions to help her. Bretakollr is also a proficient alchemist, and has spent a fair bit of her time studying various chemicals and plants, and their uses in other planes, developing rapid, simplistic means of identifying and utilizing newfound herbs and materials for healing draughts, meals and potions. She's enthusiastic about learning more, and often visits potion shops, tea stores and alchemists in major cities in her free time. Personality: Bretakollr is a very extroverted, yet reserved individual, speaking few words, and listening to many in exchange. She often gets bored when asked to speak of herself, having told the same thing to many people over many years, over and over again, to the point where she only refers to herself as 'Bretakollr' when introducing herself. She's forward with her feelings, and careful not to tread on other people's feet. She has a fair sense of humor, and distrusts cowardly people. Bretakollr rarely confronts people about their problems, preferring instead to keep out of people's business where possible. History: Bretakollr was born into a family of what might be called Lionkin, on another planet--another planet, largely populated by beastmen tribes, and higher beasts. In the plane of Wrystmyr, beastmen tribes descended from powerful beasts, who were the original animals that ruled the lands. These higher beasts were revered not as gods, necessarily, but as champions of the plane. Their grand combats would help define the borders and territories of their followers, who in turn would use their land, customs and civilizations to honor these great beings. Bretakollr, born to the lion kind, honored the great lion deity, and with the rest of their tribe focused on refining combat and defeating other tribesman in order to pay tribute to their god. Bretakollr, during one such grand combat, encountered the long-dead remains of an otherworldly being--a dead warrior, from the looks of things. Upon approaching it, several champions from other realms, imbued with the force of the planescaster attacked her. She unsuccessfully fended them off, but survived her encounter. Seemingly approving of her tenacity, she was able to approach the body a second time, and claimed the fallen planescaster's soul, passing on the role of planescaster to her. With her new, finer talents, Bretakollr quickly decided to use her grand abilities to honor her deity in combat, and found swift success on the battle front. However,in time she learned that her efforts quickly surpassed what should have been possible for one being to do, and her strength began to grow blasphemous. Out of love for her clan, she left home, seeking the great lion deity in person to confront him with the knowledge she'd found. Upon leaving her tribe, however, Bretakollr realized that she had stepped into another realm. Unable to determine how she'd done such a thing, Bretakollr was forced to begin anew in another plane. Still a talented warrior, her efforts weren't in vain, and she found work as a mercenary for a time, working for several years before realizing that she had stopped aging as swiftly as she should have been. Perturbed, Bretakollr retired, and wandered the plane, looking for answers, before accidentally stepping into another plane. Bretakollr's story is that of plane-hopping, slowly coming to grips with her abilities, and claiming new ones as she learns the new rules of each society. In her time, Breta has mothered several children, accidentally moving her lionkin blood from plane to plane as she does so. While in most cases, Breta has been successful in raising these children before plane hopping, Breta had been forced to leave some behind quite early. Bretakollr is sympathetic by nature, and quite fond of children of all ages, sporting a motherly attitude. She's quick-witted, sensible and slow to anger, having lived long enough to get bored with conflict and contest. Breta considers herself to be pansexual, having had many partners of different sexes in her lifetime. Equipment: Bretakollr's attire typically changes from plane to plane, as she gets bored or conscious of one costume, dumping it for another. Her current uniform is a heavily modified sailor's attire, with a loose, billowing skirt, heavy boots, a loose blouse and a tight leather corset over that. Her clothes are lightweight and casual, and don't bring much attention to her as she travels. She wears heavy jewelry on her neck, ears, wrists and fingers, and often keeps jewelry from all planes wherever she goes. As far as weapons go, Bretakollr's favored weapon is a short staff made of an ornate metal, which is actually two short swords combined at the hilts. These swords are turned inward, but can be spun outward then disconnected to serve as bladed weapons. Often time, Bretakollr prefers using the staff, or even her fists if she has to solve a problem. Bretakollr carries many of her belongings in small leather pouches attached to her hips and thighs on small garters and belts. She rarely carries more than a pocketful of money, and the rest of it is usually herbs, potions and random keepsakes.
  24. "The art of the Rune priest isn't just scribing words of power, it's working with the very foundations of creation itself."
  25. "The spirits guide me, protect me, and for that, I am their vengeance."
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