index
int64 0
56.6k
| thread_id
int64 0
1.54k
| message_id
int64 0
752
| author_id
int64 0
2.81k
| author_num_posts
int64 2
36k
| message
stringlengths 0
134k
| character
stringlengths 0
110k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
9,800 | 271 | 13 | 1,551 | 217 | SQUAW! (_Hear hear!_) Sheeva agreed with the lady paladin, with a quick flap of her wings for added support. If someone would've given the word in that brief moment, she would've took off right for the guy. "Now now Sheev, no need to be out for blood just yet." Lamont calmed her to the best of his ability. "But yeah, I agree. I mean, the guy didn't outright attack us, which is why I doubted Sheeva. But if he is truly undead...then...well..." He overlooked the options. He honestly didn't feel prepared to take a life so maliciously. But, choices had to be made. "...Yeah. I'm with you, Lady Paladin. If it has to be done...if we have to fight, then i'll fight." He replied with hesitation. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,801 | 271 | 14 | 501 | 259 | We'll wait for him to come back, if it takes longer than an hour I'll track him down. Korick announced hoping to end the discussion before people started sharpening stakes. If Larris was undead then he couldn't simply let him walk away, there was still a chance one of his letters had been intercepted by those who were working with the devils and sent a double agent, though certainly they'd try harder than that. When they reached the fire pit he was glad to see Vis already had a fire going, even though it was the middle of summer the recent storm and lake air kept this place unseasonable cool. As he found himself a place to sit, Beth lay herself behind him allowing Korick to rest his back on her flank. He retrieved his pipe and began reloading the bowl, as he asked a question to take peoples minds off of Larris, "So how have you found the roads? I haven't been out of the moors for a few months." | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,802 | 271 | 15 | 1,551 | 217 | Vis' kept his eyes on the fire, listening to the conversations around him and trying to pick up bits and bobs that might be useful. "tha roadth have been fairly quiet," he said, chastising himself internally about his voice, "but all it taketh ith one perthon to ruin your day." he brushed his Gand over his tattered left ear and smoothing his hair back afterwards. Vis adjusted his scarf so that it wouldn't fall off of his face, he found the missing chunk of cheek unpleasant and so would others. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,803 | 271 | 16 | 752 | 2,268 | Larris eventually rejoined the group around the fire and sat a good distance away from the fire but close enough to the group to hear stories, there was a time he would of felt the warmth of the fire or the bitterness of the cold but now that was a distant memory, he needed to tell them about what he was, he already suspected at least the hawk was onto him but he kept quiet perhaps by nightfall when his amulet was working he could pass it off as just the swamp.
He sighed audibly and look down avoiding eye contact with his companions, he made up his mind to try to avoid telling them if at all possible. If they came to the conclusion on their own means he would tell them, but he didn't expect them to show him any mercy if anything he probably wouldn't be leaving here intact. *"Feed."* The voice said, it was weak almost like it was fading but still the urge was strong enough like a ravenous beast that had been caged for to long. *"I have to maintain control At least until i part with them."* Larris thought, shifting uncomfortably Larris spoke. "So i know the halflings name, but i don't recall the rest of you telling me yours may i know them?" | Name: Larris Milner
Age: 26
Race: Human/Undead
Class: Paladin
Abilities: As a former warrior Larris is well versed in many weapons including the bow and sword. But with the sword and his fists Larris shines and there are few who are his equal, he used to have holy abilities granted to him by his god Illmater but lately those powers have abandoned him in his current state, as a member of the Companions of the Noble Heart he has gained a bit of skill within a few other things such as tracking.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: !( "Larris")
Height is 6'2 and weight is 195 lbs (in plate)
Personality: Larris as of late has become somewhat of a withdrawn man, he doesn't say much and he seems broken as if fighting a internal struggle that no one seems to know about. But he still abides by his code as a paladin and is goes out of his way to help people who are suffering and in danger even if he has to put himself in harms way. In his current state he is in a constant need to feed on the flesh of the living, his soul is still within it's vessel but the more he resists the more it seems to pull away from him. It has gotten to the point where it affects him physically by slowing him down and making him paranoid.
Inventory: He keeps a beautiful master crafted longsword with him at all times as it was a gift from his family and it seems to be the only thing holding him together, his armor is well made and very ordnate with with the bound hands of Illamter upon his breastplate just above his heart also wrapped around his gauntlets is red twine, perhaps the most important feature is his full face helmet which he wears during the day and takes off during the night, he is also oddly possessive of an amulet that he keeps with him at all times and never takes off.
Brief History: Born to a noble family, Larris grew up to the politics and squabbling of noble families and the court and he hated it. So as soon as he could he left home and set out for a life of adventure, nobody except him knows how he joined the clergy of Illamater but he joined as a paladin and became quite the paladin. Eventually upon his 18th birthday he found a place within the Companions.
Within the companions Larris went far and wide hunting down any who brought pain and suffering to the people with a vengeance, eventually as he grew older he slowed down and he decided to settle in a small village and protect the church of Illamater that was to spring up there. But things changed and a necromancer besieged the village and killed everyone within including Larris, but then Larris didn't stay dead for long instead he was brought back as a slave to the necromancer but stubbornly his soul held on to his mortal vessel and he wasn't quite enslaved fully and he escaped the necromancer to wander.
Eventually Larris found an enchanter and upon explain his plight to the man he made the fallen paladin a amulet that during the night would disguise him in his normal form, but during the day he shifted into his usual undead form. After his meeting with the enchanter he pointed Larris to a town beset by a devil. Armed with his new amulet and the knowledge of what was going on in that town Larris set out to continue his duty as a paladin and save those in need.
Notes: As a card carrying member of the nonliving Larris is:
- Affected by turn undead, detect undead, and other spells that can sense or harm the undead
- suffers a crippling need to feast upon living things
- Animals react like there is a member of the undead nearby, so a paladins charger might get flighty with him while others might bolt
- His magic no longer has any use and will not work for him.
- During the day one can detect the faint scent of rotting from him but also during the day it is heavily covered
- And finally He does not need to sleep, eat, or see. He does not get tired from running and jogging everywhere, he's able to shrug off a variety of wounds moreso than a usual paladian anyways, and he doesn't get sick. |
9,804 | 271 | 17 | 74 | 48 | Markul looked at the group with interest for there were many different people here, the Warforged was of especial interest to Markul, and though the discussion of the the knight was somewhat disquieting, he knew that even those who were often marked for ill could bring great good. He knew of quite a few instances where those who most would have called evil were given a chance to good and had taken it.
The knight returned from his walk, and then requested for an introduction from everyone. Markul stood and nodded, "I am Markul Ferrn," he said loud enough so all could here, "if you wish you may call me Mark, it makes little difference to me. I am a wizard who specializes in evocation." he sat back down. A little brusque perhaps, but it needn't be anything else. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,805 | 271 | 18 | 501 | 259 | Lily Beckett, Knight of the Order of the Triad and Paladin of Torm. She said to the other warrior, her voice cold and her eyes locked on him. "Show your face, warrior. You bear the symbol of Ilmater, but I sense none of his light on you. Only black magic." She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. "How came you by Korick's message?" | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,806 | 271 | 19 | 752 | 2,268 | Vith, Vis lisped, "Vith Thtarkweather." by this point his frustration had become so intense he was numb and didn't really care for the sound of his voice, instead he adjusted his scarf once more, wary about it falling off and showing his scar. Digging into his bag to find a distraction, he pulled out the child's encyclopedia, his mother had given it to him before he left so he could practice reading, though he hadn't touched it in a while, he'd rather read than try and fail at talking.
Vis opened it up on a random page and started reading, slowly forming the letters ok the page into words in his mind, occasionally mumbling some of the harder ones. Incidentally, as he was reading his bag had fallen over and some of his gear had tumbled out onto the floor, among them his teddy. He reached for it, hoping no one would notice it. | Name: Larris Milner
Age: 26
Race: Human/Undead
Class: Paladin
Abilities: As a former warrior Larris is well versed in many weapons including the bow and sword. But with the sword and his fists Larris shines and there are few who are his equal, he used to have holy abilities granted to him by his god Illmater but lately those powers have abandoned him in his current state, as a member of the Companions of the Noble Heart he has gained a bit of skill within a few other things such as tracking.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: !( "Larris")
Height is 6'2 and weight is 195 lbs (in plate)
Personality: Larris as of late has become somewhat of a withdrawn man, he doesn't say much and he seems broken as if fighting a internal struggle that no one seems to know about. But he still abides by his code as a paladin and is goes out of his way to help people who are suffering and in danger even if he has to put himself in harms way. In his current state he is in a constant need to feed on the flesh of the living, his soul is still within it's vessel but the more he resists the more it seems to pull away from him. It has gotten to the point where it affects him physically by slowing him down and making him paranoid.
Inventory: He keeps a beautiful master crafted longsword with him at all times as it was a gift from his family and it seems to be the only thing holding him together, his armor is well made and very ordnate with with the bound hands of Illamter upon his breastplate just above his heart also wrapped around his gauntlets is red twine, perhaps the most important feature is his full face helmet which he wears during the day and takes off during the night, he is also oddly possessive of an amulet that he keeps with him at all times and never takes off.
Brief History: Born to a noble family, Larris grew up to the politics and squabbling of noble families and the court and he hated it. So as soon as he could he left home and set out for a life of adventure, nobody except him knows how he joined the clergy of Illamater but he joined as a paladin and became quite the paladin. Eventually upon his 18th birthday he found a place within the Companions.
Within the companions Larris went far and wide hunting down any who brought pain and suffering to the people with a vengeance, eventually as he grew older he slowed down and he decided to settle in a small village and protect the church of Illamater that was to spring up there. But things changed and a necromancer besieged the village and killed everyone within including Larris, but then Larris didn't stay dead for long instead he was brought back as a slave to the necromancer but stubbornly his soul held on to his mortal vessel and he wasn't quite enslaved fully and he escaped the necromancer to wander.
Eventually Larris found an enchanter and upon explain his plight to the man he made the fallen paladin a amulet that during the night would disguise him in his normal form, but during the day he shifted into his usual undead form. After his meeting with the enchanter he pointed Larris to a town beset by a devil. Armed with his new amulet and the knowledge of what was going on in that town Larris set out to continue his duty as a paladin and save those in need.
Notes: As a card carrying member of the nonliving Larris is:
- Affected by turn undead, detect undead, and other spells that can sense or harm the undead
- suffers a crippling need to feast upon living things
- Animals react like there is a member of the undead nearby, so a paladins charger might get flighty with him while others might bolt
- His magic no longer has any use and will not work for him.
- During the day one can detect the faint scent of rotting from him but also during the day it is heavily covered
- And finally He does not need to sleep, eat, or see. He does not get tired from running and jogging everywhere, he's able to shrug off a variety of wounds moreso than a usual paladian anyways, and he doesn't get sick. |
9,807 | 271 | 20 | 501 | 259 | A foul heart can still speak fair words. Explain yourself. She bit off the 'Abomination' at the end of the sentence, but only just. A pale light gathered at her hands as she reflexively prepared the power to repulse and destroy the Dead. She drew it back, holding it at bay. The Warrior wouldn't be revealing himself only to begin combat, not in this situation - he was outnumbered, facing a considerable amount of mystic might, along with her own martial prowess. It might be that he could best them, but by his behavior she doubted it. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,808 | 271 | 21 | 752 | 2,268 | Very Well. Larris said, he looked at both Korick and Lily. "The enchanter you sent the letter to Korick sent me in his place, he does send his apologies but he has a family to care for now and when i left he was quiet happy. He gave me this so i could blend in easier but it only works during the night." He held up the amulet around his neck and handed off the letter to Korick confirming he did indeed get it from the enchanter but he could of very well of stolen it but the odds of having a specifically designed amulet just for him were slim so they would have to believe him at least he hoped they believed him. "Now can we all put the weapons away, if i wished to have killed you i could of taken you all by surprise as soon as i gotten off the boat or dragged you into the water and drowned you. I might not of killed all of you but if I was the shambling dead we all know so very well, you know i wouldn't of thought of anything beyond my hunger." He stated quite flatly | Name: Larris Milner
Age: 26
Race: Human/Undead
Class: Paladin
Abilities: As a former warrior Larris is well versed in many weapons including the bow and sword. But with the sword and his fists Larris shines and there are few who are his equal, he used to have holy abilities granted to him by his god Illmater but lately those powers have abandoned him in his current state, as a member of the Companions of the Noble Heart he has gained a bit of skill within a few other things such as tracking.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: !( "Larris")
Height is 6'2 and weight is 195 lbs (in plate)
Personality: Larris as of late has become somewhat of a withdrawn man, he doesn't say much and he seems broken as if fighting a internal struggle that no one seems to know about. But he still abides by his code as a paladin and is goes out of his way to help people who are suffering and in danger even if he has to put himself in harms way. In his current state he is in a constant need to feed on the flesh of the living, his soul is still within it's vessel but the more he resists the more it seems to pull away from him. It has gotten to the point where it affects him physically by slowing him down and making him paranoid.
Inventory: He keeps a beautiful master crafted longsword with him at all times as it was a gift from his family and it seems to be the only thing holding him together, his armor is well made and very ordnate with with the bound hands of Illamter upon his breastplate just above his heart also wrapped around his gauntlets is red twine, perhaps the most important feature is his full face helmet which he wears during the day and takes off during the night, he is also oddly possessive of an amulet that he keeps with him at all times and never takes off.
Brief History: Born to a noble family, Larris grew up to the politics and squabbling of noble families and the court and he hated it. So as soon as he could he left home and set out for a life of adventure, nobody except him knows how he joined the clergy of Illamater but he joined as a paladin and became quite the paladin. Eventually upon his 18th birthday he found a place within the Companions.
Within the companions Larris went far and wide hunting down any who brought pain and suffering to the people with a vengeance, eventually as he grew older he slowed down and he decided to settle in a small village and protect the church of Illamater that was to spring up there. But things changed and a necromancer besieged the village and killed everyone within including Larris, but then Larris didn't stay dead for long instead he was brought back as a slave to the necromancer but stubbornly his soul held on to his mortal vessel and he wasn't quite enslaved fully and he escaped the necromancer to wander.
Eventually Larris found an enchanter and upon explain his plight to the man he made the fallen paladin a amulet that during the night would disguise him in his normal form, but during the day he shifted into his usual undead form. After his meeting with the enchanter he pointed Larris to a town beset by a devil. Armed with his new amulet and the knowledge of what was going on in that town Larris set out to continue his duty as a paladin and save those in need.
Notes: As a card carrying member of the nonliving Larris is:
- Affected by turn undead, detect undead, and other spells that can sense or harm the undead
- suffers a crippling need to feast upon living things
- Animals react like there is a member of the undead nearby, so a paladins charger might get flighty with him while others might bolt
- His magic no longer has any use and will not work for him.
- During the day one can detect the faint scent of rotting from him but also during the day it is heavily covered
- And finally He does not need to sleep, eat, or see. He does not get tired from running and jogging everywhere, he's able to shrug off a variety of wounds moreso than a usual paladian anyways, and he doesn't get sick. |
9,809 | 271 | 22 | 74 | 48 | Markul was now very interested in Larris, it was not everyday that you met a corporeal undead that didn't want to eat your face. Well, at least that didn't act on the desire to eat your face. Markul chuckled slightly at his thoughts, then stood also.
"I would also like to know your reasons for joining our company, it is curious to see one such as yourself traveling with a group like us." though he wasn't as hostile as the others, Markul had no wish to be infected by one of the undead. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,810 | 271 | 23 | 1,551 | 217 | Eranah said a brief prayer that all would go well, but as he went on her hope sunk slightly. The mention of hunger was nor exactly comforting, nor the mention of how he could have killed them already. However she wasn't about to write the man off.
"While those last two things aren't the most comforting, you are being honest. It should count for something. Perhaps we might be able to find a way to aid your condition." She offered, wanting to at least help prove he wasn't an immediate danger. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,811 | 271 | 24 | 752 | 2,268 | Questions began to bombard larris left and right demanding to know how he became what he is and how he came here but first he answered the cleric. "I would appreciate that m'lady, I'm sure with your knowledge we can get to the bottom of the issue." He turned to his other companions and answered the next question. "As to why i'm still in possession of my mind, your guess is as good as mine. I decided to settle down and help the clergy of Illmater set up a church within a village that was suffering from a massive blight and a few other problems. Seeing the village as ripe for the pickings a necromancer used her minions to attack and take over the village there wasn't enough of us to put up a defense and they ended up overwhelming us, i killed brothers and sisters, murdered children and their parents. But even then i wasn't enough to put an end to their suffering and i was overwhelmed fell. She brought me back but for some reason she couldn't command me so she fled, i went on the run and found the enchanter to gave me this amulet that disguises me as my old self every night." He finished his story and let the tale linger in the air. | Name: Larris Milner
Age: 26
Race: Human/Undead
Class: Paladin
Abilities: As a former warrior Larris is well versed in many weapons including the bow and sword. But with the sword and his fists Larris shines and there are few who are his equal, he used to have holy abilities granted to him by his god Illmater but lately those powers have abandoned him in his current state, as a member of the Companions of the Noble Heart he has gained a bit of skill within a few other things such as tracking.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: !( "Larris")
Height is 6'2 and weight is 195 lbs (in plate)
Personality: Larris as of late has become somewhat of a withdrawn man, he doesn't say much and he seems broken as if fighting a internal struggle that no one seems to know about. But he still abides by his code as a paladin and is goes out of his way to help people who are suffering and in danger even if he has to put himself in harms way. In his current state he is in a constant need to feed on the flesh of the living, his soul is still within it's vessel but the more he resists the more it seems to pull away from him. It has gotten to the point where it affects him physically by slowing him down and making him paranoid.
Inventory: He keeps a beautiful master crafted longsword with him at all times as it was a gift from his family and it seems to be the only thing holding him together, his armor is well made and very ordnate with with the bound hands of Illamter upon his breastplate just above his heart also wrapped around his gauntlets is red twine, perhaps the most important feature is his full face helmet which he wears during the day and takes off during the night, he is also oddly possessive of an amulet that he keeps with him at all times and never takes off.
Brief History: Born to a noble family, Larris grew up to the politics and squabbling of noble families and the court and he hated it. So as soon as he could he left home and set out for a life of adventure, nobody except him knows how he joined the clergy of Illamater but he joined as a paladin and became quite the paladin. Eventually upon his 18th birthday he found a place within the Companions.
Within the companions Larris went far and wide hunting down any who brought pain and suffering to the people with a vengeance, eventually as he grew older he slowed down and he decided to settle in a small village and protect the church of Illamater that was to spring up there. But things changed and a necromancer besieged the village and killed everyone within including Larris, but then Larris didn't stay dead for long instead he was brought back as a slave to the necromancer but stubbornly his soul held on to his mortal vessel and he wasn't quite enslaved fully and he escaped the necromancer to wander.
Eventually Larris found an enchanter and upon explain his plight to the man he made the fallen paladin a amulet that during the night would disguise him in his normal form, but during the day he shifted into his usual undead form. After his meeting with the enchanter he pointed Larris to a town beset by a devil. Armed with his new amulet and the knowledge of what was going on in that town Larris set out to continue his duty as a paladin and save those in need.
Notes: As a card carrying member of the nonliving Larris is:
- Affected by turn undead, detect undead, and other spells that can sense or harm the undead
- suffers a crippling need to feast upon living things
- Animals react like there is a member of the undead nearby, so a paladins charger might get flighty with him while others might bolt
- His magic no longer has any use and will not work for him.
- During the day one can detect the faint scent of rotting from him but also during the day it is heavily covered
- And finally He does not need to sleep, eat, or see. He does not get tired from running and jogging everywhere, he's able to shrug off a variety of wounds moreso than a usual paladian anyways, and he doesn't get sick. |
9,812 | 271 | 25 | 501 | 259 | Korick listened and let the others pepper Larris with questions while he focused on the letter he was just handed back. It was indeed the one he had sent, bearing not only his seal but also the return seal of the enchanter. However Korick new the man wouldn't be happy with only a mundane reply when a magical alternative was available, his response would not be found in plain ink. He examined the back side of the letter that was blank and found what he was looking for, ten small dots that would have seemed random if one didn't expect to find a cypher. The dots were in the form of a constellation, Vecna's palm, which would be known to both mystics and outdoorsmen. The next part was simply recalling past correspondences and how he had activated a similar spell before. He drew forth his sharpest bodkin and used it to prick his palm gently, then squeezed his fist until a generous drop of blood landed on the page. Instead of staining it, the droplet raced across the page as if following an unseen pen tip, revealing the message the enchanter had hidden with magic.
Korick studied the enchanter's message carefully by the light of the fire. It corroborated Larris's story of staying with them, he gave his opinions of Larris as a good, but troubled man seeking to hold on to his purpose. As well as his failed attempts to reverse the condition, but did mention that he believed a powerful healer could help him. And finally it described how the enchanter sent Larris hoping that if he proved himself to Korick, the ranger would see fit to help him. He took a short puff from his pipe before putting the letter away and questioning Larris.
"The people of the town, the ones you killed, from what were they suffering." Korick asked, now trying to take Larris's measure as a man and not a monster. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,813 | 271 | 26 | 752 | 2,268 | She was torn at the tale told. Pity for the paladin put in such a situation and slight confusion and revulsion at his choices warred within her. She could understand mercy killing, even think of some situations where it was the best or even only choice. This was not one of them.
"Was there no way for them to escape? Stand any chance of survival at all? How could it be that killing them as a necromancer attacked was the best option? How could hastening her likely goal be the best option?" She asked, hoping against hope that there was more to this than simple slaughter in a desperate situation. That perhaps it had been the only way to spare them a slow and painful death before the inevitable occurred. | Name: Larris Milner
Age: 26
Race: Human/Undead
Class: Paladin
Abilities: As a former warrior Larris is well versed in many weapons including the bow and sword. But with the sword and his fists Larris shines and there are few who are his equal, he used to have holy abilities granted to him by his god Illmater but lately those powers have abandoned him in his current state, as a member of the Companions of the Noble Heart he has gained a bit of skill within a few other things such as tracking.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: !( "Larris")
Height is 6'2 and weight is 195 lbs (in plate)
Personality: Larris as of late has become somewhat of a withdrawn man, he doesn't say much and he seems broken as if fighting a internal struggle that no one seems to know about. But he still abides by his code as a paladin and is goes out of his way to help people who are suffering and in danger even if he has to put himself in harms way. In his current state he is in a constant need to feed on the flesh of the living, his soul is still within it's vessel but the more he resists the more it seems to pull away from him. It has gotten to the point where it affects him physically by slowing him down and making him paranoid.
Inventory: He keeps a beautiful master crafted longsword with him at all times as it was a gift from his family and it seems to be the only thing holding him together, his armor is well made and very ordnate with with the bound hands of Illamter upon his breastplate just above his heart also wrapped around his gauntlets is red twine, perhaps the most important feature is his full face helmet which he wears during the day and takes off during the night, he is also oddly possessive of an amulet that he keeps with him at all times and never takes off.
Brief History: Born to a noble family, Larris grew up to the politics and squabbling of noble families and the court and he hated it. So as soon as he could he left home and set out for a life of adventure, nobody except him knows how he joined the clergy of Illamater but he joined as a paladin and became quite the paladin. Eventually upon his 18th birthday he found a place within the Companions.
Within the companions Larris went far and wide hunting down any who brought pain and suffering to the people with a vengeance, eventually as he grew older he slowed down and he decided to settle in a small village and protect the church of Illamater that was to spring up there. But things changed and a necromancer besieged the village and killed everyone within including Larris, but then Larris didn't stay dead for long instead he was brought back as a slave to the necromancer but stubbornly his soul held on to his mortal vessel and he wasn't quite enslaved fully and he escaped the necromancer to wander.
Eventually Larris found an enchanter and upon explain his plight to the man he made the fallen paladin a amulet that during the night would disguise him in his normal form, but during the day he shifted into his usual undead form. After his meeting with the enchanter he pointed Larris to a town beset by a devil. Armed with his new amulet and the knowledge of what was going on in that town Larris set out to continue his duty as a paladin and save those in need.
Notes: As a card carrying member of the nonliving Larris is:
- Affected by turn undead, detect undead, and other spells that can sense or harm the undead
- suffers a crippling need to feast upon living things
- Animals react like there is a member of the undead nearby, so a paladins charger might get flighty with him while others might bolt
- His magic no longer has any use and will not work for him.
- During the day one can detect the faint scent of rotting from him but also during the day it is heavily covered
- And finally He does not need to sleep, eat, or see. He does not get tired from running and jogging everywhere, he's able to shrug off a variety of wounds moreso than a usual paladian anyways, and he doesn't get sick. |
9,814 | 271 | 27 | 501 | 259 | As he finally explained the full story she could not help but be disgusted now. She had hoped that there had been something truly worth it to justify it. Yet here he was saying he had done it because he thought it was right, that was no reason in her eyes. He had given up hope and convinced himself it was worth it.
"I cannot believe a paladin of Illmater would give up hope on the injured and suffering. The God on the Rack would never have agreed with the mercy killing of an entire town. Maybe the worst individuals, but it sounds as if you had turned on those who needed you most. Illmater have mercy on you." At this point she was standing her own disgust and dismay at the actions of the paladin in the name of her god lighting a fire in her as the full comprehension of his actions dawned on her. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,815 | 271 | 28 | 501 | 259 | Vis had bungled his stuff into his bag before the shit hit the fan and was ready to react. His rapier was out in an instant and he cleared the distance between the paladin and the necrotic being as the paladin bombarded him with some kind of spell. However before she could finish Larris off with her sword, he was between them, raising his rapier up infront of his face, gripping the hilt in one hand and the end of the blade in the other. Lilly's broadsword smashed into his rapier with such might that Vis went down to his knees, though maintaining the rapier infront of his face, though only an inch away now and holding a broadsword away from his face.
"Thtop it!" he screamed, his rapier cutting into the hand that held the blade, "Efery one hath flawth! But they thry to thange!" His Rapier had bent on the impact of her broad sword, the long iron spike contorted at the middle. He chose the rapier because he wasn't strong but because he was fast. But now he wished he had something more substantial as her broadsword crept ever closwe to his face. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,816 | 271 | 29 | 501 | 259 | well I'm noth going to leth you hurth him, Vis said, sounding like he'd been winded but it was just the hole in his face distorting his words. Standing up and pulling his scarf tightly around his face, Vis held the bent rapier to the ground, letting the tip embed itself. Raising his foot, Vis kicked the bend into strightness, one kick setting the iron erect again. He stood one foot behind the other in a combat stance and held the rapier out infront of him, staring down the paladin, "come on then." | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,817 | 271 | 30 | 1,551 | 217 | Are you really trying to stand up for this man's crimes?! Lamont said, only sightly aghast. "I kinda gotta agree with Lily here man, something like that just can't be excused!" He added, smartly keeping his distance from the action. "Blatant genocide isn't as much of a _flaw_...as it is a major crime against humanity." There wasn't much that could justify the act, especially considering the Paladin's religion.
_"Gods...it's still a bit to take in..."_ He mulled over the imagery of such an event. Was the situation so dire, that the only solution was to claim the lives of women and children? And such a flat delivery of such news...it twisted knots in Lammy's stomach. Sheeva was riling up again.
"SCRAAHH! (_Why're you still holding on to me?! Let me go! I will join the Lady Paladin in the fight!_)" In a half-thought, he considered letting her go and grabbing his quarterstaff, to keep his word. Instead, he waited. It looked like Lily could handle her own against this rouge (especially considering she casually pushed past him). | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,818 | 271 | 31 | 74 | 48 | Lily's words stung him, he wasn't stupid, was he? For a second he faltered and another second and another, until he felt sapped. Leaving the battle stance, he slipped his blade into it's sheath and walked off, defeated, back to the fire where he sat and stared blankly at the flame, adjusting his scarf occasionally. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,819 | 271 | 32 | 501 | 259 | Reaching for his book that he had left on the floor, he picked it up and opened it on a random page. He began reading, mumbling the difficult words but enjoying Eranah's company, occasionally pointing out pictures or difficult words. Vis tried to not concentrate on the the issue of Larris, blocking out talk of him no matter how much it made him disappointed in himself. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,820 | 271 | 33 | 501 | 259 | I'm thelf theaching at the moment, he mumbled, ignoring his lisp as he tried to wrap his tongue around a difficult word, "I'm thorry if my athempt at reading ith boring you." He was aware that he was horribly slow when it cane to literacy but he was trying and that counted for something, *righ?* When Lily came back, Vis pretended as if she hadn't and when she said the job was done, his fingers gripped the pages of the book, creasing the paper. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,821 | 271 | 34 | 1,551 | 217 | It doesn't bore me at all. I have helped many with just such a thing. Reading is a very useful skill, and self-teaching to this level is very good. I've known many older than you who couldn't read a word of any language, even those who could speak three or more but couldn't read any. In fact, some of the smartest and wisest people I've met were illiterate. She replied wit a smile, using her hands to lightly open his own, attempting to gently get him to relax.
"I can certainly pull some memories of stories I've read and transcribe them for you should you complete that reading." She said, deciding it might help him relax if she began to draw. Eranah pulled out her drawing tools and paper and began to draw the place of her 'brith' from memory. It had been a small temple in the heart of a truly ailing town, a place where many of Ilmater's faithful congregated to receive his blessing and aid. The priests had helped many but plenty of people always arrived to make sure their work was never truly done. The angelic and holy motifs showing through as the work almost seemed to contain a bit of the holy energy and feel of the place. With multiple Deva and angels around as every person who was obviously suffering held a look of peace in their eyes. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,822 | 271 | 35 | 74 | 48 | Markul nodded, "It would be prudent to leave as soon as we can, like the paladin I like to avoid unnecessary complications." he nodded approvingly at the shift of form done by Lamont, "Well, that is a useful ability to have. And now we don't have to send a hunting party for food." he took out a small note book and a piece of charcoal, scribbling down some notes. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,823 | 271 | 36 | 501 | 259 | There was howling in the distance, muffled words and then silence. The worst had come to pass. The party had been reduced in size by one, the undead given rest.
Things were calming down around the camp fire, the Cleric was tending to the emotional needs of Vis, as was her duty. but the atmosphere was still tense. The Paladin returned and seemed eager to leave this behind her. Her injuries were superficial, and the pain in her face and her pride as a Paladin made Batche feel like she shouldn't push her luck, if Lily wanted medicine, she would ask.
Mister Korick invited questions, few had them. It was hard to tell if it was because we knew so little about what was about to happen or because we didn't want the answers to the questions we did have, not after what just happened. The silence was keeping Batche safe, for now, but wouldn't help her much in the future and honestly didn't have much to ask either. She look down at her fingers and delicately cleaned them, _what would she usually do in a situation like this?_ Usually she'd be chipper and upbeat, chat and gossip about essentially trivial things, about the people and events du jour. And she'd play the harp for the clients, if she hadn't much to say to them. Would a song soothe the Paladin's residual rage?
"_Be still, my soul: Ilmater is by thy side,_
_bear patiently the pangs of grief or pain,_
_leave to thy God to order and provide_
_in every change the faithful will remain._
_Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend_
_through thorny ways leads to a righteous end._" | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,824 | 271 | 37 | 1,398 | 141 | we could go under the prethences of delifering Batche thoo a collecther?, he said, after packing his book away and after admiring deeply Erenah's drawing, mumbling that it was, "beauthiful." Vis continued, "thath should geth the fillagers thoo look pasth Batche and we can claim thath Erenah ith our healer." he pitched the idea forward to see whether it would get any attention. Bus turned back to admiring the Deva's art work, complementing on the shading and the textures of what she drew, though not with words that showed any knowledge of drawin. | Name: Nyshara Moondancer
Age: 24
Race: Illumian
Class: Duskblade
Abilities: As a Duskblade, Nyshara has the power to use magic spells while wearing armor. Her sword can turn into ether fire, ice or lighting and she can cast a spell without having to prepare like a sorcerer them ahead of time.
She can speak Common, Illumian, and Elven. As an Illumian she has two power sigils floating above her head which are Krau (Magic), and Uur (Grace) which can also be used as a light source which she can hide at will.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Nyshara stands around 6 feet tall with blonde hair that cuts off at the midpoint of her back. She has pale skin, and not markings of any kind, and her eyes are a bright soft blue. Her forehead is covered with a dark blue bandana, and she wears a basic cloth shirt and a leather breast plate with her chain shirt underneath. Her katana is resting on her left side ready for combat.
Personality: Since she is an Illumian she has a fascination with knowing all things. Once she has mastered something she moves on to the next. She has an even greater fascination with magical text. She will spend hours hovering over a single page trying to understand it to the best of her ability which is what lead her down the path of becoming a Duskblade.
She mostly will keep out of petty squabbles and drama, but will fight for her code. Her code is simple, protect the innocent, destroy evil, and never turn your back on friends or family. She will uphold her code at all coasts. She is the kind of person that won’t kill a thief, but will make sure they won’t commit the crime again. She also is a bit on the social side enjoying conversation with anyone she comes across. She is a proud Illumian, but doesn’t think herself above anyone else. She is more likely to share stories from her home cabal when given the chance. She can spend hours writing in her journals on whatever information she has found in her travels to take back to her cabal.
She has a bit of a snob side to her when it comes to language finding common to be ugly, but she sees that it’s a language she needs to use.
Inventory: An enchanted Steel katana, steel breastplate, a journal with a writing implement, a wooden poll, a bed roll, colored sand( red, yellow and blue), a pouch full of ash, and a lute. |
9,825 | 271 | 38 | 501 | 259 | Lily pointed at the halfling with her thumb. "Korick, how many letters did you send out? I'm starting to wonder if we might leave only for a dozen more people to show up, and then you're on Most Wanted posters for 'Least Tasteful Prank'." She turned and held out her bare hand to the newcomer. "Lily Beckett, Paladin. I'm here to lecture you on morality and generally be a busybody." Lily smiled. The joke was a little flat, but given the circumstances at least she could tell one. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,826 | 271 | 39 | 501 | 259 | I think ith beauthiful, he said, looking between the drawing and the value creature, "I can'th really draw with any thkill." he said, watching her turn blank paper into art. Vis reached for his tattered left ear and gave it a scratch, it'd been acting up in recent days and was itching him more often. Lowering his hand, Vis loosened the scarf that was over his face a tad, finding it was getting a bit stuffy beneath the gray wool.
Looking down at some of the tools she used to draw, Vis felt a little pang in his heart. He saw a stick of graphite and picked it up, turning it in his hands over and over, nor pushing to hard on it to diary his hands, "my muther had a penthil like thith," Vis mumbled, putting it back down, "she uth tho draw thoo." Pulling the encyclopedia from his bag, he flicked to the last page and pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it he handed it to Erenah. It was a drawing of him and his father playing in their garden when he was a child, it was simply drawn, with smudging to add shading, it wasn't good but it wasn't talentless either. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,827 | 271 | 40 | 1,398 | 141 | It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lily Beckett, paladin. I am a Duskblade, well, as much as one can be knowing only a few meager spells, and has the ability to almost adequately use a katana one handed. Nyshara smiled softly, and laughed returning a lighthearted joke to her new acquaintance.
She then turned to face the halfling that had approached her and firmly gripped his hand to accept the handshake.
"A rather unintelligible half-orc rogue by the name of Marendithas Spelloyal sent me your way. If I had known he was a fence then the encounter would have not been as cordial." she seemed to hiss the word fence as if it was poison, but let the matter drop. "If you want, I have the letter in my possession if you need confirmation of my narration."
She carefully reached into her pack and produced the letter and handed it to Korick. | Name: Nyshara Moondancer
Age: 24
Race: Illumian
Class: Duskblade
Abilities: As a Duskblade, Nyshara has the power to use magic spells while wearing armor. Her sword can turn into ether fire, ice or lighting and she can cast a spell without having to prepare like a sorcerer them ahead of time.
She can speak Common, Illumian, and Elven. As an Illumian she has two power sigils floating above her head which are Krau (Magic), and Uur (Grace) which can also be used as a light source which she can hide at will.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Nyshara stands around 6 feet tall with blonde hair that cuts off at the midpoint of her back. She has pale skin, and not markings of any kind, and her eyes are a bright soft blue. Her forehead is covered with a dark blue bandana, and she wears a basic cloth shirt and a leather breast plate with her chain shirt underneath. Her katana is resting on her left side ready for combat.
Personality: Since she is an Illumian she has a fascination with knowing all things. Once she has mastered something she moves on to the next. She has an even greater fascination with magical text. She will spend hours hovering over a single page trying to understand it to the best of her ability which is what lead her down the path of becoming a Duskblade.
She mostly will keep out of petty squabbles and drama, but will fight for her code. Her code is simple, protect the innocent, destroy evil, and never turn your back on friends or family. She will uphold her code at all coasts. She is the kind of person that won’t kill a thief, but will make sure they won’t commit the crime again. She also is a bit on the social side enjoying conversation with anyone she comes across. She is a proud Illumian, but doesn’t think herself above anyone else. She is more likely to share stories from her home cabal when given the chance. She can spend hours writing in her journals on whatever information she has found in her travels to take back to her cabal.
She has a bit of a snob side to her when it comes to language finding common to be ugly, but she sees that it’s a language she needs to use.
Inventory: An enchanted Steel katana, steel breastplate, a journal with a writing implement, a wooden poll, a bed roll, colored sand( red, yellow and blue), a pouch full of ash, and a lute. |
9,828 | 271 | 41 | 501 | 259 | Korick grabbed the letter and checked the back of the it. Clears as day there were several markings on the back, they seemed to be Spelloyal's signature in thieve's cant before stashing it away in his pack. "Well we shouldn't be waiting much longer," Korick proclaimed as he climb on a boulder to get a better view, "Alden's here."
He pointed down the shore to their east at the wagon and cart that were rolling along to the camp. Steering them were a pair of humans, one an older man in his fifties, with greying brown hair and a short dark beard driving the wagon. Steering the horse drawn cart was a younger girl who was seemed to about twelve, she was skinny, with dark brown hair that was drawn back into a pony tail. As he drew close, the man threw up his arm and hollered, "Hello there Korick!"
"Hello there Alden!" Korick called back, "Good to see you and your daughter, please come by the fire!"
The two came to stop their vehicles fifteen feet away from the fire and disembarked. Alden and his daugther let loose their draft animals, the two docile oxen and the chestnut clydesdale immediately walked down to the water's edge to drink. "Well Korick, there's everything you asked for, two barrels of salted-fish, a keg of a Loudwater ale, four tents, a bag of sugar, a bag of coffee, five bags of nails, five lengths of chain, ten bags of spice, ten bolts of fine wool cloth, tools, -"
"Don't need the whole list Alden, just tell me how you did with some of the harder stuff," Korick interject before he spent twenty minutes listening to a whole slew of mundane items.
"Aye, well some of it wasn't easy but once folk understood the situation they wanted to help. I got here twenty flask of holy water from the church of Lathander, Dorn the smith made you ten silver daggers, and two scores of silvered arrows, I got ten blessed bandages, eight flasks of 'stabilized' alchemist fire, fifteen sunrods, the scorpion, crossbows, silvered bolts, and a bag of powdered silver from Keren the alchemist. The church also donated some scrolls as did that mage friend, said they'd do you well."
Korick took a second to crawl on the look at the goods, " You've done well Alden, I trust the harpers took care of the payments?" He asked the farmer.
"Yes they did, but honestly I'll be more than happy just to know there won't be demons flooding out the Moor's soon." Aden replied.
"They're devil's Alden,"
"Is there a difference?"
"Demons are crazy evil bastards, and devils are tricky evil bastards, first you kill with cold iron and the second with alchemist's silver."
While her father and the halfling talked, Alden's daughter Gwendolyn found a seat by the fire and started warming herself by the fire while taking a few furtive glances at the odd group gathered around the fire. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,829 | 271 | 42 | 1,551 | 217 | The two hawks covered great ground over the grassy, hill laden plains. It was quite a cozy sight from above, as the flight let off a scene of tranquility and peace. Other than being a housecat, taking on the Hawk was one of Lammy's favorite forms. Flying was a very liberating mode of movement. As a human he probably wouldn't be able to stomach any of it. But as a bird, the sky was a domain in which he had full control over. He could be up there for hours if he wanted.
Lammy might've been lost in thought as he explored the freedom of flight, but Sheeva was hard at work, scouring the ground below in search of dinner. Suddenly, her eyes perked up. "KEEEAAAHR! (Found something!)" She exclaimed, before falling into a descent. Looking down, Lamont could notice the typical field mouse, frantically scrambling for a hole as he realized a red-tailed hawk was practically dive-bombing towards him.
His endeavors ended up being for naught, as Sheeva quickly scooped him up in her talons. She landed with the mouse in her grasp, the sharp nails quickly puncturing and dispatching the little rodent. Lamont soon landed beside her, looking on as she began tearing into its underbelly. "CHIIWRK?! (Are you gonna help me look for dinner, or just fill up on snacks?)" He quipped. She looked up briefly, blood dipping from her beak. "KEEER! (Maybe you can can fly around on an empty stomach, but I know I can't, so...)" It was all she said before digging back into the mouse. Lammy would've chuckled if he could. Instead, he took back to the skies in search for a proper meal. After reaching a certain height, he made wide, slow circles about the field, in order to not veer too far away from his companion.
In time, he found a much more impressive catch: a young, plump rabbit. He mulled over the words of his parents, giving thought to properly dispatching of small game before diving down. "Make sure to dislocate spinal cord at the base of the skull as quickly as possible to ensure a quick, painless death." He had made his first catch as he thought this, with a talon grasping right where it was needed at the neck. He had to squeeze in quick, before the rabbit could panic or fight back. CCRRRK! The powerful talons snapped the bunny's neck, rendering it immobile. Lammy flapped down beside the lifeless carcass before quickly taking on his human form.
"Agh, mom pushed me out without giving me my hunting knife!" He realized as he knelt beside his catch. "D'oh well. Someone in the group should have a dagger or something. Korick looked like might have a proper skinning knife." As he thought, he lifted the game by its neck, to ensure the spinal cord was properly dislocated. "That's one!" He said to the air, keeping note of his catch count before tightly binding the rabbit to his belt.
He heard the call of the Hawk scream from up above, signifying that Sheeva was already on the search for more prey. With a content smirk, the druid broke into a trot before bounding into the sky, taking on his Hawk form once more. There was more dinner to catch. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,830 | 271 | 43 | 501 | 259 | Hobgoblins
Looking down from the sky Lammy could see a small band of hobgoblins that was scouting the area less than two miles away from were the others had camped. They were quickly making their way towards the fire, but hadn't seen it just yet. It would only be a matter of time before they spotted the Lammy's fellows and attacked.
Korick
"I do like to be prepared, and I find even the largest monster's can be brought down with one of these. I will steer the wagon, we'll get there just after nightfall before the really nasty monsters wake up." Korick announced as he took a look at the wagon. It was a basic shape the kind of wagon favored by the towns around High Star Lake. It had a hull shaped like half of a pill, round at the bottom and round at both ends with a long straight body. The shape was used because needed, the wheels could be removed and wagon converted to a row boat for fishing and taking supplies across the lake. It was pulled by two ox's and behind them a sat the driver and a passenger on a bench.
Aden nodded without saying much more and started to retrieve the ox's from the shore and lash back in.
Gwendolyn
When her father told her some of his friends needed a delivery, Gwendolyn imagined men from the town, maybe a bit better armed. She didn't they woudld be a half-orc, angle-woman, golem, halfling, and a half-elf. The closet people to human were the lady-knight, and the one with glowing runes orbiting her head. And Lily was still covered in Larris's blood. She had never of what most of them were and the others she thought had only been myths until now. Finally she summoned her courage to to ask, "Hi, I'm Gwendolyn," She said quickly and shyly, as if making noise might anger on of them, "What are you?" she asked aloud to all of them As soon as the words left her mouth she realized how rude they sounded, her eyes went wide and she looked down at the ground hoping that if she didn't offend anyone. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,831 | 271 | 44 | 1,551 | 217 | About six rabbits in, Lammy made note of the Hobgoblins moving across the land, practically making a beeline towards the plume of smoke rising from the beach. "The Campsite!" He thought in alarm. "KEAARRRRRH! (Regroup! We're heading back to the beach!)" He called out to Sheeva before performing a sharp turn towards the lake. As he neared, he managed to take note of some changes to the site, mostly the oxen-drawn wagon and female with the peculiar sigils floating about her head. He barreled towards the site, shifting mid flight to slide to a stop in the sand. With momentum to account for, Lammy almost slammed face first into said wagon. With the accident narrowly dodged, the druid trotted closer to the group.
"Alright! Good news, I've secured us dinner!" The numerous dead bunnies dangling from his waist made that obvious. "Bad news, there's a skeevy lookin' group of Hobgoblins moving in this direction, about...uhhh..." He licked his pointer finger, and pointed it heavenward, to gauge for a proper estimate of distance. Not entirely sure how it worked, though. "2 miles...15...to...20 minutes out." He carefully confirmed.
"...Annnnnnnd there's a fully supplied wagon here. Cool. We should go." He suggested simply. Honestly, he was surprised they hadn't left yet. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,832 | 271 | 45 | 501 | 259 | Picking up his back pack and taking back his mothers drawing, Vis made his way to the carriage and deposited his bag in the back. "Efening Mith," he nodded to the Gwen, "are you old enough thoo be uthing a wagon?" he mused until Lammy came fluttering down with news of hobgoblins approaching. Opening up the back so the group could board, he stared at the direction Lam pointed to and rested his hand on the hilt of his rapier.
"Lithle girl, geth intho the wagon. Lily you'll be the lasth thoo board, so will I." Vis stood around the cart, waiting for the others to get in before he did. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,833 | 271 | 46 | 74 | 48 | the fighth ith unnethethary! he groaned in frustration, they could just load into the cart and get going, "we mutht leaf now!" He didn't want to fight off the hobgoblins, it was a waste of time and not worth the possible injuries. He marched over to Lily and was about to grab her by the shoulder when a rush of air went by the left side of his head, no one must have noticed it but Vis did, he recognized it, it was a crossbow bolt.
"they're here!" | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,834 | 271 | 47 | 1,398 | 141 | Nyshara was about to respond to Gwendolyn when Lily gave the order. She stood up, and drew her sword while looking forward. She dashed over to Lily and take a fighting stance.
"Tarmuid and cabal be with me for if I fall know I did so in your name. Now blaze with fury Thakhe Kaluhoon." She takes a deep breath while holding her katana in her right hand and sets it ablaze. The flame replaces the metal of her sword raging with passion as she prepares herself for battle. "May the skirmish fare well for you Lily for you shall have my aid."
She wasn't about to let her new companions suffer in combat, it just wasn't in her nature. She said she was going to do something, and her word is her bond.
The end of life in Illumian. | Name: Nyshara Moondancer
Age: 24
Race: Illumian
Class: Duskblade
Abilities: As a Duskblade, Nyshara has the power to use magic spells while wearing armor. Her sword can turn into ether fire, ice or lighting and she can cast a spell without having to prepare like a sorcerer them ahead of time.
She can speak Common, Illumian, and Elven. As an Illumian she has two power sigils floating above her head which are Krau (Magic), and Uur (Grace) which can also be used as a light source which she can hide at will.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Nyshara stands around 6 feet tall with blonde hair that cuts off at the midpoint of her back. She has pale skin, and not markings of any kind, and her eyes are a bright soft blue. Her forehead is covered with a dark blue bandana, and she wears a basic cloth shirt and a leather breast plate with her chain shirt underneath. Her katana is resting on her left side ready for combat.
Personality: Since she is an Illumian she has a fascination with knowing all things. Once she has mastered something she moves on to the next. She has an even greater fascination with magical text. She will spend hours hovering over a single page trying to understand it to the best of her ability which is what lead her down the path of becoming a Duskblade.
She mostly will keep out of petty squabbles and drama, but will fight for her code. Her code is simple, protect the innocent, destroy evil, and never turn your back on friends or family. She will uphold her code at all coasts. She is the kind of person that won’t kill a thief, but will make sure they won’t commit the crime again. She also is a bit on the social side enjoying conversation with anyone she comes across. She is a proud Illumian, but doesn’t think herself above anyone else. She is more likely to share stories from her home cabal when given the chance. She can spend hours writing in her journals on whatever information she has found in her travels to take back to her cabal.
She has a bit of a snob side to her when it comes to language finding common to be ugly, but she sees that it’s a language she needs to use.
Inventory: An enchanted Steel katana, steel breastplate, a journal with a writing implement, a wooden poll, a bed roll, colored sand( red, yellow and blue), a pouch full of ash, and a lute. |
9,835 | 271 | 48 | 74 | 48 | It's too late now, we fight here, glad I picked a defensible spot to camp. Korick muttered as he scrambled across the top of the wagon to the top of a pair of large boulders that were nine feet high, on top of the height of the hillock where he had put the campfire. "Alden, there's a thicket to the north east, you should have passed it earlier, take Gwen there and wait for me."
The farmer didn't need to be told twice, he grabbed his daughter by the arm and took her up the shore. Meanwhile Korick told Beth to stay behind the rock in cover, and wait for the Hobgoblins to get close. "If it makes you feel better I agree with you two," He said to Vis and Markel, as a bolt hit the boulder he was perched on, " But I think you'll have harder time making them feel that way."
He nocked an arrow in his bow and took aim, spying two hobgoblins with crossbows in their hands and long swords at their sides, wearing simple scale armor. He took his first shot that passed between the two, but atleast made them run for some cover. "This looks like an Ironskull scouting party, maybe eight in total. Those two archers in the lead, they'll be followed by a four of footmen with sword and board, and another two spearmen. And if our luck is shite, a cleric. Stick together, they're trained to fight in pairs and won't hesitate to gang up on one person." He yelled.
He could already see the footmen coming over the rise to the south east, they had heavy wooden shields, curved broadswords, and were equiped with helmets as well as scale armor. One wearing a much finer set of mail took a second at the crest to survey the parties defenses and bark orders in Goblin before charging towards them with the others. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,836 | 271 | 49 | 501 | 259 | I'd love to avoid battle if possible, but with so little time and a cart we have no chance of that happening, and these raiders might attack a helpless village or caravan. Better us than them. Lily pulled her helm on, leaving the visor open for the moment. "Get into cover positions, get ready to retaliate with whatever ranged weapons we have." Lily ducked back to the wagon and snatched up a crossbow and a fistful of ordinary iron quarrels, slotting one into place and pulling it back with a grunt, then pressed against the back of the wagon out of line of sight of the archers. "Over here with me! Markul, Eranah, Lammy, got any tricks up your sleeves?"
She was pretty confident their group could handle eight hobgoblins, but rule of thumb: Never take unnecessary chances. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,837 | 271 | 50 | 1,551 | 217 | The hobgoblins moved carefully towards the camp, coordinating between crossbow volleys from the archers which forced Korick and Lily to duck while the footmen and spearmen dashed from boulder to boulder to stay in cover. When they were less than forty feet away the captain gave an order, he and the footmen retrieved one of the three heavy javelins tipped with heavy iron spikes they each carried on their backs. They each sighted a target before the captain yelled, "Stuhl Ahglet!" The four hobgoblins threw their javelins in unison, joined by bolts from the archers.
Korick was forced to roll off his boulder and land on Beth to avoid getting skewered a javelin and bolt. The rest of the projectiles began raining down on those who were in the open. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,838 | 271 | 51 | 501 | 259 | Eranah had already put her work away by the time the hobgoblins had started firing upon them. Following Lily's orders she took cover behind a nearby tree and responded to the request.
"There is more to Ilmater than simply helping those in need. There is also punishing those who would bring suffering to others." She responded, answering the question while also not doing so. Preferring to show rather than tell. A goblin entered her line of sight and she decided this would be the perfect time to do just that. Wheeling around the tree she muttered a quick prayer charged with magical energy. Looking directly at her foe she held the holy symbol out in front of her, a large chunk of lava issuing forth from it. Hitting the mark and sending it reeling in searing pain. She quickly retreated back behind the tree to begin her next work.
"I have many more tricks, as you would call them." She spoke out. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,839 | 271 | 52 | 74 | 48 | Markul had dodged a javelin deftly and ducked behind the wagon. He thought about the spells he prepared, considering which one to use. It did not take him long to decide, and he carefully peered around the wagon and caught sight of one of the Hobgoblins. He made the movements needed with his hands and whispered the words, causing a magic missile to fly at his target. He knew that it would strike unerringly and quickly moved back behind the wagon for cover. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,840 | 271 | 53 | 501 | 259 | Though burned and having already lost one they were too disciplined to forget their training. They regrouped and then split off into two groups, charging up the hillock to engage in melee. One footman and spearmen charged Vis by the cart. The footman took the league, eager to avenge his comrade, he kept his shield in front of him and slammed Vis with the heavy oaken bulwark. While the footman knocked him off balance, the spearman lined his weapon up to stab into Vis's side, but lost his chance when a pair of magic missiles slammed into him.
The captain and the other footman charged up the hill at Lily, the footman lagging slightly due to his burns, behind them the spearman. The captain lead the attack, shouting, "Dogh whelp, batlh DaHutlh'a'! Hegh rur Hoch!" As he brought his broad sword town in brutal chop. Meanwhile the other footman prepared to cover him while the spearman waited for an opening to lung forward.
The archers used the distraction caused by the charge to move up into a better position. Then began focusing their attacks on Eranah as well as Markul.
"Foolish whelp, you lack the honor! die with the rest!" | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,841 | 271 | 54 | 1,551 | 217 | Lamont rounded back, the rush of battle keeping him interested in the fight. "SCRAWWW! (Found our next target!)" He spotted one of the spearmen, the one helping his leader gang up on the Lady Paladin, Lily. Diving in, he mentally prepped himself for another spell as he and Sheeva neared their target. His hawk screams turned human as he rammed into the spearman, knocking the hobgoblin off kilter. As the druid landed in the sand, his hawk companion followed up by going for the spearman's eyes. Successfully performing the same plan twice, Lammy had to wonder if the hobgoblins were really paying attention.
"Hey man, 3 versus 1 is unfair!" He quipped, emphasizing his point with a well placed strike to the hobgoblin's chin. "Whoo!" The quarterstaff looked to inflict much more damage then he would've assumed. "Gotta love ironwood enchantments." He turned back to Lily. Didn't really seem like she needed the help all that much, now that he realized, but there was nothing wrong with evening the playing field.
With a whistle, Sheeva returned to Lammy's side, finally letting up from the hobgoblin's face. Or, knowing Sheeva, what remained of the hobgoblin's face. Talons once stained in red, were now drenched in green. Lammy took a chance to grimace at that. "Ugh, please wash yourself after all this is said and done." He recommended before taking off again. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,842 | 271 | 55 | 1,398 | 141 | Nyshara for a moment was unsure of what to do but then came to her senses, and runs to the cart to aid the half elf. She then reaches into the pouch she had tied to her hip pulling out a hand full of ashes. She clenched her hand around it feeling heat gather into the ashes as her hand glowed bright red. Within moments, smoke started to form around her hand as she felt the ashes harden into a solid mass of rock and flame. She took a deep breath and looked to the half-elf's attackers and drew her arm back throwing a flaming rock the size of her fist.
"Vu Hew Uh Du!" She yells as the rock leaves her hand spinning in the air leaving a trail of smoke.
The flung rock meats its mark at them hitting one of the spear-man square in the stomach. The effected hobgoblin fell to the ground screaming in pain from the flaming stone.
"Well, that is on less opponent to concern myself over." she sighed then held her sword charging up her hand with lighting.
"You will persevere my companion. Just hold out a bit longer." she said to the half-elf reassuringly not taking her eyes off of the hobgoblins.
"To Hell with you!" | Name: Nyshara Moondancer
Age: 24
Race: Illumian
Class: Duskblade
Abilities: As a Duskblade, Nyshara has the power to use magic spells while wearing armor. Her sword can turn into ether fire, ice or lighting and she can cast a spell without having to prepare like a sorcerer them ahead of time.
She can speak Common, Illumian, and Elven. As an Illumian she has two power sigils floating above her head which are Krau (Magic), and Uur (Grace) which can also be used as a light source which she can hide at will.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Nyshara stands around 6 feet tall with blonde hair that cuts off at the midpoint of her back. She has pale skin, and not markings of any kind, and her eyes are a bright soft blue. Her forehead is covered with a dark blue bandana, and she wears a basic cloth shirt and a leather breast plate with her chain shirt underneath. Her katana is resting on her left side ready for combat.
Personality: Since she is an Illumian she has a fascination with knowing all things. Once she has mastered something she moves on to the next. She has an even greater fascination with magical text. She will spend hours hovering over a single page trying to understand it to the best of her ability which is what lead her down the path of becoming a Duskblade.
She mostly will keep out of petty squabbles and drama, but will fight for her code. Her code is simple, protect the innocent, destroy evil, and never turn your back on friends or family. She will uphold her code at all coasts. She is the kind of person that won’t kill a thief, but will make sure they won’t commit the crime again. She also is a bit on the social side enjoying conversation with anyone she comes across. She is a proud Illumian, but doesn’t think herself above anyone else. She is more likely to share stories from her home cabal when given the chance. She can spend hours writing in her journals on whatever information she has found in her travels to take back to her cabal.
She has a bit of a snob side to her when it comes to language finding common to be ugly, but she sees that it’s a language she needs to use.
Inventory: An enchanted Steel katana, steel breastplate, a journal with a writing implement, a wooden poll, a bed roll, colored sand( red, yellow and blue), a pouch full of ash, and a lute. |
9,843 | 271 | 56 | 74 | 48 | Stupid archers, Markul thought as he rushed for cover from said archers. He knew he could take them out, but he didn't want to get shot in the process. He carefully peeked out from his cover only to have the feathers of an arrow brush his nose, which still hurt. Markul swore as he pulled back, being pinned by archers was never fun. There were several ways he could go about this, but the moment he came out of cover the Hobgoblin would shoot at him. That didn't mean the Hobgoblin would hit him, but Markul did not like to take chances even though he knew that sometimes you had too. Besides that, if he stayed here too long the Hobgoblin would surely come up with a plan of it's own. Finally he decided that it would be prudent to cause a distraction. Markul reached into his bag and brought out some fleece, then proceeded to make the required hand movements and say the required words for the spell. This time a duplicate image of Markul appeared and he sent it running out from his cover to a tree. It made no sound but Markul hoped that it distract any Hobgoblins aiming at him so that he could get a shot off at them. Markul carefully peered out from his cover again to mark any potential targets, though it was somewhat difficult because he had to concentrate on the image to keep it from dissipating. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,844 | 271 | 57 | 501 | 259 | The trio that was assaulting Lily refocused as when Lammy jumped into the fray. Deciding that a lightly armored druid was a better target than the Paladin, they dedicated their efforts to killing him. The footman launched into a flurry of slashes and chops while the Spearman crawled back up to his feet, giving Lammy a hate filled glare with his remaining eye. As the footman kept Lammy's attention with his onslaught, the spearman strafed left and lunged at Lammy, the long sharp tip of his spear sliced into the Druid's leg.
Lily tried to protect Lammy but the Captain intercepted her and stopped her from getting closer. He slammed he with his shield before bringing down his sword overhead. Lily just had enough time to block the high blow before he followed up with a boot to the stomach.
As the other footman saw his comrade struck down with the firebolt he chose to join the others. He ran towards Lily and Lammy, taking a grazing cut from Nyshara as he disengaged. As he ran back towards his allies he saw the Captain attacking Lily, the footman's training kicked in and as he ran by he sliced low with his broadsword to the back of Lily's armored thigh.
The archers couldn't help take a shot at what seemed to be Markul running out in the open. The fired again and again but despite a few solid shots they never seemed to connect. The continued their assault, leaving their former targets unmolested. This brief opening gave Korick enough time to climb back on his boulder and loose an arrow into one of their sternums. The archer died with a gurgling breath as his partner started to consider fleeing. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,845 | 271 | 58 | 1,551 | 217 | As the spearman was knocked down, Vis took the opportunity to rid himself the swordsman with the shield. Planting his back against the boulder, Vis named to get his feet between him and the shield, he powered his legs forwards and sent the Hobgiblin stumbling backward, pulling out his rapier and corkscrewing his way from another blow with the shield.
"Ga sher Dogh," yelled the Hobgoblin as he discarded his shield, "Batlh wik Gdersh!" The goblin charged him and Vis returned the favor, charging back but not blindly like his opponent. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the fistful of ash he had collected from the camp fire and as the goblin got close enough, he threw it at the creature's face. It was blinded and had started to swing his sword wildly, approaching low, Vis sliced his rapier along the knee of the goblin but he came to close to the goblins backswing and was hit in the back by it's sword, leaving a jagged wound along his back and shoulderblade. Quickly regaining balance he turned on the spot and thrust his sword outwards, embedding it in the goblin, in the space between his helmet and armor.
As he turned from his latest kill, he froze, a spear was being lunged towards his face and was inches away, but suddenly it was pulled back ferociously and the spearman was writhing in pain on the floor, the smell of smoldering coming off him. Tracing from where the projectile might have come, he saw Nyshara, giving her a small nod, he went for cover.
**GOBLIN TRANSLATION: One eared fool, you will be defeated!** | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,846 | 271 | 59 | 501 | 259 | Eranah noticed the damage that Lammy had sustained, but as the druid turned into a bird and flew away almost immediately there was nothing she could really do at the moment until the druid was closer. Instead she decided to focus her efforts on getting rid of some of the archers which plagued the group. Hoping at least one might be killed or moved. The fire that the lava missile had created on one of the hobgoblins spread to more of his body so she focused on another of the archers. She came out from cover just long enough to acquire a target and cast a bolt from her hands. This bolt was made of pure sunlight, casting shadows in directions opposite of itself as the spell found its mark. Eranah hoped the combination of spells might at least lessen the morale of the assaulting force if not cause them to flee. If nothing else the sudden beam of bright light might just prove a distraction to their enemies. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,847 | 271 | 60 | 501 | 259 | The Captain, took a moment to evaluate her situation. He dropped his shield and removed his visored helms to reveal the red savage face underneath. He had coarse black hair, a clean scar that ran through his left eye and just passed his flat upturned nose, and long white fangs bearing up from his mouth. Slowly he raised his sword towards his archer and yelled in common with a clipped tone, " No more blood, spare him."
Korick paused, he could have hit the last archer at that moment, as Eranah's divine magic left him wide open. But he paused, and shouted back, "Drop the sword, and we can talk!" as he kept a bead on the archer. The captain nodded, and dropped his blade. Korick nodded, and as a show of good faith let down his bow. They slowly started making their way towards each other. While Beth crouched and got ready to pounce. When they were two strides away from each other the captain made his move. He reached for his belt dagger and lunged forward.
Before Korick could draw his own dagger and respond, Beth slammed into the hobgoblin. Suddenly he turned into a giant ragdoll between the bear's great maw and crushing limbs. In two motions Beth bit him around the head, lifted him off his feet, then slammed him back down on the hard dry earth cracking his neck and leaving him stone dead. Beth dropped him and reared back on her hind legs and roared in to the sky while goblin blood dripped from her claws and a wound on her side. The sight was enough to send the remaning archer fleeing to the hills.
"Dammit Beth, you got your self grazed, let me look at that." Korick said as he jumped over the captain's body to inspect it. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,848 | 271 | 61 | 1,398 | 141 | Nyshara sighed flicking her sword. "A Relak Thak He."
As she speaks the Illumian words her sword turns back to normal and removed the lighting charge from her hand sheathing her weapon.
"Well, that was disappointing. If you live a life of cowardice you live a life full of running. Pity it wasn't worth my effort."
Nyshara thankfully hadn't gotten hurt, but was feeling a bit on edge. She didn't like having an enemy run from battle even if the odds weren't in their favor; it was one thing to negotiate peace, but it was another to just leave the field of battle.
"The half-elf is also in need of aid. I am fine however."
She took a seat on next to the cart and pulled out her from her pack lute strumming softly as she closed her eyes trying to clam herself down from the battle taking her mind to another place.
I declare the end. | Name: Nyshara Moondancer
Age: 24
Race: Illumian
Class: Duskblade
Abilities: As a Duskblade, Nyshara has the power to use magic spells while wearing armor. Her sword can turn into ether fire, ice or lighting and she can cast a spell without having to prepare like a sorcerer them ahead of time.
She can speak Common, Illumian, and Elven. As an Illumian she has two power sigils floating above her head which are Krau (Magic), and Uur (Grace) which can also be used as a light source which she can hide at will.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Nyshara stands around 6 feet tall with blonde hair that cuts off at the midpoint of her back. She has pale skin, and not markings of any kind, and her eyes are a bright soft blue. Her forehead is covered with a dark blue bandana, and she wears a basic cloth shirt and a leather breast plate with her chain shirt underneath. Her katana is resting on her left side ready for combat.
Personality: Since she is an Illumian she has a fascination with knowing all things. Once she has mastered something she moves on to the next. She has an even greater fascination with magical text. She will spend hours hovering over a single page trying to understand it to the best of her ability which is what lead her down the path of becoming a Duskblade.
She mostly will keep out of petty squabbles and drama, but will fight for her code. Her code is simple, protect the innocent, destroy evil, and never turn your back on friends or family. She will uphold her code at all coasts. She is the kind of person that won’t kill a thief, but will make sure they won’t commit the crime again. She also is a bit on the social side enjoying conversation with anyone she comes across. She is a proud Illumian, but doesn’t think herself above anyone else. She is more likely to share stories from her home cabal when given the chance. She can spend hours writing in her journals on whatever information she has found in her travels to take back to her cabal.
She has a bit of a snob side to her when it comes to language finding common to be ugly, but she sees that it’s a language she needs to use.
Inventory: An enchanted Steel katana, steel breastplate, a journal with a writing implement, a wooden poll, a bed roll, colored sand( red, yellow and blue), a pouch full of ash, and a lute. |
9,849 | 271 | 62 | 1,551 | 217 | Once it was safe to land, and the remaining hobgoblins high tailed it out of there, Lammy figured it was best to regroup with the others. He and Sheeva perched atop the merchant's wagon, just in time to watch Korick's bear maul the goblin captain to death. It was quite a sight, to say the least.
"CRAW! (Oh, I like her.)" Sheeva stated flatly. Lammy took on his human form, his feet dangling from the wagon's roof, the back of his leg still noticeably sliced. It didn't hurt as much as it did a minutes prior. And upon closer inspection, it wasn't cut nearly as deep as he thought it was. "Still burns, though." He muttered. Sheeva tried not to stare down the cut, but overall she was glad her companion was okay.
As he looked on, he heard Lily mention his injury. "Oh, this isn't that bad." He reassured the paladin, very slowly and carefully climbing down from the wagon's top, in attempts to keep the pain to a minimum. "'Tis but a scratch, as they say." He did his best to hide any sort of limp as he approached her, his staff doing much to help that.
"You look worse than I do. Which, considering all the fighting you've done over the course of the last half hour, is pretty understandable." His face made the quickest flash of a grimace as he noticed the massive trail of blood dirtying her pantaloons. "Oh geez." He managed to flatten his expression back into neutrality. "Are you uhhhh...gonna need any help?" He hesitantly asked. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,850 | 271 | 63 | 501 | 259 | Eranah jogged over to the paladin in time to hear the two injured compatriots bickering over who needed help more. She kneeled beside Lily and looked over the injury, only sparing a glance to Lammy.
"Lammy will be fine, his injury can wait though it will hurt. Yours is more serious. Now, with the matter settled I will begin my work." Calmly stated the cleric, enjoying combined worry and bravado on display. She placed her hands over the wound before saying a prayer of healing and channeling the divine energy granted her into the wound. Halting the bleeding and closing the skin as it also halted the pain. The healing was enough that little more than a small scab was left. The spell enough to heal the wound sufficiently it would be completely healed in a matter of days at most.
"There we are, now Lammy if you would like to be healed as well I can attend to you." She turned to the Druid. | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,851 | 271 | 64 | 74 | 48 | When he heard that the fight was over, Vis sighed and leaned back on the stone wall he used for cover. But as he did he whinced, he had forgotten about the laceration to his back, looking around to see if the healer was available, he found that she was tending to the more serious wounds of the paladin. Deciding that he'd try to fix himself up, Vis undid his armor and let his white skin breath, after having been locked up in the leather armor and sweating.
Reaching behind him, Vis traced the length of the wound with his finger, biting his tongue as he did to not yelp in pain. After guesstimating the length of the laceration, he pulled a needle and spool of thread from his bag and went to work choosing the correct length and threading the eye of the needle. Using his left hand to pinch one end of the wound shut, he reached back with his right and started to slowly sew the wound shut, whincing each time the needle passed in and out of his skin. Once he was done, he cleaned the wound out with water and re-approached the group, his white shirt flung over the shoulder that wasn't injured, "are we all good?" he asked no one in particular. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,852 | 271 | 65 | 1,551 | 217 | Oh, uh, yeah. Okay. He replied to the Deva cleric, carefully lowering himself to her and Lily's level. As Eranah began mending to his bloodied gash, he gave brief thought to the druidic healing spells his parents (and Amaya) knew of. "Maybe I should look into one of those some day..." Lily broke his thoughts by giving him props for his help in the fight. He chuckled sheepishly at that.
"Ah, heh, yeah...well, hah, y'know...I just went out there and reacted..." He chuckled some more, and scratched at his hair. Lammy wasn't used to the complements on his fighting style. Mostly because he didn't really have one. He was smiling harder than he thought. Sheeva would've rolled her eyes if she could've.
There was less to heal with Lammy than there was with Lily, so it didn't take much for her to clear up the injury. The druid gave his thanks to the cleric before standing to his feet. He could already feel the difference through the transition, and barely had to test it. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,853 | 271 | 66 | 501 | 259 | Good reactions. We made a pretty good team. She got to her feet, testing her weight on her limb before buckling her greaves back on. "Ten minutes, people." She moved among the fallen hobgoblins, and found herself letting out a sigh of relief as she checked them. All dead, with the obvious exception of the one who had escaped. She felt a pang of guilt at feeling relief at finding death, but dismissed it. They didn't have the time or the resources to treat and hold wounded prisoners, and executing them would obviously be off the table.
"One of us ride with Korick. Vis, you up for it? She turned to Lammy. "You can talk to your hawk, right? Sorry, I didn't catch her name." She was -pretty- sure the hawk was female, although she wasn't positive. "Can she keep a lookout for us during the journey? I hate to imagine what would have happened if you hadn't warned us about these goblins." Images of the child or her father slain in the sudden confusion of an attack flashed through her mind."
Lily looked over at Batche. "And, uh...do any of you know anything about her? Is she alright?" | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,854 | 271 | 67 | 1,551 | 217 | Indeed, the golem seemed to have fell into some sort of state of stillness, but Lammy didn't give much thought to it. He had assumed she might've regressed to some sort of power saving mode or something. "CAAHHWW! (I am Sheeva, of the fearsome, fearless Red-Tails!)" The Hawk greeted the lady paladin, swooping from her perch to land on the druid's shoulder. "Yeah, yup, this is Sheeva. She is, indeed, a female Red-Tailed Hawk." Lammy translated in a way. "She's taken a liking to you, Lily. Especially after you took charge to confront the zombie guy earlier." He added, transferring her position from his shoulder to his wrist.
"Alright Sheev, can you provide us with some eye from the sky? Call out if you see anything suspicious." He explained. She seemed alright with the task, giving a confirming chirp before taking off. "Alright. D'you need me on the ground, or do I need to join Sheeva?" He asked. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,855 | 271 | 68 | 501 | 259 | I think ith would be wither if there wath thomeone with more ranged abilithy riding on the carriage, he commented, slipping his white shirt on, as the fabric brushed against his newly stitched wound he gave a small gasp of pain. He hoped that it would get better soon but without any slaves or potions it would be tough going. Pulling the shirt over the wound and hiding it, he looked around at the group, it had suddenly dawned on him how strange they all were, looking between them all, he rolled his eyes. When his eyes went over Nyshara and the floating symbols on her head, his green eye stung with pain and as he looked away it stopped. 'how peculiar,' | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,856 | 271 | 69 | 1,551 | 217 | Vis went over to where he discarded the harpoon and picked it up, slinging it over his good shoulder so he could hold it with in one arm. Looking at the paladin with mock incredulity, he said, "I would like you thoo know thath thith ith a prethithion fighthing weapon." he pretended as if he couldn't hear his terrible lisping and and climbed in, holding his spear horizontally so he could get inside. He sat in front of the deva, and raised his eye brows, "heard Devath live forefer, thath thrue?" | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,857 | 271 | 70 | 501 | 259 | This is only my second mission for the Temple. My first was a Crusade, a hundred warriors of the Triad sent to end the rising of the dead in an old catacomb. That was where I earned my Knighthood.
She paused a moment to contain herself, her voice momentarily filled with pride.
"But I spent most of my time before now training. Lots of sparring, study. Most of the practice was the mental side of my art. Most of the time I was less warrior and more detective."
She reached into a pack and withdrew a cloth, damping it with a bit of water from her canteen, and beginning to clean the blood off her face.
"And I spent most of that time in Waterdeep. Not a lot of Druids there." She smiled. "And even if I met a lot of druids I doubt I'd meet one like you." | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,858 | 271 | 71 | 74 | 48 | Markul was jotting a few notes, mostly about his companions for he liked to know those he worked with. It was always good policy to know what your colleagues could and could not do. He was also taking notes about the Warforged, as he was very interested in how she worked, he would have to ask more about her later when, and if, she reactivated. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,859 | 271 | 72 | 1,551 | 217 | Lamont nodded with clarity as the Lady Paladin explained her experiences in the field. "Ohhh, so you're about as new to this stuff as I am!" It was something the two had in common, almost. "Well, you've been on more missions than I have. This is my first time being out in the world on my own. I suppose I should be proud of myself for finally taking the leap, and yet..." He thought of being home, tending to the horses, or rounding up the sheep. It felt slower, simpler, easier. Hell, they've barely started this quest, and Lammy did more fighting in the last few minutes than he did for most of the previous year!
He wondered if the rest of the job would be like that, just, high octane roller-coster action every few hours. Seemed like a bit much to him. He gave a brief glance toward Lily once more, the knight still wiping blood from her face. Didn't seem like any of this stuff phased her in the least, something the druid found fairly admirable. But then he gave a quick frown. "Wait, one like me? What's that supposed to mean?" He queried, raising an eyebrow in defense. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,860 | 271 | 73 | 501 | 259 | In retrospect that might have come off a little patronizing. Or just straight up insulting. Not what she intended. Red colored her cheeks, but given the mess it was pretty impossible to notice. "Oh, um..." She stumbled over her words for a moment. "I didn't mean it to be insulting, you're just not like most Druids I've heard about." That almost sounded worse than what she had lead with earlier. Torm help me. "I mean, like, the Druids I usually heard of sounded like they had a real stick up their butt."
Given that she was a Paladin, a group legendary for having entire trees jammed right up their asses that was a pretty rich thing to say. She grimaced. "Kind of crazy, I mean. Like, calling down swarms of locusts after people because they cut down a tree for firewood or ate a rabbit. You seem pretty far from that, like a normal person. Who can call down swarms of bees and turn into a Hawk." She sighed and slapped her forehead. "Someone please make me stop talking." | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,861 | 271 | 74 | 501 | 259 | I think what our dear paladin is trying to say is that there are many stories that float around about druids, and you do not fit them. So she is thanking you for teaching her the truth of those in tune with nature. Isn't that right Lily? Eranah said with a smile before turning back to her previous conversation.
"I meant your human culture. What did they think, who was the main god of your town, how did you organize yourselves, what were your people good at? The culture you spent your entire life around. Deva culture is a bit less taught as it is simply known to all Deva. Humans, well they develop their own cultures based on not memory but belief. It is a very interesting thing." | - Name: Lily Beckett
- Age: 20
- Race: Human
- Class: Paladin
- Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. Additionally as a Paladin Lily has the ability to sense the presence of supernatural evil, such as Fiends and the Undead.
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Appearance:
Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded cloak of deep, dark red.
- Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one:
A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance.
A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice.
A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent.
A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it.
A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not.
A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice.
A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need.
A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others.
Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure.
- Inventory: Lily's most prized possession is her sword, a longsword 46 inches in length, with a diamond-style blade and a cruciform crossguard, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a wheel-shaped pommel - she can wield the weapon one-handed if need be, but favors using it with both. The weapon is rather unremarkable, well-crafted but unenchanted and unnamed. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it.
Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain.
Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife.
- History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own.
Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began.
To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. "
At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple - safeguarding travelers, guarding graveyards, laying to rest ghosts and spectres that came to rest in homes in Waterdeep. Her final mission - and final test - was to join a band of warriors led by Lord Tomas Gram, warrior of Tyr, and quiet the unrest within the tomb of the Nichos clan, a vast catacomb that had become a nest of the Undead in recent months. The mission was successful, and Lily earned her marks, her abilities equally effective at dissipating the angry ghosts and risen bodies and healing the wounds her comrades suffered, and demonstrating her courage and commitment to the cause. Upon their return to Waterdeep she was fully gifted her status as a Paladin of Torm, and granted her armor and sword for use.
Within the temple the warriors had uncovered the reason behind the uprising - a book of dark lore had been stolen from a vault deep in the catacomb, the only trace of it a book-shaped patch of thinner dust on a pedestal. Concerned about the potential of such a dark book for it to be so heavily warded after so long the Temple began an investigation, sending Paladins to search out traces of evil magic. While most of the other twenty or so Paladins at the Temple ventured north or south, on Gabriel's advice - and on the word of an old contact in the Harpers - she ventured east, to the village of Falconrest on the edge of the High Moor.
- Notes: Lily's Theme If we're doing character music |
9,862 | 271 | 75 | 1,551 | 217 | Huh? Before Lammy could present a disarming rebuttal, Lily had already ran towards the lake, her red face only reddening as she excused herself. "Uhhh..." With the Lady Paladin barely in shouting distance, and the Deva Healer already going back to her conversation with the rogue, the young druid found himself stuck in another awkward position. He gave thought to what Lily had claimed, the comment about the druids with the upturned personalities. He never realized that was a common personality trait. He couldn't recall any of his immediate family members acting in such a way. "Not even Amaya, who most likely would, considering how popular she's gotten..." He smirked a bit at the idea.
"Maybe she's just heard of some assholish druids." He mumbled. "Or maybe we're the weird ones..." He gave brief thought about his family. "I didn't even know there was a spell to summon bees and locusts..." He wanted to follow after her, to explain his thoughts and give her some insight on how he and his sister were raised, but that would've been about as awkward as her still being there within speaking space. So he figured he'd wait for her to return to the troupe to address her proper. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,863 | 271 | 76 | 1,398 | 141 | Korick ran back to the cart, he tide Alden's horse and Lady Lily's Horse leashed to run beside it. He made sure the Oxen were fastened to his wagon. Scrambling, he crawled into the driver's seat and pushed the oxens on into the High Moors. While ushering Lily out of the water and onward. Waiting only to load on the other part members and drop a small parcel for Alden and his daughter. Beth ran along side them through the rolling grassy hills of the moors. Ferns, leafs, and shoots of tan dry vegetation grew up to their chests; Blocking their vision and progress.
For good measure, Korick stopped by Larris's corpse, he grabbed the fallen paladin's holy symbol. A length of bright red cloth. And pocketed it. Then drenched the corpse with a vial of holy water, pure salt, and ran it over with the wagon just to be sure. He then poured oil and alchemist's fire on it and sped away, letting it burn behind them on the sandy beach as they marched into the moors.
With the party mostly gathered and a minute of breathing room caught, Korick felt the need to state of few things. "That, was barely an entire scouting party, that, that was like the hunting parties scouts." He mused grimly, " If more hobgoblin's attack us at once we need to be more prepared than that." | Name: Nyshara Moondancer
Age: 24
Race: Illumian
Class: Duskblade
Abilities: As a Duskblade, Nyshara has the power to use magic spells while wearing armor. Her sword can turn into ether fire, ice or lighting and she can cast a spell without having to prepare like a sorcerer them ahead of time.
She can speak Common, Illumian, and Elven. As an Illumian she has two power sigils floating above her head which are Krau (Magic), and Uur (Grace) which can also be used as a light source which she can hide at will.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Nyshara stands around 6 feet tall with blonde hair that cuts off at the midpoint of her back. She has pale skin, and not markings of any kind, and her eyes are a bright soft blue. Her forehead is covered with a dark blue bandana, and she wears a basic cloth shirt and a leather breast plate with her chain shirt underneath. Her katana is resting on her left side ready for combat.
Personality: Since she is an Illumian she has a fascination with knowing all things. Once she has mastered something she moves on to the next. She has an even greater fascination with magical text. She will spend hours hovering over a single page trying to understand it to the best of her ability which is what lead her down the path of becoming a Duskblade.
She mostly will keep out of petty squabbles and drama, but will fight for her code. Her code is simple, protect the innocent, destroy evil, and never turn your back on friends or family. She will uphold her code at all coasts. She is the kind of person that won’t kill a thief, but will make sure they won’t commit the crime again. She also is a bit on the social side enjoying conversation with anyone she comes across. She is a proud Illumian, but doesn’t think herself above anyone else. She is more likely to share stories from her home cabal when given the chance. She can spend hours writing in her journals on whatever information she has found in her travels to take back to her cabal.
She has a bit of a snob side to her when it comes to language finding common to be ugly, but she sees that it’s a language she needs to use.
Inventory: An enchanted Steel katana, steel breastplate, a journal with a writing implement, a wooden poll, a bed roll, colored sand( red, yellow and blue), a pouch full of ash, and a lute. |
9,864 | 271 | 77 | 74 | 48 | Vis reached behind his head and pulled the scarf tighter around his face, 'could they see it through the scarf?' he asked himself running his hand over the part of the scarf that hid the scar to see if there were any outlines, there weren't it was completely smooth, which relived him. "You mean my EAR, righth Koric?" he asked stressing the word ear, hoping that people wouldn't ask about what was under the scarf. He squished himself into the corner of the wagon and hoped people would just stop asking. | Name: Markul Ferrn
Age: 25
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Wizard
Abilities: Markul Ferrn is good with magic, especially evocation. He is fairly fit but is by no means a fighter. He is also very literate.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Markul Ferrn stands at 6' and weighs 164 lbs. He has dark skin, dark-red eyes and dark-brown hair worn in a low ponytail. His nose is somewhat broad and like most Half-Orcs (if not all) his two bottom canine teeth jut out a little. When traveling he wears dark robes of green and brown and wears boots. In more formal situations he dons blue robes fringed with white and wears matching blue shoes.
Personality: Markul Ferrn is a fairly level-headed Half-Orc. He leans to a more Human disposition than Orcish disposition, and though he still holds strength in high regard he recognizes strength comes in many different forms. He enjoys a wide range of things from reading to wrestling. He gives strangers some degree of respect, though not nearly as much as if they earn it. He tends to be well spoken until he has had too much to drink. He does not like those who misuse their power and/or strength and is likely to step in if he feels someone is being mistreated.
Inventory: Wizard robes, traveling robes, wizard-kit, traveling pack, dagger
History: Markul Ferrn was born in Many-Arrows. He grew up being constantly picked on and beaten by other Orcs as he was somewhat weaker and therefore an excellent target. He left at a young age and was taken in by a Human family that lived near Silverymoon. This was the Ferrn family, of whom Markul Ferrn took his last name as he considers them his true family. Markul was an asset to the Ferrns, still being stronger than most Humans and being able to do much work. The kindess shown by the Ferrns made Markul much less prone to acts to prove his physical prowess and eventually he began to show interest in things more related to the mind. The Ferrns encouraged this interest and taught Markul how to read and write. Soon Markul became interested in magic and the Ferrns helped him find a willing teacher. So he learned of magic and eventually felt it was time to set out to learn more about the world. |
9,865 | 271 | 78 | 1,551 | 217 | As some of the others might've found solace within the cozy cabin walls of the wagon, Lamont opted to just lounging out atop the vehicle's roof. Felt good to take in the sun's rays, and he needed to keep an optional eye on Sheeva. The druid let out a sigh of comfort, taking much enjoyment from laying on his back. From his position, he could still make out the conversations going on below him, and the comment about the half-elf's condition got his attention. Lammy swung his head over the edge, hanging upside down to peer into the wagon windows.
"No...I'm sure he said face, Half-elf. And I could understand why, too. That lisp of yours is noticeably peculiar." Lammy was noticeably oblivious to the rogue's distress at the subject. "Unless you're doing it on purpose for some reason..." He doubted that particular idea, the guy didn't seem to be the type to try and purposely annoy others. Lammy made sure to hold his tongue just then, as he almost admitted the grating annoyance of the impediment. "I can't just say that to his face..." But honestly, the lisp was beginning to wear on the druid's nerves. | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,866 | 271 | 79 | 1,551 | 217 | Pelor, an odd name for Lathander, but it must be a local version. The humans do rename their gods by region, funny thing about them. Eranah thought but specifically did not say. Instead she simply remained quiet for must of the discussion. Vis' lisp didn't bother her one way or the other, it was an imperfection surely but the world outside the astral sea had plenty of those. Though since the others were engaging him she figured she may as well chime in once some of the others had spoken their piece.
-------
Lily had rejoined the group by now, climbing in the front of the cart with Korick. While she wasn't ranged, the sight of a heavily armored paladin wouldn't be uncommon and may deter attack. When the conversation began she spoke up.
"You should get rid of the lisp. There's no way it can be that helpful to you. Besides, why are you turning down healing in the first place? Seems foolish even if you want to carry the scars of battle." She said in a tone that while backing her up, did reflect some of the new found respect she had for him after their earlier encounter.
--------
Eranah felt now was probably a good time to speak.
"I won't force him to receive healing he doesn't want if my inaction doesn't harm him. As for my personal feelings, while life may be easier without the injury, he has every right to keep his scars if he so chooses." | Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome king cobra, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has a wide area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. Naturally, he can only turn into one animal once a day, and he's always thought about working on fixing that. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. He also carries a 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything) when he's in human form, and he's handy with that when he wants to be.
At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'0" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell.
Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it.
Inventory: It's already pretty challenging to carry his quarterstaff whenever he's flying across massive distances in his hawk form, would he really carry anything else? I mean, other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), he tends to travel light. Really light. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources.
History: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary.
It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. He had no plans for the future, and was perfectly content with just living with his parents. There was no incentive, no fire in his eyes, no vigor. He'd only go into town if one of them wanted him to fetch something. His parents thought him lazy, but was it more to it than that? In truth, Lamont felt like he didn't have much to offer to the world at large. And because of that, he didn't do much to contribute to it.
I mean, he was also lazy, but he also felt pretty powerless to the way of the world. "Why can't you be more like your sister?" His mother would plead at times. He couldn't always give her a straight answer, though he never liked being compared to Amaya. "For gods sake Lammy, you're not a bad druid, not even mediocre! We can all see the amazing potential you have, so why aren't you reaching for it?" He would shrug, or play coy when bombarded with these queries. Just once, he alluded at his case, just to see if his mother could catch on and show some understanding, but such a plea seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I say seemingly, as one should never doubt a mother's intuition. One day she approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "You think moping around this sanctuary will make the world change? Wrong! That is something you have to do yourself! And if it doesn't feel like anything's changing, then you get angry, and you force it to!" She shoved him out into the front yard. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son.
...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. |
9,867 | 272 | 0 | 1,542 | 359 | The Dark Star: Dawn of the Third Keeper
Our story begins in the central kingdom of Alexandria. For centuries it has been the stronghold of humanity, and given the dire circumstances it is surprisingly well off due to its large population of artisans and merchants, as well as an abundance of magicians to defend the city. Named after it's ruling family, the House of Alexandria has prevailed throughout these dark times and its bloodline continues even today.
On this day, a special individual will begin their quest. His sole purpose in life is unfolding in front of their eyes, as he awakens in the royal chambers of the castle. The morning routine wasn't too different than what he was accustomed to; servant after servant performed all kinds of tasks in order to convenience the young man, such as fetching food, hygienic items and his ceremonial robes. Pulling his arms through each sleeve he felt the comforting familiarity of the fine silk texture. The deep blue color accented along the hems with white matched the national colors of Alexandria, chosen to remind the world that it had come so far due largely in part to Aether's Sacrifice.
With routine preparations complete, the many servants began to assemble the man's valuables and necessities for travel. One guard, standing apart from the others in both demeanor and appearence, approached him until about ten feet away. With a solemn bow the guard said, "Oracle, your presence is requested by the king at the throne. When you are finished please accompany me there."
At around the same time, three other individuals all stood in front of the great doors of the castle, at the top of a respectably ornate staircase leading down to the waters of the straight running through the city. Their destinies had become intertwined not just with each other, but the fate of the world itself. They simply did not know it yet.
Before too long, the mighty gate of the castle slowly opened, unveiling a grand hall behind it. The small group of guards armed with lances and shields lined the entrance from the inside, six of them in all. As they parted in the middle and fanned out their formation, the guard closest to the trio beckoned them to enter. "Right this way, the King will have audience with you" he said as two lines of three soldiers turned on heel to face inward, ready to march. | Name: Iestyn
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Personality: Iestyn is organized, as well as 'efficient' with both talk and time. Even when relaxed, he is constantly double checking things around him out of habit, plus doing so also puts him at ease. Cleaning, fixing stuff in storage, and just tidying up is not only natural to him but it also helps him calm down. He also is quite sympathetic to his fellow man, and is someone who genuinely wants to help those who he can. However, he can also be narrow-minded, and first impressions last with him. So if you get off to a bad start? Unless he is forced to start thinking otherwise, or significant evidence is provided, Iestyn will view them with disdain for a long time. Although Iestyn tries his best to help others if its within his power, he can be quite violent when it comes to those who hurt others. For example, when it comes to the likes of bandits he will not be the one who leaves survivors.
As for other ticks about him, he is a lover of music and can often be found humming or making beats with his hands and other tools around him in his spare time. Iestyn is also not too charismatic, and will avoid being in situations where he has to talk people into or out of things if someone else who is obviously better suited for the job is available.
Bio: Iestyn's childhood is of little significance, and the only reason it is any kind of significant is because that is how he got his title. He was named after the village in which he was raised, and eventually left to join the army. Iestyn always believed the best way to help others was to be knighted, and that was his goal in life. Plus, if he didn't leave his village chances are he wouldn't have much going for him and he would be forced to become a farmer. So, out of a want to help and an urge to actually live, he would become a knight.
Now, Iestyn never had much experience with magic back in his old home. No one there ever used it, and chances are no one even had enough mana to cast even the simplest of spells. However Iestyn, when he joined the army, discovered that he had barely enough mana to join a certain sect. A sect that called themselves 'Clerics', and were established in the Cathedral of Sundown. Now, Iestyn was not the most adept at either combat or magic, but was trained to fight nonetheless. He became adept at casting 'Enchantment' type magics, because he was unable to effectively cast spells that did damage outright. With his hard-work, and with a strong lack of competition, Iestyn was granted a special level of privilege. he wasn't any ordinary knight, but a member of the Clerics as well.
His early life as a cleric he worked as a member of a force that would take care of injured soldiers and civilians caught up in monster attacks. However, as he aged and moved up the ranks he eventually achieved the rank of 'Paladin', and was given the choice to become a more 'aggressive' member of the Clerics and help uphold the peace in a way that could have more long-lasting effects. He quickly agreed to it, and that is when he really started living up to his title as a knight, as well as a member of the clerics.
hagroden's CS
Name
Ved Holven J'zcof
Age
24
Gender
Male
Appearance
5'11 a lean, he has a bit more muscle definition than your average cosmic mage.
Personality
INTP
Bio
Born into a house of Magic, he was accustomed to long hours of dutiful study and even longer hours of tireless Practice. He lived far from civilization, a three day walk, so that he and his family could practice freely and outside of closed doors. At a very young age he showed promise, but in a new and unstudied, complicated matter. It began with objects near him levitating, than escalated progressively into pieces and chunks of items levitating, and either disappear, or shattering in a flash of white light.
At the age of thirteen, his family brought in an ancient, and less than sane man named Abdul Alhazred who claimed he knew of the magic used by Ved, and would train and practice him, in exchange for privacy, housing, and livestock. The man brought with him a single spell book, The Kitab al-Azif, which contained a seemingly endless supply of rituals, practices, techniques, and spells. The book now stays within Ved's possession at ALL times, as he refuses to let it loose from his sight.
After several years, Ved has become an experienced user of Cosmic Magic, an arcane and nearly unheard of art that allows it's users draw power from the universe, and use it's quirks for their own purposes, good or bad. His mastery of abilities includes control over gravitational pull, teleportation, and an offensive spell he rarely finds a need to use, which utilizes his control over gravity to send items hurtling toward a target at impossible speeds.
At around the age of 19, his family finally found what the livestock was being used for. The mad Arab had been using them for summoning rituals, for some sort of obscure beast named Lu-Kthu, upon realization of the dark Magic he was using, they kicked the Old Man Out, and turned to Ved for an explanation. He offered none, for the book he based his entire life on spoke highly on the creature. So in turn, he left his home as well, traveling with the old man until his timely passing, and began to work as a mage for hire, his first job a prestigious one.
Upon the completion of his first contract, his name began to spread like a fire. Nowadays, he was unable to pay for a drink, or purchase empty tomes without someone mentioning his name. His reputation had begun to precede him, and he wasn't too fond of the fame. But, if there was one thing good about the whole situation, it was the high paying jobs that came for him. That is, up until the most recent one. A summoning from someone representing the Royal Gaurd. No payment had been discussed. |
9,868 | 272 | 1 | 1,270 | 2,337 | So, what are you in for? A common prisoners way to break the tension he found fitting by the summons and imprisonment on the lavish waiting room. A cage is a cage and he wished to spread his wings.
Eine was finishing one of his meals for the day while waiting to be admitted. Nothing more than a handful of nuts, berries and slips of jerked squirrel to be washed with a wineskin. He had already played his panpipes, had some food, now he was just bored. He had been warned that drawing a weapon, even to sharpen or shave an apple, would be bad form at minimum. He offered the blackberry brew to anyone else willing to swig the sweet sangria as he longed for the real outsides.
No shade of the forests, no hip high hay to wade through, no knee deep muck to tromp over. The only redeeming quality of the city was the animals: The rats of the sewers, the dogs of the alleys, the horses in the streets, cats in the windows and the birds on the roofs. Not to mention the insignificant ants walking around on two legs.
That last one made him chuckle as he imagined itty-bitty outfits on ants going in and out of a hill Just as the summons were announced. He retained enough formality to stand and dust himself off before taking back the wineskin if anyone imbibed. Time to see what the ant queen wanted with a ranger and whatever these others were. | Name: Eine Vonvier
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Eighteen hands and ten stone, he was cut like a climber with a lanky grace to him like a wolfs lope.
His layered armor is more akin to the doe leathers of frontiersmen, but made from monsters flesh. Wyverns wings membrane can be treated to be stronger than most expect, on par with chain-mail armor at a third the weight.
Up each arm he keeps a simple knife in a steel scabbard that is light enough to throw but strong enough to hold its own with the sheath on the forearm another layer of protection (rather than a retreating fixed blade).
The sword is a masterful piece of war. Carved more than forged, it holds a magnificent edge like damascus and bears an intimidating manner when the black blade is unsheathed. He has taken time to spread the false rumors that his sword drinks the blood of his enemies and the like since the black forest is rumored to be the home to vampires as it is. He is simply expanding on an existing lore.
Personality: Drunkard, lout, maniac. These were the easiest masks to wear around people of the same ilk in his eyes. He finds his time in cities to grate on his calm and is more at lease in the serenity of the wilderness. Be it mountains to plains, desert or ocean, he finds the real monsters to be humanity more often than the beasts his people have slain for centuries. He is studious at heart, stalking and watching people as much as places or things before drawing their appearance with a small notation to his observations.
Bio:
Born in the black forests, his people were keepers of the true ironwoods. Trees who leached into the iron deposits with their roots and added the ore to their layers of bark. This made for a signature uniqueness of black and red wood with all the strength of iron. His clan in forests are renown for their monster hunters, the way they seem to shrug off the terrifying roar of a dragon or keep on task with a dryad using all that nature gave them to change their mind. There have been no mages in the bloodline ever no matter who they were bred with to the point that some suspect their 'power' is that they have no power, a natural way about them that lets magic roll over or around them without harm or at least less damage.
Eine has no strong opinion of this fact as he focuses more on the ecology and psychology of the monsters in their world as the humans try to push the beasts back ever deeper into the woods. He spends days at a time in the wilderness trying to unravel the web of life the monsters bring to the world to better understand humans place in it. But that is to say that not all monsters appreciate the rangers presence, sadly that is when his family training comes into play to dispatch those who are unwilling to listen to reason. |
9,869 | 272 | 2 | 905 | 2,480 | Rolf was loading his pipe to smoke, when asked why he might have been brought here.
He shrugged with an unconcerned smile. "I imagine for something similar to what you're 'in for,'" he spoke with an accent that originated far from Alexandria. The sort of alternative brogue that could only thrive in isolated places. "I've uncommon skills, the sort that it's worth searching far and wide for. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say you weren't easy for them to track down either?"
He lit his pipe, and when offered the wineskin gladly took a hearty swig. He offered a spare pipe to the ranger in return.
He had only taken a few puffs when the great doors opened and they were to go inside. Rolf sighed and extinguished his pipe, stowing it in a pocket of his coat and walking through the doorway with his staff over his shoulder.
"Well let's find out then, shall we?" | Name: Rolf White
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Rolf is a little short, very thin and looks a little sick most of the time. His hair has already lost all color, and is permanently silver white. He's dressed warmly, usually has a staff with him, and smells of sandal wood.
A dagger made from a femur. If Rolf's father is to be believed, it was his grandfather's. It's enchanted to be harder than it ought to, and to stay sharp. Other than that, it's just a dagger.
A staff of sandalwood. The runes carved in it are for channeling Rolf's mana into a spell that compels the undead to leave the realm of Life. It's not foolproof, but sometimes it's all he needs to do. Even when it doesn't work outright, it weakens the target for Rolf to cast his own spells.
It has some effect on other non-worldly or non-corporeal creatures.
Personality: A shockingly congenial person. Those who know him by trade first are surprised by his demeanor, and those who know him by demeanor first are surprised by his trade. He has a certain zest for life, enjoys drinking and is often smoking; both habits he will aggressively offer to share with those around him. He is vaguely benevolent, and fairly generous, his simple tastes making greed useless to him.
Bio: Rolf comes from a long line of necromancers in his mountain hamlet of Estercrest. His family has had a great deal of Mana in it for as long as anyone can trace back, and somewhere along that family tree they turned it toward death. Their trade makes some people uneasy, but the people of Estercrest have long since embraced their usefulness, even if they keep their distance socially. The White family have historically used their powers to settle inheritance disputes, find lost things, or even solve murders by simply asking the dead about it.
They are also a force of protection for the village, undead creatures fear to go there, and the White family will even travel when asked by a foreign community.
Rolf is the eldest of three siblings, one shows no gift, and the other is their father's current apprentice. Rolf was the apprentice when he was younger, traveling with his father and learning the art. But he is a fully fledged necromancer in his own right now, and has taken up some of the responsibility, his sister taking his place as apprentice. While his sister is training, she serves Estercrest and the surrounding area with their father. Rolf, meanwhile, takes care of any work that requires travel. His work takes him all over the country, from the most urban of cities to the most remote of villages. He makes good money, and sends much of it home to Estercrest.
A necromancer uses their Mana in an unusual way. Instead of directing it out into the physical realm, they use it to create paths between Life and Death. Through these paths, they can communicate with spirits, or even draw them into Life. This Mana pathway allows the dead spirit passage, and becomes a direct link between the soul of the living necromancer and the dead spirit. It allows communication or, if need be, for the necromancer to bind the spirit to their will and control them. Connecting to Death has an effect on the bodies of the practitioner. It takes away the color of their hair, and makes them sallow and pale. Physically, they are usually of normal health, but they appear to be weakened by it. It is only an appearance, however. Death leaches the color from their bodies, but nothing more.
This same connection can be forged with a being already on this side of the Divide. Since the dark curse enacted by Celestia, many beings return from death to roam the earth, and a necromancer can create a mana bridge to their spirit as well. For a Black Necromancer seeking a servant, this is done easier than pulling the spirit from Death. Meanwhile, a White Necromancer would seek to force this being back into Death.
This connection can also be made with living things, but living vitality in and of itself creates a very strong defense against it. Only the very strong, and quite insidious would even attempt to subvert the will of a living thing. The closer one is to death, though, the less vitality they have and the easier prey they are for a Black Necromancer.
As Mana users, most Necromancers have other tricks up their sleeves, though the practice of necromancer is very time and energy consuming and they would usually learn bare minimums. In addition to this, the sort of magic they seek to learn is often colored by their predilection for the morbid. |
9,870 | 272 | 3 | 964 | 923 | Ved
His hands found their way into his drinking pocket as he watched the great doors of the castle open before him. Only once, at his own home, had he ever seen anything near the intricacy of the engravings in the wood, or anything of such strong quality of wood. As his hand moved casually in his pocket, his fingers found the cold, steel and glass disk he was searching for, and brought it out and to his lips, revealing the ancient tomes carved into his hands and the flask. Protective wards, mana-inducers, etc. were carved all along the flesh of his body, some burned,some cut, and others tattooed, but nonetheless, he had become a tapestry of ancient magical symbolism. The bright amber liquid shown clearly through the transparent class of the disk, and it swished about as his mouth pulled it from it's place, drinking the strong beverage hungrily. He drank heavily, for it dulled the sound of whispers that plagued his mind, and dulled the pain on his flesh from the recent markings.
Sliding the circular disk back into his pocket, he brought his sleeve to his mouth, wiping it slowly to pick up any remaining alcohol that stayed on his lips. Passing on the offered liquor, as he preferred his own, he listened closely to the others, whose names he had yet to pick up, before considering the question on his own. Why was he here? Was it for the handsome pay, the thought of being so prestigious that he could work among royalty, or the thought of an actual challenge. Likely, it was to be a combination of all three in equal parts. After, and If, he finished this Assignment he would be funded beyond anything he could ever imagine, and would likely never need to take another job and still live comfortably, but, with the difficulty of this upcoming job, and the combined networking he would manage during it, he could work for anyone in the land, and his name would become even more common than it actually was, perhaps even a face would finely go along with the name. | Name
Ved Holven J'zcof
Age
24
Gender
Male
Appearance
5'11 a lean, he has a bit more muscle definition than your average cosmic mage.
Personality
INTP
Bio
Born into a house of Magic, he was accustomed to long hours of dutiful study and even longer hours of tireless Practice. He lived far from civilization, a three day walk, so that he and his family could practice freely and outside of closed doors. At a very young age he showed promise, but in a new and unstudied, complicated matter. It began with objects near him levitating, than escalated progressively into pieces and chunks of items levitating, and either disappear, or shattering in a flash of white light.
At the age of thirteen, his family brought in an ancient, and less than sane man named Abdul Alhazred who claimed he knew of the magic used by Ved, and would train and practice him, in exchange for privacy, housing, and livestock. The man brought with him a single spell book, The Kitab al-Azif, which contained a seemingly endless supply of rituals, practices, techniques, and spells. The book now stays within Ved's possession at ALL times, as he refuses to let it loose from his sight.
After several years, Ved has become an experienced user of Cosmic Magic, an arcane and nearly unheard of art that allows it's users draw power from the universe, and use it's quirks for their own purposes, good or bad. His mastery of abilities includes control over gravitational pull, teleportation, and an offensive spell he rarely finds a need to use, which utilizes his control over gravity to send items hurtling toward a target at impossible speeds.
At around the age of 19, his family finally found what the livestock was being used for. The mad Arab had been using them for summoning rituals, for some sort of obscure beast named Lu-Kthu, upon realization of the dark Magic he was using, they kicked the Old Man Out, and turned to Ved for an explanation. He offered none, for the book he based his entire life on spoke highly on the creature. So in turn, he left his home as well, traveling with the old man until his timely passing, and began to work as a mage for hire, his first job a prestigious one.
Upon the completion of his first contract, his name began to spread like a fire. Nowadays, he was unable to pay for a drink, or purchase empty tomes without someone mentioning his name. His reputation had begun to precede him, and he wasn't too fond of the fame. But, if there was one thing good about the whole situation, it was the high paying jobs that came for him. That is, up until the most recent one. A summoning from someone representing the Royal Gaurd. No payment had been discussed. |
9,871 | 272 | 4 | 1,380 | 1,423 | Yes, of course. He matched the guard's formal tone in his response, already knowing of the quest to come. He looked over his shoulder at the servants that scrambled with haste to assemble several cases and bags of gear and clothing from his chambers. A soft sigh announced his liberosis, and he rose about an inch off of the ground. His legs swayed back slightly in a simple levitation as he followed the guard down the ornate corridors of the grand palace.
Similarly to his robes, the carpet that stretched down the hallway was dominated by a vibrant royal sapphire with accents of white. The Caen Limestone walls held many decorations of regal status, such as paintings, tapestry, and fancy mounts for torches during the nights. Above him and the guard hung several chandeliers, spaced about twenty to thirty feet apart. Some hung gems of different sizes and shapes while others had mounts for candles. And every so often, a beam of decaying sunlight would make a weak reflection on the guard's armor, then wipe across the young man's face as they passed a window.
After several minutes of twists, turns and stretches, the Oracle and the guard finally reached the throne room. Lower ranking soldiers stood at either side of the massive hall, and servants bustled back and forth to attend to the noblemen that had gathered. Pillars lined with torches breathed light into the middle of the room, where the morning had failed to caress with its dull daylight. At the edge opposite the massive doors, a silver throne rested on a half-circle rose up by two steps of stairs above the rest of the floor. Large tapestries stretched all they way up to the ceiling, depicting the history of Alexandria.
The Oracle made his way across the room, drawing the attention of the guests, servants and guards alike as he positioned himself before the man on the throne. He lowered to the floor and bent into a well-rehearsed bow before saying "Your Majesty." | Oracle
The Oracle stands at 5'11" and weighs 140lbs. He is lanky underneath extravagant and royal robes, but he wears a dull expression that overpowers his attire.
Age
18
Sex
Male
Supernatural Abilities
Spellcasting
Even at such a young age, the Oracle is a conduit of incredible arcane and divine power, just as the Oracle before him. With almost uncontrolled potency, the Oracle's reserves of mana surge through him to weave spells that are rivaled only by the dark lords of the cursed wastelands between kingdoms. Because of his connection to all of the gods, the Oracle is naturally proficient with all schools of magic.
Personality
True Neutral
Spending his entire life holed up in the royal palace has left the Oracle as a dull shell of the man he could have been. He comes off as apathetic to the ethics and morals of others, and will insist that he is the Oracle and only the Oracle. He even claims to have forgotten the name granted to him at birth.
Biography / History
Over one thousand years ago, the first Oracle was born into the world. She wore on her right palm a holy symbol burned into her soul, an anchor that tethered her to the Guardians and their power, and she used this arcane and divine might to perform the Ritual of the Keepers to declare Aether as the second Keeper of Time. In a dire effort to maintain Aether's seal on Celestia, the Oracle gave her own life, diffusing her power into the Dark Star, sealing Celestia away for good.
Only eighteen years ago, a boy was born with the Emblem of the Oracle in his palm. He was stolen away from his parents and taken to the royal palace of Alexandria to await the day of the Ritual in safety. He was pampered without question throughout his childhood, and has developed little in self-sufficiency or motivation to accomplish anything other than his goal as the Oracle.
But now the time has come to make pilgrimage, a troop of adventures assemble at his side, ready to guide him through the darkness. |
9,872 | 273 | 0 | 622 | 669 | Atop a hill, overlooking the city of Asnio in the small nation of Borovia, sat a manor. Formerly, it served as the government building for the city, back when it had been a part of Austria-Hungary. Supposedly, it now served as the seat of power for the democratically-elected Borovian government, but that, as anyone could see, was a lie. There was no elected government, at least not anymore. The building which once stood for democracy was no a manor for the corrupt and vile. What had existed of the government had either fled to other nations, or been ground under the heel of rampant, uncontrolled capitalism. Now one man stood at the forefront of the nation, ruling with an iron fist and a stone-cold heart: The Robber Baron of Asnio. Having bought out the government, placing himself atop the proverbial throne, he had formed a massive paramilitary group, out of both loyal citizens and foreign mercenaries, armed them with military equipment, and donned them in their signature black uniforms. These Blackshirts, as they had become known, began a massive operation to ensure the populace of Borovia remains working for the Baron and his underlings, and that any dissidence or thoughts of uprising are crushed. The people of Borovia have grown increasingly discontent, and have begun what many are dubbing a 'Revolution'. This has left the Baron most displeased, and he has issued the formation of new units among the Blackshirts, drawing from all the various divisions and branches, to craft elite forces that can combat any threat in any way.
The Robber Baron of Asnio sat at his dining table with a delicious banquet rested in front of him, his first of many for the day. Just as he was about to begin consuming the feast, a man rushed in with what seemed to be a newspaper flapping about in his hand.
"I-I'm sorry to interrupt, your greatness...b-but the newspaper has just published a story! A massive worker's strike has just been declared at one of the manufacturing districts here in the city. Workers are occupying at least five city blocks surrounding the factories, and they intend to take more. They've armed themselves, sir, with tools and weapons gathered from as far away as Prague. What would you have me order."
The Baron let out an exhausted sigh, and carefully folded up his napkin as he looked to his aide. "Send some of the new units, have them break up the strike and confiscate any weapons they find. Tell them that if they're attacked, they are allowed to use any force necessary. Have any normal divisions nearest the strike set up barricades for when the others arrive."
The aide nodded, rushing off to deliver the message. The Baron promptly returned to his meal, gorging himself on his ill-gotten morsels.
Hauptmann Josef Fichter sat with the men of his unit, awaiting their first set of orders. Many of them had served in the Blackshirts for a bit now, having previously served during the Great War, and had been brought together as part of the Baron's plan for quick-response teams. Others were newer to the concept of military life, and it showed. However, all that mattered now was that they were here. A radio played the news in the room with them, the current story describing an event in Berlin, of how an army of German Freikorps assaulting the capital, declaring themselves the new government.
Just then, an aide came through the door, orders in hand. With a prompt salute, he passed them off to Josef, who quickly read them over, before announcing them to his men. "We've got orders. There's a large, armed strike being held in one of the manufacturing sectors. We're going in to try and break it up. We have orders not to use force unless they attack us first, but given that some of them have military weapons, we're likely going to end up in a fight. So gather whatever gear you might need, and we'll get going. Servác, get you're truck ready, as most of us are going to need a ride. Everyone meet up with the truck once you're ready." Handing a paper of directions to the site of the strike to Servác, Josef walked with the others to the armory. | Name: Josef Fichter
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Josef is a rather lean individual, but still has some muscle and strength to him. His hair is a cross between blond and brown, often appearing different depending on the lighting, and he dons an officer's moustache on his upper lip. His black military uniform is crisp and neatly pressed, with his parade and dress uniform adorned with shining medals from both the now-gone Austro-Hungarian Military, and the Borovian Blackshirts.
Unit Profession: Officer
Personality: Josef is an officer to his men first and foremost, and to the Baron second. He works to ensure that the orders he gives have his men's best interests in mind, and if his orders would lead to death or harm for his troops, he does not hesitate to contradict them. He works to maintain a good relationship with his men, wanting them to trust and have faith in him, as well as putting his own trust and faith in them. He sees working with the Blackshirts as a method of bringing stability to a troubled land, and he hopes that if Borovia can be made stable and intact, it can be either reunited with Austria, or perhaps inducted into Germany.
History: Originally a citizen of Austria-Hungary, Josef was among those in-between the working class and the nobility, wealthy but not of high birth. As such, in an attempt to push forward their social careers, Josef's parents enrolled him in an Officer's Academy once he came of age. By the time he had graduated and received his commission, the Great War was in full swing, and Josef found himself at the front lines of the Italian campaign. By the time the war came to an end in 1918, Josef had achieved the rank of Hauptmann, as Well as a Silver Medal of Bravery First Class, a Bronze Medal of Bravery, and a Karl-Cross. Eventually, the collapse of Austria-Hungary would occur, and Josef would find that his home no longer lied in his beloved Austria, but instead in a newly-formed, independent state known as Borovia. Despondent at the loss of his country and state, Josef took to the one thing he knew best: commanding forces. He used his status as both an officer and the heir to a wealthy family, and gained a commission in the Baron's Blackshirts, being given command over a special force drafting mercenaries, loyal citizens, and defectors from other nations.
Equipment:
Mannlicher M1895 Rifle, with Bayonet
Frommer Stop handgun
Infantry Saber
Officer's Spotting Binoculars
Prominent Skills: Josef is a skilled field officer, capable of properly and skillfully organizing troops and planning battles. He's also a skilled parade formation organizer and commander, and a trained user of the rifle, pistol, bayonet, and saber. He speaks German fluently, and can give orders and receive reports in Hungarian and Czech.
Other: Prefers to be addressed as 'Herr Hauptmann' if the subordinate speaks German, otherwise he accepts either the Czech or Hungarian word for Captain, or failing that, the subordinate's native word for Captain. |
9,873 | 273 | 1 | 1,313 | 1,441 | Karl reluctantly turned the radio off. After the Spartakus uprising in Berlin two years ago, talk had been amoung the Freikorpsmen that they would have their turn, and finally, when it had happened, here he was in backwater ex-Austro-Hungaria. It seemed like they were doing pretty well as a matter of fact, so that was certainly nice, hopefully he could return with a pretty Austrian on his hip to the Kaisar's palace. Have some grandkids for his mother to fawn over.
Still, that was his future, and right now, they had a job to do. Giving a quick salute, he walked almost in step with Josef, and he decided to strike up a conversation, or at least attempt to, the armoury door already looming. "Ten to one it's a bunch of communist thugs eh?" He said, glad to be speaking German. Before he had signed on with the count he had been with some Hungarian noble who refused to speak a word of the language, much to his dissapointment.
Inside the armoury, what was his was very clear. The German equipment stuck out like a sore thumb amoungst the surplas gear. He hefted his Gewehr, on which a canvas strap had been attached, and tucked his combat knife into it's holster, following up with his luger, the gun snapping loudly when he slid the magazine in. | Name:Karl 'Jäger' Kötes
Age:
25
Physical Appearance:
Tall and blonde, Karl is, whilst not quite the spitting image of the German soldiers wanted in a mere ninteen years, damned close. He stands at a respectable 5'11" and is stocky, but not overly muscular or fat, with the kind of build that feels solid- as he was a wall made of brick, an asset useful in both intimidation and reassurance when he happens to need to do either.
He keeps his silvery-blonde cropped short in a practical military cut and his eyes are a steel-grey, with a slight twinkle in them even after the Great War. His war wounds, thankfully for him, are few, the stand-out exceptions being a shrapnel scar on the back of his left hand, a thick silvery line that stands out even with his fair skin, and the fact that a shell once went off around the bend of a trench that he was running from, partially deafaning him.
Unit Profession:
Rifleman
Personality:
War can do funny things to a man, the Great War even more so. Whilst men around him died and were injured, Karl somehow manages to stop himself becoming totally ruined, instead reserving his amassing fury for first the Belgian and French soldiers he fought against, ans subsequently his own government for their betrayal of his comrades.
Nowadays, despite his still not-insignificant rage for the nascent Weimar Republic and the Versailles Treaty, he always manages to have a few jokes tucked away in his pocket, right next to a spare stripper clip of ammunition and a no-nonsense attitude for anyone that is unfortunate enough to get in his way.
History:
Like most of the boys who ended up fighting and dying in the trenches, Karl was born to an 'average' family. His father was a butcher, his mother a strong believer in the so-called '4K's, those being Kinder, Kircher, Küche and Kleider, or children, church, clothes and the kitchen, singifying the jobs that women were supposed to do. Eventually, his father managed to earn enough money to buy another butchers shop, and made a decent living, until the call of war shouted for his son.
Karl took to the military well; being around butchered animals had accustomed him to blood and viscera, and although he never excelled within the trenches, a knack for keeping his head down and when to open fire lead to a steadily rising body count, numbering close to 50 by the end of the war. He was no sniper either, but he had been noted by his peers as a rather excellent shot, leading to his nickname of 'Jäger'.
After the war, furious at his government, he left, selling his services as a Freikorpsman for whoever would buy him. Two years on, he ended up with the Baron, gun in hand and ready to earn his keep once more on blood-stained ground.
Equipment:
Mauser Gewehr 98: A steady rifle and one that has stayed by the German's side. Excellent even at long range, and whilst no bolt action is particularly reliable, it can certainly take a beating.
Luger P08
Bayonet
Hand-to-hand weapon- barbed wire wrapped around a carved wooden club
(Rumoured) Looted Ruby Pistolette
Prominent Skills:
Rifling, languages (he speaks three fluently, those being German, Hungarian and French, as well as smatterings of Croatian and Slovak, leadership.
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot)
Karl has kept his Stahlhelm with him, and eschews all other headgear for it. In his words 'head, neck, and makes a good pot for boiling soup. What more could you want?' |
9,874 | 273 | 2 | 481 | 88 | Servác eagerly snapped a salute, partly because of his general eagerness to be ‘soldier’ also partly because it allowed him to get away from the others a little, particularly that strange red-haired man. The blond German was also a lot taller, around 15 centimeters taller, but at the very least was a kind of person he had previously known about. Same thing with the other Slavic soldier but the red-haired man, he wasn’t sure about, he was not particularly pleasant, not in a way like he was rude but Servác wasn’t sure he liked him.
In general, he wasn’t very comfortable around any of the others. It wasn’t like he particularly disliked any of them, it was more an intimidation factor. Being far younger, shorter and lacking combat experience made the others seem more than just physical giants. In any case, he hurried out to grab his equipment before going to the truck.
Checking his pack Servác looks to make sure everything is still there. Some tools for the truck, nothing that would help in any major problem but they were small things for small problems, his trenching spade and some spare magazines for the standard issued weapons. Picking up the weapons Servác head out to the truck presuming nobody stops him, he doesn’t both to load the weapons at that moment, he had a truck to make sure was ready. | Name: Servác Zdráhal
Age: 18
Physical Appearance: Servác is someone identifiably Czech, dark brown eyes, seemingly black in some lights, and somewhat wavy hair of similar but darker coloration. His 5'5" average height, although at his age might not be his full height, build might best be described as lean considering his lack of overt musculature but not fat either. His natural black hair is cut to regimental standard as all facial hair is shaven off.
Unit Profession: Vehicle Driver; Cargo Truck; Tatra TL4 primary vehicle
Personality: He is not a particularly talkative person and is quite taciturn when he does speak at all however if one is able to draw him out one would find a kind of idealism not found in those more directly touched by the war. Although this idealistic attitude comes with some realism he primarily wishes to be a 'soldier' and given his current crowd that might not turn out to be such a good thing. Although he is quiet his wit is usually sharp, though often kept to himself, he rarely makes overt showings of his emotions but his body language is normally the best way to tell.
History: Servác comes from a moderately wealthy family in what used to be the Austro-Hungarian province of Bohemia. His father was one of the few Czechs able to serve with the government and encouraged his son to learn German, not that Servác did that with particular gusto. Two things always mattered to Servác as he grew up both before and during the war, an older cousin Silvestr and vehicles, the ones he would see in the street occasionally were of great importance.
When the war started, twelve at the time, Servác watched his cousin go off to war for the Empire. This not only built up his idealism around soldier-hood but also forced him into his other interest vehicles. Now without a nearby cousin to bug, young Servác was found in most of his free time with various mechanics, some of which showed him parts of their crafts, and as he got older he worked a little for some of them.
While Servác was gaining skills and continuing his education, time and the war continued. 1918 and the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, however his cousin did not come home instead one of his friends from the army came to explain. He was not dead he had defected a few years before to the Russian side and the Czechoslovak legion, and was likely still in Russia. Servác exuberance knew no limit in his ideals about soldiering rose even higher despite the after-war consequences becoming apparent.
This state continued for a while before after a particularly bad argument with his parents, his father mostly, about his future he fled taking his skills and a few things he managed to pick up along the way eventually coming to Borovia. After joining the Blackshirts, particularly because of his not especially common knowledge of vehicles and the repair and driving of them, he has stayed to 'be a soldier' whatever that will mean in Borovia.
Equipment:
Mostly standard issue: Mannlicher M1890 Cavalry Carbine, Frommer Stop Pistol
Acquired as part of his idealization of soldering: Trenching Spade
Issued and used as a truck driver: Tatra TL4 Truck, with mounting for a machine gun emplaced if not used always
Prominent Skills: Truck Driver, Languages (Fluent in Czech, German with a mild accent, Understandable Slovak), Vehicle repair and other mechanics (Often needed if one deals with vehicles of this day a lot)
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot) |
9,875 | 273 | 3 | 1 | 1,945 | Erich Fuchs had finished cleaning and maintaining his equipment shortly before Josef opened the door, announcing their orders.
It had become an habit for Erich to keep his equipment in perfect shape. He didn't liked to trust them to some unknown soldier, so he kept his equipment near him all times
Oiling the blade of his rapier, cleaning his scalpels, ensuring that the telescopic sight on his M1895. It was a new acquisition, coming directly from the Baron's armory, but he had to admit, he took a liking to that rifle, so much that he actually customized his personal rifle. Precise, reliable and it packed quite a punch, it was truly a very effective weapon. His rapier though, was the only part of his equipment he refused to change. It was undeniable that the sight of a rapier on the battlefield was quite strange, but that particular blade accompanied him through many grim moments, and when he most needed it, in situations where weapons and comrades had failed him, it was always there. It was undeniable that it had almost an emotional importance to him.
"So, are we ready then?" he asked in german, looking to the other members while sheathing his rapier on his belt and grabbing his rifle.
The target this time were some rebels, workers that were unsatisfied with the current situation. They were armed, although probably very poorly. Erich really didn't mind the occasional killing. He knew that the world wasn't a kind world, and above everything else, he knew that the only thing, the only true rule of that world was the survival of the strongest. He would mercilessly kill and torture if that meant his survival. That mentality had saved him many times, and it wasn't something that Erich was going to change. But he had to admit, he took the relationship between a team very seriously. For Erich, few things in that world could match the honesty and truthfulness of the relationship between two people who had risked their lives in a battlefield together. He knew that having a team that knew each other and worked well together could be the difference between completing the mission or dying.
As Karl and Josef got out of the room, he followed them inside the armory. He already had his equipment in hand, but he felt it would be interesting to at least accompany them.
"Interesting choice." he said to Karl, looking at the Luger and the Gewehr he picked up.
"Very beautiful weapons, I must say. Why do you keep them at the armoury? Personally, I prefer to keep my weapons near me. I feel more comfortable knowing that I'm the one taking care of them." he said in german. | Name: Erich Weiss
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Red, long hair, that he keeps tied in a single braid, deep cold blue eyes and an ivory white skin. Standing at 1,90m, Erich has a tall, athletic body. His fencing hobby gave him a great stamina, flexibility and agility. His appearance, more specifically his deep red hair and his delicate face, often draw a lot of attention, both from women and men (the latter often provoking and messing with him), but his penetrating blue eyes and his cold expression mostly always turn people away from him.
Unit Profession: Medic
Personality: Some say that his personality matches his distant, cold blue eyes, others say that a devil hides under that blood red hair. The fact is that Erich is a very unique person. He has a cold and calculating mentality but at the same time, he can be surprisingly friendly and warm to valorous companions and friends, even joking around and being a very lively guy. One thing that everyone agrees though, is his penchant for blood and his somewhat sadistic behavior. Nobody knows if he actually likes or if he doesn't really care about being cruel, one thing everyone knows is that Erich can be very cold and cruel if you stand in his way.
Due to being raised in a traditional family, coming from a wealthy and noble lineage, Erich knows how to be polite and formal when needed and is very intelligent. But the time he passed serving as a medic and mercenary, after him abandoning the family made him learn to be cunning and calculating.
History: Erich was born into an old and traditional lineage coming all the way from the nobles from old noble houses from Germany. Obviously, his upbringing was fit of someone born in a wealthy family, private tutors, books, fencing, he had the best things the money and status could buy. Erich was always the sole heir of the family, and as such, he was expected to be a perfect gentleman: intelligent, courteous, polite yet firm on his decisions, and above everything else, be a beacon, a role model for his compatriots to follow. At merely 18 years he was already a surgeon, and a damn good one, thanks to the instruction received from the best tutors and medics around.
When the war began, his family supported the country with all their forces, as it was expected. That included sending the young and still innocent Erich to the war to serve as a medic.
There is a saying that the war can change a person. This saying couldn't be more accurate for the young Erich. Living his entire life being treated differently, practically on his own world, separated from the brutality and violence from the normal world, reality hit him hard. He had to kill many men while serving. Both enemies and allies, those too wounded to be able to survive even with intensive medical care. As a way to protect his own mind from all that, he became the cold, cruel person he is today. Doing what it needed to be done to both ensure his survival and complete his duty as a soldier, he killed, saved, ignored orders, lied and even tortured. Everything with the same cold eyes. Obviously, as the time passed, he stopped caring about being cruel, sometimes even doing things that others could perceive as unnecessarily cruel.
After the end of the war, a completely different Erich returned home only to see what the war did with his once proud family. With the German Mark worth even less each day that passed, the family that once was proud to support their compatriots was found participating in political schemes, bribes and doing whatever they could to maintain their wealth, not caring about their country at all. Erich slowly watched his family's downfall, as they lost everything they had: their money, their lands, their status and even their honor.
Cutting all ties he had with his family, he adopted the surname "Fuchs", due to his red hair. He didn't wanted to carry his family's sins with him, as he had nothing to do with their actions. His name was his alone. Without having anything left in Germany, he became a mercenary. As a superb surgeon, his outstanding long range marksmanship and especially the way he used a rapier to fight, cutting his foe in order to incapacitate and inflict the maximum of pain before killing it, made his fame rise between the mercenaries.
His wanderings led him to a country called Borovia, which he was almost instantly hired as a mercenary for one of the barons on Asnio, the capital of Borovia. Not interested on the political side, he readily accepted the job. It was a good proposal, after all, it would give him food, equipment and somewhere to sleep. Surgeons of his caliber were rare to find, especially working as a mercenary. Thanks to his skills both as a marksman and as a medic, he quickly was invited to be on the Blackshirt army, a paramilitary group that answered to the Baron alone. Again, he had no reason to refuse, and so he accepted the proposal.
His friendly and warm attitude towards the other Blackshirt members would quickly earn him their trust and friendship. He didn't cared about who you were or where you were born. The only thing that mattered was that they would work together. Life was good for him, he had friends, a place to live, was respected as a Blackshirt... But he knew that things could change in the blink of an eye, so he was always prepared for the worse. Noble and wealthy families can fall in a matter of months, the same is true for any government or organization.
Equipment:
Mannlichter M1895 - Customized: Equipped with an 3x telescopic sight and a leather buttstock, allowing a better, more comfortable grip on the weapon.
Frommer Stop - The standard sidearm for the Blackshirts.
Medical Kit: Containing things such as sterile gauze, suture needles and thread, scalpels, isopropyl alcohol & etc.
Prominent Skills:
Surgeon - Erich is an experienced physician and surgeon. Having performed successful surgeries even in the middle of a battle.
Chirurgic Precision - Precision, calmness, logical thinking. The skills who are needed to any combat medic also make him extremely precise with his rifle, especially when using a telescopic sight.
Fencing - One of the results of being raised in a traditional and once noble family.
Languages - German, English and Russian (both with a heavy accent)
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot) |
9,876 | 273 | 4 | 269 | 2,330 | 'Sir, yes, sir!' Pyotr announced once Josef had finished giving out his orders. The Baron's orders, rather, for that was who they served, and why not? It was just another form of fighting, at the end of the day. Grabbing his weapons from next to himself and stowing them on his body, he stood from where he'd been sitting, listening to the radio along with the tall blond Karl, and headed out, not to the front of the building, but instead to a door leading out to its back side. Here was where the stables for the local cavalry horses were kept, and here was where Varvara was located. She was easily spotted, one of the few black horses in the stables round these parts, and all the more beautiful for it.
'Varvara!' he called, agitating her for a moment before he arrived, passing into her stall so as to soothe her. '' he murmured into her ear, speaking in Russian, the language they were both accustomed to, '' he said, smiling at the horse as she gazed back, whether or not she knew what he was saying. ''
Then he allowed her out, and for a brief minute, she ran round the field the horses would frolic in, giving him time to open the gateway out and gather all the necessities for ensuring she remained under control, saddle, stirrups, bit and reins; and once she returned to him, he attached them to her body with practiced ease, finally lifting himself into her saddle and encouraging her to ride out the gate, dismounting only to close it behind them again. And once that was done, it was simply a matter of riding out front to meet his comrades in arms, ready to head out and do the dirty work of crushing this rebellion. | Name: Pyotr Sidorov
Age: 20
Physical Appearance: Pyotr is possessed of a strong Don Cossack heritage: pale-skinned and dark-haired, with sparkling blue eyes and a face that many women could love, topped off by a lean build and a height of 173 cm. Though he'd dress quite colorfully within typical Cossack armies and the Red Guard, the uniform of the Blackshirts does not particularly allow for this, though he does keep his hair grown out somewhat longer than regimental standard.
Unit Profession: Cavalry
Personality: For a man who's knowingly participating in the brutal oppression of a country's population, Pyotr is surprisingly upbeat. Whether it's the exuberance of being a young adult, a lack of comprehension of the effect his actions have upon others, or a degree of sociopathy blunting him to the atrocities being committed in the Robber Baron's name, he tends to show a face to the world that is little other than smiling and optimistic. Rare are the moments when he is morose, and even while sighting some blyat's head with his gun, he tends to retain a cheery smile sure to lighten the mood of his companions.
History: Born on the eve of the new century, Pyotr was rather too young to be considered for service in the Great War, but was nonetheless trained well in the skills the Don Cossack Host held in their culture from youth, namely the arts of horseriding and of war at both short and long range, though never in as serious a situation as his future might suggest. Life was good for him, a state certainly helped by the relatively affluent nature of his familial lineage, so it was a great shame when the Russian Revolution of 1917 took place, in two separate strokes in February and October dethroning the Tsarist regime and replacing it with the Bolshevik party, which consequently decided to persecute a great deal of those Cossacks who previously benefited from the Tsars' favour.
Naturally, this did not sit well with Pyotr, and as soon as his parents gave their blessing, he took his horse Varvara and joined the Volunteer Army, a part of what would be called the White Army serving to try and dethrone the Bolsheviks in the ensuing civil war. For the next several months, he was deployed in but a few engagements with Red forces, mostly relegated to patrolling areas firmly in control of the white movement, and as a result becoming increasingly unhappy. Ironically, it was in his last battle under the White Army's banner that he came to a distressing revelation: ultimately, this was a battle of Russian versus Russian. That wasn't how things should be, he felt, not in a country as great as it had once been.
Thus, with little more than a written note at his last known position making this felt, he defected from the White Army, fleeing back to his home and strongly encouraging his miraculously-still-alive family to flee the country with him, before it was too late. Some members did; others did not. Leaving those who remained to whatever fate might befall them, Pyotr and his group made their way Westward, riding for two months through Russia's lands, and eventually reaching disputed territory between the Red Army and Polish forces at the time. Gradually, relatives peeled off from the group, either to help fight off those damn Bolshevists, or because they were sick of travelling, until by the time he reached the Polish-Czechoslovakian border, Pyotr was on his own, only Varvara and the reminders of his defection left to accompany him.
And yet he travelled further still, feeling restless, and uncontent with simply going back and settling somewhere with another relative. Eventually, he found he had travelled almost the entire length of Czechoslovakia, and so wound up in a small country bordering it, as well as Germany and Austria. A relatively tiny state called Borovia, which it seemed was having some troubles with its working class population. And whilst it was no grand war, Pyotr decided that perhaps this was where he belonged - in his mind, a worker's revolution meant another Red Terror, and what sort of man would he be if he didn't help put down such a threat, even at this small a scale, before it ever began?
So he travelled to the capital of Asnio, got himself hired as a mercenary, and was placed into the ranks of the local capitalist Baron's conscripts; some time later, he was deemed sufficiently skilled as to be relocated to the Blackshirt army proper, and now wears the uniform with no little amount of pride, for the short period of time he's had access to it.
Equipment: Pyotr's weaponry is composed of items stolen as he defected from the White Army, considered against usual Blackshirt fare, and decided to keep around anyway - perhaps unwisely, considering the additional expense the Baron must put into purchasing the ammunition for his weapons probably doesn't put him in good standings with the man.
Dragoon Rifle and detachable bayonet - A weapon from the Mosin-Nagant rifle line with good muzzle velocity and an effective range of up to half a kilometer, this gun is designed for use by mounted infantry such as Pyotr. Not a carbine along the lines of the M1907, but still shorter and lighter than the original M1891, it can and does have both an iron sight scope and a bayonet attached, but requires a stripper clip of five 7.62×54mmR rounds to fully reload, making it somewhat less convenient to use than the en-bloc-bearing Mannlicher in common use by the Blackshirts.
Nagant M1895, "Private's model" - Another Nagant weapon, this a 7-round revolver with a gas seal mechanism that, in combination with 7.62×38mmR rounds designed for use with this weapon, greatly increases the muzzle velocity of its bullet, rivalling and even surpassing that of his Dragoon Rifle. However, its range is sorely limited, the trigger pull is remarkably heavy, its single-action hammer requires recocking after every shot, and the gun is very time-consuming to reload, requiring each cartridge to be ejected and replaced manually. Because of this and his designated role as mounted marksman, Pyotr would rather stick to the Dragoon Rifle and its bayonet even within the pistol's effective range.
Varvara - Pyotr's horse, a black Russian Don about 15.2 hands tall and three years of age. The breed is well known for its stamina and endurance, though currently in short supply, and in fact were bred specifically as mounts for Cossack cavalry so they could travel long distances in short spans of time, with energy to spare. This endurance is not quite as necessary in the urban environments Pyotr is currently posted in, and she is often mildly restless as a result; she is also unarmoured, but as Pyotr prefers to fight from larger distances, this is not an issue quite as frequently as one might imagine.
Prominent Skills:
Horse riding - Pyotr is a skilled rider, able to direct most horses readily enough. Indeed, he has been trained to be able to control them even without the use of reins, freeing up his hands to fire his weapons from atop his mount. Speaking of which...
Marksmanship - Pyotr's sharpshooting skills are damn good. Not only is he great at targeting opponents with a rifle in his own right, he is more than able to do so from atop a horse, accounting for all the creature's movements in the process, a feat matched by few others who are not mounted riflemen themselves.
Melee combat - Less notable in this age of long-distance weaponplay, but when pressed, Pyotr is more than capable of using his bayonet to lethal effect, either mounted on his rifle like the head of a spear or held in hand like a sword or dagger.
Outland survival - Whilst not particularly relevant in an urban environment, Pyotr is more than capable of making do for himself and others in an environment that would otherwise be considered wilderness, namely large stretches of the Russian tundra.
Other: N/A |
9,877 | 273 | 5 | 622 | 669 | Josef nodded to Karl and Erich as they followed him, noting their polite startings to conversation. "There's likely some communist influence in these strikes, but I doubt we'll know unless we take some of them prisoner, which we likely will."
Noting that Erich had spoken to Karl, Josef turned to take to his gear, gathering his rifle and officer's sword, his pistol having already been on him. All three weapons had been his during the Great War as well, and so they bore a bit of customization and identification. The rifle's sights had been modified to measure in meters rather than the old paces, while the stock bore a carving of his name, and several tally marks from kills. The saber was well cared for, as was the sheath, the metal still just as bright as the day it was issued. Josef took these weapons, latching them over him, and once Karl and Erich were ready, heading out towards where Servác kept the truck.
Approaching the truck, Josef called out to Servác. "I hope you're ready to go, everyone else is." If they were, he'd climb into the rear of the truck, and after helping everyone else in, give the signal to go. | Name: Josef Fichter
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Josef is a rather lean individual, but still has some muscle and strength to him. His hair is a cross between blond and brown, often appearing different depending on the lighting, and he dons an officer's moustache on his upper lip. His black military uniform is crisp and neatly pressed, with his parade and dress uniform adorned with shining medals from both the now-gone Austro-Hungarian Military, and the Borovian Blackshirts.
Unit Profession: Officer
Personality: Josef is an officer to his men first and foremost, and to the Baron second. He works to ensure that the orders he gives have his men's best interests in mind, and if his orders would lead to death or harm for his troops, he does not hesitate to contradict them. He works to maintain a good relationship with his men, wanting them to trust and have faith in him, as well as putting his own trust and faith in them. He sees working with the Blackshirts as a method of bringing stability to a troubled land, and he hopes that if Borovia can be made stable and intact, it can be either reunited with Austria, or perhaps inducted into Germany.
History: Originally a citizen of Austria-Hungary, Josef was among those in-between the working class and the nobility, wealthy but not of high birth. As such, in an attempt to push forward their social careers, Josef's parents enrolled him in an Officer's Academy once he came of age. By the time he had graduated and received his commission, the Great War was in full swing, and Josef found himself at the front lines of the Italian campaign. By the time the war came to an end in 1918, Josef had achieved the rank of Hauptmann, as Well as a Silver Medal of Bravery First Class, a Bronze Medal of Bravery, and a Karl-Cross. Eventually, the collapse of Austria-Hungary would occur, and Josef would find that his home no longer lied in his beloved Austria, but instead in a newly-formed, independent state known as Borovia. Despondent at the loss of his country and state, Josef took to the one thing he knew best: commanding forces. He used his status as both an officer and the heir to a wealthy family, and gained a commission in the Baron's Blackshirts, being given command over a special force drafting mercenaries, loyal citizens, and defectors from other nations.
Equipment:
Mannlicher M1895 Rifle, with Bayonet
Frommer Stop handgun
Infantry Saber
Officer's Spotting Binoculars
Prominent Skills: Josef is a skilled field officer, capable of properly and skillfully organizing troops and planning battles. He's also a skilled parade formation organizer and commander, and a trained user of the rifle, pistol, bayonet, and saber. He speaks German fluently, and can give orders and receive reports in Hungarian and Czech.
Other: Prefers to be addressed as 'Herr Hauptmann' if the subordinate speaks German, otherwise he accepts either the Czech or Hungarian word for Captain, or failing that, the subordinate's native word for Captain. |
9,878 | 273 | 6 | 269 | 2,330 | If Pyotr had heard Josef mention communism, he'd likely have had a few words to say on the topic of the Bolsheviks, none of them good. As it was, he was none the wiser as he met up with the rest of the crew at the front of the building, happy as ever. Riding what his thing, so he often claimed, and he found it hard to imagine a better time than riding full-speed on the back of a sturdy steed. Maybe fucking a nubile and eager lady, of course, as many men might agree, but it'd be a very close second, if that.
'I know I am!' he called, having heard Josef yell over at Servác. Nice guy. That said, he trotted Varvara over to stand by Karl, glancing down at the tall German with a grin on his face. It was funny, really - you could be as tall as you wanted, and yet a man on a horse would still tower over you. 'So Karl,' he uttered, 'are you ready to keep these silly peasants in line? Varvara has been cooped up for very long, so she is extremely eager to stomp them under her hooves! Maybe. She is a horse, so perhaps yes, perhaps no.' | Name: Pyotr Sidorov
Age: 20
Physical Appearance: Pyotr is possessed of a strong Don Cossack heritage: pale-skinned and dark-haired, with sparkling blue eyes and a face that many women could love, topped off by a lean build and a height of 173 cm. Though he'd dress quite colorfully within typical Cossack armies and the Red Guard, the uniform of the Blackshirts does not particularly allow for this, though he does keep his hair grown out somewhat longer than regimental standard.
Unit Profession: Cavalry
Personality: For a man who's knowingly participating in the brutal oppression of a country's population, Pyotr is surprisingly upbeat. Whether it's the exuberance of being a young adult, a lack of comprehension of the effect his actions have upon others, or a degree of sociopathy blunting him to the atrocities being committed in the Robber Baron's name, he tends to show a face to the world that is little other than smiling and optimistic. Rare are the moments when he is morose, and even while sighting some blyat's head with his gun, he tends to retain a cheery smile sure to lighten the mood of his companions.
History: Born on the eve of the new century, Pyotr was rather too young to be considered for service in the Great War, but was nonetheless trained well in the skills the Don Cossack Host held in their culture from youth, namely the arts of horseriding and of war at both short and long range, though never in as serious a situation as his future might suggest. Life was good for him, a state certainly helped by the relatively affluent nature of his familial lineage, so it was a great shame when the Russian Revolution of 1917 took place, in two separate strokes in February and October dethroning the Tsarist regime and replacing it with the Bolshevik party, which consequently decided to persecute a great deal of those Cossacks who previously benefited from the Tsars' favour.
Naturally, this did not sit well with Pyotr, and as soon as his parents gave their blessing, he took his horse Varvara and joined the Volunteer Army, a part of what would be called the White Army serving to try and dethrone the Bolsheviks in the ensuing civil war. For the next several months, he was deployed in but a few engagements with Red forces, mostly relegated to patrolling areas firmly in control of the white movement, and as a result becoming increasingly unhappy. Ironically, it was in his last battle under the White Army's banner that he came to a distressing revelation: ultimately, this was a battle of Russian versus Russian. That wasn't how things should be, he felt, not in a country as great as it had once been.
Thus, with little more than a written note at his last known position making this felt, he defected from the White Army, fleeing back to his home and strongly encouraging his miraculously-still-alive family to flee the country with him, before it was too late. Some members did; others did not. Leaving those who remained to whatever fate might befall them, Pyotr and his group made their way Westward, riding for two months through Russia's lands, and eventually reaching disputed territory between the Red Army and Polish forces at the time. Gradually, relatives peeled off from the group, either to help fight off those damn Bolshevists, or because they were sick of travelling, until by the time he reached the Polish-Czechoslovakian border, Pyotr was on his own, only Varvara and the reminders of his defection left to accompany him.
And yet he travelled further still, feeling restless, and uncontent with simply going back and settling somewhere with another relative. Eventually, he found he had travelled almost the entire length of Czechoslovakia, and so wound up in a small country bordering it, as well as Germany and Austria. A relatively tiny state called Borovia, which it seemed was having some troubles with its working class population. And whilst it was no grand war, Pyotr decided that perhaps this was where he belonged - in his mind, a worker's revolution meant another Red Terror, and what sort of man would he be if he didn't help put down such a threat, even at this small a scale, before it ever began?
So he travelled to the capital of Asnio, got himself hired as a mercenary, and was placed into the ranks of the local capitalist Baron's conscripts; some time later, he was deemed sufficiently skilled as to be relocated to the Blackshirt army proper, and now wears the uniform with no little amount of pride, for the short period of time he's had access to it.
Equipment: Pyotr's weaponry is composed of items stolen as he defected from the White Army, considered against usual Blackshirt fare, and decided to keep around anyway - perhaps unwisely, considering the additional expense the Baron must put into purchasing the ammunition for his weapons probably doesn't put him in good standings with the man.
Dragoon Rifle and detachable bayonet - A weapon from the Mosin-Nagant rifle line with good muzzle velocity and an effective range of up to half a kilometer, this gun is designed for use by mounted infantry such as Pyotr. Not a carbine along the lines of the M1907, but still shorter and lighter than the original M1891, it can and does have both an iron sight scope and a bayonet attached, but requires a stripper clip of five 7.62×54mmR rounds to fully reload, making it somewhat less convenient to use than the en-bloc-bearing Mannlicher in common use by the Blackshirts.
Nagant M1895, "Private's model" - Another Nagant weapon, this a 7-round revolver with a gas seal mechanism that, in combination with 7.62×38mmR rounds designed for use with this weapon, greatly increases the muzzle velocity of its bullet, rivalling and even surpassing that of his Dragoon Rifle. However, its range is sorely limited, the trigger pull is remarkably heavy, its single-action hammer requires recocking after every shot, and the gun is very time-consuming to reload, requiring each cartridge to be ejected and replaced manually. Because of this and his designated role as mounted marksman, Pyotr would rather stick to the Dragoon Rifle and its bayonet even within the pistol's effective range.
Varvara - Pyotr's horse, a black Russian Don about 15.2 hands tall and three years of age. The breed is well known for its stamina and endurance, though currently in short supply, and in fact were bred specifically as mounts for Cossack cavalry so they could travel long distances in short spans of time, with energy to spare. This endurance is not quite as necessary in the urban environments Pyotr is currently posted in, and she is often mildly restless as a result; she is also unarmoured, but as Pyotr prefers to fight from larger distances, this is not an issue quite as frequently as one might imagine.
Prominent Skills:
Horse riding - Pyotr is a skilled rider, able to direct most horses readily enough. Indeed, he has been trained to be able to control them even without the use of reins, freeing up his hands to fire his weapons from atop his mount. Speaking of which...
Marksmanship - Pyotr's sharpshooting skills are damn good. Not only is he great at targeting opponents with a rifle in his own right, he is more than able to do so from atop a horse, accounting for all the creature's movements in the process, a feat matched by few others who are not mounted riflemen themselves.
Melee combat - Less notable in this age of long-distance weaponplay, but when pressed, Pyotr is more than capable of using his bayonet to lethal effect, either mounted on his rifle like the head of a spear or held in hand like a sword or dagger.
Outland survival - Whilst not particularly relevant in an urban environment, Pyotr is more than capable of making do for himself and others in an environment that would otherwise be considered wilderness, namely large stretches of the Russian tundra.
Other: N/A |
9,879 | 273 | 7 | 1,313 | 1,441 | They are weapons, said Karl simply. "Excellent peices of proper German engineering, yes, but weapons nonetheless. I take care of them, they serve me well, and they live with the other weapons where they have company." He laughed and patted the butt of the gun gently, turning to the good captain. "They're always communists. Bastards."
"As for why I seriously keep them in the armoury? It is where they are safest. Attempting to raid the baron's armoury is a death sentence. My room in the barracks? Less so, especilly since I'm normally in a much more feminine room every night." He winked as he chatted to Erich, before rapping his stahlhelm heavily.
"Ja, let us get going!"
He smiled as the Russian approached. The man was a little odd, that much was clear, but funny, yes. A little bit in the clouds but good where it counted. "I think a good horse like Bavaria-" Karl had long since given up calling the horse its true name. The province was much easier for him to pronounce, and more memorable "should always be ready to stamp on some enemies of the state. Isn't that right?"
He hefted himself up imto the back of the van, hammering on the bench and shouting. "Servác, my good man! Let's get this show on the road!" | Name:Karl 'Jäger' Kötes
Age:
25
Physical Appearance:
Tall and blonde, Karl is, whilst not quite the spitting image of the German soldiers wanted in a mere ninteen years, damned close. He stands at a respectable 5'11" and is stocky, but not overly muscular or fat, with the kind of build that feels solid- as he was a wall made of brick, an asset useful in both intimidation and reassurance when he happens to need to do either.
He keeps his silvery-blonde cropped short in a practical military cut and his eyes are a steel-grey, with a slight twinkle in them even after the Great War. His war wounds, thankfully for him, are few, the stand-out exceptions being a shrapnel scar on the back of his left hand, a thick silvery line that stands out even with his fair skin, and the fact that a shell once went off around the bend of a trench that he was running from, partially deafaning him.
Unit Profession:
Rifleman
Personality:
War can do funny things to a man, the Great War even more so. Whilst men around him died and were injured, Karl somehow manages to stop himself becoming totally ruined, instead reserving his amassing fury for first the Belgian and French soldiers he fought against, ans subsequently his own government for their betrayal of his comrades.
Nowadays, despite his still not-insignificant rage for the nascent Weimar Republic and the Versailles Treaty, he always manages to have a few jokes tucked away in his pocket, right next to a spare stripper clip of ammunition and a no-nonsense attitude for anyone that is unfortunate enough to get in his way.
History:
Like most of the boys who ended up fighting and dying in the trenches, Karl was born to an 'average' family. His father was a butcher, his mother a strong believer in the so-called '4K's, those being Kinder, Kircher, Küche and Kleider, or children, church, clothes and the kitchen, singifying the jobs that women were supposed to do. Eventually, his father managed to earn enough money to buy another butchers shop, and made a decent living, until the call of war shouted for his son.
Karl took to the military well; being around butchered animals had accustomed him to blood and viscera, and although he never excelled within the trenches, a knack for keeping his head down and when to open fire lead to a steadily rising body count, numbering close to 50 by the end of the war. He was no sniper either, but he had been noted by his peers as a rather excellent shot, leading to his nickname of 'Jäger'.
After the war, furious at his government, he left, selling his services as a Freikorpsman for whoever would buy him. Two years on, he ended up with the Baron, gun in hand and ready to earn his keep once more on blood-stained ground.
Equipment:
Mauser Gewehr 98: A steady rifle and one that has stayed by the German's side. Excellent even at long range, and whilst no bolt action is particularly reliable, it can certainly take a beating.
Luger P08
Bayonet
Hand-to-hand weapon- barbed wire wrapped around a carved wooden club
(Rumoured) Looted Ruby Pistolette
Prominent Skills:
Rifling, languages (he speaks three fluently, those being German, Hungarian and French, as well as smatterings of Croatian and Slovak, leadership.
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot)
Karl has kept his Stahlhelm with him, and eschews all other headgear for it. In his words 'head, neck, and makes a good pot for boiling soup. What more could you want?' |
9,880 | 273 | 8 | 1 | 1,945 | Fine pieces of German engineering, indeed they are. he said, looking to it.
"Solid, beautiful and reliable. German engineering never let me down."
"Although i must say that i grew quite fond of this one here." he said, holding his m1890 and looking through its telescopic sight.
"Its quite enjoyable to shoot with."
"As for why I seriously keep them in the armoury? It is where they are safest. Attempting to raid the baron's armoury is a death sentence. My room in the barracks? Less so, especilly since I'm normally in a much more feminine room every night."
"True... Although i do enjoy to give my equipment a more... personal care, if you understand what i mean."
"Feminine rooms eh? That explains the big smile on your face every time i see you!" he said, laughing.
As he got out of the armoury together with Karl and Josef, meeting with Pyotr and Servác outside.
"Lets go then. Try to not get shot, i don't particularly enjoy having to sew your asses back together." he said with a grin, in a playful tone as he climbed back into Servác's truck. | Name: Erich Weiss
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Red, long hair, that he keeps tied in a single braid, deep cold blue eyes and an ivory white skin. Standing at 1,90m, Erich has a tall, athletic body. His fencing hobby gave him a great stamina, flexibility and agility. His appearance, more specifically his deep red hair and his delicate face, often draw a lot of attention, both from women and men (the latter often provoking and messing with him), but his penetrating blue eyes and his cold expression mostly always turn people away from him.
Unit Profession: Medic
Personality: Some say that his personality matches his distant, cold blue eyes, others say that a devil hides under that blood red hair. The fact is that Erich is a very unique person. He has a cold and calculating mentality but at the same time, he can be surprisingly friendly and warm to valorous companions and friends, even joking around and being a very lively guy. One thing that everyone agrees though, is his penchant for blood and his somewhat sadistic behavior. Nobody knows if he actually likes or if he doesn't really care about being cruel, one thing everyone knows is that Erich can be very cold and cruel if you stand in his way.
Due to being raised in a traditional family, coming from a wealthy and noble lineage, Erich knows how to be polite and formal when needed and is very intelligent. But the time he passed serving as a medic and mercenary, after him abandoning the family made him learn to be cunning and calculating.
History: Erich was born into an old and traditional lineage coming all the way from the nobles from old noble houses from Germany. Obviously, his upbringing was fit of someone born in a wealthy family, private tutors, books, fencing, he had the best things the money and status could buy. Erich was always the sole heir of the family, and as such, he was expected to be a perfect gentleman: intelligent, courteous, polite yet firm on his decisions, and above everything else, be a beacon, a role model for his compatriots to follow. At merely 18 years he was already a surgeon, and a damn good one, thanks to the instruction received from the best tutors and medics around.
When the war began, his family supported the country with all their forces, as it was expected. That included sending the young and still innocent Erich to the war to serve as a medic.
There is a saying that the war can change a person. This saying couldn't be more accurate for the young Erich. Living his entire life being treated differently, practically on his own world, separated from the brutality and violence from the normal world, reality hit him hard. He had to kill many men while serving. Both enemies and allies, those too wounded to be able to survive even with intensive medical care. As a way to protect his own mind from all that, he became the cold, cruel person he is today. Doing what it needed to be done to both ensure his survival and complete his duty as a soldier, he killed, saved, ignored orders, lied and even tortured. Everything with the same cold eyes. Obviously, as the time passed, he stopped caring about being cruel, sometimes even doing things that others could perceive as unnecessarily cruel.
After the end of the war, a completely different Erich returned home only to see what the war did with his once proud family. With the German Mark worth even less each day that passed, the family that once was proud to support their compatriots was found participating in political schemes, bribes and doing whatever they could to maintain their wealth, not caring about their country at all. Erich slowly watched his family's downfall, as they lost everything they had: their money, their lands, their status and even their honor.
Cutting all ties he had with his family, he adopted the surname "Fuchs", due to his red hair. He didn't wanted to carry his family's sins with him, as he had nothing to do with their actions. His name was his alone. Without having anything left in Germany, he became a mercenary. As a superb surgeon, his outstanding long range marksmanship and especially the way he used a rapier to fight, cutting his foe in order to incapacitate and inflict the maximum of pain before killing it, made his fame rise between the mercenaries.
His wanderings led him to a country called Borovia, which he was almost instantly hired as a mercenary for one of the barons on Asnio, the capital of Borovia. Not interested on the political side, he readily accepted the job. It was a good proposal, after all, it would give him food, equipment and somewhere to sleep. Surgeons of his caliber were rare to find, especially working as a mercenary. Thanks to his skills both as a marksman and as a medic, he quickly was invited to be on the Blackshirt army, a paramilitary group that answered to the Baron alone. Again, he had no reason to refuse, and so he accepted the proposal.
His friendly and warm attitude towards the other Blackshirt members would quickly earn him their trust and friendship. He didn't cared about who you were or where you were born. The only thing that mattered was that they would work together. Life was good for him, he had friends, a place to live, was respected as a Blackshirt... But he knew that things could change in the blink of an eye, so he was always prepared for the worse. Noble and wealthy families can fall in a matter of months, the same is true for any government or organization.
Equipment:
Mannlichter M1895 - Customized: Equipped with an 3x telescopic sight and a leather buttstock, allowing a better, more comfortable grip on the weapon.
Frommer Stop - The standard sidearm for the Blackshirts.
Medical Kit: Containing things such as sterile gauze, suture needles and thread, scalpels, isopropyl alcohol & etc.
Prominent Skills:
Surgeon - Erich is an experienced physician and surgeon. Having performed successful surgeries even in the middle of a battle.
Chirurgic Precision - Precision, calmness, logical thinking. The skills who are needed to any combat medic also make him extremely precise with his rifle, especially when using a telescopic sight.
Fencing - One of the results of being raised in a traditional and once noble family.
Languages - German, English and Russian (both with a heavy accent)
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot) |
9,881 | 273 | 9 | 481 | 88 | After checking the truck over for any overt signs of dysfunction Servác starts up the engine, and after nothing breaks begins attempting to visualize the route that will take do these instructions. He mouths the words as he reads them, not entirely comfortable with the written language, but he has no problems understanding it.
Servác was caught out of his mental visualization of the route they would be taking by Josef's call. He watched to check and make sure of the Hauptmann's seating before shifting his bag into the passenger side seat as well as the standard issue weapons. Waiting, watching, and listening as the others boarded, or in the case of the other Slav arrive. Trying to ignore Karl's hammering and shouting, while waiting for the Hauptmann's signal and when given taking the Truck out to drive off on the known route.
Servác makes an effort to ensure a distance between Varvara and his truck, having seen some of the awful things that become of vehicles which have gotten caught in with larger animals. Also partly because the beast probably didn't deserve that either, on second thought. | Name: Servác Zdráhal
Age: 18
Physical Appearance: Servác is someone identifiably Czech, dark brown eyes, seemingly black in some lights, and somewhat wavy hair of similar but darker coloration. His 5'5" average height, although at his age might not be his full height, build might best be described as lean considering his lack of overt musculature but not fat either. His natural black hair is cut to regimental standard as all facial hair is shaven off.
Unit Profession: Vehicle Driver; Cargo Truck; Tatra TL4 primary vehicle
Personality: He is not a particularly talkative person and is quite taciturn when he does speak at all however if one is able to draw him out one would find a kind of idealism not found in those more directly touched by the war. Although this idealistic attitude comes with some realism he primarily wishes to be a 'soldier' and given his current crowd that might not turn out to be such a good thing. Although he is quiet his wit is usually sharp, though often kept to himself, he rarely makes overt showings of his emotions but his body language is normally the best way to tell.
History: Servác comes from a moderately wealthy family in what used to be the Austro-Hungarian province of Bohemia. His father was one of the few Czechs able to serve with the government and encouraged his son to learn German, not that Servác did that with particular gusto. Two things always mattered to Servác as he grew up both before and during the war, an older cousin Silvestr and vehicles, the ones he would see in the street occasionally were of great importance.
When the war started, twelve at the time, Servác watched his cousin go off to war for the Empire. This not only built up his idealism around soldier-hood but also forced him into his other interest vehicles. Now without a nearby cousin to bug, young Servác was found in most of his free time with various mechanics, some of which showed him parts of their crafts, and as he got older he worked a little for some of them.
While Servác was gaining skills and continuing his education, time and the war continued. 1918 and the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, however his cousin did not come home instead one of his friends from the army came to explain. He was not dead he had defected a few years before to the Russian side and the Czechoslovak legion, and was likely still in Russia. Servác exuberance knew no limit in his ideals about soldiering rose even higher despite the after-war consequences becoming apparent.
This state continued for a while before after a particularly bad argument with his parents, his father mostly, about his future he fled taking his skills and a few things he managed to pick up along the way eventually coming to Borovia. After joining the Blackshirts, particularly because of his not especially common knowledge of vehicles and the repair and driving of them, he has stayed to 'be a soldier' whatever that will mean in Borovia.
Equipment:
Mostly standard issue: Mannlicher M1890 Cavalry Carbine, Frommer Stop Pistol
Acquired as part of his idealization of soldering: Trenching Spade
Issued and used as a truck driver: Tatra TL4 Truck, with mounting for a machine gun emplaced if not used always
Prominent Skills: Truck Driver, Languages (Fluent in Czech, German with a mild accent, Understandable Slovak), Vehicle repair and other mechanics (Often needed if one deals with vehicles of this day a lot)
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot) |
9,882 | 273 | 10 | 2,051 | 204 | Jawohl! Bruno thundered with a crisp salute at the confirmation of his commanders instructions. With a spin on his heels Bruno marched out of his office toward his next orders. He had been reassigned to another unit within the Blackshirts. Unfortunately he wasn't given much of a briefing on his orders other than breaking up a "military disturbance". Bruno was relatively new to the blackshirts, but not the lifestyle. Due to the mandatory conscription of all boys in Switzerland he had already got a good taste of what was to be expected. In his opinion, the flavor was good. His father had been in the military most of his life, but like Bruno, had never experienced any real foreign threat. Bruno couldn't say he wasn't at least a little nervous, considering this may be one of the first times he had encountered any real danger.
Upon exiting the office, Bruno grabbed his K11 rifle leaning against the corner of the wall. He brought the leather strap attached to the rifle over his shoulder and picked up his kit that was laying next to it. His uniform was sharp, very sharp, and he knew it too. His uniform and kit made him feel dynamic and powerful. However, he couldn't relish this moment for too long, he had an assignment to complete. Bruno left the building and jogged at a reasonable pace to where the rest of his unit was located.
First, he saw the truck. With an acute intuition, he assumed that the rest of his unit was inside. Bruno moved up to the rear of the truck and peeked inside with his free hand before the truck drove off and his unit left him behind.
"Bruno Leuthard reporting! I was reassigned to Herr Fichter's unit last minute. I hope I'm in the right place!" he said confidently over the noise from the truck's engine. | Nᴀᴍᴇ Bruno Leuthard
Aɢᴇ 23
Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ Bruno is an average lad, standing at about 5'7" and weighing in around 150 lb. He was lean like a boxer, and had some muscle to him that he built up over the years. Bruno resembled both his German father and his French mother. His skin was of a fair tone which complimented his facial features which were strong and chiseled, most notably around his jawline.
His hair, a dark umber, was kept buzzed around his ears and at the bottom. It was a short military length (but not yet crop top length) on the sides, but Bruno liked to keep it slightly longer on the top and slicked back neatly. In terms of facial hair, Bruno keeps a clean cut, or at most, very light stubble.
Uɴɪᴛ Pʀᴏꜰᴇssɪᴏɴ Rifleman
Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ Bruno's parents taught him his please and thank you's very well. Generally, Bruno is a polite and respectful individual both to his friends and his superiors. He believes a diplomatic approach to hostile situations should be attempted first before any rash decisions are made. However, this doesn't mean that he is weak. He is a very disciplined, strong-willed individual who will not hesitate to use violence if a social situation is escalated to that point. Bruno keeps to a fairly strict "3 strikes" rule and doesn't deviate from it very often. It is his understanding that a simple and direct solution to a problem is the best path to success, and that problems should always be dealt with head on. Overall, he is an unshaken optimist who's loyal to his friends and family.
Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ Bruno was born to a working class family on the outskirts of Zürich, Switzerland in 1897 while the powder keg in Europe was forming. His family could have been considered upper-working class for the wealth they obtained. Bruno's father was a military officer and his mother weaved blankets for both a living and as a hobby. His family could only afford to pay for his education until 1913 when Bruno was conscripted into the Swiss military at the age of 16. Due to the fact that Switzerland was a multicultural hub crushed between three superpowers (Germany, France, & Italy), he was required to learn German, French, and Italian.
Though was given thorough military training, due to Switzerland's neutrality during the first world war, he never actually saw any action on the battlefield. His older half-brother however, who he considered a full brother, was an infantry unit in the German military and would write him letters from in the trenches. Amid his experience, he obtained the rank of Oberwachtmeister before leaving the military after the war in 1918 at the age of 21. Keeping his K11 rifle, he became an immigration officer at the border between Switzerland and Germany so he could earn enough money to take care of his mother and father during their retirement, as well as his half-brother who was now a wounded war veteran that was staying with them. Bruno held that position for two years, but when savings were running low, it was clear that Bruno wasn't making enough to maintain his family, so he immigrated to the fairly new state of Borovia in search of opportunity. Upon contact with the Baron and enlisted in the blackshirts to forcefully suppress rumors of a revolution.
EǫᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛSchmidt–Rubin Model 1911 "K11" Rifle, w/ bayonet.
7.5×55mm Swiss rounds.
Frommer Stop Pistol.
Water canteen.
Club.
Pʀᴏᴍɪɴᴇɴᴛ SᴋɪʟʟsAnalytical skills: Bruno is very perceptive and has a keen eye for reading peoples faces. This was developed when he was an immigration officer at the border of Switzerland and Germany.
Military training: During his military training, Bruno became an excellent marksman -- best of his squad. He also learned how to use his bayonet effectively and was part of a ski platoon that patrolled the Swiss alps.
Multi-lingual: Fluent in German, French, and Italian.
Charismatic: Bruno has a way with words that are slick and persuasive. He got this talent from his dad, and tends to use it to his advantage. |
9,883 | 273 | 11 | 622 | 669 | Josef leaned out of the truck to speak with the new arrival, who certainly had a knack for dramatic timing. Looking over the newcomer, he spoke with his usual commanding tone. "Yes, that's me, Josef Fichter. I suppose I'm to be your new commanding officer, then. Well, hop in, we haven't all day."
Once everyone was properly within the truck, Josef would wave a goodbye to Pyotr, make sure Servác knew it was clear to go, and once they were moving, give one last clarification on their objective.
"As most of you were told back when I first got our orders, we're moving in to break up a large laborer's strike in one of the industrial areas of town. Word has it that these people are a bit more than rowdy peasants, some having access to military arms, believed to be shipping in from Germany, Czechoslovakia, Austria, and possibly even farther, so we'll likely be dealing with weapons from all over. Now our orders say we're supposed to try and break up the strike non-violently first, and capture any ringleaders we can. But given the level of arms we're seeing, that may not be possible, so be prepared to fight. Leuthard, I suppose introductions are in order. The boy driving the truck is Servác, he's our ride most places. Mr. Tall-and-Red is Erich, our doctor. And the solid German brick there is Karl. The one on the horse was Pyotr, our resident Cossack. I'm sure they'll all have plenty to talk about with you once we get back."
When the truck would arrive at the destination, the group would find a barricade wall erected by the more regular blackshirt forces, separating the rest of the city from the strikers, guarded primarily with riflemen, but the occasional machine gun nest also found along its length. Josef would give the order for everyone to disembark from the truck, and once Pyotr arrived on his horse, break down the mission instructions.
"The main group will be comprised of myself, Karl, and the new blood, Leuthard. We'll be in front, working to quell down the rioting. Pyotr, you'll be a bit behind us, providing support fire if things get hot, and able to bring messages back if we need you to. Servác, you and Erich will stay with the truck about two blocks behind us at any given time. If someone gets hurt, we'll have Pyotr run a message back to you to bring the truck up, so we can get whoever's injured out of the line of fire. as quickly as possible. Same plan for if we need to take any prisoners." Upon mentioning prisoners, Josef would hand Karl and Bruno each two pairs of metal shackles. "Use these if we take anyone alive, which we should try to do."
Leading the others to the gate, he would salute the guard, who would hand him a large metal megaphone, and open the gate. Upon the other side could be seen a large group of civilians, many armed with crudely-made weapons or modified farm implements, though there was also a notable number carrying rifles.
Taking the megaphone in one hand, and raising it to his mouth, Josef shouted to the mob of peasantry, speaking first in German, then repeating the message in Czech. "Citizens of Asnio, you are in violation of both city and national law. Please lay down your weapons, and submit yourself for arrest. If you do not comply, we are authorized to detain and disperse you by any means necessary." As he spoke, various objects came flying towards the group, smashing against the ground, buildings, and barricade around them.
"Move in. If they shoot first, then we can open fire. But until then, just stick to hitting them over the head." | Name: Josef Fichter
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Josef is a rather lean individual, but still has some muscle and strength to him. His hair is a cross between blond and brown, often appearing different depending on the lighting, and he dons an officer's moustache on his upper lip. His black military uniform is crisp and neatly pressed, with his parade and dress uniform adorned with shining medals from both the now-gone Austro-Hungarian Military, and the Borovian Blackshirts.
Unit Profession: Officer
Personality: Josef is an officer to his men first and foremost, and to the Baron second. He works to ensure that the orders he gives have his men's best interests in mind, and if his orders would lead to death or harm for his troops, he does not hesitate to contradict them. He works to maintain a good relationship with his men, wanting them to trust and have faith in him, as well as putting his own trust and faith in them. He sees working with the Blackshirts as a method of bringing stability to a troubled land, and he hopes that if Borovia can be made stable and intact, it can be either reunited with Austria, or perhaps inducted into Germany.
History: Originally a citizen of Austria-Hungary, Josef was among those in-between the working class and the nobility, wealthy but not of high birth. As such, in an attempt to push forward their social careers, Josef's parents enrolled him in an Officer's Academy once he came of age. By the time he had graduated and received his commission, the Great War was in full swing, and Josef found himself at the front lines of the Italian campaign. By the time the war came to an end in 1918, Josef had achieved the rank of Hauptmann, as Well as a Silver Medal of Bravery First Class, a Bronze Medal of Bravery, and a Karl-Cross. Eventually, the collapse of Austria-Hungary would occur, and Josef would find that his home no longer lied in his beloved Austria, but instead in a newly-formed, independent state known as Borovia. Despondent at the loss of his country and state, Josef took to the one thing he knew best: commanding forces. He used his status as both an officer and the heir to a wealthy family, and gained a commission in the Baron's Blackshirts, being given command over a special force drafting mercenaries, loyal citizens, and defectors from other nations.
Equipment:
Mannlicher M1895 Rifle, with Bayonet
Frommer Stop handgun
Infantry Saber
Officer's Spotting Binoculars
Prominent Skills: Josef is a skilled field officer, capable of properly and skillfully organizing troops and planning battles. He's also a skilled parade formation organizer and commander, and a trained user of the rifle, pistol, bayonet, and saber. He speaks German fluently, and can give orders and receive reports in Hungarian and Czech.
Other: Prefers to be addressed as 'Herr Hauptmann' if the subordinate speaks German, otherwise he accepts either the Czech or Hungarian word for Captain, or failing that, the subordinate's native word for Captain. |
9,884 | 273 | 12 | 1,313 | 1,441 | When he heard his name said, Karl offered a lazy salute. "Swiss eh? I can tell that accent from a mile away. We get all sorts around here, don't worry about it." He grinned and rubbed a metallic stain on his helmet. When he was handed the shackle, he hooked one end of it to his belt, noticing he had no keys. "Some poor bastard's gonna have to get this off, and I'm glad it's not me. We just get to do the fun part eh?" He chuckled. Hopping out of the back of the truck, he craned his neck around, loading a magazine in and locking the bolt shut firmly. "Ready to return fire should the crowd get rowdy. Which, honestly," he shrugged. "Seems kind of likely, no?"
He ducked as a half brick came flying at him, before swearing. "Does that not count as them firing..." he paused to smash the butt of his rifle into a burly man's head, sending him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Kneeling down, he clipped the shackles around his wrists, and stood up, a bottle shattering by his foot and peppering his calf with glass shards. Someone in the crowd shouted out "Freikop scum!" And he laughed, although he was getting nervous.
"Hauptman, I do think it might be wise if we start running to cover. Sometime about now, before the bullets start flying I would think?" | Name:Karl 'Jäger' Kötes
Age:
25
Physical Appearance:
Tall and blonde, Karl is, whilst not quite the spitting image of the German soldiers wanted in a mere ninteen years, damned close. He stands at a respectable 5'11" and is stocky, but not overly muscular or fat, with the kind of build that feels solid- as he was a wall made of brick, an asset useful in both intimidation and reassurance when he happens to need to do either.
He keeps his silvery-blonde cropped short in a practical military cut and his eyes are a steel-grey, with a slight twinkle in them even after the Great War. His war wounds, thankfully for him, are few, the stand-out exceptions being a shrapnel scar on the back of his left hand, a thick silvery line that stands out even with his fair skin, and the fact that a shell once went off around the bend of a trench that he was running from, partially deafaning him.
Unit Profession:
Rifleman
Personality:
War can do funny things to a man, the Great War even more so. Whilst men around him died and were injured, Karl somehow manages to stop himself becoming totally ruined, instead reserving his amassing fury for first the Belgian and French soldiers he fought against, ans subsequently his own government for their betrayal of his comrades.
Nowadays, despite his still not-insignificant rage for the nascent Weimar Republic and the Versailles Treaty, he always manages to have a few jokes tucked away in his pocket, right next to a spare stripper clip of ammunition and a no-nonsense attitude for anyone that is unfortunate enough to get in his way.
History:
Like most of the boys who ended up fighting and dying in the trenches, Karl was born to an 'average' family. His father was a butcher, his mother a strong believer in the so-called '4K's, those being Kinder, Kircher, Küche and Kleider, or children, church, clothes and the kitchen, singifying the jobs that women were supposed to do. Eventually, his father managed to earn enough money to buy another butchers shop, and made a decent living, until the call of war shouted for his son.
Karl took to the military well; being around butchered animals had accustomed him to blood and viscera, and although he never excelled within the trenches, a knack for keeping his head down and when to open fire lead to a steadily rising body count, numbering close to 50 by the end of the war. He was no sniper either, but he had been noted by his peers as a rather excellent shot, leading to his nickname of 'Jäger'.
After the war, furious at his government, he left, selling his services as a Freikorpsman for whoever would buy him. Two years on, he ended up with the Baron, gun in hand and ready to earn his keep once more on blood-stained ground.
Equipment:
Mauser Gewehr 98: A steady rifle and one that has stayed by the German's side. Excellent even at long range, and whilst no bolt action is particularly reliable, it can certainly take a beating.
Luger P08
Bayonet
Hand-to-hand weapon- barbed wire wrapped around a carved wooden club
(Rumoured) Looted Ruby Pistolette
Prominent Skills:
Rifling, languages (he speaks three fluently, those being German, Hungarian and French, as well as smatterings of Croatian and Slovak, leadership.
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot)
Karl has kept his Stahlhelm with him, and eschews all other headgear for it. In his words 'head, neck, and makes a good pot for boiling soup. What more could you want?' |
9,885 | 273 | 13 | 2,051 | 204 | Upon Herr Fichter's orders, Bruno promptly hoisted himself into the rear of the truck. He wouldn't be satisfied if he was late as he was very punctual. Taking a seat, he rolled his head to face Karl when he noted his Swiss accent and returned a kind grin. As the truck was moving to its destination point, Bruno was given a more detailed briefing and further explanation to the situation. He was to quell a laborers strike, and was informed many of the protesters were armed with various foreign weaponry shipped in from around Europe. Judging by the diversity of the squad Bruno was in, he concluded that it would likely be no obstacle assuming that these men had encountered these firearms before. As his commanding officer gave an introduction of everyone, he gave a slight wave and a smile to all of his unit in the back of the truck and awaited patiently to arrive at the laborers protest.
As the truck arrived, Bruno peered outside and observed. He spotted a barricade that was set up by other blackshirts with an orderly group of them guarding it with rifles. On the other side of the barricade were a cluster of rioters and peasants. He could feel the violent tension in the air, and suddenly he was seized with fear. However, this feeling was fairly short-lived considering the numbers of other blackshirts that were there. Bruno would harness this fear and shape himself up like a real soldier because he was well trained for this.
Hopping out of the back of the truck, Bruno would deploy himself with the rest of the squad as another one of the groups members caught up on horse. His commanding officer gave the group a number of orders, and Bruno was being put on the front lines. This surprised him slightly as he was referred to as the "new blood", but it didn't deter him from his current task. He was given two pairs of shackles that he would assumingly be locking up any ring leaders with. He moved up with Karl and Fichter as the gate opened, revealing the crowd that he noticed before. This time the threat was clearer as most of the men were wielding some sort of makeshift weapon or an object that they could hurl at one of the blackshirts. Though, he did find that some of them were carrying rifles, which made him feel uneasy. Bruno grabbed his K11 rifle off his back in a non-hostile, yet protective manner and kept his finger off the trigger. Firmly there he stood with his fellow blackshirts keeping his head up as confidently as he could while his commanding officer Fichter gave the rioters verbal authority over his megaphone. All of the sudden the group of protesters began throwing things at the blackshirts, a few narrowly missing Bruno. As conflict arose, he was given the command to move in further but not shoot at them just yet. Rather, physically subduing them would be the alternative.
Bruno was somewhat struck as his current moral beliefs were being challenged. He paused for a moment to think, but his thoughts were shattered as a chunk of masonry went flying over his head and broke into pieces beside him. A group of three men were visually resentful and one of them, the one who threw the object, began to close in on Bruno. Acting on pure instinct, Bruno shoved the butt of his rifle into his midsection. The man let out an "Ugh!" before kneeling onto the ground.
"Sir, stand down and I will not hurt you!" he yelled reassuringly in an authoritarian tone. The peasant on the continued to clench his stomach. Bruno felt kind of sorry for the man, but felt he wasn't left any other choice. As the current climate between the two parties began to boil, he expected the crowd to burst like a European powder keg any minute. | Nᴀᴍᴇ Bruno Leuthard
Aɢᴇ 23
Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ Bruno is an average lad, standing at about 5'7" and weighing in around 150 lb. He was lean like a boxer, and had some muscle to him that he built up over the years. Bruno resembled both his German father and his French mother. His skin was of a fair tone which complimented his facial features which were strong and chiseled, most notably around his jawline.
His hair, a dark umber, was kept buzzed around his ears and at the bottom. It was a short military length (but not yet crop top length) on the sides, but Bruno liked to keep it slightly longer on the top and slicked back neatly. In terms of facial hair, Bruno keeps a clean cut, or at most, very light stubble.
Uɴɪᴛ Pʀᴏꜰᴇssɪᴏɴ Rifleman
Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ Bruno's parents taught him his please and thank you's very well. Generally, Bruno is a polite and respectful individual both to his friends and his superiors. He believes a diplomatic approach to hostile situations should be attempted first before any rash decisions are made. However, this doesn't mean that he is weak. He is a very disciplined, strong-willed individual who will not hesitate to use violence if a social situation is escalated to that point. Bruno keeps to a fairly strict "3 strikes" rule and doesn't deviate from it very often. It is his understanding that a simple and direct solution to a problem is the best path to success, and that problems should always be dealt with head on. Overall, he is an unshaken optimist who's loyal to his friends and family.
Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ Bruno was born to a working class family on the outskirts of Zürich, Switzerland in 1897 while the powder keg in Europe was forming. His family could have been considered upper-working class for the wealth they obtained. Bruno's father was a military officer and his mother weaved blankets for both a living and as a hobby. His family could only afford to pay for his education until 1913 when Bruno was conscripted into the Swiss military at the age of 16. Due to the fact that Switzerland was a multicultural hub crushed between three superpowers (Germany, France, & Italy), he was required to learn German, French, and Italian.
Though was given thorough military training, due to Switzerland's neutrality during the first world war, he never actually saw any action on the battlefield. His older half-brother however, who he considered a full brother, was an infantry unit in the German military and would write him letters from in the trenches. Amid his experience, he obtained the rank of Oberwachtmeister before leaving the military after the war in 1918 at the age of 21. Keeping his K11 rifle, he became an immigration officer at the border between Switzerland and Germany so he could earn enough money to take care of his mother and father during their retirement, as well as his half-brother who was now a wounded war veteran that was staying with them. Bruno held that position for two years, but when savings were running low, it was clear that Bruno wasn't making enough to maintain his family, so he immigrated to the fairly new state of Borovia in search of opportunity. Upon contact with the Baron and enlisted in the blackshirts to forcefully suppress rumors of a revolution.
EǫᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛSchmidt–Rubin Model 1911 "K11" Rifle, w/ bayonet.
7.5×55mm Swiss rounds.
Frommer Stop Pistol.
Water canteen.
Club.
Pʀᴏᴍɪɴᴇɴᴛ SᴋɪʟʟsAnalytical skills: Bruno is very perceptive and has a keen eye for reading peoples faces. This was developed when he was an immigration officer at the border of Switzerland and Germany.
Military training: During his military training, Bruno became an excellent marksman -- best of his squad. He also learned how to use his bayonet effectively and was part of a ski platoon that patrolled the Swiss alps.
Multi-lingual: Fluent in German, French, and Italian.
Charismatic: Bruno has a way with words that are slick and persuasive. He got this talent from his dad, and tends to use it to his advantage. |
9,886 | 273 | 14 | 481 | 88 | As he drives the truck off on the route Servác listens to the Hauptmann, although he did miss certain portions do to having to focus on the road, and the hardness of hearing through even the especially light boards between the driver and the bed area. He stops the truck as they arrive at the destination, and find the barricade wall and the intimidating size of the crowd awaiting them through the gate.
Disembarking from the truck with everyone else and after Pyotr arriving, Servác would listen with great interest to the Hauptmann not only as a duty as a soldier but as he thought important to know what to do and what would happen given his inexperience. As the others wade forward into the mob, Servác checks his gun to get it ready if need be and looks to see what Erich and Pyotr are doing.
Servác is taking the relative brutality well considering his background. After all, as the Hauptmann had said, he wasn’t entirely sure because he was driving at the time, about them being more than peasants and that they had weapons from all over. Servác wasn’t interested in being shot and less interested in caring about the members of the hostile mob who came here to do him harm. | Name: Servác Zdráhal
Age: 18
Physical Appearance: Servác is someone identifiably Czech, dark brown eyes, seemingly black in some lights, and somewhat wavy hair of similar but darker coloration. His 5'5" average height, although at his age might not be his full height, build might best be described as lean considering his lack of overt musculature but not fat either. His natural black hair is cut to regimental standard as all facial hair is shaven off.
Unit Profession: Vehicle Driver; Cargo Truck; Tatra TL4 primary vehicle
Personality: He is not a particularly talkative person and is quite taciturn when he does speak at all however if one is able to draw him out one would find a kind of idealism not found in those more directly touched by the war. Although this idealistic attitude comes with some realism he primarily wishes to be a 'soldier' and given his current crowd that might not turn out to be such a good thing. Although he is quiet his wit is usually sharp, though often kept to himself, he rarely makes overt showings of his emotions but his body language is normally the best way to tell.
History: Servác comes from a moderately wealthy family in what used to be the Austro-Hungarian province of Bohemia. His father was one of the few Czechs able to serve with the government and encouraged his son to learn German, not that Servác did that with particular gusto. Two things always mattered to Servác as he grew up both before and during the war, an older cousin Silvestr and vehicles, the ones he would see in the street occasionally were of great importance.
When the war started, twelve at the time, Servác watched his cousin go off to war for the Empire. This not only built up his idealism around soldier-hood but also forced him into his other interest vehicles. Now without a nearby cousin to bug, young Servác was found in most of his free time with various mechanics, some of which showed him parts of their crafts, and as he got older he worked a little for some of them.
While Servác was gaining skills and continuing his education, time and the war continued. 1918 and the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, however his cousin did not come home instead one of his friends from the army came to explain. He was not dead he had defected a few years before to the Russian side and the Czechoslovak legion, and was likely still in Russia. Servác exuberance knew no limit in his ideals about soldiering rose even higher despite the after-war consequences becoming apparent.
This state continued for a while before after a particularly bad argument with his parents, his father mostly, about his future he fled taking his skills and a few things he managed to pick up along the way eventually coming to Borovia. After joining the Blackshirts, particularly because of his not especially common knowledge of vehicles and the repair and driving of them, he has stayed to 'be a soldier' whatever that will mean in Borovia.
Equipment:
Mostly standard issue: Mannlicher M1890 Cavalry Carbine, Frommer Stop Pistol
Acquired as part of his idealization of soldering: Trenching Spade
Issued and used as a truck driver: Tatra TL4 Truck, with mounting for a machine gun emplaced if not used always
Prominent Skills: Truck Driver, Languages (Fluent in Czech, German with a mild accent, Understandable Slovak), Vehicle repair and other mechanics (Often needed if one deals with vehicles of this day a lot)
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot) |
9,887 | 273 | 15 | 1 | 1,945 | Erich heard carefully as Josef spoke about their mission. The very idea that the mob wouldn't offer resistance was impossible to him. Weapons give a common man power to decide who lives and who dies and anger is a strong emotion. Power and anger together can make a man blind to most things. Drunk with power and anger, it was obvious that they would fight back, yet, Erich stood behind at the truck with Sérvac.
"Very well, I'll stay here. But be warned, I don't think that the mob has any intention of submitting themselves peacefully. You should be ready to return fire. If something like that happens, just call us and we'll be there to help in no time." he said to everyone, including Bruno, the new blood. He looks like a very reliable guy. Disciplined and ready to action.
He watched them disembarking the truck and walking away. He didn't liked of being left behind, but orders were orders. At least he could relax a little until they called for him and Sérvac, which if this went as he imagined, would be very soon.
"It's terribly boring... Being left behind, huh?" He asked Sérvac.
"But if things go as I immagine, it will be only a few seconds until they call us to help them." He said, inspecting his rifle.
"Say... Sérvac, have you already killed a man?" He asked, with a neutral expression on his face.
"You are a young lad. You could live a more peaceful life. Away from all this blood and death."
"I know what you're thinking... I'm not much older than you are, true. But for me, there is no turning back." He said with a grin.
"After living amongst so much blood and death, you start liking it, you know?" He said, leaning against the back of the truck.
"Oh, but don't worry, i may look cold and heartless, but I like a good round of drinks as much as the next guy." He said laughing. | Name: Erich Weiss
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Red, long hair, that he keeps tied in a single braid, deep cold blue eyes and an ivory white skin. Standing at 1,90m, Erich has a tall, athletic body. His fencing hobby gave him a great stamina, flexibility and agility. His appearance, more specifically his deep red hair and his delicate face, often draw a lot of attention, both from women and men (the latter often provoking and messing with him), but his penetrating blue eyes and his cold expression mostly always turn people away from him.
Unit Profession: Medic
Personality: Some say that his personality matches his distant, cold blue eyes, others say that a devil hides under that blood red hair. The fact is that Erich is a very unique person. He has a cold and calculating mentality but at the same time, he can be surprisingly friendly and warm to valorous companions and friends, even joking around and being a very lively guy. One thing that everyone agrees though, is his penchant for blood and his somewhat sadistic behavior. Nobody knows if he actually likes or if he doesn't really care about being cruel, one thing everyone knows is that Erich can be very cold and cruel if you stand in his way.
Due to being raised in a traditional family, coming from a wealthy and noble lineage, Erich knows how to be polite and formal when needed and is very intelligent. But the time he passed serving as a medic and mercenary, after him abandoning the family made him learn to be cunning and calculating.
History: Erich was born into an old and traditional lineage coming all the way from the nobles from old noble houses from Germany. Obviously, his upbringing was fit of someone born in a wealthy family, private tutors, books, fencing, he had the best things the money and status could buy. Erich was always the sole heir of the family, and as such, he was expected to be a perfect gentleman: intelligent, courteous, polite yet firm on his decisions, and above everything else, be a beacon, a role model for his compatriots to follow. At merely 18 years he was already a surgeon, and a damn good one, thanks to the instruction received from the best tutors and medics around.
When the war began, his family supported the country with all their forces, as it was expected. That included sending the young and still innocent Erich to the war to serve as a medic.
There is a saying that the war can change a person. This saying couldn't be more accurate for the young Erich. Living his entire life being treated differently, practically on his own world, separated from the brutality and violence from the normal world, reality hit him hard. He had to kill many men while serving. Both enemies and allies, those too wounded to be able to survive even with intensive medical care. As a way to protect his own mind from all that, he became the cold, cruel person he is today. Doing what it needed to be done to both ensure his survival and complete his duty as a soldier, he killed, saved, ignored orders, lied and even tortured. Everything with the same cold eyes. Obviously, as the time passed, he stopped caring about being cruel, sometimes even doing things that others could perceive as unnecessarily cruel.
After the end of the war, a completely different Erich returned home only to see what the war did with his once proud family. With the German Mark worth even less each day that passed, the family that once was proud to support their compatriots was found participating in political schemes, bribes and doing whatever they could to maintain their wealth, not caring about their country at all. Erich slowly watched his family's downfall, as they lost everything they had: their money, their lands, their status and even their honor.
Cutting all ties he had with his family, he adopted the surname "Fuchs", due to his red hair. He didn't wanted to carry his family's sins with him, as he had nothing to do with their actions. His name was his alone. Without having anything left in Germany, he became a mercenary. As a superb surgeon, his outstanding long range marksmanship and especially the way he used a rapier to fight, cutting his foe in order to incapacitate and inflict the maximum of pain before killing it, made his fame rise between the mercenaries.
His wanderings led him to a country called Borovia, which he was almost instantly hired as a mercenary for one of the barons on Asnio, the capital of Borovia. Not interested on the political side, he readily accepted the job. It was a good proposal, after all, it would give him food, equipment and somewhere to sleep. Surgeons of his caliber were rare to find, especially working as a mercenary. Thanks to his skills both as a marksman and as a medic, he quickly was invited to be on the Blackshirt army, a paramilitary group that answered to the Baron alone. Again, he had no reason to refuse, and so he accepted the proposal.
His friendly and warm attitude towards the other Blackshirt members would quickly earn him their trust and friendship. He didn't cared about who you were or where you were born. The only thing that mattered was that they would work together. Life was good for him, he had friends, a place to live, was respected as a Blackshirt... But he knew that things could change in the blink of an eye, so he was always prepared for the worse. Noble and wealthy families can fall in a matter of months, the same is true for any government or organization.
Equipment:
Mannlichter M1895 - Customized: Equipped with an 3x telescopic sight and a leather buttstock, allowing a better, more comfortable grip on the weapon.
Frommer Stop - The standard sidearm for the Blackshirts.
Medical Kit: Containing things such as sterile gauze, suture needles and thread, scalpels, isopropyl alcohol & etc.
Prominent Skills:
Surgeon - Erich is an experienced physician and surgeon. Having performed successful surgeries even in the middle of a battle.
Chirurgic Precision - Precision, calmness, logical thinking. The skills who are needed to any combat medic also make him extremely precise with his rifle, especially when using a telescopic sight.
Fencing - One of the results of being raised in a traditional and once noble family.
Languages - German, English and Russian (both with a heavy accent)
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot) |
9,888 | 273 | 16 | 269 | 2,330 | Sorry my post's a little late. I hope this offering will suffice.
Pyotr returned Josef's wave after they set off. Then, he kicked Varvara off toward the meeting place, and for a time, it was just him, and the sound of cantering hooves on cobbled street. The new guy, he thought as he rode almost automatically, seemed interesting enough, and he certainly appeared eager to participate in what they did. However, "the proof of the pudding," as the British said, "is in the eating," though in this case, Mister Bruno eating bullets would be less advisable than him doing his job correctly.
In time, Pyotr caught up with the car at the meeting spot, and promptly listened closely to the commanding officer's orders. It seemed Pyotr would provide covering fire from a distance should it be needed, as well as sending messages between the front line elites and those remaining in the car, up to and including telling Servác to bring the car around if injuries were sustained or live prisoners needed escorting.
In due course, Servác and Erich were sent off with the truck, whilst Josef, Karl, and Bruno took themselves to within the containment zone, Josef calling out for the civilians to stand down, or else be beaten down, give or take a few words here and there. Pyotr, still on Varvara's back, stayed just within the bounds of the barricades, ready to ride back if need be- and from the looks of things, and the hail of masonry and other such objects coming toward them, he probably would be forced to do so in very short order. Still, nobody had tried to make their way over to him yet, so he stayed put, patrolling left and right a few steps at a time to keep Varvara relaxed before the inevitable came to pass. | Name: Pyotr Sidorov
Age: 20
Physical Appearance: Pyotr is possessed of a strong Don Cossack heritage: pale-skinned and dark-haired, with sparkling blue eyes and a face that many women could love, topped off by a lean build and a height of 173 cm. Though he'd dress quite colorfully within typical Cossack armies and the Red Guard, the uniform of the Blackshirts does not particularly allow for this, though he does keep his hair grown out somewhat longer than regimental standard.
Unit Profession: Cavalry
Personality: For a man who's knowingly participating in the brutal oppression of a country's population, Pyotr is surprisingly upbeat. Whether it's the exuberance of being a young adult, a lack of comprehension of the effect his actions have upon others, or a degree of sociopathy blunting him to the atrocities being committed in the Robber Baron's name, he tends to show a face to the world that is little other than smiling and optimistic. Rare are the moments when he is morose, and even while sighting some blyat's head with his gun, he tends to retain a cheery smile sure to lighten the mood of his companions.
History: Born on the eve of the new century, Pyotr was rather too young to be considered for service in the Great War, but was nonetheless trained well in the skills the Don Cossack Host held in their culture from youth, namely the arts of horseriding and of war at both short and long range, though never in as serious a situation as his future might suggest. Life was good for him, a state certainly helped by the relatively affluent nature of his familial lineage, so it was a great shame when the Russian Revolution of 1917 took place, in two separate strokes in February and October dethroning the Tsarist regime and replacing it with the Bolshevik party, which consequently decided to persecute a great deal of those Cossacks who previously benefited from the Tsars' favour.
Naturally, this did not sit well with Pyotr, and as soon as his parents gave their blessing, he took his horse Varvara and joined the Volunteer Army, a part of what would be called the White Army serving to try and dethrone the Bolsheviks in the ensuing civil war. For the next several months, he was deployed in but a few engagements with Red forces, mostly relegated to patrolling areas firmly in control of the white movement, and as a result becoming increasingly unhappy. Ironically, it was in his last battle under the White Army's banner that he came to a distressing revelation: ultimately, this was a battle of Russian versus Russian. That wasn't how things should be, he felt, not in a country as great as it had once been.
Thus, with little more than a written note at his last known position making this felt, he defected from the White Army, fleeing back to his home and strongly encouraging his miraculously-still-alive family to flee the country with him, before it was too late. Some members did; others did not. Leaving those who remained to whatever fate might befall them, Pyotr and his group made their way Westward, riding for two months through Russia's lands, and eventually reaching disputed territory between the Red Army and Polish forces at the time. Gradually, relatives peeled off from the group, either to help fight off those damn Bolshevists, or because they were sick of travelling, until by the time he reached the Polish-Czechoslovakian border, Pyotr was on his own, only Varvara and the reminders of his defection left to accompany him.
And yet he travelled further still, feeling restless, and uncontent with simply going back and settling somewhere with another relative. Eventually, he found he had travelled almost the entire length of Czechoslovakia, and so wound up in a small country bordering it, as well as Germany and Austria. A relatively tiny state called Borovia, which it seemed was having some troubles with its working class population. And whilst it was no grand war, Pyotr decided that perhaps this was where he belonged - in his mind, a worker's revolution meant another Red Terror, and what sort of man would he be if he didn't help put down such a threat, even at this small a scale, before it ever began?
So he travelled to the capital of Asnio, got himself hired as a mercenary, and was placed into the ranks of the local capitalist Baron's conscripts; some time later, he was deemed sufficiently skilled as to be relocated to the Blackshirt army proper, and now wears the uniform with no little amount of pride, for the short period of time he's had access to it.
Equipment: Pyotr's weaponry is composed of items stolen as he defected from the White Army, considered against usual Blackshirt fare, and decided to keep around anyway - perhaps unwisely, considering the additional expense the Baron must put into purchasing the ammunition for his weapons probably doesn't put him in good standings with the man.
Dragoon Rifle and detachable bayonet - A weapon from the Mosin-Nagant rifle line with good muzzle velocity and an effective range of up to half a kilometer, this gun is designed for use by mounted infantry such as Pyotr. Not a carbine along the lines of the M1907, but still shorter and lighter than the original M1891, it can and does have both an iron sight scope and a bayonet attached, but requires a stripper clip of five 7.62×54mmR rounds to fully reload, making it somewhat less convenient to use than the en-bloc-bearing Mannlicher in common use by the Blackshirts.
Nagant M1895, "Private's model" - Another Nagant weapon, this a 7-round revolver with a gas seal mechanism that, in combination with 7.62×38mmR rounds designed for use with this weapon, greatly increases the muzzle velocity of its bullet, rivalling and even surpassing that of his Dragoon Rifle. However, its range is sorely limited, the trigger pull is remarkably heavy, its single-action hammer requires recocking after every shot, and the gun is very time-consuming to reload, requiring each cartridge to be ejected and replaced manually. Because of this and his designated role as mounted marksman, Pyotr would rather stick to the Dragoon Rifle and its bayonet even within the pistol's effective range.
Varvara - Pyotr's horse, a black Russian Don about 15.2 hands tall and three years of age. The breed is well known for its stamina and endurance, though currently in short supply, and in fact were bred specifically as mounts for Cossack cavalry so they could travel long distances in short spans of time, with energy to spare. This endurance is not quite as necessary in the urban environments Pyotr is currently posted in, and she is often mildly restless as a result; she is also unarmoured, but as Pyotr prefers to fight from larger distances, this is not an issue quite as frequently as one might imagine.
Prominent Skills:
Horse riding - Pyotr is a skilled rider, able to direct most horses readily enough. Indeed, he has been trained to be able to control them even without the use of reins, freeing up his hands to fire his weapons from atop his mount. Speaking of which...
Marksmanship - Pyotr's sharpshooting skills are damn good. Not only is he great at targeting opponents with a rifle in his own right, he is more than able to do so from atop a horse, accounting for all the creature's movements in the process, a feat matched by few others who are not mounted riflemen themselves.
Melee combat - Less notable in this age of long-distance weaponplay, but when pressed, Pyotr is more than capable of using his bayonet to lethal effect, either mounted on his rifle like the head of a spear or held in hand like a sword or dagger.
Outland survival - Whilst not particularly relevant in an urban environment, Pyotr is more than capable of making do for himself and others in an environment that would otherwise be considered wilderness, namely large stretches of the Russian tundra.
Other: N/A |
9,889 | 273 | 17 | 622 | 669 | As the bricks, bottles and other assorted rubble continued to fly at the advancing group, Josef nodded to Karl as he requested that they start to take cover. "Alright, find some cover, keep your heads down, and if they open fire with actual weapons, return fire at will."
With that, he ducked down behind a collapsed section of wall, just as a handful of shots rang out, bullets whizzing by over his head. Carefully peeking over the chuck of brick and stone with his rifle, giving a cry of "Open fire!" as he began to fire his rifle, firing off three shots, hitting a man armed with a rifle of some sort, another carrying a makeshift firebomb, which was snuffed out as it fell to the ground, and another man carrying a pistol. As he used his rifle, Josef's face took on one of grim concentration, carefully looking up from the rubble to shoot, before ducking back down to slide the bolt of his rifle back, ejecting the shell before pushing the bolt back forward, chambering in the next round, and repeating the process.
Having fired off the three shots, he quickly affixed the bayonet to his rifle, gesturing for Karl and Bruno to do the same, moving ahead under cover, jabbing a man armed with a club as he came close, and butting another with the end of his rifle, confiscating the man's rifle, and tossing to back behind him to prevent it being retrieved by more rebels.
"Karl, Bruno, keep moving forward, and keep up the fire on them! If we get close enough, they should start to break apart!" | Name: Josef Fichter
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Josef is a rather lean individual, but still has some muscle and strength to him. His hair is a cross between blond and brown, often appearing different depending on the lighting, and he dons an officer's moustache on his upper lip. His black military uniform is crisp and neatly pressed, with his parade and dress uniform adorned with shining medals from both the now-gone Austro-Hungarian Military, and the Borovian Blackshirts.
Unit Profession: Officer
Personality: Josef is an officer to his men first and foremost, and to the Baron second. He works to ensure that the orders he gives have his men's best interests in mind, and if his orders would lead to death or harm for his troops, he does not hesitate to contradict them. He works to maintain a good relationship with his men, wanting them to trust and have faith in him, as well as putting his own trust and faith in them. He sees working with the Blackshirts as a method of bringing stability to a troubled land, and he hopes that if Borovia can be made stable and intact, it can be either reunited with Austria, or perhaps inducted into Germany.
History: Originally a citizen of Austria-Hungary, Josef was among those in-between the working class and the nobility, wealthy but not of high birth. As such, in an attempt to push forward their social careers, Josef's parents enrolled him in an Officer's Academy once he came of age. By the time he had graduated and received his commission, the Great War was in full swing, and Josef found himself at the front lines of the Italian campaign. By the time the war came to an end in 1918, Josef had achieved the rank of Hauptmann, as Well as a Silver Medal of Bravery First Class, a Bronze Medal of Bravery, and a Karl-Cross. Eventually, the collapse of Austria-Hungary would occur, and Josef would find that his home no longer lied in his beloved Austria, but instead in a newly-formed, independent state known as Borovia. Despondent at the loss of his country and state, Josef took to the one thing he knew best: commanding forces. He used his status as both an officer and the heir to a wealthy family, and gained a commission in the Baron's Blackshirts, being given command over a special force drafting mercenaries, loyal citizens, and defectors from other nations.
Equipment:
Mannlicher M1895 Rifle, with Bayonet
Frommer Stop handgun
Infantry Saber
Officer's Spotting Binoculars
Prominent Skills: Josef is a skilled field officer, capable of properly and skillfully organizing troops and planning battles. He's also a skilled parade formation organizer and commander, and a trained user of the rifle, pistol, bayonet, and saber. He speaks German fluently, and can give orders and receive reports in Hungarian and Czech.
Other: Prefers to be addressed as 'Herr Hauptmann' if the subordinate speaks German, otherwise he accepts either the Czech or Hungarian word for Captain, or failing that, the subordinate's native word for Captain. |
9,890 | 273 | 18 | 1,313 | 1,441 | The bullets was when it all went to hell. Karl was behind a brick wall when he heard the first shots going up, and he immediatly changed, drawing the luger and his trench club. No fucking around with his bayonet, oh no. He popped up and fired off two shots, a man holding some kind of can and another with a submachine gun going down. He ducked behind cover just as an explosion went up, and he looked up, confused, before realising the can was a makeshift grenade. "They've got explosives!" He yelled, before firing off another few shots and letting the empty luger mag clank to the floor, clumsily loading another one.
When Josef advanced, he athletically vaulted over his cover. "Just like the trenches eh? Crackin' skulls..." He punctuated his words by smashing a man charging towards him, holding what looked like a makeshift pike, before firing more shots into the crowd. "DISPERSE NOW!"
"FUCK YOU FREIKOPS SCUM!"
Karl looked to see where the voice came from and popped off two shots, quickly followed by a cry of agony. Grinning in satisfaction, Karl didn't notice the club coming towards his belly until it was too late and was hit, a solid blow that knocked the air out of him and caused him to fumble his trench club. Unfortunately for his attacker, he still had a grasp on hisgun, and he blew the lucky bastard away, although he doubled over in pain. As he coughed, the crowd surged around him and he feared he would be overwhelmed, even as he fired into the group.
"NEED BACKUP?!" | Name:Karl 'Jäger' Kötes
Age:
25
Physical Appearance:
Tall and blonde, Karl is, whilst not quite the spitting image of the German soldiers wanted in a mere ninteen years, damned close. He stands at a respectable 5'11" and is stocky, but not overly muscular or fat, with the kind of build that feels solid- as he was a wall made of brick, an asset useful in both intimidation and reassurance when he happens to need to do either.
He keeps his silvery-blonde cropped short in a practical military cut and his eyes are a steel-grey, with a slight twinkle in them even after the Great War. His war wounds, thankfully for him, are few, the stand-out exceptions being a shrapnel scar on the back of his left hand, a thick silvery line that stands out even with his fair skin, and the fact that a shell once went off around the bend of a trench that he was running from, partially deafaning him.
Unit Profession:
Rifleman
Personality:
War can do funny things to a man, the Great War even more so. Whilst men around him died and were injured, Karl somehow manages to stop himself becoming totally ruined, instead reserving his amassing fury for first the Belgian and French soldiers he fought against, ans subsequently his own government for their betrayal of his comrades.
Nowadays, despite his still not-insignificant rage for the nascent Weimar Republic and the Versailles Treaty, he always manages to have a few jokes tucked away in his pocket, right next to a spare stripper clip of ammunition and a no-nonsense attitude for anyone that is unfortunate enough to get in his way.
History:
Like most of the boys who ended up fighting and dying in the trenches, Karl was born to an 'average' family. His father was a butcher, his mother a strong believer in the so-called '4K's, those being Kinder, Kircher, Küche and Kleider, or children, church, clothes and the kitchen, singifying the jobs that women were supposed to do. Eventually, his father managed to earn enough money to buy another butchers shop, and made a decent living, until the call of war shouted for his son.
Karl took to the military well; being around butchered animals had accustomed him to blood and viscera, and although he never excelled within the trenches, a knack for keeping his head down and when to open fire lead to a steadily rising body count, numbering close to 50 by the end of the war. He was no sniper either, but he had been noted by his peers as a rather excellent shot, leading to his nickname of 'Jäger'.
After the war, furious at his government, he left, selling his services as a Freikorpsman for whoever would buy him. Two years on, he ended up with the Baron, gun in hand and ready to earn his keep once more on blood-stained ground.
Equipment:
Mauser Gewehr 98: A steady rifle and one that has stayed by the German's side. Excellent even at long range, and whilst no bolt action is particularly reliable, it can certainly take a beating.
Luger P08
Bayonet
Hand-to-hand weapon- barbed wire wrapped around a carved wooden club
(Rumoured) Looted Ruby Pistolette
Prominent Skills:
Rifling, languages (he speaks three fluently, those being German, Hungarian and French, as well as smatterings of Croatian and Slovak, leadership.
Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot)
Karl has kept his Stahlhelm with him, and eschews all other headgear for it. In his words 'head, neck, and makes a good pot for boiling soup. What more could you want?' |
9,891 | 273 | 19 | 2,051 | 204 | First one shot rang out. And then another. Soon after, multiple rounds were discharged and bullets were whizzing past the Blackshirts units. Bruno managed to scramble onto the ground as he quickly dove into cover behind the wall of what looked to be a general store. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took his rifle off safety and watched as the Blackshirts returned fire on the revolutionaries. Bruno felt uneasy again as he had never confronted any sort of crisis this threatening. He was pulled back and forth between an inner moral struggle. Perhaps he didn't truly feel the plight that the peasants were feeling, and that's the reason they were angry. Regardless, Bruno had a job to do, and he wasn't just about to let violence uncontrollably ravage the streets of Borovia.
As he proceeded to glance around surroundings, he noticed his commanding officer Fichter motion for him and Karl to fix their bayonets. Bruno did so promptly, moving the long blade from his side and fixing it to the end of his K11 rifle. His motions were swift like a switchblade, and his military training was doing the work for him. Shouldering his rifle, he peeked around the corner and leveled his muzzle in the general direction at a group of three men.
"Halt! Back up!" he yelled, giving the trio he now had full sight of a second chance. He motioned for them to step back and lower their arms. Just before they started to do so, a few more rounds were fired at Bruno, causing him to duck back into cover as to avoid being hit. Shots continued to ring out all around the streets which were now converted into a battlefield. A thin haze of smoke from all the rifles was in the air and there was now a number of injured, or even dead bodies laying across the ground. Out of the blue, a loud explosion occurred that shook the ground and nearly caused Bruno to fall. It was a makeshift grenade created by one of the peasant revolutionaries. He felt as if he was in an awful grinding dream as his ears started ringing and more shots were fired back and forth between the protesters and the Blackshirts. It was at this point that he realized they were not going to listen to him unless the violence was controlled, which would have to be obtained with violent retaliation. Peeking around the corner again, Bruno noticed that Karl was currently being overrun by a large group of the protesters. Without thinking he brought his sights to the chest of one of the peasants and fired. The man dropped instantly and Bruno fired again at another fellow next to him, ripping his right shoulder apart and sending him onto the ground with his colleague. The K11 used a straight-pull bolt action which made the chambering of each new round quicker than a regular bolt-action rifle. The rest of the group divided themselves and Bruno started to move forward toward Karl as the mob slowly began to split.
"Are you all right?" he asked Karl, making sure to keep low under the debris and bullets that flew overhead every so often. | Nᴀᴍᴇ Bruno Leuthard
Aɢᴇ 23
Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ Bruno is an average lad, standing at about 5'7" and weighing in around 150 lb. He was lean like a boxer, and had some muscle to him that he built up over the years. Bruno resembled both his German father and his French mother. His skin was of a fair tone which complimented his facial features which were strong and chiseled, most notably around his jawline.
His hair, a dark umber, was kept buzzed around his ears and at the bottom. It was a short military length (but not yet crop top length) on the sides, but Bruno liked to keep it slightly longer on the top and slicked back neatly. In terms of facial hair, Bruno keeps a clean cut, or at most, very light stubble.
Uɴɪᴛ Pʀᴏꜰᴇssɪᴏɴ Rifleman
Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ Bruno's parents taught him his please and thank you's very well. Generally, Bruno is a polite and respectful individual both to his friends and his superiors. He believes a diplomatic approach to hostile situations should be attempted first before any rash decisions are made. However, this doesn't mean that he is weak. He is a very disciplined, strong-willed individual who will not hesitate to use violence if a social situation is escalated to that point. Bruno keeps to a fairly strict "3 strikes" rule and doesn't deviate from it very often. It is his understanding that a simple and direct solution to a problem is the best path to success, and that problems should always be dealt with head on. Overall, he is an unshaken optimist who's loyal to his friends and family.
Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ Bruno was born to a working class family on the outskirts of Zürich, Switzerland in 1897 while the powder keg in Europe was forming. His family could have been considered upper-working class for the wealth they obtained. Bruno's father was a military officer and his mother weaved blankets for both a living and as a hobby. His family could only afford to pay for his education until 1913 when Bruno was conscripted into the Swiss military at the age of 16. Due to the fact that Switzerland was a multicultural hub crushed between three superpowers (Germany, France, & Italy), he was required to learn German, French, and Italian.
Though was given thorough military training, due to Switzerland's neutrality during the first world war, he never actually saw any action on the battlefield. His older half-brother however, who he considered a full brother, was an infantry unit in the German military and would write him letters from in the trenches. Amid his experience, he obtained the rank of Oberwachtmeister before leaving the military after the war in 1918 at the age of 21. Keeping his K11 rifle, he became an immigration officer at the border between Switzerland and Germany so he could earn enough money to take care of his mother and father during their retirement, as well as his half-brother who was now a wounded war veteran that was staying with them. Bruno held that position for two years, but when savings were running low, it was clear that Bruno wasn't making enough to maintain his family, so he immigrated to the fairly new state of Borovia in search of opportunity. Upon contact with the Baron and enlisted in the blackshirts to forcefully suppress rumors of a revolution.
EǫᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛSchmidt–Rubin Model 1911 "K11" Rifle, w/ bayonet.
7.5×55mm Swiss rounds.
Frommer Stop Pistol.
Water canteen.
Club.
Pʀᴏᴍɪɴᴇɴᴛ SᴋɪʟʟsAnalytical skills: Bruno is very perceptive and has a keen eye for reading peoples faces. This was developed when he was an immigration officer at the border of Switzerland and Germany.
Military training: During his military training, Bruno became an excellent marksman -- best of his squad. He also learned how to use his bayonet effectively and was part of a ski platoon that patrolled the Swiss alps.
Multi-lingual: Fluent in German, French, and Italian.
Charismatic: Bruno has a way with words that are slick and persuasive. He got this talent from his dad, and tends to use it to his advantage. |
9,892 | 273 | 20 | 269 | 2,330 | Pyotr didn't need to be told twice to do his job. From his vantage point atop Varvara, he began to do his bit: looking for targets armed with proper weaponry, lining them up in his iron sights, and taking them out with a bullet to the chest. Relatively efficient, and despite what some might think, a far more viable target than shooting them in the head just because they were more likely to take the hit at all.
Five rounds fired later, and Varvara was starting to be targeted with masonry, so Pyotr spurred her a little ways down the barrier, just quickly enough to become a difficult target for the time she was moving, giving him the moments needed to reload his weapon. He couldn't allow her to be injured, not in this situation, and nor could he allowed his teammates to take damage, thus his intent to fire at the most dangerous rioters, the ones actually armed with weapons. Woe that he couldn't target the weapons themselves, but no gun was that accurate, nor any hand so steady. | Name: Pyotr Sidorov
Age: 20
Physical Appearance: Pyotr is possessed of a strong Don Cossack heritage: pale-skinned and dark-haired, with sparkling blue eyes and a face that many women could love, topped off by a lean build and a height of 173 cm. Though he'd dress quite colorfully within typical Cossack armies and the Red Guard, the uniform of the Blackshirts does not particularly allow for this, though he does keep his hair grown out somewhat longer than regimental standard.
Unit Profession: Cavalry
Personality: For a man who's knowingly participating in the brutal oppression of a country's population, Pyotr is surprisingly upbeat. Whether it's the exuberance of being a young adult, a lack of comprehension of the effect his actions have upon others, or a degree of sociopathy blunting him to the atrocities being committed in the Robber Baron's name, he tends to show a face to the world that is little other than smiling and optimistic. Rare are the moments when he is morose, and even while sighting some blyat's head with his gun, he tends to retain a cheery smile sure to lighten the mood of his companions.
History: Born on the eve of the new century, Pyotr was rather too young to be considered for service in the Great War, but was nonetheless trained well in the skills the Don Cossack Host held in their culture from youth, namely the arts of horseriding and of war at both short and long range, though never in as serious a situation as his future might suggest. Life was good for him, a state certainly helped by the relatively affluent nature of his familial lineage, so it was a great shame when the Russian Revolution of 1917 took place, in two separate strokes in February and October dethroning the Tsarist regime and replacing it with the Bolshevik party, which consequently decided to persecute a great deal of those Cossacks who previously benefited from the Tsars' favour.
Naturally, this did not sit well with Pyotr, and as soon as his parents gave their blessing, he took his horse Varvara and joined the Volunteer Army, a part of what would be called the White Army serving to try and dethrone the Bolsheviks in the ensuing civil war. For the next several months, he was deployed in but a few engagements with Red forces, mostly relegated to patrolling areas firmly in control of the white movement, and as a result becoming increasingly unhappy. Ironically, it was in his last battle under the White Army's banner that he came to a distressing revelation: ultimately, this was a battle of Russian versus Russian. That wasn't how things should be, he felt, not in a country as great as it had once been.
Thus, with little more than a written note at his last known position making this felt, he defected from the White Army, fleeing back to his home and strongly encouraging his miraculously-still-alive family to flee the country with him, before it was too late. Some members did; others did not. Leaving those who remained to whatever fate might befall them, Pyotr and his group made their way Westward, riding for two months through Russia's lands, and eventually reaching disputed territory between the Red Army and Polish forces at the time. Gradually, relatives peeled off from the group, either to help fight off those damn Bolshevists, or because they were sick of travelling, until by the time he reached the Polish-Czechoslovakian border, Pyotr was on his own, only Varvara and the reminders of his defection left to accompany him.
And yet he travelled further still, feeling restless, and uncontent with simply going back and settling somewhere with another relative. Eventually, he found he had travelled almost the entire length of Czechoslovakia, and so wound up in a small country bordering it, as well as Germany and Austria. A relatively tiny state called Borovia, which it seemed was having some troubles with its working class population. And whilst it was no grand war, Pyotr decided that perhaps this was where he belonged - in his mind, a worker's revolution meant another Red Terror, and what sort of man would he be if he didn't help put down such a threat, even at this small a scale, before it ever began?
So he travelled to the capital of Asnio, got himself hired as a mercenary, and was placed into the ranks of the local capitalist Baron's conscripts; some time later, he was deemed sufficiently skilled as to be relocated to the Blackshirt army proper, and now wears the uniform with no little amount of pride, for the short period of time he's had access to it.
Equipment: Pyotr's weaponry is composed of items stolen as he defected from the White Army, considered against usual Blackshirt fare, and decided to keep around anyway - perhaps unwisely, considering the additional expense the Baron must put into purchasing the ammunition for his weapons probably doesn't put him in good standings with the man.
Dragoon Rifle and detachable bayonet - A weapon from the Mosin-Nagant rifle line with good muzzle velocity and an effective range of up to half a kilometer, this gun is designed for use by mounted infantry such as Pyotr. Not a carbine along the lines of the M1907, but still shorter and lighter than the original M1891, it can and does have both an iron sight scope and a bayonet attached, but requires a stripper clip of five 7.62×54mmR rounds to fully reload, making it somewhat less convenient to use than the en-bloc-bearing Mannlicher in common use by the Blackshirts.
Nagant M1895, "Private's model" - Another Nagant weapon, this a 7-round revolver with a gas seal mechanism that, in combination with 7.62×38mmR rounds designed for use with this weapon, greatly increases the muzzle velocity of its bullet, rivalling and even surpassing that of his Dragoon Rifle. However, its range is sorely limited, the trigger pull is remarkably heavy, its single-action hammer requires recocking after every shot, and the gun is very time-consuming to reload, requiring each cartridge to be ejected and replaced manually. Because of this and his designated role as mounted marksman, Pyotr would rather stick to the Dragoon Rifle and its bayonet even within the pistol's effective range.
Varvara - Pyotr's horse, a black Russian Don about 15.2 hands tall and three years of age. The breed is well known for its stamina and endurance, though currently in short supply, and in fact were bred specifically as mounts for Cossack cavalry so they could travel long distances in short spans of time, with energy to spare. This endurance is not quite as necessary in the urban environments Pyotr is currently posted in, and she is often mildly restless as a result; she is also unarmoured, but as Pyotr prefers to fight from larger distances, this is not an issue quite as frequently as one might imagine.
Prominent Skills:
Horse riding - Pyotr is a skilled rider, able to direct most horses readily enough. Indeed, he has been trained to be able to control them even without the use of reins, freeing up his hands to fire his weapons from atop his mount. Speaking of which...
Marksmanship - Pyotr's sharpshooting skills are damn good. Not only is he great at targeting opponents with a rifle in his own right, he is more than able to do so from atop a horse, accounting for all the creature's movements in the process, a feat matched by few others who are not mounted riflemen themselves.
Melee combat - Less notable in this age of long-distance weaponplay, but when pressed, Pyotr is more than capable of using his bayonet to lethal effect, either mounted on his rifle like the head of a spear or held in hand like a sword or dagger.
Outland survival - Whilst not particularly relevant in an urban environment, Pyotr is more than capable of making do for himself and others in an environment that would otherwise be considered wilderness, namely large stretches of the Russian tundra.
Other: N/A |
9,893 | 274 | 0 | 2,720 | 1,306 | The air was cold, cold enough to where he could see his breath as he walked from the entrance of the school down the middle walk way. It was a large school, a few stories high with an extensive amount of space behind it for training the students. Daizo Koga lived outside the school with one of instructors who taught at Kanna Academy, one of Japan's large and expensive military schools. In fact, all they had was military schools now. At Kanna Academy the students were taught not only the basics of education but also military tactics and things of that nature. However, the difference between Japanese schools and other countries' schools was the use of Magic. Japan was determined to get ahead in the arms race of the world, it was unknown how their people had the ability to use magic when others didn't, but most speculated that it was something in the water. Children were taken from their parents most of the time, other parents let their children go without having to be forced too. Those who were taken had to live onsite. Daizo was an exception. His parents were killed when he was young, but he was taken in by Major Koga and lived off campus with him.
Daizo hated magic. Hated everything to do with magic. He wouldn't use it, no one could make him. The irony was that when he was tested for the ability to use magic, the results came back that he was more than adept in the area of magic and even put in special classes. In which he was failing all of them, by choice of course.
With a heavy sigh, Daizo watched as a puff of his breath appeared and then dissipated in the cold. Of course it would warm up, it always did. But for now, the mornings were going to be chilly. As he walked past a few class mates he heard their whispers. Whispers, about him.
"I heard that he lives with Major Koga..." One whispered.
"He's the one whose parents were murdered by magic users, right?" The other spoke just as quietly.
The young man turned his head, stopping in his tracks and staring at them with a death glare for moment. "Hey, the name's Daizo. Got something to say, come say it to my face." His words were not scornful, but more cocky than anything. He removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. "Well?"
The two other first year students looked surprised than scurried away from Daizo.
"Hey, first year. You better not be causing trouble." A small group of students came up behind Daizo.
"Me? Causing trouble? No, I'd never do that." He said with a smirk before turning to face the group. "Hello again, Akihito-sama."
Akihito, the third year student, growled at the use of the respectful term sama, because he knew Daizo was using it to mock him. "Look here, kid." He grabbed the front of Daizo's uniform and brought him to eye-level. "I could destroy you in a second. You disrespectful piece of shit."
"I'd like to see you try." Daizo reached behind him, removing his training knife from the sheath at the small of his back. It wouldn't actually cut any one but with enough force it would hurt if the blade was dragged across someone's skin. Also the sharp tip of it was enough to draw blood.
"What're you gonna do with that? I have magic. You refuse to use your's. I doubt you can even use magic."
Daizo's look of confidence never left his face. In a split second he used the hilt of his blade to knock the older teenager upside the head which caused him to release Daizo. "Anyone else?"
The others, now enrage by Daizo's arrogance and him hurting their self-proclaimed leader, lunged at Daizo. The younger student easily dodged the group and spun quickly to hit one of them in the back of the head, knocking them out. He ducked as a fist flew over his head and used the weight of his training knife to peg that boy in the stomach with great force, causing him to go down.
"Grab him!" The leader, who had now recovered from the blow, shouted.
Despite his dodging and getting several hits in, they managed to overpower him. He had two teenagers holding his arms, one on either side. He growled and glared at Akihito.
"You've only been here a few weeks, you think you can take us on and win? Without magic?" Akihito held an open hand beside Daizo's head, Palm just inches from Daizo's cheek. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow your head off right now."
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because that would be murder and you would be possibly executed for being such a dick." Daizo said, still smirking. | Name: Daizo Koga.
Age: 15
Appearance:
Personality: TBD
Weapon:
Sniper:
Knife:
Abilities: Shoots regular bullets at first but later able to shoot different kinds of magical bullets out of his sniper. Also adept in hand to hand combat.
Bio: Born in a rural part of Japan to average parents like so many others. His parents were slaughtered by magic users when he was a baby. Daizo was taken in by Major Koga, who raised him. When Daizo took his entry exams they found that he was proficient in magic, abnormally so for his age. To his dismay they put him into a special classes to help him learn how to use his abilities, however, he refuses to use his magic and is failing the courses. He became an outcast at school because he doesn’t fit in really with magic or non-magic users; Daizo focused on his military training pursuing skills in sniping and hand to hand combat. |
9,894 | 274 | 1 | 1,833 | 2,421 | Katsuragi Ari
Current Location: Entrance of Kanna Academy
It was a cold day for not only Ari, but everyone in the city. However, despite the low temperatures, Ari wasn't shivering or freezing, except for her reddened cheeks brought on by the cold weather. Bundled under a scarf and a thick uniform coat doubtlessly allowed because of a generous donation to the Japanese government from the Katsuragi family, the academy was relatively lax with Ari in terms of clothing as long as she had her uniform. Perhaps it was because the Katsuragi could easily sway governmental officials, but whatever the case was, Ari was just glad she didn't have to suffer through the cold like the other poor kids. Still, there was something Ari felt towards them, like the feeling you get when you see a stray cat alone in the rain or one of those sad commercials asking you to donate your money for a cause. The swordsman felt compassion towards the unfortunate, a feeling her parents would strongly be against.
She looked up at the tall building, her eyes unable to see what lied behind the top of the school from her position. The overall size of the academy made it feel like it was something else other than a school, like a massive mall or a superstore. Regardless, even Ari was impressed with the campus' size. Other than skyscrapers, the only large building the swordsman could think of was her own home. With many vibrant walkways and rooms, the academy seemed just like the Katsuragi estate, but the school was much, much more bland in terms of appearance. There was no big windows or doors made of the finest wood, there was only gray walls and simple doors, like those you would see at a doctor's office. Ari, despite previously being impressed with the size of the academy, felt that it was hard to call the building a school instead of that big bland thing. The size was the only memorable detail for Ari, and everything else - from the walls to most faces of the students - were like lost and forgotten thoughts.
Feeling that she was gazing at the building for too long, Ari made her way inside, where she might enjoy some respite from the cold weather even it hadn't affected the swordsman as bad as it affected others. Some of the students glanced her way, most likely due to her status, but for the most part no one really paid any attention to Ari. That is, until the swordsman stumbled onto a confrontation between several students. She watched the fight unfold in front of her, partly wanting to break it up and partly wanting to watch the fight to figure out what exactly was the cause and who started it. However, Ari knew that if she sat there instead of doing something, the officers and teachers at the academy might consider the swordsman an accomplice, or punish her for showing bad initiative by letting the fight continue to happen. "What's this? Aren't the third years, our senpais, supposed to set a good example for the first years, their kouhais? Am I not wrong, Akihito-sama?" Ari asked as she approached the three men who had thoroughly beaten Daizo in an already unfair match. A hand rested on her hip, while Ari's other arm was limp to her side, but ready to draw her blade if the swordsman needed it. Hopefully, Ari wouldn't have to draw it, but bullies and delinquents were always the unpredictable sort.
, | Name: Katsuragi Ari
Age: 16
Gender: Female
DOB: April 15th, 2011
Zodiac: Aries
Weaponry: Retractable Sword, Minebea 9mm
Theme
Abilties
Like the ancient swordsmen of Japan, Katsuragi Ari believes in precise and balanced cuts. She spends her time practicing on thick bamboo stalks to achieve a perfect smooth edge to her cuts to quickly end her foes instead of having them wallowing around in pain due to an imperfect cut. In case her sword swings aren't enough, Ari has a backup 9mm pistol holstered if she needs to fight an opponent from range or to allow Ari to get closer by putting her opponent under a hail of gun fire. In terms of magic, Ari has some aptitude in the magical arts. To foes, it looks like Ari is teleporting throughout the battlefield or from opponent to opponent. In reality, Ari is just momentarily increasing her speed with magic, and the acceleration her body experiences gives off the appearance of teleporting.
Personality
Careful and cautious would be two words to describe Ari. Despite having a sword, she isn't a barbarian, and would prefer to have a plan before needlessly charging into battle. Ari is friendly to her allies, but she seems to have a brutal, cold and unkind tone towards foes - perhaps a feeling developed after fighting face to face in battles of life and death. However, while Ari is cold to her opponents, she knows honor in battle, and will show it to her foe as long as Ari is shown the same courtesy. Her honor works well with her desire for a plan, as Ari hates needless death and bloodshed, as well involving citizens in the missions that she may undertake for the military. Many times has Ari been considered the revitalization of the ancient samurai spirit, and the young swordsman takes great pride in that fact.
Backstory
Born into a rich and ancient family, Ari had everything she wanted from the newest technology to the trendiest clothes. She lived the
good life, and Ari's parents were supportive of her as long as she studied hard and behaved well. Everything was fine and dandy for Ari, for if she didn't know how to do/wanted something, she had servants to do or fetch it. Fundamental basic tasks were below Ari, and without her servants, she would've been lost in the process. During the military classes Ari took, it was noted that she had a talent for close quarters combat, perhaps due to her family's noble history fielding many samurai. When it came time to take the entry tests for the Japanese Global Defense's basic training, Ari's magical aptitude was superb, to the point that even Ari was surprised. They quickly placed her in the best classes they could find for such a young and brilliant swordsman, and her parents eagerly watch what their daughter can offer to Japan. |
9,895 | 274 | 2 | 1,328 | 224 | The first couple of weeks for Anna were not what she expected at all. At first she imagined being welcomed with open arms and a grand celebration welcoming the new students, there would be a party with drinks and snacks. A large area where all the students would get to connect and introduce themselves, a chance to make new friends and find old ones. At the end of the day there would be class assigning, each student would be given their uniform and schedule, a brief period to see if you match with anybody else. Some would say the first day was like that, others not taking to the venues, but Anna, she didn't have a choice. Pre-enrolled in the Special Forces Program there was no time to dilly dally. The young blonde was immediately forced into harsh physical exercises. It was unexpected but she stuck it out, she had to, it was the program she chose and a goal she made for herself to be the only family member to accomplish something great.
As the first couple of weeks went by the exercises didn't seem so bad, of course her body adapted to the pain and stress, it was easier to achieve. The Special Forces Program was definitely not for everyone, those students were pushed harder in every area of expertise, including academics, the scoring method was a lot stricter for the students marked with a S.F.P. on their student profile, teacher would adjust accordingly. Magic was also pushed as far as the student could go, they trained and challenged as hard as they could to the students, sometimes borderline abuse or torture, but these were the students that were gonna win the war.
Anna set herself goals every morning, practicing her program's pre-exercises before the real challenges set in. It would be a course of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, planks, weights, and then a 3 mile run. Each S.F.P. student was to do this at the start of their class, but Anna wanted to do it as soon as she woke up, doubling the daily exercise, pushing herself to go beyond. During her morning run around school grounds she came across a loud and vibrant argument between a handful of students and young boy. Obviously third years versus a first year. Anna stopped for a moment, she wasn't close enough to hear anything but she caught her breath momentarily, keeping an eye on the situation. She saw a girl approach the group, stepping in for the first year from the looks of it, with a sword in hand she obviously has experience. Looking at the scene that sword might cause some problems, seeing as that it was five third years against the two, they won't hold back, which would cause the other girl to step in, resulting in a possible serious injury. Her thought process made her come to the conclusion of interrupting. Anna ran over to the commotion, wearing the school workout uniform, containing of baggy sweats and long sleeve shirt, meant to trap heat and make the muscles expand while burning fat. Though there was a small detail on her uniform compared to others, a patch, sowed into each of her different uniforms at the left shoulder, an emblem representing her enrollment in the Special Forces Program, it bore the same weight as one would say an elite unit badge. Approaching the group she slowed down to steady jog and stopped on the other side of the boy, showing no fatigue and making her small but mighty presence noticed.
"I suggest we all walk out of this before the authorities come, and you and I both know who's side of the story they're gonna believe, third years or not."
Being of older age and higher school progression doesn't always mean superiority, an S.F.P. student does not go unnoticed. She held on to her bearings hoping her intervention would be enough to stop any further commotion, she would hate to see the sharp blade that belonged to the other girl make its appearance. | Name: Anna Mosuke
Age: 15
Weapons: Standard Issue Assault Rifle, Hangun, and Combat Knife
Training: Special Forces (Non-magic)
Bio:
Anna came from a small family that lived just shy of being noticed. Living in the crowds and standing among the rest, normal to simply put it. Her family never held much to their name, no one attended college or did anything great with their lives. Her parents pressured her not to, wanted her to live a quiet normal life like themselves, like their parents before them. Every generation so far lived that quiet life, following in the footsteps of everybody else, nothing exciting, nothing daring. Anna didn't like that life, didn't want to live that way, and when the J.G.D. was formed it was her chance to change. Not that she had a choice, the Government had the program force kids to attend anyways.
Once in she didn't know what she wanted, she only thought of change but nothing specific. During her tests she showed no sign of magic so that was out of the question, though she thought if any of her distant family was. Her scores in other areas however surpassed the average by far. She could take any course she wanted to and gave it deep thought. She figured she would go for greatness, go big or go home. She wanted to live outside of her family traditions and take it to the max. With her high scores and given the choice of her courses, unlike some of the students. She chose to take the Special Forces training; she would receive training for a large arsenal, from weapons to vehicles, being able to adapt and learn a weapon or vehicle in a short amount of time, even if it was of foreign origin. Her training would take her down different tactics as well, from aggressive guerrilla to extreme infiltration and stealth. Of course her testing would be extreme and lessons rushed, she'd have to keep up and score perfectly to continue or be dropped out of the Special Forces Training. Ready for the first day of High School and Training, Anna begins a change for the Mosuke family. |
9,896 | 274 | 3 | 2,720 | 1,306 | Breathing a bit heavily after the struggle, Daizo still wore his air of cockiness and lack of fear. Which for him was probably a bad idea around these volatile students. However, cocky as he was, he was definitely glad when the other first year student stepped in with her sword. She was lucky to get to carry around her weapon. He had gotten in trouble enough in the past few weeks he had his weapons taken from him, only to be used during training sessions. But of course, they were wise to take his things away, who would want a mastermind such as himself to go around sniping his enemies? Daizo waited for Akihito to reply to the first year, and hoped that sword of her's wouldn't have to be drawn. He wouldn't want someone to get in trouble on his behalf. Besides, he was sure he could get out of this one himself, though he would never say that out loud.
Akihito seemed almost flustered to see Ari, a girl of her standing was definitely not one to be messed with. With her influence she probably could have him locked away or killed if she wanted to. He bowed at the waist. "Gommenasai, Miss." He gestured for the others to release Daizo. Just then another student came their way. Another young blonde, who appeared to be a member of the Special Forces. Daizo was free now and wanted to see where this was going. How did two females have more power than him? And not even magic based power or anything like that, just their standing had more influence then his.
It was funny how they were so willing to mess with him when he did, in fact, live with one of the instructors who could have them kicked out of the school, locked up, and dishonor on their families.
Akihito, with an angry expression said not another word, but stormed off away from the three, the others hurried behind him.
"Akihito-sama! Wait for us!" They yelled after him, trying to get away from the powerful girls.
Daizo smirked and chuckled. The teen threw his arms open at either side of him, arrogantly. "That's right, run you bastards! Remember the name, Koga, Daizo! I don't tolerate magic users abusing their power! Or magic users in general that is..." He muttered that last part. He turned to the two females and bowed his head. "Arigato." He thanked them both graciously. "I was in a real tough spot there for a moment, if it weren't for you both..." With a bit of embarrassment he placed one hand on the back of his head. "I probably would've been maimed... Man, where's the disciplinary committee when you need them. Anyway, I'm Koga, Daizo. Nice to meet you both." He tended to stick to himself and didn't really know who these two were, even though their names were known around campus, mostly Ari's but sometimes Anna's as well.
"Sorry, about that, we should probably get out of here before the disciplinary committee actually shows up." He said. Others had been watching, but no one had guts enough to try and stop Akihito, few had ran to get those who would stop the fighting so it was only a matter of time before they should up. | Name: Daizo Koga.
Age: 15
Appearance:
Personality: TBD
Weapon:
Sniper:
Knife:
Abilities: Shoots regular bullets at first but later able to shoot different kinds of magical bullets out of his sniper. Also adept in hand to hand combat.
Bio: Born in a rural part of Japan to average parents like so many others. His parents were slaughtered by magic users when he was a baby. Daizo was taken in by Major Koga, who raised him. When Daizo took his entry exams they found that he was proficient in magic, abnormally so for his age. To his dismay they put him into a special classes to help him learn how to use his abilities, however, he refuses to use his magic and is failing the courses. He became an outcast at school because he doesn’t fit in really with magic or non-magic users; Daizo focused on his military training pursuing skills in sniping and hand to hand combat. |
9,897 | 274 | 4 | 1,833 | 2,421 | Katsuragi Ari
Current Location: Entrance of Kanna Academy
Ari watched Akihito quickly turn from someone who'd mug you in a dark alley to someone who wouldn't dare hurt a fly. She shook her head at them as they apologized, an obvious sign of her disappointment in the near instant change of the delinquents' moods. Begging for forgiveness because of my family's status is one thing, but... Ari's thoughts trailed off as Anna arrived to the scene. By just their appearance - both Ari and Anna's, the third year students ran off like children trying to hide from their parents to avoid punishment. The swordsman disapproved of their flight, rather wishing that they stayed to accept their punishment from the instructors. It wasn't honorable to bully another student and flee when you were suddenly in trouble.
"It is nice to meet you as well, Koga-kun." Ari replied, with a smile of her own. The swordsman's parents wouldn't have approved of her taking such a stance to defend a commoner, much less act friendly to them without given reason, but they weren't here, and Ari did as she wanted. "I'm sure you already... know this by now, but I'm Katsuragi Ari. You can call me Ari, if you wish." The few onlookers, if any at all, probably glanced at Daizo, perhaps in jealousy or some other emotion they felt upon hearing the swordsman's words. Nearly everyone wanted to be friends with someone rich, and some of the onlookers might've been jealous that Ari was being friendly with another student that she just met.
She gave Daizo a nod to confirm her approval to scram, seeing that there was no real reason to stick around after Akihito, but Ari waited long enough in case Anna felt the need to introduce herself as well. "And you are Mosuke Anna, right? Do you mind if I just call you An? An-chan has a nice ring to it." Ari stated, turning her attention to the operative at her side.
, | Name: Katsuragi Ari
Age: 16
Gender: Female
DOB: April 15th, 2011
Zodiac: Aries
Weaponry: Retractable Sword, Minebea 9mm
Theme
Abilties
Like the ancient swordsmen of Japan, Katsuragi Ari believes in precise and balanced cuts. She spends her time practicing on thick bamboo stalks to achieve a perfect smooth edge to her cuts to quickly end her foes instead of having them wallowing around in pain due to an imperfect cut. In case her sword swings aren't enough, Ari has a backup 9mm pistol holstered if she needs to fight an opponent from range or to allow Ari to get closer by putting her opponent under a hail of gun fire. In terms of magic, Ari has some aptitude in the magical arts. To foes, it looks like Ari is teleporting throughout the battlefield or from opponent to opponent. In reality, Ari is just momentarily increasing her speed with magic, and the acceleration her body experiences gives off the appearance of teleporting.
Personality
Careful and cautious would be two words to describe Ari. Despite having a sword, she isn't a barbarian, and would prefer to have a plan before needlessly charging into battle. Ari is friendly to her allies, but she seems to have a brutal, cold and unkind tone towards foes - perhaps a feeling developed after fighting face to face in battles of life and death. However, while Ari is cold to her opponents, she knows honor in battle, and will show it to her foe as long as Ari is shown the same courtesy. Her honor works well with her desire for a plan, as Ari hates needless death and bloodshed, as well involving citizens in the missions that she may undertake for the military. Many times has Ari been considered the revitalization of the ancient samurai spirit, and the young swordsman takes great pride in that fact.
Backstory
Born into a rich and ancient family, Ari had everything she wanted from the newest technology to the trendiest clothes. She lived the
good life, and Ari's parents were supportive of her as long as she studied hard and behaved well. Everything was fine and dandy for Ari, for if she didn't know how to do/wanted something, she had servants to do or fetch it. Fundamental basic tasks were below Ari, and without her servants, she would've been lost in the process. During the military classes Ari took, it was noted that she had a talent for close quarters combat, perhaps due to her family's noble history fielding many samurai. When it came time to take the entry tests for the Japanese Global Defense's basic training, Ari's magical aptitude was superb, to the point that even Ari was surprised. They quickly placed her in the best classes they could find for such a young and brilliant swordsman, and her parents eagerly watch what their daughter can offer to Japan. |
9,898 | 274 | 5 | 1,328 | 224 | Anna sighed to herself 'Thank heavens, I was afraid this might end up badly, I don't even have hand-to-hand combat training yet.' As the elder group left the stress of the situation went with it. The boy named Daizo was rather quick to talk without putting much thought into it, probably why they got into that situation in the first place. None the less the problem was resolved and luckily no harm done. Daizo thanked them both and it was the first none official commendation she had received for her efforts. Even though she didn't do much her presence was enough to cause discomfort with the higher students, and that alone was progress to becoming something great in her family.
"Not a problem Daizo-kun, I'm glad we were able to help."
Her thoughts went to the other girl, if she remember correctly she was Katsuragi Ari, from a well known wealthy family. Being part of the Mosuke's she was told to stay away from rich and reputable families, Katsuragi was one of the examples. This was her chance to make friends, to cross a line no one has done before. As she spoke with Daizo she introduced herself with a preference towards Ari. The other blonde turned towards Anna, now focused on her, before she could speak up Ari had already started, calling her Anna-chan which brought a light flush to her skin. Someone of a much higher status referring to her with respect, it was something she definitely didn't expect.
"Th-that's fine," a little flustered, she straightened up and continued, "Ari-chan it is for you then," she said was a small smile and a tilt of her head.
As the three were talking Anna could here chatter around them and those who watched the big scene had comments to spare to themselves. Some mentioning the small gang the third years had, others remarking the incredible rebellion by the first years.
"It seems we have attracted some attention ourselves, and not with the situation that just ended, I think for the sake of everyone here it be best to stick together to prevent the harassment brought on by others, whether it be good or bad, it could cause issues for us individually."
Being the fact that the upper classmen had their own 'territories' so to speak, locations where groups of friends hung out, it was always a fight to get one of your own when you first start. Anna was always a fan of a shaded spot underneath a tree next to the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard. Of course such an area would be taken but by the time rumors have spread of this past event others would be willing to move out of the way, whether out of fear or praise.
"Look I've had my eye on this spot by the fountain, the shady one underneath the tree, I bet you by lunch the whole school will know of us standing up to Akihito. Maybe, just maybe we'll be able to take that spot, if we're gonna stick together then we need a place to hangout, what do you say guys?" | Name: Anna Mosuke
Age: 15
Weapons: Standard Issue Assault Rifle, Hangun, and Combat Knife
Training: Special Forces (Non-magic)
Bio:
Anna came from a small family that lived just shy of being noticed. Living in the crowds and standing among the rest, normal to simply put it. Her family never held much to their name, no one attended college or did anything great with their lives. Her parents pressured her not to, wanted her to live a quiet normal life like themselves, like their parents before them. Every generation so far lived that quiet life, following in the footsteps of everybody else, nothing exciting, nothing daring. Anna didn't like that life, didn't want to live that way, and when the J.G.D. was formed it was her chance to change. Not that she had a choice, the Government had the program force kids to attend anyways.
Once in she didn't know what she wanted, she only thought of change but nothing specific. During her tests she showed no sign of magic so that was out of the question, though she thought if any of her distant family was. Her scores in other areas however surpassed the average by far. She could take any course she wanted to and gave it deep thought. She figured she would go for greatness, go big or go home. She wanted to live outside of her family traditions and take it to the max. With her high scores and given the choice of her courses, unlike some of the students. She chose to take the Special Forces training; she would receive training for a large arsenal, from weapons to vehicles, being able to adapt and learn a weapon or vehicle in a short amount of time, even if it was of foreign origin. Her training would take her down different tactics as well, from aggressive guerrilla to extreme infiltration and stealth. Of course her testing would be extreme and lessons rushed, she'd have to keep up and score perfectly to continue or be dropped out of the Special Forces Training. Ready for the first day of High School and Training, Anna begins a change for the Mosuke family. |
9,899 | 274 | 6 | 2,720 | 1,306 | Daizo grinned at hearing the term kun after his name. No one had ever called him that in his lifetime, it was kind of awesome to hear it from it from two attractive ladies. When the one named Anna blushed at the one named Ari, his grin grew a bit wider. He had respect for women and all but his young boy brain was going to places it shouldn't have. Daizo started to move away from the scene of the crime, hoping the two would follow. "Stick together?" He wasn't sure how he felt about this, he was always alone, always had been and assumed he always would be. But on that fateful day he had managed to make two new 'friends' out of no where. All because he had caused a bit of trouble.
"Not sure how I feel about being part of a group. But who am I to say no if a beautiful girl or two wants to group up with me?" He was trying to be fly and compliment them, but he wasn't sure if it would just piss them off. Girls were so sensitive as far as he could tell. "What do you think about this, um, Ari? Sorry I don't want to be rude. You said I could use Ari, right?" He stopped for a moment and moved his eyes to the side, thinking about what he had said. It wasn't like him at all, he was respectful but not a pansy, he must've sounded like such a little bitch.
Their was a female voice over the loud speaker, it sounded a bit older than them, it spoke in a demanding tone, "Koga, Daizo and Ishii, Akihito come to the Dean's office NOW."
"Oh yes, the campus cameras win again." Daizo rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I gotta go. I'll see you both later I hope... If they don't decide to hang me upside down in a dungeon some where." He laughed at his own joke, winked at them both and took off toward the Dean's office.
Upon arriving, Akihito was already in the office. Along with a few members of the disciplinary committee, including the head of the disciplinary committee who knew him Daizo well. Her name was Sanada, Kanako an esteemed member of the school, a third year in the Special Forces program. How she had time and energy to put toward the committee, no one would ever know.
"Oh hey, Sanada-san!" Daizo smirked at Kanako.
"Don't even start with me, Daizo."
"Look, I didn't start the fight, Daizo threw the first punch!" Akihito told the Dean.
"Yes, but wasn't it you who was going to use magic on him, that was a level three spell, a powerful one that would have killed him."
"..." Akihito said not another word.
"As for you, Daizo."
"Oi, I'm innocent, they started it, sir." Daizo crossed his arms and looked away defiantly.
After much deliberation, Daizo was given yet ANOTHER warning, this would be his last, and Akihito had to serve detention. Which at this school involved harsh physical punishment, such as 2,000 pull-ups in one day. Oh yes, his punishment was well deserved.
The next day, it was another cold morning. Daizo actually had to wear his overcoat that day. That morning, he actually searched for Ari and Anna. Wondering if they were together, he headed to that fountain spot that Anna had mentioned. | Name: Daizo Koga.
Age: 15
Appearance:
Personality: TBD
Weapon:
Sniper:
Knife:
Abilities: Shoots regular bullets at first but later able to shoot different kinds of magical bullets out of his sniper. Also adept in hand to hand combat.
Bio: Born in a rural part of Japan to average parents like so many others. His parents were slaughtered by magic users when he was a baby. Daizo was taken in by Major Koga, who raised him. When Daizo took his entry exams they found that he was proficient in magic, abnormally so for his age. To his dismay they put him into a special classes to help him learn how to use his abilities, however, he refuses to use his magic and is failing the courses. He became an outcast at school because he doesn’t fit in really with magic or non-magic users; Daizo focused on his military training pursuing skills in sniping and hand to hand combat. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.